JAN. 2-3. 
MOOSE'S SURAL NEW-YORKER: AN AGRICULTURAL AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER, 
33 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
NORTH - WESTERN CANADA, 
and the lake superior region 
GLIMPSES BY A RECENT TOURIST. 
ARTICLE SECOND : 
Toronto is one of the most active and growin 
cities in Canada, and I may add the least English 
and most thoronghly American. In walking its 
streets one sees little that is essential and perma¬ 
nent which reminds him of British dominion, 
buildings are solid and well constructed, but 
general grimly deficient in ornament. It is tempo 
rarily the capital of Canada, the final locality 
the government not having yet been determined 
The Parliament House and Governor’s residence 
are unambitious in the extreme. But the public 
edifices for the purposes of education and benevo 
lence are well worthy of the enterprise of the city 
The buildings for the University, in process 
erection, will be, when finished, equal to any on 
this continent. The Normal School, under the 
general control of Dr. Ryerson, so honorably iden 
tified with the history of public education in Can 
ada, is well accommodated in a substantial struc 
tnre on a fine park within the city limits. 
Toronto i3 remarkably favored with facilities for 
education and were it not for the extent of its 
lake commerce and manufactures it would 
known and celebrated as a University town. It is 
foreign from my purpose to describe its educa¬ 
tional institutions, and it is sufficient to say that 
their professors are learned and enthusiastic schol 
are, earnestly devoted to their work. 
A close inspection of the streets and places of 
resort soon reveals some elements which remove 
the first impression of a traveler that he has been 
set down in one of our western lake towns. Officers 
in the undress uniform of the British army—stiff 
orderlies stalking on errands—queer nondescript 
pony chaises, illustrating every variety of ugliness, 
but always images of comfort—the plain costume of 
the ladies in the streets, — the clatter of the heavy 
English brogans, — the bad fit of the gentlemen 
coats,— the absence of the sharp, eager looks and 
rapid, springing step which mark the businessman 
of the States,—told unmistakably that we were out 
of Yankeedom. 
We took our quarters at the Rossin House, a new, 
and beyond all question the most elegant and well 
appointed hotel in British America. Its spacious 
and airy rooms and excellent table gave evidence 
that the managers had been well educated in the 
art of purveying comforts, and we were not sur¬ 
prised to learn that they were graduates of Con 
gress Hall in Albany. After waiting a day or two 
beyond the time set for our departure for the gov 
ernment to get the appointments ready for the Red 
River expedition, we secured our state-room for 
the steamer and took the cars for Collingwood 
where she was waiting our arrival. The successive 
and vexatious delays had made us impatient, and 
a movement in any direction was delightful. 
Western Canada is the counterpart of Western 
New York. From Toronto to the foot of Lake 
Erie stretches a tract of the finest farming land, the 
principal part of which lies south of a line drawn 
from a point a few miles north of Toronto to the 
foot of Lake Huron. The best agricultural country 
on the route to Georgian Bay lies between lake On 
tario and the height of land which forms the water 
shed dividing the streams which fall into the 
Ontario from those which fall into Lake Simcoe 
and Georgian Bay. This summit is passed about 
twenty-five miles north of Toronto, the grade of 
the railroad being 700 feet above Lake Ontario 
From thence to the foot of Lake Simcoe there is a 
gradual descent, the lake margin being 474 feet 
above the harbor at Toronto. Lake Simcoe is 
about 300 square miles in extent, and is surrounded 
by a fringe of fine inland towns, some of which 
form favorite watering places for the people of 
Toronto during summer. From thence to Colling¬ 
wood there is a gradual descent of 100 feet, giving 
a fall sufficient for the outlet of the lake by the 
river Severn into Georgian Bay. The road for this 
part of the route passes through a level district, 
with a cold, sandy soil, with occasional tracts cov¬ 
ered with pine timber. 
It was dark, rainy and cold when we arrived at 
Collingwood. After getting a bad cup of tea, in a 
dirty, noisy tavern near the depot, we managed to 
find our way down a long pier to the steamer, 
which was to be our home for the coming two 
weeks. We found everything in confusion, but by 
the kind offices of the polite captain we managed 
to get possession of a state-room which had just 
been added to the upper deck. It was as yet with¬ 
out a wash-stand or a door, but having got a cur¬ 
tain nailed over the entrance, and having secured 
some temporary apparatus for making a ladies’ 
toilet, we managed to get a sound night’s sleep— 
We were compelled to make up our minds for 
another delay of twelve hours, which gave us am¬ 
ple time to look around our steamer, survey our 
port, and examine our fellow-passengers. Colling¬ 
wood is a town of shingle palaces, arranged in a 
semi-circle around the head of Nottawassaga Bay. 
It has grown up since 1854, and is said to contain 
2,000 inhabitants. This estimate, from all appear¬ 
ances, would be nearer the truth if reduced fifty 
per cent. The principal street follows the line of 
the beach, while the unbroken forest lies close in 
the rear. Last year a regular line of steamers ran 
from Collingwood to Mackinaw and Sault Ste. 
Marie, but it was found unprofitable and has been 
discontinued. There is some little trade to the 
upper lakes, and a considerable amount in the fish 
taken in the bay and carried to Toronto. The 
value of the fish taken in this vicinity is said to 
amount to $160,000 a year. At present the town 
seems to be in that condition which physiologists 
call “arrest of development.” Stagnation was most 
visible even before the advent of the financial 
crisis. 
Our steamer was small for lake navigation, sharp, 
narrow, and would have been a fast vessel had her 
engine been as powerful as her tunnage demanded. 
Her lower deck and the pier presented a most he¬ 
terogeneous conglomeration of crew, passengers 
and cargo. Three or four enormous birch canoes 
thirty-five feet long, and as many of smaller size, 
were “in transitu” from the pier to the upper deck; 
METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS, MADE AT ROCHESTER, STATE OF NEW YORK. 
UNIVERSITY OF ROCHESTER — ANNUAL ABSTRACT —P 
Latitude 43°, 8', 17*. Longitude 77°, 51 
B. PALMER, OBSERVER. 
Height of Station above the Sea, five hundred and sixteen feet. 
1857. 
i Jan. 
| Feb. 
March. 
April 
[ Map. 
| June. 
| JCLT. 
| August 
| Sept. 
| Oct. 
| Nov. 
J Dec. < 
.Monthly Mean. 
i 15.5 
25.8 
31.6 
38.3 
54.4 
63.2 
73.0 
68.0 
63.0 
48.3 
37.2 
34.6 
Highest Degree.... 
36 
62.5 
55 
58 
86 
86 
95 
88 
88 
72 
66 
52 
Lowest Degree. 
1—12 
5 
9 
13 
32 
43 
56 
55 
46 
30 
11 
1.8 J 
Range. 
48 
57.5 
46 
45 
54 
38 
39 
33 
42 
42 
55 
34 j 
Warmest day. 
30 
17 
18 
5 
25 
28 
27 
13 
13 
12 
8 
Coldest day. 
18 
11 
2 
2 
10 
3 
2 
17 
29 
21 
25 
.Monthly Mean. 
29.60 
29.56 
29.44 
29.37 
29.88 
29.27 
29.43 
29.42 
29.53 
29.47 
29,35 
29.46 | 
Highest Observation 
29.99 
30.15 
29.81 
29.80 
29.69 
29.52 
29.69 
29.67 
29.S6 
29.77 
30.03 
29.99 | 
I.owest Observation 
29.12 
29.11 
28.99 
28.83 
29.06 
28.67 
29.08 
29.00 
29.06 
29.04 
28.33 
28;65 | 
Range. 
.87 
1.04 
.82 
.97 
.63 
.85 
.61 
.67 
.80 
.73 
1.90 
1.34 ? 
.North. 
North-East. 
East. 
South-East. 
South. 
South-West. 
West. 
North-West. 
1% 
096 
2% 
6% 
4 
9 
6 
2 
2% 
1% 
3% 
6 
2% 
7 
8% 
0% 
l* 
8 
8% 
«% 
4 
1% 
0% 
2% 
Iff 
4 
4 
3 
1 
1 
5 
8% 
6% 
3% 
4 
1% 
1% 
2% 
3% 
3% 
5% 
8% 
Iff 
8* 
3 
7% 
6% 
1% 
4 
2% 
0% 
0% 
3% 
6% 
10 
4 
4% 
3% 
i* 
$ 
4% 
3% 
~ ' 6 ~ 
6H 
r 
2% 
S* 
F 
3% 
10 
’ H»% 
2% 
iff 
S* 
4% 
46.1 
Aknual Results. 
18545. 
46.77 
27th July 
18th Jan. 
1.82 
42% 
24% 
12 % 
17th July. 
9th Jan. 
30.0S 
28.48 
1.60 
26% N. 
19% tf. E. 
15 E. 
23% 8. E. 
31 % 9 . 
106% a w. 
101 w. 
Total of each Month 
31 
J_a 
1 31 
30 
31 | 
30 
31 
31 
' 30 
31 
30 
1 ' 31 | 
365 
866 
S W 
Prevailing Winds.. 
w 
1 w 
1 w 
vv 
S W | 
N W 
S W 
W 
s w 
N K 
W 
W 
W eathe r .Fair days. 
3% 
l i 
1 3% 
5 
3 1 
3 
14 
14 
12 %“ 
6 % 
s%~ 
1 6 %' ^ 
81% 
131% 
234% 
366 
90 
Cloudy days. 
%7H 
1 27 
1 27% 
25 
23 | 
27 
17 
17 
17% 
2 -1% 
26 q 
j 24% S 
283% 
355 
Total of each Month 
31 
| 28 
1 31 
30 
31 | 
30 
1 31 
31 
30 
31 
30 
1 31 ! 
Rain. 
Snow.. 
Rain and Snow. 
2 
J_7_ 
1 4 
4 
13 | 
18 
6 
7 
13 
13 
7 
99 
15 
1 6 
1 9 
8 
1 | 
0 
9 
0 
9 
o 
4 
~j 4 
47 
77 
0 
1 3 
1 2 
3 
0 1 
9 
o 
o 
9 
o 
4 
~i 4 
16 
U 
Amount of water In inches...' 
1.924 
| 3.317 
| 1.991 
5.669 
3.718 | 
5.194 
3.580 
2.740 
1.907 
4.215 
3.964 
j 4.372 
42.591 
24.356 
Observations made at 7 A 
M., 2 
P. M., 
and 9 P. 
1 
M. of each day 
— P. B. 
P. 
_ 
_ 
I 
_ 
pork and bread in abundance, and a proportionate 
amount of liquids, were moving down the hatch¬ 
way, destined for transportion to Red River or con 
sumption on the route. A body of half breed 
voyagevrs were looking after their paddles, canoes 
and blankets, alternately jabbering French and 
Indian. The attaches of the expedition were busy 
in care of shot-guns and mountain barometers, 
tents, blankets, packs, surveyors’ instruments, and 
all the etceteras necessary to men who were 
leaving for months the precincts of civilized 
life. At last our supplies were shipped, our canoes 
were lashed, and, the weather having become clear 
in the meantime, we were off about 2 o’clock in the 
afternoon. Some account of the incidents of our 
trip is reserved for the future. 
THE MAELSTROM. 
Bayard Taylor, in one of his letters from the 
north of Europe, thus describes this marvel of ge¬ 
ographies:—On approaching the islands we had a 
fair view of the last outposts of the group—the 
solid barriers against which the utmost fury of the 
Atlantic dashes in vain. This side of Yaeroe lay 
the large island of Moskoe, between which and a 
large solitary rock in the middle of the strait di¬ 
viding them is the locality of the renowned Mael¬ 
strom—now, alas! almost as mythical as the kraa- 
ken, or great sea snake, of the Norwegian fiords.— 
It is a pity that the geographical illusions of our 
boyish days cannot remain. You learn that the 
noise of Niagara can be heard one hundred and 
twenty miles off, and that “some Indians, in their 
canoes, have ventured down with safety.” Well, 
one could give up the Indians without much diffi¬ 
culty, but it is rather discouraging to step out of 
the Falls depot for the first time and hear no sound 
except “ Cab, sir?” “ Hotel, sir?” So of the Mael¬ 
strom, denoted on my school-boy map by a great 
spiral twist, which suggested to me a tremendous 
whirl of the ocean currents, aided by the informa¬ 
tion that “vessels cannot approach nearer than 
seven miles.” In Olney, moreover, there was a 
picture of a luckless bark, half way down the vor¬ 
tex. I had been warming my imagination, as we 
came up the coast, with Campbell’s souorious 
lines: 
“Round the shores where runic Odin 
Howls his war song to the gale— 
Round the isles where loud Lofoden 
Whirls to death the roaring whale 
and, as we looked over the smooth water toward 
Moskoe, felt a renewed desire to make an excursion 
thither on our return from the north. But, accor¬ 
ding to Captain Rus, and other modern authorities 
hich I consulted, the Maelstrom has lost all its 
terrors and attractions. Under certain conditions 
of wind and tide, an eddy is formed in a strait, it 
is true, which may be dangerous to small boats, but 
the place is by no means so much dreaded as the 
Salten Fiord, where the tide, rushing in, is caught 
in such a manner as to form a bare, as in the Bay 
of Fuudy, and frequently proves destructive to the 
fishing craft. It is the general opinion that some 
of the rocks which formerly made the Maelstrom 
so terrible have been worn away, or that some sub¬ 
marine convulsion has taken place, which has 
changed the action of the waters; it is impossible 
to account for the reputation it once possessed. 
THE WONDERS OF LIGHT. 
Prick a hole in a card with a pin, and then look 
through it Through that small hole a complete 
landscape may be viewed. At one extremity of the 
landscape there may be a forest of trees; in the 
distance there may be hills bathed in golden light, 
and overhung with glittering clouds, in the mid- 
distance there may be a river winding its course 
along as though it loved the earth through which 
it ran, and wished, by wandering to and fro, to re¬ 
fresh the thirsty soil; in the foreground may be a 
church, covered by a million ivy-leaves; and 
grouping towards the sacred edifice may be hun¬ 
dreds of intending worshipers, old and young, rich 
and poor; flowers may adorn the pathways, and 
butterflies spangle the air with their beauties; yet 
every one of these objects—the forest, the clouds, 
the river, the church, the ivy, the people, the flow¬ 
ers, the butterflies—must have sent rays of light 
which found their way through the little hole in 
the card, and entered to paint the picture upon the 
curtain of the eye. 
This is one oi the most striking instances that 
can be afforded of the wonderful properties of 
light, and of the infinitude of those luminous rays 
that attend the majestic rising of the sun. Not 
only does light fly from the grand “ ruler of the 
day” with a velocity wfj.ch is a million and a half 
times greater than speed of a cannon ball, but 
it darts from every leflectiug surface, with like ve¬ 
locity, and reaches the tender structure of the eye 
so gently, that, as it falls upon the little curtain of 
nerves which is there spread to receive it, it imparts 
the most pleasing sensations, and tells its story of 
the outer world with a minuteness of detail and a 
holiness of truth. Philosophers once sought to 
weigh the sunbeams; they constructed a most deli¬ 
cate balance, and suddenly let in upon it a beam of 
light; the lever of the balance was so delicately 
hung that the fluttering of a fly would have dis¬ 
turbed it. All prepared, the grave men took their 
places, and with keen eyes watched the result._ 
The sunbeam that was to decide the experiment 
had left the sun eight minutes prior to pass the or¬ 
deal. It had flown through 95,000,000 miles in that 
short measure of tine, and it shot upon the bal¬ 
ance with unabated velocity; but the lever moved 
not, and the philosophers were mute .—The Reason 
Why. 
THE GRAND ASPECT OF THE ALPS. 
Perhaps no intellectual emotion-of our maturer 
life comes upon us with so much novelty, and 
strength, and delight, as that shock of surprise and 
pleasure which we receive from the sight of the 
snowy pinnacles of the Alps, shooting up into the 
blue heaven, and standing together in silent, mys¬ 
terious vastness. It provokes not to expression, 
but sinks upon the stilled heart, with a strange, ex¬ 
quisite feeling, essentially spiritual in its solemnity 
and depth. Our native and familiar earth is seen 
expanding into the sublimity of the heavens, and 
we feel as if our destiny were exalted along with it. 
The wonder and sensibility of childhood return 
upon us. Niagara—the ocean —cathedrals —all 
these, when seen for the first time, touch chords of 
immortaiity within our being. But none of them 
in quickness, and fineness, and depth of force, can 
be equaled to the aspects of the Alps. Material 
and moral qualities combine to render it the most 
awing and ennobling that can pass before living 
eyes. There is a calming, elevating, consoling in¬ 
fluence in the quietness of power, the repose of 
surpassing magnificence, in which these mighty 
eminences rest, living out their great lives in silent 
and motionless serenity; and our turbulent and 
troubled souls are reproved and chastened by the 
spectacle .—Horace R. Wallace. 
THE MOUNTAIN CITIES OF SOUTH AMERICA 
It is a remarkable fact that nearly all the cities 
in the western part of South America, are situated 
far up from the sea cost on the table lands, as, for 
instance, Bogota, 9,000 feet above the level of the 
sea, and Potosi, the highest city in the world, 13,- 
000 feet In this respect they present a strikin 
contrast to the great cities of the United States, 
which are, without exception, situated on the sea 
coast, or on some other large body of water. The 
selection of such elevated sites may be accounted 
for by the following facts: 1st. The climate is 
much more temperate and healthy on the table¬ 
lands. An ascent of a few thousand feet in these 
tropical regions, presents as marked a modification 
of the temperature, as a journey of many degrees 
towards the poles. In this manner a temperate 
climate is secured for the British soldiers in Ilin- 
dostan, by removing them, when debilitated by the 
heat on the sea-cost, to the plateau of Deccan, 
which has nearly the same climate as their native 
country. 2d. The founders of the South Ameri¬ 
can cities had no need of commerce, since all the 
productions of the earth which they required, 
grew in the'country around them, and they could 
procure from their own mines the gold and silver, 
which form the great stimulus to commerce. 3d. 
It was convenient to have their cities among the 
mountains, that they might be near the mines. 4th. 
The cities founded by the Spaniards would be 
placed on the plateaus, in imitation of their native 
cities in old Spain. — R. I. Schoolmaster. 
Islam.— 1 The religion of Mahomet was planned by 
him in a cave near Mecca, where he employed a 
Persian Jew, well versed in history and laws, and 
two Christians, to assist him. One of these latter 
was of the Jacobite, and the other of the Nestorian 
sect \\ith the help of these men he framed the 
Koran, or the book which he pretended to have 
received at different times from heaven by the 
hands of the angel Gabriel. At the age of forty he 
publicly, A. I). 604, assumed the prophetical char¬ 
acter, calling himself the apostle of God. 
CLOVES. 
Every part of the clove plant ( Caryophyllus ar- 
omaticus) abounds with aromatic oil; but it is most 
fragrant and plentiful in the unexpanded flower 
bud, which are the cloves of commerce. Cloves 
have been brought into the European market for 
more than 2,000 years. The plant is a native of 
the Moluccas and other islands in the Chinese seas. 
“ The average annual crop of cloves,” says Bur¬ 
nett, “ is, from each tree, two or two and one-half 
pounds; but a fine tree has been known to yield one 
hundred and twenty-five pounds of this spice in a 
single season; and, as 5,000 cloves only weigh one 
pound, there must have been at least 625,000 flow¬ 
ers upon this single tree.” 
The oil of clovos may be obtained by expression 
from the fresh flower buds; but the usual method 
of procuring it is by distillation, which is carried 
on to a very great extent in this country. Few es¬ 
sential oils have a more extensive use in perfumery 
than that of cloves. It combines well with grease, 
soap, and spirit, and it forms a leading feature in 
some of the most popular handkerchief essences, 
rondeletia, the guard’s bouquet, &c., and will be 
found where least expected. For essence of cloves, 
dissolve oil of cloves in the proportion of two 
ounces of oil to one gallon of spirit. 
BUDDHIST BURIALS. 
Buddhist priests and nuns, on their decease, are 
interred in a sort of miniature pagoda. , There are 
two modes of buriaL Any one remarkable for de¬ 
votion and virtue who dies at a good old age, is 
buried in a sitting posture, just as priests usually sit 
in the presence of their idol reciting prayers, with 
their legs drawn under them, the hands clasped, 
and the head drooping on the breast The deceased 
is, in this position, put into a large earthen jar and 
another one is placed over tho head. The two 
are hermetically sealed, and built all around with 
brick and mortar, in tho shape of a pagoda, about 
ten feet in height. Occasionally they take the 
bodies of devoted Budhists, commit them to the 
.lames, and search for a relic called shayle. On 
finding this, they lodge it in a casement like a small 
pagoda The ordinary class of priests and priestes¬ 
ses are not so highly honored on leaving the world. 
Their remains, bones, or (burnt) ashes, are cast into 
a hollow pagoda The cases are carefully lodged 
about the monastery and grounds.— Milne's Life in 
China. 
Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
PRESERVATION OE BIRDS. ANIMALS, &c.—No. IV. 
MOUNTING BIRDS WITHOUT WIRE. 
Mr. Waterton, a celebrated English Naturalist, 
objects to the use of wire and recommends the fol¬ 
lowing plaa I have tried it on small birds, with 
success. After skinning, in the usual way, and 
coating with preservatives, stuff the body with cot¬ 
ton and sew it up. Tie the bill together by putting 
a thread through the nostrils, and a needle must be 
stuck under the lower mandible perpendicularly. 
Bring the feet and knees together, to their natural 
position, by running a thread through them, and 
add the eyes. Take any ordinary box, large enough 
to hold the bird, and fill three-fourths of it at one 
end with cotton, at the other form an incline plane. 
Make a hollow in it for the reception of the bird, 
and place it in the box with its legs in a sitting pos¬ 
ture. Then take a cork into which three pins have 
been stuck, for legs, like a three-legged stool,— 
place it under the bill of the bird, and the needle 
which was formerly run through the bill is stuck 
into the cork, which will act as a support to the 
bird’s head, while drying, and may be placed in any 
position required, and if the wings are to be ele¬ 
vated, place a little cotton under them. Place the j 
box out of reach of sun or fire that it may dry ! this interesting topic, 
slowly, and frequently adjust tho feathers. When 
the legs begin to stiffen place them in their desired 
position, arrange and curve tho toes, so as to hold 
a branch, in which, when the bird is dry place two 
spikes for their reception. 
It is often difficult to get branches of trees that 
are suitable for arranging groups upon, and they 
can be made to any shape by a frame of wire, and 
winding round it flax, securing it with a string, and 
covering with green or brown paper; or better, 
by sizing and coating the paper with thick white 
paint, which may be covered with moss, dried and 
rubbed with the hand and dusted on. All subjects 
should be kept in glass cases or tho flies and dust 
in one season will spoil all your labor. 
SKINNING QUADRUTEDS. 
Plug up the mouth, nostrils and any shot holes 
with cotton, lay it on its back, and make a longi¬ 
tudinal incision in the skin of the abdomen, taking 
care not to penetrato the abdominal muscles. In 
this operation the hairs must bo carefully separated 
to the right and left, and none of them cut if pos¬ 
sible. Separate tho skin to the right and left, put¬ 
ting pads of cotton between it and the muscles, as 
you proceed. After removing the skin as far as the 
incision will permit, each of the thigh bones 
must be separated at its junction with the body._ 
The intestinal canal is then cut across and tho tail 
cut off as close to the body as possible. After this 
the pelvis is pulled out of the skin, and tho skin 
removed from the back until the shoulders are 
reached, which are cut at the shoulder joint. Skin 
the neck and cut off the head at the upper joint, 
extract the brain by enlarging the hole through 
which the spinal marrow passes, and remove all the 
muscles clean from the skulL Care must be taken 
not to injure the eye-lids, and to cut the ears as 
close to the skull as possible. The fore legs are 
now drawn out of the skin as far as the claws of 
the foot, and all the musclos removed; but be care¬ 
ful not to injure the ligaments and tendons. These 
should be left adhering to the knee. When clean¬ 
ed return them into the skin, and treat the hind 
legs in the same way. Lay bare the first two or 
three joints of the tail, tie firmly around them a 
small cord, fasten the other end to a nail or hook 
in the wall, and introduce a pointed stick between 
the tail and the skin, and by forcing tho stick the 
tail will come out of its sheath. Remove all fat or 
muscles that may remain, and the skinning is com¬ 
pleted. 
stuffing quadrupeds. 
First prepare the wires by taking annealed wire 
of sufficient strength to support the animal; tho 
centre wire must be six or eight inches longer than 
the animal from the extremity of the tail to tho 
head. A ring must be turned on Die wire at the 
hip joint, leaving enough on the shortest end to 
reach the extremity of the tail by correct measure¬ 
ment Another ring must be turned at the shoul¬ 
der joint, and the end pointed sharp. Four other 
wires must bo prepared for the legs and pointed— 
Make an artificial tail of flax or cotton, bind it in 
shape with a string, give it a coat of paste, and 
when dry another of arsenical soap. 
The skin is now extended on a table, and the 
skull pushed back again into the skin. It must be 
well coated with the preservative, and all the mus¬ 
cles replaced with chopped cotton, or flax. The 
long wire is now passed through the middle of tho 
skull and skin. The inner surface of the skin is 
now thoroughly coated with arsenical soap. Tho 
tail may be coated by tying a piece of old cotton 
cloth on a wire and introducing it into the skin— 
I ut in the artificial tail and lay under tho wire 
along the back a layer of cotton. Then stuff tho 
neck, but nothing like pressure must be used, as tho 
skin will stretch with the least force. Next put in 
a fore leg wire, along the back of the bone, and tho 
point passed out under the highest ball of the paw; 
draw up the bones of the leg into the body, and tie 
the arm and fore-arm to the wire. The muscles 
that were removed must be perfectly imitated._ 
Every protuberance and cavity must exhibit its 
natural appearance in the attitude yon intend to 
represent. The wire is passed through the ring 
and twisted or tied to the central wire, and the 
other leg is proceeded with in the same way. Tho 
shape is now given to the shoulder-blade, and the 
muscles of the shoulders imitated. Commence to 
sew up the upper part to enable you to complete 
the neck and junction of the neck with the shoul¬ 
ders. This part is of much importance, and much 
of its beauty will depend on its being well executed. 
Imitate as near as possible the muscles on the car¬ 
cass, by observing which you will notice many 
points that otherwise would be neglected. Tho 
hind legs and thighs are done the same as the fore 
legs, with this difference, they must be wound round 
with thread tight at the bottom, and a thread drawn 
through the stuffing a few times to prevent its slip¬ 
ping. When it is returned to the skin pass tho 
wires through the ring and secure as the fore logs. 
Give the body its natural shape and size, and sew 
it carefully up, stuffing it as yon proceed, as may 
be required. When closed prime the seam well 
with corrosive sublimate. The joints of tho 
legs are now bent, and pressure used at the natu¬ 
rally flat places, and this will make the prominent 
parts more distinct 
A board is now prepared with holes for the feet 
wires, on which it may be placed in its proper po¬ 
sition, and when you are satisfied with it, give-a 
finish to the face, head and neck by stuffing it at 
the eyes and mouth till the imitation is perfect, or 
bring the stuffing first put in forward for the purpose. 
Next insert the oyos and place the eyelids naturally 
over the ball of the eye. The lips may be kept in 
place with a pin or two. Put two small balls of 
cotton, dipped in the soap, up the nostrils, to keep 
out moths; also in the ears. The nose, lips and 
paws should have several coats of spirits of tur¬ 
pentine, applied with a brush, at intervals of two 
or three days; and lastly, a coat of corrosive sub¬ 
limate; and when perfectly dry cut off the wire 
protruding through the skull. w . v . 
Remarks. —We have now concluded our articles 
on the Preservation of Birds, Insects, fyc. We have 
published these to tho exclusion of much other in¬ 
teresting matter crowding upon us, and at a sacri¬ 
fice of that variety which we design to give in this 
department. Yet, we have the satisfaction of know¬ 
ing that we have given our young readers one of 
the best papers on the subject published in this 
country, containing information that will be refer¬ 
red to for years by all who seek knowledge on 
Make a Beginning. — Remember, • that in all 
things, if yon do not begin, yon will never come 
to an end. The first weed pulled up in the garden, 
the first seed set in the ground, the first shilling 
put in the savings bank, and the first mile traveled 
in a journey, are all important things—they make 
a beginning, and thereby a hope, a promise, a 
pledge, an assurance that you are in earnest with 
what you have undertaken. How many a poor, 
idle, erring, hesitating outcast is now creeping and 
crawling his way through the world, who might 
have held up his head and prospered, if, instead of 
putting off his resolutions of amendments and in¬ 
dustry, if he had only made a beginning. 
