Whatever may be the cause, the fact seems to be certain, that the chameleon has an antipathy to things of a black colour.  One, which Forbes kept, uniformly avoided a black board which was hung up in the chamber; and, what is most remarkable, when it was forcibly brought before the black board, it trembled violently, and assumed a black colour.—­Oriental Mem.

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RULES FOR THE WEATHER.

A wet summer is always followed by a frosty winter; but it happens occasionally that the cold extends no farther.  Two remarkable instances of this occurred in 1807-8 and 1813-14.  With these exceptions, every frosty winter has been followed by a cold summer.

The true cause of cold, or rather the direct cause, is to be found in the winter excess of west wind, every winter with excess of west wind being followed by a cold summer; and if there is no cold before, or during a first excess, then a second excess of west wind in winter occasions a still colder summer than the first.  It also appears, by repeated experience, that cold does not extend to more than two years at a time.

Again, if the winter excess of east wind be great, in the first instance, the winters will be mild, and followed by mild summers; while the summer excess of east wind is itself, in the first instance, always mild; but uniformly followed by cold winters and cold summers, which continue, more or less, for one or two years, according to circumstances.—­Mackenzie, Syst. of the Weather.

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SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

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PERIODICAL LITERATURE.

Periodical Literature—­how sweet is the name!  ’Tis a type of many of the most beautiful things and events in nature; or say, rather, that they are types of it—­both the flowers and the stars.  As to flowers, they are the prettiest periodicals ever published in folio—­the leaves are wire-wove and hot-pressed by Nature’s self; their circulation is wide over all the land; from castle to cottage they are regularly taken in; as old age bends over them, his youth is renewed; and you see childhood poring upon them, prest close to its very bosom.  Some of them are ephemeral, and their contents are exhaled between the rising and the setting sun.  Once a-week others break through their green, pink, or crimson cover; and how delightful, on the seventh day, smiles in the sunshine the Sabbath flower—­the only Sunday publication perused without blame by the most religious—­even before morning prayer.  Each month, indeed, throughout the whole year, has its own flower-periodical.  Some are annual, some biennial, some triennial, and there are perennials that seem to live for ever—­and yet are still periodical—­though our love will not allow us to know when they die, and phoenix-like re-appear from their own ashes.  So much for flowers—­typifying or typified;—­leaves emblematical of pages—­buds of binding dew-veils of covers—­and the wafting away of bloom and fragrance like the dissemination of fine feelings, bright fancies, and winged thoughts!