give you time for it; we shall begin our march in a few minutes."

Constable. "What is it you demand of us?"

John. "At first we desire nothing of you, but leave to go through the town; we should have offered no injury to any of you, neither would you have had any injury or loss by us. We are not thieves, but poor people in distress, and flying from the dreadful plague in London, which devours thousands every week. We wonder how you could be so unmerciful!"

Constable. "Self-preservation obliges us."

John. "What! to shut up your compassion in a case of such distress as this?"

Constable. "Well, if you will pass over the fields on your left hand, and behind that part of the town, I will endeavour to have gates opened for you."

John. "Our horsemen cannot pass with our baggage that way; it does not lead into the road that we want to go; and why should you force us out of the road; besides, you have kept us here all day without any provisions, but such as we brought with us; I think you ought to send us some provisions for our relief.”

Constable. "If you will go another way we will send you some provisions."

John. "That is the way to have all the towns in the county stop up the ways against us."

Constable. "If they all furnish you with food, what will you be the worse; I see you have tents, you want no lodging.'

John. "Well, what quantity of provisions will you

send us?"

Constable. "How many are you?"

John. "Nay, we did not ask enough for all our company, we are in three companies; if you will send us bread for twenty men and about six or seven women for three days, and show us the way over the field you speak of, we desire not to put your people into any fear for us;

we will go out of our way to oblige you, though we are as free from infection as you are."

Constable. "And will you assure us, that your other people shall offer us no new disturbance."

John. "No, no; you may depend upon it."

Constable. "You must oblige yourself, too, that none of your people shall come a step nearer than where the provisions we send you shall be set down."

John. "I answer for it, we will not.”

Accordingly they sent to the place twenty loaves of bread, and three or four large pieces of good beef, and opened some gates through which they passed; but none of them had courage so much as to look out to see them go; and as it was evening, if they had looked, they could not have seen them, so as to know how few they were. De Foe.

AUSTRALIA.

AUSTRALIA is the fourth continent of the eastern half of the globe, or Eastern Hemisphere, as it is called. It is the smallest of all the continents; its greatest length from east to west being 2,500 miles, and its greatest width from north to south, 1,900 miles; its area is about five-sixths that of Europe.

It is divided into North Australia, Queensland, Western Australia, South Australia, New South Wales, Victoria. and Alexandra Land. The name Australia means "Southern Land."

But there are several other large tracts of land near it, as Tasmania, New Zealand, and New Guinea, and there are innumerable islands, some of very great size, all lying around it, or between it and the South Pole. As these are in the Great Pacific Ocean, the name Oceania has been given to this part of the world, embracing the four

divisions of Aus-tra-lá-sia, Ma-láy-sia, Mi-cro-né-sia, and Po-ly-ne-sia.

Australasia includes the three great tracts of Australia, New Zealand, and New Guinea, together with a number of smaller islands that lie close to it.

It is generally level, with highland ranges near the Eastern and South-Western coasts, but as yet the interior has not been much visited, the coast line being first peopled by colonists. Its climate is very dry and healthy, somewhat in temperature like South Italy, though hotter and drier, inasmuch as the sugar-cane is being largely cultivated in Queensland.

As it belongs to England, it has been mainly colonized by English people, who send wool, tallow, preserved meat, and many other products to this country. Being exactly on the opposite side of the globe to us, (so that if we could dig a hole under our feet, completely through the globe, we should come out in Australia), the days, nights, and seasons of the year are exactly the reverse of ours. Twelve o'clock at noon here is midnight there. Christmas is the middle of their summer, and July and August are their winter months.

There are no extensive forests, but vast plains suitable for the pasturage of sheep and growth of corn and other valuable crops. Their timber is of little value, but almost

all their trees and shrubs are evergreen.

The mineral products are gold, lead, iron, copper, and coal, but its greatest want is water, as it possesses scarcely any lakes or inland waters; and its rivers for the most part are not navigable.

It was originally inhabited by a race of savages, who retired inland when our colonists settled on its shores, and have been gradually conquered or driven more into the interior. The New Zealanders, (a kindred but more intellectual race), have now formed a league with the settlers on the terms of a partition of land, and will probably become civilized and unite with the inhabitants.— Rev J. Ridgway.

COKE.

COKE is produced by the partial burning of coal, in the same way that charcoal is from wood. The great source of coke is the gas manufactory, being the refuse left in the retorts after the gas has all been driven off; but the consumption of coke by railway engines, where coal would not be pleasant on account of the smoke produced, has become so great that it is necessary to burn coal for its production. This is done by a range of ovens, fitted up for that purpose, having iron doors which can be closed to any extent required, so as to regulate the draught of air. Dr. Ure gives the following, in his account of the coke ovens belonging to the London and North Western Railway Company :-An excellent range of furnaces for making a superior article of coke, for the service of the engines of the London and Birmingham Railway Company, has been erected at the Camden Town Station, consisting of eighteen ovens in two lines, the whole discharging their products into a horizontal flue, which terminates in a chimneystalk 115 feet high. Each alternate oven is charged, between eight and ten o'clock every morning, with three and a half tons of good coal; a whisp of straw is thrown in on the top of the heap, which takes fire by the glow from the dome which is in a state of dull heat from the preceding operation, and inflames the smoke then rising from the surface by the re-action of the hot sides and bottom upon the body of the fuel. In this way the smoke is consumed at the very commencement of the process, when it would otherwise be most abundant.

The coke, being perfectly freed from all smoky and light floating matters, by a baking of upwards of forty hours, is cooled down to moderate heat by sliding in

the dampers and shutting up the doors, which have been partially closed during the latter part of the process.

It is now observed to form uneven lumps, somewhat like a mass of basalt. These are loosened by means of iron bars, then lifted out upon shovels furnished with long iron shanks, which are poised upon swung chains with hooked ends, and the lumps are thrown upon the pavement, to be put out by sprinkling water upon them from the rose of a wateringcan; or they may be shifted into a large chest of sheet-iron, sent on wheels, and then covered up. Good coals, thus treated, yield eighty per cent. of an excellent, compact coke, weighing fourteen hundredweight per chaldron. Coke burns without smoke, and not so rapidly as charcoal. It is, moreover, considerably cheaper than that article." Saturday Magazine."

i

THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.

UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is hë;
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;

His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can;

And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow:

You can hear him swing his heavy sleage,
With measured beat and slow,

Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.