however, now used, and there are consequently many kinds of hats. The beaver hat, which is formed of felt and roughed with beaver; the plate hat, which is napped with musk rat; the felt hat, which has no nap; the silk hat, is covered with silk plush; and one which may be called the hemp hat, being almost entirely formed of that material.

It is not so much our object to explain or describe the slight deviations required in the construction of these several sorts of hats, but to convey to our readers a general knowledge of the subject. The description we are about to give has reference to the beaver hat especially, but is explanatory of the general process, whatever materials may be used, and whatever may be the quality of the article produced.

The body of the beaver hat is formed of lamb's wool, or that obtained from the lama, pacos, and other species of the camel, natives of the Andes. The nap is formed of beaver down, generally mixed with the down of the English hare, which is always shaven from the skin, or there would otherwise be the roots preventing the entire union of the two substances.

The workman has first to form the hat, which is done in the following manner. A certain weight of materials, sufficient to construct the hat, in the proportion of a half of rabbit's fur, about a quarter of wool, and the remainder of red wool and carded silk, is given out to the workman. These materials are placed upon a board or bench, about five feet in length, and the rabbit's fur is placed in a heap, over which is slung a large bow, such as that used by violin players, only much larger, being about six feet long, and proportionately strong, with a stout single string. This bow is brought immediately over the heap, and is struck with the thumb, thus producing a vibration, which separates the hairs. When this has been done perfectly, the whole mass is swept away with a wicker frame to one corner of the bench, and the wool is brought forward and bowed in the same manner. The hair and wool are then placed together, and bowed till they are perfectly mixed. They are then spread in an even surface with the wicker-frame, and covered with an oilcloth, called the hardening skin; after which they are pressed by the workman till the fibres intermix, and make a comparatively solid layer. A piece of brown

paper, in the form of an equilateral triangle, is then damped, and placed on one side, the edges of the material being turned over upon it. This is done to prevent the matting of the two surfaces. The mixed materials are in this state wrapped in damp cloth, and rolled and unrolled, pressed, bent and folded in various directions, so as to unite the substances more perfectly.

When the basoning, as this process is called, has been completed, that of planking is commenced; so termed from the place on which the operation is performed. A series of planks, generally about eight in number, are ranged as inclined planes around a lead boiler, containing beer-grounds, sulphuric acid, and

water.

In France, wine-lees were used instead of beer-grounds, but have of late been rejected; as they were only useful from the acid they contained; sulphuric acid is found sufficient. This compound being raised to the boiling point, the workman, placed on one of these planks, sprinkles the prepared wool and fur, and continually presses them together with a thick piece of leather, which covers the whole palm of the hand. The moisture and pressure together cause a shrinking and thickening of the material, and the more so as it is rolled and worked. It is then dipped into the liquid again, and after the same rolling is again scalded, and, when pressed by an iron rolling-pin, is placed in a stove to dry.

The next operation is that of stiffening. A saturated solution of shellac, in spirits of wine, is applied by a brush to the inner surface of the felt; after which it is again placed in a stove; and should any part of the liquid pass through to the other surface, it will cause a roughness, which may be removed by immersion in a hot solution of an alkali or borax, which may be easily removed by a copper scraper. The stoving is then repeated, and any long hairs above the felt are removed by singeing over a fire of wood shavings.

In this manner the substance of the hat is formed; and we now come to a consideration of the process of napping. About half or three quarters of an ounce of beaver's fur, and a small quantity of cotton, is bowed down in the manner already described, and a felt, about three inches longer than that of which the body is constructed, is formed. A strip, three inches wide, is then torn off to

cover the upper part of the brim of the hat. To apply the roughing, the body is first dipped into the boiler, and the nap is fixed in its place with a wet brush; it is then rolled in a hair cloth, dipped into hot liquor, and made to mat with the felt by processes similar to those by which the felt itself is made. We have now the material of the hat, but its shape is conical. The next process is that of blocking. By slow and careful means the cone is drawn out into a cylindrical form, and being drawn over a wooden block, is tied to it. The dyeing is the next process, which is done by boiling for some hours in a solution of sulphate of iron, verdigris, gall-nuts, and logwood. A deep and permanent black is thus produced. When drained and dried, the goods are taken off the block and sent to the finishingroom. The first process here is steaming over a jet, which softens the hat and renders it very pliable. A piece of scaleboard is fastened to the under side of the crown to strengthen it, and a piece of linen is pasted over to keep it in its place. This being done, the hat is placed upon a block, and means are taken to smooth it, that is, to give the nap a uniform direction. It is then trimmed and finished off in that shape which may happen to be at the time most fashionable.

In reference to the manufacture of silk hats, we may be permitted to make one quotation, which will convey to the reader all the information that can be given in this article. "Silk hats, as they are commonly called, were invented some years ago. They are hats with a thin wool body, and a nap of silk. But as silk is not capable of felting, it was necessary to discover some other method of fixing it on the body. After many trials, that which has been finally adopted has been to take the silk manufactured into plush, with a pile of unequal length, and to sow it together into a cover, just capable of fitting the felt body. This latter is then smeared over with an adhesive resinous mixture; and as soon as it has become dry, the bag or cover of silk plush is drawn over it, and fixed firmly to the body by means of a hot iron; it is then finished in the usual way."

There are many uses to which felt is applied. The polishing wheels of those who work in brass are covered with it; and it is a substance precisely suited for the purpose required, as it retains the

oily and other substances necessary in the process of polishing. It is also occasionally used as a filterer, for which it is well adapted. But the most important application of felt is to the sheathing of vessels. The copper with which the keel of a ship is covered, is soon corroded by the action of the sea water, and is also in a short time completely covered with shell-fish and vegetable substance, which greatly impede the sailing of the ship. To prevent this, the copper is covered with felt, which, from its very composition, hinders the adhesion of those substances which would otherwise attach themselves to the copper.

"THE WASTED FLOWERS."

"O MAMMA!" exclaimed little George, as he ran to meet his mother and me, as we were approaching him, while he and his little sister were busily engaged in play, "O mamma! Annie has wasted all her flowers! They did not die, but she pulled them to pieces." And so it was, for on coming near to the little girl, we found her sitting on the gravel-walk, weeping bitterly over the still beautiful though scattered fragments of the flowers, which she had in childish wantonness destroyed. Poor Annie! her loss was easily remedied, and her tears soon wiped away by a bounteous, though I thought an injudicious supply of fresh-gathered roses, which, doubtless, ere an hour had passed, would share the same fate, and, perhaps, be wept over with the same sorrow.

As I turned away from the spot, little George's simple words, "Annie has wasted all her flowers," still seemed to ring in my ears, and I thought with grief of how many the same complaint might be made, and how many hearts have had to mourn over the waste of flowers more precious than Annie's. The gracious Sovereign and Disposer of all things has, it is true, appointed this life to be a pilgrimage; yet, in compassion to our feeble nature, he often strews our pathway with flowers, that we may be cheered and refreshed by their sweet fragrance. He gives us not only what is necessary for sustenance, but at times makes the bright blossoms of earthly joy to bloom around us in great abundance. And even those who are led through a more barren and rougher road, may always discover, if they look with faith and patience, some buds of hope entwining with

the briary fence which encompasses their steps. Yet how daily are these tokens of God's love misused or destroyed; and in our own experience, how constantly do we find that we have ourselves torn to pieces the flowers we tenderly loved. The blending of soul with soul in friendship; the quiet hours of domestic peace; the ardent glow which thrills the mind on every new intellectual acquisition; and the deeper and higher privilege of communion with a world of spirits, are joys which I doubt not have been felt by many of us; but who can say that they have improved to the utmost these pleasurable feelings which the benevolence of God has provided for our happiness whilst on earth? In the closest friendships there are few who have never, by thoughtless irritability, or careless inattention, wounded the hearts of their bosom friends; and even when this has been guarded against, where is that one who has at all times kept within the bounds of sanctified affection, and made the love of the creature subordinate to the love of God! Surely, when this heart-idolatry is indulged in, we are wilfully wasting our flowers.

Then, with regard to social happiness, how little self-denial do we exercise, how few sacrifices are we inclined to make, in order to keep the blossoms of domestic peace flourishing in their pristine beauty, and how often are they seen to droop and fade under the short yet blighting gusts of selfish contention! Is not this wantonly wasting that lovely flower which was perhaps the first ever bestowed upon man?

I might mention many, many more of the gifts of Providence, which we delight in, and yet sometimes seem bent on depriving ourselves of, such as health, property, the sympathy of others, and those golden opportunities of usefulness which we ofttimes earnestly desire; and yet, when they are given us, suffer to pass away unimproved. But I must leave these, and just for a moment glance at two particular ones, which are, I fear, especially misused. And, first, there

ever be his lot and condition in life! And are these too wasted? Let each one put the question to his own heart, and call to mind the numerous sabbaths which have been bestowed upon him, and the manner in which their sacred hours have been too often squandered, and he will indeed find that it amounts to a fearful sum of misspent blessings.

One more of Heaven's bright gifts, which is often wasted, I cannot but refer to, and to illustrate this little Annie may again be alluded to. She is an only daughter, the long-wished for. child of most affectionate parents. Their eldest child, who was likewise called Annie, died many years ago, and they earnestly longed for another girl to take her name, and to become to them what she was. But for some time it seemed otherwise ordained, and though they had six children, they were all boys, and their parents almost murmured. About four years ago little Annie was born, and hardly ever have the warm feelings of fond parents' hearts been lavished out in more injudicious indulgence than upon this idolized darling. Every wish, every whim is immediately gratified, and not the slightest opposition is suffered to be made to her will; as for any kind of restraint or punishment, it is entirely out of the question. The effects of this foolish education are already perceivable; she is a sweet little affectionate thing when she has her own way; but thwart her inclinations, and violent fits of crying ensue, which are generally ended by yielding to her wishes. From my heart I grieve over that child; she is indeed a lovely flower, intrusted to her parents to be cherished and taken care of, but they seem determined to waste and destroy her loveliness; and if they do not soon see and endeavour to repair their error, they may in future years have to weep bitterly over the blighted appearance of their once promising bud. O, mothers and fathers, watch over your flowers, and suffer them not, either by sinful indulgence, or idle neglect, to grow up into rank and useless weeds.

their individual and collective beauty, and in their mutual adaptation for designed and to yield the just tribute of praise and adoration to the wisdom, goodness, and power that first created, and still preserves them. As the works of God, they are all perfect, and in this they differ from the works of man. No rational creature, however intelligent, could find a shadow of fault with what might appear the least perfect, nor suggest in any the most insignificant alteration for the better.

The works of creation are all rendered directly or remotely serviceable to man. Some are essential to his support, others seem chiefly designed to afford him innocent gratification. Now, as none of the objects by which we are surrounded are made in vain, so neither are the faculties with which we are endowed bestowed without design. Why are we taught more than the beasts of the field, and made wiser than the fowls of the air, unless it be that we may employ our su perior powers in investigations of which they are not capable? No doubt that we may inquire after God, our Maker, and that his works may be sought out, and taken pleasure in by us; and that thus our minds may be led through nature up to nature's God."

The branch of natural science to which these remarks are introductory, is Botany. This science is, as it deserves, daily becoming more generally popular as a recreative study; and such are its pleasing results and advantageous tendencies, that we heartily wish the number of its followers multiplied ten thousand times. Can we suppose that the beauties of creation were designed to impart pleasure only to a few? No, not only are they "free to all," but, "The love of nature's works is born with all, Is an ingredient in the compound man; E'en in the stifling bosom of the town, A garden in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothes its rich possessor.

It serves him with a hint that nature lives."

Whoever can despise, or affect to despise, the simple pleasures that spring from this source, evinces a mind either perverted by the too close pursuit of some other and perhaps less worthy object, or contracted in its estimate of the relative importance of surrounding objects.

Let us glance at the effects or results of a pursuit of this study. It will not be questioned that it is highly important for us to walk frequently in the whole

some and bracing air, giving the limbs proper exercise, and recruiting the spirits. Now, in the study of this science there will be a continual inducement to embrace opportunities,

"To trip with agile foot the steepy down,
Or velvet lawn,"

to experience,

"The charm

Which morning has that gives the brow of age A smack of youth, and makes the lip of youth Shed perfumes exquisite."

But for want of motive or object, the hour of exercise, being determined by caprice or accident, is of seldom and irregular occurrence.

When the mind has been awakened by previous knowledge to a thirst for more information respecting botanical knowledge, every fresh plant will be an object of inquiry and investigation, and every familiar object will excite some feeling of delight. We should also remember, that food and exercise never have so full and salutary an effect as when the mind is pleasingly employed, so that those who are destitute of scientific knowledge do not derive from a walk the full amount even of physical advantage. Another result of the inquiry, if pursued with humility, will be the melioration of the mind and heart. God's works and his word should be studied in connexion with each other; his word is the light by which we read his works, and his works all of them illustrate and confirm his word. There can be no doubt that the disposition of a man is materially characterised by whatever frequently engages his thoughts; and our best feelings and faculties are expanded and invigorated by that wholesome exercise of them which is insured by a contemplation of the works of the Deity. As citizens of the world, it undoubtedly devolves upon us to fill our various stations with fidelity and diligence; but surely that man is to be pitied, whose first and last thoughts are engrossed in the prosecution of schemes for the acquisition of wealth. And it is after all a wretched economy that such a man should covetously and blindly refuse to divide his thoughts with any thing, however excellent in itself, that has not a direct tendency to forward his mercenary views. What is the consequence? Why, in all cases a shrivelled and contracted intellect, which frequently loses all thirst for subsequent improvement. In ten thousand instances a physical de