Experience has taught us that the nature of our food is not a matter of indifference to the respiratory organs. Diseased lungs are exasperated by a certain diet, and pacified by one of an opposite kind. The celebrated diver, Mr. Spalding, observed, that whenever he used a diet of animal food, or drank spirituous liquors, he consumed in a much shorter period the oxygen of the atmospheric air in his diving-bell; and he therefore, on such occasions, confined himself to vegetable diet. He also found the same effect to arise from the use of fermented liquors, and he accordingly restricted himself to the potation of simple water. The truth of these results is confirmed by the habits of the Indian pearl-divers, who always abstain from every alimentary stimulus previous to their descent into the ocean.--_Dr. Paris on Diet._ * * * * * THE MONTHS The season has now advanced to full maturity. The corn is yielding to the sickle, the husbandmen, "By whose tough labours, and rough hands," our barns are stored with grain, are at their toils, and when nature is despoiled of her riches and beauty, will, with glad and joyous heart, celebrate the annual festival of THE HARVEST HOME. BY CORNELIUS WEBBE. Hark! the ripe and hoary rye Waving white and billowy, Gives a husky rustle, as Fitful breezes fluttering pass. See the brown and bending wheat, By its posture seems to meet The harvest's sickle, as it gleams Like the crescent moon in streams, Brown with shade and night that run Under shores and forests dun. Lusty Labour, with tired stoop, Levels low, at every swoop, Armfuls of ripe-coloured corn, Yellow as the hair of morn; And his helpers track him close, Laying it in even rows, On the furrow's stubbly ridge; Nearer to the poppied hedge. Some who tend on him that reaps Fastest, pile it into heaps; And the little gleaners follow Them again, with whoop and halloo When they find a hand of ears More than falls to their compeers. Ripening in the dog-star's ray, Some, too early mown, doth lay; Some in graceful shocks doth stand Nodding farewell to the land That did give it life and birth; Some is borne, with shout and mirth, Drooping o'er the groaning wain. Through the deep embowered lane; And the happy cottaged poor, Hail it, as it glooms their door, With a glad, unselfish cry, Though they'll buy it bitterly.