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VARIETIES.

HOW TO LEARN TO SWIM.-Man, for the most part, must learn to swim; and here is the receipt. It must be understood that we are teaching a man come to years of discretion. First, work up theoretically and practically (as far as may be out of the water) the position of the body in swimming, and the rhythmical extension and adduction of the legs and arms. Then boldly walk into the sea, when it is rather calm, up to the chin, turn to the shore, and fall forward on the chest, letting the arms cut the water before the body, and practise the motions now familiar to the mind from the treatise. Never mind swallowing a little water! Persevere in this for several days in succession, and then, if possible, get a swimmer to support your chest for a minute or two. Or, better still, as man is nearly of the same specific gravity as water, the addition of a very few pounds of cork will make him float. Get several pieces of cork, therefore, and fasten them to loops in which the arms can be inserted, and with the addition of these you will find, when the "stroke" is once familiar, that you will easily float, and what is more, make progression through the water. Stick to this plan for a few more days, and then try your own unaided powers again, and you will be astonished to find that you can swim. In this way, without any swimmingmaster or parade of any kind, swimming (we speak from personal experience) is easily learnt, and then what a treat, and what a charming mode of gaining exercise, does a bathe in the sea become! Instead of being a shivering duty, looked forward to as a necessary part of the poojah due to a watering-place, as an AngloIndian would say, the daily bathe is eagerly welcomed, and the whole system invigorated and braced up by it. For the swimmer leaves the water with every muscle and limb aching with his exertions, and the whole body pervaded by a healthy glow, of which he will feel the beneficial effects throughout the day. When once the stroke is familiar to a mancomes, as it were, by instinct to him (as it surely will if the above modus discendi be persevered in), all that is needful is to set one's self daily the task of a stroke or two more, and soon the learner will find himself able to swim any reasonable distance, not now near the side, but boldly dashing out among the waves. Thus, if he finds he can only struggle on for six strokes to-day before his face sinks and he gets a ducking, to morrow let him set himself the duty of struggling on through seven strokes, eight strokes next day, and so on, never being satisfied with his efforts until he has succeeded in performing his daily number of strokes. In this way a visit to the sea becomes a happiness to be looked back upon ever after in a man's

life with pleasure. How much better is it thus to have acquired the mastery over a strange element than to have lounged up and down the beach for many mornings, listening to Italian organ - grinders and smoking innumerable cigars.-Cassell's Family Magazine.

A VISION OF THE NIGHT.

Oн, my mother, that dear face of thine,
So marked in wisdom, and so mild,
That it seemed almost divine,

As thou gazedst upon thy child!
From out yon heavenly clime

That saint-like smile
Beamed with a radiance sublime.
My mother.

Oh, how I longed to fold me,
Dearest mother, to thy throbbing breast,
Where I was wont to flee

In childhood's hour,
When sorrow pressed,

And only thou hadst power

To sooth the troubled heart to rest!
My mother.

I know 'tis all in vain ;

Yet, mother, I would fain recall

Those words of mine which caused thee pain

That did so heedless fall

From lips that never could intend

Wilfully to offend

In word or deed, however small.

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WHEN the Rose came I loved the Rose
And thought of none beside,
Forgetting all the other flowers,
And all the others died;

And morn and noon, and sun and showers
And all things loved the Rose,

Who only half returned my love,
Blooming alike for those.

I was the rival of a score
Of loves on gaudy wing,
The nightingale I would implore
For pity not to sing;

Each called her his; still I was glad
To wait or take my part;

I loved the Rose--who might have had
The fairest lily's heart.

ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY.

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