plant is kept up, and the branches and leaves expanded by means of air bags, which are peculiar to this family, and it is by these they are floated to the shore. They lessen the specific gravity of the plant, and float it around the ocean, thus bringing it in contact with the alkalies and phosphates, which it collects.

Turning again to volcanoes, we find that they also supply nitrogen and carbon; the first in ammonia, and the last in carbonic acid. It is thus that these mighty agents of destruction, which seem the real antagonists of life, are in fact the appointed means of supplying the materials out of which all organized bodies are fashioned. Warm and mineral springs also contribute to the proportion of elements, so important in life. These agents, volcanoes and mineral springs, are connected with the interior of our globe; and as they supply the gases which nature is most constantly demanding, it may be inferred that the earth contains within itself a sufficiency for all future periods. As these gases depend in some degree on the proportion of animal and vegetable life, and the action of the atmosphere, they are in some measure unequally distributed; but this difficulty is relieved by the winds. They carry the excess of oxygen from the tropical regions to the higher latitudes, to give breath and heat to animals, and the surplus carbonic acid from the higher latitudes to the tropical forests.

Thus throughout the whole universe there is an uninterrupted chain of relations and dependances. We live not for ourselves, but for every one, for every thing else. There is no independence in the economy of God; all are ministers of His manifold designs, and fellow-laborers in accomplishing the object of His creation. Between the office performed by the algae and the necessities of man there exists, as we have seen, an important and highly interesting relation. Not less so is that which we maintain with the worm beneath our feet. The one gathers the materials scattered through the vast ocean and deposits them on the shore, where they fertilize and enrich the soil, while the other purifies that soil by extracting all injurious substances. For man all things seem to have been created. To supply his wants and gratify his desires a teeming world empties its rich profusion at his feet. To soften and ennoble his character, the music of a thousand spheres exants its melody. There is not a natural law connected with the force of attraction, the size, axis, and revolution of the earth; the proportion of land and water; mountain and valley; the composition of the earth, or of the atmosphere that surrounds it; or of heat and cold, that does not in some way, more or less important, affect the physical, intellectual, and moral character of man. This intimate relation imposes certain restraints and corresponding penalties for their violation. In our simplest exertions a hundred laws are involved, like so many wheels in a machine, and the most perfect harmony in their action is essential to success. If it were not for the laws of gravitation and repulsion we could not walk, and these depend on the relative magnitude of the earth and our bodies. The depth of the atmosphere, as we have seen, determines the condition of our fluids, and the resistance of our bloodvessels, while our respiration and transpiration are regulated by its weight, moisture, and temperature.

There is one general law, to which we will devote the remainder of this article. We mean that which regulates the expansive power of all fluid, and most of the solid bodies of our globe, when heated. Heated atmosphere or gases rise, as water does, in the form of steam. By this law we are relieved from the carbonic acid gas thrown off in respiration, which would prove injurious if reïnhaled. It is heated, and therefore lighter, and as soon as respired or thrown off it rises, while a purer atmosphere is inhaled. Here this law protects us from a most deadly poison. Our rains of course depend on this law, with all the blessings which follow in their train. But there are limits to this, as to every thing else, and these, in this case, are quite as important as the law itself. Water is evaporated by heat, and the vapor ascends; hence the phenomena of clouds and rain and snow; but it is condensed by cold to a certain point only. It has been ascertained that forty degrees is the mean point, and that water expands when above or below that degree. The necessity of this change is most striking, and the fact itself a most convincing evidence of the wisdom and goodness of the CREATING POWER. If ice were heavier than water, it would sink as fast as formed on the surface, and unless as rapidly thawed by the under layers, would soon fill up our lakes and rivers with solid bodies of ice, to the destruction of all animate matter in them. It is therefore as important that water should expand when frozen as it is that vapor and heated atmosphere should rise. Thus we see the importance of this general law, and the no less important limit to its action in the case of water.

We have thus, as far as our space permitted, grouped together in one general view a few of the most interesting phenomena, showing at the same time the relation they sustain to each other, and how the phenomena of life itself depends on the continued and harmonious action of the multiplied physical forces, which keep every part of the vast machinery in motion. In this view many of the most mysteries agents have not been referred to, because their connection could not be explained in an article of this character. We have not noticed that mighty net-work of electricity and magnetism which constitutes the nervous. system of our planet; an invisible and irresistible agent pervading all nature. It circulates through all the organs of plants and animals, and acting on the nerves, promotes the circulation of the organic juices; flashes from the thunder cloud; illumines the wide canopy; draws iron to iron, and directs the silent recurring march of the guiding needle;' lights the north with the changing and varied colors of the aurora; keeps the different particles of the earth's surface in an unceasing action by the exchange of properties; 'sustains a manifest relation to all phenomena of the distribution of heat, of the pressure of the atmosphere, and its disturbances;' is now the defence of a South American eel; and now the fearful presiding spirit of the approaching storm. Its agency is undoubtedly as important as it is mysterious.

Truly, all the elements and laws in nature, sustain an intimate relation to each other; all have appropriate duties to perform; and it may be doubted whether the action of the least and apparently the most useless agent in the vast domain of GOD, can be dispensed with. The

venomous insect beneath our feet, and the noblest and best of our domestic animals; the terrible forces of the earth, the tornado and volcano; the gently murmuring spring, and the boisterous ocean, the forest monarch and the pale forget-me-not within its shade, are all witnesses of creative POWER, and ministers of good. Man, to whom the distinguishing characteristics of reason and free-will have been given, is the only unfaithful servant. Every thing else performs a part, and performs it well.

Throughout this article, we have repeatedly referred existing phenomena to an invisible but all powerful cause, without and above the various physical agents which have been noticed. The division and distribution of the continental and oceanic elements; the analogous forms and arrangements of the continents and their reliefs; the harmonious action of the multiplied forces and agents of nature; the importance of the atmosphere, and the laws which make it the medium of exchange between the solid and fluid parts of our planet; and the local and highly important compensations by which the tendency of general laws is limited or controlled, cannot be explained by any proximate cause. The importance of these arrangements and the adaptation of the different agents to each other, and the harmony of the ever acting and reacting forces, which constitute the life of our planet, point us to some ulterior cause for the explanation we seek. If the existing continental forms were less intimately connected with the laws by which the other elements are controlled, and less essential in the economy of life, the evidence of original design which they furnish, would fail to convince the mind, however analogous they might be in themselves. Certain analogies might exist between continents, thrown up to their sition by the same indeterminate force; but that these analogies should exist just where they are required, and that contrasts should appear whenever they are essential, could not be expected without the agency of some designing intelligence. If a single note of discord could be heard, or an irregular movement detected in the vast domain of nature, then would we in some degree be excusable for seeking the primary cause of all these forces and forms in a power less perfect than the Omnipotent and Omnipresent CREATOR. We are not, however, left thus to grope our way through discordant and conflicting elements. The 'sensitive and reverent ear' of nature's votary is cheered with the perpetual and harmonious strain of her countless encouraging voices, which seem even now to recall images of primal innocence and beauty.

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The unequally woven carpet of flowers and plants, with which the earth is covered as with a garment, minister alike to the wants of animal life, and the exquisite sensibilities of the refined and intellectual, while every department and recess of nature teems with animal existence equally important and interesting. Far down in the bowels of the earth, where light cannot penetrate, and high above the region of perpetual snow, the chosen abode of the giant condor, the almost ceaseless hum of busy life may be heard, and its various changes distinctly traced. From the little animalcula with its existence of a moment, up through the multiplied grades and forms of life to the intel

lectual sovereign, whose spiritual part at least is inseparably interwoven with things eternal.

Each step we take in this mighty temple of varied organisms, at the head of which, and as the crowning piece, man, the noblest of created beings, has been placed, suggests new inquiries, which unanswered turn back upon the startled imagination, arousing the dormant faculties of the soul to contemplations of a higher order. The strain of music from the lyre of science flows on, rich and sweet, full and harmonious, but never reaches a close; no cadence is heard with which the intellectual ear can feel satisfied. . . . The idea of some closing strain seems to lurk among our own thoughts, waiting to be articulated in the notes which flow from the knowledge of external nature. The idea of something ultimate in our philosophical researches, something in which the mind can acquiesce, and which will leave us no further questions to ask of whence, and why, and by what power, seems as if it belonged to us; as if we could not have it withheld from us by any imperfection or incompleteness in the actual performance of science. What is the meaning of this conviction? What is the reality thus anticipated? Whither does the development of this idea conduct us?'

Beyond the horizon that binds our vision, and there only, will these questions, and others of a similar character, be satisfactorily answered. Thither with anxious eyes and trembling steps, with deeper interest and increasing humility and reverence, we advance. Confidently expecting an explanation of these mysteries, and a more perfect revelation of the glories, which are seen now through an obscured and imimperfect vision only, when the material veil is removed from the grand, still mirror of eternity.

CLOUD S.

I all clouds that surround the soul there are angel faces, and we should see them, if we were calm and holy.'

MRS. CHILD.

THERE's naught more loudly than the parched-up earth
Bespeaks the need of interposing POWER;

'Tis HE alone can send the blessed shower,
And plenty spread where threatened late the dearth.
Of clouds, then, mortal! learn the priceless worth,
And murmur not, however thick they lower,
How dark soe'er they make the present hour.

The cloud so small the fingers e'en could girth,
Grew larger as the prophet prayed, and brought

GOD's richest smile, for years, to ISRAEL given:

Then pray for clouds that guard the soul from drought,
Large clouds, whose grief-flood shows a spirit riven;

The thickest clouds with greatest good are fraught —
They 're but the faces of the host of heaven.

J. CLEMENT.

Buffalo, N. Y., Sept., 1850.

THE following curious poem was found among the neglected manuscripts of a young physician, who has long abandoned the poetic art for more practical, and certainly more profitable, pursuits. It appears to us to embody much of the felicity of diction and wild beauty of GOETHE's 'Bride of Corinth; at least it is the nearest English approximation to that poem which we know of.

In the ages which we call benighted,

And the German's old and wondrous land,

In an upmost story dimly lighted,

By a long and narrow wooden stand,

Darkly stained with blood,

The Dissector stood,

Held a purpled knife within his hand.

II.

'T was late, and all his comrades had departed,
Left him at his table there alone;
On the dreamy student, heavy-hearted,
Midnight stars in silent wonder shone;
From his eyes there came

Flashes, as of flame,

Born of sorrows to the world unknown.

III

To the church-yard in the moonlit meadow
Earthly hopes and earthly joys were borne;
Stolen to the land of dream and shadow

From his bleeding heart, her heart was torn ;
She his love allowed,

But her kinsmen proud

Had repulsed his gentle suit with scorn.

IV.

Droop'd the lady with her crushed devotion,
Nourished and concealed the fatal flame,
When her heart surceased its sacred motion,
Sister to the angels she became ;

He, oppressed with grief,

Sought a poor relief

In his studies of the human frame.

Quietly the youth a corpse uncovered,

By the sunken drapery revealed;

Awful thoughts around him never hovered

Near the dead; his heart had long been steeled:
Starting with a thrill,

Stood he then as still

As a brook by winter winds congealed.