So seldom is the leopard seen during the day, that no apprehension is ever entertained from it by travellers in passing through the jungles. The tiger is in India the dreaded tyrant of the forest, and wherever he chooses to make his lair, the spot becomes, to a certain extent, a solitude, and the abode of danger. It is a singular fact, that all beasts of prey of the feline race which attack man in India, prefer the blacks to the whites. It has been stated, times out of number, by experienced hunters, and I have never heard it contradicted, that if a European and a native have happened to be in company when a tiger has made an assault, the native has always been the person first attacked. This may, perhaps, be accounted for from the circumstance of tigers not being familiar with white faces, which may induce them to prefer the natural race of the country. With all their predilection, however, for copper or sable skins, I should be extremely sorry to come within the reach of these dumb epicureans, for although they may prefer that human flesh indigenous to the country, I have no doubt that for lack of a better object they would snap up a European without much ceremony. J. H. C. ON THE STUDY OF INSECTS. Is anything that proceeds from the hands of the Great Creator too insignificant for man to investigate? A moment's reflection will apprize us that the most minute insect must necessarily be as fully perfected in its structure, in its wonderful apparatus of nerves, muscles, respiratory organs, and organs of the senses, and all their functions, and its system of circulation, (proved by recent discoveries,) as the largest, and, according to its rank in nature, the most gigantic animal, over which it possesses an infinite superiority of muscular strength; and when we find that there are insects scarcely discoverable without a lens, must we not exclaim, with wonder and admiration, at the stupendous power evinced in their construction; and should not this stimulate us to learn as much as we can concerning these miracles, that we may be better able to appreciate the marvellous power displayed in their creation, although we can scarcely hope to arrive at the perfect comprehension of their least attributes, the complexity of their organization, when even most simple, the multiplicity of their instincts, the quality of those instincts, and their very powerful agency in supporting the universal equilibrium of nature? Who then is bold enough to say, even to what his arrogance and assumption have dared to style a contemptible insect; "Thou art beneath my notice," when he feels that the pigmy might reply, "Thou, with all thy boasted superiority, dost not comprehend me." Humility is the crown of humanity, and let us follow the words of Solomon, and learn wisdom from the ant.-Foreign Quarterly Review. THE TUBEROSE. THIS plant emits its fragrant smell powerfully after sunset, and has been observed in a sultry evening, after thunder, when the air was highly charged with electric fluid, to dart small sparks or scintillations of lurid flame in great abundance from such of its flowers as are fading.-Edinburgh Phil. Jour. THE RIVER MISSOURI, IN NORTH AMERICA. THE Missouri is one of the largest rivers in America the continent so famous for the greatness of its streams. Its principal branch rises in the Rocky Mountains, in about the latitude of 43° 30' north and the 112th degree of western longitude; its head spring is said to be not more than one mile distant from the source of another great river, the Columbia, which flows in a contrary direction into the Pacific Ocean. This branch has been termed by the American travellers, Captains Lewis and Clarke, (who explored the whole course of the Missouri,) Jefferson's River, in compliment to the United States' president of that name; and three of its tributaries have, in the same spirit, been dignified with the appellations of Philosophy, Philanthropy, and Wisdom. When Jefferson's river has run a course of about 270 miles, it is joined by two others, called Gallatin's and Madison's, after the statesmen so named; and their united waters flow together for nearly 3000 miles, under the name of Missouri, until they pour themselves into the channel of the Mississippi. At the distance of about 180 miles from this junction, or of 450 miles from the source of the Jefferson branch,-the river escapes from among the Rocky Mountains, and loses the character which, till shortly previous, it had borne throughout, of a foaming torrent. The spot at which it emerges, is remarkable for the sublimity of its scenery; for nearly six miles, precipitous masses of rock rise perpendicularly from the water's edge, to the height of nearly 1200 feet. "They are composed," says the official narrative of Lewis and Clarke, " of a black granite near its base, but from its lighter colour above, and from the fragments, we suppose the upper part to be flints of a yellowish brown and cream colour. Nothing," it is added, can be imagined more tremendous than the frowning darkness of those rocks, which project over the river, and menace us with destruction. The river, of 350 yards in width, seems to have forced its channel down this solid mass, but so reluctantly has it given way, that during the whole distance the water is very deep, even at the edges, and for the first three miles there is not a spot, except one of a few yards, in which a man could stand between the water and the towering perpendicular of the mountain: the convulsion of the passage must have been terrible, since at its outlet there are vast columns of rock torn from the mountain, which are strewed on both sides of the river, the trophies, as it were, of the victory. Several fine springs burst out from the chasms of the rock, and contribute to increase the river, which has now a strong current; but very fortunately we are able to overcome it with our oars, since it would be impossible to use either the cord or the pole. This extraordinary range of rocks we called the Gates of the Rocky Mountains." About 110 miles from this tremendous chasm, the "Falls of the Missouri" occur; and for the space of seventeen or eighteen miles, the river presents a succession of rapids and cataracts. At the "Great Fall," as the largest of these is termed, it is 300 yards wide; and for about a third of this breadth, the water rolls in one smooth, even sheet, over a precipice of nearly ninety feet in height. The remaining portion of the stream THE earth with its scarred face, is the symbol of the Past; precipitates itself with a more rapid current, and the air and heaven, of Futurity.-COLERIDGe. being broken in its fall by projecting rocks, "forms a splendid prospect of perfectly white foam, two hundred yards in length," with "all that glory of refracted light, and everlasting sound, and infinity of motion, which," to use the words of a modern writer "make a great waterfall the most magnificent of all carthly objects." The fall which is next in height, is perhaps a more remarkable object still. It extends completely across the river, where its width is at least a quarter of a mile; "the whole Missouri," says the narrative of Lewis and Clarke, "is suddenly | stopped by one shelving rock, without a single niche, and with an edge as straight and regular as if formed by art,"-over which the volume of its waters is precipitated "in one even uninterrupted sheet, to the perpendicular depth of fifty feet, whence dashing against the rocky bottom, it rushes rapidly down, leaving behind it a spray of the purest foam. The scene which it presented," add the travellers who explored it, "was, indeed, singularly beautiful, since, without any of the wild irregular sublimity of the lower falls, it combined all the regular elegances which the fancy of a painter would select, to form a beautiful waterfall." From the falls, down to the very mouth of the Missouri, a distance of more than 2500 miles, there is no obstacle to the navigation of this river, but what arises from the rapidity of its current. In this long course, its waters are increased by the junction of many other streams, both great and small; among the largest are the Yellow Stone, La Platte, Kansas and Osage, the first of which is 1880, and the last 133 miles, above the union with the Mississippi. It would be difficult to comprise in any general description, the characteristics of a river so extensive in its course, and fed by so many various streams; still the Missouri is sufficiently powerful to give to all its waters something of an uniform character, and one extremely remarkable. Its prodigious length of course, as Mr. Flint says, its uncommon turbidness, its impetuous and wild character, and the singular country through which it runs, impart to it a natural grandeur belonging to the sublime. "We have never crossed it," continues this writer, "without experiencing a feeling of this sort, nor without a stretch of the imagination, to trace it along its immense distances, through its distant regions, to the lonely and stupendous mountains from which it springs." The Mississippi is remarkable for the clearness of its waters, which are of a light blue, not unlike the hue of the deep sea, or of the Rhone at Geneva. The Missouri, on the other hand, is described as being "nearly as thick as peas soup," and of a dirty muddy-whitish colour. A glassful of the former appears as clear as any spring-water; one of the latter is perfectly turbid, worse than the rainpuddles on a highway-road," and in a few minutes deposits a stratum of mud; yet this turbid water, according to Mr. Flint, after the settlement of the whitish earth, which soon falls down, is remarkably pure, pleasant, and healthy; and another American geographer says, that it is more easily preserved cool, and fit to drink, than other waters are. The surface of the Mississippi, above the junction, is generally clear of drift-wood, while that of the Missouri is all covered with half-burnt logs, trees with their branches torn off, and great rafts or floating islands of timber, drifted from the interior, sweeping and whirling along at a furious rate. The Missouri enters the Mississippi from the westward, nearly at right angles to it; and such, says Captain Hall, is the impetuosity of its current, that it fairly divides the Mississippi even to the left or eastern bank. there were literally," he says, "not above ten or twelve yards of clear water on that side of the river, while all the rest was muddy. The line of actual contact was particularly interesting; it seemed as if the dirty Missouri had insinuated itself under the clear Mississippi, for we saw it boiling up at a hundred places. First a small curdling white spot, not bigger than a man's hand, made its appearance near the surface; this rapidly swelled and boiled about, till, in a few seconds, it suddenly became as large as a steam-boat, spreading itself on all sides in gigantic eddies or whirlpools, in a manner that I hardly know how to describe, but which was amazingly striking. At other places the two currents ran along, side by side, without the least intermixture, like oil and water; but this separation never continued long, and the contaminating Missouri soon conquered the beautiful Mississippi,—indeed the stain is never got rid of for one moment, during the 1200 miles that the united stream runs over, before it falls into the Gulf of Mexico." The Missouri carries down a great quantity of sand; this, with the aid of what is derived from the neighbouring banks, forms sand-bars (as they are called), projecting into the river. By forcing the stream towards the opposite bank, these sand-bars aid materially in the process of undermining its loose texture, yet they are themselves constantly removing. The American travellers mention an instance in which this shifting character was likely to have produced serious results. The party had encamped, as was often their habit, upon one of these sand-bars, and in the middle of the night, the sergeant on guard alarmed them by crying that it was sinking; "we jumped up," say they, "and found that both above and below our camp the sand was undermined and falling in very fast: we had scarcely got into the boats and pushed off, when the bank under which they had been lying fell in, and would certainly have sunk the two perioques (open oared boats,) if they had remained there. By the time we reached the opposite shore, the ground of our encampment sunk also." This incident occurred as they were making the circuit of the Great Bend. From the shifting of these sand-bars the bed of the Missouri is constantly changing; a chart of the river as it runs this year, says Mr. Flint, gives little ground for calculation in navigating it the next. The change, however, is not confined to its bed; the rapid and sweeping current of this river is constantly undermining its banks, large masses of which frequently fall in. The soil through which it flows is of a very loose texture, and the waters are perpetually scooping away the banks at one place, and depositing mud and drift-wood at others. Lewis and Clarke mention two spots, at some distance lower down than the junction with the Platte, at which a portion of the cliff or hill, in each instance nearly three quarters of a mile in length, and in one 200 feet in height, had fallen completely into the stream. "We reached," they say, in another passage, "a very narrow part of the river, where the channel is confined within a space of 200 yards, by a sand point on the north and a bend on the south, the banks in the neighbourhood washing away the trees falling in, and the channel filled with buried logs." Only a short distance from the mouth of the Missouri, as they were passing near the southern shore, the bank fell in so fast as to oblige them to cross the river instantly, between the northern side and a sandbar, which was continually moving with the violence of the current: the boat struck on it, and would have upset immediately, if the men had not jumped into the water and held her till the sand washed from under her. Our engraving contains an illustration of the interesting phenomenon of the falling in of the banks of this river Captain Hall describes the occurrence to which it refers. During an excursion upon the left bank of the Missouri, about twenty miles above its confluence, he set out to see one of those rafts, or collections of logs, which are to be seen in the stream. "Just before we reached the spot," he says, "from which we saw this raft, a portion of the bank, not 100 yards above where we stood, had been undermined and fallen in, by which a prodigious mass of trees had been projected headlong into the river. The interest of this extraordinary spectacle was a little diminished indeed by the reflection, that had we arrived a little sooner, we might have seen the actual plunge. I set about sketching it however with the Camera Lucida, as fast as I could, before the current carried away the fallen trees. As soon as this drawing was completed, I turned round, and shifted the instrument about six or eight feet further down the stream, in order to make a sketch of the point against which the raft of drift-wood was abutted. We had not changed our position more than three minutes, before we heard a tremendous crash, and felt the ground shake under us. stepping back to the spot where we had been seated in the first instance, we observed there had been another falling in of the banks, and that some of the very trees drawn in the first sketch, then growing in full vigour and beauty on the shore, were now lying prostrate on the tops of their predecessors. But, alas!" is the exclamation of this gentleman, "though we heard the noise, which was like that of thunder, and felt the tremor, and ran instantly back again to the point--we were too late-all now was still, though the very trees I had been sketching five minutes before, were lying either prostrate on the surface of the river, or with their roots high in the air, and their heads buried in the mud at the bottom!" On It has been contended by some, that from the length of the Missouri, the volume of its waters, and the circumstance of its communicating its own character in every respect to the Mississippi, below the junction, it ought to be considered as the main river, and to impart its name to the united stream during its course to the sea. Malte Brun states it to be now known that the Missouri is the principal branch, and has the better claim to the magnificent title of "Father of Waters," which the Indians have conferred upon the smaller one; and Balbi,-a still more recent authority, has a similar remark. An American geographer, however, Mr. T. Flint, remarks in opposition to this claim, that the valley of the Missouri seems in the grand scale of conformation to be secondary to the Mississippi,-that the Missouri has not the general direction of the lower portion of the Mississippi, but on the contrary, joins it nearly at right angles,-that the valley of the Mississippi is wider than that of the Missouri, and the river broader; and that the course of the river, and the direction of the valley, are the same above and below the junction. "From these," he says, " and many other considerations, the 'Father of Waters' seems fairly entitled to his name." Captain Hall also supports the claim of the more direct river of the two, to give its name to the joint current. THE FIRST ENGLISH BIBLE. Ir may interest some of our readers to be informed, that the approaching 4th of October is the three hundredth anniversary of the publication of the first entire Protestant English version of the Bible, that important work having been accomplished by Myles Coverdale, Bishop of Exeter, during the reign of Edward the Sixth. We extract from the Protestant Memorial, by the Rev. T. H. Horne, the following account of his remarkable undertaking. IN the year 1535, this most valuable present to English Protestants was completed abroad, under the direction of Myles Coverdale, a man greatly and deservedly esteemed for piety, knowledge of the Scriptures, and diligent, preaching; on account of which qualities King Edward the Sixth advanced him to the see of Exeter. This first translation of the whole Bible ever printed in English is generally called "Coverdale's Bible:" it is a folio volume, and from the appearance of the types, it is now generally considered to have been printed at Zürich, in the printing-office of Christopher Froschover. The following is the title-page of this extremely rare and curious volume. Biblia. The Bible, that is, the holy Scripture of the Olde and New Testament, faithfully and truly translated out of the Douche and Latyn into Englishe, M. D. XXXV. be. These thy seruant keepeth, and for kepin This translation is dedicated to King Henry the From Coverdale's Dedication to Henry VIII., it seems probable that his translation was permitted to be read by the people for in the year 1536, shortly after it was printed, a royal injunction was issued to the clergy to provide a book" of the whole Bible, both in Laten, and also in English, and lay the same in the quire for everye man that will to loke and reade theron," in every parish church; which was certainly equivalent to an express approbation of Coverdale's Bible, as there was no other at that time extant in English. Dr. Geddes (Prospectus for a new Translation, p. 88,) says of this translation, "From Genesis to the end of Chronicles and the book of Jonah, are by Tyndal; the rest of the Old Testament by Coverdale. The whole New Testament is Tyndal's." But from the collation of Lewis, it is evident that Coverdale corrected Tyndal's translation. Fulke (Defence of the English Traslation of the Bible) relates, that "when Coverdale's translation was finished, and presented to Henry, he gave it to Bishop Gardiner and some others to examine. They kept it so long, that at last Henry had to call for it himself. When they delivered the book, he demanded their opinion of the translation. They answered, that there were many faults in it. "Well," said the king. "but are there any heresies mentioned in it?" They replied, "There were no hercsies they could find." "If there be no heresies," said Henry, "then in God's The following specimen contains the nineteenth Psalm (conformably to the numeration in the Hebrew Bibles), as translated by Coverdale, by whom it is numbered xviii., according to the order found in the Septuagint Greek and in the Latin Vulgate versions. "The XVIIJ. A PSALME OF DAUID. The very heaues declare the glory off God, ad the very firmamet sheweth his hadye worke. One daye telleth another, and one night certifieth another. There is nether speach ner language, but the ir voyces are herde amōge the. Their soude is gone out into all londes, and their wordes into the endes of the worlde. In the hath he sett a tabernacle for y° Sōne, which cometh forth as a brydegrome out of his chambre, and reioyseth as a giaunte to ru ne his course. It goeth forth frō the one en de of the heauen, and runneth aboute vnto the same ende agayne, and there maye no mã hy de himself fro the heate therof. The lawe of the Lorde is a perfecte lawe, it quickeneth the soule. The testimony of ye Lorde is true, and geueth wisdome euen vnto babes. The statutes of the Lorde are right, and reioyse the herte: y comaundemet of ye Lorde is pure, and geueth light vnto the eyes. The feare of the Lorde is cleene, and endu reth for euer: the judgmentes of the Lorde are true and rigtuous alltogether. More pleasunt are they then golde, yee then moch fyne golde: sweter then hony and the hony com Coverdale called his version a "special" translation, because it was different from the former English translations: its noble simplicity, perspicuity, and purity of style, are truly astonishing. It is divided into six tomes, or parts, adorned with wooden cuts, and furnished with scripture references in the margin. The last page has these words: "Prynted in the yeare of our Lorde M.D.XXXV. and fynished the fourth daye of October." Of this Bible there was another edition in a large 4to, 1550, which was republished, with a new title, 1553; and these, according to Lewis, were all the editions of it which were ever published. (Lewis's History of English Translations of the Bible, pp. 91104.) Copies of Bishop Coverdale's version of the Bible are preserved in the following Libraries, viz. Of the British Museum and Sion College, in London; of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury, at Lambeth; in the Public Library, at Cambridge; in the Library at All Souls' College, and in the Bodleian Library, at Oxford; and in the Library of the Baptist Academy at Bristol. THE highest mental pleasures we enjoy here, only make us feel our capacity of enjoying still higher, unless this feeling is precluded by some impediment or other, great part of which originates in ourselves, and from our own faults. Though we did not make ourselves, we may very probably have made them.-DANBY. My precept to all who build is, that the owner should be an ornament to the house, and not the house to the owner. -CICERO. THE things for which I hold life valuable, are the satisfactions which accrue from the improvement of knowledge, and the exercise of piety.-BOYLE. 1 BEST TIME FOR TAKING EXERCISE. MAN being intended for a life of activity, all his functions are constituted by Nature to fit him for this object, and they never go on so successfully as when his external situation is such as to demand the regular exercise of all his organs. It is accordingly curious to observe the admirable manner in which each is linked, in its action and sympathies, with the rest. When the muscular system, for example, is duly exercised, increased action in its vessels and nerves takes place; but the evils arising from deficiency of exercise to all the functions of the mind and body, are the converse of the advantages to be derived from adequate exercise. The circulation becomes languid; the feebleness of action occasions little waste of materials, and little demand for a new supply; the appetite and digestion consequently become weak; respiration heavy and imperfect; and the blood so ill-conditioned, that, when distributed through the body, it proves inadequate to communicate the stimulus requisite for healthy and vigorous action. The time at which exercise ought to be taken, however, is of some consequence in obtaining from it beneficial results. Those who are in perfect health may engage in it at almost any hour, except immediately after a full meal; but those who are not robust, ought to confine their hours of exercise within narrower limits. To a person in full vigour, a good walk in the country before breakfast may be highly beneficial and exhilarating; while to an invalid or delicate person, it will prove more detrimental than useful, and will induce a sense of weariness, which will spoil the pleasure of the whole day. Many are deceived by the current poetical praises of the freshness of morning, and hurt themselves in summer, by seeking health in untimely promenades. In order to be beneficial, exercise must be resorted to only when the system is sufficiently vigorous to be able to meet it. This is the case after a lapse of from two to four or five hours after a moderate meal, and, consequently, the forenoon is the best time. If exercise be delayed till some degree of exhaustion from the want of food has occurred, it speedily dissipates instead of increases, the strength which remains, and impairs, instead of promotes aigestion. The result is quite natural; for exercise of every kind causes increased action and waste in the organ, and if there be not materials and vigour enough in the general system to keep up that action and supply the waste, nothing but increased debility can reasonably be expected. For the same reason, exercise immediately before meals, unless of a very gentle description, is injurious, and an interval of rest ought always to intervene. Muscular action causes an afflux of blood and nervous energy to the surface and extremities, and if food be swallowed whenever the activity ceases, and before time has been allowed for a different distribution of the vital powers to take place, the stomach is taken at disadvantage, and from want of the necessary action in its vessels and nerves, is unable to carry on digestion with success. Exercise ought to be equally avoided after a heavy meal. In such circumstances the functions of the digestive organs are in their highest state of activity; and if the muscular system be then called into considerable action, the withdrawal of the vital stimuli of the blood and nervous influence from the stomach to the extremities, is sufficient almost to stop the digestive process. This is no supposition, but demonstrated fact, and, accordingly, there is a natural and marked aversion to active pursuits after a full meal. A mere stroll, which requires no exertion, and does not fatigue, will not be injurious before or after eating; but exercise beyond this limit is hurtful at such times. All, therefore, whose object is to improve or preserve health, and whose occupations are in their own power, ought to arrange these, so as to observe faithfully this important law, for they will otherwise deprive themselves of most of the benefits arising from exercise. When we know that we shall be forced to exertion soon after eating, we ought to make a very moderate meal, to avoid setting the stomach and muscles at variance with each other, and exciting feverish disdisturbance. In travelling by a stage-coach, where no repose is allowed, this precaution is invaluable. If we eat heartily as appetite suggests, and then enter the coach, restlessness, flushing, and fatigue are inevitable; whereas, by eating sparingly, the journey may be continued for two or three days and nights, with less weariness than is felt during onefourth of the time under full feeding. It is frequently the custom, apparently for the purpose of saving time, to take young people out to walk about the close of the day, because there is not light enough to do anything in the house. Nothing can be more injudicious than this plan; for, in the first place, exercise once a day is very insufficient for the young; and even supposing that it were enough, the air is then more loaded with moisture, colder, and proportionally more unhealthy than at any other time; and the absence of the beneficial stimulus of the solar light diminishes not a little its invigorating influence. For those, consequently, who are so little out of doors, as the inmates of boarding-schools, and children living in towns, and who are all at the period of growth, the very best time of the day ought to be chosen for exercise, particularly as in-door occupations are, after night-fall, more in accordance with the order of nature. By devoting part of the forenoon, also, to exercise, another obvious advantage is gained. If the weather prove unfavourable at an early hour, it may clear up in time to admit of going out later in the day; whereas, if the afternoon alone be allotted to exercise, and the weather then proves bad, the day is altogether lost. When the muscular system is duly exercised in the open air early in the day, the power of mental application is considerably increased; while by delaying till late, the efficiency of the whole previous mental labour is diminished by the restless craving for motion, which is evinced by the young of all animals, and which, when unsatisfied, distracts attention, and leads to idleness in schools. To render exercise as beneficial as possible, particularly in educating the young, it ought always to be taken in the open air, and to be of a nature to occupy the mind as well as the body. Gardening, hoeing, social play, and active sports of every kind, cricket, bowls, shuttlecock, the ball, archery, quoits, hide and seek, and similar occupations and recreations, well known to the young, are infinitely preferable to regular and unmeaning walks, and tend, in a much higher degree, to develop and strengthen the bodily frame, and to secure a straight spine, and an erect and firm, but easy and graceful carriage. A formal walk is odious and useless to many girls, who would be delighted and benefited by spending three or four hours a-day in spirited exercise and useful employment. Let those mothers who are afraid to trust to Nature, for strengthening and developing the limbs and spines of their daughters, attend to FACTS, and their fears will vanish. It is notorious that many girls, from injudicious management, and insufficient exercise, |