Could shake thee to the roots; and time has been and superstitions, coming down to us from When tempests could not. Time made thee what thou wert-king of the wood! the remotest periods of history. The Greeks believed that Jupiter took the oak under his protection, as it was consecrated to him, after his birth, beneath the shadow of an oak in Arcadia; he gave to the oaks of The oak is invested with manifold legends Dodona the power of augury. The civi And time hath made thee what thou art-a cave crown of the Romans was wreathed from the leaves of the oak; and the priests and priestesses of Druidism celebrated their mysteries in groves of this deeply-venerated tree. "The sacred oaks, Among whose awful shades the Druids strayed, The young trees usually produce acorns when they are about fifteen or twenty years old. These acorns, or "oak-mast," were once of great importance; indeed, the word "acorn" itself seems to indicate the use to which it was put: aac-corn; aeccorn; or oak-corn, being, before the age of cereals, the staple diet of man and beast. Even seven hundred years ago, when wheat-corn, and other aliments, had, in a great measure, superseded the consumption of mast, considerable reliance was still placed upon the acorn harvest; and oaks were chiefly valued for their fruit or corn. The Saxon chronicle of 1116, recording the terrible dearth and mortality of that year, says"This year, also, was deficient in mast, that there never was heard such in all this land, or in Wales." Pliny states that the Romans held mastbearing trees in high repute; also, that in Spain acorns were brought to table as dessert. By the Domesday-book it would appear that in the time of William the Conqueror oaks were of little worth, except for the food they afforded to swine, which were fed in vast herds in the forests; for the value of woods in several counties is estimated at the number of hogs they would fatten. Spanish pork meat and Westphalian hams are said to owe their peculiar excellence to the swine being fed on mast, which our limited forest-lands cannot any longer afford. "Let India boast her plants, nor envy we The bark of the oak is largely employed in tanning the skins of animals; at one time it was exclusively used for this purpose; but in 1765, oak sawdust was applied in tan-yards; and soon afterwards other substances were used wherein it was discovered that tannin abundantly resided. It is said that our gardeners are indebted to William III. for the knowledge that tan refuse could be applied to horticultural purposes; but it was not till 1719 that it came into general use and estimation as an important agent in producing artificial heat for the growth of exotic plants. It must be remembered, however, that the acorns of Southern Europe are, compared with ours, large, sweet, and succulent; hence, perhaps, their mention as an article of ancient luxury. And we must also bear Those singular excrescenses called in mind that the glans, frux, fructus of "galls," are more numerous on the oak the Romans, and the Saxon mast, corn, than on any other tree; they are caused by cern, kernel, were all generic terms, and the puncture of a minute insect, called included not only the modern acorn, but "gall-flies." The "oak-apples," and the the nuts of many trees-as the oak, chest-pretty, currant-like "oak-spangles," studnut, beech, and, subsequently, fruit at large. The use of oak-timber dates from the growth of civilisation, though the ancient Britons appear to have had some sort of an oak-built navy; and the Romans complained of the toughness of their shipsides, on which the beaks" of the armed ding the under side of the leaves, are of this nature; but the gall-nut of commerce, so largely employed in our dye-houses, and in the manufacture of ink, is the produce of a foreign oak-the Quercus Infectoriaa small timber-tree, growing wild in nearly all countries bordering on the Mediterranean, but specially indigenous to Asia Minor and the coasts of the Levant. The cork-tree is also a species of oak. The Velani-oak, growing on the Dardanelles, in the Islands of the Archipelago, and indeed throughout Greece and the maritime ports of Asia Minor, is valuable on account of the cups of its acorns, which have been proved to partake of the nature of gall nuts; these Velani-cups are known in commerce as the article called “valonia;" it is much exported from Smyrna and its neighbourhood. The scientific term, Quercus is derived from two Celtic words-queer, beautiful. and cuez, a tree. The oak is the badge of the Scottish clan Cameron. So much for the botanical history of the tree-for its uses domestic and commercial, and for its time-honoured associations. And now one word for its exceeding beauty. How fair it is in the early summer-its bright green, indentated leaves waving in the golden sunshine! Fairer still as the season advances, and its great arms are stretched out against the azure heavens, and its, broad, deep shadow lies heavily on the turf beneath-most gorgeous, perhaps, when its fruitage is shed, and its foliage is wearing its richest hues of orange, tawny red, pale green, and rich, clear brown; and, grand even amid the storms and snows of winter stand its majestic form -still a king of the woodlands-sere and bare in all its desolation-the lord of the forest wild-the undoubted monarch of the green woodlands! "Mark yonder oaks! superior to the power Of all the warring winds of heaven hey rise, And from the stormy promontory, tower And toss their giant arms amid the skies, While each assailing blast increase of strength supplies." WHERE ARE OUR LOST ONES GONE? LEITCH RITCHIE, ESQ., WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE JANUARY 16TH, 1865. "Of quiet, retiring disposition, and occupied entirely in literary pursuits, Mr. Ritchie had no large circle of friends; but by that select, if small, number, he was respected and loved as a genial and cheerful companion, accomplished and well read, of kindliest and most gentlemanly manners and feelings."-Scotsman. A WORD of thee, departed one! who long Hast borne about thee in the walks of life More than a passing memory; for oft And brighter sparkle, thine the praise must be! To hear a sound of praise upborne from earth SONG. TO-NIGHT, love, we sit 'neath the old elm-tree, And I'll twine a wreath of wild flowers for thee; WHERE are our lost ones gone? Where are they'll hie to the woods for a wild-rose spray, now? Rest they beneath thy waters, troubled sea? Hold'st thou for aye their souls in thy dark care? Oh, no! I feel thine answer thus would be, "Not here, not here, they are not here." Oh, tomb! thou dreary house of dank decay! "Not here, not here, they are not here." "Twere vain to ask of sea or tomb, or aught, "Tis there, 'tis there; yes, it is there! And I'll pluck some white bloom of the perfumed In some sweet, shady, sequestered spot, I'll roam o'er the moor for the heather-bell's bloom, A PAINTER of some eminence, famed for the beauty of his designs and the careful arrangement of his colourings was once engaged to decorate a lofty ceiling, and his best efforts were put forth to do justice to the piece selected for its adornment. He gave all his energies to the work that it might prove worthy of the edifice it graced. Flowers, tinted with gorgeous splendour, sprang almost into life at the magic touch of his skilful pencil; lovely forms floated before the sight, clad in misty drapery, which seemed but a part of the fleecy clouds, that only half concealed their beauty; angel faces bent over silver streams whose clear depths mirrored their fair images. It was a "dream of Eden," that world of innocence ere man forgot his first obedience and turned his " garden of delight" into a "howling wilderness." The picture was completed, and the painter's heart pronounced it " very good;" but, before the scaffolding was removed, he ascended once more to take a nearer survey of his imagination's beautiful creation. Long and earnestly he looked upon his cherished work, his gaze fondly lingering upon the dear "children of his brain." At length he turned, his eyes dazzled by the brightness of the colours he had been contemplating; his foot was poised, in the act of descending, when a workman, who stood upon the same platform as himself, seeing his danger, uttered a shrill cry. The artist, startled by the sound, sprang forward, looking upward as he did so; the action saved his life, but alas for the poor picture! by the swiftness of his movement his arm had swept across its surface, and the brightest and most beautiful of his fancies was a shapeless mass, without form or comelineas. Reader! does not this little anecdote furnish a subject for much thought? Surely, surely, are we not all "painters?" do we not "all make pictures" for ourselves, ourselves being the foremost figures in them? and does not some false step, some sudden failing of our senses engendered by the giddy height on which we stand, sweep out at one fell stroke the fairest and most cherished object in those "pleasant pictures?" Even so! We enter the arena of life with a mighty work before us; a great "charge to keep," a childhood to be improved, a manhood to be lived, an old age to be comforted; to us are given sweet hopes and noble aims, soul-breathings that tell undoubtedly of a "beyond;" and, yet, how often are we found gazing at some “dream of Eden,” some bright creation of our romance, rather than of our reason! Not that we were ever intended to live entirely in the real and actual, to the utter extinction of all that is beautiful and imaginative-far from; it. The heaven toward which we journey, we are told, is so full of beauty, that even "Dreams cannot picture a world so fair." And the very earth on which we live is teeming with a loveliness seen in its myriad flowers, scented on its spicy breeze, and heard in its "ten thousand tongues;" its every changing scene possessing some fresh attraction even while it changes. With such surroundings it is but little marvel that the heart goes forth after what is fair, and builds its castles in strong hopes that they will be lasting, and not "melt into thin air;" paints its pictures in colours which rival the famous "Syrian blue," peoples its shrines with glittering idols Chaldean idols, half gold half clay," and thereupon institutes a veritable image-worship. But, going back to our starting-point, we read that the painter, through gazing on his work, was in danger of losing his life, for had he fallen from the height on which he stood, death would have been inevitable. He had been so absorbed in the contemplation of his darling scheme that he forgot how far he was from the solid earth, and but for the cry which aroused him and made him look above, he would assuredly have been killed. He was saved, but what was the result? "Whate'er hath been, again may be, Once marred and defaced, there is no and strength, spread over stern reality the beautiful flavour of a sweet romance. But there are other and waking dreams that come to us, seemingly bearing all the attributes of reality and fulfilment. Some one goes forth upon his lifejourney with the one aim-wealthin view, and every energy is put forth to accumulate that glittering bauble-gold. He succeeds; his expectations are realised, gain comes to him in every shape, and he lets his mind "dream on "and on, over the treasure he is laying- up for himself. The picture is completed he sees no fault in it, and he loses thought of everything in the contemplation of what his industry has wrought. Suddenly, when he stands on a height that turns his head dizzy, a cry is heard, and “ruin " is borne upon the wind's breath-an arm is swept across the fair prospect, and his " picture is disfigured and spoiled, his golden city a heap of ruins. And thus it is with all the great human family; not only do they build “castles in the air"-those evanescent structures that a breath may annihilate; not only do they "see visions and dream dreams," based merely upon a foundation of "fleeting fancies," dreams that come at odd Another covets a laurel crown-the times and moments when the mind, deathless glory of living in the hearts of relieved from the pressure of its every men long after his own shall lie cold and day occupations, makes "Sabbath in the pulseless; and leaf by leaf the coronal is soul," and puts itself far beyond "the woven, and many knees are bent before trivial round, the daily task." These, the shrine of intellect and wisdom. He these are all ours!-some natures in- gives his whole soul up to the dream, dulging in them more largely than others,life's fitful fever" has mingled with according to imagination or tempera ment; and, partaken of moderately, such recreation is surely not hurtful, for "much of the bliss of life lies in our dreams," and many a poor traveller, "weary with the march of life," has been cheered and helped by the thoughts that clustered, like many-tinted blossoms, around the garden of his heart. It is when these dreams are indulged in to an extent that interferes with the great end of our being, and causes us to neglect the duties we owe to ourselves, our friends, and society in general, that they need to be struck off the roll of our innocent pleasures-being innocent no longer. Like everything else, they have their use, and our's is the fault if, through the abuse of them, we turn them from their proper and legitimate service, which is not to rob us of energy and unfit us for our appointed calling, but to revive the sinking spirit, and, by infusing fresh hope every waking thought; but a murmur of Again, we find a soul who has staked all its happiness on another; who leans, as only those who love can lean, upon that other's superiority, or, at least, integrity, who for long years has watched every varying change of countenance; who has read every look, and treasured every word; whose friendship is, to "more than human friendship just;" whose love is "more than fiery words can tell, deep thoughts explore," till every doubt seems lost in the ocean of a full and perfect faith. Alas! that such a dream should have its waking; that such a life-like resemblance to Eder-bliss should ever be |