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crowned with oak and ash trees; and from the cracks and fissures in the sides, a number of tortuous old trunks spring out, which, with the ivy and other vegetable tracery, give an indescribable interest to the scene. repose which reigns in this place is not disturbed, but is rather heightened by the incessant sound of the falling water, which comes down as white as the drifted snow, and for ever boils and foams and bubbles in the deep dark basin which receives it.'-pp. 103-105.

The wonders of the microscopic world have been in some degree examined by scientific men, but much remains still to be known of this comparatively hidden portion, though perhaps the most surprising, of the whole of the works of nature. The power of the microscope exhibits the colours of flowers, in a manner much more perfect than we can see them with the naked eye. The author's

observations upon the beauty of these great ornaments of the creation, as well upon the splendour and variety of the shells, which are cast by the deep upon the shore, are in his wonted strain of fine philosophy.

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Why, for example, are flowers in general so exquisitely beautiful as we find them, if it be not to exhibit to us the hand of God, and to afford us, even in the colouring of a blossom, a manifestation of himself, and a rational cause for turning our thoughts towards him? Look with a magnifier at the flower of London Pride, or of Forget me not, and enquire of yourself why these minute objects are so lovely, why scarcely any of the larger flowers excel, and not many equal them: extend your observation to some of the minute insects, and reflect why they are dressed in colours as brilliant as those of the peacock; magnify a gnat, and consider the superb feathered antennæ which grace its head, examine its whole structure, see the wonderful mechanism which is in every part, the minute perfection, the elaborate finishing of this little being; remember that, in addition to the structure, there are its appetites and functions, its stomach and bowels, its organs of breathing, its muscles of motion, its several senses, and perhaps its passions. Think on these, but not with the transitory admiration which we often observe in persons who for a first or second time see objects in a microscope. Be not content with the cold acknowledgment that it is one of the wonderful works of nature, and then let it slip from your memory. I tell you it is the work of God; and I believe that the too liberal use of the term nature, has given rise to much of the apathy with which the objects of the creation are regarded. It is very true, indeed, that when we say nature produces a plant, or an animal, the true meaning is, that God does so, nature here being used as a synonymous term; but still the word has so many applications, and it is employed in such a variety of ways, that we insensibly get into the habit of using it, in natural history and other sciences, as if it were some inferior power, or agent, acting by itself; and we talk of the works of nature without any impression being on our minds at the time, that they are in truth the works of the Deity himself. • To prove that we often find the greatest beauty where we might least expect it, let us examine a fine collection of shells. The animals which form and inhabit them, generally reside in situations where it is almost impossible for us to learn any thing of their history; but see what compensation we have for that. The skin of a quadruped, or a bird, will soon

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perish, unles the greatest pains have been taken to preserve it by some antiseptic wash or powder; and if it be stuffed, every care is required to keep it from damp and insects. But if it be difficult to preserve a quadruped or bird, we have opportunities of recording its history, of observing its habits, and of adding to our knowledge of it, in its living state. In the inhabitant of the shell, that is next to impossible; we cannot reside with it at the bottom of the sea, we cannot study its manners, habits, and modes of working, as we can those of a bee. But of all objects, for forming a beautiful and permanent collection, the coverings in which the animals reside are perhaps the best. These coverings, or shells, are infinitely varied; some are marked with the most rich and beautiful colours, and with the greatest variety of penciling; their forms are endless. "What," says Pliny, can be more gratifying than to view nature in all her irregularities, and sporting in her variety of shells! such a difference of colour do they exhibit! such a difference of figure! flat, concave, long, lineated, drawn round in a circle, the orbit cut in two! Some are seen with a rising on the back, some smooth, some wrinkled, toothed, streaked, the point variously intorted, the mouth pointing like a dagger, folded back, bent inward; all these variations, and many more, furnish at once novelty, elegance, and speculation."

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There is no trouble in preserving them, there is no fear of their decaying by time, they will be the same in fifty years as they are to-day; and hence if there be almost insuperable difficulties in getting at a knowledge of the inhabitants, there is the greatest facility of becoming acquainted with the habitations. Many, indeed, object to conchology, because we cannot learn the history of the animals themselves; but though we may regret that circumstance, we should not, therefore, disdain giving our sanction to the science; for, though we cannot become acquainted with the architect, that should be no reason for withholding our admiration of the architecture, and our gratitude should be raised towards the Supreme Builder of all, when we consider that he has so ordered that innumerable gelatinous animals, having perhaps little beauty themselves, should, at the bottom of the ocean, be invested with such elegant coverings, as those shells are which our cabinets exhibit. Many shell-fish, I must however observe, inhabit the sands and rocks of the shores, and the history and structure of some of them has been tolerably well ascertained.'-pp. 153–156.

But tolerably well ascertained indeed, for next to microscopic objects, those which inhabit the deep are, perhaps of all others, the least known to us. The period has not long passed away since it was generally believed, that the bird called the barnacle, was produced from the shell of the barnacle fish, simply because the nest of the barnacle was unknown, and the tentacula of the shell fish bear a resemblance to feathers. Gerard in his "Historie of Plants," mentions this transformation with the greatest possible gravity. "There are," he says, "founde in the north parts of Scotland, and the islands adjacent, called Oorchades, certaine trees whereon doe growe certaine shell-fishes, of a white colour, tending to russet, wherein are contained little living creatures; which shells, in time of maturitie, doe open, and out of them grow those little living things, which falling into the water doe become fowles,

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whom we call Barnacles, in the north of England, Brant Geese, and in Lancashire, Tree Geese but the other that doe fall upon the land, perish, and come to nothing." Gerard then proceeds to describe the various steps by which the fish is exalted into the bird; his credulity was marvellous.

The ocean has been a favourite theme with philosophers and poets. Dr. Drummond's reflections upon its appearance, its grandeur, and its usefulness, are by no means devoid of beauty.

How delightful is it on a day like this, to ramble on the margin of the mighty deep, and experience the happiness which a love of nature, and reflection on God, as its author, can inspire! But the human mind is not to be satisfied with uniformity or limitation. One who from infancy has lived in the vicinity of this fair strand, who, year after year has seen the green wave of summer glide on and die along the shelving shore; and who, for as many winters, has heard the tempests roar, and seen the billows burst in foam upon the rocks, and rage round the wide amphitheatre of the bay, may yet be little sensible, in either case, to the beauty or sublimity of the scene. The mind must have variety; for, in time, the impressions made by the most beautiful objects, will become faint, or at least we lose the habit of frequently thinking of them. But in the study of natural history there is perpetual novelty, an interest that never dies, a happiness which never satiates. Let us walk by wave-worn shores, or climb hills and mountains, or tread the mazes of romantic streams, or wander through woods, or by the margins of lakes, the mind imbued with knowledge and a love of nature finds constant cause for admiration. No bud that blows, no fly that hums its little song, no bird that cleaves the air, nor fin which cuts the lucid wave, but tells to it the wondrous work of the Almighty. It is not, however, you will remember, the act of retiring into solitude, of living in deserts, nor of moping through "glades and glooms," that will form a naturalist, or a true lover of nature. He, however much he study nature in nature's self, is the last man living who would become a hermit. Various circumstances may induce persons to retire for a time from society, to brood over feelings which they would hide from the world; to mourn for the dead, or to recover the shock brought on by an unexpected reverse of fortune. This is human nature; but it is not human nature to abandon society, and turn eremite, under the idea of thereby pleasing the Deity. This is the result of self deception; of degrading notions of God, of arrogance and self-conceit, and often of knavery combined with these; or else of insanity, brought on by their excessive indulgence. Man is in his nature a social being; God has made him so; and when he deserts the interests and society of his species, under the notion of serving his Maker, he is thwarting one great end of his creation. In truth, however, the hermits of whom we read had often anything but solitude and devotion in view, when they retired to live in caves and dirt: many did so to gain a name, to obtain a consequence in the annals of their superstition, and to extort money from the fanatics who were imposed on by their tricks; and what is perhaps still more to be deplored, some were in absolute earnest, and did really think in their consciences that they were serving God, and yet could not fairly be said to be out of their proper senses.

A naturalist, I grant you, loves the country; it is the temple in which

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he best feels his pursuits: but still, what were the country without the town? It is when men congregate in cities that the arts and sciences flourish, that knowledge increases, that commerce extends, and discoveries are multiplied. Do not give ear to those who cry up the country at the expense of the town; some prefer the one to the other; some love the country, some the city; but both are good, and let neither be disparaged. The city has been the true source of civilization; it is the point of attraction, the focus in which the rays of science diffused throughout the world are concentrated, and whence they again emanate and convey the blessings of knowledge to the most distant recesses of the country.

'But the tide is now beginning to rise. What is the cause of that phenomenon? What produces the alternate ebb and flow of this vast mass of water, which take place so regularly twice every four and-twenty hours? Is it an operation of the sea itself, or is it owing to an influence extending from distant worlds? You know that it is the latter, that it is caused by the attraction of the sun and moon. And what is this attraction? No one can tell; we only know it by its phenomena; we know that it exists; that by its influence the worlds throughout the universe are guided in their revolutions; that if this influence were withdrawn, the creation would run rapidly into ruin. The planets and suns would start from their orbits; the beautiful regularity of their motions would cease, and they would fly at random, and in disorder through the wilds of space. Yet we know nothing of gravitation itself; we know it only by its laws; we know that it extends to the most distant stars, and that, perhaps, there is not a single celestial orb which is not connected by it to the others; but what its essential nature is we can have no conception. And how many other things are there which we know only by the phenomena they present? What is the electric fluid? I cannot tell. I am aware that it causes the thunder and lightning; that it will strike a tower, and split it from the top to the bottom; that it kills men and animals; and that I can collect it by means of a machine, and exhibit it in a variety of beautiful experiments; but, after all this, I know not what the electric fluid is. And what is magnetism? Why does a loadstone attract iron? Here also I am ignorant. Why does a magnetised needle point to the north? I know not; but I know, that by its having such a property, that wide ocean before us can be traversed with as much certainty, and vastly more advantage, than if its place were occupied by solid earth. Some writers have objected that the globe on which we live has an undue preponderance of sea; but this is another example of human presumption. If it had come by chance it night have been too great or too small; but if our world was made by the Almighty, (and what else could have made it?) it must be as he intended, and therefore it must be right. But what is the fact? Could we have communicated with distant countries by land as we do by sea? Could we have brought the produce of the Tropics to the Thames? Could we have compassed the earth from east to west, and from north to south? Could we have calculated on the time in which we should reach the Antipodes ? Look at Africa and New Holland, and see how difficult it is to penetrate into the interior of those countries. On a little reflection, indeed, you will perceive, that were it not for the vastness of the ocean, we would be in great comparative ignorance of the earth, and that its great extent of surface is another proof of the wisdom with which all is planned.'-pp. 178-183.

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hares.

Birds, those both of the sea and land, the history of the whale, the subject of conchology, and some remarks upon the unnecessary cruelties of the experimental anatomists, next occupy the pages of this excellent little work. The whole is meetly wound up with reflections upon natural religion, the power and goodness of God, and the love of truth; which, like those already noticed, are marked by a pleasing tone of piety without cant, of knowledge without pedantry, and of unbounded benevolence, without a particle of norbid fondness, towards all the objects of the creation.

ART. VIII.-1. Philip Augustus; or, the Brothers in Arms. By the
author of " Darnley," &c. In three volumes. 8vo. London: Col-
burn and Co. 1831.
Mr. James

2. Arthur of Britanny, an Historical Tale. By the author of "the
Templars." In three volumes. 8vo. London: Whittaker and Co.
1831.

3. Pin Money; a Novel. By the authoress of "The Manners of the
Day." In three volumes. 8vo. London: Colburn and Co.
4. Haverhill; or, Memoirs of an Officer in the Army of Wolfe. By
J. A. Jones. In three volumes. 8vo.
1831.

5. Tales of Welshland and Welsherie.
Trevor," &c. In two volumes. 8vo.
1831.

London: T. and W. Boone.

By the author of " Reginald
London: Newman and Co.

6. Ivan Vejeeghen; or, Life in Russia. By Thaddeus Bulgarin. In two volumes. 8vo. London: Whittaker and Co. Edinburgh: H. Constable. 1831.

7. Authorship, a Tale. By a New Englander over-sea. 8vo. pp. 267. Boston Gray and Co.

1830..

8. The Old Man of the Mountain, The Lovecharm, and Pietro of Abano. Tales from the German of Tieck. 12mo. pp. 335. London: Moxon. 1831.

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MR. JAMES, the author of the first of the novels upon our list, informs us that it is the best thing he ever wrote. It is not often that authors form a proper estimate of their own works; nevertheless we are rather inclined to agree with him in opinion, that Philip Augustus' is by many degrees superior both to "Darnley" and "De L'Orme." It is a well wrought picture of the chivalrous ages, the chief traits of which are borrowed from well-authenticated memoirs of those interesting and perilous times. The scene is laid wholly in France, in the reign of Philip Augustus, who is himself the principal hero of the tale. Next to the sovereign in importance, so far as the story is concerned, is De Coucy, a gallant knight, whom we encounter, at the commencement of the story, returning from the last crusade, in company with his friend and brother in arms, the Count d'Auvergne. While proceeding through the most

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