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ing tints white, yellow, scarlet, and three shades of green (Vert d'Islay), a little white florists' wire, and very fine common wire.

Begin by making the petals of the narcissus, in white wool.

15 Ch. -Take a bit of florist's wire, about one finger long, slip the end of it through the last stitch, and hold it even with the chain on which you are about to work. 2 Sc, 3 semi-stitches, 7 Dc, 1 semi-stitch, 3 Sc in one at the end. Work on the other side of the chain, holding in the end of work as well as the wire, 1 semi-stitch, 7 Dc, 3 semi-stitches, 2 Sc, 1 slip-stitch in the last stitch of the chain. Cut off the wool, leaving about two inches, and plait this in with the ends of wire.

Each flower will require six of these petals, which must all be made separately. The eye of the narcissus is made thus: With the white wool, make a chain of 7 stitches. Cut off the white wool, and join on the yellow, as close as possible to the last chain stitch. Join the chain into a round, and work on it + 1 Sc, 1 Ch, miss none,+7 times. Cut off the yellow wool, and join on the red, and work a slip-stitch in every stitch of the last round. Fasten off, leaving a small piece of the wool, to sew the eye of the flower to the petals.

Place your six petals in the proper form for a flower, twist the end of the wires together, and sew the eye in its place.

For the stem, take a piece of the coarser wire, about 3 fingers long, bend it into the form of a hair-pin, but pinching it so that the two prongs are close to each other. Slip them through the eye of the flower, and bring one prong out on each side between two petals. Pinch them quite close, and twist some green wool round the stem thus formed, so as to cover it entirely.

The lover of Nature will have observed, that there is a slight bulbous swelling in the stem of the narcissus, just below the flower. This is imitated by winding the wool up and down the wire, at that spot, on a space of about the third of an inch, and rather more than an inch from the flower. Do this on your way down the

wire.

THE FOLIAGE. Take any shade of the green wool, and make 50 chain stitches. Cut off a piece of the coarser wire, rather more than double the length of the chain;

slip the end into the last chain stitch, and work on the chain and over the wool, 7 Sc, 37 SDc stiches, 4 Sc, 3 Sc in one, at the point; on the other side, 4 Sc, 37 SDc stitches, 7 Sc, 1 slip stitch at the end. Cut off the wool, and fasten it as you did the petals of the flowers.

Each flower should have three or four leaves, done in the different shades of the green wool. All are to be worked in the same manner, but to differ slightly in size, the darkest being also the largest leaves.

Wind some green wool round the flower, holding in first one leaf and then another, covering the ends, and so joining them to the stem of the flower.

To make the leaves larger or smaller than the above, make so many more or less chain stitches, and in the same way alter the number of semi-stitches, to reore or fewer.

This contraction, SDc stitch, being new to our readers, we will explain the mode of making it, and the purpose for which it was invented.

Between the Sc and the De stitch there is a very great difference, as to height. In forming a flower, or leaf, where every change is so very gradually made, a half stitch, larger than the one, and not so large as the other, was very desirable. For this purpose the short double crochet stitch was invented. Proceed exactly as for a De stitch, but, when you have three loops on the needle, instead of drawing the wool through two only, and then through the other two, the old one and the one just formed, draw the wool through all three at the same time.

To give the slight variation of size always found in Nature, it will be desirable to make some of the flowers rather smaller than those described.

VISIONS OF THE PAST!-If some of our close, quiet chambers, pleasant rooms we have loved, were suddenly peopled with the phantoms of our old selves as we have appeared in many an awful hour when none saw us but God; if the dumb walls could re-utter our words, the void air revive the impress of our likeness there,—what a revealing it would be! Surely we ought not to judge harshly, but each of us to have mercy upon one another.-The Head of the Family.

QUEEN CATHERINE PARR. CATHERINE PARR was born in the year 1509, and by the care of her father, Sir Thomas Parr, received the advantages of an excellent education. She was distinguished by proficiency in all the branches of learning, which the fashion of those times accorded to her sex. With every attainment she mingled a serious piety, and a desire to be faithful in every duty to God and to man.

Her birth was in the year of the accession of Henry VIII. to the throne, and little could those imagine who watched her cradle slumbers, or rejoiced in the beauty and accomplishments of her blooming youth, that she would indeed be

"One of the six who dared to spread their couch In the strong lion's den."

At a very early age she married John Neville, Lord Latimer, and after some years of widowhood, the capricious monarch, captivated by her graces of person and mind, persuaded her to become his consort, in the summer of 1543.

The vanities of a court had for her no attractions, but she trusted that her elevated position would enable her to do good on an extensive scale. She zealously sought opportunities to relieve suffering, sustain the oppressed, and soften the asperities of the irritable king. Her attachment to the doctrines of the Reformation, and earnestness to promote their establishment, repeatedly endangered her safety. Articles of impeachment were drawn up against her by Gardiner, and her hollow-hearted husband induced to sign a warrant for her commitment to the Tower. Intelligence of this being secretly conveyed to her, she was so affected by this treachery, and the perilous condition of female royalty, as to be made seriously ill. Henry visited her, and seemed moved by sympathy; but especially her kind attentions to him, during a fit of sickness that soon after ensued, reanimated his dormant affection. In his convalescence, when he directed conversation to theological points, she expressed herself with so much prudence, caution, and delicacy, as to soothe his suspicious, irritable temper, and draw from him the strongest assurances of confidence.

But the machinations of her religious opponents did not slumber. The time specified for her apprehension had arrived. The warrant still bore the signature of the King, and was therefore in full force. She was walking in the garden, with a few ladies who enjoyed her intimacy. They also had been designated, unknown to themselves, to share her prison. The king, having recovered, joined them in their walk. The conversation became sprightly and entertaining, and he, ever an admirer of female talent and attraction, surrendered himself to these influences.

Suddenly a guard of forty armed men, headed by the Lord High Chancellor, appeared at the gates. Henry confronted him with great sternness, and bade him depart. Seeing him still convulsed with anger, Catherine said in a gentle, yet earnest tone, "If his fault be not too heinous, I pray your Majesty to pardon him for my sake."

Abashed at her goodness, and embarrassed by the peculiarity of his situation, the king stood in silence. Still she repeated her sweet plea, "for my sake, for my sake!"

"Kate! My Queen! You know not what you say. Yonder man, hath in view, your imprisonment, nay, perhaps your death."

But with the spirit of Him in whose footsteps she had long striven to walk, she continued to solicit the forgiveness of her enemy. The king was so struck by this lesson of benevolence and piety, that his mind naturally inconstant and wavering, never lost the impression, or would admit any further accusation against her, on the ground of religious belief.

A consciousness of her perilous situation, added fervour to her prayers, and firmness to her reliance upon Divine protection. She earnestly studied the Scriptures, had a sermon preached every day in her chamber, and conversed much with her chaplain on the doctrines of the Reformation. Having procured an able translation into English of the Paraphrase of the new Testament by Erasmus, she defrayed the whole expense of the work from her own purse, that it might be for the instruction of the common people. Notwithstanding the many interruptions and avocations inseparable from her rank as queen, she

produced many writings of a religious on him was terminated by his death in 1547, somewhat more than three and a half years after she had made trial of the "thorns that lie within the hollow circle of a crown."

nature, some of which were published before her death, and others afterwards. They prove how much time and thought she devoted to the culture of piety in her own soul, and how earnestly she laboured for its dissemination among her people.

She ever exerted herself to promote the progress of useful knowledge. So much was she respected as a patroness of learning, and such was her supposed influence over the king, that at the passing of an Act which declared all the colleges in the realm subject to his disposal, the Heads and Dignitaries of the University of Cambridge, alarmed at the statute, addressed a letter to her, entreating her intercession, that their privileges might not be abridged.

In her reply, after signifying that his Majesty had accepted her advocacy, she adds,

"I doubt not your daily invocation will be offered up to Him, who alone disposeth of every creature, for the preservation and prosperity of your royal benefactor." After a tribute of respect to the flourishing state of that ancient University, she expresses a devout hope, that it may not so hunger after the exquisite knowledge of profane learning, as to neglect the simplicity of the true faith." She concludes with this noble testimony:

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"For I am taught by St. Paul to say, I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ; to the sincere setting forth of which I trust you will so conform your various gifts and studies, that Cambridge may be accounted an University, not only of moral and natural, but of Divine philosophy."

Catherine made every earthly care and pleasure subservient to her duty to her husband. This was an arduous office. The infirmities of declining years, and of ill health, were continually his portion, during their marriage. These added fierceness to his naturally intractable temper, so that his principal favourites were sometimes afraid to approach him. Yet her patient and amiable nature disarmed his savageness, the charms of her conversation cheered his intervals of ease, while the tenderness of her nursing cares rendered her essential to his comfort in seasons of pain. Her faithful attendance

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The traveller in Westmoreland, is often shown in the neighbourhood of Kendal, the ruins of a lone castle, which tradition points out as the birthplace of Catherine Parr. It is impossible to explore that desolated domain, where disjointed stones mingle with tan-gled foliage, and not retrace with fresh vividness the history of that much-enduring woman:

Here, did thy childhood share the joyous sports That well it loves? Or didst thou meekly con Thy horn-book lesson, 'mid yon dreary halls With their dark wainscot of old British cak?

Or 'mid the faded arras deftly trace
strange tales of tourney, or of regal pomp,
That touch'd perchance the incipient energy
Of young ambition to become a queen?
How dar'dst thou build, where other birds had
So fatally?

fallen

Stole not the rural scenes

Of earlier years, up to thy palace-home?
The winding ken, the quiet grassy lanes,
The peaceful peasant singing at his toil,
The cottage-girl watching her father's sheep,

And came there then no secret pang to chase
The fresh blood from thy cheek?

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But however numerous may have been the dangers and perplexities of Queen Catherine Parr, during the life of her royal husband, she had not comprehended the full meaning of domestic tyranny, until her unwise marriage with Thomas Seymour, Lord High Admiral of England. The harshness of this ambitious, unprincipled man, and the pride and selfishness of some members of his family, embittered and perhaps shortened her days. She died at the birth of her first child, in the autumn of 1548, not having quite completed her thirty-ninth year.

THE TOILETTE FRIEND.

II. THE SKIN-DISEASES OF. THERE are some diseases of the skin that can only be treated by a medical practitioner, experience alone enabling him to distinguish between the many varieties, induced by constitution, age, habits, &c. If, therefore, experience be needed by him who has made the diseases of this structure his careful study, how much more difficult will it be found by those whose knowledge is superficial? This being the case, we have considered it necessary only to mention such diseases of structure as will, from their very general occurrence, be met with by most persons, excluding all such as require the skilful attention of a medical man.

21. The skin may be partially deficient. Large or small portions of it may be destroyed by burns, wounds, ulcers, abscesses, &c.; and although reproduced, yet it differs from the surrounding skin, in being beneath the level of the surface of the rest of the skin, and presenting a different appearance. The new structure has not any papillæ (§ 3, 4), sudoriferous glands (§ 16), sebaceous glands (§ 18), or hair follicles (small folds in which the hair is embedded). It is at first red, and shining, but ultimately becomes whiter, and tightly stretched, or puckered, and uneven the whiteness arising from the deficiency of capillary vessels (§ 14). When the skin assumes the conditions we have described, it is called a scar or cicatrix.

22. Scars may be slightly movable over the parts beneath them, or they may adhere to them.

23. The skin may be excessive so as to hang in folds, and so loose as to be movable, so much so, that one young man is related by a medical writer to have been able to draw the skin of the neck and shoulder over the whole face.

24. The skin may be unusually distended by tumours, or other causes, so as to leave it loose and hanging in folds (§ 23), after the cause is removed. When the skin is distended thus, it also becomes thinner, more transparent, and if the distension continues, it bursts.

25. The skin may be thickened from disease, such as elephantiasis, when it pre

sents an appearance like an elephant's skin, hence the name; or from badly treated erysipelas, and other diseases.

26. Sometimes the skin becomes hard and dry, without any thickening, and then it splits, producing cracks, which extend into the corium (§ 4, 5).

27. The skin may become soft and loose, from being deprived of the action of the atmosphere, and continually exposed to moisture. This is seen in the hands of little children, who suck them, and in parts much exposed to the influence of perspiration continually occurring.

28. The colour of the skin may deviate, so as to cause an unusual absence or presence of colour. This may be confined to one part, or may be general; it may be permanent or temporary; the result of disease, accident, or chemical change. Thus, we may observe it to be too white, as in albinoes, resulting from a deficiency of colouring matter or pigment in the skin (§ 8); or, after long illness, or from hemorrhage, or from any cause that decreases the amount of blood in the vessels. It may be yellow, as in jaundice; red, as in eruptive diseases, inflammation, or congestion; blue, as in cholera, or resulting from exposure to the influence of cold; a kind of greenish or bronze colour, after the long-continued use of lunar caustic internally, this form being generally permanent.

29. The skin sometimes presents a blackish appearance, as in old persons; and sometimes it has a tawny colour, or a dirty bluish or leaden hue, all the result of disease.

30. Occasionally we meet with spots of colour, differing in size, form, number, and intensity; such as freckles, and sunblisterings.

31. The skin being freely supplied with blood-vessels, we may easily understand how it is that it becomes redder when interruption of the circulation takes place; and how, if this interruption still continues, it becomes blue or purplish. To illustrate this more familiarly:-The colour of the natural skin may be compared to six soldiers in red coats, in a room full of ladies; while the congested red and diseased skin may be compared to the same room with forty or fifty red coats in it. Now, these soldiers are merely the repre

sentatives of the blood globules, which, as they increase in number in a given space, present a deeper colour to the eye, in the same manner that six sheets of red tissue paper would, if placed over a piece of white paper, in contradistinction to one sheet of the same colour over the same paper.

32. Congestion or fulness may be so intense that hemorrhage or bleeding takes place, and the blood escapes into the tissue of the skin, either upon the surface of the corium (Fig. 4. h. h.) beneath the epidermis, or in the substance of the corium itself. The result of this hemorrhage will be large spots or blotches, or streaks of irregular form. This condition of the skin may be observed in scurvy. It occurs in weak and delicate people, where the coats of the capillary vessels are susceptible of injury.

33. The skin may become inflamed from various causes, external or internal; it may be the result, or the attendant of other diseases.

34. Inflammation is generally attended by redness, pain, heat and swelling. These are the leading symptoms, but one or more may be wanting. It may be confined to one spot, extend to many, or even to a large portion of the integument.

35. When the inflammation is diffused or extends over a large portion of skin, the upper or external layer of the true skin is generally the part affected, and also the papillæ. But when it is circumscribed the whole thickness of the corium is affected this is observed in the former case in erythematous inflammation; and in the latter in phlegmonous inflammation.

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36. Erythematous inflammation, or inflammation of the outermost layer of the skin, is generally caused by fire, cold, heat of the sun, blisters, and irritating plaster, stings of insects, &c.; but it may be connected with other diseases. It ends generally by the epidermis peeling off, like bran, which people call scurvy, and which is nothing more than the scales or flat cells of the epidermis (§ 7) being pushed upwards by the new epidermis which is then seen thin, smooth, and shining underneath. 37. Phlegmonous inflammation of the skin, or deep-seated inflammation of the corium, may arise from powerful external irritants, such as caustics, or burning

substance, or may be caused by inflammation extending from other structures, as in the case of inflammation of the veins, absorbents, muscles, &c.

38. When phlegmonous inflammation is severe, or of long standing, the skin acquires a dull bluish, brown, or bronze colour, and other important changes in its structure takes place, which generally end in the formation of matter, or as it is technically termed in suppuration.

39. When suppuration takes place, ulceration occurs, and this is one of the causes of scars (§ 21) or cicatrices.

40. There is another kind of inflammation of the skin that will come more immediately under our notice, viz., furuncular inflammation, or that which attends boils, which most people know; therefore we need not describe the character of it.

41. Although the skin may become very much thickened, yet it is very rare to find any bony deposits on it, although such have been discovered.

42. There are many kinds of changes likely to result from inflammation of the skin; thus we may have scabs, scars, spots, chaps, elevations, knots, &c.

43. The skin is also subject to unusual growths, or excrescences, such as worts, fleshy and fatty tumours, mother's marks, &c.

44. The skin is sometimes infested with parasites, such as the acarus scabici, and pulex penetrans.

45. The acarus scabici, or itch insect, is the most common and certainly the most troublesome of the parasites, that man is troubled with in his skin. The itch

Fig. 10.* Fig. 11.t insect is furnished with four pair of legs, two anterior, and two posterior. The front ones terminate by adhesive suckers, as seen in the annexed engravings, and the hinder legs by hairs, to which the itching has been ascribed. Now, these insects breathe by branch-like windpipes, the

*Fig. 10. Upper surface of the acarus scabiei, or itch insect, highly magnified.

Fig. 11. Under surface of the acarus scabici, highly magnified.

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