families it amounts to two or three shillings weekly, when the court in front, or patch in rear of the house, afford ample conve nience for growing nearly all that is required. We do not advocate the cultivation of vegetables (unless the garden is large) in the suburbs of great towns, particularly London; because the market-gardeners produce them much cheaper than any private person can grow them; and even if the greatest pains is taken, and no expense spared, it is seldom or never that they can be produced so early or so good as by those who make it their business, and who have facilities, and above all, practical experience for the work. But this objection does not apply to pot-herbs, which are easy of growth, and require but little trouble in the management. Having so far premised and shown the feasibility of thrift in this item of household expense, we shall now give a few directions for the information of those who choose to avail themselves of the discovery; a novel one we are sure to many housekeepers in the suburbs of large towns.

Parsley is the herb most in use, indeed in constant demand, both for garnishing and cookery. There are two sorts, the plain-leaved and the curly. The latter should always be preferred, being more beautiful, whether growing, or on the dish, and easily distinguished from the Ethusa, or fool's parsley-a species of hemlock, which is poisonous. The best mode of cultivation is by seed, sowing where it is to remain, any time between the 1st of March and the middle of June; and if the stalks are cut down occasionally to prevent their seeding, it will last for several years. The seed, which should be buried about an inch deep, is a long time vegetating, the plant not appearing above ground for five or six weeks. Parsley may be cultivated by transplanting some young roots, the younger the better, watering and shading until they have taken root, and hold their heads up. Many pot-herbs are almost as good for use dry as green; but this is not the case with parsley, which is infinitely better for all purposes when fresh. By covering it over with some loose haulm in the winter, the young leaves will be sheltered, and it might be gathered as wanted, all the year round.

Mint is best propagated by cuttings, or by dividing the roots of an old plant. February is the proper season for this; but it may be done at any time in cloudy weather by shading and watering. Those who have conservatories or frames should keep a

root or two of mint in pots, as it is in demand for lamb very early in the year, and before it puts forth its young leaves in the open ground. We have seen fourpence charged for a small bundle of mint (and that on the 1st of May), scarcely sufficient to make sauce for a joint of lamb.

"Of all the birds that fly in the air," says Cicely Cowslip, "give me a roast duck, stuffed with sage and onions." The onions may be omitted, but sage is indispensable in the stuffing of goose, duck, or pork, and also for various purposes in teas, infusions, &c., therefore by all means nourish a few roots of this, which is propagated by planting the young shoots about the month of June. Take some robust shoots, about six inches long, remove all but the top leaves, and insert them in dippled holes, quite up to the leaves, squeezing the earth at the bottom of the shoot, but pressing it lightly towards the top. Shade and water, and when the plants spindle and show an inclination to flower, cut them down, so as to induce the growth of side shoots. Or you may divide the old root, which is best effected in spring or autumn. If produced from seed, it must be sown in a rich border in April, thinned out when the plants are three inches high, and removed to its final station in the autumn or the following spring. Sage requires a dry soil and sheltered situation.

Thyme will grow anywhere, but it prefers a dry poor soil; if the ground is rich, the plant will become too luxuriant and lose its aromatic qualities. There are several varieties, that preferred for culinary purposes is the lemon-scented, it is also the handsomest in appearance. It is propagated by seeds, or slips. Sowing should be performed from the middle of March to the middle of May; slips should be set out in the spring. It may also be propagated by layers, like carnations. Although a perennial, it becomes stunted after two or three years, and to insure it in perfection, the seed should be sown annually. There are other potherbs, such as marjoram, savory, tarragon, basil, &c., all which may be cultivated in small patches for general use. The sweet marjoram is produced from seeds, and so is the basil; but the common marjoram, savory, and tarragon, may be grown from cuttings or roots, like those already described.

Some corners should be devoted to fennel and horse radish, esculents in constant use. The first is shy of moving, and unless the plants are very young, it can scarcely ever be done successfully after April. The

surest mode is to sow the seed, either in spring or autumn, and it will flourish in any soil. Horse-radish is propagated from sets, by cutting the main root and offsets, into lengths of about two inches, including a joint. It delights in a moist loamy soil, but will grow anywhere, requiring manure if the ground is poor; it is, however, rather an unsightly plant, and may be dispensed with, by the housekeeper purchasing a bundle or half a bundle at a time, and keeping it for use in moist sand; but to buy a single root to garnish a single steak, is wretched economy.

While upon the subject of herbs, we append some directions for drying and preserving them, derived from the authority of Mr. Butler, the celebrated herbalist in Covent Garden Market, who furnished the information to the late Doctor

Kitchiner.

"It is very important to those who are not in the constant habit of attending the markets, to know when the various seasons commence for purchasing sweet herbs.

"All vegetables are in the highest state of perfection, and fullest of juice and flavour, just before they begin to flower: the first and last crop have neither the fine flavour nor the perfume of those which are gathered in the height of the season; that is, when the greater part of the crop of each species is ripe."

Take care that they are gathered on a dry day, by which means they will have a better colour when dried. Cleanse your herbs well from dirt and dust, cut off the roots; separate the bunches into smaller ones, and dry them by the heat of a stove, or in a Dutch oven before a common fire, in such quantities at a time that the process may be speedily finished, i.e. 'Kill 'em quick,' says a great botanist: by this means their flavour will be best preserved. There can be no doubt of the propriety of drying herbs, &c. hastily by the aid of artificial heat, rather than by the heat of the sun. The only caution requisite is to avoid burning, and of this a sufficient test is afforded by the preservation of the colour." The common custom is, when they are perfectly dried, to put them in bags, and hang them up to the roof of a kitchen, or lay them in a dry place; but a better method is to pick off the leaves from the stalks, to rub them over a hair sieve so as to extract the dust which generally adheres to them, particularly those which are purchased with the roots on, and to put them in wide-mouthed bottles (taking care that they are quite dry),

and if well stopped the aroma of the herb will be preserved.

Another plan is to infuse the herbs in as much spirit, vinegar, or wine, as will cover them, and after ten or twelve days to strain off, repeating it with the strained liquor over fresh herbs if it is wished to have the

essence very strong. This impregnates soups and sauces with the flavour without the appearance of the herb, and it will keep good for years, while a very small quantity suffices.

The proper season for gathering the following herbs to be preserved in either mode or in both, is as follows:-basil, from the middle of August to middle of September; knotted marjoram, from beginning of July to end of August; savory, the same; thyme, throughout June and July; mint, July; sage, August and September; tarragon and burnet, July and August; chervil, parsley, and fennel, May, June, and July.

THE GENTLEMAN'S ROOM.

FAR beyond drawing-room or spare-room, and important above almost every other arrangement in your domestic establishment, is the consecration of one room to the especial use of the master of the house, should his pursuits be such as to render occasional solitude and quiet needful, or merely pleasurable to him. A sound and a lovely policy is that which secures to a husband, in his own family, certain privileges and comforts that he can never find elsewhere, and that are calculated to counterbalance the weight of the many other attractions which his immediate circle cannot offer. A room to himself-a home within his home-is such a privilege, and few sacrifices are too great if they may procure it for him; few advantages are great enough if they must take it from him; it will keep him from clubs and card parties abroad, or from being "always about" at home; it will prove a sanctuary from the numerous petty domestic troubles and annoyances that, as few men can comprehend or tolerate, it is much better that they should not see; or, should business or amusement induce a temporary absence, the image of his own room, and the gentle loving being presiding over its many indulgences and comforts, will follow him into "hall and bower," and, creating a salutary yearning in the midst of greater luxury and wealth, will guide him safely back again, where only he can rest in perfect happiness and safety.

DOMESTIC HINTS AND RECEIPTS.

TOAST AND WATER.-The universal adoption of this beverage at our dinner-tables, or as a grateful diluent for the invalid, renders the preparation of this simple, but delicate infusion, an object of interest to a considerable number of our readers; and we have therefore taken pains to ascertain the simplest. but most effectual method of preparing it. The mode we now communicate will produce without the chance of failure, if the directions are strictly followed, a fresh sparkling liquor, cool and grateful to the taste, of a bright brown colour, and of an almost fragrant empyreumatic flavour. Take a small solid square piece of bread, and place it on a toasting-fork at about half a yard distant from the fire; let it remain two hours at least, and as much longer as convenient, and when it has assumed a light brown colour, plunge it while hot into a jug of clear cold water. Cover it over, and let it remain till wanted for use. The longer the bread is allowed to toast, the brighter and browner the colour it becomes; and the longer the maceration of the toast in the water goes on, the better, to a certain extent, and within certain limits, the result will prove.

MODE OF EMPLOYING SODA IN WASHING.

Into a gallon of water put a handful of soda, and three quarters of a pound of soap; boil them together until the soap is dissolved, and then pour out the liquor for use. This mode of preparing this detergent for washing, will be found far preferable to the usual mode of putting the soda into the water, or of adding, as is usual, a lump to the water in the boiler,, in consequence of which so many iron moulds are produced in many kinds of clothes. In the washing of blankets, this mode of proceeding will be found admirable, and render them beautifully white.

TO PREVENT CHILDREN'S CLOTHES TAKING FIRE SO many lamentable accidents, with loss of life, occurring from fire, we remind our readers that, for the preservation of children from that calamity, their clothes, after washing, should be rinsed in water, in which a small quantity of saltpetre (nitre) has been dissolved. This improves the appearance, and renders linen and cotton garments proof against blaze. The same plan should be adopted with window and bed curtains. HOW TO EAT AN EGG.-There is an old saying, taken from the Italian," Teach your grandmother to suck eggs. ." This appears an unnecessary piece of information, as people do not suck eggs as they do oranges; but as we believe there are few who know how to eat one properly, we shall give the secret. By the usual mode of introducing the salt it will not mix or incorporate with the egg: the result is, you either get a quantity of salt without egg, or egg without salt. Put in a drop or two of water, tea, coffee, or other liquid you may have on the table at the time, then add the salt, and stir. The result is far more agreeable; the drop of liquid is not tasted.

A HINT TO HOUSEMAIDS.-Previous to sweeping a bed-room, mop it well over with a dry thrum mop; by this means all the light dust will be collected, and nothing but the heavy particles remain, and the furniture, beds, &c., escape much duste

CURE FOR WEAK EYES.-Bathe the eyes wide open in cold water every morning, and in about a fortnight a material improvement will be palpable.

COLDS FROM EXCESSIVE FATIGUE IN. WET WEATHER.-Those robust individuals whose occupations are chiefly followed in the open air; on taking cold and experiencing rheumatic or other muscular pains from too lengthened and violent exertion in wet weather, have a specific for the cure of these affections which is regarded by them as infallible, and this is, a tea or tablespoonful of the oily fat which drips from slowly-toasted bacon.

TO PREVENT MILK FROM TURNING SOUR-TO each quart of milk, add fifteen grains of biearbonate of soda; this addition will not affect the taste of the milk, and it promotes digestion.. A PLUM CAKE.

There are few who can make what I term a good cake,

And as such I intend to explain; Without further parade, how 'tis done, with the aid

Of a little attention. Obtain Half-a-quartern of dough, which, when worked to and fro,

May be placed by the fire to rise, Where permit it to stand while you beat up by

hand

Having added all these to the dough by degrees, With four ounces of sweetmeats, select

A

small tin deep and wide, buttered nicely inside, That-when baked-it may turn out correct.. G. M.. F.. G.

DEVONSHIRE STEW.-Mix together the following articles, previously boiled and shred: Potatoes, cabbage (or greens), and onions; season with pepper and salt; put the whole into a pan with a lump of nice beef dripping, or butter; stir it until hot-it is then ready for use. Double the quantity of potatoes are required to the cabbage and onions. This is a cheap dish, and eats well with hot or cold meat. Potatoes and cabbage left at dinner the day previous will answer the purpose. The water should be changed at least twice during the boiling of the onions.

To CLEAN PAINT THAT IS NOT VARNISHED.Put upon a plate some of the best whiting, have ready some clean warm water, and a piece of flannel, which dip into the water and squeeze nearly dry; then take as much whiting as will adhere to it, apply it to the paint, when a little rubbing will instantly remove any dirt or grease; wash well off with water, and rub dry with a soft cloth. Paint thus cleaned looks equal to new; and without doing the least injury to the most delicate colour, it will preserve the paint much longer than if cleaned with soap; and it does not require more than half the time usually occupied in cleaning.

SCRAPS FROM THE GERMAN OF JEAN

PAUL.

OCEAN.-Almighty, yet gentle power! Thou rushest in anger against the earth, and devourest it, and thy vast Briareous arms encircle its whole circumference. Yet, dost thou silence the foaming stream, and subdue it into gentle waves, gently dost thou play round thy smiling children, the little islands, and dost lick the careless hand that toys with thy surface, from the passing skiff.

MEN OF TASTE.-There are some men who stand on the debateable ground between talents and genius without belonging to either; they have a strong love for all that is beautiful and great, without the power of producing them. Instead of all the radii of the mind tending, as in men of genius, to a single point, they stand in the centre and send forth rays in every direction, but these antagonist forces destroy each other.

PASSION.-A man in passion is like Vesuvius in an eruption-vomiting forth flames and red-hot stones, which descend immediately into its own bosom, till chance directs it over the edge of the crater, to deal destruction to others.

NOVELTY.-A new part is always more heartily and better performed thau an old one. We brood over our projects fondly at first, but let the eggs grow cold as soon as they are fairly hatched.

MURMURING.-Our hearts must be more contracted than our eyes, or we should not murmur at every little cloud which we can plainly see is but a speck in a universe of light.

SELF-IMPORTANCE.-We draw our map of the world after the lines of our own little life; as sailors, on their charts, lay down all the land in blank, and mark only rocks, shoals, and sandbanks.

SORROW.-The depth of a wound may be judged from its bandages, and the depth of our sorrow by the self-deception to which we resort, in the vain hope to close it.

STRENGTH OF CHARACTER.-A few ideas of our own will save us from being too sensible to external impressions, as a light in our room makes lightning less blinding.

CONSCIENCE.-The wounds of conscience never cicatrize; the wings of time himself do not cool them, but his scythe only opens them the wider. FRANKNESS. Frank simplicity rather diminishes a man's character for talent, as a straight road never seems so long as a crooked one.

MEMORY.-The shadowy remembrance lasts longer than the real enjoyment. Flowers may be kept for years, but not fruits.

LOVE.-Love grows best among troubles; as trees are best transplanted in cloudy weather. COURTIEKS.-Courtiers behave like good boatmen, who, as soon as one side of their boats sink, hang over the other.

MARRIED AND UNMARRIED WOMEN.-We get better acquainted with a married woman in an hour, than we can with a young girl in a week. The latter is a green walnut, from which you must strip off a half dozen coverings before you can get a glimpse of the inside; the former a ripe oue, which opens of its elf, and displays the fruit within. SELF-PRAISE. A man may talk of his past deeds or sufferings, but may not of his present A hero may show his sores.

ones.

GEMS FROM EMERSON,

It takes a good deal of time to eat or to sleep, or to earn a hundred dollars, and a very little time to entertain a hope and an insight which becomes the light of our life.

I know that the world I converse with in the city and in the farms, is not the world I think. I observe that difference, and shall observe it. One day, I shall know the value and law of this dis-< crepancy

We dress our garden, eat our dinners, discuss the household with our wives, and these things make no impression, are forgotten next week; but in the solitude to which every man is always return ng, he has a sanity and revelations, which in his passage into new worlds he will carry with him.

Two human beings are like globes, which can touch only in a point, and whilst they remain in contact, all other points of each of the spheres are inert: their turn must also come, and the longer a particular union lasts, the more energy of appe.. tenoy the parts not in union acquire.

I would gladly be moral, and keep due metes and bounds, which I dearly love, and allow the most to the wild of man; but I have set my heart on honesty in this chapter, and I can see nothing at last, in success or failure, than more or less of vital force supplied from the Eternal.

Do you see that kitten chasing so prettily her own tail? If you could look with her eyes, you might see her surrounded with hundreds of figures performing complex dramas, with tragic and comic issues, long conversations, many charac ters, many ups and downs of fate-and meantime it is only puss and her tail.

I have le rned that I cannot dispose of other's facts, but I possess such a key to my own, as per sua les me against all their denials, that they also have a key to theirs. A sympathetic per on is placed in the dilemma of a swimmer among drowning men, who all catch at him, and if he give so much as a leg or a finger, they will drown. him.

When I converse with a profound mind, or if at any time being alone I have good thoughts, I do not at once arrive at satisfactions, as when, being thirsty, I drink water, or go to the fire, being cold. No! but I am at first apprised of my vicinity to a new and excellent region of life. By persisting to red or to think, this region gives further sign of itself.

Suffice it for the joy of the universe, that we have not arrived at a wall, but at interminable oceans. Our life seems not present, so much as prospective; not for the affairs on which it is wasted, but as a hint of this vast-flowing vigour. Most of life seems to be mere advertisement of faculty: information is given us not to sell ourselves; that we are very great.

Murder in the murderer is no such ruinous thought as poets and romancers will have it; it does not unsettle him, or fright him from his. ordinary notice of trifles; it is an act quite easy to be contemplated, but in its sequel it turns out to be a horrible jangle and confounding of all relations. Especially the crimes that spring from love, seem right and fair from the actor's point of view, but, when acted, are found destructive of society,

ORIGINAL POETRY.

APRIL.

A LOVELY maiden, fickle as she's fair,
Veiling her beauty with each passing cloud;
Then smiling on us through a shower of tears,
Which fall in pearly drops on swelling buds,
And tender blossoms that have burst to life.
I love her not, though I must own she's fair,
And that her eyes are sweet as heaven's own blue,
And golden, too, her hair, when the bright sun
Bests on her head crown'd with Spring's gentle
flowers;

The snowdrop lower droops its trembling bell
To kiss her parted lips, and the pale primrose
Paler grows, beside the glowing beauty of her
face.

Yet, trust her not, she smiles but to betray-
Too well I know she's false as beautiful;
Her heart is cold-no love her bosom warms;
She wins thee by her smiles and tears,
Then shakes her golden curls, smiles her last smile,
And leaves thee, poor deceived one, to despair!
EMMA.

I loved the garland made for me from off the old pink thorn.

And later still I stood with one I loved, and who loved me;

We always met at sundown 'neath this old and friendly tree;

'Twas long ago, 'tis past and gone, but I must always mourn,

LINES TO AN ABSENT BROTHER.
'Tis night yet fearless and alone
Upon the wild sea-beach I stray;
The diamond stars fade one by one,
And Luna hides her gentle ray.

But, brother, I am here for thee,
Beseeching Heaven to calm that sea!
Beneath yon dark and lowering sky,
Rocked on the ocean's heaving wave,
A vessel carries from mine eye
The being I would die to save.

Yes, brother, I am by the sea, Imploring Heaven to watch o'er thee! I cannot sleep while tempests roar, For every gust is like thy knell; But by this rocky wave-girt shore To Heaven my hopes and fears I tell. Dear brother, I am by the sea, Breathing a heartfelt prayer for thee! Tho' storms may howl, and nights be dark, There is a great Almighty hand, Who yet can steer thy trembling bark, And lead thee safe to welcome land

That God who reigns o'er earth or sea, And hears my earnest prayers for thee! Oh, yes! He hears, and well I know

That He can guard thy life from harm;
And tears of grief no longer flow,
When thinking of His sheltering arm.

For He can still the raging sea,
And bring thee, brother, back to me!
MARIE.

THE GRAVE OF LITTLE RICHARD.

old pink thorn.

We met there, and we parted there, and ne'er to meet again,

He was among the first who fell upon the battle plain;

Oh! very sad at heart was I, when weary and forlorn,

I came to weep those bitter tears beneath the old pink thorn.

Then tell me not 'tis old and frail, I cannot spare it now,

I love each leaf and tender flower, I love each knotted bough;

For happy memories of the past its every leaf adorn,

Take all the finest trees away, but spare the old pink thorn. CLARIBEL.

green, [the wind, With its flowers and the willow that wav'd in Told how fondly beloved the lost darling had been, And how dear was the mem'ry that linger'd behind.

A stone at the foot of the hillock was placed, And a chaplet of flowers some dear friend had prepared; [had traced, Where the hands of the sculptor that lov'd name Little Richard was all that the grave-stone

declared.