with peaches, which he thought excellent; when he arrived at Montreuil, the inhabitants, who offer their fruit for sale to travellers, told him that he would, if he tasted one of theirs, throw those he had got out of his chaise, which in fact he did, as soon as he had tasted a Montreuil peach. It is at Montreuil alone where the true management of this delicious fruit can be studied and attained; for it is impossible from written precepts to acquire the whole art. The modes of winter and summer pruning are varied, not only according to the differences of soil and exposure, but even according to the state and constitution of each individual tree. Some of the best of their fruits are never budded, but always reared from the stone; the rest are budded on stocks of a half wild peach, called Peche de Vigre. Peach trees budded on an almond stock are larger and more durable than others; but they require a deep and light soil, and do not fruit so soon. The best almonds for stock are the red-shelled sort, and some prefer the bitter, but it is more difficult to succeed with these than with the soft-shelled almond. Stocks of the apricot, and the prune de St Jubers, produce smaller trees that bear sooner, but do not last so long, and of course answer better in a shallow soil. The season of budding depends on the weather being more or less wet; the end of July, in ordinary years, is proper for the plum stock; that for the apricot and the almond is later; and for the young almond stock the middle of September is the most proper. In order to provide stocks, the fruit stones are sown in baskets, which, when the tree has attained a proper size, are sunk in the ground, where it is intended they should grow, provided the soil is deep; for shallow soils the young plant is taken up, and its larger roots cut off, which forces it to throw out lateral roots, and in the

event to become a more productive bearer. Peaches are never eaten in perfection if suffered to ripen on the tree; they should be gathered just before they are quite soft, and kept at least twenty-four hours.-The inhabitants of Agenteuil, near Paris, derive their chief support from the culture of fig-trees. Near this town are immense plains covered with these trees, on the sides of hills facing the south, and in other places sheltered from the north and the north-west winds. In the autumn the earth about the roots of these trees is stirred and dug; as soon as the frost commences, the gardeners bend down the branches and bury them under six inches of mould, which is sufficient to preserve them; but before this is done, the branches must be entirely stripped of their leaves. A fig tree will remain buried in this manner seventy-five or eighty days without harm. It is necessary, in dry seasons, to water fig-trees; the nature of the plant requires to have its root cool, while its head is exposed to the hottest sun. If planted against the south wall of a house, near a spout that brings water from the roof, it thrives abundantly. Figs do well also in a paved court; the stones keep the ground under them moist and cool, while the surrounding buildings reflect and increase the sun rays.

From Mr Montagu's researches on the constitution of sponges, it appears, that no polype, or vermes of any kind, are to be decerned in their cells or pores; they are, however, decidedly of an animal nature, and possess vitality without perceptible action or motion: Mr Montagu has divided the genus Spongia, into five families, viz. branched, digitated, tubular, compact, or orbicular. Only fourteen species were previously known, but Mr Montague has described no fewer than thirty-nine.

Salted bacon, and unsalted beef or mutton, and other kinds of animal

food,

food, when too long kept, or improperly cured, so as to be tainted with putridity, may be perfectly recovered, or rendered quite sweet, by being buried in fresh earth, a foot deep, for a few days.

In the awful and tremendous precipices of Hoy, in the unfrequented Isles of Orkney, some of which are 1400 feet perpendicular from the sea, have lately been discovered and taken, the nests of four different species of Eagles, which have their aeries in the pinnacies and projecting cliffs that surround the West side of the Island.

A prize of twelve thousand francs was offered in 1807, by the French Government, to that physician who should produce the best memoir on the disease called the croup; two have shared the prize, being of equal merit, three are distinguished as extremely honourable to their authors; and a sixth memoir is marked by the

proposal of a remedy that is said by the writer to be a specific in this malady, and in the whooping-cough. It is liver of sulphur alcalized, a sulphate of pot ash, recently prepared and brownish. It is usually given mixed with honey (we have known it given. with sugar.) The dose, from the attack of the croup, to the decided diminution of the disorder, is ten grains morning and evening, to be diminished as the disorder abates; and, towards the close, the morning dose only to be given. The mixture of sulphur and honey to be made at the moment of using. Young children will suck it off the end of a finger; but it may be given in a spoonful of milk, or of syrup thinned with water, or as a bolus; grown children take it best in this form. It usually relieves in two days; but it must be continued till the cure is completed, and sometimes beyond that period, for fear of relapses.

A MAY MORNING ODE, TO GRACEY.

SIGH'D from the April breeze, sweet May!

Thy visions cleave their aerial course, While Twilight, mild from gaseous source, Day's gray-hair'd herald, bends his way, Midst beds of orient ether borne, Lo! Summer leads her favourite morn,

Bath'd in a flood of dewy light. Spirit of gloom! thy viewless crowds Forsake their sphere of lingering clouds; O'er woodland wold, and hill serene, Effulgent opes the silver scene,

In azure splendour dight;

And rush'd from rest, brown labour's numbers,

Desert the midnight couch of transient slumbers.

Bright thro' the luring steep abyss

Sweet May-mern spreads her vestments blue,
Her locks of flame, her eyes of dew,
While Phoebus wings bis fiery bliss,
List, purl'd in labyrinths gently deep,
Clear Eden, lur'd with lonely sweep,

O'er Stitchel's laughing linn devolves; And every plant and blossom'd flower, Scatter in charms an odorous power; Sweet melts with minstrelsy the grove, Where rapture trill'd to notes of love,

In mutual song dissolves; While trembling to the tuneful treasure, Response, delightful rings his liveliest mea

sure;

How rugged frowns the mountain steep,
Umbrageous, o'er the lucent lake,
Where osiers dark their shadows shake,
In liquid life, the torrents sweep;
Yet, lovelier Tweed, thy waters roll
Thanever stream,belov'd,from fountain stole;

Enrapturing far the villag'd dale;
Deep glide thy bold romantic maze,
Reflecting fierce bright Phoebus' blaze;
While Teviot, wandering wild along,
In murmur sends his silver song
Athwart the listening gale;
Where beauty, nymph of cheerful mildness,
Reigns midst enchantment, o'er her paths
of wildness.

Hail, May! bright nature's virgin child,
Mild fan thy breath, the infant flowers,
While weeps the sky its genial showers:
Where glistening waves the leafy wild;
Virgin, thy healthiest odours bring,
Where, soft, these nursling babes of spring

Expand their beauteous orphan arms: Thus may'st thou meet th' embrace of mirth, And heaven's clear dews impearl thine earth;

Light be the echoing numbers borne
As usher thy cerulean morn!

Summer's ecstatic charms;

Bless'd charms, that oft in transport stealing, Lead, midst divine delights, the captive feeling;

While quiet rules the windless calm,

And sylvan Joy its thrilling shafts; While staid Content her influence wafts, And Health her halcyon summer balm : See, Gracey! where (propitious roll'd) That Sun in flames of lustrous gold,

Refulgent, liberal, mounts above. Leave then those seats, where dark desire, Enkindling, bursts to parent fire; Ere sinks the sun of life, declin'd, With all those gracious claims combin'd, That cheers the world with love. Hark! melody, with fierce emotions, Calls, generous to the morn, its glad devotions.

THE twinkling stars were dimly seen,
For Night had drawn her gloomy screen,
And labour'd bodies clos'd their een

In Sleep's saft pow'r,

When howlets sang the dirge o' Jean,
Frae yon auld tow'r.

At her decease, in surly mood,
The corbies scraigh'd frae wood to wood,
Wild, angry blasts, dash'd on the flood
Wi' spitefu' ire,

And frae the darken'd thund'ry clud
Came lowin' fire.

Ye beldames o' the sorc'ress kind,
Wha ride on bin-weeds thro' the wind,
And turn yoursels when you're inclin'd
To ony shape,

Come, come and bring ilk hell-bred fiend,
For Jean to weep.

And when the cluded moon beneath
Ye meet on yonder dark-brown heath,
As when nefarious Macbeth

Implor'd your aid,

Suspend th' ingredients o' scaith,

And wail the dead.

For nane o' a' the gypsie core,
In palmistry had siccan lore;
"In Jenny's bonny hand are more
"Lines o' guid luck,
"Than I ha'e read for tomonds four,
"In-nature's beuk."

When on Maria's snawy neck,
Or blushing crimson o' her cheek,
A mole appear'd-in language sleek,
The carlin vile

Predicted to the maiden meek
A gowden tale.

Around the ingle's lowe, at e'en,
Whan twa-three lasses did convene,
If chance that e'ening thither Jean
To them had sent,

How blithe was ilka simple quean, And weel content;

To hear what luck wou'd them betide
Wha first wou'd be a canty bride,
Or wha wou'd wander far and wide,
They fain wou'd ken,

Or thro' the weary warl' slide
Withouten men.

Jean kens their innocence, and soon
Slips aff her sair-wore dirty shoon,
Looks thro' the winnock to the moon
Wi' fearfu' glow'r,

And" Now, my bairns, I'll get it done, "Tis in my pow'r."

A pack o' dirty cartes appear,
Perhaps the pack o' Major Weir *,
She shuffles them wi' canny care,
And eager look:

"Draw now, my bonny, weel-faur'd dear, "Frae fate's dark book."

• The king o' spades,'—" A black-hair'd lad
"And sure a gard'ner to his trade."
The innocent believing maid,
Wi' bright'ning een,
Depends on a' that she has said,
And weel pays Jean.

The beldame shifts again the cartes,
And Nanny draws the ace o' hearts;
"Preserve's!" she cries, and then imparts
The happy case,

"A man o' geer, a man o' parts,

66

My bonny lass."

"The flourish'd tree, that you will rear, "A stately son."

Again, when barren wives were met,
Glow'rin' in drink, in keen debate,
O' fum'lin' Watty, or o' Pate,

They loudly rair;

Till Jean, the messenger o' fate,
Ends the affair.

The hoary sybil turns the lees
O' china tea-cup, by degrees;
Now she inverts it, now she gies
A glow'r oblique,

Ilk foolish carlin tremblin' sees,
But darna speak.

"Now let us see what Fate has done,
"Bless us!" she cries," a pretty son;
"He's your's, kind Mirren, he will crown
"Your days wi' joy:

"Drink, wives, and send a health aroun', "Unto the boy."

Believing a' will come to pass,
Wi' glee they send around the glass,
Jean turns the bumper o'er her hause,
Unto the lad,

And after a mysterious pause,
Resumes her trade.

See how the carlin turns the cup,
And Margrate's heart is like to loup,
She stops-listen-" Behold the groupe
"O' bairnies braw;

"Nanse, Margrate, Janet, a' ha'e houp
"O'ane or twa."

Thus did this beldame, auld and fell,
And vers'd in a' the airts o' hell,
Impose on simple Ann or Nell
Her gypsie lore,
Or to illit'rate clod-poles tell
Her mystic pow'r.

But, O my kintra's fair, be wise,
Nor wi' sic demons vile advise,
In them nae real knowledge lies
O' ony sort,

And what they wickedly devise
Is for your hurt.

Did e'er ye ken ane o' her kind
Amang th' enlighten'd and refin'd?
No, no!-they love the cluded mind
O' auld and young,

And ever strive ilk sense to blind
Wi' flatt'ring tongue.

Then push the vagabonds aside,
Nor let them rest by your fire-side,
Except for mercy's sake when wide
The whirling drift,

Or lightning sweeps wi' awfu' stride
Alang the lift.

But, O respect the auld gray head
O' her that humbly seeks her bread!
Ye dinna ken what ye may need,
Life's a strange stage!

And gi'e her a bit orra-weed,
To soothe her age.

But mourn ilk ragged wand'ring quean,
Let water spouts rin frae your een,
Whither by highway side you're seen,
Or wimpling rill,

For, O! a' lies in earth wi' Jean,
O' gypsie skill.

And when the clouded moon beneath,
Ye meet on yonder dark-brown heath,
As when nefarious Macbeth
Implor'd your aid,

Suspend th' ingredients o' scaith,
And mourn the dead.

JAMES KING, Renfrew Militia.

A MORNING HYMN.

To Thee let my first offerings rise,

Whose sun creates the days,

Swift as his gladdening influence flies,
And spotless as his rays.

What numbers with heart-piercing sighs
Have pass'd this tedious night!

What numbers, too, have clos'd their eyes,
No more to see the light!

Sound was my sleep, my dreams were gay,
How short such time review'd;
My night stole unperceiv'd away,
I'm like the day renew'd.

This day Thy favouring hand be nigh,
So oft vouchsaf'd before;
Still may it lead, protect, supply,
And I that hand adore.

If bliss thy Providence impart,
For which resign'd I pray;
Give me to feel the grateful heart,
And without guilt be gay.
Afflictions should thy love intend,
As vice or folly's cure,

Patient, to gain the gracious end,
May I the means endure.

Thus from my fix'd or varying state,
Some virtue let me gain;

That Heaven, nor high, nor low estate,
When sent, may send in vain.

Be this and every future day,
Still wiser than the past;
That I may give, for every day,
A good account at last..

PRO

HOUSE OF LORDS.

Thursday, June 25.

THE Lords, in a Committee of Privileges,

decided against the claim of the Bishops of Meath and Kildare, to take precedency of the English Bishops, except those of London, Durham, and Winchester.

Saturday, June 27.

Lord Sidmouth brought down a message from the Prince Regent, (for which see the Commons,) which was ordered to be taken into consideration on Monday.

Monday, June 29.

Lord Sidmouth presented to the House a sealed green bag, containing papers with the information relative to the alarming riots in the northern counties, referred to in the Prince Regent's message. His Lordship then moved, that the Prince Regent's message be taken into consideration; and the message being read, proceeded to submit to their Lordships an address to the Prince Regent, in answer to the message of his Royal Highness. If they should agree to the address, he would follow it up with a motion for the appointment of a Committee of Secrecy, to examine the papers which had been just laid on their table. It was painful, indeed, to his Royal Highness's Ministers, to feel, that the necessity existed for having recourse to such a step as this; but the districts referred to in the message had too long been the scenes of violence, and their Lordships must be sensible that the most effectual measures were necessary for the suppression of these disturbances. The original cause of them appeared to be, the reduction of work, in consequence of the present agitated state of the world. But this was not the only cause. In this country, unfortunately, as well as in others, there were some who were ready to take advantage of the passions of the people, to foment and inflame discontent and disturbance.This, to a certain extent, he believed, was the case here. The subject would come before them on the report of the Committee, and this would direct their Lordships as to the measures proper to be adopted. In the August 1812.

mean time, he would move, that an humble address be presented to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent, thanking him for his most gracious message, and assuring him, that they would proceed immediately to the consideration of the information which his Royal Highness had been pleased to communicate.

Earl Stanhope observed, that there was not a word in the proposed address which was not very proper; but, at the same time, it was very much to be wished, that some farther explanation of what was intended should be given. He could not help also observing, that the Noble Viscount himself had been a great cause of discontent and disturbance; and regretted that any such step as this should be necessary to restore tranquillity:-but had they tried every other measure? Let them endeavour to preserve tranquillity, by conciliating the people, and leaving no just cause of complaint. Still, these unlawful riots must be suppressed, and he had no objection to the words of the address. He thought it right, however, to propose to add the following words," not violating the principles of the Constitution." -This addition was necessary, considering the vague and ambiguous state in which the Noble Viscount had left the question.

The Earl of Liverpool did not think that their Lordships would pledge themselves to do any thing tending to violate the principles of the Constitution, by agreeing to the address without the words proposed. If the Noble Earl meant, that it was a violation of the principles of the Constitution to depart, on extraordinary occasions, from the ordinary practice of the law, he completely differed from him 'on that point. Parliament had the power to adopt extraordinary measures to meet extraordinary cases, and it was perfectly constitutional to exercise that power.

Lord Holland concurred with the Noble Viscount who proposed the address, in the opinion, that it would be improper, in the present stage of the proceeding, to anticipate what measures it might be thought proper to adopt. He also agreed with the Noble Earl who spoke last, that it would be much more decorous to defer the discussion till the Committee had made its report. But,

at