While the tide is flowing, oysters lie with the hollow side downwards, but when it ebbs they turn on the other side.[6]

    [6] See Bishop Spratt on Oysters.

Swarming of Bees.

An interesting communication was read, at a recent sitting of the Royal Society, from T.A.  Knight, Esq. describing the precaution taken by a swarm of bees, in reconnoitering the situation where they intend to establish their new colony, or swarm from the parent hive.  The bees do not go out in a considerable body, but they succeed each other in going and returning, until the whole of the swarm have apparently made good the survey, after which the whole body take their departure in a mass.  If by any chance a large portion of a swarm take their departure without the queen bee, they never proceed to take up the ulterior quarters without her majesty’s presence.  The result of Mr. Knight’s observations tends to prove, that all the operations of a swarm of bees are dictated by previous concert, and the most systematic arrangement.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

LADDER OF LOVE.

  Men and women,—­more or less,—­
  Have minds o’ the self-same metal, mould, and form!—­
  Doth not the infant love to sport and laugh,
  And tie a kettle to a puppy’s tail?—­
  Doth not the dimpled girl her ’kerchief don
  (Mocking her elder) mantilla wise—­then speed
  To mass and noontide visits; where are bandied
  Smooth gossip-words of sugared compliment? 
  But when at budding womanhood arrived,
  She casts aside all childish games, nor thinks
  Of aught save some gay paranymph—­who, caught
  In love’s stout meshes, flutters round the door,
  And fondly beckons her away from home,—­
  The whilst, her lady mother fain would cage
  The foolish bird within its narrow cell!—­
  And then, the grandame idly wastes her breath,
  In venting saws ’bout maiden modesty—­
  And strict decorum,—­from some musty volume: 
  But the clipp’d wings will quickly sprout again;
  And whilst the doating father thinks his child
  A paragon of worth and bashfulness,—­
  Her thoughts are hovering round the precious form
  Of her sweet furnace-breathing Don Diego!—­
  And he, all proof ’gainst dews and nightly blasts,
  In breathless expectation waits to see
  His panting Rosa at the postern door;—­
  While she sighs forth “My gentle cavalier!”—­
  And then they straightway fall to kissing hands,
  And antic-gestures—­such as lovers use,—­
  Expressive of their wish quickly to tie
  The gordian knot of marriage;—­Pretty creatures!—­
  But why not earlier to have thought of this?—­
  When he, the innocent youth, was wont to play
  At coscogilla; and the prattling girl,
  Amid her nursery companions, toiled