"COME," said Miss Fearon, "as it is a fine day I will sit down here outside the cottage this evening, and hear you."

Lucy, as she mostly did, went through her task well; but Jane, somehow or other, could not get on-something or other always seemed to hinder her. She was not an idle girl, but her task was always like a puzzle to her.

"I will tell you how I think it is," said Miss Fearon, "you have not yet learned how to learn."

Jane was more puzzled than ever-"never learned how to learn," she thought to herself, "what can that mean."

Miss F. explained-"I mean, my dear, that you have not found out how to give over thinking about other things, and think about nothing but your lesson when you are trying to get it. That is the way to learn how to learn.

THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS.

PERHAPS of all the objects on the earth's surface, none are so sublime or so calculated to strike the mind of a spectator with awe as a massive and towering range of mountains. We cannot even gaze upon the gentle elevations of our own country without surprise: but with what language should we express our feelings could we behold the great Himalaya chain? That most stupendous range of huge rocks whose granite peaks rise snow-capped into the heavens seven times higher than the highest hill on the British Isles !

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On the north of the East Indian plains stand these majestic monuments of that Almighty power which weigheth "the mountains in scales." They serve as a great barrier between India and Thibet, 1,500 miles long, 250 miles broad, and from 15,000 to 29,000 feet high. This stupendous chain is visible at the amazing distance of 230 miles (equal to the whole length of Ireland). Snow remains all the year round upon all its peaks. O! what a scene must this be to gaze upon! What a field for contemplation! The mind of man in vain tries to grasp any accurate idea of the overwhelming grandeur which is presented, and he exclaims, "Great and marvellous are thy works, Lord God Almighty."

Often the accumulation of snow is immense, and when the slopes are not able to sustain it, then it descends with tremendous velocity, gathering speed as it moves along, tearing up trees and rending away fragments of rock, till it is stopped on the lower regions. These are called avalanches, carrying

"Havoc and devastation in their van."

Some idea of their power may be formed when you are told that this moving mass is sometimes composed of a square mile of snow, from 100 feet to 200 feet deep.

In the valleys, where the temperature is usually about freezing point, glaciers are to be found. These are vast fields of ice occasioned by the melting of the snow from above, which is afterwards frozen. The following is a description of one by M. Vigne, situated in the Himalayas, where one of the Indian rivers takes its rise-"The glory of the valley is the glacier at the end of it. Its lower extremity is a short distance from the village of Arindo, and the natives say that it is slowly but perceptibly advancing. It occupies the entire valley as far as the eye can reach, and a place that looks more like the end of the world does not exist in nature. Vast mountains, alike bare, precipitous, and rugged, appear to form a channel for it, and in the extreme distance their sides are coloured with the red and white tints of iron and gypsum. The width of the lofty wall of ice, in which it terminates towards Arindo, is about a quarter of a mile; its height is nearly 100 feet. I have never seen any spectacle of the same nature so truly grand as the opening of the waters from beneath this glacier. The ice is clear and green as an emerald; the archway lofty and gloomy. The stream that emerges from beneath it is not a brook, but a large and ready formed river, whose colour is that of the soil which it has collected in its course, whose violence and velocity betoken a very long descent, and whose force is best explained by saying that it rolls along with it enormous masses of ice, that are whirled against the rocks in its bed

with a concussion producing a sound resembling that of distant cannon.' But these glaciers are not void of service to man, although they occupy valleys which might be made to supply his wants, for from hence is supplied, as from an inexhaustible reservoir, rivers of water to refresh the sunscorched plains of India. How wonderful the works of God! Crossing this range is extremely perilous. Many annually perish in the attempt. Some are frozen to death, for some of the passes are 18,000 feet high. Others, by the rarefaction of the air and cold, are overtaken by a drowsiness, which, if yielded to, ends in a never awaking sleep. Others are buried in the snow, overwhelmed by avalanches. Some fall accidentally over precipices into a deep abyss, or perish in other ways. Danger and death everywhere abound; the forlorn traveller is never safe. Every precaution often fails to shield him. These passes are, however, the only routes of communication between the countries divided by the Himalayas, and therefore all trade and intercourse must be conducted by crossing them somewhere. The highest point ever reached by man on this range is 19,411 feet. The ascent, though so hazardous, has its attractions. Wonders abound on every hand. The Indian slope being well watered, and the temperature varying with the elevation, nearly every variety of vegetation is met with on the ascent.

Here we take leave of the Himalaya, with its towering snow-capped summits and its dark abysses, its overhanging precipices and yawning caverns, its avalanches and its glaciers, its spurs and vales, its rugged rocks and fertile slopes. After beholding the sublime scene we must exclaim,

Thine, O Lord, is the greatness, and the glory, and the majesty." What a day will that be when these everlasting hills shall bow! When the "elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up." J. F.

Wellingborough.

BALMY SLEEP.

WHEN day, with all its labour, ends,

And night her empire claims,
How softly balmy sleep descends
Upon our wearied frames.

On rich and poor, on small and great,
God doth this boon bestow;

It visits monarch's in their state,

And beggars in their woe.

It giveth to the weary rest,
And to the sick relief;

While mourning ones, by sorrow prest,

In sleep forget their grief.

Oh! pity those who all the night

Toss on a couch of pain,

Who long to see the morning light,
And woo sweet sleep in vain.

Let sleep an emblem be to all
Of death, our last repose,

When in the grave our bodies shall
Find rest from earthly woes.

Why should believers fear and weep
When thinking on the tomb?
God giveth his beloved sleep,

And takes their spirits home.

DORA.