THE LONDON AND TIT

"TT"

f all things, summoned h How various his subseque

PLATE V.

Child's robe of peach-coloured silk, trimmed with purple velvet and crescents of silver; white sleeves of worked net. Hat of fancy Tuscan, with strings and rosettes of strawcoloured ribbon.

The bonnet on the left is particularly worthy of notice; it is composed of blue crape, with a network of straw round the rim and across the centre; three beautiful artificial butterflies adorn each side, placed on puffings of the same material as the bonnet; strings of blue satin ribbon.

The chapeau to the right is of white lace, with a bunch of green leaves each side.

The right hand bonnet above is of rose-coloured satin, with a wreath of white roses round the edge.

The other is of yellow silk, trimmed with pink flowers. The caps are of white and black lace, crape, blond, &c. adorned with roses and ribbon.

Collar of muslin, fastened with tassels.
Sleeves of embroidered cambric and lace.

PAPER MODELS.

The cut-out model with this number is of a mantle very pretty and novel, which may be made of velvet, satin, or watered silk, with deep fringes of the same material, trimmed profusely with black lace.

SONG OF THE BEES.

WE watch for the light of the morning to break,
And colour the gray eastern sky
With its blended hues of saffron and lake,
Then say to each other," Awake, awake!
For our winter's honey is all to make,

And our bread for a long supply."
Then off we hie to the hill and the dell,

To the field, the wild wood, and bower;
In the columbine's horn we love to dwell,
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,
To search the balm in its odorous cell,

The thyme, and the rosemary flower.
We seek for the bloom of the eglantine,

The lime, pointed thistle, and brier;
And follow the course of the wandering vine,
Whether it trail on the earth supine,
Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,
And reach for a stage still higher.

As each for the good of the whole is bent,
And stores up his treasure for all,
We hope for an evening with heart's content
For the winter of life, without lament
That summer is gone, with its hours mis-spent,
And the harvest is past recall! DR. AIKIN.

41

RECITATIONS MUSICALES.-The second series of concerts, under this title, terminated most brilliantly last Thursday, at Willis's Rooms, which were filled by a highly aristocratic assemblage. We observed, among the patronesses, the Countess of Dunraven, the Ladies Walsingham, Jane Walsh, Gore Booth, Frankland Russell, Georgiana Codrington, Payne Gallwey, the Hon. Miss Murray, and other ladies of distinction; all of whom appeared highly to appreciate the entertainment. This was afforded exclusively by MM. Binfield, whose solos, duets, testets, &c. afforded a sufficient variety to detain the audience, and to produce an increasing enthusiasm to the last morceau in the programme. Mr. William Binfield's new cavatina, composed for these concerts, was much applauded; and his perfect method and brilliant execution were conspicuous in all his vocal efforts. Mr. W. R. Binfield gave, on the piano, Liszt's Serenade and Chopin's beautiful Scherzs with great effect, and the morceau d'ensemble, consisting of new arrangements of works scarcely known in England, were much applauded. We must distinguish the admirable solos on the harp by Mr. Henry and on the concertina by Miss Margaret Binfield; also the brilliant duets for piano and concertina, harp and concertina and two harps; and we look with much pleasure for the next series of these interesting entertainments.

An Irish gentleman gave orders for a pair of boots; and, when his measure was taken, he observed to the bootmaker that, as one of his legs was bigger than the other, the boots must be made accordingly. When they were brought home, he put the big boot on the small leg; and after trying in vain the small boot on the big leg, he exclaimed-"O you thief of the world, I ordered you to make one boot bigger than the other; and, instead

How many

PINS.

occasions of instruction do we daily omit, or pervert to the worst purposes! How seldom are we aware, that every atom of the universe is a text, and every article in our household a homily! Few out of the immense female population of these realms but in some way are beholden to pins; and yet how few, how very few, derive any advantage from them, beyond a temporary concinnity of garments, the support of an apron, or the adhesion of a neckerchief; they stick them in at morning, and pull them out at night, daily, for years, without enlargement of intellect, or melioration of morals. Yet there is not a pin in a tailor's arm, but might teach the wise of the world a lesson.

Let us divide it into matter and form, and we shall perceive that it is the form alone that constitutes it a pin. Time was when it slumbered in the chaos of brazen metal. Time was, too, when it was molten in the furnace, when the solid brass became as water, and rushed from its ore with a glowing rapidity. When this took place we know not; what strange mutations the metals may have undergone we cannot conjecture. It may shone on the breast of Achilles, or ejected the spirit of Hector. Who knows but it may have partaken of the sacredness of Solomon's lavers, or have gleamed destruction in the mirror of Archimedes?

have

From form, then, is derived disgrace or dignity; of which the poor passive matter is but an involuntary recipient.

Just like this pin is man. Once he was, while yet he was not, even in the earth, from whence the spirit which pervades all nature, and contains in itself the forms and living principles of all things, summoned him to life and consciousness. How various his subsequent fates! how

his genius! how terrible his valour! yet still the poor human animal is the same clod of earth, or the same mass of bullion, that is sown by the seeds that float in the atmosphere of circumstance, and stamped by the dies of education and example.

See him in the decline, in the super-civilization of social life. He is sunk to a pin. His sole solidity is brazen impudence. His outside mercurial glitter, a counterfeit polish, as deleterious as it is attractive; composed of changeable fashions, that glide away like quicksilver, and like quicksilver are excellent to denote the changes of the season.

Consider the head of a pin. Does it not resemble those royal personages which the English have been in the habit of importing from foreign parts to govern them? For, observe, it is no part of the pin, but Superinduced upon it, a mere exotic, a naturalized alien. It is a common remark, upon a person of moderate intellects, that he has a head, and so has a pin; but I believe, it is to our national rather than our individual heads that this is meant to be applied; for what similarity can there exist between the silliest head that grows between a pair of shoulders and an adventitious nob, owing its elevation wholly to the caprice or convenience of a pin-maker? But if the public head be intended, the analogy is strong enough for a commentator on the Apocalypse. A foreign prince, by the wisdom of a British parliament, became united to the headless trunk of the nation; becomes part of us by force of time and adhesion.

But if the head be thus dignified, shall the point want respect, without which the head were no head, and the shaft of no value, though, in relation to these noble members, it is but as the tail? Is it not the operative artificer, the pioneer to clear the way, the herald to announce, the warrior to subdue opposition? How aptly does this little javelin typify the frame of human society! What the head of a pin would be without its point, and the point without the head, that were the labourer without the ruler, or the ruler without the labourer.

There is one more resemblance I would fain suppress, did not truth call for its statement. That pin may long glitter in the orderly rank of the paper, or repose in the soft security of the cushion; it may fix itself on the bosom of beauty, or support the cumbrous honours of her train; but an end is predestined to its glories. It shall one day be broken, lost, trampled under foot, and forgotten; its slender length, which now is as straight as the arrow of Cupid, shall be crooked as his bow; and it shall share the fate of fallen kings, and exploded patriots.

CREMORNE GARDENS.-The season seems at last to have set in fine and dry, and favourable for out-door amusements, which in England cannot be enjoyed with the certainty and the regularity they can on the continent; hence we ought to feel the more indebted to those who risk their capital and take infinite pains and trouble to provide them for us. The proprietor of Cremorne Gardens-who, last year, did much to render that locale a most agreeable place of resort-has, this year, done still more. The trim and neat manner in which the grounds are kept reflects credit on all concerned. They are laid out in the best style of landscape gardening; and decorated with fountains, vases, statuary, and Chinese embellishments, most tastefully arranged. These grounds

form a most agreeable promenade, even without any of the entertainments which Mr. Simpson has so liberally provided; and, when the charms of music are added, they are indeed delightful.

Like the gale that sighs along

Beds of oriental flowers,
Is the grateful breath of song,
Heard in happy, joyful hours.
Fill'd with balm the gale sighs on,

Though the flowers have sunk in death;
But, when Pleasure's dream is gone,

Its memory lives in music's breath.

And when we have the reality, and not the mere reminis cence, music highly enhances the enjoyment. But there are many varied entertainments besides music. Balloon

ing and horsemanship; and a ballet get up in a style which it is no fiction, but simple truth to say, no one could believe would have been attempted at Cremorne, had he not seen it. And well is that ballet performed. The sylph-like figures who take part in it would not disgrace the boards of Her Majesty's Theatre. We could say much more, but we are afraid we should be accused of extravagance. We therefore say to our readers, “Go and judge for yourselves." And if, when The moonbeam light, Serene and bright, Upon the world is streaming;

And not a cloud
Remains to shroud

That moonlight in its beaming;

"I'LL take thee where thou wilt find it still cooler," said the ladrone, advancing as he spoke, and seizing the horse's bridle, as if to lead him away. "Come, you have followed your own inclinations far enough; suppose, by way of variety, that you now follow mine." The boy sprung snddenly into the saddle, and grasped his weapon firmly, as he replied:--

"Out of my way, ladrone, or it will be the worse for thee. I am no craven imbecile of the South, but an American born and bred; the blood of a warlike and dauntless people flows in my veins; and I tell thee, I will set my mark upon thy villainous carcase, in characters too indelible to be erased, if thou dost not let go thy

hold."

The only reply of the robber to this burst of patriotism, was a rude and insulting laugh; but ere he had finished it, a blow from the stock of the boy's rifle, which he disdained otherwise to make use of, outstretched the utterer senseless upon the dusty path. Released from the grasp of the hand which had stayed him, the animal, as if instinctively comprehending and participating in his master's feelings, sprang forward at the instant, and

obeyed the motions of the hand of him who bestrode him with an alacrity which betrayed his blood.