degree; he is as hot as ever, and still perspires; his mouth is in
flames, and he is driven to the necessity of quenching them with snow,
which adds fuel to the fire. The melting snow ceases to please the
palate, and it feels like red-hot coals, which, like a fire-eater, he
shifts about with his tongue, and swallows without the addition of
saliva. He is in despair; but habit has taken the place of his
reasoning faculties, and he moves on with languid steps, lamenting the
severe fate which forces him to persist in a practice which in an
unguarded moment he allowed to begin.... I believe the true cause of
such intense thirst is the extreme dryness of the air when the
temperature is low.--_Sutherland's Journal._

AN AUSTRALIAN MISS.

The precocity of the Australian youth, to be properly understood and
believed, can only be fully appreciated by being an eye-witness to
some of these very extraordinary young creatures. I have seen a girl
of ten years of age possess all the manner of an old lady of sixty:
she would flirt with three men at a time, and have a ready answer for
them when teasing her; would move like an accomplished actress,
manipulate gracefully, play whist, chess, and other games, and talk
about getting married. This child, for such I must call her, was a
greater mental giant than O'Brien, with his moving mountain of flesh,
and far more entertaining than twenty Tom Thumbs.--_Shaw's Tramp to
the Diggings._

THE DAY OF REST.

Rest, rest! it is the Day of Rest--there needs no book to tell
The truth that every thoughtful eye, each heart can read so well;
Rest, rest! it is the Sabbath morn, a quiet fills the air,
Whose whispered voice of peace repeats that rest is everywhere.

O weary heart! O heart of wo! raise up thy toil-worn brow;
The fields, the trees, the very breeze--they all are resting now:
The air is still, there is no sound, save that unceasing hum,
That insect song of summer-time that from the woods doth come.

And even that seems fainter now, like voices far away,
As though they only sang of rest, and laboured not to-day;
The hum of bees seems softer, too, from out the clear blue heaven,
As if the lowliest creatures knew this day for rest was given.

The spacious tracts of meadow-land, of bean-fields, and of wheat,
And all the glebe, are undisturbed by sound of Labour's feet;
The cotter in his Sunday garb, with peace wit