for the aquarium, as well as material for museum-preservation, or for microscopic examination, he ought to provide himself with a series of bottles or jars, securely fitted, into which his treasures can be dropped, and in which they may be preserved. A very simple but convenient and efficient apparatus for this latter purpose may be constructed out of an ordinary deal box, by placing a few spars across its interior so as to make divisions or spaces for holding jars or bottles in a secure position. My readers have all seen wine merchants' boxes constructed in this way; each box divided in the inside in this fashion, being, in fact, a portable wine-bin. Such an arrangement will keep the bottles or jars from being dis. placed, and a rope handle at either end of the box will enable the dredgers to transport their treasures at once conveniently and safely to any place, and almost to any distance.

The kind of bottles employed to contain the live-stock or dead specimens need cause no trouble or perplexity. All that should be attended to is the thoroughly clean character of the jars and of their corks or stoppers. Old pickle-bottles, prune-jars, or even jelly-pots with large bungs, to secure the contents, will suit. These and allied vessels will serve every purpose of the dredger, as well as more costly apparatus. Many objects (e.g., crabs, sea-anemones, etc.,) will not required to be immersed in sea water for preservation; such forms may be easily carried in an uninjured and healthy condition, and for considerable distances, by being loosely packed in wet sea weeds. I have known such organisms packed in this manner, make a long journey by post or rail, and arrive at their destination safely and in good trim.

And lastly, I need hardly inculcate upon the dredger the duty of cultivating a cheerful mind, under all the mishaps which may befall his little expeditions, as well as in those undertakings involving more serious outlay and having more important objects in view. The great secret of successful dredging is the doing of everything in a quiet, orderly manner; the avoidance of all fuss and worry, and the setting of the mind upon the thorough enjoyment of a recreation, which if rightly pursued, will renovate and amuse the powers and faculties alike of the body and mind.

In a future paper we may accompany the dredger in his expedition, and devote a little time and space to the description of the more prominent objects which the scientific search generally yields.

ANDREW WILSON.

A MYSTERY.

I.

ALL science teaches that we never die!
We know death only as a change of Form,
And not of Being; for, when at rest we lie,
When we have weathered Life's uncertain storm,
Then other laws shall re-assert their

sway

O'er the organic; and they will impel

The ever-shifting particles of clay

In other beings, in other forms to dwell!

II.

We never die! but in the scented flower,

The glistening dew-drop, and the waving grain, In the fair tendrils of the summer bower,

And spring's sweet blossoms, we shall live again Through all the ages; till what we call time. And space shall be forgotten; when we see Those mighty waters, fathomless, sublime, The trackless ocean of Eternity!

III.

And if this structure frail of molecules,
The Body, never dies, how fares the Soul?
Say, ye bold sceptics of our modern schools,
Where do you fix the spirit's final goal?
Brain function only, mere intelligence,

Shall with the brain itself decay and die;
But the atomic being shall vanish hence,
The inner self-the real immortal " I."

IV.

Then disembodied, and released as well,
From these imperfect senses, we shall learn
When the soul entered it's material cell,

Or if that soul was hidden in the germ;
What those germs are, and where the souls of those
That never ripened to organic life?

To eager ears Omniscience shall disclose
These mighty problems of polemic strife.

V.

The worlds above us, each mysterious star
That trembles in the firmament of night,
We do not see them as they really are,

But as they were, when first the rays of light
'That show them to us, left their distant shore,
A hundred, nay, a thousand, years ago!
But science tells us some are there no more;
So we see stars that do not really glow!

VI.

The universe is boundless-so the rays
Of light reflecting every earthly scene,
That has been since creation's earliest days,
Are shot into the starry vault serene,
And there move on for ever! So, in space
Is somewhere painted every secret deed,
Each crime or virtue of the human race,
A record for Omniscience to read!

VII.

Should some pure spirit, but desire to see
Some drama of a thousand years ago,
At such a star-world must his station be,

Where light would take that term of years to flow
From this our planet; and he would behold
That drama re-enacted! Clearer far

The meaning of Omniscience will unfold,

Exeter, 1875.

As such a being would flash from star to star!

F. B. DOVE ON.

THE HUNCHBACK CASHIER:

A TALE OF THE LAST CENTURY.

CHAPTER XIV.-Continued.

THE MASQUERADE.

MRS. PURCELL's cousins had sent their chariot to take the ladies back, and it was with a feeling of exquisite relief that Rose inhaled the fresh air of a balmy summer morning, after the stifling, close atmosphere of the masquerade rooms.

Mrs. Purcell's nephew, a Mr. Darlington, was with them in the chariot, and, as they could only advance slowly in the crowd, he was leaning from the window, exchanging jokes with the masquers, when he suddenly drew back, and pushing his aunt forward, said—

"Look at that old fox-hunter, on the opposite side of the way; isn't it your Winchester admirer, Squire Bramber?"

"Good lack, I declare it is!" answered Mrs. Purcell; "why what has brought the Squire to London? I should never have thought he would have ventured himself in this den of thieves, as he calls it."

"In truth, he looks quite lost," replied Mr. Darlington. “Let your Oliver run across, and persuade him to exchange his seat on horseback for a place in our chariot."

Mrs. Purcell willingly assented to this proposal, and Oliver was despatched with a message to Squire Bramber, who, when he heard who were the occupants of the chariot, at once dismounted, gave his horse into the care of his own servant, and working his way through the crowd, saluted his country friends with a boisterous "Tally-ho!' to the great amusement of all the masks in the vicinity.

Squire Bramber was a man of middle height, with a florid, sunburnt face, and a pair of merry, twinkling blue eyes. His estate joined some land owned by Mrs. Purcell, and this had been the inducement, so malicious tongues averred, which had caused him to pay his addresses to the fair widow. However, he did not employ any very great ardour in the chase, and never flattered the lady; but rather spoke his mind, in his usual blunt fashion, a little too freely sometimes.

"Whatever has brought you to London, Squire?" asked Mrs. Purcell, when the latter was seated in the chariot.

"Aye, you may well ask that," replied the Squire. "I didn't

think ever to have visited this Babylon again-I made an oath I wouldn't, the last time I was here-but for my misfortune. I have got into a confounded law-suit about that little property my uncle left me; and a fine belly-full I shall get! The lawyers will leave me nought but the bones, I'll warrant ye, after they have picked them clean. And now I have answered your question, ma'am, I might ask you, as to what brought you and Miss Rose, and your nephew here, in these outlandish costumes, when you ought to be in your beds? but I know, though I didn't half an hour ago. I have heard tell of masquerades; but I never should have fancied, unless I had seen it, what a set of born fools a parcel of sensible, honest people could make of themselves."

"I suppose you don't admire my costume, you naughty, rudespoken man," said Mrs. Purcell, playfully tapping him with her crook.

"Ads, bobs!" exclaimed the Squire, "if I must speak the truth, I'll tell you plain, ma'am. I think all that tinsel frippery becomes you mighty ill,-as ill as a fine laced coat, and silk breeches would become me. We are both of us, you and I, too plain-looking, and of too mature years, to ape, the one the mincing airs of a girl of sixteen, and the other the follies of a young man of fashion."

"Now, then, Squire, if you have done your preachifying," nterrupted the friar, with great irreverence of tone and gesture, "which, by the bye, will be of no mortal service to my aunt, I shall be glad to hear when you arrived in London, and how long you had been looking at the masks, instead of being in your bed, where you had as good a right to be, as we had."

"I arrived in London about an hour ago," replied the Squire. "I travelled by night, to avoid the dust and heat. I got in a little after daybreak. But i' fackins!" he added shrugging his shoulders; "t'will be long before I forget this fine scene. Why, when I got near the Haymarket, I didn't know what to make of it. The first thing I saw was a running footman, carried in a chair, foilowed by a waterman in the same kind of vehicle. Well, thinks I, this is a mighty fine thing, these young bucks of fashion are not content with ndulging themselves in every kind of extravagance; but, forsooth, they must send their servants about in chairs.'

"Oh, Lud, man, you will be the death of me !" exclaimed Mrs. Purcell, indulging in a long burst of merriment over the Squire's delusion, whilst Rose herself could not forbear laughing.

66

Pr'ythee wait a-bit," said the Squire. "I'l warrant you'll laugh more yet, you and your friar, who looks more like some crop. eared knave of a Puritan, by the way, than a jolly friar of Orders Grey. I had only gone a little way, when a clumsy sweep passed, also in a chair, with three footmen running before him. Every fresh