only reaches the age of five years. How terrible this fact is may be proved by comparing it with the mortality among children in a healthy parish-say Lewisham-where, out of five children born, only one dies before the completion of the fifth year. In two localities in Kensington, densely crowded with the poor-Jenning's Buildings and the Potteries-the average duration of life, from excessive infant mortality, was found, a few years since, to be only fourteen years in one and fifteen in the other; while in the neighbourhood of Palace Gardens, and other magnificent localities in the same parish, the average duration of life was found to be forty-three years. Six years since, from excessive infant mortality in the parish of St. Clement Danes, the death-rate exceeded the births; while in the average of the metropolis, the births exceeded the deaths by thirty per cent.

By comparing these figures, it will be found that we in London have little to boast of on the score of superior humanity to children; nor can we show by it that our system is better than that of the French, or whether the establishment of a general hospital for the reception of deserted or neglected children is less advantageous than our own method of affording a greater amount of outdoor relief to parents in distress. At the same time it should be borne in mind that the French themselves are by no means decided whether an institution such as the Hospice des Enfans Assistés is to be approved of. The opponents of the systemand they are many-maintain that this boasted facility offered for the protection of deserted children is a pseudo-philanthropic idea, only worthy of a barbarous nation, as the principal benefit it offers is merely to smooth the short passage of the poor infant to the grave. A better law, they maintain, would be to supply the mother with means for supporting her infant herself. Even though this, at the commencement, might be a somewhat greater expense, they argue, the infant, the mother, and even the state itself, would in the end profit by it. That although it is possible public opinion, educated in the present false system, might object to so radical a change, there is no doubt that in the end the advantage of assisting the mother, instead of depriving her of her infant, would be fully admitted. The French advocates for the maintenance of the asylum argue, that the system which can preserve the lives of the greater number of children is the one which should be adopted; and they attempt to prove, that although the mortality of children admitted into the Hospice is indisputably great, it would be far greater were it abolished. Again, if a weekly allowance to poor and respectable parents might be preferable, how is the distinction to be drawn? It should be taken into consideration, they say, that the majority of parents who give up their children are not respectable, and that they are precisely of the class who would apply to their own comfort whatever allowance they might receive from the hospital authorities-leaving their own children to starve. Again, by allowing disreputable parents the possibility of relieving themselves from the maintenance of their offspring, a vast amount of the terrible crime of infanticide is avoided.

How far this latter argument may hold good in France it is impossible to say. Certain it is, that our system in London, of giving pecuniary outdoor relief to indigent parents, is no security against infanticide. In this crime we are sadly afraid we are in advance of most of the other European capitals. The number of infanticides which are known to take place in Paris does not exceed three hundred annually. In London we fear our coroners would give a very different account. The late Mr. Wakley once informed us, that he believed the number of children in London who annually met their deaths from unfair means was more than two thousand.

Nothing can be kinder than the attention the poor de serted infants receive in Paris at the hands of the hospital authorities. Every precaution that science can invent, and the purest benevolence can put in force, is adopted. Thirty wet nurses are always kept at the Hospice, so that there shall be no abrupt change in the food of the infant. As soon as it is weaned it is placed at nurse in the country, where it remains under the inspection of the hospital authorities till it is six years of age, when it is brought back to Paris to be placed in the schools. Each child on its entrance into the Hospice has its name carefully registered, and the parents can at any time receive information respecting their offspring on payment of the sum of five francs; or they are allowed to take them from the Hospice on payment of the expenses which the authorities have incurred, which is estimated at about 41. English money per child. It is hardly necessary to state, that many of those parents who have been capable of deserting their children never claim them again, even when their circumstances would enable them to do so. A considerable number of the children, however-especially those between two and four years of age-are taken from the Hospice and adopted by

a

SPONGE.

short

It

BUT few of the many people who use sponge could say whether it is an animal or a vegetable production. was not until comparatively time since that the voice of the best naturalists decided it was an animal. Dr. Johnston, in his "Treatise on British Zoophytes," says:-" Sponges, therefore, appear to be true zoophytes; and it imparts additional interest to their study to consider them as they probably are, the first matrix and cradle of organic life, and exhibiting before us the lowest organization compatible with its existence."

Sponges are divisible into fresh and salt-water sponges, and these again have each several subdivisions.

When a sponge is taken out of the water there is seen to escape from it a fluid resembling in appearance the white of egg. The substance from which this fluid exudes will be found, on examination, to consist of a number of slender threads so interlaced as to form a

complete network. These threads are horny, smooth, and of unequal thickness, and form the outer covering to minute spikes of siliceous or calcareous matter.

When examined under

a

strong magnifying glass,

these objects are found to consist of inorganic pieces, having an internal cavity, the function of which is not known. Those composed of siliceous matter are for the most part needle-shaped; the calcareous ones are more varied in form, some of them having three or four prongs at one end. The two sorts are not found together in the same sponge, and sponges in which a great number of either kind are found are too rough and harsh for domestic purposes. These and the horny threads together make up the fabric which is the home of the sponge animal. In and out of it the gelatinous fluid mentioned above, flows and reflows, carrying on in the labyrinth of horny passages the different processes of its little understood life. For the sponge animal exists in this fluid, which has an unctuous feel, emits when burned a fishy smell, and appears to the naked eye as a transparent colourless medium, like white of egg. Examined under the microscope, it is seen to consist of very small, transparent, spherical granules, which are taken to be the very sponge animals themselves. By some wonderful process of secretion and assimilation, these strange creatures subtract from the water in which they live the elements necessary for the construction of their house; and pile and cement them after so workmanlike a sort, that nothing short of violence will destroy the fabric they rear out of them.

The appearance of common sponge is too well known to need description. The small pores, leading to large channels which have ramifications extending all over the sponge, are literally the "drawers of water." They suck in, obediently to some unknown law of currents, the water by which they are surrounded, conveying to all parts of the spongy system nutriment and vigour; and, leading on to the larger channels, are the means by which the waste water, excrementitious matter, and all foreign intruders, are cast into the draught. The small pores suck in, the large-mouthed holes shoot out; and diffused throughout them both is the agglomeration of cells which, united, present the appearance of a gelatinous fluid. The outgoing current has yet another office: it conveys from the interior of the sponge, where they are prepared, the minute sacs or vesicles which are the germs of other sponges. The animal nature of sponge is confirmed, if further proof were needed, by the fact that when sponge is taken from the water, it not only has a fish-like smell and savour, but if allowed to die naturally, it will be found to undergo a process of putrefaction. Some of them turn blue, others black; while others again, which in life were soft and elastic, and of bright lively

colours, on suffering death become friable or crumbly and turn white.

"Fine

Although sponges are to be found in every sea, there are certain places where the finest habitually grow, and the same kind of sponges which are found in one part are not of necessity found in another. The Mediterranean, especially about the Greek islands, affords the best specimens for domestic purposes. Turkey" sponge comes from thence, and nearly every sort of sea-sponge grows there. Around our own coasts, however, and in our own fresh waters, as many as seven sorts of sponge are found. Some of these must be sought far below the surface of the water, and they are never uncovered. They cling to shells, rocks, or other objects at the bottom, and sometimes to living creatures. Dr. Johnston, in his "History of British Sponges," mentions an instance of the Halichondria oculata, which is not uncommon on the British coasts, being found growing over the back of a crab :-" A burden apparently as disproportionate as was that of Atlas-and yet the creature has been seemingly little inconvenienced with its arboreous excrescence, for it is big with spawn in a state nearly ready for laying. Indeed, the protection and safety which the crab would derive from the sponge might more than compensate the hindrance thus opposed to its freedom and activity. When at rest its prey might seek without suspicion the shelter afforded amid the thick branches of the sponge, and become easy captives; while when in motion scarce an enemy could recognize it under such a guise.

PROFITABLE BEE-KEEPING.

UCH has been said and written as to the importance of saving the lives of bees. In fact, however, only the very young bees- those, I mean, which are hatched after the month of July-live till the following spring. By all means save these. Therefore, if it is neces

sary to plunder a hive of

all its stores, let the old bees be first got rid of. The brimstone pot in this case is the quickest and most merciful of deaths, but use as little brimstone as possible, so as not to injure the brood. Then, after cutting out the honeycomb in the manner described in the last chapter, set the deserted hive with all

its uninjured brood-comb while still

warm upon or under some strong neighbouring stock. The bees will go into it, clean up the combs and hatch out the young brood. Later in the year the plundered hive can be taken away and laid by in some dry and dark place. Take care of it, because next summer you can put a swarm into it. The bees will soon make beautiful new comb in place of the honeycomb you cut out of it the year before, and they will give you all the more honey for the empty comb you have given them. There is great waste in cutting out all the combs of a hive. They will be found to contain very little pure wax, but for breeding purposes they are as good as new combs, if not too old. Should they be very black and old it would be better to melt them down, but comb remains good for breeding purposes seven or eight years.

I must here caution the reader not to forget to put several sticks in the hives managed on this principle. There should be three or four of them placed crosswise, so as to support the combs. Place them about throe

inches from the bottom of the hive, and be sure to use a thin spatula or sharp knife in removing the top and cutting out the honey.

A few words must be said about rectangular hives of wood, which are now so commonly used. They are very good, but being for the most part more costly than the hives I have described, and requiring the shelter of some shed or other covering, they will rarely be made use of by the cottager. I have however seen, in the gardens of the poor, all sorts of boxes, such as old candle-boxes or tea-chests, and a great deal of honey has been collected in them; but they will not last long if exposed to the weather, and they look very shabby and untidy. A good size for wooden boxes is from thirteen to fourteen inches square inside measure, and eight inches high. They should have their top

boards screwed down. A two-inch hole in the middle will be sufficient. Common deal wood-red deal in particular-is a very good material for their construction. Let it be not less than three-quarter inch stuff. The top boxes or supers, as they are called, which go on these hives, should be made somewhat smaller-say a foot square and five or six inches high. Let all hives and boxes be of the same size according to their kind, whether stock boxes or supers, so as to fit accurately one on top of the other. Every hive, too, should have its own bottom board on which to rest distinct from the pedestal on which it stands. This board had better be half an inch wider than the hive itself, projecting beyond it; there should also be a small alighting board a few inches square in front of the entrance to the hive. As to the entrances themselves, they should be long and low, say five inches wide and three-eighths or a quarter of an inch high. They may be narrowed in winter by a small block of wood to half their width, and even more when wasps are troublesome; but plenty of air is at all times conducive to the health of the hive, and in the busy season the bees are much incommoded and hindered in their labours by having too narrow thoroughfares.

WHERE TO PLACE HIVES.-Suppose now that you have got your first stock or swarm, the next question is where to place it. First choose a snug place in a warm and sheltered part of your garden facing the south, south-east, or south-west; if partially shaded from the noonday sun so much the better. Put your hives each on a stout post let firmly into the ground. They should stand separately at least two feet distant

from each other. Next cover them well over with an earthen pan or neat hackle of straw, thick and well made; the latter should be renewed once every year. Nothing is so hurtful to bees as to expose them to the heat of the summer sun or to rains and melting snow. Bees suffer from both heat and damp, and the hives soon rot and fall to pieces.

No cabbages, lettuces, grass, or weeds of any kind should be suffered to grow just in front of or beneath the hives. The bees often come home laden and tired, and fall down before they reach their hive entrance; in which case they often perish from getting entangled and chilled among these plants, especially in cold and rainy weather.

It is well to place hives within reach of water; they must not, however, be too near a pond or river, which becomes a watery grave to multitudes in gusty weather. A shallow stream trickling through grass or purling over stones is what suits them best; but if there is no water near, some large dish or milk-pan should be sunk in the ground hard by in a corner where it is sunniest in the forenoon. Fill it up with largish stones and water, or float some pieces of wood in it for the bees to alight upon it without risk of drowning when they come to drink. They cannot do without water in spring and summer, and if they find none near they will go long distances in search of it.

P. V. M. F.

THE BROKEN MIRROR.

In the happy golden age, before sorrow and crime were known, Astræa walked on earth in unveiled beauty. In her hand she

bore a mirror in which Truth had looked and had fixed her immortal features for ever. And all men gazed upon the mirror and saw the just and undistorted likeness of Truth.

But the happy golden age did not last for ever. The world grew corrupt, and Astræa could no longer walk among men in her brightness. Sorrowfully she fled from the abodes of guilt and misery, but as she fled pity filled her soul for the fate of mankind, and she cast down her mirror to the earth, that the image of Truth might still be seen among men.

The mirror was broken into a thousand fragments by its fall,

and wise men, who came seeking after the image of Truth, gathered up the shining fragments, here one feature and there another; for, I know not by what strange blindness, none of

them perceived that the mirror had been broken. As time passed on, each discovered that something was wanting to complete his discovery, yet never thought of looking at his neighbours' fragments, but reasoned for himself what the whole ought to be, and assumed that every piece but his own was a deception. "See," one would say to his circle of followers, "the lines are thus and thus; you have only to prolong them so far in their own direction beyond the edge of the mirror, and we obtain such a form as, you perceive, harmonizes exactly with all that the mirror includes. What can be clearer? And yet my opposite neighbour pretends that his mirror is genuine, while the outlines are utterly different. Now he must be in error; he has picked up a bit of common looking-glass, has seen his own face in it, and thinks he has found the image of Truth."

And so the wise man pieced out his fragment with the best imitation of its substance that he could devise, and thereon sketched what he thought would complete the face of Truth. Then he admired his work, and exhibited it as the genuine form of the lost image, and convinced other people, and himself too (which was the strangest thing of all), that now the mirror was just as it had first descended from above, As not one man only, but many acted thus, there were many images of Truth abroad in the world which had scarcely a line in common; and, oh! what maimed and ill-formed shapes were some, what grim and terrible ones were others! Often, too, it seemed that those who had only gained possession of the smallest fragment of the original, and had to supply the most from their own fancy, were of all men the most vehement in boasting the genuineness of their own pattern, and most bitter in condemning all others. Perhaps the fragment being often all but invisible in the midst of the additions, the lines of junction where the true and the false were pieced together became the less perceptible, and the contrast between them much less manifest than where the original piece was larger. Many and bitter were the disputes, the quarrels, yes, and even the combats, over the fragments of the broken mirror.

Yet all were not deluded. The difference between the

portion of the real mirror and the additions had the quality of revealing itself to persons of a peculiar disposition and patient observation. There were some men who would gaze and meditate so long and so fixedly upon the genuine portion, as to

get an instinct which would feel the difference of the made-up pieces which went round it, and these men would the rest

a shadowy picture in their minds of what was really like; a dim picture it is true, and not much more than a shadow, but still something very much nearer the reality than anything the other people had devised. It is worthy of notice that these people had always been kindly disposed to their neighbours; and so far were they from quarrelling about the image of Truth, that it was never heard they had even pretended to possess her complete lineaments. Perhaps they had a conviction-so I have heard that only Astrea herself could ever perfectly clear away all that was worthless, and fit each fragment of the mirror into its ancient place, so as to make it once more complete and beautiful.