IMAGE EVALUATION
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23 WIST MAIN STRUT

WfBSTIR,N.Y. USM

(716) •72-4503

CIHM/ICMH

Microfiche

Series.

CIHiVI/ICIVIH
Collection de
microfiches.

Canadiarv institut* for Historical IMicroraproductions / Institut Canadian da microraproductions historiquas

Tachnieal and BiMioflraphie Notas/Notas tachniquaa at bibliographiquaa

Tha Inttituta haa attamptad to obtain tha baat
original copy avaiiabia for filming. Faaturaa of thia
copy which may ba bibllographieally uniqua,
which may altar any of tha imagaa in tha
raproduction. or which may aignificantiy changa
tha uaual mathod of filming, ara chackad balow.

□ Colourad covara/
Couvartura da coulaur

r~l Covara damagad/

Couvartura andommag4a

Covara raatorad and/or laminatad/
Couvartura raatauria at/ou pallicui4a

r~| Covar titia mlaaing/

La titra da souvartura manqua

I I Colourad mapa/

Cartaa gtegraphiquaa an coulaur

□ Colourad inic (i.a. othar than blua or biacit)/
Encra da coulaur (i.a. autra qua blaua ou noira)

□ Colourad plataa and/or illuatrationa/
Planchaa at/ou illuatrationa it coulaur

□ Bound with othar matarial/
Rail* avae d'autraa documanta

Tight binding may eauaa ahadowa or diatortion
along intarior margin/

Laraliura aarrAa paut cauaar da I'ombra ou da la
diatortion la long da la marga intiriaura

Blank laavaa addad during raatoration may
appaar within tha taxt. Whanavar poaaibia, thaaa
hava baan omittad from filming/
II aa paut qua cartainaa pagaa blanchaa ajoutiaa
lora d'una raatauration apparaiaaant dana la taxta.
maia, loraqua cala Atait poaaibia. caa pagaa n'ont
paa tU f llmAaa.

Additional commanta:/
Commantairaa suppl4mantairaa:

Various paginga.

L'Inatitut a microfilm* la mailiaur axainplaira
qu'il lui a Ati poaaibia da aa procurer. Laa details
da cat axamplaira qui aont paut-Atra uniquaa du
point da vua bibliographiqua, qui pauvant modif iar
una imaga raproduita. ou qui pauvant axigar una
modilication dana la mAthoda normala da filmaga
aont indiqu^a ci-daaaoua.

I~~| Colourad pagaa/

Pagaa da coulaur

Pagaa damagad/
Pagaa andommagAaa

Pagaa raatorad and/oi

Pagaa raatauriaa at/ou palliculAaa

Pagaa diacolourad. atainad or foxai
Pagaa dicoioriaa, tachatiaa ou piquAaa

Pagaa datachad/
Pagaa d4tach*a»

Showthrough/
Tranaparanca

Quality of prin

Qualit* inAgala da I'impraaaion

Includaa aupplamantary matarii
Comprand du material auppMmantaira

Only adition avaiiabia/
Saula Adition diaponibia

r~| Pagaa damagad/

r~1 Pagaa raatorad and/or laminatad/

r7| Pagaa diacolourad. atainad or foxad/

I I Pagaa datachad/

rrn Showthrough/

I I Quality of print variaa/

r~n Includaa aupplamantary matarial/

I — I Only adition avaiiabia/

Tha
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Tha

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Pagaa wholly or partially obacurad by arrata
alipa. tiaauaa. ate hava baan rafilmad to
anaura tha baat poaaibia Imaga/
Laa pagaa totalamant ou partlallamant
obacurciaa par un fauillat d'arrata. una palura.
ate, ont *t* fiim*aa A nouvaau da faqon A
obtanir la mailiaura imaga poaaibia.

Tha
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Thia itam ia fiimad at tha raduction ratio chackad balow/

Ca document aat film* au taux da rMuctton indiqu* ci-daaaoua

10X 14X 18X 22X

26X

aox

12X

16X

20X

24X

28X

32X

TIm copy fNni«d hw* Hm bMit rtproductd thanks
to the gciMnMlty of :

DouglM Library
Quaan's Univartlty

L'axamplaira fHiiWk ffut raproduit griea A la
O*n«roalt« da:

Douglas Library
Quaan's Univarsity

Tha imagaa appaaring haca ara tha baat quality
poaalMa oonaMaring tlia eomlltlon and toglblNty
of tha original copy and In kaaptaig with ttia
filming contract spadflcatkNia.

Original oopiaa in printad papar covers ara filmad
beginning wrfth tha front covar and anding on
tha last paga with a printad or Hluatratad Impraa-
skin, or tha back covar whan appropriata. AN
othar original coplaa ara fllmad bagbmbig on tha
fkst paga with a printad or INuatratad bnpraa-
slon. and anding on tha last paga with a printad
or iliustratad imprasston.

Tha last racordad frama on aach microficha
shall contain tha symbol -i»> (moaning "CON-
TINUED"), or tha symbol ▼ (moaning "END").
whiclMvar appiiaa.

Las Imagas suivantaa ont MA raproduitas avac la
plua grand sdn. compta tanu da la condition at
da la nattati da I'axampialra film4. at an
conformM avac las conditions du contrat da
filmaga.

Laa axamplairas orlginaux dont hi couvartura an
papiar aat Imprlmda sont fiimAs an commandant
par ki pramiar plat at an tarminant salt par la
darnlAra paga qui comporta una amprainta
d'impraaslon ou dINustration, salt par la second
plat, sakm to eas. Toua laa autras axamptolras
orlginaux sont fUmte an commandant par la
pramlAra paga qui comporta una amprainta
d'impraaakm ou dIHustratlon at an tarminant par
la danMra paga qui comporta una talto
amprainta.

Un daa symbolaa sulvants apparaltra sur to
darntora Imaga da chaqua microficha, salon la
cas: to symbols -^ signifto "A 8UIVRE". to
symboto V signifia "FIN".

Maps, ptotas, charts, stc., may ba filmad at
diffarant reduction rattos. Thoaa too torge to be
entirely included In one expoeure are fHmed
beginning in the upper left liand comer, left to
right end top to bottom, es many frames as
required. The following dtograma illustrate the
method:

Lee cartas, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre
filmAs A des taux da rAduction diff Arents.
Lorsque to document est trop grend pour Atre
reproduit en un soul cllchA, 11 est filmA A partir
da i'engto supArtour geuche, do geuche A droite,
et do heut en bee, en prenent to nombre
d'imeges nAcesseire. Les diogrammes sulvants
liiustrent to mAthode.

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INSTRUCTIVE READER;

coHtiiTiiio or

IKHHUL INSTRUCTION) DESCRIPTIONS W NATURAL
OBJECTS, PLACES) MANNBRl^

AND OTHER INSTRUCTIVB AND USI9UL INFORMATION

VORTHlBVOUNO.

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BY BEV. B. H. THOBNTON.

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PREFACE. .

The precent Work owes its cxistenM «U«flf t* die foUowingdrotttn*
itanoes : The Conpiler, having hten in ftf •aify Ufe «i«eh oottTennnl
with the buaineM of Teaching, both in FamiliMeild Pobliethatittttione,
became earljr impruaed with the immenae imM|||ett ofiBobketeall^r

adapted to the oapacitiea and wanta of the riiii|^j|eaemtioB« To thia
■abject, much attention haa of late yeara been |ive», aaclfreal'inprore-
ment haa accordingly been made in the Sehool BooUa of aliifoantri^a
Where the importance of Education ia duly appreciated. The ihtereata
of Canadian youth, however, have in thia reepieet been Isnentably ne*^^
glHjied. To thia fact the Compiler had bia aittentioa often painAilly
tuned when discharging the duties of Chairman of the Sehool Commis-
aioneirs, during the two past yeara ; both from Ae almost univereil want
of interest manifesUn by the pupila in their reading: leaaona*' '■* ^<^l ** ^
from the frequent complaints of Teachera reepeottng the inadaptation of
the booka oommoi^ly in use, to the mental oapacitiea and local cireum*
stances of those nnder their care. It haa been jmtty observed, that,
"the great object of all inatructiona ahoudd be, to form Oooo MimtAL
Habits, to accustom children to dmwm beiwem good and evil, and^t»
teach them not only to acquire knowMMge, but to tmrfy it<£ All S|' ' ^
Books, then, should have n direct tendency to^'piiiauce llw
But vbat liaeful ideaa» it m^r reaonably be aaked#erill tkey'
what good hahits can they be expected to form, from such bOikt tijlni*
sent a copious selection of purely " Didactic and Argumentative pieow,'*
Speeches in the Roman Senate or the Briliah House of Lords, dee. f
Not only are there many local circumstances rendering such subjects
uninteresting to the youth of this Province, but from their very nature,
they are far above the capacity of those who are compelled to learn to
ftronowice them ; to undarstandiioea not seem to have been thought of.
An anxious desire to remove thefee serious objections and promote the
intereste of the young in thia Province, is the object aimed at in Taf
iNBTtvcTivfe Readxe— by giving prominency to such aubjects aa may
at once interest and communicate mai.-::'>tioa r*«M«tiiif the dutiea to
be practiced or the vices to be shunned' in early lite, or pcepare for occu-
pying honourably and usefully those places the youth otto*day are soon
to fill as members of Society. How far the objeot4n view haa becfi
attained, it remains for those to judge, who are engajied in the inatnic*
tion of youth or interested in promoting their wel&re. To a cttrefid
examiatUm, h is, to say the.|j|tst, entitled, inasmuch a« it will be found
to bear comparison in point of interest and ustfulness, with anything of
the kind yet before the Public i it ia hoped that, it m«r be fo^niMlven ti^
meet that </e«tdera<tfln,«rhich is by all practical and imelUgeHttil^hers
allowed to exist in ihia country. >: "

While a free useha%jMMn made of a ifgyf extenaive collection of the
School Booka most aiprofed in differe|ili|iils of the world, many of
^ the piecea have hevwippeared in:any JKm^ion of the kin^nnd several
lare new compilatioae whieh were found needful m older to preeeut im*
jportantandintereatinginfonaationitt a shape adapted to the youthful
|capaeity. Forthe eame reaaott,«oniideii^Ie libelant Have been taken
Iwith the phraseolenr of others, when ever it peeioed necesaair forJihia
■ — -"Drtant object.

WBitir. eth Mnreht lHi»

67931

DmoTtoM TO Tucmn».

TboM who art detiraos toaoaMUiI«iU imtmetion io the best possi-
ble way« ahevld keep before their minds the feet, that MU/rtH itlight a$
nmtk in tjnn kk g SitiniimftMthfk'lim^: prorided dbly that whieh
is preeeMad Io IBMB, be euHed to their eapaeitr- and adapted to their
aireDgth. Heaee not^lveboald every lesson be so prepared at to tk«.
read with foeilitjrr bqiAiTbiehejr should endeavoar to mske the pnptt
know Ike wumtktg09urt» reads. Nerer be satisied with the know*
ledf e of marA SMrely. To asewiaih that ideat in distinction from mere
words, Wjf reoeived bf the pOpil.the praetioe ofinterroiaiion should be
habitually resorted to. A Teacher who has not been la the habit of
doing this, oaa form no adequate notion of the amount of ignorance Md
nisappreh(Miaion which this ^Umgh-thate of tht mmd will torn i]^.^
This may be ilinstrated by a reference to the Appendix, which should
be a aukieet of daily attention. Ttie Prefixes, Aflbms, &o. should be
oarsfoily commilted to memory, a few at a time, and the pupils should
then be required to giTo additional instances of English Oerivat)Tes.
They should also be taught to separate the prefix Mi4(fixt &c. by atten*
tjon to the iuMe characters in the examples. Suppose the word intpec-
tion* occurs, aak its meaning? How it is derived or compoanrfed. dee. t
j^quire Ikeai then to separate it, pud they will reply m hj or apon,
^igMOff^look, and fioit, act or •action', "nien ask for other fnstanees in
W^|i|pl^e nmap0et^9oowm4 Pro^^epeet, re.epeOt, speet-aele, and sock
n» wiU then be giveok This teacbee the child to apply every word as
it i# brought before him ; it teaohee him to compare, to discriminate, to
judges a process by which he ia xen<tered capable of far greater mentat
exertion.

0«risg *• <^* 4i*oiiiiy of oMaiaibf M accurate inqtection of all tlk* ihMtt ai tht Work a*>
fenced, (Mac A a diHaacc froai Uw Pret^ leverat ,«rio».teTa oaaToidablr crep) iota tUir
edMica, tbt «oitltapoctairt«rwatek'«r« aiMtoirat—

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S£:CTION t.

ttlLlOlOUl Alio MOIUf. inTRVOTIOir.

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1
3
4

5
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6
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teittfns to be Taught Youth.. »% •»•* ,**»..»

Religion .«.;.. I..** ;»..*. »k.k»^.....* »••»

The MoraUofthe Bible.. »»»».... *•••.. .•••. t»»

OfoiirDuty toGod .kkk...»k...k..*...»k.. .y...*.^»

Of our Duty to Meta— Relative Dutieir..*.* •t;k**/«r*«i'(fV'*
Anapia* and Arophinomout*....* •••.•»»»»..••••• *'*')•*»«•»

Dutiei of Brother* and Siiteri.... »»••.•••• *«*r«*k*

Of Matteri and Servants. • ■.... •.••••••••»»•.»»•• • ^^••^•«ti'

Planeut and his SlaVesM*..** • ••■^••••••*

Duties4o Others in General ••»»•» •*••»*•.•••*••••**•■» 9

General Kosciusko ».» ••• #•••»»>>. 8

Of Forgiving; Enemies...... »..» »..•••.»•.•*..«.*••. 8

Story of Uberto^ .^ ..*•*»*..••••»»«. ....»=ik 9

Of Justice .....k.. .*»••».* 11

Thellonest Shop-Boy.. ••••*. «*»k 12

Miscellaneous Duties. ••.•««^..k. .•..•**..••••• l2

Evil Habits to be Avoided-«Olliyiiig » k 13

The Lying Shepherd Boy..... •.*k..«*....kp.* -^3

OfKvil Speaking. ..■•• ....k. .••*.•■..••..•••••*••* .••• '•4

Of Dishonesty-^ TAe Robber Bpmrrow,,^^^^ .• ^5

Oflnten)peraneek.kk....k %,••••• «••• • 18

Of Swearihg.k.. » «..••.. 17

Importante of Formiog Proper Habiu ••••;•.••«•• 18

luduBtiy.. ..•.••.••.... •....••••. ;...••.•...*»• 18

Perseverance. ... .4 .. • • ., •• '.•..• • . • SO

Fidelity ....;...;...;,. ......i... 21

On the Bible..... ••••»% ••' ^

On the Creation of the World k....kk*^f^»*. ;•..*».. 33

OnthePrieeofThhigs.....,........«...;..»;'u *•... 24

The Sloth and the Beaver Contrasted. »»•* ..«••.•••..•.. 25

The Sluffgard.... vi^k. .... ........ .•t^%.» l,k, . 26

The Birui of the Sivlour AnnoanoBd.... ...i ..•.•.. 27

Lines on the Same Subject.. li.. .•*•... •»•••*••....•• 28

On Principle and~Practice....kk. •..*••..•..••. •.••••.•..•. 29

On an Early Remembrance of our DeMMBdiuMM MKm Heaven. ... 31

The Bomb Shell,,.. ...»..., .... .•■.♦,,. ..ii .>....«>. ,... . , 82

Oil HomanitT to every xi^nfCieaMns... •.••••••••• ...'. .••• 33

Linei 09 the Sane dotjeet..** ••-•••••••.•••• •••••••••^•* 84

The Improvident TraTeller**** ••#•••• ••!••• 35

Thought on SlMping • 35

OonipUint of ihe Dying Yeor 3

What ii Tine? •••»#i..». ...., 3

■•^'*

SECTION II. '

MATCRAL H18T0RT.

The Study of Nature Recommended to the Young. . . -, , ,\ .

The Three Kingdoms of Naturo^Mineialt

Vegetablea. •••••••• • •■•■•••..••

Animali...«*»»**>«>v •••••• •••*••

On the Earth at Adapted to the Nature of Man

The Ocean • ••••

Addreii to the Ocean.

On iflanu— Roou..........

Leaves. «•...•.. • •

The Fall of the Leaf....

On the Adaptation. of Plants to their Respective Countries.

Description of tlie Banian Tree ...«.<

Adaptation of Animals to their Respective Conditions.. •« .

The Clothing of Animals...... .•••

The Covering of Birds... ...,

The Uses of Animals-^Quadrupieds ..<

Bird

Insects.... ..........••.•.••••..•..*•....•<

. Reptiles...... .V.. ....

Fishes.

The Cedar of Lebanon .'....•....
Clothing from Animals ..........

Silk.........

Instinct of Aninnals... ..•••.... •>

llabitations of Animals. .............••••..••.

Migration of Birds.'..'... •*•■•< *••••••

Migration— Tlie Stork.... ...t. ,

, ThiTtirtl^Dove.........;.'.. ..., ^...........

The Spider's Web......*.... «. ;....;..

The Tiger. . . . « •

The Bat.. ........................ >....•....«....

The Bob.... .....^..^.^ ..n. ••••••

The Lion.... ....^. ........ .\. ....... .,...*....'..., *.....

TheXionand Giraffe............. •...«.« ,.

ThePeliean... ...........•«•

The R4tii*-Snake .W......... 4

The Etephant...... ......'.'...•'.•. •••...... f •• .•

Sagacity of die Elepihaht.... ..«...*. ••.

American Mock Bird.. ...... ..••.... .««. •••••..•••••••...

^e Crocbdllet'. . • . ... . ..... , . . ... . »V. .,,....

The Bear... •••••••.• •••».•,•.••••»•«••••• •

AhO. firaoretary oird.a.*.. ...#«•■• *•.. ...|.. •*.,..•. «••. ...f .
•fMitiliBeit of Water**.* •••• ...* ••*..• «*..f»*..* ..*•« ..••ji,.

40
43
4«

45
46
48
51
53
95

100

104

105

106

107

110

112

Laws of VegeUtion «• 114

Th« Loeuit ••;;•••.. ••v*** ^^^

Tb« Sfiorfttoo ;;.;....««;«4«**« tit

Th* Folly of Athtism, tliotrn fifom Nature. 180

«ECTr<jNni. _^ . '4^

^ oiieRiPTioNorrLAOKf, MAirirxRS, &e.

Moaiit Etna <«<<*«••«•#«««««««<<<««•<•• •••• ISS

Swedish Psasanti...,,, . p. •,ii,»»»,f ,•»,*•••••••* •••• 183

Tha lilanoi, or Plains of South Amerioa««««.. »...•• .•••«••.« 124

The Kuinsof Heiculanaun ,,,• ««*<«f,««t»t 126

Pompaiii

...* * «.«<«*«. rl27

Laplandars f«.« ».««•« ^««,.....t.t.4 • 128

Lioef on the same SuhjsQt.. »v«r, ,..,,, .,,, ,... 129

Saanaryofth^ Apure. ....•••«<«<<<«• « 130

TbaFjmmids of Egypt., «,«..,. .,..,..,... 131

FalllFvf Niagara. .„,, ,.,,.. 133

Aelli^tions on tho Falls of Kiagara^*.-* c^^* p*** 135

itoe^'^" MuiDmies and Embaliping*. ,.^. .,*••. •.•.••••. 135

f^liacriptiQiiof % Prison in A marina f^/*f ^..,.*..*f 137

Mioan Ofseris ,.,, ,, ^.... 141

FSJarsofSandiatbe Dasect.,,, •»«•».. ..*,., 143

the Dutch , 144

Pompey's Pillar 147

Mount Vesuvius.. J,, 149

Description of a Fiast given at Loo Choo, to some British Offi*

cers, in the year 1816 151

Ancient and Present State of Mia Hory Land'. 153

Petra.... ....;. ...»;.......... 156

Oriental Marrfaga Processions'. 161

Turkey....................;......;:.., ,^ 1^3

SECTION, IV.

ADDITIOITAX VOtTRT.

. Aspirations of Youth .
The Orphan Child..
Home...... .;..'...

True* tfappihess not Local

The Hour of Death........ ,.......,..,..,.,......

The Burial of Sir John Moore...,. ••••. •••>.» •••• .••• . .*••

•too t'lum Cakes •• .... .*•. ....^f. ...... •«,»•. ..•taa.M^^i.v

Christ's Second Coming,.., .....;......♦... ...... *rf*^^4,»

A be ItiVening Clouds*. ..•«*• ...... ...... ..i,.** .« *• •»m»* .

TiieidieBoJ:. ...;..:..:.;;,;,,. :,,,,.,..'^,.„ .... ^J;.*.

Tha Orphain Boy...... ;,,;...;;','..*.'••• ...1..'. ....«•••.•••

The Treasures of the Deep..., .'....". ..'.. .^^^ »'*.V<** **•*•• ^*

A Mother' to Her Waking Infant...*. ,V..,.. -,..•.,, .^^^m ,,
The Graves of a Hduseliold".'./.'.y..\.*.. . '.'•.'. ;i%i I ',,j»^.,.

1«6
107
168
169
170
17o
171
174
1^5
175
176
177
179
ISO
J81

TimRom.... ».......;•. .»»•»%;;»• •».»...»•» 'fS

A^Aavl9i... ......;.... ^...k.. 113

The D««truetloii of 8«iiMlMrtli|..».*ii •»•••.»» t » IM

W«iMB.k.kk.M.*k*.« •. »•• 1B4

PmIm itf God in ProsMiity tad AdvtraUf 18S

T^Dibld. .k w; ., IM

TlMOMwUfttlMOTorUM World •..•\.... lit

ThoViolot..... 188

TboBMtor Land. .»..#».»••»••*•. **..t.k...*...*okk»».» 189

InttruetioM to ft Portor*k«kk**k«»k«.««».«... ki«kk»k 100

ThoVttlturoorthtfAlpf k kkk.» 191

ChriitiM MiMiuM.kk k 198

AddrvM to«St««mbo«tk .«.* •••..k«i.. 194

The LoTo of Christ, kk 195

Hebrew Melodvk *k.k..kkk.kk k.k..k.. 196

A Night Scene k..kk 197

The Soldieir'i Dreein...k .k j 198

ThoPiaee of Roet « kk.k..k ;.. 198

Mother, WhatitDeethf 199

The Sexton • 8M

Piny Sutordejr 911

WhntU That, Mother T SQ8

OmnipreMnce of God.. k.^ S04

SECTION V.

linOBLLAltBODg PIIOBB.

The ArtofPrintihg »• i205

On Prayer... .«»... 206

The Roman Judge.. •» .••..........» 208

Changeaofthe universe. 208

Benjamin Franklin... » *....*. 209

Iron 211

The Little Creole •*'%•** 213

Cireulatlonofthe Blood ...**. 215

Motes Rothschild 217

Avar................. 218

Adventure of a Quaker Vessel..... 219

The Young should be prepared for Death • ,,.. 221

Grace Darling 221

On the MicroRcope. ..;....... 223

The British Empire.. 224

The Conscientious Elector ^.i .....^ 226

St. PMlifk Neri and the Youth....;. 227

An Exann^le fof Youth... .^... ...;.....; « 228

Superstition. 228

Turkish Justice....^; .........;.....,......... 830

On the Organs of Hearing........................ 231

Perseirenmee.'. ...;; ...;........'.. ............ 233

Waouof Mankind...... .....;......:......;....... 235

A Scene of Horror la the Pyramids of B0pf.......... 237

♦ ^

\Uthoi of T»k)ng tni Taming |U*ph«ntt ^.,. 993

^bMibiii C»M • ••• •• JW

rh« 8(mo«m ••• i<*

riM Humtn Ftoe 943

kdvmturs with • 8«rn«tii ••• 244

rMbionabl* Dinner Party in Abyatinia 246

Ipoa Salf-Comlaot, at RagulaiAd by Corraet rrinoi|>le<« S4D

>n Valu*- 24(^

>n Wage* p 233

lowlo Maica Money ii&'t

>bMrvatioo» on Time 256

SECTIOiN VI.

XLEMSNTABV SCIBNOB

>rM«ltarand iu Properiiei 2.'(3

Impenetrability 258

Extension • 259

Figure 259

Diviiibiliiy 259

Inertia or Inaetiviiy 260

Attraction 26 1

Gravitation 262

^aws of Motion. 265

j«ws of Motion— (CoiiiinueH.) 267

Circular Motion 269

|M«chanical Powers 270

The Lever 271

Tiie Wheel and Axle 273

The Pulley 274

The Inclined Plane 274

The Wedge 275

The Screw 276

E * "^ r^9nOUlUin ••aa««««*«»a«aaa««e*ea*«***»e»«ee««ea*a««»ft m«' f

I Mechanical Pro(ieriiet of Fluid-> 273

[Specifio Gravity 280

Meebanioal Propertien of Air 282

Component Parts of Atmospheric Air 283

Component Parts of Water 286

The Agency of Water as Connected with Heat 287

A Brief Outline of the briiish Constitution 289

Appendix— Latin and Greek I^oots with Derivatives. 294

bhange

irtieuli

INTRODUCTION

The organs of Speech may be considered as an instru*

lent upon which we play every time we speak or sing.

^0 perform either of these perfectly, it is necessary th^t we

icome acquainted with the nature of the constri^ction, the

bxtent and powers of this instrument.

There are two Grand Classes, or Organs of Speech, the
^ocal and EnUnciative. The Vocal Organs are those parts
^y which we produce tunable sounds, — ^^they are called the
jarynx and Epiglottis or Glottis.

The Larynx \8 the top of the wind pipe,, and consists of

ive cartilages, and forms that knot which may be felt exter-;

[ally in the fore part of the throat. The small opening in'.

le centre of this) through which we brieathe, is cialled the

iloftis. By thls4ittle opening all the sounds constituting

ice are produced. This opening we can expand or conr,
ract at pleasure, and every change in Its dimiensionii
^hanees the quality of the sound produced. The wider the
^penmg, and the greater the quantity of air forced through
t, the greater is the compass of sound produced— and on
Ihe other hand, the voice is ipore or less shrill and feeble
Recording to the extent to which the opening, is contracted.
Vhe Glottis is always narrowc^r l^i women and young per-
ms than in men, and henre men's voices are deeper or
^reaterthan those of boys and women.

The Enunciative organs are those portions and membfsri
^fthe nkouth by ^bicn we add to the sound produced by
vocal orga;b8, in other wbrds by whicli we produce
articulate sounds. The principle enunci&tive prgaos ar0
le throat, palate, teeth, tongue, lips, and nostriTs. Aljt
Ihese are necessary to complete tirtibullition. Sp^ph,
rhether audable or Whispered U Voice modified by jtne en-
[Bciative organs^Aricufatd soundi cannot be produced tiljl;^
*ie8e organs attiflt the Voc&t, Sy forn(iiti| the Bound pro*'

duoed by them which we call voice— into syUablet and;
words.

Such being the imtrument employed in reading or speak*
ingi the following brief directions for the management of thej
Voice will be found of great importance:—

ARTICULATION.

ti *U?';-

•Articulation is obviously the first point in the manage*
ment of the voice, and one of indespensible necessity ;
because any imperfection in this respect, will obscure every
other talent in reading or speaking. The following defini<-
tion of Articulation given by Mr. Sheridan, in his Lectures
on Elocution may be regarded as correct. « A good articu-
lation consists In giving every letter and syllable its due pro-
poftic^^i of sound, according to the most improved custom of ^
pronouncing it — and in making such a distinction between
the syllables of which a word is composed, that the . ear
shall, without difficulty acknowledge the mmbers, and pier-
ce: ve at once to what syllable each letter belongs. Where
these points are not obvious the articulation is proportion-
ably defective."

The easiest and. most efficient mode of acquiring a correct
articulation, is to practice the vowel and consonant sounds
individually. Aa an exercise on each sound, a few unac-
cented words may be selected in which the sound is strong-
ly marked, and in order to proceed with some degree of
accuracyj the pupil should at this stage be made acquainted
both with the number of the sounds he has to use, and also
with their organic formation.

•Articulation also regulates the proportionate foi]ce of
syllables in a word. The accented syllable of a wor^ it
generally given with more precise articulation, and mops
exactness in regard to the quality of sound, than theunae-
centecj. Hence too much attention cannot be paid on the
pifit of the teacher, to the producing of the e^act soui^by
tbepapa in the un^cce^t^iyllfil^ ; j^^
every other %cquij|e^(||p^ icci^ ai^a^^siop Is dw.
foaodatlon of aU ^ti;|o! iplpro^OM^t* , ^en eoirrect ar-

aiiii

osyliablei an<l|

186, and also

licttlation is obtained, tbe next object should be to haveii
ifflooth, eveo) fiklt tone of ireioe^ and if it is not in ioiifie
sases natural) everjr encouragement should be bdd out to
Ifersevering practice to obtain it-^and such is the fprc^' of
[exercise upon the organs' of speeeh, as well as every othler
lin the human body, that constant practice wilt strengthen
the voice in any key we use it to. That tcey, therefore,
which is the most natural, and which we have occasion
most to use, should' be the one which should be most dili-
I gently improved.

The better to accomplish this grand object and obtain the

I full manaMment of the voice, it is of great importance to

;uard against a mistake respecting the various states of the

Ivoice an 1 tone of which it is susceptible. Many, even

|Teachers it is to be doubted, do not consider but a high tone

)f voice and a loud voice are synonimous ; and accordingly,

ihe pupil is often told to raise his voice. This mistake is the

lore dangerous, as the voice naturally slides into a highet

tone when we try to speak louder, but not so easily into a

lower tone, when we try to speak more softly. And upon

[this erroneous principle, pupils in our common schools are

I very often found reading with their voice raised to such an

[unnatural pitch as to render it utterly impossible to give the

various sounds their proper places, and set all attempts to

modulate its impressions into melody at defiance. Ilie

least refleclion) or at all events a few experiments, m^y

J satisfy any one that in proportion to the extent to which the

\pitch of the voice above what is natural, is raised, is its

vpluine or capacity for loudness decreasedL

PAUSING.

Punctuation is of two kinds, viz : Grammatical nnd
I Rhetorical. Rhttmcal punctuation means all the pauses
made in good reading or speaking. Crrammoftca/ punctua-
tion is a part of style, to the purpose of which it is explos-
ively applied. The points commonly used in gramnfatical
punctuation ar^ the comma, semicolpn ; colon : and priod.
The pdntt impt^p^rly called jMitte* or MofSy nrn cniplpj|^ed
in books to make th^ grammMical itractuire of a i^ii^ijee
I into ftt clanii^, brsneneia, menibeni^ tii4 ttrmin^tioh* They

■ '■% ■ » .

(•■■ •

should never be considered u |uidei in resdioj{ or spc^slt'
ing{ although too generally so employed not only iVi sipti*|
quated and incorrect systems or reading, but by many ti^iicli*
era. in the present day. Indeed this subject is s6 iUtlej
understood, yet of so great importance, that some farther ex-
planation is probably essential to lead to any thing lllcej
general correctness. The following it is hoped wjll be]
satisfactory : —

Grammatical punctuation does not always demand a pause,!
and besides, the time of these points as commonly stated inj
many school books, is egregiously incorrect. In most bOolc8,|
for example, the time of pausing at a/iertW, is described a$|
being /our times as long as that at a comma ; whereas it ill
regulated entirety by the nature of the subject, the intimacy!
or remoteness of the connection between the sentences, and!
other causes. They are unapplicable as guides formanyj
reasons— they were never designed as such, when placedi
as accurately as possible — for the grammatical structure off
the sentence they do not occur at one Aa//ofthe places f
good reading requires. And on the other hand, they are ^
often necessary in a grammatical sense where no pome \i
admissible in correct reading. To attempt a practical ap-
plication of them, theitefore, in the character of pausety inl
reading all the varieties of style, whether serious or coroic,|
deliberate or rapid, with or without passion, would be a|
buriesque upon reading, and set common sense at defiance.|
Grammatical points should be considered then, what tbeyj
teally are, a branch of style, and taught by the teacher of^
composition ; but the moment we regard them as guides to)
delivery, we find them deficient at every point. Their uaej
to a good reader is merely to prevent the construction
the sentence from being mistaken.* ^^ . ^..^^ ;<,

^ Bhetorical punctuation is a part of oratory mffepanblei
from all good reading or speaking. The following genenlf
rules for pausing deserve Attention:— I

.woras intenrene betwixt it iiod jt|pe yma whi«h g^vertiit.]

* CMvMail SjrtkaiMd OfMuur.

^,„.t Examplit* ^,,

Truth I IB the basis or excellence*

Trials I in this state of being | are tl^e lot of man. ,^,
The experience of want | enhances the value pf plenty. ,
We applaud virtue I even in our enemies. >

Honour | and shame | from no condition rise^
Death | is the season which brings our affections to the

J8t.

A public speaker | may have a voice that is musical | and
>f great compass; but it requires much time and labour |
|o attain its just modulation ] andthatvariety of flexion and
|one I which a pathetic discourse requires. — Remark. It is
lot requisite to pause so long after a simple nominative, as
^hen it may be said to consist of many words.
2. When the adjective follows the noun, and is succeeded
[ither by anotheir adjective) or words equivalci^i to it, which
)r(n what may be called a descriptive phrase, it must b6
sparated from the noun by a short pause.

Example. — He was a man | learned and polite.
With regard to the length of rhetorical pauses, that should
regulated by the length of the syllable, similar to rests in
lusic, the shortest pauses equal the time of the shortest
Syllables in the piece, and so on to the longest syllables*

An attention to what is principal, and what is subordi-
late in the construction of a sentence, is in all cases of tho
^ast importance towards a distinctive pronunciatioui and
furnishes the proper key to all coned pauses.

ACCENT OR INFLECTION.

The voice in reading or speaking is continually moving
)y slides or turns, from grave to acute, and from acute to

ive. Upon the right management of these slides not only
lepends all that variety and harmony which always mark

>d reading or speaking, but to a great extent the meaning
ind force of what is uttered. ;'*

Every syllable we pronounce is inflected in a gKatcfr or
iw degree; and though we often hear of the moficione in
sading, yet accurate observation tells us that no suctf't^tng
ixists in s|ioken language. " ' ^ ^^' •*

When a sentence iasaiCtb be read Ih Hikon^fM^ihe
leaningmust be, tkat It is nld^kdhousonly Bjf cbin^lMidn,

■uiBr.isffi ■■

*l*^40l.

zvi

w:i

for the reafihofiotond fieldiuS i^ttif^^liic ^tlong tn4 not
to the melody pfroeech. ' - -^ ^ ,^ ' ' ''' ^-^^^^l

Theae dideii iito cotiiift'ottl^ dtlled'^licfcimf.'' 'To ijH^ent
mistake or i^mbiguitjr oil Chlft important %dbjeci, lef ^ be
obierved that the tera ^(^eiiiK vijhen cfnhj^d^d W i^rtsnce
to the slides of the voice in reading oi'sMirkihg, heveri^ans
itrett w force or any kind on a syllaUle or word.' Tof^hre
the rising inflection is not to pronounos the word mvely
with Idudness, or to give the falling inflection is the woM to
be pirohouaced more weak or feeble.

The four following ihay be considered the principal infl.ec -
tiohs of the voice 1-^ - ^^ ^,,

1, The rising sluU^ or that upward turn of ihie Voi'^e
whieh we generally use in a'^king a question beginning with
iVerby and is marked with an acute accent, thufti (') ns
lyillyougfi? ' "^ '

2, the falling ^iide^ which is commonly used at the
end of a sentence, and is marked with a grave accent,
4bQs, C) a8> ^lio^^ o'clock it iC t

AH the varieties of accents, however varied in their ap*>
plication, originate from these two simple modifications of
the voi0e« They have been, therefore, justly described as
th^ a^t> on which the force, variety, and harmony of speak-
in| iurn^j and they cannot be too fully exemplified to the
pupl), ;

3, The ftting circumjkje, which begins with the falling,
and ends with the rising inflection on the same syllable, and
Js Riiirked thus, (^-<) as, Tdu, Sir !

4>., *\%9 falling circun\/lex, which begins with the riaittg,
and ends with the falling slide on the same syllablt^, marked
jihus, (^^) as. It was ydu. Sir !

Should we say ^o*y > or oozy " . . '

SLTil

•i'»

■:r T"

He iiiki rationtlly', not linmtioiii^' •
He pronoanoet eomctVy', nol iiMorr6etfy'«'
He means honesty'^ not diiboneity'*
They aete^ caatieiiily', not incautiotnly'*
We shooKl say altar', not altar.'
We should say eag^r". not eager' •
We should say oeean , not ooean'*
We should say oozy , not oosy' •

PROMI8CUOV9*

Was it Ja'mes or William? It was J^es, and n^
William.

Shall we have pekce or whx f Did you prpnounee that
sentence with the grjkve or with the nc&ie accent ? Taste
consists in the power of jiidging, not of executing.

Examples of the Cireumflex€9*
Did Jftmes say id 1 yesS Jftmes said it«
Did William perform his dtity ? Sdrely, hS ftlwayt does
bis d(ity. A child might understand it.
Would ^oubetrB|i4wur.)i;ing1 -,,,
Hear him, my lord ; he's w5ndrous c6ndesodnding«

The application of the accents must always vary accoid*
ing to the position of the words, whether in question or ans-
wer, in a negative, a conditional, or an affirmative express
sion. To fix piecisely, therefore, their application by
general rules as has been oAen attempted, is in the nature of
things impossible. The following rules referring to senlencee
and parts of sentences, comprise all that are essential and
universally practical.

I. AFFIRMATIVS SBNTf NCS8.

1. When the sense is complete, whether it be at the ter-
mioation of a sentence or of a clause of a aentencft, \m the
falling inflection. '^^ ' ' ^vf;

2. In negative sentences, on the contrary, as iiegftive
imembefs of sentences use the rising in8ectio,n«t.,; u^ />

I 3. When sentences are divisible into two wli,^:^^^ com-
mencing jMirtis distinguis^d by the rising inflec^f^.^.

[VhI

laii^vS

h. It, it to tbe impc^c^ntalile oblivioi^ <4 ^o^r ijBpi
that the world owei all its faicinatioo** ir^rA^iim^i^ si

AfB, in a virtuoua penon, carHiia with it nmioniff yfl
makea it preferable to all the pleaiurei o^youth^

Everv deaire, however natural, frowi dfuig^rpiiai ^hj
long indulgence, it becomes ascendant in the mind. .^ ..

You may lay it down as a ma»m, confirmed by universal
experience, that everv man dies as be lives ; and it is by the
general tenor of the life, not a particular frame of mind at
ll^^ hour of death, that we are to be judged at the tribunal of
God.

2* Tha religion of the gospel is not a gloom'y relig'Ofli
I cannot, I will not join in congratulation on rnifforiunp

and disgrace.

Gr^tness confers no exemption from the cares
rows of humanity.

Xt is not enough that you continue steadfast and itnmove-
abl6— ^you must also abound in the work of the Lord^ if
you expect your labours to be crowned with success.

If to do toere as eaty as iokn»»mMweT^ gao^ ibdb^
chajiela had been churches, and poor 'men's cottages^iides^
palaces.

fVkih dangers are at a distance, and do not ivimedtot^y'
approach ti«— let us not conclude that we are secure, unless
we use tlie necessarv precautions against them. > '^ ^

Asth€ beauty of the body altbays accompanies the health'
of ft'— 90 \t decency of behaviour a concomitant to vtrhle.

No man cian rise above the infirmities of Jfaiwrhy unless
assisted by God.

Your enemies may be formidable by their ntimberSy and
by their power' y but He who is with you is mightier than
they. •■ ' ' - . >,;^'lt^-

Virtue toere d kind of misery' -^M fame were aU the |ir-
land that crowned her.

' T&HV the charms of beauty idnd the uimbH eUgi^iitk bj
external form^, Mwt added^ thos^ accomplisbnenta * wM^
madd rtielf Slmnf^ioh irrililstiblet ^ ' ^^^^^'^ ^ *'^i «'^-

The^flly 'eiitee^^ io Ihese ruleatrorthyiof notice ooewi
in the case of antithetical sentences. Whemheeommenc-

'«.. .it.

six

ing member of tn tatiibeeiifiqiiiiM theielttife emphtiiis or
if oppiieed in tlie ooed^dlef member by e negjitivei ti|e lat-
ter htii tlte riein^ and the former the laHiof iaflebtioii-^ae
in tlie foHowint examplea s

We beve taien up anna to defen*d oar country, net tp
to betray it'.

The doty of the aoldier ia to obey*, and not to direct hie
general'.

IL INTfRROGATIVS atllTlRCia.

1. QueHiont aiked by pronouns or adverba generally
end with the falling inflection.

2, Questiont asked by verbs generally end with the rising
inflectioQ.

d. When the question affects two objects, taken disjuno-
jtively, the former has the rising, and the latter the falling in-
I flection.

Examples.

1. What evil can come nigh to him for whom Jesus*
liedl

2. Shall dvst and ashea stand in the presence of that un-

kreated'glory, befons which principalities and powers bow

I down, tremble, and adore' 1 shall guilty and condemned

I creatures appear in the presence of Him, in whose s'ght the

heavens are not clean, and who chargeth his angels with

folly' t

3. Are you toiling for fam6, or fortune 1
(U) Who are the persons that are most apt to fall into

peev'ishness and dejection' 1 that are coptinually complain-
|ing of the world, and see nothing but wretchedness around
I them t (3.) Are they the aflBuent' or the indigeiitV? (2.)

Are they those whose wants are administered to by a hun-
I dred hands besides their own' t wbo have only to wish and

to hav6t — Let the minion of fortune answer you. (2.)

Are they those whom want compels to toil for their daily
I meal and nightly pillow' — who have no treasure, but the

sweat of their brows'— who rise with the rising 6un,.t9 ex-

PQfe^tbeoifelves tA all the rig/surs ofjthe seasons, unsheltered
{from the winter's cold, and ujishaded fcoiujthe. summer's

" ««,'.IJJo» thf ,jlikblW*iSfilU«J^;W3erti^j<^^^^ of

• A NitBlhirifl ii • otauie fnisrttd i» ptrl of t
wbididoM noli Ael the contlniciioii.

The matter eootained within a^paraatkeilii breekelei eed
tU loote end intervening eleutefi thouM be leed in e lower
tone, and Mmewbat quicker than the lett of the itBleBeo's
witb a ahort f>atiie both before and after il-«and in general
the latt word should have the inflection whioh preeedet ft|
to bring the voice to the lame kej In which it wai before
entering upon it.

Ewamplu* i

^ Know ye not brethren', (for I speak to them that know the
law', how that the law hath dominion over a man ie long at
heliveth'.

Then went the captain with the officers and brought them
without vidlence (for they feared the people, lest they should
have been stdned) ; and when they bad brought them they
set them before the council.

Death (says Seneca) falls heavy upon him, who is too
much known to others, and too Kttle te himself.

If there's a power above ds, (and 'that thete is, alliNrture
cries aloud through all her works'), he must delight in virtue.

IV. 1MPHA8I8.

Emphasis, in the niost usual sense of the word, is that
stress with which certain words are pronounced so aa to dis-
tinguish them from the rest of the sentence. Mr. Sheridan
says, it discharges the same pert of office in a sentence, ^t
accent does in words. No word can be emphaticel unless
there be antithesis or contradistinction either expressed or
understood.

JExampIet,

Without hopi there can be no eaUtioH'
\: No one loves him' that only loves himself,
"f We should esteemvirtuef though in a/o^ ; and ahhor via
tfiough to a/rfem/. ;*

Many men mistake the l^. ft>r the prdctiee of virtue.
< TAereutef 6Vt^ diiHntt degrees ttftmphaai* df^iHIiE.

1. Wh^ t/kantitheiit^ W pppotition^ it erpretuitttid
not den' ed, ^ • • .' ■■•'.' -.^ :?;-%; ,^"'^-

jdki

id abhor via

:rj;r -rj^ IK'j..-

Thdre iMiiit to be'MI ihYi^^idtttod to greai, tnd mm«
to HitkretD^pmm } tome f«rMMlioiatrMd/r^ mmI otkan
Uf grovel oD the grouild^ and Conine tMi#MgM#'to«iM^
rmr ttphen, OftftMr, theoiM it in dingec <rir bMoMiing
uieleM'bjr i dbrM^ M^/tgciiee, th« oMer by i •ctmpidomt
•oUotCiide ; the one collecti many ideai, but eonfbied end
mdiittnct; the oiktr'}^ buried in minute aeeumey, but with-
out eompiM, and wilhont dignity, t*

S; When itu tmHihuit it neither expretmd nor denied*

Exampiet,

Did not y6u eay sol It was certainly J<{m«f that told
met I thinlL it was J6hn who came home fifitc I an not
veiy fCre, but I thial^ so. . • > ^< '>

Let it be observed that all such emphaaie have the meute
accent mIuv/

d» When the antitheide is expressed and denied*

It was Jiimes not Jbhn^ that told the falsehood.

He was more to be pitied than despised,

A countenance more in sorrow than in an'ger.

In such emphasis the affirmative has the grave accent,
with ft considerable degree of force^ and the negative has the
acute accent with less force.'

4. When the antithesis is not expressed, but understoodf
and is denied in the emphasis.

This has a stronger degree of force than any other em-
phasis, aud is aiways accompanied with the grave aorent,
because it is a^irme/tve.
: ., J wJH ndt say so. I want^Wh'ce, and I shall demdnd it*

It is not yotlr business. You are ^parHial judge.

And Nathan said unto David, th&u art the man.

The inflection of emphasis differs from that of merely
accented wards j as with greater force it is also more circum-
flex.

Emphasis effects a transportation of accent, when woHs
w|l)ich have a sameness in part of their formation are oppos-
ed to each ot^er in sense ; as Lucius Cataline wfui ^pert in
all the arts. of.nmulation' and d»Mimulatton\ :'.

y^<praa maybe rendered peculi a long

l^j^jMlgfore t^^^^ hey on

this eml^hiEitic wonfl': thus, Why should Rome fall—a mo-
iiiifii ere her timet

xxii

lOf THI DlfriRIHT MAIIIflBI Of lllASIlfG AND IPIAETIfl.

In good reading the mtnner nuit of coune 7%rf it ae-
cordanee with the varioua ityles and circumatancet cod-
nected with the iiibjebt. There are aome atylea of ipealk-
ing leM difficult than othera, and which therefore ought to be
practiced earlier.

I. THE NARRATIVB MAlflflR.

The first and simplest msnner of speaking is that which
if used in communicating ordinary information, when the
subjects are not of a nature to afiect the feelings — a manner
which must frequently be proper in all kinds of discourses,
whether narrative, descriptive, didactic, or argumentative ;
but which for distinction's sake may be called the Narraiivi
manner.

Examples,

I do not remember to have met with an instance of
modesty with which I am so well pleated) as that celebrat-
ed one of the young prince, whose father being a tributary
kingto the Romans, had neveral complaints laid against
him before the Senate, as u tyrant and oppressor of his sub-
jects* The prince went to Rome to defend his father ; but
com n^ into the senate, and hearing a multitude of crimes
proved upon him, was so oppressed when it came to his
turn to speak, that he was unable to utter a word. The
8tory tells us, that the fathers were more moved at this in-
stance of modesty and ingenuou«nes8 than they could have
been by the most pathetic oration ; and, in short, pardoned
the guiltv father for this early promise of virtue in tqe soin«

II. ARGUMENTATIVE MANNER.

After the narrative manner may be dew- ^^ ' * tu: JirgU"
menfative^ which is, that we employ when our businesa is
net merely to inform, but to convince. '"' '^■■

•' \Vhiie we suppose the mind of our hearers to be passive,
we i.^ire nothing to do but with self possession to |>re8eni
our iif4h]^*ct 'n its proper shape and colour; but argumen.i
im;^''';ef, f;piiiions oy contrary feelings to be combated ;-«»thi
vm'e b'.^ f mes louc^r, and geneirBlly higher ;— the inflections
ar« heightened $ that is, they move #uhfn gireaterlfitemis,
jitoing deeper into the grave, and highei^ Mo theactti^^^'the

rate ofjironunciation is stow, lAollffat^ and rabid iflmvik

si ? ^uii jj m ii,i.i f'. ,ud>t? 03 iliiw ivix ^ asm fadio^a 'i^'

\rj !to ac-
ncei coo-
of ipeak-

Might to b6

;hat which
when tho
-a manner
diBcourtes,
mentative ;
B Narrtditt9

instance of
tat celebrat-
a Uibutary
laid against

of his sub-
father I but

of crimes
ame to his
vord. The

at this in-

could have
pardoned
n the spin^

9fHI\tiOt.

business is

be
to ^

It arfunieni
ited;-^ihli
inflections

Iwlite^als,
lisaiij^the

stiii

--floWt when a particular polni require steady iUenUon — '
rspid, when premises careiully collected present a lutkien
irresistible conclusion.

Example,
Truth snd sincerity have all the advantsges of sppear-
ance, mfl many more. If the show of any thing be good
foi 'Tit J ^i i,/ I am sure the reality is better; for why doe*
ii.y man dinsembte) or seem to be that which he is not, but
L;;:c;^\^ 3 he thinks it good to haye the qualities he pretends
to. For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the ap>
pearance o( tome real excellency. Now the best way for a
man to seem to be any thing, is really to be what he wouKi
seem to be. Besides, it is often as troublesome to support
the pretence of a good quality as to have it; and if a man
have it not, it is most likely he will be discovered to want it,
and then all his labour to seem to have it is lost. There is
something unnatural in painting, which a skillful eye will
easily discover from nature, beauty and complexion. It is
hsrd to personate and act a part long ; for when truth is not
at the bottom, nature will always b» endeavouring to return,
and will betray herself at one time or other. Therefore, if
any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be sojn-
deed ; for then his goodness will appear to every one's sat^
isfaction. ruiottM.

111. MEDITATIVE MANNER.

Next in order to the Narrative and Aiigumentative, may
be described a manner which we may call Jiieditaiive, It
takes place when the speaker seems to follow, not to guide,
the U ain of thought ; that is to say, when he does not seek
to convey information of which he is previously possessed,
or to establish a truth of which he is previously convinced,
but reflect for his own iaformation or pleasure, and pursue
bis reflections aloud, la the mode of speaking, the tone of
Tolce ia generally low, ike rate of utterance taiSy, while the
thought ia uDdeterauned, but brisk when any point is sud-
denly aolved.

K^ 110 ; thiB Gfo t^ no miblic mad, that> certain : I am
loat, quite leal ii^deed* Of what advaitfage ia it now lobe
fr yiigt liiglit^ ahowa aae ao eeappet ^. I oshdoI aee better
that another man i sor walk ao well. What ia a king f la

xxiv

, he not wiser than another man t Not without hit counsel*
Ion, I plainly find. la he not more powerful 1 I have
often been told so indeed ; but what now can my power
command t Is he not greater and more magnificent 1 When
seated on hia throne, and surrounded with nobles and flatter-
en, perhaps he may think so ; but when lost in a wood)
alas ! what is he but a common man t His wisdom knows
not which is north, and which is south ; His power a beg*
gar's dog would bark at; and his sreatness, the beggar
would not bow to. And yet how on are we puffed wUh
these false attributes. Well, in losing the Monarch, I have
found the Man. Hark ! I hear a gun ; some villain sure ii
near. What were it best to dot Will my majesty protect
me ? No. Throw majesty aside, theii) and let my new*
found manhood do it.

TklPKing loit ia a wood while hunting ; ttom Dodtlcjr.

Ail discourse which does not acquire a character of expression from
pMsion or emotion, will fall under one of the thr^e styles above de*
scribed. But it must not be supposed, that in the sanae piece, the
style of speaking will continue unchanged throughout. A narrative will
frequently demand some of the eagerness of argument ; argument is
often accompanied by c statement of premises which must be made in
the plainest and simplest manner; and meditation, if the trains of
thought flow with freedom, will have the ease of narrative; if the
points are doubtful, it will be requisite that they should be balanced one
against another with the earnestneis of dioputation.

A modification of manner will also arise from the nature of the cnni'
poaiUon, and from the character and situation of the speaker. When^^
discpune turns upon strong and immediate interest^ and excites any o(|
the active or violent passions, as confidence, determination, courage,
fierceness, triumph, pride, indignation, anger, rage, hatred, fear, rev-
morse, despair, envy, malice ;— ~a manner arises which may take tli6|
comprehensive name of Vehement. Of the three plain styles of speaic
.log already named, the argumentative is that which is chiefly liable tol
rise^nto vehemence.-^In expressing tfOfi/Eiencr, courage, detetmina-^
Hon, pridefihit voice is strong and loud, but with respect to pitch, is ii|
a /firm middle tone. In remorge, hatred, envy, maliet, it is generalljl
Ipw and harah. Anger, rage, and eeom, have the same barthnestif
^ut usually the tone is higher. Remonetranee is Muerally in a lo«|
and more gentle tone. In detpair the voice is frequently, loud ^n'
•brill. lixtraerdinary vehemence in any of the passions general ly «e>|
celerates the rate of utterance; though in hatred and malice it. may' bt|
retarded, and become slow |nd drawling. There are also other modi'
liqatiQQS of o^^pufir, such as the Plaintive, Q^y, or Lively, aaff CHoom;!
iNT Sblemninanner, but which being s\mplq and more obviiousfrott )hi|
Mture of tbe tobfaets neeid not be neri partieutarly specified.
>i. lit si»r fe«<ii>ww ttie.yrtiM|M»Miaiicawiii <Mi ,s>SM>N«r ti^sfcfw t tm vn '■Mug

'lUtlSCd'

mStRUCTlV£ RfeAlJER.

SECTION I.
lELIGiOUS AND MORAL INSTRUCTION FOR YOUTH.

LESSONS TO BE TAUGHT YOUTH.

Prcpajre thy son with early instruction, and season his

lind with the maxims of truth. Watch the bent of his

icTmations; set him right in"^his youth j and let no evil

jabit goin strength with his years. So shall he rise like a

iddit on the mountains, his head siiall be seen above the

jes of the forest."' A wicked son is a reproof to his fa-

ler ; but he that doth right is an honour to his grey hairs'.^

(each thy son obedience, and he shall bless thee ; teach

im modcst}*^, and he shall not be ashamed; teach him

ratitude, and he shall receive benefits; teach him charity,

id he shall gain love ; teach him temperance, and he sh^ll

lave health ; teach him prudence, and fortune shall attend

jim ; teach him justice, and he shall be honoured by t|i«

I'orld ; teach him sincerity, and his own heart shall not re-

Iroach him ; teach him diligence, and his weahh shall in*

reaso; teach him benevoienee, and his mind shall be ^x*>

Ited ; teach him science, and his life shall be useful ; teach

^ira religion, and his death shall be happy. vod,\e,.

RELIGION.

Men are industrioup, that they may get food, clothes,
[ouiie-shelter, and other comforts. They eat and drink
loderately, if they wish to preserve health and an agreeable
tate of body. " They are courteous, modest, kind, and iR««
jfrenaive, if they wish to be well thought of by their fellow-
|r0atures. And they are strictly just in their dealings, and
the discharge of their duties, if they wish to think well of
lefflselves, and to avoid the punishment usually inflicted
pon wicked persons. All theise quttlilies are only of us«

INBTRVCTITB READER.

in making us pass happily through life. But man finds that I
he is connected with something besides what he sees and
experiences in this life. He asks how himself and ail the
world were j[;reated t He inquires if the mind is to perish |
like the frail body? To these inquiriesanswers have been
given in the bible ; where we learn that God, anAlmighty j
Being, created heaven and earth and all that they contain ; I
and that the soul after death, is to survive in another state
of being. The human being thus finds himself appear in a I
new and important light; he is not only a creature seeking |
for present happineiis, hut is pressing onwards to a spiritual
state of being, in which his happiness or misery will be in-
finitely greater than at present, and to which there will bej
no end. We learn in the Bible also, tiiat such is our con^
dition in this world as guilty beings by rebellion against ourj
Maker^that no efforts of our own could have enabled us to
i^ttain to happiness in the future state, but that God in hisi
great kindness towards us has arranged a plan for our sal-
vation, leaving us free while in this world to take advantage!
of that plan if we will. Those who take advantage of the
oJBTers held forth in the Bible, are assured of everlasting hap-
piness in communion with God, while those who fail to do
so, are as surely threatened with expulsion from God's pre-
sence, and with everlasting punishment.

To read and reflect upon these things — to endeavour by
the favour of God to run that course vvhjch alone can lead us |
to eternal happiness— and to seek by all proper means to
make others do so likewitie — are the highest and mostj
solemn of all duties. Various men have formed different {
opinions respecting the doctrines contained in the Bible, and I
respecting the best means of carrying on the worship of I
Grod ; and such differences are apt to lead them into strife.
The Bible itself calls upon us to be upon our guard against |
such variances, and not to be angry with our fellow crea-
tures because they do not think precisely as we do.

Besides perusing the Word of God aswntten in the Bible,
we should.as(*pportunities offer, study his works In the visible
creation around us. We there see, in a most affecting light,
the immensity of his power and goodness. What other

iNSTRVCtlVl RIADVR.

sing could have formed the vasi eacpanse of Heaven, filled
IS it is with worlds, all probably covered as ours is, with
sreatures enjoying his bounty t Who but he is able to bus-
^ain all these worlds in their proper placet Who but God
causes the sun to shine over us, or the food to grow by
[which we are maintained t Who but he could have so ar*
ranged all organised beings, that they can live, move,
md enjoy themselves, each in its appointed way? In con-
bmplaiing these things, we naturally feel disposed to adore
so perfect and so beneBeent a being, and to yield him that
ibedience which, in his word, he has called oji us to render
Ito him.

Monl Claii leak.

THE MORALS OF THE BIBLE.

[The hil^e furnishes us with the most perfect system of
noral duty ever promulgated. The earliest delivered mora!
|aw is briefly comprehended in the Ten Commandments,
^hich are as follows :; — ]

1. Thou shall have no other gods before me. .

2. Thdu shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or
my likeness of any thine that is in heaven above, or that is
)n the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the
;arth : Thnu shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve
them ; for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God, visiting
the iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third
ind fourth generations of them that hate me, and ^hewiiig

[mercy unto thousands of them that love me and keep my
commandments.

3. Thou shait not ta\(e the name of the Lord thy God in
^ain : for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketti

Khis name in vain. s^

4. Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy. Six
lays shalt thou labour and do all thy work : But the seventh
lay is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God : In it thou sh^It

Inot do any work, thou, oor thy son, nor thy daughter, thy
lan-servant, nor thy maid>servant, nor thy cattle, nor thy

stranger that :s within thy gates: For in six days the Lord
lade heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, and
sated the seventh day; whereforp the JUvd blessed tbo

INSTRVCTIVI RSADBR*

Sabbath-day^ Iin4 hallowed it. Jill iheae retpeet our duty]
to God* ,v <.

[At the commencement of the Christian Dispensation, I
the Sabbath was transferred to xhejirst day of the weeic, in
commemoration of the Saviour^s resurrection, and is called!
in the language of the apostles, the LoRD^s Day.]

The commandmeiits that JolioWf respect our duty to our]
fellow-mert : —

5. Honour thy father and (hy mother, that thy days may!
be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.!

6. Thou Shalt not kill.

7. Thou shaft not commit adultery. ^

8. Thou shalt not steal.

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against* thy neigh-
bour.

10. Thou shalt not covet thyneigh hour's house,thou shalt |
not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his man-.><ervant, nor hisi
maid servant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is
thy neighbour's.

OF OUR DUTY TO COD.

tTbe paiiaget narked by inverted commas ( <• ) in the followiiig paragrapbi are Bibl»

laufuagc.]

1. Of loving Hm.— «*Thou shalt love the Lord thy
God with all thy heart, and with ail thy soul, and wit)i alt
thy strength, and with all thy mind : This is the first and |
^at commandn>ent.'' »-

The Lord Jesua Christ says in like manner: — " He that
loveth father or mother more than ine, is not worthy of me;
and he that loVeth son or daughter more than me, is not
worthy of me.",

2. Of fearing God,— *^ The fear of the Lord is the be-
ginning of wisdom ; a good understanding have all they that
do his oommamlroents. Great is the Lord, and greatly to
be feared. Let U8 have grace whereby we may serve Him
acceptably, with reverence and godly fear."

3. Of glorifying Him. — "Glorify God in yowr bodimi
and spirits which are his. Therefore, whether ye eat or
<trlnk| or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.

igrapbi are Bible

IHSTRUCTIVt HBADIII. i

Them that honour Qod, he will honour ; but thej that
I despise him shall be lightly esteemed."

4. Of worshippingHm.^**Thou shalt wor8hi(» theLord
thy God, and him only ihnlt thou serve. Serve the Lord

I with gladness^' -worship Him in the beauty of bolinesiL
God is a spirit, and tliey that worship Him, must worship
Him in spirit nnd in truth.'' *'

[A worship performed with the mouth only, While the
heart is not engaged, is what He will despise — aH such re-
ligion is vain.] ' ,

5. Of trusting in Him. — "Trust ye in the Lord for
I ever, for in .the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. In
jail thy wayA acknowledge Him, and he wifl direct thy
I steps. Oh! how great is the goodness which thou hast

wrought for them that trust in thee, before the sons of men.

I It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in

princes. Cursed is the man that trusteth in man, and

Imaketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the

Lord."

OUR DUTY TO MEN.

First — Relative Duties.

1. Of Husbands and Wives, — "Husbands love your
[wives, even as Christ also loved the Church, and gave him-
self for itr So ought men to love their wives as their own
bodies : he that loveth his wife loveth himself: for no man
ever hated his own flesh, but nourisheth aod cherisheth it."

" WiVFS submit yourselves to yo.ur own husbands as un-
to the Lord : for the husband is the head of the wife. The
price of a virtuous woman is far above rubies. The heart
of her husband doth safely trust in her: she will do him
good, and not evil, nil the days of her life. Favour is de-
ceitful, and beauty is vain ; but a woman that feareth the
Lord, she shall l)e praised."

2. Duties of Children. -^^^ Honour thy father and thy
mother. Children obey your parents in all things ; for thii
is well-pleasing unto the Lord. My foti, hear the instruc-
tion of thy father, and forsake not the law of thy mother—
and despise lot thy mother when she is old. A wise eon

UI8tpiU0Tl(T& 9I4DSC4

mikicertitii glsd faiherf 6iit a rMieh jpn is the hftaVinefi of |
hta mother. Cursed be he that eettet? light by hia fkther or
^^^iJ§^^^» ^'* iatnp.ghalL^be put out in <ibt6ure darknew."
.%l|¥ottrTather and mother fed, clothed, and took ctre of I
l^u when you: were young and helplaie^ and without their j

Spdnessyou^^mlgbt hayediea of'Want ; It is threfore pro-
Nr that you should feel grateful to them, and Love them,
|U^ be ready to do them all the good in you power. You j
ip^uld^ in partictilar, be glad to obey them in all their reas- 1
apable^^tnests fllif:CommandB.]

' ; 4 ^ANAPIAS AND AMPHlNOmOUS.

Many hundred years ago, an unusually violent erup-l
tiort of MoAnPE^na took place. Biirning melted mat-
ter )>oured ihwn its sides in variou? directions, dei-
troying w^^ ^''^^^» ""^ ^^^ air'^was thicklTncd with!
faUingt cinders andashes. The inhabitants of tlkp neigh-
bouring country^ fled for their lives, carrying with them
the most valuable of their goods. Amongst these people,
BO careful of their wealth,were two young men named Ana- 1
pias and Amphinomus, who bore a very difTerent kind of!
btirdeo on their backs. They carried only their aged pa- 1
rents, who by no other means could hive been preserved.
L The conduct of these youths excited great admiration. It I
chanced that they took a way which the burning matter did
not touch} and which remained afterwards verdant, while
fill around was scorched and barren. The people, who
were very ignorant, but possessed of good feelings, believed j
ihat this tract had been preserved by a miracle, in conse-
^^nce of the goodness of the youths, and it was ever after!
Galled the ** Field of the Pious.^^ Mormici«i«oek.

3. Duties of Brothers and Sisters. — *< Behold how good
A^ how pleasant a thing it is for brothers to dwell together
ia unity !" Bntthers and Sister^ being brought up together,
eating at the same table, playing at the same sports, and
united by the love of one father and one mother, are always
expected to^love each other. If they do so, they showj
themselves to have good feelings, and that they are worthy |
of being loved by others. . But if they fall out and quarrel,
their conduct Will appear so unnatural and wicked| that!

tlftTRUOTlVB BEADBS.

■0

Compiled.

[ali other people will^elcMii them. '*Br<fther0 and Siaterli
who love each other, may also he of great uae in proinotirng
each dther^s welfare, when they grow up ; for tbl'a reason
they should cultivate each other's affections whefNshik^en,
with all possible care. Let it be your a*m my young rrieh4&
to please and to be pleased with each other — to bear mm
each other's faults and tempers'-^to feel and alleviate et<s^
other's griefi} and disappointments, and by continual kind be-
haviour, no less than by good offices, ni'oinote harmofty
amongst yourselves, gladden the hearts #^y our ^minon ''pa-
rents, and ^ive deligtit to all arouhd yoii. ^

Whatever brawls disturb the street,
There should be peace at home f ^ i

Where sisters dwell and brothers meet,
Quarrels should never come. -^

Birds in their little nests auree ;

^nd 'tis a shameful sight,
W4ien children of one /ami/j/

Fall out, and chide, and fight. ^^„,

it. Duties of Masters and Servants, — *^ Masters give
unto your servants that which is just and equal; Mowing
that ye also have a master in heaven ; neither ia there re-
spect of persona with him. Thou sbalt not oppresa an
hired servant that is poor and needy, whether he be of thy
brethren or of strangers that are in thy land. At his day thou
ihalt give him his hire, for he is poor andsetteth bk heart
upon it."

PLANCUS ANJ) HIS SLAVES.

« When Octavius, ILepidus, and Antonius, attained
supreme power at Rome, Plancus, who had once been
consul, was obliged to fly for his life. Hia 8l#es
were seized and put to the torture, but refused to dis-
cover him. New torture being prepared, Plancus could
no longer think of saving himself at the expense of auch
faithful servanta ; Ho came from his hiding place, and offer-
ed to submit to the awoirds of those sent to ti^^e his life.
An*example so noble, of mutual affection between a master
and his slaves, procured a pardon for Plancus, and madt til

IKSTHUOTITI RBADIIlt

tlie world tay (bat Plmneut 6v\y^ wt| worthy of ro gnod tt^
vanti, aad Metf only- were worthy of so tutxi a nianter.

Mbri^ClaMBoak

% ** S^rvanUt be obedient to them that are your niaateri
—not with eye aeryit'e aa.men pleaaera, but od tike aervanta
of Christ, doing the will of God from the heart." Endea*
vour ** lu pleane them well in all things, not answering
again, not purloining, but ahevving all good fidelity.'*
. Second-^Duiie* to olhtr$ in General. — 1. Of Doing
Oood-^**Iiet us ipt be weary in well-doing; for in duo
season* we shnll reap if we faint not. Aa we have there-
. fore opportunity, let us do good unto all men. Whoso hath
thia worid^s gtioda, and seeth his brother have need,iind
ahulteth up his bowels of compassion from him, how dwell-
eth the love of God in him? He that hath pity upon the
poor, lendeth- to the Lord ; and that which he hath given
will he' pay him again."

Oent^ral Kosciusko^ the hern of Poland, was a very be-
nevolent man. He once wished to send a valuaMe present
to a clergyman at Sdothuon, and not liking to put tempta-
tion in the way of a servant, he employed a young man
named Zehner, to carry it, and desired him to take the
horse on which he himself usually rode. Zeltner, on his
return, said he never would ride that horse again, unless the
general would give him his pur^^e at the fame time. Koa-
oiuako enquiring what he meant, he said, ** As soon aa a

{toor man on the road takes off his hat and asks charily, the
lorse immediately stands Etill, and will not stir till some-
thing iA given to the petitioner; and aa I had no money
about me, I was obliged to feign giving something, in order
to satisfy the horse !"

CkMtbtn* Jowntl.

^f Forgiving our Enemies. — " Ye have heard that it
hatii been said, thou ahalt love thy neighhor arid hate thic3
enemy. But I say unto you, love your enemies, bleoa them
t|[8t curt«e you, do good to them that hate you, and
pfiiy for them that despitefully use you and persecute you,
tluli, jie npfiy he the children of your Father who ta in hea-
' va9Cfi>r he maketh hie sun to rise on the evil and on the
^^flfifif ftnd aendeth his rain on.the juat aa well aa on the iw-.

• INITRVCTl Y I KBADftlU

jvMfitfd forgive inen their ^Mspeiqett your bepiMiily Ft?
ther will ilio . fofgive yen ; bu4 if ye (brgive not men Uieir
tratpasaee, neither wili your Felher Ivrgive your tretpeifMA
Dearlybeloved) avenge not ynfvnielvea, but rather give ptaoe
unto wrath ;: for it ia written v*<ngeaHceu mine IwiUfrepa^
t/aaith the Lordi Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed
him; if hethirsta give him drinlc. Oveicone evil with
goodt"

8T0RT OF UBERTO.

G^noa, a eity in the Mediterranean, was once remaii[a«
ble as a plape of commerce. It was usually governed by
a body of nobles ; but on one occasion the nobles lost their
power, and the city waa managed for some lime by a set
of men, elected for that purpose by the people. Thelead^
ing men of the popular government was Uberto, who,
originally poor, hod risen, hy his. talents and industry, to
be one of • he inost considerable merchants .

At length, by a violent eflbrt, the nobles. put down the
popular government They used their victory with rigour,
in order to prevent any attenript.being made in fiiture to
thrtisl them out of power. Uberto was seized as a tMtitor,
and the nobles thought they used him' very gently, when
they only decreed that he should be banished forever from
Genoa, and deprived of all h is propt^rty . To hear this aen*
tenoe, he was brought before the. new chief, magistrale
Adorno, a nobleman, not void of generous feeitng, btit-nsQ^
der0d proud by his sense of highrank^ and fierce in coiAeT
^uence of the late broils. Indignant,- at Uberto», he passed
ijie sentence in very insolent teraM* saying, <* You-^you-'^
the son of a base mechanic, wh9li^ve« dared to trample on
the nobles of Genpa^-you, by their clemency, are only
doomed to shrink again into thf!|^|iot)iiug from » which jkou
sjMrang." ■ ■.•'/' .,|.. ' ,■ w

Uberto bowed respectfully to the court, bu| said ^ t^
Adomo that perhaps be might find cause hereafter K^^ei*
pent the language he had «se4 He thenraet^sail for;]||T
nleS) where it chanced that some gnerehanta werft
debt. They readily |iaid what thjev owed, andr wd^
•mill relic «r his forlu^ei:he ^tm^pi^ to an iidaad«lij

4-4

mtTRVOTI?! RIAQBR.

Arehipettgn, belonging to the ittteer Venice. Mm* bit
indiwtry mid talenn for bubineM noon ralwtl lilm onMinoM
to wealth. Among other places which he ■ometimesviaiu
ed at H merchant, was the chy of Tunis, at that time la
friondnhip with the Venetians, though hostile to- most of the
ether Italian states, and particularly to Genoa* In Tuhls,
where the people were Mahommedans, it was eustonisry
to make slaved of all Chridtiaot taken in war. As Uberto
was on a visit to one of the first nien of that place at his
country house, he saw a young ChriMtian slave at work in
irons, whose appearance excited his com|)assimi. The
youth seemed to feel tne labour too severe fur* hik slender
frame; he leaned at intervals upon his ppade, whih a sigh
burst from his bosom, and a tear stole dotvn his cheek.—
Uberto addreused him in Italian, and the young man eageriy
caught the sounds of his native tongue. By a few bind
words,' 'Uberto soon drew from him thot he waa the aon of
Adomo, the chief magistrate of Genoa* The banished
merchant started at the intelligence, but checked hiuiidf
and hasitiiy walked away.

He iminediaiely sought out the corsair captain who had
taken the young Adorno. He asked what ransom was ex-
pected for the youth, and learned that, as he was believed
to be a person of importance, not lens than two thousand
crowns would be taken. Uberto intitantly paid the money*
Taking a servant, with a handsome suit of clothes, be re-
tired to the young nisn, and told him he^as IVee. With
his own hands he helped to take off the youth's fettere^ and
to change hfs dress. The»>; young Adorno thouftht it all a
dream, and at fiast could scarcely be persuaded that he was
soally no longer a siaye. But Uberto soon convinced him
hy^king himtb his lodgingsj and treating him with all the
kirmness due to a friend. When a proper opportunity oc-
curred, the generous iciiierchaht put young Adorno into a
veksel bound for Italy ; and ' having given him a sum of
money sufficient tO'ltear his e^tpenses io Genoa, ho Aid,
^l^tdear young frtend, I could with much pfeasur^ detain
yoi%hger here,if it were not (W the thought that you musi
be anxious to roturn to your parents. Deign to accept -of tkit

mfTiQOTlVl MAOsm.

>roviiion Tor yovr voyage* and deliver this loiter to your
iather. Farewell.*', The youth poured out hii ihenjie to Hie
Ibenefactor* and they parted with mutuiil tean aod ehibraeefl*
Adorno ar»d hia wife meanwhile aupjiosed that Ibe abip
Icontainirig their aon had foundered at aea, and they had long
Igiven him up ae dead. When he appeared before them
I their mourning waa changed into a trancport of joy* They
ciaaped him in their arms, and for 8om<* time could not
speak. As soon as (heir agitation had a little aubaidedy the
youth informed them how he had l)een taken prisoner, and
made a slave. ** And to whom," said Adorno, **am I in-
debted for the inestiinajile benefit of your liberation f*
"This letter,*' said the son, <* will inform you." He open-
led it and read aa follows : —

<* That son of a vile mechanic, who told yoo that one '
I day you might repent the scorn with which you trented
him, has the satisfaction of seeing his prediction accom-
plished. For know, proud noble! that the deliverer of
I your only son from slavery is The BnnUhed UbertoJ"

Adorno droppetl the Iptter, and covered his lace with hii
I hands, while his son expatiated on the virtues of UUerto,
and the truly paternal kindness he had ex|)erienced from
I him. As thj debt cnuld not be rancp|led,Ailorno resolved,
jifposible, to repay it. He exerted himself amongst the
nobles of Genoa, tn induce thom to reverse the sentence
! which had been passed on Uberto Time having softened
; their feelings, they granted his request, nnd he soon had the
[pleasure of communicating tn Uberto the intelligence that
he was once more a citizen of Genoa. In the same letter
he expressed his gratitude for his son's iiberation, acknow-
ledged the nobleness of Uberto's conduct, and requested Kis
friendship. Ubert » soon after returned to his native ci|y,
where he spent the remainder of his days in the er.joyment
of general respect. / iior.i ci^ »«*.

3. Of Justice^** Woe unto him that buildeth hisbfiaae
by unrighU*ousness, and hts chambers hy wrong ; that useth
hia neighbour's service without wages, and giveth him not
for his work. Thou shalt riot have in^ thy house dtvetv
measures, a great and a small, but thou shalt have a perfect

Md JMt meaniM 9 for sU thai do unrighteoutly are an tlfcHiil-
NMioo to tlM Lord.*' ' ''*'

Seareelj e^rw any (Mia proppera by chealinf , if not formatly

Etobad bj^ taw, he ta panithed by hirneighbouni, who
to daal a|Rin witbona who baa impoc> t upon them,
ia afoidad and deapiaed, and fiuda at last that the konni
mmtAi ia the only one which ia aura to lead to aucceaa.

TRl HONiaT 8H0P BOT.

» . '

<<A Gentleman from the. country placed hia aon with
m dry-goods merchant in New York. For a time all
wanton well. At length a lady came into the atora to
purchase a silk dress, and the young man wailed upon
her. The price demanded was agreed to, and he pro-
peeded to fold the goods. He discovered before he had
finished, a flaw in the silk, and pointing it out to the lady,
aaid, ** Madam, I deem it my duty to tell you that there ia a
iracture in the silk." Offiourse she did not take it. *

The merchant overheard the remark, and immediately
wrote to the father of the young man, to come and take him
home : ** for,*' said he, ** he wUl never make a merchant?^

The father who had ever reposed confidence in bis son,
waa much grieved, and hastened to the city to be- informed
of hia deficiencies. ** Why will he not make a merchant f*
asked he. " Becau.<ie he baa not tact" was the answer.
^< Only a day or two ago, be told a lady voluntarily ^ who
waa buying silk of him, that the goods were damaged ; and
I lost the bargain. Purchasers must look out lor themselves.
If they cannot discern flaws, it would be foolishness in ma
to tell them of their existence."

« And is that all bis fault 1" asked the parent. « Yes,"
answered the merchant, « he is very well in other respects."

<^Then I love my son better than ever, and I thank you
far telling me of the matter; I should not have him another
day in yoi?r atore for the worltl." a-.^,.. k.w,.>«.

4h Mitcellaneou8, — ^All things whatsoever ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to them ; for this
ia the law and the prophets. Let your light so shine befora
men that they may see ^our|;ood works, and glorify your

iMttauOf ITi KIAIMUU

Jii

reanalNMiiN

F<iher which it in h«i veo. Tho« «katt d«I cwm Um imt^ .
nor put a atmnbting blook befora (be blindy but abak (ww
tliy Qod. Thou ahalt riae up balbra the boarjr bea4 aad
liunour the face or the old aian. Owe no nan any tbiagi
but to love one.anQthefr Finally, whaiauever ihinfi aie.
true, wbSitaoever thingii are honeaty wbaiMoever thinfi are
juit, whatMiever thingi are pure, wbaiaoevtr thinga aM
lovely, whatMoever thing* are of good raport, if there l^may
virtue, or if there be any praiaef think on theae thtnga."

Dr. Franklin relatea the fullowing anecdote of Mr* Den**
ham, an American merchant :—** He had formerly been al
Bristol ; had failed in debt to a number of people j com*
pounded, and went to America. There, by a c^ae appli-
cation to businesi as a merchant, ne acquired a plentiful
fortune in a^few yeara. Beturning Jo England in the ihip
with me, he invited hia old ereditura to an errtertainroent,at
which he thanked them for the ea»y compoaition they had
favoured him with; and when they had expected nothing'
but the entertainment, every nian, at the removal of hia
first plate, found under it an order on a banker for the full
amount of the unpaid remainder, with interest."

rtMklia.

BVIL HABITS TO BE AVOIDED,

1. Of Lying. — «Thou ahalt not bear false witneaa
against thy neighbour. Lie not one to another, but apeaK
every man truth tr his neighbour. Lying lipa are an abomi-
nation to the Lord ; but they that d^at truly are hia delight.
He that walketh uprightly, and speaketh the truth in bis
heart ; he that awteareth to his own hurt and changeth not
— he that doeth these thinga shall never be moCed. A false
witness shall not he unpunished ; and he that speaketh lies
shall perish. All liars shall have their portion in the lake
th(it burns with fire and brimstone."

THG LYING SHBPHBRD BOT,

A Shepherd-Boy wishing to amuse himself at the ex-
pense of hiii fellow vtlkgere, came one day running along
crying " Wolf, wolf 1" as if one of these ravenous animals
had attacked his flock. The people eager ta defend the
sheep, bestirred themselveaj but when they came to the

B •

-. k^'.\

IMSTIRVCTIVS REASERr

plfce they <boDd no wolf there^ S9, after 8cot<ling tHe
young shepherd, they returned home. A few days at\;ef a
wolf did really fall upon the flock, whereupon he run awa«
10 ihe village crying «»Wolf, wolf!" with all his nsight.
The people told him they were not to be imposed upon
twice, they therefore were resolved to pay no attention to
his cries. It was in vain he protested that he was in ear.
nest this time | they would not give ear to a word he eai^.
The consequence was, that the wolf killed several of h .
sheep, for which his master immediately discharged him'*
Thus by telling a single lie, though in jest, this foolish boy
lost his place.

Mr. Parity in his travels through Africa, relates that a
party of arbed Moors having made an attack on the flocks
of a village at whicit he was stopping, a youth (iTthe place
was mortally wounded in the atTray. The natives placed
him on bV>rse-back and conducted him home, while the
mother preceded the mournful group, proclaiming all the
excellent qualities of her boy, and by her clasped hands
and streaming eyes, discovered the inward bitterness of her
soul. The quality for which she chiefly praised the boy^
formed of itself an epitaph so noble, that even civilized life
could not aspire, higher. **He never," said she, with pa-
thetic energy j ** never, never told a lie." Young reader,
can your parents or teacher say of you as the poor African
said of her son ? Alas t I am afraid too many must answer
in the negative. ^,

'tis a lovely thing (or youth v^p
To walk betimes in wisdom's wty ;

To fear a lie, to speak the truth,
That we may trust to all they say.

But liars we can never trust

Though they should speak the thing that's true ;
And he that does one fault at first,
^^ And lies to hide it, makes it two. wmm.

2 Of Evil speaking and Tale Bear ng.—** Speak not
evil one of another. Thou shalt not go up and down as a
tale-bearer among the people. He that covereih a trans-

iKftTRUCTlVC AtADIS.

grcddion seeketh love ; but lie that repeateth ^ o matter,
separate. h very fiiends. Where no wood it, the fire goetli
oiitj a*>, vvhere there is no tale-bearer the atrilb ceasetb."

.. Good name in man and woman
Is the immediate Jewel of their souls ;
Who steals my purs^ steals tmsh i 'twa« something,

nothing]
'Twas mine. Vis his, and bas been slave to thousands ;
But he that filches from me my godd name,
Robs me, of that which not enriches him.
And makes me poor indeed. sbakfpwn.

3 Of Dishonesty. — ** Thou shall not steal. ^JWhoso rob-
beth his father or his mother, and sailh it is^^ip transgres-
sion, the snniie is the coi^ipanion of the^destroyer. Let him
that stole, steal no more ; but rather let him labour, work-
ing with his hands, that he may have to give to hi« that,
needeth."

THB ROBBBR SPARROW.

A mirtln had built a nice nest for himself in the upper
corner of a window, teaving a little hole to go out and in at.
As the martin 'had taken all the trouble of building the nest,
!t was rightfully his property ; it belonged to no other bird,
for no other bird had any of the trouble of building it. A
eparrow of thievish disposition, chose to pop into the mar-
tinis net^t, when the martin was from home ; and when be
returned, he found his place occupied by the sparrow, who,
looking out of the hole, pecked at him fiercely, and would
not on any m^id^^nt let him into bis own house. The mar-
tin, who is a gentle bird, found himself no match for the
t>pnrrovv ; but it is supposed that he went and related his
case ta a few of his friends, for in a little while, a number
of martins were observed to come to the spot, as if to en-
deavour to persuade the sparrow to retire. The intruder,
. however, still kept his place, ea«Iy defending himself against
them all. They then went oflT again, and returning each
with a little mud in his hill, proceeded to build up the en-
trance to the nest, so that the sparrow soon died for want of
food and air, and was thus punished for bis roguery and vio-

."^

IRSTRUCTITB SBABIR.

Wh7 shnold I deprive my neighbonr
Of bi» goods agaifift his will ?

Handt wmv made dtr honnt labour.
Not to plunder or to st^al.

'Tia a fooliflh self-deoeiving.
By auch tlleks to hope for gain ;
^Ull tbat*s ever got by thieving
/ ;^ftrneta8orruw, shaqie and pain.

wmu.

4 Of falemperan<^,'^**Be not am^ng winebibbers, among
riotous eaters of fle^h ; fur the- drunkard and the ^utton
shall come to poverty. Who hath woes 1 Who hath sorrow f
Who t\ath Contentions T Who hath babbling? Who hath
vvpunds without cause? Who hath redness of eyes? They
that tarry iorig at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed
wine. Look not tlK)u^iip<»n it^hen it is red,when itgiveth its
color in the cup, wHen it mbveth itself aright; for at last it
bitelh like a serpent and stingeth like an adder. Woe unto
ttietn that are mighty to drink wine, and men of strength to
mingle strong drink. Woe unto hira that giveth his netgh>
bour drink, that puttest thy botde to him and makest him
drunken."

The eflfects of intemperance are written nut in pictures
horridly true and vivid in every town and villnge throughout
the country. Broken fortunes, blasted anticipations, ruined
health, disgrace, iiMii^r, want and suffering in every shape^
ar^ the prolific fruits of this wretched habit.

Have you any desire to be involved in tHffse miserable
circumstances ? t)e you wish for degradation §nd want ?
You are ready to start baok with terror and cry ** No, in-
dee J.'' And how do you expect to avoid them? Is it by
following ihfi same path that involved others in misery ? Is
it by imitating theaot, who in youth drank Avhen ever oc-
casion offered ? G(H>d sense it is bopedywill shew you the
danger of such ift course. There is one unfailing rule, and
but one, by following which every young person may be
certain of avoiding this vice, and all the long catalogue of
evils that invariably follow in its train, and this is to abstain
entirely from all drinks that possess power to intoxicate^ in

INSTRUCTIVB READER*

nil places and under every circumstance. This is yoUr oiity
safe gu ,rd. Observe this rule faiitifully, and you are safe
— you are entirely beyond the reach of intemperance and its
dreadful consequences. But break over this rule, however
slightly, or become what is sometime terixied tliie temperate
drinker, and you are exposed to the most iljlmineanrdanger,
and the chances are greatly against you^ that you will ere
l©ng be involved in the deepest evils t)f ftitemperonce.
Avoid it at the commencemertt — adopt it as one of tWlo-
flexible principles in your conduct to avoid partici pacing or
the intoxicating draught under any circumstances, except
where administered really as a medicine in cases of sick nete«> ;
and the cases are very few in which it is either expedient

or safe. 'AufliB'sVoit* to Youth.

5. Of Swearing. — -''Thou ihalt nal take the naine of
lh6 Lord thy Qod in vain. Swear not at all, neither by
heaven, for it is God*s throne, nor by the earth, for it is his
footstool, neither by any other oath ; but let your communi-
cation be yea, yea, nay. nay : for whatsoever is more than
this cometh of evil. Because of swearing the land doth
mourn."

Mr. John Howe being at dinner with some persons of
fashion, a gentleman expatiated largely in praise of Charles
I , and made some disagreeable reflections upon others;
Mr. Howe observing that he mixed many horrid oaths with
his discourse, tn«>k the liberty to say, that, in his humble
opinion, he had omitted one great excellence in the charac-
ter <)f that Prince ; which, when the gentleman had pressed
him to mention, and waited with impatience to hear it, he
told him It was this : that he was never heard to swenr an
oath in common conversation. The gentleman tcok the
reproof, and promised to break off* the practice.

Angels that high in glory dwell.

Ailore thy name, Almightv God !
And devils tremble down in hell,

Beneath the terroniof thy rod.
And yet how little eliildren dare

Abuse thy dreadful gloriottf ntme }

INSTBfUCTlVE READER.

WfttH.

Ani when they're angry how they swear,
And curse their fellows and blaspheme I

How will they stand before thy face.
Who treated thee with such disdain.

While thou shall doom them to the place
Of everlasting fire and pain 1

If my companions grow profane,

Til leave their friendship when I hear

Young sinners iake thy name in vain,
And learn to curse, and learn to sw^ar.

IMPORTANCE OP FORMING PROPER HABITS.

It has been justly said " that man is a bundle of habits,"
and from early infancy to mature manhood he is forming
habits, which will more or less influence his character
nnd enjoyments through life. Youth in this respect is a
i most important period. Then is the time, when the mind is
tender and pliable, to form those habits that will tend to
future prosperity and happineti's. F»r, let it be remembered,
that youthful habits art the seed of a cropt which must be
reaped in nfler life. If your seed be of the true kind, if you
obtain habits of activity, perseverance and energy, your
crop will be abundant and gratifying \ but if yaur habits be
the reverse, your harvest will be of a correF)>onding cha-
racter.

"Habits," says an excellent writer, " are easily formed,
— especially such as are bad } and what to-day seems to be
a small a(rQir,will soon become fixed, and hold you with the
strength of a cable. This same cable jou must recollect is
formed by s|yinning and twisting one thread at a time ; but
when conipleted, the proudest ship turns Its head towarda
it ana owns its power. Habits o^ tome kind will be form-
ed 1/ every youth — he will have a particular course in
which his thoughts and feelings, time and employments will
chiefly run." Among the habits necessary to ensure res-
])ectability and success, the following are of very high im-
portance : — Industry, Perseverance, and Fidelity.

Industry, — This is one of the most necessary and useful
babits. The A^oi^d IM) says^ <> We commanded you

INSTRUCTIVE RBADIR.

lat if any would not work, neither should he eat." It »

le 6r8t law of our nature, that every true comfort we enjoy

lUst be purchased by exertion. Of all habita that fetter the

luman powers, indolence is the most unmanty and debasing.

^f what value is an indolent man to himself or the world f

le is good for nothing, and worse than useless — he is a

)urden to himself, and a pest to society, and commonly a

grief to those connected with him. He can scarcely be

^aid to exist — he but vegetates like the weed in the garden ;

ind as the weed, he is disrespected through lile, and at

|eath is forgotten.

** Go to the ant thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be

nse." That little insect furnishes a useful lesson to every

lan of indolence. With a prudent foresight she industri*

\m}j << provideth her nfieat in the summer, and gathereth

|er food in the harvest ;*' and when the snows and frosts of

nrder arrive, they find her fully provided with comforts to

istain her until the spring. But the indolent man hat

ren less vvisdom and foresight than the ant. With him the

iture is all unprovided for, and in an unsuspected hour^

rant, as au armed man, seizes him in its bony embrace.

Ls a punishment God has entailed sicknete, iml^ility, un--

happiness, and premature death on the indolent.

Industry is tlie must fruitful source of that best of bodily
^lessings, health Activity too opens up streams of enjoy-
lent that otherwise would be clogged by indolence and
*eneral discontent and pain. Let the truth settle deep into
bvery mind that, health cannot be long en|oyed without in-
lustry. It is a good proverb, *^ that we had better ifvar out
Ihan rust out ;'* for this toearing out as it is termed, is in>-
leed the prolonging of life and health — but rusting out is a
living death. ** Pray, of what death did your brother dief*
^aid the Marquis of Spinola to Sir Horace Vere. *<He
lied. Sir," replied he, " of having nothing iodoV <(Alas,
Vir," said Spinola, <* that is enough to kill any General of
all."

The Turks have a proverb,^ that *'z busy man is troubled
^vith one devil, but the idle man v/ith a- thousand." In*
lustry then ranks among the best recommendationBa young

INSTRUOTIVB RSASIR.

person can poosew* He who has this qualification, can^
not want for employ n^ent, assistance, or Iriends The in-
dustrious youth, whoae other habits are good, will always
be respected and encouraged. But indolence, even thoi gh
connected with many good habits, inspires disrespect and

PerMveronce.— Perseverance is another habit which
young people t$houId earncHlIy endeavour to arquire. This
habit must be long cultivated before it can be fully obtain-
ed. But once acquired, a habit of perseverance well ad-

- hered to, will accomplish the most surprising results.
Through its influence Napoleon was enabled to scale the
«( cloud-capped Alps," — Franklin became one of the emi-
nent philosophers of the world. The beautiful islands in
the paci^c are hut immense coral reefs raised from un-
known depths by the perseverance of minute insectSjwhich
cany but One grain of sand at a time. It is related of the
celebrated conqueror Timour the Tartar, that upon an occa-
sion of adverse fortune, he Was compelled to hide himself
from his pursuers in a ruined building. While in this con-
dition, and while reflecting upon his ill fortune, he espied
an ant diligently engaged in efforts to carry a kernel of grain
larger than itself up a high wall. For a long time its efforts
were unavailing. Still at every defeat it would renew its
I^Kertions with unabated energy and perseverance. Sixty
nine times did it try to perform this feat, and as often failed.
But the seventieth time the industrious insect succeeded in
gaining the top of the wall with its prize. ** The sight,"
said the conquejror, ** gave me courage at the moment, and
I have never forgotteii the Idsson it conveyed." '

The example of the ant is worthy of all imitation. Let
your plans be deliberately and maturely formed — see that

"they are honest and homiurable — and then let Perteverame
be your watch-word, and you will seldom fail of isuccess.—
<* I can't,** never accomplished any thing ; but ** I will try,'*
has accomplished wonders in the world. When a proper
btflinesa is fairly undertaken, or a resolution formed, perse-
vere in its pursuit — bend all the energies of your mind to its
•ervice, and let no commcn tndu«^ment titrh you into ano-

miTRVCTIVB BCADKR.

kber tract. '' A young mnn who had wasted hia pttri atony
if profligacyy while BtaniJiiig one day on the brow of • pre-
jipice over which he had determined tu throwtiimselCformed
theaudden resolution to regain what he had lost. The puf-
thus formed, was kept and iiersevered in ; and though he
3gan by nhovetling a load of coal into a cdlar, for which
le only received a York shiilingt yet he proceeded from one
itep to another, till he more than recovered his lost posses-
sions, and died worth sixty thousand pounds sterling.*'

Fidelity.-^ A young person can 8c»iceiy possess a more
lesirable qualification than faithfulness to his empitiyers, in
lischarge of the business and interest entrusted to his dis-
)03al. Once let a young man obtain the name of being
faithful in all the duties and obligations resting upon him,
md he secures the confidence of the Whole community*
lut once let it be known that he isfaitAlejis, and all trust
[n him is destroyed, and his character receives a fatal
)1qw.

Have you business to transact 1 Do it failhrolly if yom

iwn, and especially so, if it is confided to you by others.

lave you work to perform t Let it be Aane faithfully. ?•

lear what you engaged to do, a.^d as near what it appsai-s

io be, as possible. Avoid all deception in regard to these

things. . A tradesman or merchant very much mistakes his

interest who slights his work, or palms ofi* his goods for what

they really are not. Such men may gain a few dollars in

Ihe outsei, by pur^i^uing this deceitful course, but a just and

ispeedy. retributioa awaits them.* Their deceptions are dis-

Icovered — their dishonesty is laid hare-r-and an indignant

IcommuRiity will withhold further support and encourage*

Iment.

A Mahratta Prince, in passing through a certain apurt-

Iroent one day, discovered one of his servants asleep with

[his master's slippers clas|ied so tightly across his breast that

[he was -unable to disen^ge them. Struck with the fact,

land concluding at once 'that a person who was so jealously

careful of a trifle could not fail to be faithful when entrusted

with a thing of importance, he appointed him a member of

his body;^uard. The result proved that the prince wi* no^

iMITRU'ttlVB RCAH^H.

(

mititakent Rising in office step hy step, the young man
•(Mm became the most distinguiihed military commander in i
Mahratta; and his fame ultimately spread throughout India.
Thus faithfulness w»li ever gain confidenve, and is one of {
the most esseniial ingredients in securing respect and pros-
perity. Be faithful titen — faithfulin all you do, even in thej
most trivial thing, and a certain reward awaits you.

Auftia'k Toict to Youib.

Look out of your door — take notice of. that man; see
what dii^quieting, intriguing, and shifting he is content to go
through, merely tabe thought a man of plafh-dealing ; three
gninn ot honesty would save him all his trouble. !,„„.

ON tHb bible.

The Bible tells us all we know of God — all wo know of |
heaven asia |>lace of joy, and of hell as a place of torment.
Such in the td/ormtf/v'oA of the Bible.

The Bible is the only book which tells us of the be^n-
ning and the end. It is the only book that makes known
to us our creation and redemption. No other book is the
Wtiri of God. Such is the authority of the Bible.

Tha Bible excites us to kindness, zeal, holiness, and han.
piness ; it upholds all that is virtuous and good, and con-
doms every thing that is sinfuj in thought, word and deed.
Such is the tpirit of the Bible.

The Bible tells us that all men have sinned and come
short of the glory of God, and that the wicked shall be cast
into hell, and nil the nations that forget God. Such are the
terron of the Bible.

The Bible tells us that God has found a ransom ; (hat
Jesus Christ, his Sv^/U, died upon the cross for sinners ; and
thai all that believe in him shaH not perish but have ever-
lasting Hfe. Such is the A');m! of the Bible.

All who believe the Bible, and live a life of faith in the
Son of God, have the promise not only of this life, but of
that which is to come ; and those whf> disbelieve the Bible,
despise the hope of salvation in a crucified Redeemer, and
lead a life of wickedness, have in this world i^ life without
peace, anil a fearful lookine for of eternal judgment in the
neiit. Such is the view held forth by the Bible.

INlTHoetllTB RtADBlf^

Doet thou reverence, love, and pr» 'ce the precepts of
[the Bible? the book is t blessing lo thy soul. Dost thou
Ideride, bate, and disobey the precepts uf the Bible t the
jbook will prove thy heaviest condemnation.

Old HuaphNjr'i ObwrviUeM. »
ON THE CREATION OF THE WORLD.

Before the sun and the moon had begun their courses ; be.
Ifure the sound of the human voice was heard, or the name
of man was known 3 in the beginning God created the Aea-
ven and the earth* To a beginning of the wurld we are
{led back by every thing that now exist ; by all history, all
records, all monuments of antiquity. In tracing the trans-
actions of past ages, we arrive at a period which clearly^ in-
dicates the infancy of the human race. We behold the
world peopled by degrees. We ascend to the origin of all
those useful and necessary arts, without the knowieilge of
which mankind could hardly subsist. We discern society
and civilization arising from small beginningti in every cor-
ner of the earth, and gradually advancing to the state in
which we now find them : all which afford plain evidence
that there was a period whtn mantcind liegan to inhabit and
cultivate the earth. What is very remarkable, the most
authentic history and cii/onologv uf most nations coincide»
with the account of the Scriptures^ and makes the period
during which the world has been inhabited by the race of
men, not to extend beyond six thousand years. But, though
there was a period wnen this globe, with all we see upon it,
did not exist, we have no reapon to thmk that the wisdom
and power of the Almighty were then without exercise or
employment. Boundless is the extent of his dominions.
Other globes and worlds, enlighted by other suns, may then
have occupied — they still appear to occupy — the immense
regions of space. Numberless orders of beings, to us un*
known, people the wide extent of the universe, and aflTord
an endless variety of objects to the ruling care of the great
Father of all. At length, in the course and progress of his
government, there arrived a period, when this earth was to
))e called ititqiexistence. When the signal moment, deter*

INtTRUCTlVS RIAjDUUu

mined from all •ternity, wat come, the Deity aroee in hit
mighti and with a wunJ created the world. vV'hat an illue-
trioqs moment wai that, when IVom non-existence theie
aprung at once into, being this vaat globe, on which ao many
milllona of creatures now dwell I No preparatory ineaaurea
Were require. No long circuit of means was employed.
He ipakef and it too* <knt ; he commanded^ and it ttood
fatt. The earth vm* at fi/'H mthout form and void ; and
dorknet$ was upon the face of the deep* The Almighty
surveyed the dark abyss; and filled bounds to the several
divisions of nature. He eaid. Let there be lights and there
was light* Then appeared the sea and the dry land. The
inountains rosef and the rivers flowed. The sun and moon
began their course in the skies. Herbs and plants clothed
the ground. The air, the earth, and the water, were stored
with iheir respective inhabitants. At last man was made
after the image of God. He appeared walking with coun-
tenance erect, and received his Creator's benediction as
lord of the new world. The Almighty beheld his work
when it was finished, and pronounced it good. Superior
beinga saw with wonder this new accetision to existence.
The morning stars sang together; and all the sons of God
ehoiUedforjoy, .1.1,.

ON THI PRICK OF THINGS.

Whenever I want any thing, I always ask the price of it,
whether it be a new coat, or a shoulder of mutton ; a^pound
of tea, or a bail of pack-thread. If it appears to be worth
the money, I buy it, that is, if I can afford it; but if not, I
let it alone, for he is no wise man who pays for a thing
more than it is worth.

But not only in the comforts of food and clothing, but in
all other things I ask the same question ; for there is a price
fix^d to a day's enjoyment, as well as to an article of^ress ;
to the pleasures of life, as well as to a joint of butcher's
meat. Old Hum| ' rey has now lived some summers and
wintfSFS in the world, and. it would he odd indeed if he had
passed th''ough titem ail, without (licking up a little wisdom
from his experience. Now, if yoir will adopt my plan, you

[ ■

t !

12 :ructivi riadir.

will reap much advantage ; but if you will not, you will
pay too dearly fur the things you obtain.

The spendihrift sets hia heart on expensive baublety but
he does not ask their price ; he is, therefore, obliged to give
fur them his houses, his lands, his friends and his comforts ;
and these are fifiy times more than they are worth. The
drunkard is determined to have his brandy, his gin, and his
beer, and as he never makes the price an object, so he pays
for them with his wealth, his health, his character, and his
peace — and a sad bargain he makes of it ! It is the same
with others. The gamester will be rich at once, but riches
will be bought too dear ; fur he who in getting money, gets
al:K> the habit of risking it on the turn of a card, or the throw
of the dice, will soon bring his noble to nine-pence. The
gamester pays for his riches with his rest, his reputation and
his happint'is^

1^0 you think if the highwayman asked the price of un-
godly gain, that he would ever commit robberyl No, never!
but he does not ask the price, and foolishly gives for it his
liberty and his life.

Old Humphrey has little more to say ; for if a few words
will not make you wise, many will not do so. Ask the
price of what you would possess, and make a good bargain.
A little prudence will secure you a great deal of peace. But
if, after all, you will have the pleasures of sin, I pray you,
consider the pric« you must pay for them.

Yes, thine may be the joys of vice,

And thine without control ;
But, ah I at what a fearful price—
The price may be thy soul 1
« What is ntian profited, if he shall gain the whole world,

ana lose his own soul ?'> , ow Hu^phr./. Ob..rv.lion5.

THE SLOTH AND THE BEAVER CONTRASTED.

The Sloth is an animal of South America ; and is so iii
formed for motion, that a few paces are often the journey
of a week j and so indisposed to move, that he never
changes his place, but when impelled by the severest stings
of hunger. He lives upon the leaves, fruit, and flowers of

llflTIIUOTIVI RCADBR.

trees, and often on the bark itaelO when nothing besidet U
le(\ for his Bub«i8tenco. As a large quantity o( food is ne-
cessary for his support, he generally strips a tree of oil its
verdure in less than a fortnight, and, being then dcstituie of
food he drops down, like a lifeless mass, from the branches
to the ground. After remaining torpid for some time, from
the shock received by the fall, he prepares for a journey to
•ome neighbouring tree, to which he crawls with a motion
almost imperceptible. At length arrived, he ascends the
trunk, and devours with famished appetite whatever the
branches afford. By consuming the bark he soon destroys
the life of the tree ; and thus the source is lost, from which
his sustenance is derived. Such is the miserable state of
tins slothful animal — How different are the comforts and
enjoyments of the industrious Beaver ! This creature is
found in the northern parts of the United States and in Ca-
nada, and< is about two feet long and one foot high.. The
figure of it somewhat resembles that of a rat. In the months
of June and July the beavers assemble and form a society.
They always fix their abode by the side of a lake or river ;
and you will find a description of their houaea and dams in
a subsequent part of this book. In constructing their build-
ings their teeth serve them for saws, and by the help of their
tails, which are broad and flat, they plaster all their works
with a kind of mortar, which they prepare of dry grass and
clay mixed together. In August or September they begin
to lay up their stores of food, which consist of the wood of
the birch, the plane, and some other trees. Thus they pass
the gloomy winter in ease and plenty. These two American
animals, contrasted with each other, afford a most striking
picture of the blessings of industry, and the penury and
wretchedness of sloth. pcrei«ai

THI SLUGGARD.

'Tis the voice of the sluggard — I hear him complain,

<< You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again."

As the door on his hinges, so he, on his bed

Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head :

** A little more sleep, and a little more slumber," —

Thus be wastes half his day8,and his hours without number ;

INITRUCTIVI RBADIK.

And, when he gets up, he sits folding his hands }

Or vvallts about sauntering, or trifling he standst

I parsed by his garden, and saw the wild brieri

The thorn and the thistle grow broader and higher $

Tho clothes that hang on him are turning to rags, .,

And his money still wastes, till he s arVes or he begs.

I made him a visit, still hoping to ^nd

That he took better care for improving his mind :

He told me his dreams, talked of eating and drinking,

But he scarce reads his Bible, and never loves thinking.

Said I then to my heart, " Heroes a lesson for me.

That man*s but a picture of what / misht be :

But thanks to my friends fur their care in my breeclirfg,

Who taught me betimes to love working and reading.**vrtui.

TUB BIRTH OF THE SAVIOUR AMMOUMCSD*

When the Saviour of mankind was born in Judea, his
birth was attended with no external splendour which could
mark him out as the promised Messiah. The business of
life was proceeding in its usunl train. The princes of the
world were pursuing their plans of ambition and vanity.
The chief priests and th^ scribes, the interpaMers of reve-
lation, were amusing the multitude with idle traditions.
Jesus lay negtecled in tke stable of Bethlehem ; and the
firat rays of the Sun of Righteousness beamed unnoticed on
the earth. But the host of heaven were deeply interested
in the great event. They contemplated, with pleasure, the
blesiitigs which were about to be dispensed to men ; and
from thei,r high abode a messenger descended to announce
the dawn of that glorious day, which the prophets had seen
from afar, and were glad. The persons to whom these
tidings of joy were first proclaimed, were not such, indeed,
ns the world would have reckoned worthy of fio high a pre-
eminence. They were not the wise, or the rich, or the
powerful of the earth. That which is highly esteemed
among men is often df little value in the sight of God.
The rich and the poor are alike to him. He prefers the
simplic'^y of a candid mind to all those artificial accom-
plishmentp which attract the admiration of the giddy mylti-

INSTRUCTITB RSADfiR.

tude* It was to the shepherds of Bethlehem that the angel
appeared ;— to men obscure and undistinguished among their
brethren, who, in the silence of night, were following their
peaceful occupation, far from the vipes of courts^ and the
prejudices of the synagogue. But the manner in which the
birth of (he Messiah was announced, was suited to the dig-
nity of so great an occasion. At midnight, these shep-
herds were tending their flocks, and all was dark and still in
the fields of Bethlehem ; when, on a sudden, a light from
from heaven filled the plain, and the angel of the Lord stood
revealed before them. So unusual an appearance struck
them with awe, they Hnsw not with what tidings this mes-
senger might be charged. But the voice of the angel soon
quieted their fears ; it was a message of mercy with which
he was intrusted. Behold, I bring unto you good tidings of
great joy, wliich shall be to all people. For unto you is
born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ
the Lord.'* upodie.

When Jordan bushed his waters still,
And silence slept on ZJon's hill ;'
When Bethel's shepherds through the night,
Watched o'er their flocks by starry light.

, Hark ! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound
In distant hallelujah's stole,
Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.

Then swift to every startled eye,
New streams of glory light the sky.
Heaven bursts her azure bars to pour
Her spirits to the midnight hour.

On wheels of light, on wings of flame,
The glorious hosts of Zion came ;
High heaven with songs of triumph rung,
While thus they struck their harps and sung— ^

" Zion 1 lift thy raptured eye, ^

Xhe long-expected hour is nigh ;

IM8TRUCTITI READER^

The joys of nature rise again.

The Prince of Salem comes to reign.

, See^ mercy from her golden urn,
Pouiv a rich stream to them that mourn i
Behold she binds with tender care
The bleeding bosom of despair.

He earnest to eheer the trembling heart,
Bid Satan and his ho^ts depart ;
Again ther day-star gilds the gloom^
Again the bowers of Eden bloom !

Zion lift thy raptured eye,
The long-expected hour is nigh ; ^ « *

The joys of nature rise again,
' The Prince of Salem comes to reign.'^ ca«|.b*ii.

ON PRINCIPLE AND PRACTICE*

It is of no use talking} for if a man have not correct |)n'n-
cipUf and if his practice be not in agreement with if, all
the advantages in the world will never make him what he
should be.

A poor man came to me to ask my advice about com-
panions. ** Why," said I, ** companions may be found as
plentiful as thorns upon a goose-berry busB, and the one
will prove as sharp to your bosom as the other will be to
your fingers, if you are not careful t but let Principle and -
Practice be your companions ; the former will direct you in
all cases, what is best to be done, and the latter will enable
you to do it in the best manner. So long as you and Prin-
ciple and Practice agree, so long will you prosper ; but the
moment you begin to differ, your prosperity and your peace
will melt away like a snow-ball in a kettle of boiling water.

A rich man stopped to talk to me about a new carriage,
((Never mind your carriage,'' said T,'*but take special care of
your horses. Principle and Practice are a pair of the best
coach-horses in the world f while they run neck and neck
together, you and your carriage will bowl along jsafely, but
hold them up tightly, for if one trips, it will go hard with
the other, and you may find yourself in the mire a day soon-
er than you expect."

INSTItUCTlVfi READER.

Said a merchant to me, ** I am about to send off a nch
cargo, and must have a captain and a mate who are exper-
ienced pilots on board, but it is hardly in your way to assi&t
me in this matter."

" Yes, yes, it is," replied I, "and I shall recommend Prin-
ciple and Practice to you, the best commanders you can
have, and the safest pilots you can employ. The one pos-
sesses the best compass i|n the world, and the other is unri-
valled at the helm. You may securely trust your ship to
their course, even though she lie laden with gold. Draw
your night-cap over your e-rirs, and sleep in peace, for Prin-
ciple and Practice will serve you well, and if they cannot
ensure you prosperity, your hope is but a leaky vessel, and
not sea- worthy."

** I wish, Mr. Humphrey," said a neighbour of mine,
** that you t^ould recommend my son to some respectable
bouse, for I want sadly to put him apprentice."

" That I will," said I, " and directly too j my best shall
be done to get him a situation nnder the firm of Principle
and Practice, and a more respectable establishment is hit
to be found, so'long as the parties in that firm hold together^
they v^ill be as secure and prosperous as the Bank of Eng-
land ; but if a dissolution of partnership should ever tak«
place, in a little time neither the one nor the other would
be worth a single penny."

" I want a motto," simpered a vain young fellow, who
was about to have a ring engraved for his finger.

" And I will give you one," was my reply, * Principle
and Practice*, you may wear that motto on your finger, and
in your heart too, perhaps with advantage," but if you ne-
glect it, though *^ you wear rings on all the fingers you have,
and bells on all your toes too, it is ten to one if you will
meet with a better. He who adopts this motto may boldly
appear without ornaments in the presence of a King ; while
he who despises it, though adorned with all the trinkets in a
jeweller's shop, is not fit t^^associate with an honest cob-
bler."

" I wish to take in half-a-dozen boarders," said a sharp,
shrewd, over-reaching widow lady, " if I would meet with

IltSTRUCTIVB BEADBR.

any that would be agreeable, and not |ive too much trouble,
and pay regularly ; but I am sadly afraid that it will be
long enough before I shall be able to suit myself.^*

« Take my advice," said I, ** be content with /too board-
era to begin with. Principle and f^raqtice. You cannot do a
better thing than to get them into your bouse, and to keep
them there as long as you can ; for they will pay you bet-
ter, behave more peaceably, and dp you more credit, than
twenty boarders of a different character."

« If I had e proper plan," said a gentleman to his friend,
^ I should be half inclined to build nie a house, and to lay
out a garden on the ground which I haye bought on the
hill yonder." Happening to pass at the time, I laid hold of
him by the '. tton, and advised him in all his plans and
projects to icn*" It Principle and Practice, as they were by
far the mos:. ..o^e architects, whether a man wanted to build
a house for this world or the next.

The poor man and the rich man, the merchant and the
father, the beau, the widow and the gentleman, may or
may not, follow my advice ; but if in adopting any other
plans, they disregard correct principle and upright prac-
ticCf Uiey will prepare for themselves a meal of wormwood
and a bitter draught, a night-cap of thorns, and a bed of
briers ; a lif&of vexation, and a death of sorrow.

■'■ Old Humphrey.

" The wicked is driven away in his wickedness, but the
righteous hath hope in his death — Mark the perfect man,
and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace,"

Solomon.

♦

ON AN EARLT BEMBMBRANCB OF OUR DEPBNDAMCB

UPON HEAVEN.

Amidst all your endeavours after im)>rovement, you
must preserve a constant sense of your dependance upon
the blessing of heaven. It is too common with the young,
even when they resolve to tread the path of honour, to set
out with presunnptuous confiden^in themselves. Trusting
to their own abilities for carrying them successfully through
life, they are careless of applying to God, or of deriving^any
assistance from what they are apt to reckon the gloomy

IM8TRUCTIVI RXADfiK.

discipline cf religion. Alas ! hovir little do they know tbisr
dangers ^/hich await them I Neither human wisdom nor
human . irtue, unsupported by religion, are equal for the
trying situations, which often occur in life. By the shock of
temptation, how frequently have the most virtuous intentt;>na
been overthrown ? Under the pressure of disaster, how of-
ten han the greatest constancy sunk t

Destitute of the favou. of God, you are in no better situ-
atioo, with all your boasted abilities, than orphans left to
wander in a trackless desert, without any guide to conduct
them, or any shelter to cover them from the gathering
storm. Correct then, this ill-founded annoyance. Expect
not that your happiness can be independent of Him who
made you. By faith and repentance apply to the Redeemer
of the WQ^ld. By piety and prayer, seek the protection of
the God of Heaven. BUiir.

THE BOMB-SHELL.

Charles the Twelfth, King of Sweden, whilst beseiged in
Stralsund, was, one day, directing a letter to his secretary,
when a bomb-shell, from the enemy's works, fell upon the
house in which he was, broke through the roof, and burst
close to the apartment. The adjoining floor was shivered
to pieces ; but his own room was uninjured. The report
of the shell, however, which seemed to crush the whole
house to pieces, alarmed the secretary, and his pen fell
from his hand. ^* Whales the matter ?" said the King to
him with a composed countenance ; " Why do you not
continue writing ?" " Most gracious sire," replied the lat-
ter," the bomb-shell !" Well," said the King, «« what has
the bomb^shell to do with the letter 1 go on vvith the wri-
ting."

Self possession is a great attainment, and even in things
of this life, is often of unspeakable value. But how much
more noble is it when dictated and produced by religious
principle ! The Apostle Paul when contemplating the
dangers and sufferings thVough which he had passed, and
the still greater ones that awaited him, could say with a
holy dignity and sublime composure, ** None of these things
move me ;" such a state of raind is highly desirable. It wai

INSTRUCTIVE READER*

inculcated to a certain extent, by hiSbth^n moralists, as con-
ducive to peace and ertjoyinent ; how much more is it in-
cumbent on those in a laud of Bible-light to cultivate and

display it t Weekly VUUor.

V^ ON HUMANITY TO EVERT LIVING CREATURE.

Superiority of rank and station may give ability .to com-
Imunicite happiness, (and seems lo intended) but it can give
no right to inflict unnecessary pain. A wise man would be
unworthy the blessing of a good understanding, if he were
[thence to infer, that he had a right to despise a fool, or put
jhim to any degree of pain. The folly of the fool ought ra-
jtherto excite his compassion, and demands, in reason and
[justice, the wise man's care and attention to one Aiat can-
Inot take care of himself. It has pleaded the Creator of the
Universe, to cover some men with white skin, and others
I with black skins ; but, as there is neither merit nur demerit
tin complexion, the white man (notwithstandiTig the barbar-
ty of custom and prejudice) can have no right on account
of his colour, to enslave and tyrannize over a black mnn,
any more than a tall man, on account of his size, has any
legal right to trample a dwarf under his feet. Now, if
among men, the difference of their powers of mind, of their
I complexion, stature, and the accidents of fortune, do not
! give to any man a right to abuse or insult another man, on
account of these differences, — for the same rec'^n, a man
can have no just or natural right to abuse and tormtint a
beast, merely becuuse it has not the mental power of a
man. For, such as man is, he is but as God made him,
and the very same is true of the heart. Neither can they lay
claim to any intrinsic merit, for being such as they are ; for,
before they were in existence, it was impossible that either
could deserve distinction ; and at the moment of their crea-
tion, their bodily shapes, perfections, and defects, were in-
variably fixed, and their limits appointed, beyond which they
cannot pass. And being such, neither more nor less, than
they were created, there is no more demerit in animals being
animals, than in man being man* f,imi^

..^

INSTHUCTIVB RSASERi

Children we nre atl
or one great Fftther, in whatever clime
His Provide: -8 halh cast the seed of life,
All tonguesy t colours j neither after death
Shall we be ^^orted into languages
And tints,— white black, and tawny, Greek, and Goth,
Nobleman and offspring of hot Africa.
The all -seeming Father, in whonn> we live and move,—
He the indifferent judge of all,-<>regards
Nations, and hues, and dialects alike.
According to their works shall they lie judged
When even-han'^ed justice, in the scale,
Their good and evil weighs. soutbey.

\ I

I would not enter on my list of friends.

Though graced with polished manner and fine sense,

Yet wanting sensibility, the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worml '

An inadvertent step may crush the snail

That crawls at evening in the |>ublic path ;

But he, that has humanity, forewarned,

Wilt tread aside, and let the reptile live.

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight.

And charged perhaps with venom that intrudes,

A visitor unwelcome, into scenes

Sacred to neatness and repose — the alcove,

The chamber, or refectory — may die j

A necessary act incurs no blame.

Ye, however, who love mercy, teach your sons

To love it too. The spring time of our years

Is soon dishonoured and defiled in most.

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand

To check them. But alas ! none sooner shoot,

If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth.

Than cruelty^ most devilish of them ail.

Mercy to him that shews it, is the rule

And righteous limitation of the act,

mSTRUCTITB READEB.

By which Heaven moves in pardoning guilty man ;

And he that shews nonet being ripe in years.

And conscious of the outrage he commits,

Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn. cowp<r.

THE IMPROVIDENT TRAVELLER.

A certain traveller who had a distance to go — one part
of hir road leading through green fields, and the other
through a tangled road of brambles and thorns, made grea
prepartion for the first part of his journey.

He dressed himself in light and gay clothing, and put a
cake in his pocket ; he stuck a nosegay in his bosom, and,
taki.ig a slender cane in his hand, nimbly proceeded on his
way along the beaten path across the green meadows. The
sun shone in the skies, and on went the t "^veller comforta-
bly, pleasantly, and delightfully.

After a while the road became rugged, and by the time
night came on, the traveller was in a pitiable plight. His
provisions were exhausted ; his clothes wet through, and
partly torn fi'om his back by the briers ; his flowers were
faded ; and weary as he was, his slender cane would not
bear his weight; a stream of water was before ^im^and
darkness around him.

<* Alas !" said he, smiting his breast, <* I am hungry, and
have no food ; wet to the skin, and have no dry clothes ;
weary, and no staff to rest on ; I have a str'».m to cross,
and here is no boat ; I am bewildered, and have no guide ;
it is dark, and I have no lantern. Fool that I am ! why did
I not provide for the end of my journey as well as for the
beginning ?

My young friends, time is hastening away ; you are tra-
vellers ! Life is the beginning, death the end of your jour-
ney. If you are making preparation for both, you shall be
happy ; but if otherwise you will resemble the foolish tra-
veller. OWHomphMy.
THOUGHTS ON SLEEPING.

It is astonishing with how little reflection we resign our-
selves to sleep. We speak of death with a feeling of dread,
and yet to its twin brother, sleep,we yield durselves up with
the most thoughtless indifference.

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

Whether we reflect upon its value^ or upon the obliwi^
into which it casts us, sleep should bo considered with the
utmost Attention and seriouitness*^

As to its valuBy a single night of the restlessneips of sick-
ness, or the watchful agony of sorrow, is amply sufficient ti)
give us a lively idea of that. When unbroken health, and
^.^undisturbed serenity of mind render sleep the regular and
^^ unmoved attendant upon our nights, its value can only be
appreciated with due reflection. And to make that reflec-
tion, is a most solemn and indispensable duty. We should
endeavour to imagine, and it is but faintly that we can suc-
ceed in doing so, how miserable in body and disturbed in
mind we should be, were we deprived of the pdwer of
sleep. The reflection will teach us to feel that value for
sleep, and that gratitude for our enjoyment of it, which the
thoughtless of our race can only be made to feel, by the
troublesome contrast of being deprived of it.

When we conHJder the deep and death-like oblivion into
which we are cast by sleeping, we cannot fail to seie that
the act of resigning ourselves to sleep is one which demands
our most serious reflection and most anxious preparation.
When we are about to lie down to sleep, we ought to con-
sider that it may be, that we shall rise up no more in mor-
tal consciousness. The temporary oblivion of sleep, may
be the passage to the silence and corruption of the grave.
For a change so possible — nay, so probable— ^and a change
so awfully important, we ought to prepare ourselves dvery
night ere we lie down to rest. We may wake again, in-
deed, but we may not. The event is not under our own
controil, or within our own powers of calculation. We
ought therefore to be prepared (ot the worst We ought to
lie down in such a frame of m^|<i^ though we were certain
that in resigning ourselves to lll|^li>6thing and stealthy em-
braces of sleep, we were forever "Ijtting up our mortal ex-
istence.

It is not, surely, too much for uS to feel grateful for one
of the greatest blessings we enjoy, and to feel anxious about
one of the most important actions we perform. This grati*
tude, and this anxiety, are all that we have endeavoured to
impress upon the minds of our young readers. oaidttoKmowitdce.

IMITRUCTITE BfADIR.

lidt to XBOWl«d|<.

COMPLAINT OF THI DTIIfO TIAR.

•< I am," said he, " the ton of old father Ttflif, and the
last of a numerous progeny ; for he has had no leas than
several thousandirof us ; but it has ever been his fate to see
one child expire before another was born. It is the opinion
of some, that his own constitution is beginning to break opi
and that when he hos given birth to a hundred or two more
of us, his family will be complete, and then he himself will
be no more."

Here the Old Year called for his account- book, and tamed
over the pages with a sorrowful eye.

He has kept, it appeors, an accurate account of the mo-
ments, minutes, hours, and months, which he has issued,
and subjoined in sojne places memorandums of the uses to
which they have been applied, and of the losses he has sus-
tained. These par^culars it would be tedious to detail $
but we must notice one circumstance ; upon turning to one
page of his accounts the old man was much aflected, and
the tears streamed tlown bin furrowed cheeks as he exam-
ined it. This was the register of the fifiy-two Sundays
which he had issued ; and which, of all the wealth he had
to dispose of, has been, it appears, the most scandalously
wasted. " These,'' said he, ** were my most precious pfts.
Alas ! how lightly they have been esteemed !

" I feel, however," said he, " more pity than indignation
towards these offenders, since they were far greater enemies
to themselves than to me. But there arc a few outrageous
ones, by whom I have been defrauded of so much of my
substance, that it is difficult to think of them with patience,
particularly that not6rious thtef Procrasiinalton, of whom
everj'body has 'heard, and' who is well known to have
wronged my venerable father of much of his propcr*~, —
There are also three noted ruffiann, Sleep, Sioih, and Plea-
suref from v'hom I have suffered much ; besides a certain
busy-body called Dress, who, under the pretence of making
the most of me, and taking great care of me, steals away
more of my gifts than any two of them.

"As for me, all must acknowledge that I have performed

IJliTROPTITi RBADIB.

my ptrt towar4i my friendf and foM. I have fulfilled my
utmoit promiie, and been more bountiful ihan many of my
^f§ll9Q^/l»or§, My twelve fair children have, each in their
tMffn^ aided my exertiona ; and their various tastes and die-
pioiaitipna have all conduced to the general good. Mild F$b'
^uarjft* who sprinkled the naked boughs with delicate buds,
1^, brought her wonted offering of delicate flowers, was not
of naore eaaential service than that rude blustering boy,
•jl|«rc^ who, though violent in his temper, was well-inten-
tioned and useful. Jlpril^ a gentle, tender-hearted giri, wept
ili^r Ilia loss, yet cheered me with many a smile. June came,
drowned with roees, and sparkling in sunbeams, and laid up
a store of costly ornaments for her luxuriant succesiiorSf —
But I cannot stop to enumerate the good qualities and
graces of all my children. You, my poor December^ dark
in your complexion, and c^ld in your temper, greatly re-
semble my first-born, January^ with this difference, that he
was most prone to anticipation, and you to reflection.

** U is very likely that, at least al^er my decease, many
mfiy reflect upon themselves for their misconduct towards
me. To such I would leave it as my dying injunction, not
tp waste time in unavailing regret? all their wishes and re-
pentance will not recall me to life. I would rather earnestly
reopmmend to their regard my youthful successor^whose ap-
pearance is shortly expected. I cannot hope to survive
long enough to introduce him \ but I would fain hope that
he will meet with a favourable reception ; and that, in ad-
dition to the flattering honours which greeted 7»^ birth, and
the fair promises which deceived my hopes, more diligent
ei;ertioil, and more persevering efforts may be e:q)ected.
Let it 1^ remembered that one honest endeavour is worth
t^/ipr promisee. jm,t«,io,.

WHAT IS TIMit

I asked an aged man, a man of cares.
Wrinkled and.curved, and white with hoary Hairs ;
<< Time is the warp of life," he said ; <* Oh tell
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well !**

11IITRU0TITK RIADIR.

I asked ihn aneitnt, vtntrabU Aod^

Saget who wrote, and warrion who bled $

From the cold grave ■ hoHow mumliir fldwed— '

<*Time aowed the aeed we reap in tbia abode!**

1 asked a dj/ing tinner^ ere the tide

Oriife bad left his veins.— «« Time I" he leplied,

** I've lost it ! Ah the treasure f— and he died.

I asked the golden tun and tihtr tph^ret.

Those bright chronometers of days and years {

They ana wered, <* Time is but t metiot g1«f»»** '

And bade us for eternity prepare.

I asked the setMSont, in their annual rowid|

Which beautify or desolate the ground ;

And they replied, (no oracle more wise),

«* 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's hiaheet p^ite }"

I asked a spirit lost, but ah i the ehriel

That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I apeak !

It cried, **A particle ! a speck ! a mite

or endless years, duration infinite !" ■■ *

Ot iMng8 inanimate, my diall

Consulted, and it made me this reply—

'< Time is the season fair of living well.

The path of glory, or the path of hell."

I asked my Bible, and methinks it said^

*< Time is the present hour, the past is fled ;

Live ! live to-day I to-morrow never yel

On any human being rose or set."

I asked old Father Time himself at last,

But in a moment he flew quickly past !—

His chariot was a cloud ; the viewless wind,

His noiseless steeds, which left no trace bebiod.

I asked the mighty •Angel, who shall atand» .

One foot on sea, and one on solid land |

'< ByHeaven !" be cried, *< I swear the loyitefy'ae'ef ;

Time umm," he cried, « but Time shall be no nore P

IR'

SECTION II.

NATURAL HISTORY.

THI ITODT or If ATU1|I RICOMMtriDID TO tHC TOtJRO.

Lo I on our varied page creation amitea
In her immingling charms; the wavea and windsi
The fruits and fluwera, and all that lives and movei^
Or beautifies the world, oontbine to bring
ExhauBlleas themes for wonder and for praise.

You have all, my young friends, in ynnr minds, naturally,
% fpirit of inquiry ftL desire for knowledge — this spirit is
imparted to you by your Creator. Now, as this desire will
be directed toward some point or other, it is of uns^ieak&ble
importance that it should be directed aright. Among the
various branches of knowledge which present themselves to
the enquiring mind, there is no one more inlei'esting in itt»
form, or gratifying in its results, than J\rat.ural History.-^
This subject is one of universal interest,ond has a very high
claim upon your attention. The study of the Creator^s
works enlarges our ideas of his I'ower, Wisdom, and Good-
ness ; and reminds us also of our relation lo Him <* ir whom
we live and move and have our being." To accustom
yourselves to recognize the bond of God in all the appear-
ances of Nature, to observe the fitness of all the various
parts to each other, and the employment of means for the
attainment oferMb, is an exercise most worthy of the high
faculties your Maker has bpstowed upon you, and cannot
fail to promote your intellectual and moral improvement. —
To whatever quarter you turn your attention, you will find
ample materials for this study. " In every blade that trem-
bles in the breezci" in every flower, in every glittering in*

IRITRUOTITB RIADBB.

•eot, in every living thing (hat movei in the wstere, or upon
(he earth, are you presented with diaplays of the wonderful
worki of God. And few indeed can trace with care ** the
operations of his hand,'* and not feel emotions like those of
a good man of whom you read in the BiblOy when he exf
claimed— •

Oh Jehovah, how manifold are thy works I
In wisdom hast thou made them alU

mil

The study of Nature, it has been said, is of great import-
ance to you, becauDO of its beneficial effects Mpon ^out
minds. It will strengthen their powers — it will accuMoii^
tbem to sober and solid thought— it will restrain them from
running loose under the guidance of unbridled imagination.

But besides these advantages, (his study recommends it-
self to the young, because o( the positive pleasure which it
imparts. A person who is regordless and ihoughtlesa of
passing scenes, deprives himself of one of the highest grati*
iications of which 'iis nature is capable. Be eaieful then
to have your eyes always open — pay attention to whatever
you see. Hundreds deprive themselves not only of mueh
pleasure, but of much benefit, liecause though having eyee^
they see not. One person in pasning along through n part
of the country will feel no interest, and see nothing worthy
of attention ; while another, going the very same "oad, will
be quite delighted with the wonders he belioldc,, nud the
multitude of interesting objects passing under his review. —
And what is the cause of this? The one man, though see-
ing, has not learned to observe— the other /ios* To eee
aright and toell then, is an important art —H is the result of
n habit which you should verv earnestly endeavour early to
form. To encourage you, recollect that the very weeds that
grow by the road-side are full of interest to those who know
about them, and will take pains to examine how they are
formed, and what purposes they are meant to serve. Look
then at the gnais dancinf in the sun-beam — look at the
gauze-winged flies— and look at the gilded beetles. Ex-
amine the caterpillers spinning their webs, or shrouding
themselves in a leafy covering. The birds of the air con-

4ei

L tnifiKi^eliivlB «ilADiiii.

•iradUNg th6}r ftisMi vHth a «kill you can never di»|filay— the
ouafiring anake that girdes along bo nimbly and conceals Kd
l^kering t)ody in the graas^the fish that 6port in the etreafii
whh so much agility, and so often amuse and detain yon
when on year way to school— -these, -and all such things,
are fitted to call up trains of reflection, and please the con-
templative mind. Observe too how nicely, how beautifully
the hair, feathers, or scales, the teeth or the clawe of the
different animals are fitted to their residences and (heir
m<ides of life, and you will then be led to trace the opera-
tions of that great God, who is the contriver of the great plan
of the universe. For to gratify curiosity only, in the study
of the creatures, is to lose sight of their end and relation to
m6ii. 1 would have yon, in short, my yoqng friends, see
Grod in every thing; and by forming in your minds the ha-
bit <of referring all you see to him, you will find on every
haiid stores of knowledge, which, laid up in the memory and
understandingfWill ripen and augment with your constantly
sotoandirtg minds, into Practical Wisdom. ^

In the various lessons which follow respecting the world
ti9A its productions, you will receive assistance in the study
of Mature, which, if duly improved, will contribute to your
pletjiure and your future usefulness. coaipite4..

Though man, as God's own miniature, reveal

Tile grace of beauty, and the glow of soul.

And Deity be chartered on his brow !

The Brutes, and plumy pilgrims of the air,

The Insect tribe, and ail the Scaly troop

That wing their liquid way — proclaim a God !

Behold 1 the lion bounding from his den

With red and rolling eye !— -or hear the bear

While grimly glancing o'er the ice-clad waste^

Xoading the wind with hie tremendous hoWl !

Or aee leviathan uproot the deep.

And lash the ocean into st(fm ! — or mark

The kingly eagle pierce the cope of heaven,

And shiver the contending clouds { Great Godr—

These give to mortal eye a glimpse of Thee ! iion«(OMrr.

IN8tlltt70tlT« tltt4t>iMlk

tHI THRU XINGDOaS Of MA.fVtli.

Natufiil objects have been generally ammged for the pur-
pose of clas8i6cation,under three grand divisions of inifMro^
vegetabhSf and animals. Minerals are natural bodies des-
titate of organization and life ; vegetables or plants sxe na-
tural bodies endowed with organization and life,but destitute
of voluntary motion and sensation ; and animals are natu-
ral bodies which possess organization, life, sensation, aad
voluntary motion.

1. Minerals, — If we penetrate beneath the surface of the
earth, we discover there a remarkable arrangement. In-
stead of a general uniform appearance, as we see on the
surface,we pass through different substances^ as clay, gravel,
sand, &c., deposited in beds or strata of various thicknesses,
from a few inches to a great many feet. These lie, for the
moat part, nearly horizontal ; but in some instances, parti-
cularly in mountainous countries, they take different de-
grees of inclination ; and in places where the country con-
sisto of gentle sloping hills and vales, the bedsliave a waving
or bending form.

Those strata, as deep as the curiosities or necessities of
mankind have induced them to explore, satisfactorily de-
monstrate the wisdom which has been displayed in the
arrangement of materials requisite folr the use of men and
animals. The first layer. is frequently a rich black mould,
fjrmed almost wholly of decomposed animal and vegetable
remains : this yeilds sustenance to the vegetable productions,
and thereby becomes the actual, though not the immediate
support of the whole mineral creation. In all countries
which, like Canada, have been covered with forests for-
many ages, this mould, owing to the constant addition it re-
reives of vegetable matter, is always much thicker than in
other circumstances. Beneath this first layer is often found
a tjiick bed of clay, that furnishes to man a substance of
which to make bricks, tiles, various kinds of pottery, and in-
numerable other articles for the comfort of social life. Next
are deposited vast beds of grav.el, that are of use in numer-
ous points of view. Underneath this are continually- varying

INITRVCTIYB READIR*

■IratA of sandstone, limestone, &c. which not only serve for
the constructions of buildings, and other important pur-
poses, but also frequently surround mines which contain the
Taluable metals.

The most simple and natural division of minerals is into
four classes, — stones, salts, combustibles, and metals. Stones
are jsubdivided into earthy and saline; and metals into
malleable and briltle,

2. Vegetables, — The principal parts of plants are the root ',
the herb, tree, or plant itself; and the flower and fruit.

The roots of planta^d trees, having nothing pleasing to
the eye, are, for the most part, hidden from the view ; they
are nevertheless of great importance in the vegetable econo-
my ; they are_ furnished with a set of vessels by means of
which they dr,a;iv moisture from the earth, and fix the plant
the spot it is designed to occupy. They are of various kinds
and have different periotls of duration, and they are oAen
observed to suit themselves in an extraordinary manner, to
local inconveniences, — changing their direction, for instance,
when they meet a stone ; turning aside from barren into fer-
tile ground ; and when stationed on the rocky edge of a
deep ditch, creeping down onQ side and ascending the other,
so as to place themselves in richer soil.

The plnnt itself consists of various parts curiously ar-
ranged and adapted for performing all the functions of vege-
table life. First of all is the bark, covered externally with
the cuticle. The cuticle is furnished in many parts with
pores — by which a rommunication is kept up between the
internal structure and the atmosphere. To the cuticle suc-
ceeds the cellular integument^ often of a green color, and
in the trunks of ordinary trees we next find the cortical lay-
ers and the liber which forms the innermost boundary of
the bark. Lastly, the wood which sometimes contains
within it the pith, respecting the use of which philosophers
are not agreed. The wood itsetf is divided into two parts,
— the true wood, and the alburnum ; the latter is the new
or sap wood, as it is commonly called, and is softer and of
a paler 'Color. The annual depositions of woody matter
produce these circles visible in almost all wooda,and furnish

iMStRUCTiVS READER.

4,6

meant by which the ages of timber may be calculated, as
well as contribute greatly to the beauty of the woody sur-
(ace. The aap vessels uscend from the points of the roots,
through the superficial albuniiim, and enter the leaves in a
central arrangement round the pith. The fluid destined to
nourish a plant being absorbed in the root, becomes sap,
and is carried up by thetse vessels into the leaves, where it
undergoes a wonderful change, and is brought back through
another set of vessels, down the leaf stalks into the liber,
where it is supposed to deposite the principal secretion of
of the tree. Thus to the bark of the oak, hemlock, &c. a
tanning principal is communicated ; — to the Peruvian bark,
what has been found so beneficial in fevers ; — to the cinna^
mon, its grateful aromatic taste ; — and to the sandal wood
its never-dying fragrance.

The parts of frucii/tcation,BTe the calyXtCorrolh, stamens^
pistilSfSeed'Vessel, seeds and receptacle. The calyx or flower*
cup, is the green part wiiiclnssi^^ated immediately beneatff)
the blossom ; the corro//a oMaiossom, is thalcolored part of
every flower, on which itn beauty chiefly depends. The
<tam«n« surround the pistils, and consist each 6f b j^lameni ;
or thread, and an anther or summit ; which last, when ripe,
contains a fine powder called pollen. At the foot of the
pistil is situated the germen ; this, when grown to maturity,
is that part which contains the seedi; this occurs in a great
variety of forms ; in one it is a nut as the butternut ; in another
a berry as the gooseberry; in a third the seed is enclosed in
a sort of box as the poppy in; a fourth in &pod as in the
pea ; or lastly in a cone as in the pine.

3. Jinimala — The objects comprehended within the animal
kingdom are divided into six cjatf^ses,— Mammalia; Birds;
Amphibia, or Amphibious Animals, including all Beptiles ;
Fist^es; Insects; and Worms.

The class Mammalia consists of such animals as produce
living offspring, and nourish their young ones with nnilk
supplied from their bodies; and it includes quadrupeds,
bats, seals, and whales. The class Birds, irAcludes all
such animals as have their bodies clad with feathers.
Under the class Amphibia^ are arranged such animals as

IJI8TRUCTIVB RBADIRi

have a cold, and generally a naked body. They bieath>f
chiefly by lungs but have the power ol' suspend: ng breathfaig
for a long time ; they arp extremely tenacious of life, and
tcan repair certain parts o^ their bodies which have been lost j
they are able to endure hun^^ar, sometimes e^'en for montbt
without Injury. Fishet constitute the fourth c'ass of ani-
mals; they are all inhabitants of the water, in which they
move by certain organs called ^n«; they breathe by gillt*
Insects are so called from the appearance of their bodieSf
seeming intersected, or cut into two pans. They have
commonly six or more legs, besides wings, and antenna or
horns, which are instruments of touch ; and they nearly all
go through certain great changes at different periods of their
existence. The sixth class of animals consist of Worms,
which are slow of motion, and have soft and fleshy bodies.
These anim'ls are principally distinguitfihed from those of
the other classes by hdv'ing feelers by which they examine
their way as ihey advance. ^^^

Such are the three kingdoms^f nature, and their princi-
pal divisions according to the system of Linnsus, a distin-
guished naturalist of Sweden who flourished about the middle
of the eighteenth century. The^e kingdoms, though distinct,
are naturally connected ; and it is not always easy to say of
a natural object to which of them it belongs. The mineral
kingdom indeed can never be confounded with the other two ;
for its objects are masses of mere dead unorganized matter,
growing indeed by the addition of extraneous substances,
but not fed by nourishment taken into living structures, as if
the case with vegetables and animals. Mcekiuoeh'ixicmcBt«yRta«iiit.

Oir.THB SARTH, AS

ADAPTED TO THB NATURE OF MAN.

If we consider the earth as alloted for our habitation, we
shall find that much has been given us to enjoy, and much
has been left us to improve ; that we have ample ground for
gratitude, and no less for industry. In those great outlines
of nature, to which art cannot reach, and where our greater
efforts must have been ineffectual, God himself has fimshed
these with amazing grandeur and beauty. Ou> beneficent

tlfSTRUCTIVB RSADB1I.

Father has considered these parts of nature peculiarly his
own ; as parts which no creature could have skill or strength
to amend, and therefore made them incapable of alteration,
or of more perfect regularity.

The heavens and the firmament show the wisdom and the
glory of the Workman. Astronomers, who are best skilled
in the symmetry of systems, can find nothing there that they
can ^Uer for the better. God made these perfect, because,
no interior being can correct their defects. When, there-
fore, we survey nature on this side, nothing can be more
splendid, more correct, or more amazing. We there be-
hold a Deity residing in the midst of a universe, infinitely
extended every way, animating all, and cheering immensity
with his presence. We behold an immense and shapeless
mass of matter, formed into worlds by his power, and dis-
persed at intervals, to which even the imagination cannot
travel. In this great theatre of his glory, a thousand suns
like our own animate their respective systems, appearing
and vanishing at divine command. We behold our own
bright luminary, fixed in the centre of its syntem, wheeling
its planets i.i times proportioned to Uieir distances, and at
once dispensing light, heat, and action. The earth also is
seen with its twofold motion, producing by the one the
change of seasons, and by the other the grateful vicissitudes
of day and night. With what silent magnificence is all this
performed! with what seeming easel The works of arts
are exerted with uninterrupted force, and their noisy pro-
gress discovers the obstructions they receive ; but the earth,
with a silent, steady rotation, successively presents every
part of its bosom to the sun, at once imbibing nourishment
and light from that parent of vegetation and fertility. But
not only are provisions of heat and light thus supplied, but
its whole surface is covered with a transparent atmosphere,
that turns with its motion, and guards it from external in-
jury. The rays of the sun are thus broken into a genial
warmth ; and while the surface is assisted, a genial heat is
produced in the. bowels of the earth, which contributes to
cover it witii verdure. Water also is supplied in healthful
abundancei to aupport life and assist vegetation. Mountatna

tNStRUCTlVS READEtl.

arise to diversify the prospect, and give a current to the
stream. Seas extend from one continent to the oihor* r^;-
plenished with animels, that may be turned to hum&a tup*
port ; and also serving to enrich the eart!ii vvitli a sui^T'Ienej
of vapour. Breezes fly along the surface of the fielda, to
promote h.^alth and vegetation. The coolness of the eve-
ning invites to rest, and tho freuhness ul'iha morning renews
for T&hour. Such are the delights of the habitation 8(?signed
to man. Without any one of these he must have been
wrefchod, and none of these could his own industry have
supplied. But while mmy of his wants are thus kin-Jily
furnished on iho one hand, there are numberless inconveni-
ences to excite his iii uustry or* the other. This habitation,
though provided w!«h all the conveniences of air, pnsturage,
and water, is hut & desert place without human cultivation.
The lowest animal finds more conveniences in the wilds of
nature, than he who boasts himself their lord. Tiir) earth
itself, where human art has not pervaded, puts on a frightful
gloomy appearance. The forests are dark and tangled: the
meadows overgrown with rank weeds ; and the brooks stray
without a determined channel. To the savage, uncontriv-
ing man, the earth is an abode of desolation, where hit
shelter is insufficient and his food precarious. A world thus
furnished with advantages on one side, and inconvenien-
cies on the other, is the proper abode of reason, is the fittest
to exercise the industry of a free and thinking creature.
Those evils, which art can remedy, and foresight guard
against, are a proper call for the exertion of his faculties.
God beholds with pleasure, that being which he has made,
converting the wilderne^^s of his natural situation into a
theatre of triumph ; bringing all the tribes of nature into sub-
jection to his will ; and producing that order and uniformity
upon earth, of which his own heavenly fabric is so bright
an example. ooid.«itb.

THB OCEAN*

T The ocean surrounds the earth on all sides, and pene-
trates into the interior parts ofdiflerent countries, sometimes
by large openings, and frequently by small straits. Could

WBTRUOTIVI RiADBR.

isr

th« eye take in this immenie sheet of waters at one view,
it would appear the most august object under the whole
heavens. It occupies a space on the surface of the glokie
^<t least three times greater than that which is occupied by
ihe land; comprehending an extent of 148 millions of
square miles.

The chief properties of the ocean to which your attention
Ik t(^be turned in the rest of this lesson, are its depth, the
quantity of water it contains, its motions, temperature, and
saltness. With respect to \ti depth, no certain concIusionR
have yet been formed. It has never been actually sounded
to a greater depth than a mile and 66 feet. Along the coast
its depth^ has always been found proportioned to the height
of the shore; where the coast is high and mountainous, the
sea that washes it is deep ; but where the coast is low, the
water is shallow. The numerous islands scattered every-
where through the ocean, demonstrate that the bottom of
the water, so far from uniformly sinking, sometimes rise^
into lofty mountains. It is highly probable that its depth is
somewhat in proportion to the elevation of the land ; and if
80, its greatest depth will not exceed four or five miles ; for
there is no mountain that rises higher above the level of the
sea.

The ocean has three kinds of motions. The first is that
undulation produced by the wind, and is entirely confined
to its surface. The second motion is that continual tenden-
cy which the whole water in the sea has towards the west,
which is greater near the equator than towards the poles.
It begins on the -west side of America, where it is mode- .
rate ; but as the waters advance westward their motion is
accelerated ; and after having traversed the globe, they i^-
turn, and strike with great violence on the eastern shore of
America. Being stopped by that continent, they rush witU
impetuosity into the Gulf of Mexico, thence they proceed
along the coast of North America, till they come to the
south side of the great bank of Newfoundland, when they
turn off and run down through the Western Isles. This
motion is most probably owing to the diurnal revolution of
the earth on its axis, which is in a direction contrary to the
motion of the sea. The third motion of the sea is the tide.

INITRUCTIVI RIADIK*

which 18 a regular ■well of the ocean every 12| hours. Thlf
motion is now ascertained to be owing to the attractive in-
fluence of the moon, and also partly to that of the sun. —
There is always a flux and reflux at the Same time In two
parts of the globe, and these are opposite io'each other. So
that, when our Antipodes have high-water, we have the
same. When the attractive po Wei's of the sun and moon
act in the same, or in opposite directions, which hap||(j|)pi at
new And full moon, the highest or spring-tides occurf but
when the lines of their attraction are at right-angles to each
other, which happens at the quarters, the lowest ot neap'
tides are occasioned. -^

As water is a worse conductor of hc^t than land, that is,
absorbs and^ives out heat more slowly, the temperature of
the sea is subject to fewer and less extensive variations than
the land. It is never so cold in winter, nor so hot in sum-
mer ; for, when the surface of the water is cooled in winter,
it becomes specifically heavier than the lower stratum, and
sinks ; and when it is more heated in summer, it is carried
06" by evaporation, and in this way the uniformity of tem-
perature is preserved.

The saltness of the sea is one of its most distinctive feat-
ures. It contains a great quantity of saline substances, to
which it owes its peculiar taste. Besides common r^>dt, or
muriate of soda, sea^water is impiregnated with muriate of
magnesia, sulphate of magnesia, and sulphate of lime. It
is easier to perceive the great advantages resulting from this
saltness than to discover its origin. Without this saltness,
and without the agitation in which they are continually
kept, the waters of the sea would become tainted, and
would be infinitely less adapted for the motion of vessels ;
and probably it is to this also that the inhabitants of the
ocean owe their existence. The ocean is replenished with
innumerable inhabitants, all fitted for the element in which
tiiey reside ; and all, so far as we are capable of judging,
enjoying a happiness suited to their natures. This mighty
expanse of water is the grand reser'iir of nature, and the
source of evaporation which enriches the earth with fertili-
ty and verdure. Every cloud which floats in the atmo-
sphere, and every fountain) and rivulet, and flowing ttream,

tiff TftVCTlTB ABAfiBA.

are indebted to this inexhaustible louree for those watery
treasures which they distribute through every region of the
land.

Such is the ocean— a most stupendous scene of Omnipo-
tence, which forms the most mag;nificent feature of tlie globe
we inhabit. Whether we consider its immeasureable extent,
its mighty ipovements, or the innumerable beings which
glide oirough its rolling- waves — we cannot but be struck
with astonishment at the grandeur of that Almighty Being
who holds its waters *< in the hollow of his hand," and also
has said to its foaming surges, ** Hitherto shalt thou come,
and no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed."
« Will ^e not tremble at my presence t saith the b')rd !
which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea by a
perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it; and though the
waves thereof toss tbemaelvesi yet they cannot prevail ;
though they roar yet they cannqt pass over it." — Jer. v. 22.

The wonder referred to in this passage will appear the
greater when it is considered that the water is not only
lighter thanthe earth, and would naturally rise above it,
but the water of the sea generally rises up into that general
round which characterises our globe. And though the
Creator has bounded it in some places by vast rocks, which
lid their heads above its tremendous billows, yet in most
places it is pent up by feeble sand. When the waves roll
furiously in a storm, and rise so high above the level joC the
shore as to menace the overflow of the whole neighbour-
hood, as soon as they reach their sandy limits, they bow
their foaming heads and fall back into their appointed place.

Compiledt
ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean — roll !

Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control

Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain

A shadow of man's ravage, save his own.
When for a moment, like a drop of rain.

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan,

Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.

IMtTUVCTITI BIADI1I,

Hki Slept ir« ndt upon thy palhi— thy fieidi
Are not a ipoU tat him,— thou dost ariie

iVnd shake him from thee; the vile strength he wielJe
For earth** destniotion, thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies.

And send*St him, shiTering, in thy playful sprsy,
And howling to his gods, where haply lies

His petty hope in some near port or bay, ^

And dashest him again to oarth ; there let him lay.

The armaments which thunder-strike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,

And monarchs tremble in their capitals, —
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make

Their clay creator the vain title take
or lord of thee, and arbiter of war ;

These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake.
They melt into thy yeet of waves, which mar
Alike the Annada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.

Thy shores are empires change(| in all save thee-

Assyria, Greece, Borne, Carthage, where are they ?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free.
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay
lias dried up realms to deserts i^not so thou.

Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play-
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow —
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time.
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm,

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime —

The image of Eternity— the throne
Of the Invisible ; even from out fhy slime

The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone

Obeys thee ; thou |oest forth^, dread, fathomless, alone.

IRiTRVOTllTB RIADIR*

And I have oved thee. Ocean ! and my joy
Of youthful sport was on thy breast to be

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward j irom a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers — they to roe

Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror — Hwas a pleasing fear^

For I was, as it were, a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane — ^as I do here.

Brroa.

ON PLAirrs.

In a former lesson on the three kingdoms ofnatureyZ gene-
ral account was given of the structure o(Plant5 ; and as they
are objects which should be interesting to us all, a few
more particulars regarding them require our attention. A
careful examination of their conformation and of their
functions as organized living beings, is well fitted to expand
and elevate the mind, and raise its contemplations in won-
der and gratitude to their Greator,who is likewise the ^'former
of our bodies and the father of our spirits."

Roots, — ^Plants, like animals, feed upon the food de'^igned
and furnished by Divine Providence for their nourishment ;
and with respect to plants, as has been proved by experi-
ment, when they have digested the food taken up from the
soil, they reject similarly to animals the portion thereof
which is not suited to their wants — discharging a part r f
this refuse into the air around them, in the form of gaa<nnd
vapor, and another part into the earth in which they grotv,
in the form of slime. There is one obvious and very remark-
able difference with respect to the feeding of plants and ani-
mals which must be taken into account in all inquiries on
the subject; namely, the circumstance that animals can
travel about in search of (bod, and when it becomes
scanty in one place they can go and seek it in another.
Not 80 the plant, which is rooted in a particular spot, and
cannot move whatever be the state of the supply of f<M)d —
a supply which may fail, and does fail in numerous instan-
ces. But this is not all, for according to the discovery already

INStnOCTltyi READER.

mentioned, the toots of the plants, by the tips of which it
feeds, must, from its stationary position, remain amidst its
own rejections, which must of course diminish its means of
nourishment. Now the means which are provided for
plants to obviate this circumstance, furnish some very inter-
esting facts and inferences.

One of these means may be observe d in what are termed
creeping plants, such as the strawberry and the sweet violet.
As soon as a root of any such plant is properly fixed in the
ground, it bsgins to feed on the plant-food in the soil, and at
the same time to fill the soil with its refuse, and thus both
exhausts the food and renders it less nourishing. As soon
as the plant begins to feel this, the means fur obviating the
disadvantage come into operation. The root itself cannot
remove of its own accord, but shoots immediately spring and
go off in all directions around the root in quest of fresh soil,
not exhausted by the original root. Accordingly the older
the plants are, or the longer they have stood in the same
spot, the greater number of runners they will send off. And
it is worthy of notice that almost all those perennial plants
which cannot escape by runners, have a peculiar construc-
tion to enable them to scatter their ripe seeds to some dis-
tance fiom the parent stem.

Again, in other plants, such as the several sorts of trees,
with respect to which self-removal is impossible, there is
a provision of the same kind made by sending up from the
roots suckers, that may push their individual roots beyond
the Exhausted soil. Cultivators have long been well aware
of these facts although not of all the causes j and are gene-
rally aware of the importance of supplying round the roots
sufficient manure or fresh soil to prevent the trees and
bushes sending off suckers. All plants do not exhaust the
soil equally soon, and while some exhaust it for themselves
they leave behind them more plant-food for other kinds.
All slow-growing tiees exhaust the soil also slowly because
their roots proceed annual!" over a very limited space,
while the quantities of leaves they shed every fall decay and
form a rich^top-dressing of the best description . Such trees
therefore rarely send up suckers. In short, it is owing to

IKfTAUCTlVI RIADM.

the principle just explained, that many plantf, luch ai the
rose and raspberry,require to be removed every three or four
years.

Leaves, — Leaves which consist of fibres arranged in a
kind of network, not only contribute to the beauty of plantci,
but perform functions of essential importance to them.
They are, as is well known, of various snapes,and of differ-
ent sizes. Some are so small as to be distinctly seen only
through a microscope, and others, those of the Talipot
palm, for instance, so large as to measure above 30 feet in
circumference. They also fall at different times, and are
differently denominated according to the period of their fall,
being caducous, deciduous, or perennial, according as they
fall in summer, in autumn, in spring, or only in the course
of years. Their use in the vegetable economy is now well
understood, it being distinctly ascertained that they serve as
lungs to the plant. The sap being carried into them by one
set of vessels, is there spread out and exposed to the action
of air and light, and exhales its superabundant moisture, and
having undergone certain important changes (propably
similar to those undergone by the blood in the lungs), is
received into another set of vessels to be conducted down-
wards and distributed in the cortical cells, depositing there
the various secretions, requsite for the nourishment, health
and preservation of the stem and root.

Leaves perspire and absorb a considerable quantity of
moisture, in some cases sensibly, but in general insensibly.
A branch, which after being gathered, has had its wound
stopt with wax, will speedily wither in a dry atmosphere $
but it may be made to recover by removing it to a damp
situation. Hence in moist weather the difficulty of making
hay ; and every one has observed the effects of a hot day in
causing plants to droop, and of a moist one in causing them
to flourish. The effect oUight upon leaves is also worthy of
notice. It is understood to be the cause of their green colour.
Light, it is singular al80,whilst it benefits the upper^ injures
the under aide of leaves ; and none can have attended ta
fruit trees without remarking, that they invariably turn, not
only their leaves, but their branches towards the light, If

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

leaves are disturbed they will turn again to their former
position, and quicker, too, in proportion to the intensity of
the light. Not only various flowers may be observed fol-
lowing the course of the sun, but a field of clover in the
came way proves the influence of light upon it»

McCvilotb'i CelIeeti«M
THE FALL OF THE LEAF.

See the leaves around U8 falling,
Dry and withered to the ground ;

Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
In a sad and solemn sound :

" Sons of Adam ! (once in Eden,

Blighted when like us ye fell).
Hear the lecture we are reading :

'Tis, alas ! the truth we tell.

Virgins ! much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red ;
, View us, late in beauty blooming,

Numbered now among the dead.

Grip* )g misers ! nightly waking,

bee the end of all your care ;
Fled on wings of our own making.

We have left our owners bare.

Sons of honour ! fed on praises.
Fluttering high in fancied worth :

Lo 1 the fickle air that raises.
Brings us down to parent earth.

Youths ! though yet no losses grieve you.
Gay in health and manly grace,

Let not cloudless skies deceive you ;
Summer gives to Autumn place.

Venerable sires ! grown hoary.
Hither turn the observing eye ;

iiVi^tnvcTiVE reader;

l^hltik amidst ^-our falling gWy,
Autuoaa tellt a Winter nigh.

Yeariy in our course retaming,

Messeagers or shortest stay ;
Thus we preach the troth coDcerfiing,

*< Heaven and Earth must pass away."

On the tree of Life Eternal,
Man, let all thy hopes be staid \

Which alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a leaf that cannot fade.

iorn«.

OH THE ADAPTION OF PLANTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE

COUNTRIES.

'< A hundred thousand species of plants upon the surface
af the earth !" you exclaim. Yes, and what is more sur-
prising still, every one of these species has its native country
— some particular region, a peculiar spot, on the surface of
the globe, to which in its construction and formation, it is
peculiarly adapted, Some are found to spring up into lux^
uriance beneath the scorching rays of a tropical sun — some
are constituted to vegetate breath the snow, and to with-
stand the severity of a polar winter — some are made to
deck the valley with their variegated beauties, and some are
formed <* to blush unseen, and give their sweetness to the
desert air/' amidst Alpine solitudes ; but there is not one of
these plants which has not its particular place assigned o
it. It would be equally vain to attempt to make some of
these vegetable forms change their places (without a corret-
ponding change of temperature) with impunity, as it would
be to make the experiment of removing the finny inhabi-
tants of the ocean, from their native element, in order to
make them harmonize and live in comfort among the
feathery tenants of the grove. The wisdom and the good-
ness of the Deity are indeed no less manifiested in the geo-
graphical distribmion, than in the curious process observed
m the vegetation, the wonderfuktructure, and other striking

IKSTRteriVt BtAfilRt

peculiarities of plants. We have not room tp multiply in-
stances. But where, it may be asked, could the dense
woods, which constitute the Brazilian forest, be more appro-
priately situated ? Where could the delightful vistas, and
pleasant walks, and refreshing arbours of the niany-trunked
Banian tree be better placed ? Where could that numerous
host of natural umhrellaSy the family of the palms, ivhich
overshadow, with their luxuriant and projecting foliage,
almost every island, rock, and sand-bank, between the
tropics, display their cooling shades with better effect t
Whcrei in short, could that wonderful exuberance of the
earthVbeauty, the bread-fruit tree, by which, in the words
of Captain Cook, '* If a man plant but ten trees in his
whole life time, (and that he may do in an hour,) he will
as completely fqlfil his duty to his own, and to future gene-
rations, as the njitives ( f our temperate climate, can do by
ploughing in the winter's cold, and reaping in the summer's
heat, as often as these seasons return," where, 1 say, can
this exuberance be more beneficially manifested than in
those regions, where *' the same glo'ving beams of the sun
that raises the plant into a shrub, and »he shrub into a tree,"
render ihe gloom of the forest, and the intervening screen of
the overhanging foliage so desirable — where the least exer-
tion becomes oppressive, and coolness and ease may be said
to constitute the principal wants of the inhabitants? And
where, it may be further inquired, could those immense
fields upon which are raised the various crops of grain, be
better made to expand their extensive surface, and lay open
their treasures to the influence of the sun,than in those tem-
perate regions of the globe, where instead of being hurtful,
a moderate degree of I'jibour is conducive to health, and the
agricultural labourer goes forth to his work in the morning,
and returns in the evening, rather invigorated than ex-
hausted by the ordinary occupations oi ihe day ? If we
extend our views much farther to the north, we may in vain
look, for the spontaneous luxuriance of the torrid Zone, or
the golden- Coloured fields of the intervening climates, but
there we shall find, what is at once more suitable to th«
climate and the wants of its inhabitants, a plentiful supply

INSTRUCTIVE RSAlilBft.

of the Bein-Deer lichen, which being furmed to vegetate
beneath the snow, is there found out, in requsite abundance,
by that useful creature, vtrhose name it be^irs, and which is
of itself a treasure to the inhabitants of thote regions. The
esculent properties of Iceland moss are now beginning to be
better understood ; and, on what part of the habitable world
could this singularly nutricious vegetable have been more
judiciously and mercifully made to abound, than in that
island of wonderful contrasts, where the variable climate is
often so unfavorable to vegetation of a larger growth, and
the hopes of the husbandmen are so repeatedly disappointed
by unwelcome visitants in the form of icy particles floating
in the air ? The Pilcher-plant of the eastern, and the Milk
or Cow-tree of the western world, may each of them be
reckoned among the most wonderful omtrivances in the
vegetable kingdom, and be justly regarded as evidences
of the fplsdom and goodness of that Being, who knows so
well ho^ to proportion the acis of his bounty to the neces^
sities and wants of his creatures. The singular appen-
dages ;yhiGh form the extremities of the Pitcher-plant are
so many urns, Containing a clear, wholesome, and well-tasted
water. In tl..i morning the lid is closed, but it opei^^: during
the day, when a portion of the water evaporates: this,
however, is replenished in the night ; and (sach morning the
vessel is full, and the lid shut. As the plant grows in sul-
try climates, and is found in the island of Jav v, in the most
stony and arid situations, how welcome and exhilirating
must the sight of j*t often be to the weary traveller ; and,
(iom the mafks of teeth upon the vessel, it has been said,
that ^^ it is evkient that beasts often supply their wants at
the tame plenteous source.^' yCThe Milk or Cow-tree^ bo
exiled on a^xount of the resemblance its singula; juice
bears to the n^lk of animals, in place of which Mr. Hum-
bolt ba« seen t used for many domestic purposes, is thuls
deLcribedl by that enterprising traveller I — " I confess that
among the great number of curiaut phenomena whi.a I
have observed in the course of my travels, tlidre are few
which have made a stronger impression on my mind than
the CoW'tru, On the barren declivities of a rock grows a

I I-

. r

v>. '

INSTRUCTIVE RCADCR.

tree whose leaves are dry and coriaceous {that it skinny ;)
its thick woody roots scarcely enter the rock i for several
months in the mr rain scarcely waters its fan-shaped
leaves ; the braliraes appear dry and dead ', but when an
incision is made in the trunks, a sweet and nutricious milk
flows from it. It is at the rising of the sun that the vegeta^
b^e liquid runs most abundantly, — then the natives and ne-
groes are seen to come from all parts, provided with vessels
.J receive the milk, which becomes yellow, and thickens at
the surface. Some empty their vessels under the same
tree ; others carry them home to their children. It is like
iSi shepherd distributing to his family the milk of his flock.
If those who possess these precious trees near their habita-
tion, drink with so much pleasure their beneficent juice,
with what deljghl will the traveller, who penetrates these
mountains, appease with it his hunger and his thirst 1 They
are accordingly often seen along the roads, full aCliietsions
made by the traveller, ** who seeks them with aindbty." —
The few instances here recorded, may serve as general spe-
cimens of the wise ordination, universally to be observed, if
duly attended to, in the geographical arrangement and dis-
tribution of vegetables. Popular Philowphy.

man, wi

DSSCRIPTIOIf OF THE BANIAN TREE.

The Bania^ Tree is noticed in such a manner in the pre-
ceding lesson, that I have no doubt you will be glad to
know more particularly about it. It is an object worthy of
a pailieu!ar description, from the vast size it attains, and
from the singulari^ of its growth. This tree, which is one
of the most beautiful and curious productions in nature, is a
species <^ihefi/r tree; and as its native Ofuntry is the £ast
Indies, it is often called the Indian fig. Each tree is in
itkself a grove ; and some of them are of an amazing extent,
more cegembling a fepst than one tree. Every branch from
the main body thrtfi|^own shoots which at length reach
the grminf tod tjiafeia ot. At first these shoots are only
small ttikder ibres, hanging several yards from the ground ;
but they grow e^^Mially thicker as they gradually descer

INSTRUCTIVX RliADER.

6*1

till they reach the surface, and there atriklng in, they grow
to large trunks — become parent trees, shooting out in the
scvtne way new branches. This remarkable tree has long
been known and admired. Strabo, an aDclent writer, de-
scribes it, and mentions particularly, that afli^r the branches;
have extenued abcut 12 feet straight out from the main
trunk, they shoot down, as just described, and there root
themselves, and thus they propagate onward, till the whole
becomes like a tent supported by many columns. A Ba-
nian, with many trunks, forms the most beautiful walks and
cool recesses thit can well be imagined. One, growing
about 20 miles t6 the westward of Patna, in Bengal, is
mentioned as extending over a diameter of 370 feet, and
requiring 920 feet to surround the 50 or 60 stems by which
the tree is supported, but many have been seen immensely
larger. Pliny, a Roman naturalist, also dfpsribes this tree
with accumcy, as is shown by many modem travellers, and
the celebrated poet, Milton, has almost literally rendered the
description given by the ancient Roman, in the following
beautiful passage: —

" Branching so broad along, that in the ground
The bending twigs take root ; and daughters grow
About the mother tree; a pillared shade,
High over-arched, with echoing walks between.
There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat,
Shelters in cool ; and tends his pasturing herds
At loop-holes cut through thickest shade."

The leaves of this tree are large, soft, and of a lively
green ; — the fruit is small, not exceeding in size a hazel-nut
— when ripe, it is of a bright scarlet, affording agreeable
food to monkeys, squirrels, and birds of various kincis,which
dw^ll among the branches.

I he Hindoos are great admirers of this tree j they con-
sider its long duration (for, unlike most other vegetable pro-
duction*, it seems exempted from decay,) aid its grateful
shadow, as emblems of ttie Deity, and almost pay it divine
honours.

IRSTRVOTIVB READER.

They place their images under it, and there perform a
morning and evening sacrifice.

<< On the banks of the river Narbuddy, in the province of
Guzzerat, is a Banian distinguished by the name of Cub-
beer Burr, in litonour of a famous Hindoo saint. The large
trunks of this 8ingle*tree amount to three hundred and fifty ;
and the smaller ones exceed three thousand,. The Indian
armies generally encamp under it ; and at stated seasons
solemn Hindoo festivals are there celebrated, to which
thousands of votaries repair from every part of the Mogul
empire. It is said that seven thousand persons find ample
room to repose under its shade." compiled.

ADAPTATION OF ANIMALS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE

CONDITIONS.

Although the variety of quadrupeds is very great, they
all seem well' adapted to the stations in which they are pla-
ced. There is scarcely one of them, how rudely shaped
soever, that is not formed to enjoy a happir ess suited to its
nature. We may suppose the Sloth, that takes up months
in climbing a single tree, or the Mole, whose eyes are too
small for distinct vision, are wretched and helpless crea-
tures ; but it is probable, that their life, with respect to
themselves, is a Xuc of luxury. The most pleasing food is
easily obtained, and as ihey are abridged in one pleasure,
it may be doubled in those which remain. The heads of
quadrupeds, though difiering from each other, are each
adapted to their way of living. In some it is sharp, the
better to fit the animal for turning up the earth, in which
its food lies. In son^? it is long, in oHer to give a greater
room for the nerves of smelling, as ir. Dogs, who are to hunt
and tind out their prey by the scent. In others it is short
and thick, as in the Lion, to increase the strength of the
jaw, and to fit it the better for combat. In quadrupeds
that feed upon grass, they are enabled to hold down their
heads to the ground, by a stron^' tendinous ligamont, that
runs from the head to the middle of the back. This serves
to raise the head, although it has been held to the ground
for several hours, without any labour, or any assistance

propori

with V

and SI

juices

contra

have t

have

many

prope

greale

INSTRUCTIVE READER «

from the muscles of the neck. The teeth of all animals are
admirably fitted to the nature of their food. Those of such
as livd upon fleshy differ in every respect from such as live
upon vegetables. Their legs are not less fitted than their
teeth to their respective wants or enjoyments* In some
they are made for strength only, and to support a vast un-
wieldy frame, without much flexibility or beautiful propor-
tion. Thus the legs of the Elephant, the Rhinoceros, and
the Sea-horse, resemble pillars. Were they made smaller,
they would be unfit to support the body j were they endow-
ed with greater fie:(ibility or swiftness, it would be useless,
as they do not pursue other animals for food, and conscious
of their own superior strength, there are none that they need
avoid. DeerE, Hares, and other creatures that are to find
safety only in flight, have ttieir legs made entirely for speed ;
ihey are slender and nervous. Were it not for this advan-
tage, every carniverous animal would soon make them a
prey, and their races would be entirely extinguished. Th&
feet of some that live upon Ssh are made for swiramhig.*-^*
The toes of those animals are joined together with mem-
branes, being web-footed like a goose or duck, by which
they swim with great rapidity. The stomach is generally
proportioned to the quality of the animal's food, or the ease

vviin which it is obtained. In those that live upon flesh
and such nourishing substances, it is small, affording such
juices as are best adapted to digest its contents. On the
contrary, such animals as feed entirely upon vegetables,
have the stomaeh very large. Those who chew the cud
have no less than four stomachs, all which serve as so
many laboratories to prepare and turn their coarse food into
proper nourishment. In Africa, where the plants aflord
greater nourishment than in our teniperate climate, several
animals that with us have four stomachs, have there but
two.

In some of the lessons which follow, you will find some
more information about the way in which animals are thus
60 curiously fitted by theirCreator for filling up their respec-
tive StatlOnSi Abniged from GoldnniJiii

I2««TRUCTIVE READER.

THE CLOTHING OF ANIMALS.

There is another very remarkable circumstance regarding
the fitting of the various animals to the situation in which
they are placed by their all-wise Creator — I mean their
clothing, which is completely adapted both to the climate
they inhabit and to the difTerent seasons of the year.

As the cold season draws on, the covering of many ani-
mals assumes a difierent colour. This curious and wonder-
ful change very rarely happens in temperate climates. It
is in the extremely cold arcHc regions that this interesting
alteration of colour is most fully displayed. The object of
the singular provision is warmth ; and the principles upon
which it is attained, are simply these : nil persons have felt
that dark-coloured cIothes,especially Buch as are quite black,
heat the body in summer much sooner than white ones ;
and hence the prevalence of light-coloured garments in tho
hot season. But the contrary is the case during winter —
black clothes are the most comfortless garments we can
^vear. When black substances are placed in a temperature
greater than their own, they absorb heat much more read-
ily than a white substance ; but if after a black and white
body are heated to an equal degree, they are removed to a
temperature Imner thah their own, the black body will part
with its heat, and be cold much sooner than the white, —
White skins are therefore better fitted for keeping the hody
of an animal from cold, than those of any other colour ;
they shut in the heat when a darker one would have let it
out. Accordingly we find this beautiful law brought to add
to the comfort of the fowls and beasts of the arctic circle, at
a time, when, without it they would perish, ouid. to Knowwe*.

Besides the curious fact noticed in the preceding lesson
about the colour of the covering of some animals, you must
observe, that in all cold countries, such as Lapland, Kam-
schatka, and the most northerly parts of Canada, they are
clcHhed with thick and warm furs ; but in tropical countries
they are aln^ost naked. The musk-ox, a native of northern
latitudes, is provided in winter with a thick and fine wool,

or furl

him

season

from

self ol

induj

ceptlj

wher

as the

IKdtRVGTlVE READER.

or fur, which grows at the root of the long haifi and sheltera
him from the intense cold to which he is exposed in that
season. But as the summer advances, the wool loosens
from the skin, and by the animal's frequent rolling of him-
self on the ground, it works out to the end of the hair, and
in due time drops off, leaving little for summer clothing ex-
cept long hair. As the warm weather is of short duration,
where he lives,the new fleece t)egin8 to appear almost as soon
as the old one drops off; so that he is again provided with
a winter dress before the cold l^omes intense. Thus the
clothing is suited to the season^The elephant again, is a
native of hot climates, and he goes naked. Hein-deer
abound in Lapland and in the vicinity of Hudson's Bay,
and they have a coat cf strong, dense hair. The white bear
is found on the coast of Greenland, and his shaggy covering
and its colour, are finely suited to that latitude. In a word,
if we pass from the Equator to Spitzbergen and Nova Zem-
bla, we shall find in all the int(f»';>:c-di8td degrees, that the
clothing of quadrupeds is suited to their climate,and accom-
modates itself to the season of the year. Hence all fur is
thickened at the approach of winter, and that accordingly
is the season when those engaged in the fur trade endea>
vour to obtain skins.

Man is the only unclothed animal in all countries ; tmd
he is the only creature qualified to provide clothing for him-
self, and to accommodate that clothing to every climate and
to all the variety of the seasons. This is one of the proper-
ties which renders him an animal of ajl climates and of all
seasons. Had he been born with a fleece upon his back,
although he might have' been comforted by its warmth in
cold climates, it would have oppressed him by its weight
and heat in the warmer regions. In this, as in every other
respect, his condition is suited to his nature, as a being whose
improvement and happiness are promoted by labour of body
and exercise of mind. ^

In the covering of Birds we still find benevolent contri-
vances suited to the circumstances, and providing for the
comfort of the animal. Its lightness, its smoottinees, and

IWSTRUCTIYE FEADER.

warmth, are each so approprip.te, as to be obvioMs to the
most ordinary observer. Feathers are bad conductoi ; of lieat,
and hence permit the heat of the animal to pass off very
slowly, Tney are so inserted into the skin as naturally to
Ife backwards from the head, and to lap over each other,
like shingles on a roof allowing the rain to run off. When
the head of the bird is turned towards the wind, the feathers
are not discomposed oy the inost violent storm. And thus,
besides the beautiful /ariety of colours, they constitute a
garment for the body, .^o beautiful, and ao fitted to the life
the animal is to lead, as, if we had never seen it, we should,
I think, have had no conception of any thing equally per-
fect. There is on the back of birds at the insertion of the
tail, a large gland, which secretes an oily substance ; and
when the feathers are too dry, or any way disordered, the
bird squeezes out the oi'i with its beak, and dresses them
with it. Thus the adnission of water is prevented ; and
the bird, by means of lU feathers, is sheltered from cold and
rain. Water f<wli hr.ve accordingly the most abundant
supply of oil, vsmI hsve also their breasts covered with warm
and soft clothu # suited to their circumstances. We cannot
seriously att&nd to tho clothing of animals, without recog-
nizing in it the hand of a wise and beneficent First Caxise,

,[, AlWred from Fergui' Nat Theoh

THE USES OF ANIMALS.

Quadrupeds, — The uses of Quadrupeds are so various
that we must content ourselves with naming only a few of
them. Of what fp«at utility fc? the prosperity of agrieul-
ture, travelling, industry, and commerce, is that docile and
tractable animal the horse ! In what a variety of ways do
the ox and the sheep administer to our wants f and happily
for the world, these creatures are inhabitants of all countries,
from the polar circle to the equator. Goats, in many of the
mountainous par^:s of Europe, constitute the wealth of the
inhabitants; they lie upon their skins, convert their milk
into cheese and butter, and feed upon their flesh. The
Rein-deer, to the inhabitants of the icy regions, supplies the
place of the horse, the cow, the sheep, and the goat. The

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

camel is to the Arabian, what tlie rein-deer is to the Lap-
lander. The flesh of the eik is palatable and nutritious)
and of his skin the Indians make snow shoes and canoes.
The elephant, in warm countries, is useful as a beast of
burden, and draws as much as six horses ; wild male ele*
phants are also frequently hunted and killed on account of
their tusks, which constitute the ivory of c^r erce. What
an unweared pattern of unremitting ext ^^ fidelity is

that invaluable animal the shepherd's c humane

and excellent life-preservers are the Newt species ;

and what sagacious guides, and safe conduciors, are that use-
ful breed trained in the Alpine solitudes, to carry provisions
to the bewildered traveller, and lead his steps to the hospit-
able convent ! To what a number of depredations would our
substance be exposed were it not for that convenient and
agile animal the cat ! The ichneumon is to the Egyptians,
in several respects, what the cat is to us. Animals of the
weasel kind fiu>ni8h us with a number of rich and valuable
furs } the civet,\be genet, and the musk,with a supply of per-
fumes ; the beautiful skin of the tiger decorates the seats of
justice of the mandarins of the East ; the flesh of the white
bear is highly prized by the Greenlanders ; that of the leop-
ard is much relished by the African ; and the ion, even
the lion, the living tomb of so many creatures, is at last
frequently eaten by the Negroes.

Birds* — The ises of the poultry kind, especially of such
as are domesticated are too obvious to be enumerated ; it
it may however be remarked, that the common hen, if well
supplied with food and water, is said to lay sometimes 200
eggs in a year ; and the fecundity of the pigeon, in its do-
mestic state is so great, that from a single pair nearly fifteen
thousand may be produced in four years. It is in a grtat
measure for its singular plumage that man has been tempted
to follow the ostrich in its desert retreat ; but some of the
African tribes are also very fond of its flesh, and its strength
and swiftness seem to render it very fit for the purposes of
travelling and carrying burdene. If, in the feathery tribes,
some appear to be formed to please us withr the beauty of
their plumage,as the goldfinch and the humming bird \ others,

>^^^.

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X^rSTRUCTlVE REAlDfiR.

as the thrusli, the robin and the canary, delight us with the
melody of their song; The swallow, as if sensible of the
undisturbed possession she has been allowed to take of our
windows and roofs during the time of her necessities, catches
upon the wing a multitinle of flics, gnats, and beetles, and
thus frees us from a number of troublesome vermin before
she bids us farewell. Mtny birds are of infinitely more
use than we are able to discover, by the destruction of
grubbs, worms, and eggs of vermin. In many warm coun-
tries the vulture is of singular use — numerous flocks of them
are always hovering in the neighbourhood of Grand Cairo ;
and for the services the inhabitants experience, by these
animals devouring the carrion and filth of that great city,
which, in such a sultry climate, would otherwise soon put-
rify and corrupt the air, they are not permitted to be de-
stroyed. The ossifrage of the woods of Syria and Egypt in
like manner fields on the dead carcases of other animals.

Insects. — From the number of animals in the different
elements and regions of existence, which prey upon insects,
we are almost led to infer, that the principal object which
the Creator had in view in forming them,was the subsistence
of the larger orders of creatures ; but the following specimens
seem to shew, that some of these also contribute in no small
degree, to the service of man. By the labours and exer-
tions of the bee, we are provided with stores of honey and
yvax. The seemingly contemptible little silk-vvorm presents
us, in iti passage from the caterpillar to the sleeping state,
with materials for constituting our most costly raiment. The
cantharides, or Spanish flies, are of incalculable importance
as the basis of blistering plaster, and also as an internal re-
medy in several diseases } and the cochineal furnishes a
rich and beautiful dye.

Reptiles. — It has already been hinted that some animals
of prey are of the greatest service, by devouring those sub-
stances, which, if left to rot unburied, would corrupt the
atmosphere. Amongst animals of this description, we may
undoubtedly reckon the race of serpents j and whether we

rith the
of the
) of our
catches
es, and
i before
y more
ition of
1 coun-
ofthem
Cairo f
y these
tat city,
on put-
be de-
Jgypt in
Rials.

iifierent
insects,
t which
Bistence
cimens
small
d exer-
ley and
)resents
state,
t. The
ortance
nal re-
ishes a

Bnimals
Bub-
ipt the
raroay
er we

tN8TRUCTIV£ READER^

consider the fitness of their bodies for entering the densy
caves^ and holes ot li.e earth, or their voracious appetite for
this sort of food, in common with reptiles of an inferior or-
der, we must certainly allow, that they are wonderfully
adapted for this purpose. This, then, is one very important
use which they serve; besides helping to rid the earth of a
vast number of the smaller obnoxious vermin, they find their
way with the greatest ease into the most secret recesses of
putrefaction, and destroy those noisome carcases, to which
the other large animals of similar tastes could not, by the
peculiar structure of their bodies, have had access. The
use of the frog and toad, so commonly abused by school
boys, is also very great, and especially in the garden pre-
serve many vegetables which would be speedily ruined by
the worms and insects upon which they subsist.

Fishes, — Some of the tribes of fishes may serve the same
purpose in water that the carrlon-devourers do on the land.
But it is chiefly as an article of food that the tenants of the
waters are 16 be prized J and it is matter of thankfulness
that the benefits which they impart are most extensively
diffused. While our lakes, rivers, and streams abound with
these living creatures, the ocean conveys them in myriads
to the ends of the earth, and presents the bounties of an in-
dulgent parent to his numerous children, however scattered
among the isles of the sea. And while some of the larger
and rarer kinds are greatly prized and esteemed luxuries bf
the great, the poor have reason to praise the Almighty fur
an abundant supply of cheap, w^holesome, and nutritious
food, in these prodigious shoals of the umaller tribes which
visit 80 many coasts. Even the great Greenland whale,
which abounds in such numbers in the northern ocean, is
said to furnish the inhabitants of those countries which bor-
der on its haunts, with a delicious luxury in the article of
food. This fish, however, is better known on account of
its importance in furnishing oil and whalebone ; every whale
yielding on an average, from sixty to one hundred barrels of
oil ; which, with the whalebone, a substance taken from the
upper jaw, renders these creatures very valuable in a com*

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

mercial point of view. The skins of sharks and dog-fish
are converted into shagreen. From a species of the stur-
geon are pupplied isinglass, and also a kind of food called
caviar, which is in great request in Russia.

Shell-fish furnish so much of the food to the larger orders
of the finny tribe, that, as in the case of insects, it would
almost appear that they were called into existence for that
purpoiQ^ But many of them also contribute to the sub-
sistence, comfort, and luxury of the human race. The
hawk's-bill turtle is valued on account of its shell ; from
which beautiful snulT-boxes and other trinkets are formed.
The green turtle as a wholesome and highly nuti'itious food,
has become such a valuable article in commerce, that the
English vessels trading to the West Indies, are now gene-
rally fitted up with conveniencies for importing them alive.
The oyster is much prized for the delicacy of its flavour ; in
one species of it is also found that beautiful substance called
pearl. The pearls are searched for by divers, who some-
times descend from fifty to sixty feet, each bringing up a net
full of oysters. The pearl is most commonly attached to
the inside of the shell, but is most perfect when found in
the animal itself, ^i Book of nature.

THV CEDAR OF LEBANON.

^^ The Cedar of Lebanon so often mentioned with admira-
^on by the sacred writers, diS'^a greatly from the Cedar in
Alia country. It is a native of a very different kind of isoil,
being found in Syria on the tops of the mountains — it also
attains a stature and a thickness which the American cedars
never readh. They resemble each other, however, in vari-
ous other respects,8uch as the manner in which the branches
grow, in the form of the leaf, and the seed they bear.

The cedar of Lebanon, is a large majestic tree, rising to
the height of sometimes a hundred and twenty feet, and some
of them are from thirty-five to forty feet in girth. It is a
beautiful evergreen, with very small leave; very like in this
respect to the common cedar of our ■wfim[». It distils a
kind of gum to which various important qualities are attri-
buted* It derives its grandeur of appearance from its pe-

INSTRUCTIVE R£ADER.

ig-fish
i 8tur-
called

orders
would
or that
e sub-
The
; from
ormed.
18 food)
lat the
7 gene-
d alive.
}ur ; in
9 called
) Bome-
ip a net
ihed to
)und in

Nature.

idmira-

[edar in

>f Wil,

•it also

cedars

In vari-

lanches

•

sing to

[dsome

It is a

I in this

listUsa

attri-

lits pe-

culiar way of growth, as well as from its great height and
bulk. Its branches extend widely, and incline towards the
earth; they begin about ten or twelve feet from the ground
and in parallel rows round the tree, but lessening gradually
from the bottom towards the top, so that the tree is in ap-
pearance similar to a cane.

Madame de Genlis, a warm admirer of this truly magni-
ficent tree, says, *< It is neither travellers nor naturalists^
who would have named the Oak the king of trees. The
Rose will be in all countries the Queen of Flowers ; but
among trees the regal honour belongs to the ancient and
majestic Cedar."

Anciently it was indeed held in the highest estimaUon
among trees. The great and wi»3 Solomon speaks of it in
his writings in most rapturous terms of commendation, and
in the building of his famous and gorgeous Temple^ he made
so much use of this wood, that he almost stript Mount Leba-
non of its towering and wide-spreading Cedars.

We may form some idea of the extent to which he used
this wood in builuing the Temple from the fact that that
vast structure was almost entirely lined with it ; and that to
supply the necessary quantity of this precious wood no fewer
than eighty thousand men were employed solely in felling
Cedars, and conveying them to Jerusalem. When in the
prime of its living beauty, this tree as already noticed, has a
grandeur of appearance which would alone be sufficient to
account for the partiality which Solomon shewed both to the
living tree as a natural object, and to its timber as a material
of building. But besides this, there was yet another reason
for his high estimation of his favourite tree. The wood of
it, like its American relative, emits a fragrance which pro-
tects it against ravages which various kinds of insects com-
mit upon neariy all other descriptions of wood. The
ancients had a most exaggerated notion of its durableness
and incorruptibility — hence the sap of it was used by them
in embalming the bodies of the dead, and was also rubbed
on the most precious of their manuscripts to preserve them.
It is evident from the writings of Solomon, that if this tree
was not originally a native only of Lebanon, it was at jeast

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

much more abundant and more beautiful there than in any
other country in tlie world. But euch are the revolutions
which take place in all earthly things, that in the present
age it might far more justly be spoken of as the Cedar of
England or of France — for it is completely naturalized in
both these countries, and each of them possesses many
magnificent specimens of it — while in Lebanon, the ancient
land of its glory and its abundance, it has almost ceased to
exist ! Some few trees only remain to remind the traveller
of their former glory, and teach mankind the mutability of
all sublunary things. Towards the close of the seventeenth
century, a traveller named Maundrell, visited Libanus, and
reported that only sixteen ancient trees were standing — and
this on the very spot where, in the days of Solomon, there
was an immenj^ forest of these beautiful trees ! When the
Cedar was fiii^t introduced into England is uncertain ; but
it is certain, that several of them are upwards of 200 years
old. One which was blown down in a tempest in 1779,
measured upwards of sixteen feet in girth at seven feet from
the ground, and its branches extended out above one hun-
dred feet, and the height of the tree was about seventy feet.
The cedar of Lebanon i^ used in the poetical style of the
prophets to denote kings, princes, and potentates of the high-
est rank. Thus the prophet Isaiah, in denouncing the
judgment of God upon proud and arrogant men, says, that
it ** shall be upon all the cedars of Lebanon, that are high
and lifted up." And the spiritual prosperity of the good
man is compared by David to the same noble tree. " The
righteous," he says, << shall grow as the cedar in Lebanon."

Compiled.

CLOTHING FROM ANIMALS.

In the hide of an animal the hair and the skin are two
entirely distinct things, and must be considered separately
as materials for clothing. The hair of quadrupeds differs
much in fineness. It is chiefly the smaller species which
are provided with those soft, thick, glossy coverings that
bear the name of fur, and they are found in the greatest
perfection where they are most wanted, that is, in the cold-

•j^^

nrsTRUOTivc rbadir*

est countries. They fiMD, indeed, the riches of those
dreary wastes which produce nothing else for human use.
The animals most esteemed for their far are of the weasel
kind : the glutton, the marten, the sable, and th« ermine.—
That of the grey squirrel is also very valuable. Fur is used
either growing to the skin or separated from it. In its de-
tached state, it is employed in making a stuff called /e/f.—
It is in the manufacture of hats that felting is chiefly pnK>
tised ; and the fur used for this purpose is that of the beaver,
the rabbit, and the hare. Wool, however, is often employed
as a substitute in making a coarse article.

Wool differs from common hair, in being more soft and
supple, and more disposed to curl. These properties it
owes to a degree of unctuosity or greasiness, which is with
difficulty separated from it The whole wod as taken from
the animal's body, is called a fleece. The first operation
this undergoes is that of picking and sorting into the differ-
ent kinds of wool of which it is composed. It is then ta-
ken to the wool'comber, who, by means of iron«>spiked
combs, usually connected with machinery driven i)y water,
draws out the fibres, smooths and straightens them, separ-
ates the refuse, and brings it into a state fit for spinning. —
The spinner forms the wool into threads, which are more
or less twisted, according to the manufacture for which they,
are designed, — the more twisted forming worsted, the looser
yarn.

The kinds of stuffs made wholly or partly of wool are
extremely various ; and Great Britain produces more of
them, and in general of better quality, than any other coun-
try. The threads of English broad-cloth are so concealed
by a fine down raised on the surface of it, called a nofi, and
curiously smoothed and glossed, that it looks more like a;
rich texture of nature's forming than the work of that
weaver. Wool, in common with other animal substances,
takes a dye better than any vegetable matters. . Our clo^s
are therefore made of every hue that can be desired ; but in
order to fit them for the dyer, they are first freed from all
greasiness and foulness by the operation of fullingylti which
the cloths are beaten by heavy mallets as they lie in water,

-H

lAITRUOTIVl RIAOIR.

with which certain cleaniing subitances have been mixed*
And fresh water being continually iupplied while the beat-
ing if going on, all the foulnemi is at length carried off. The
operation of fulling haa the farther effect of thickening the
oloUi and rendering it more firm and compact, by mixing
the threads with each other, something in the manner of a
felt The cloths of inferior fineness are mostly called nar-
row cloths. With the single material of wool, art has been
able much better to suit the different wants of man in his
clothing, than can be done by all the productions of nature.
What could be so comfortable for our beds as blankets 1-^
What so warm, and at the same time so light for pained
and palsied limbs, as flannel t The several kinds of the
worsted manufacture are excellent for that elasticity which
makes them sit close to a part withcut impeding its motions.
This quality is particulariy observable in stockings made of
worsted. Even the thiuest of the woollen fabrics possess a
considerable degree of warmth, as appears in shawls. The
real shawls are made of the fine wool of Thibet, in the east-
ern part of Asia; but they have been very well imitated by
the product of some English looms. A very different arti-
cle made of wool, yet equally appropriated to luxury, is
carpeting. Upon the whole, Pyer's praise of wool seems
to have a just foundation : —

'< Still shall o'er all prevail the shepherd's stores,
For numerous uses known : none yields such warmth^
Such beauteous hues receive, so long endure ;
So pliant to the loomy so various,~-none."

Silkm — ^Men must have been far advanced in the observa-
tion of nature before they found out a material for clothing
in the labours of a caterpillar. China appears to have been
the first country to make use of the web spun by the nlk"
worm. This creature, which, in its perfect state, is a kind
of moth, is hatched from the egg, in the form of a caterpillar,
and passes from that state successively to those of a chry-
salis, and of a winged insect. While a caterpillar it eats
voraciously, its proper and fiivorite food being the leaves of

th<
on

IMBTRUOtlTI RIADIR.

the different tpeciei of mnlbeny. By this diet it ii not
only nourished, but enabled to lay upi in receptacles within
ita body formed for the purpose, a kind of transparent gjoe,
which has the property of hardening as soon as it conies into
the air. When arrived at full maturi^, it spins itself a web
out of this gluey matter, within which it is to lie safe and
concealed during its transformation into the hopeless and
motionless state of a chrysalis. The silk-worm's web is an
oyal ball^ called a eocoon, of a hue varying from light straw
colour to full yellow, and consisting of a single thread
wound round and round, so as to make a close and impene-
trable covering. The thread is so very fine, that when un-
ravelled it has been nieasured to 700 or 1000 feet, all rolled
within the compass of a pigeon's egg»4In & "^^ of nature,
-the ^silk-worm makes its cocoon upon Hhemulberry^tree it-
self, when it shines like a golden fruit among the leaves ;
and in the southern parts of China, and other ivarm coun-
tries of the East, it is still suffered to do so, the cocoons
being gathered from the trees without farther trouble. But,
in colder climates, the ijaclemency of the weather in spring,
when the worms are hatched, will not permit the rearing of
vof them in the open air. They are kept, therefore, in
warm "but airy rooms, constructed for the purpom ; and are
regularly fed with mulberry-leaves, till the p ' ?od of their
full growth. As this tree is one of the latest in le ifing^ silk-
worms cannot advantageously be feared in cold climates.
During thdir growth, they several times shed their skin, and
many die undier this operation. At length they become so
full of the silky matter, that it gives them a yellowish tinge,
and they cease to eat. Twigs are then presented to them
on little stages of wicker-woii, on which they immediately
begin to form their webs. When the cocoons are finished,
a small number, reserved for breeding, are suffered to eat
their way out in their butterfly state ; the rest are killed in
the chrysalis state by exposing the cocoons to the heat of
an oven.

The next business is to wind off the silk. After separit-
iog a downy matter from the outside of the cocoon, called
^oss, they are thrown into warm water ; and the ends of the

UftTAVCTIVl RIADIB.

1 i

threadi being found, eev«ral tre joined tofether, and wound
in a tingle one upon a reel. Thii ii the silk in Ita natural
state, called raw gilk* It next undergoes some operations
to deanae and render it more supple \ after which it is
msde into what is called organxine or throvm tilk, being
twisted into threads of such different degrees of fineness as
are wanted in the different manufactures. This is done in
the large way by mills of curious construction, which turn
at once a vast number of spindles, and perform at the same
time the process of unwinding, twisting, reeling, &r. Ail
the branches of the silk manufacture have long flourished in
Italy, from which was obtained the model of the machines
used in England. (The silk manufacture has been carried
on to some extent of late years in the United States.)

The excellence of silk, as a material of clothing, consists
in its strength, lightness, lustre, and readiness in taking dyes.
As it can never be produced in great abundance, it must
always be a dear article of clothing. The fabrics of silk
are very numerous — in thickness they vary from the finest
gauze to velvet, the pile of which renders it as close and
'warm as fur. Some of the most beautiful of the silk manu-
factures are the glossy satin ; the elegant damask, of which
theiiowsrs ars of the st.--^ -"^ -'-**^ ♦*»« n«cP -_: ..,_

luo liu* wi.u M.T

— . 5«, ttnd only-
show themselves from the difference of shade ; the rich
brocade, in which flowers of natural coloure, or of gold and
siTver thread, are interwoven $ and the infinitely varied rib-
ands. It is also a common material for stockings, gloves,
buttons, strings, &c.and its durability almost compensates for
its dearness. Mur h is used for the purpose of sewing, no
other thread approaching it in strength. Silk, in short, bears
the same superiority among clothing materials that gold does
among metals ; it gives an appearance of richness wherever
it is employed, and confers a real value. Even the refuse
of silk is carefully collected, and serves for useful purposes.
The down about the cocoons, and the waste separated in
the operations raw silk undergoes, are spun with coarser
thread, of which very serviceable stockings are made ; and
the inferior part ef the cocoon is reckoned to be the best ma-
terial for making artificial flowers. jMik.

firitAVeTIVI AlADIR«

miTIIfOT Of AVIMAtl.

the inferior animals are either altogetheir incapable of
reasoning! or possess the faculty in a very low degree j and
accordinglji if we discover any improvement among them^
it is in a few individuals only, under the special instruction
of man. Man on the contrary, reasons, plans, and usee
various means for the accomplishment of his ends } but
the inferior animals almost always use the iame meoM
for the attainment of the tame ends. Man also iiiiproves by
practising any kind of work, but the bird builds its nest, and
the bee constructs its cell, as perfectly on the first 'attempt^
and without either instruction and experience, as al any
future period. They have no need to serve an apprentice-
ship* Every kind of bird too observes a particular plan,
and all of the same species work after the same model— -
Were it rea^oti that guided then the habitations of animals,
their buildings would be as different as ours. The prin*
ciple which the inferior animals use in these circumstances 13
called iiutinct ; and although by means of it many animals
perform very wonderful things, yet.it is very far inferior to
reason in roan. It is this principle which leads every ani-
mal to defend itself, for instance, by those weapons with
which its Creator has provided it. Thus the dog in com-
bating an enemy uses his teeth, while the insect employs ite
sting. The ox never attemptt to bite, nor the dog to pusl^
with his head.

This principle also enables animals to know their ene-'
mies, and to warn eaph other of their danger. By a partie-
ular sound the hen calls her chicks to food ; and they know
what it means, and instantly comply with the invitation^—
By a different cry she warns them of danger, on the ap-
proach of a hawk ; and although they never heard the cry
before, they hasten to her for concealment and shelter. At
all animals have some means of defence and safety, so they
have corresponding instincts, which prompt to the proper
use of these means. In some of the lessons that follow^
you will learn some very interesting facts res{)ecting the in*-

UriTRI^OTlVl ABADtK.

•tinet of Bome animili in building their habitatiooi and
chanfing at certain eeaaoni th«^ place of their abode.

Ihwfikt

llAirrATIOlll Of AMIMALI.

Many anifnata Rve without any fixed habitation ; and the
dwelling which othera frequent is of the timpleat kind.-^
Some animala have no particular place of reiidenee during
winter, as many birds, but prepare a place in spring for
bringing forth and rearing their young. Others, as the bea-
ver, nave no fixed residence hn auininer, but provide a com-
fortable habitation against the severity of winter. In the
construction of their houses many animals display much-
sagacity ; and as an example of this, we may select the
beaver. This animal is endued with very wonderful in-*
atincts. The beavers, when numerous, construct their
houses on the maigin of ponds, lakes and rivers. They al-
ways choose a place where the water is so deep as not tO'
freeze to the bottom. When they build on small streams,
where the. water is liable to be drained off by a failure
in the sources which supply the stream, they provide
against the evil by making a dam quite across the river at
a convenient distance from their houses. This shows the
foresight and sagacity of an engineer in erecting a fort, or
marking out the ground for the site of a city. The shape of
the dam varies according to circumstances. If the current
of the river be slow, the dam runs almost straight across-;
iMt if the current be rapid, the dam is formed with a con-
•Uerable curve towards the stream, so that the different
parts of it support each other like an arch. The materials
employed are drift-wood, green willows, birch, and poplars,
if they can be gotten ; also sand and stone, intermixed in
such a manner as contributes much to the strength of the
dam, which, when the beavers are allowed to frequent a
place undisturbed, by frequent repairs becomes very firm.

The beavers always cut their wood higher up the river
than their dam, so that they enjoy the advantage of the
stream in conveying it to the place of its destination. On
the margin of lakes^ where toey have always a sufficient

iiSimSi

[i«iri'iii«iiiilf-ir-, .

/i3r

mmVOTITI MADM.

dbptli of watoTi t)i6T conitnict no dami. Their houMt,
however, tre built of the nme materitli ei the deroi ; and
their dimentioni tre Baited to the number of inhabitant!,
which aeldom exeeedi four old, and liz oreight young ones.
The great aim of the beaver it to have a dry bed f and their
houtei, whicli are but rude ttructuret, htve only one door,
•Iwtyi opening to the wtter.

The oMer, tikewiae, diwoven much ttgtcity in forming
hit habitation. He burrowa under ground on the banka of
riven tad Itkea. He tlwtyt inaket the entrtnce to hit
houae under water, woiting vpwtrdt towardt the torftce
of the etrth, and forming diflbrent ehambera in hit ascent,
that in case of high floods he may still have a dry retrent. —
He forms a small air-hole reaching to the surface, anti, for
the purpose of concealment, this air-hole commonly opent
ia • bush* rtri»i' hm tkfu

MIGRATION or BIBDt.

No subject, eonnectecl with nttural history w more inter*
eating, or more dese/vinc of study and admiration than the
peri(^ical migration of the feathered race. This marvellous
f&ct regarding birds has been observed in all ageSf and in all
ages has alike led the mind up to that Aimi^^ty Power
which, impelling the birds of the air « from zone to zone*,-
guides through the boundless sky their certain fligiiU"

Birds have a fuitive country, where they spend their
sweetest hours, 'earing their young, and gladdening the Kst<^
ening world with their songs. But when the family ip
reared, both old and young depart from their native land and!
make a foreign tour. Thus their time is nearly equally di-
vided—one half << at home,"^ and the remainder*^ abroad.'^
Almost all birds, with the exception of those in whom a
long residence in towns has partially changed their natural
habits, are, in a great or less degree, subject to this periodic
desire of ** seeing the worlds" The influence which prompts
to this movement is sudden and unpremeditated in its ope-
ration — generally the birds are all here to-day, and all gone'
to-morrow. When any of the migratory class are kept in
cages, a sadden restlessness it observed, to seize them at tht^

1 '

INSTKUCTIW RSADSA.^

Muon for emigration-— they will go to their evening loost ai
usual, and coirpose themselves in slumber, when^flutter,
flutter — ^they boi^nd from their perches, and beat their
narrow boundaries with the most anxious solicitude. This
agitation continues several days. The migration of birds is
two-fold^ northwards and southwards, or in other words,
there is a periodical movement of spring and winter visitors.
When winter's icy fetters are dissolved, and the grass be-
gins to spring, and the trees to bud, a multitude of birds,,
whose voices tell of epring, appear, new-sprung as it, were,
into existence. They have newly arrived from the regions
of the south, where during our frozen winter, ;they have en-
joyed food and warmth, but they are still oui^'birds, for here
they build their nests, and rear their young,and return, many
at least, year after year, to their old and well tried haunts. In
like manner when our summer visitors have taken their de-
parture at the approach of winter, those whoso native coun-
try is in the regions of the arctic circle come southward to
ii^Mend the winter. The object of this singular movement is
in all cases food and suitable advan1«ges in summer for
rearing their young.

There is a singular fact connected with the arrival of the
spring visitors, not easy to account for ; it is this=~the males
of many classss, perhaps, of ail, appear several days, some-
times a week or two, before the females join them, and it
would seem as if they came to look out for a fit spot, to
which they may invite their expected mates. A very
great number of thoi$e who visit us in summer are insedive'
touti that is, live upon insects, such as the marten and whip'
poor-willi and hence their appearance is a sure indication
that warmth is at least soon to follow when the insect tribes
can be found in plenty. The following particulars respect-
ing these annual emigrants I have no doubt will be interest-
ing to you.

The iime of Starting, — This is with so many at night
that it may be considered as universal. This fact has
already been indirectly alluded to. Some of them, although
eommencing their journey at night, travel in the day time,
but the greater part, under the protecting shadowi of night ;

jia5aaagK:-. .L:su^ . i . J..:ia -<ig fe^W

iMHi

UrSTftVCTIYS RKADSR.

while a few oae both timen necording to circimuitaneet. Ih
patMog over hmd they occasionally halt for food, but as they
spend little time upon even their most lengthened journey^^
they rarely sleep till they reach their destinatioot

A«m6er«.— They migrate in parties more or less numer-
ous, according to fixed rules peculiar to each species ; bat^^
the numbers, in every case, are immense. Captain Flia^|P
ders in a voyage to Australia, saw a compact stream of
stormy petrelSf which was from 50 to 80 yards deep, and
300 yards or more broad. This stream, for a full hour and
a half, continued to pass without interruption, with nearly
the swiftness of a pigeon. Now taking the column at 50
yards deep, by 300 in breadth, and that it moved 30 miles
an hour, which is slow flying, and allowing nine cubic
inches of space to each bird, the number would amount to
121 millions and a half. The migratory pigeon of the United
States (considerable numbers of which visit Canada) flies in
still more amazing multitudes.

Smfiness,'^Ytiai speed is necessary to enable birds to
cross oceans, without perishing from hunger or fatigue, but
they possess the necessary fleetness, as will be seen from
the folloT^lag stateihent. The Swifi^ it Has oeon cotuputod
flies on the average five hundred miles daily, and yet finds
time to feed, clean itself and collect materials for its nest,
with apparent leisure.

<< In 1830, one hundred and ten pigeons of the carrier
kind, were brought from Brussels to London, and were let
fly on the 19th July, at a quarter before nine, in the morn-
ing ; one reached Antwerp, one hundred and eighty six miles
distance, at eighteen minutes past two, or in five and a half
hours, being at the rate of thirty-four miles an hour* Five
mere reached it within eight minutes after. Thirteen others
took two and a half hours more for the journeyi or eight
hours in the whole. Yet the rate was twenty-three miles
an hour."

Ft^'iif^.— Most birds in their migrations, fly accordiag to
a determinate figure, which is connected with their <(form,
Btrengthi flight, attitude and destination." Quails fly in an

INSTRUCTIVE BtAt>llt« "^'

inwgular cloud ; their wings being short, they depend a good
deal upon the wind to drive them ; and hence their scattered
appearance. Some fly in dense columns, and some, aa
herons, in long straggling lines. The most curious figures,
however, are those assumed by the wild-goose. It has
been observed that the elevated and marshalled flight of
' cjld-geese seems directed by geometrical instinct — shaped
ike a wedge they cut the air with less individual exertion ;
and it is conjectured that the change of its form, an inverted
V, an A, or an L, or a straight line, is occasioned by the
leader of the van's quitting his post at the point of the angle
through fatigue, dropping into the rear, and leaving his place
to be occupied by another.

In all these things what wonders are presented to 'our
consideration t Look at a departing swallow— -think of his
unerring instinct, hie untiring wing, and his wonderful cour-
age — ^ready to cross an ocean, without food, pilot, or experi-
ence. Look at him dressing his agile little wing, and
conceive if you can, how it is possible that little creature
can, in the dark hours of night, steer a never failing course
across seas, or lakes, forests, and mountains. Or look at
<he Solan-goosey crossing the tractless solitudes of the North-
ern Ocean in a right line, direct to a particular rock, hit
former residence, and which perhaps no eye could see at
ten miles distance — can Crreat, Wise Man act ia this way 1
No, indeed ; before the mariner's compass was invented, he
was afraid in his voyages to lose sight of the land for any
length of time ; and hence could only move along the coast.

What is the undiscovered cause of the correct movement
of the feathered race 1 We can find it only in that great
Creative Being, who, in daily turning the worid upon its
axis, and guiding a tiny bird upon a lengthened journey, and
sometimes over an ocean, equally confounds our iwteUi-'
gence, and exalts Hit own glory, ffe points each species to
a land of plenty when winter is about to steal in among
them and deprive them of their accustomed food. Under
Hi* direction the northern water-fowl then pour down upon
the southern nations, at the incredible speed of two hundred
Aitei ian bouTi The birds of North America may be seeA

I J

INSTRtCTlVB RfiADBR.

at the approach of winter, passing to Mexico, and the West
Indies. — Pretty Birds, welcome, and farewell I co«piit4

MIORATIONt THE STORK — THE TURTLE-DOVE.

You were told in last lesson, that in all ages the wonders
connected with the iniaration of birds have been noticed.—*
The sages of old, as^ell as the carious and scientific, of
the present day, considered the subject worthy of their spe-
cial attention. Accordingly, this interesting subject is sev-
eral tinnes alluded to in that best of all books — the Bible ;
and is represented as illustrating the wisdom, power, and .
goodness of Him *< who satisfies the wants of every living
thing." Thus the prophet Jeremiah says, « The ttork in
the heaven knoweth her appointed time ; and the turtle and
the crane, and the ttoalloWf observe the time of their com-
ing."

The Stork belongs to a family of birds, every member of
which is readily distinguished by their peculiar forms. They
are not web-footed like many birds which frequent similar
places. But, although the stork on this account cannot
swim, it can nevertheless advance far into the water and
secure its prey. For this purpose it has very long legs of a
red colour, and long neck and beak. It feeds entirely upon
serpents, fishes, frogs and other equatic reptiles. Its bill is
not long, but jaded, so that its sharp hooks enable it to re-
tain its slippery prey. The nails of its toes are very pecu-
liar, not being clawed like those of other birds, but flat, like
the nails of a man. Its colour is white and brown. The
gentle and social disposition of this bird, conjoined with its
utility, has caused it to be regarded in all ages and countries
with peculiar complacency. In ancient Egypt it was held
next in esteem to the^|ffid Ibis ; and in many parts of
Africa, and the Eastj^Hrstill regarded with reverence.—
The stork abounds gremy in Holland during the summer
months. In the beginning of April tfley arrive there in small
flocks, where they uniformly find a kind and hospitable re-
ception— •returning year after year to the same town, and
the same chimney-top, it re-occupies its deserted nest ; and

"•'*-Yfi>a-'f- I ^M>

fc*

INtTRUCTirs RtAOEII«

ihe gladness they manifest,^ again taking ponetBion of
their dwelling, and tlie ** attachment which they tealify to?
wards their benevolent hosis, are familiar in the mouths of
every one." The stork has also been long ^oted for its af-
fection to ks young, and its infirm parenti^and the story
is well known of a female, which during the conflagration
«t Delft, chdse rather to perish with her young than abandoa
them to their fatCi' ^Sir John Hill» an eminent naturalist
set* this character of the bird in a strange and beautiful light.
*<The two parents feed and guard each brood; one ak
ways remaining with them while the other goes for food.
'They keep the young ones much longer in the nest than
any other bird ; and after they have led them out of it by
day, they bring them back at night, preserving it as their
natural. and proper home. When they first take out the
young they practise them to fly; and they lead them to the
marshes, and to the hedge-sides, pointing out to them the
frogs, and serpents, and lizards, which are their [Hroper
food ; and they will seek out toads, which they never eat,
and take great pains to distinguish them." At the time of
their return, after haying visited some warmer climate dur-
ing winter, this writer states, that " it is not uncommon to
see several of the old birds which are tired and feeble with
the long flight, supported at times on the back of the young ;
and the peasants speak of it as a certainty, that many of
these are, when they return home, laid carefully in the old
nests, and fed and cherished by the young ones, which they
reared with so much care during the spring before."

The stork's an emblem of tnie piety ;
Because, when age has seized, and made his daw
Unfit for flight, the grateful young one takes
His mother on his back, provyMLher food,
Repaying thus her tender caG^|H|hi,
-Ere he was fit to fly. r"^^* B«.«i^t

The stork, you will understand from what has been said,
is a bird of passage ; and Jeremiah, you were told, says
they « koow Uieir appointed time." And those who know

ZKITRUOTITB RBADBB,

.*<;

mott «boot them tell in that, ^%r about the apace of a fort-
night before they paaa from one country to anCther, they
constantly resort tiMether, from all the adjacent partii, in a
certain plain $ aa^ there forming themselves oAce every day
into a ** douwamte" or council (according to the phrase of
those Eastern nations,) are said to determine the exact tiliiie
of their departure." * ?

Who bid the stork, Columbus-like explore -

Heavens not his own, and worlds unknown before?
Who calls the council, states the certain day, ;|

Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way ?

Pop*.

TAe Twrth Dove.— The Turtle Is only a variety of the
Dove of which there are peveral families. It is a little
smaller than the common pige<>n, but the principal difiereiice
between this and the other birds of its kind, is in its migra-
torydisposition — the rest of the dove family are^ll stationary.
Ari8totle,an ancient Greek writer, notices the fact to which
the prophet Jeremiah alludes, as you have seen in the pre-
ceding lesson ; he says, '< the pigeon and the dove are al-
ways present, but the turtle only in summer : that bird is
not seen in winter." It is on the same account that
Solomon mentions the sound of its voice as one of the indi-
cations of spring. " Lo the winter is past, the rain is over
and gone, the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the
singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard
in our land." It is a bird whose voice makes glad the
groves, harmonizing with the soft breathings of spring, and
the aspect of reviving nature — a bird which by universal
consent, has been taken as the emblem of concord, love and
domestic happiness, the theme of poets in every age^ The
turtle is not insectivorous, nor does it, like the stork, ieed
upon frogs, lizards, or fish ; its food is grain, seeds, and
I berries, with the tender leaves of plants. The dove tribe
are all remarkable for the brilliancy of their plumage and
the splendour of their eyes. The manners of the dove are
[as engaging as her fi)rm is elegant, and her plumage rich
-. H >

> -

-.-■■

' ;

I
f

y i

t9|TI|i)DCTlv« It^AOSA*

a,ii/$>«i^<fl|; T,he.,9«ix|om «Uudeti^with Btrikine effbctl^
h^r. a^\lijb)|eJ^piB^, in, ihtfif wQll kpown dweoiibn to his
drMiple^ <f B^ j^ wiiC) a8,iQrpeQ^ and hanoleia as dovei.*'
WisapQJi, ii^ibQu^ ilmplicity, 4egenei«tm intp cuQoijigi—
B^aipili^tjr without wi84om. into aUHnees | united, the one
<K>rrMt| the .exc^w or eyppu^p .the defects of the other, and
both become the object of praise ; but Bepamted^ neilher
the wisdom of the serpent^ nor the simplicity of the dove,
gains in this pi^i^tsgeithc). Saviour's commendation. The
character which, is compounded of both* maltes.the nearest

X preach to, the trufB. standard of excellence. Wisdom
ables to discern between good and evili trutb and error ;
the simplicity of the dove renders him who possesses it,
inoffensive and sincere, that he may not deceive or injure
his ne1|;ltb€|ur« Whate.vei! else you may learn,, endeavour
a.t all limes to pra<;tice the advice of Paul to the Romans,
tobe .<< wise unto that, which is ^ood^.and simple concerning
evil." ,

ON THE SPIDER'S WEB.

Compile4.

Whilt, if we had not witnessed it, would seem more
incredible, than that any animal should spin threads, weave
those, threads into nets more admirable than ever fisher fab-
ri^ted, suspend them with the nicest judgment in the place
most abounding in the wished-for prey,and, there, concealed,
watch patiently. its approach? In this case as in many
others, we, neglect actions, in minute animals, which in the
larger, wpuid excite our endless admiration. How would
people crowd to see a fox that could spin ropes, weave
them into an accurately meshed net, and extend this net
between two trees for the purpose of entangling a flight of
birds t Or should we think we had ever expressed suffi-
cient wopder,,at seeing a fish, which obtained its piey by a
riinil&**.contrivanGeJ Yet there woidd, in reality, be nothing
mqre marvellous jn their procedure, than in those of spiders,
which ind^, the minuteness of the agent renders more
wojiiderful. The thread spun by spiders is^ in substance,
simUarto the silkof the silk-worm and other caterpillars, but
of, a uiuch finer quality. As in them» it proceeds from

iHi¥Mi;fhVi likklMnu

feMrvoiri,rnto i^ieh it is McicM in tbe fohn 'Jt Viseid guiii.
If you ejtifttiiii6 ft ii^idd^, ybu wiH ^^idli^ive taOtotfdk pio-
4ul)erttti6«ii Or MpTihh^rt^ These sto ih^ httstbfhery, thbbgh
which^by ft {yrotJMB more nhgnlariHim ihtrt of'^dci-i^hh^
the thread !s ^wa. £aeh iq|Nhnir i^'furtiisbed With 4
multitude of tubes itkebrioeivably fine, ahd cbhiiitttf| of
iwo |it«cd8> the last d* Which lertafhates in a pointibitineljr
small. Fi^m 6aeh of these tubes prbd6eds ti thread in<ion-
ceiVably sldndclr^ which immediately after issuing frdjiu it,
unites with all the other thieads into one. Hefnee frdin
each B(>inn^r |»rocee(b a compound thread ; and these f^flB
thresds again ttniie,«iid fdrm thethriead We ai^ accustoa»id
tu see, which the spid^ uses iii fbrfnnig his wdb. Thus 4
spid«ir*s thread, eveiii spun by the Smallest species, and when
80 fihie that it is almoiBt imperceptible to our tentes, is hot,
as we suppose, a single line, but a rope consisting of aa
immense number of strands. The spider is gifted by her
Creator with the power of closing the orifices of the spinner
at pieasurej and can thu^, in dropping from a heisht by jier
lino, stop heir progress at any point of her descent. The
only other instruments used by the spidei* in weaving, are
her feet, with the daws of which she usually guid^s^ or
keeps separfttbd into twd Or more, the line from behind I attd
in niahy Species, these are admirably adapted for the pur-
pose, two of them being furnifllhed underneath with teeth,
like those of a comb, by ineans of which the threads are
kept asunderi But aiiotber instrument was wanting. The
spider in ascending the line, ty which She had dropt her-
self from ah eminence, winds lip the superflubus cord into H
ball. In performing this the toothed claws Would riot httve
been suitable. She is therefore furnished With a~third claw,
between the other twb^ and is thus provided for every
occasion—The situation in which spld6)rs place, thetr tiets
are as various Ss their construction; Some j^tet ih6 bpen
airj and suspend them in the midst of sh^bk, Hxiiig theni in
a horizontal, a vertical j or an obliqiiiel dh^ildtf. Olbers
select thb Corners df Windows and 6t Mb^i Whiib |»r6^
always abound ; While isoinie establish Uteiiii^Reii Jh siiHes
and but-hoiUses and even cellani whefe one ^diilj wt

<«pni

$»

UfSTHyOTITB RIADn*

. I :l

ezjpect a fly fb be caught ia the month. The moit inctnletB
obierver muit have remarked the gireat difibreoce which
exiits in the conitruction of ipiden' webs ; thow which we
mpit commonly see in houses, are of a woven texturoi simi-
lar to fine gauze^ and are appropriately termed web§ ; while
those most frequently met with in the field, are composed
of a series of concentric circles, united by lines passing
from the centre, the threads being remote lirom each
other. These last are with greater prquriety termed netsj
the insects which form them, proceeding oa geometrical
pl^inciples, may be called geometrictam^ while the former
ciin aspire only to the humble denomination of weavertm
T|^e weaving spider, which is found ia houses, having
selected some corner for her web,and determined its extent,
presses her spinners against one of the walls, and thus fixes
as with '^ue one end of her thread ; she then walks along
the wall to the opposite side, and there, in like manner,
fastens the other end. This thread which is to form the
margin or selvage of the web, and requires strength, she
triples or quadruples, by a repetition of the operation just
described, and from it she draws other threads in various
directions, the openings between which she fills up, by run*
ning from one to the other, and connecting them by new.
threads until the whole has assumed the gauze-like texture
which we see. This web when in out-houses and bushes,
possesses generally a very artificial appendage. Besides
tbe main web, the spider carries up, from its edges and
Surface, a number of single threads, often to the Might of
many feet, joining and crossing each other in various direc-
tions. Across these lines, which may be compared to the
tackling of a ship, flies seem unable to avoid directing
their flight. The certain consequence is, that, in strik-
ing against these ropes, they become slightly entangled,
and in their endeavours to disengage themselves, rarely
escape being precipitated into the net cqpread underneath for
their reception, where their doom is inevitable. But the
net is still incomplete. It is necessary, that our hunter
should conceal her grim visage, from the game for which
she lies in wait. She does not, therefore, station herself

lltlTltVCTIVI ABADBir.

It incmiou
ince whick
) which we
xturei mmi-
o^»l while
» compoied
nee pauing
lirom each
ermed nefo ;
geometrical
I the former
of uoeavers^
ises, having
Nd its extent,
ad thus fixes
walks along
ike manner*
to form the
itrength, she
Iteration just
s in various
I up, by run-
iiem by new.
i-like texture
and bushes,
. Besides
edges and
ihe height of
larious direc-
ipared to the
lid directing
t, in strik-
entangled,
tlves, rarely
iderneath for
But the
our hunter
for which
.tion herself

Qpon the surface of her net, but in a small silken apertment
constructed' below it, and- completely hidden from view.
But thur entirely out of sight, how is she to know when her
prey Is entrapped 1 For this difficulty our ingenious weaver
has provided ; she has taken care to spin sevend threads from
the edge of the net to that of her hole, which at once informs
her, by the shakings of the capture of a fly, and serve as
a- bridge on' which- in an instant she can run and secure it.
You will readily conceive, that the geometrical spiders. In
forming their circled nets, follow a process very different
from that just dtecribed ; and it is in many respects more
curious; Bill as they can be seen in great numbers in the
field or garden any summer day, they can beeasilyexamined.
Look at them in the moming,when hung over with dew, and
you will tee more distinctly all the minute partis. You
must not infer that the toils of spiders are, in every part of
the worid, formed of such fragile materials, in those which
we are accustomed to see, or that they are every where
contented with small insects for their food. The spide;j of
Bermuda, are remarkably large, and spin webs between
trees seven or eight fathoms distantj which are strong enough
to ensnare a bird as large as a thrush.

Kirby end SpcM*— AkrUlgtd.

THE TIGER.

The Tiger is one of the most beautiful, but at the same
time, one of the most rapacious and destructive, of the whole
animal race. It has an insatiable thirst after blood, and,
even when satisfied with food is not satiated with slaughters.
Happily for the rest of the animal rare, as well as for man-
kind, this destructive quadruped is not common, nor the
species very widely diffused, being confined to the warm
climates of the East, especially India and Siam, it generally
grows to a larger size than the largest dog« and its form so
completely resembles that of a cat, as almost to induce us to
consider the latter animal as a tiger in miniature. The
most striking difference between the tig^r and the other
mottled animals of the cat kind, consists in the different
marks on the skin. ^ The panther, the leopard, &c. are

mmm

uwnvoTiym madir.

i^)oited« .hut the ti^er ii ornamented with long itreaki quite'
acioes Lti body* instead of Jipota. The ground colour, on
thoie of the most beautiful kind, ia yellow, very deep on the
baok, but growing lighter towards the belly, where it soCiens
to white, aa also on Ihe throat and the inside of the legs.
The atfeakSt which cover the body from the back to the
belly, are of the roost beautiful black, and the skin altogether
is so extremely fine and glossy, that it is much esteemed,
and sold at a high price in all the eastern countries, espe-
cially China* The tiger is said by some to prefer human
flesh to that of any oSier animal ^ and it is certain that it
does not, like many other beaats of prey, shun the presence
of man, and, far (roni dreading his oppositiun, frequently
seizes him as his victimr These ferocious animals seldom
pursue their prey, but lie in ambush, and bound upon it
with a surprising elasticity, and fronr » distance almost
incredible. The streojgth, as well as ike agility of this ani-
mal, is wonderful ; it carries oflTa deer with the greatest ease,
and w^U even carry off a buffalor It attacks all kinds of
animals except the elephant and the rhinoceros. Furious
combats sometimes happen between the tiger and the lion,
in which both occasionally perish. The ferocity of the
tiger can never be wholly subdued ; for neither gentleness
nor restraint makes any Alteration in its disposition. Bingteod.

THl BAT.

The Bat is a very singular creature, possessing properties
which connect it with both beasts and birds. On this ac-
count it has been classed, in aystems of natural history, some-
times with the one, and sometimes with the other. More
than one jiaturallst haa aaid, « it too much a bird to be pro-
perly a beast, and too much a beast, to he properly a bird."
Its nature), however, is now better known, and doubta
respecting the order to which it belongs no loogsr exist.
Th^ bat is now universally regarded as one of ihe animal
Idtes, io which the bringing forth its young alive, its hair,
lis teeth, as well as its general oonCbrmation, evidently en-
titles it. In no particular scaroely does it resemble a bird.

V w

miTAVOTITl lUBADBll*

fft

except in its power of lutttiamg haeiriii the air, wiiicfa
circiunitance it not enough to balance the weight of thoie
particulari which have been noticed ai placing it among
quadrupeds.

The ancients generally gave names to creatures indicative
of their nature and^^ti. The Hel)rew name for the bat
accordingly meani^^e iier, iQ dudui^Bss," that is, the
evening. It was similarly named hvffk Greeks and Latins.

The structure of the bat is Ikjkssly adapted for SBrial
habits } it hf we have just seen, a qjuadruped with wings :
but tfcese m'mffi dia» nDV ae m tbe bird», .eensist of feathers,
but oft thin membrane of grgat sensibility stretching to its
extremities, and coni^ecting the bones of the fingers. To
encrease the extent (h (surface of the membrane, as well as
to give it a pointedi wing-like figure, by which the evolu-
tions of the animal in 4he air may^ more free and rapid,
the bones of tbe ibre-arm are lengthened, and those cor-
responding to the fingers are drawn out as it were, to a
prodigious extent, and perform exactly the same office as
the whalebone strips in an umbrella. The thumb, how-
ever, is short and free, and armed with a sharp curved hook ;
and the toes of the hind feet are also short, and unconnect-
ed by membranes, each having a hook-like nail. The lege
of the bat are thus forined in a very particular manner, and
entirely difierent from any other animal, and were not in-
tended to be the means by which it should chiefly move.-—
It is, however, rapahle of crawling, or hobbling along, (in
a singularly awkward manner it must be allowed) on a level
surface ; but it never chooses such a situation for its renting
place-^indeed, its position on **all fours*' is unnatural.
WhilO; re|M)8ihg, the bat clings with the claws of its hind
feet to any projection,^ to the branch of a tree, or to the
rafters of a house, and ihus suspends itself with the head
hanging downwards, and the wings beautifully folded. The-
bats -oonstitute a numerona family, and spread through every
quarter of the globe, and are all nocturnal in their habits-—
their active state, and their enjoyments, b^inning with the
going down of the sun — they then sally forth from their
lurking-places, and launch into the air, where they fiqd the

iKituvcTif I xiAtfiir;

moth on tKo wing, and other tnttotf, to whi ^thoy $iv«<
ohue, and are tmmielvot not unfreqMontly (he pivjr of the
mousing owl. >^

fl9tk\f VUH•^

THI BOA*

IP.

The Boa ia « tremendoua kind W aerpent, (Vequentt?
A)und in the island m/^va. and other parti of the East hv
diei^as alio in Braiil,Tna lome other oountriea of floutii
Amerioav The boa ii among wrpenta what the Hon v *he
elephant la among quadrupeds. This cnormoun i-^ptlle,
which includes several speoiesi all ot them terrible Attm
their magnitude and strength, but destitut^t of venom, is
genemlly thirty feet long, and of a proportionable thickness ;
its colour is nC^dusky white, variously spotted ; the r«oale«
are round, small, and sfnouth. These fnrmidable lerpenta
lie in thickets, whence they sally out unawares, and, raid-
ing themselves upright* attack man, and every other ani^mal
without distinction We have an account of the seisuie of
a buffalo by onf^ of these enormous reptiles. The serpent
had been waiting some time near the brink of a pool, in ex-
pectation of its prey, when a bulfalo was the first victim
that presented itself. Having darted upon the animal, it
instantly began to wrap round it with its voluminous twist-
ings ; and, at every twist, the bones of the buffslo were
heard to crack. The poor anitnal struggled and bellowed ;
but its terrible foe encircled it too closely to suflTer it to get
free, till at length all its bones beinp rrunhed to pieces, and
the whole body reduced to a unifoii.i nvnH^., the servient un>
twined its folds in order to swalU //*/ >' i\ ) \iure. iu pre-
pare for thin, it was seen to lick tliu uody all over, and thus
cover it with its mucus, to make it slip down more readily.
It then began to swallow the buffalo, and its body dilating
itself to receive it, the monstrous serpent took in, at one
morsel, a creature three times as thick as itself. These ter-
<ih!i reptih«« are sometimes found with the body of a stsg
t? their guiiet, and the horns, which they are not able lo
swallow, sticking out of their mouth. mnhti.

WtTftVQTUl MADll.

TMI UOJI*

Of all inlmalf th« mitward form f)f the Lkm li tht moit
f triklni— hli look It bold and ooiiMtnti hit gait proud, and
hia volot terrible t and flrom hli graat airf ntih %a4 ■lUHji
la uauallj atfled the king «/^«/f. Hla bodv lo eempaeti
well nronorUonedi and iiieable— a perfect m^iM of •trentih
joined with •gllilv. It la aufllelent but to tee him in order
to be aaaured of hla auperlor force. Hit Aico la yery broad
and «najeatl»— hla hii|e «ye-brow»— hla roufid and flery
eje«bellB| whioh upon the leaittrrHation gtnw with ptru-
liar luatie— hia ahagrr mane «nelrcling hla bold titd awAil
flront, to|ether with tne fbrmldable appearance of hia teeth,
exhibit a picture of tf rrlAc grandeur which it la Inspoialble
to deacrlbe. Hla tongue la exoeodlngly rough and nrlekly,
and by licking, wlH eaally take off the tkin of a men'ahand.
The general colour of the lion 4a a lawny yellow, but not
without Bome oxocptiona, aa black «nd red. The length of
a large Hon la liotween eight and nine feet, and the height
•bout four feet and m liaJf. T-he A)matlon of the eye le
very aimllar lo that of the cat, and unable In like nwnner to
bear a atrong light, and hence he leldom appeara ftbroad in
the day,4ut prowta about chiefly at night, Thn gent rat
realdence of the lion ia in hot countrlet, for the moat part In
the torrid -sope, end be eeema to partake of the ardour of
the climate in which be Uvea. Aa til living creaturea
avoid him, ho ia, for the moat part, obliged to have recourae
to artifice to take kia prey } and therefore, like the tiger, he
boonda upon H from aome place of concealmenti and on
theie occaalona eatlly makea a apring of tighittn or twtnty
fm, Sometlmea he makea two or three bounda ; but If he
niaa hia object he givea up the purauit, retuma to hla place
of ambuah, and Ilea In wait for another opportunity. For
thia pur^poae, like the tiger too, he commonly lurka near a
apring, or on the brink of a river, where he mav readily
po«tnce upon auch animala aa come to quench their thlrat.

In thoae regiona where he baa not experienced the dan^

geroua arte aaid eombinationa of man, he haa no apprehen*

. aien from hia power. He boldly facea him, and aeena te

■*i«l

imiiuiucTiirfi RftAiniiu

brave the force of his arm& Woundu rather serve to pK>-
voke his rage than to repress his ardour, nor is he daunted
by the qpposition of aumbers-~« single lion in the desett of-
ten attacks an entire caravan, and after an obstinate com«>
ba(, when he finds himself overpowered, histead of flj-ihg
he continues to combat, retreating, ami still iaeiag tbeene*-
my till he dies. »

The roaangyu the lion is said to be so lou^ that when
heard in the night, and re-echoed by the mountains^, h re^
sembles distant thunder-^the whole rabe of animals within
its sound stand appalled, seeminf to regard il as the sure
prelude to destruction. Hence the roaring of the lion ii
often employed, especiaHy by the saered writers, to convey
an idea of the terrible* ** The lion has roared," says a plro*
phet, <* who will not fear 1"

His voracity is also grea^. Bufibn assures us, that he
not only devours his prey with the utmost greediness, but
he devours a great deal at a timoi and generally fills himself
for two or three days to come. Hence <* a lion that is greedy
of hi^ prey" furnishes David with a comparison whereby
to denote the fierceness and unrelenting character of his
enemies.. The lion has nevertheless been noted for ages
for his magnanimity and generosity— ^he has a greater iBoni>
tempt for inferior enemies than almost any other- large ani-
mal of prey. Many interesting instances have been furnish-
ed, both in ancient and modern timesi of his generosity and
wonderful strength of memory. Pliny relates, that the lion
has such respect for the female sex, and for infants^ that he
will not attack them upon any occasion, and seme travellers
have repeated the sentiment.

The Lioness is readily distinguished from her noble mate
by the want of the mane,wbich adds so much to his dijgnity
of appearaaee. That, 1 ioness is equally icourSgeous, with the
lion, and when pressed by hunger, will attack every animal
that comes in her way«

About the year 1650, saya Mr. Blngley^ when the plague
raged at Naples, Sir Oeoi^ Davis^ the EngHsb Gonlul
theie^ retired to Floreace* One day,, from cerionty^ h«
went to visit the Grand Duke^a dens. At the further ra4

onhe place, in one of .the dene^ la^ a liorr, which the keep*
ere, during Xh,fee whole yean, had nofteen able to tame,
though all the art and ge^UeuesB possible had been used^—
Sir George no sooner appeared at the gate of the den than
the lion r^n to himwitb all the iadic^tiona of^traatport that
he was capable of: expitsasing* He raised bioMelf up and
licked his hand^ wKioh Sir George pat 'm through the iron
grate. The /keeper^ affrighted, pulled him away by the
arm, entreating him not to liazard his life by venturing so
near the fiercest creature of his kind that had ever entered
those dens. Nothing, however, would satisfy Sir George f
but in spite of all the keeper said, he would go into the den.
The instant he entered, the lion threw his paw upon hi»
shoulders, hcked hia face, and ran about the place, fawning,
and as full of joy as a dog would have been at the sight of
his master. Such was hia memory of an old acquaintance
with whom he had been on board a ship on most intimate
terms. The Hon is said to be long-lived, although the pre-
cise period of his existence is perhaps unknown. The
great lion called Pompey, who died in the Tower of Lon-
don in 17^0, was known to have been there above 70 years j
and another, brought from Africa, died in the same place at
the age of 63. omeiu*.

Would'st thou view the lion's den ?
Search afar from haunts of men —
Where the reed-encircled fountain
Oozes from the rocky mountain.
By its verdure far descried,
'Mid the desert brown and wide.
Close beside the sedgy brim
Gouchant lurks the lion grim,
Waiting till the close of day
Brings again the destined prey.

Heedless, at the ambush brink
The tall giraffe stoops down to drink i

t:''

■V^-

INSTRUCTIVfi REAOpitr

i» ,

^ Upon him straight the savage spring
With cruel joy !— The desert rings
With clangfhg sound of det^rate itrife—
For the^ pny is strong and skives lor I ife ;
No\v, plunging, tries with frantia bound,
To shake the tyrant to the ground : ^

Then bursts like whirlwind through the waste^
In hope to^fiscape by headlong haste j J*
While the destroyer on bis prize
Rides proudly — tearing as he flies.

For life, the victim's utmost speed
Is mustered in this hour of need — ^

. For life — for life — his giant might ;^

H|i strains, and pours his life in flight ;
And mad with terror, thirst, and pain.
Spurns with wild hoof the thundering plain.

Tis vain ; the thirsty sands are drinking
His streaming blood —his strength is sinking }
The victor's &ngs are in his veins —
His flanks are streaked with sanguine stains ^
His panting breast in foam and gore
Is bathed.— He reels — ^hls race is o'er t
He falls — and with convulsive throe,
Resigns his throat to the raging foe ;
Who revels amidst his dying moans ; —
While gathering round to pick his bones,
The vultures watch in gaunt array.
Till the gorged monarch quits bis prey./

\ V >caiiy Maguiae.

THE PELICAN.

The Pelican is a most singular^ and interesting bird, and
well merits (as indeed in all ages it has^feceived) the atten-
tion of the naturalist. It is equally at ease in the water or
in the air. The shape and general appearance df its body
resemble a goose more than any other bird with which you

» •■

-t

*T% llWfWWnV»*»EAl)KS. ^

will befamilisr; only M, ii not so fltt in the baek^ jud iti
bond and beak lodk tery different j and It bo far e^Mebda it
in size that you can scMsely fuicy the diiferonce. The
Pelican often measores ilVe or six AJit from the point of the
bill to jdie end of tfae tail, and ten or twelve ilet from tip to
tip of the wings. On land it is a heavy inactive looking
birdybnt it it not so in reality ; on the contrary it is ex-
tremely vivadous and agile; and when teen foating upon
its wide-spreading Wings over the undulatipg waves, iew
objects in nature present a more lively or ^yen graceful ap-
pearance. The beauty of her motions is also agreeably
heightened by her colour, which, with the exception of the
black quill feathers of the wings, is of a delicate salmon, or
blush eblour. ,

The Pelican feeds npon living fish ; and to enable her to
catch them with facility,Nature has not only provided her for
that purpose with an admirable fishing speaifbut alsf* with a
great bag or pouch, in which she can hoard up supplies for
future wants. Her fishing apparatus, consists of an upper
bill of great length, being no less than fifteen inches from
the point to the opening of the mouth ; — it is straight, broad,
flattened above, and terminated by a slight hook ;«-and a
lower bill, of a forked shape, the two branches of which
meet, and form the point of the bill. From the lower edges
of these hangs its fish-bag, reaching the whole leiigth of the
bill to the neck, and is capable of being so greatly stretched,
as to contain fifteen quarts of water, or a proportionate bulk
of fish. When not in use, this bag by an admirable con-
trivance, is wrinkled up in such a manner as to be entiipely
hidden in the hollow of the under bill.

Thus accoutred for a fishing excursion, the pelican sallies
forth. . When she rises to fly, she jeems to perform it with
difiiculty ; but this is probably owing to the bulk of her
body and great expansion of wing, for when requisite she
can display no ordinary activity of motion. Once on wing
she soon sails majestically to some favourite haunt, where
the finn) tribes swarm in unsuspecting multitudes. These
predatory excursions extend alike to the fresh fiver, and the
salt ocean, and are performed sometimes alone, but oftener

iKSTEUornrft RiAint*

*"iv

in coopftny* Arrived at an approved f pot, she cheeks her
faatly-flappiDg wings, and << turning the head with one eye
downwardSy c^ets a keen enquiring look into the water be-
neath, and continues to fly in that posture." As soon as a
fish is discerned sufficiently near the surface, she bfats an
upward stroke with her wings, at the same time discharging
the air from. her Inngs, she darfs down with the swiftness of
an arrow, and souses with incredible impetus into the
waters, which ring sharply as they close over, and shut her
from the eye of the wondering beholder.

After remaining a few seconds the victorious pelican
emerges unwetted, to the surface, the briny drops rolling
from her blushing plumage : — joyously she lifts her twisting
victim from his native element, and resigns it to the pouch,
and sails with ease upon the rolling waters. At length
loaded with spoil thus procured, her fish-bag stretched to an
incredible extent, she returns with unerring precision to her
resting-place, and according to the season, either feeds her-
self, or her young, at leisure. — <*The female pelican seldom
quits her young, but is fed by the male, who crams his
pouch with double his allowance, and then proceeds to
shovel her fair share into his partner's throat. It is in this
manner also that the young are fed, the old bird pressing his
full pouch against his breast, and contriving thereby to dis-
gorge a portion of its contents." The Hebrews called this bird
the vomiiery evidently from this mode of discharging the
contents of its bag. After feeding this animal is inactive to
the greatest degree, and it is only hunger that excites it to
move. This bird has not only a melancholy aspect, but
prefers the most solitary places for its residence. The
writer of the hundred-and-second Psalm alludes to the lonely
situation of the Pelican in the wilderness, as illustrative of
the keenness of his own grief, at witnessing the desolation of
< of his country, and the prostration of the sacred altars.

CompUcd.

THB RATTLE-SNAKE.

The Rattle-Snake is a native of the American continent.
It is not so large as the 6oa| of which you have had an

nVBTRUOTlTI RIADIR.

mccount, but la an enemy not less tc be dreaded because of
the deadly wound which it inflicts. It is dreadfully poison-
ouS) and is chiefly distinguished for the fatality of its bi^
and the rattle in its tail, with which it makes a loud noise
on the least motion. This rattle is composed of several
thin, hard, and hollow bones, linked together. It is doubU
less a provision of kindness on the part of the All- wise Crea-
tor, who seeing fit to arm it with more than ordinary viru-
lence of poison, has in mercy to other creatures, so formed
it, that in its every motion it sounds an alarm, which they
instinctively know, and testify their terror by a precipitate
retreat. The Rattle-Snake is sometimes found as thick as
a man's leg, and more than six feet in length. Cases of
recovery from the bite of this animal are very rare ; some
have expired under it in five or six hours. Biaiiud.

The wonderful effect which music produces on the ser-
pent tribes is now confirmed by the most respectable testi-
mony. Music is oflen employed in the East to draw
poisonous serpents from their various lurking places, and
when listening to the melody are readily destroyed. The
Sattle-Saake acknowledges the power of music, as much as
any of his family, of which the folic^wing instance is a
decisive proof. When Chateaubriand was in Canada, a
snake of this species entered their encampment ; a young
Canadian, one of the party, who could play on the flute, to
divert his associates, advanced with the new species of
weapon. «0n the approach of his enemy, the haughty
reptile coiled himself into a spiral line, flattened bis head,
inflated his cheeks, contracted his lips, displayed his
envenomed fangs, and his bloody throat ; his double tongue
^ared like two flames of fire ; his eyes were burning coals ;
his body, swollen with rage ; rose and fell like the bellows
of a forge ; his dilated skin assumed a dull and scaly ap-
pearance ; and his tail which sounded the denunciation of
death, vibrated with so great rapidity, as to resemble a light
vapour. The Canadian now began to play upon his flute ;
the serpent started with surprise, and drew back his head*
la proportion aa he wai struck with the naiic effect, bia

100

urmuoTiri biadbb.

eyes loit their fieroeneM, the oiciUationB of hit tail became
■lovveri and the Kmnd which it emitted became wealcer,
«||i gradually died away. The rings into which he had
epied himself became gradually expanded, and sunk one
aiter tnother upon the ground in concentric circles. The
shades of azure green, white, and gold, recovered their
brilliancy on his quivering skin, ana, slightly turning his
head, he remained motionless in the attitude of attention and
pleasure. At this moment the Canadian advanced a few
stepS; producing with his flute sweet and simple notes.
The reptile, inclining his variegated neck, opened a passage
with his bead through the high grass, and began to creep
ailerthe musician, stopping when he stopped, and beginning
to follow him again, as soon as ho moved forward." In
this manner he was led out of the camp, attended by a great
number of spectators, both savages and others,''who could
scarcely believe their eyes, when they beheld the wonderful
eflSsct of this harmony. They unanimously decreed that the
serpent which had so highly entertained them, should be
permitted to escape.— The Rattle-snake is now compare*
tively seldom seen in this province, and that only in certain
districts. Indeed, as it seems to frequent only certain locali-
ties of a rocky or gravelly character, it was probably at no
time, spread over the country. They are still to be found
about the falls of Niagara, and the elevated ridges at the
head of Lake Ontario. A peculiar natural basin in the
bosom of these ridges, and where the thriving town of Dun-
das now stands, was formeriy denominated by the Indians,
BaUk'tnake-den, So greatly did they abound in that
vicinity in former times, that some of the oldest settlers in-
form ns, that they were accustomed to turn out occasionally
in a company to hunt out and destroy those dangerous rep-
tiles. CompUed.

THB BLBPHANT. '

—The huge elephant : wisest of brutes !
O, truly wise ! with gentle might endow'd :
Though powerful not destructive I

The Elephant it in every respect the noblest quadruped in

IlflTRVCTIVB RBADIR*

101

ill became
) weaker,
sh he had
aunk one
sles. The
'cred their
;iimiDg his
lention and
iced a few
iple notes.
i a passage
in to creep
d beginning
vard." In
I by a great
who could
i wonderful
}ed that the
, should be
compare-
in certain
[rtain locali-
ably at no
10 be found
Ig98 at the
isin in the
n of Dun-
|he Indians,
d in that
Isettlers in-
casionally
Igerousiep-

nature,-^in size and strength it surpasses all ethaw^and in
sagacity is inferior Only to man. Were we, howereri to lalw
our idea of its capacity from its outward appearaooi^m
should be led to conceive very meanly of its abilitiatr tJltiA
first view it presents the spectator with an enormous'nisa
of flesh, that seems scarcely animated. ^ The huge body
covered with a callous hide, without hair $ its large mis-
shapen legs, that seem scarcely formed for motion ; its small
eyes, large ears, and long trunk, all give it an air of stupid-
ity. But our prejudices will soon subside when we come
to examine its history ; they will even serve to excite our
surprise, when we consider the various advantages it derives
from so clumsy a conformation.

To describe their exact size is very difficult, as they have
been seen from 7 to 15 feet high, and no description can
carry a just idea of their magnitude, unless the animal itself
has been presented to the view. Whatever care we take
to imagine a large animal before-hand, yet the first sight of
the creature never fails to strike us with astonishment, and
to some extent exceed our idea. This wonderful animal is
a native oiMa and Africa^ but is most numerous in the
latter. They are found chiefly between the river Senegal
and the Cape of Good Hope, and here they abound more
than in any other part of the world.

Though the Elephant is the strongest, as well as the lar-
gest of all quadrupeds, yet in a state of nature it it neither
fierce nor mischiveous ; but mild and peaceable in its dis-
position it exerts not its strength. In its native places this
animal is seldom seen alone, but appears to be particularly
social and friendly with its kind, the oldest of the troop
always appearing as the leader, and the next in seniority
bringing up the rear. This order is, however, merely ob**
served when they are upon the march in search of oidtivated
land, where they expect to have their proglress impeded by
the proprietors of those lands they are going to lay waste*
They do incredible damage wherever they advance into cul-
tivated ground, not only destroying vast quantitiea of food,
but also destroying, by the enormous weignt of their bodies,
more Jhan they eat* The inhabitants of the eenntriesy

10^

iMTRuonvi RSADnr.

r r-

wboNT thejr ftboond, um every artifice to prevent the flp>r
pfoaeh of tbete unwelcome visitants, making loud noises'
and kindling fires round their habitations; but notwithstand*'
inf all these precautions, the elephants sometimes break in
upon them, anddestroy their harvest. It is very difficult to
repel the invaders ; for the whole band advances together,
and whether they attack, march^ or fly, they generally act
in concert. The largest elephants are found in India. The
colour of this creature is not unlike that of the mouse — its
skin is so hard that it can scarcely be penetrated, especially
on the back ; the most tender part being under the belly.
Although its eyes are peculiarly small, yet they ar& quite
expressive of what the animal feels. Its sense of smelling
is also very delicate, and it manifests a great fondness for
odoriferous flowers. Its hearing is also acute; and no ani-
mal is so exquisitely affected by the touch. It has four
teeth in each jaw, with which it grinds its meat like meal ;-
besides these it has two others, wliich har.g out beyond the
rest; these are ivory, and commonly called tmks. In the
male they grow downwards, in the female upwards. Those
of the male are larger, while those of the female are sharper.
It is said one of them is always kept sharp to revenge in-
juries ; and 'with the other it roots up plants and trees for
food. The tusk of the male grows to about ten feet in length
and is frequently found to weigh upwards of three hundred
pounds in weight. The teeth of the female, however, are
considered the most valuable. Its legs are niassy columns
of three or four feet in circumference, and five or six in
height— its feet are rounded at the bottom, divided into five-
toes covered with skin, so as not to be visible. The sole of
the foot is covered with a skin as thick and hard as horn.
This animal is also nearly destitute of hair, and the skin is
uneven and wrinkled, and full of deep fissures, resembling
the bark of an old tree. When tamed the elephant kneels
to receive his rider or burden, and the joints which it thus
bends are about the middle of its legs like the knee of a
man ; and contrary to other quadrupeds the hind knees
bend forward. But the most singular and peculiar charaC'^
teriato of this animal is its trunk ; and of all the instrumenita!

nriTRUOTlTI IIASBB.

lOi

id noiM»
ithsUnd-'
break in
lifficuU to
together^
erally act
dia. The
louse — its
especially
the belly,
are- quite
f smelling
ndness for
nd no ani-
t has four
like meal ;
beyond the
'es. In the
is. Those
ire sharper,
•evenge in-
id trees for
et in length
ee hundred
jwever, are
isy columns
Q or six in
Jed into five
|The sole of
•d as horn*
I the skin ia
Iresembling
lant kneels
lioh it thus
knee of a
[hind knees
liar charac-
inatnimeiktft

which the mperabuiidant wisdom and goodoen of the Ciet-
tor has bestowed on the various forms of aaioMl life, this it
perhaps the most complete and nest admirable.

The trunk is, properly speaking, only the snout length*
ened oat to a great extent, hollow like a pipe, and ending
in two openings or nostrils, like those of a hig« An ele-
phant about 14 feet high has the trunk about eight feet
long. This fleshy tube is composed of nerves and muscles.
It is capable of being moved in every direction, of being
lengthened and shortened, of being bent or straightened—
so pliant as to embrace every body) and yet so strong that
nothing can be torn from its grip. Through this the animal
drinks, and smells, as through a tube ^ and at the very point
of it, just above the nostrils, there is an extension of the
skin, about five inches long, in the form of a finger, and
which in fact serves all the purposes of one* By means of
this the elephant can take a pin from the ground, untie the
knots of a rope, unlock a door, £2o., and grasp any thing so
firnily that no force can take it from his grasp. With this
instrument the elephant also gathers its food and puts it to
its mouth as with a hand. Its manner of drinking is equal-
ly extraordinary. For this purpose the animal dips the
end of his trunk in water, and sucks up just as much as
fills that great tube completely. It then lifts its bead with
the trunk full, and turning the point into its mouth, as if it
intended to swallow trunk and all, it drives the point below
the opening of the wind-pipe. The trunk being in thia
position, and still full of water, the elephant then blowr
strongly in at the other end, which forcea the water it con-
tains into the throat, down which it is heard to pour with a
loud gurgling noise, which continues till it is all blown
down. The elephant brings forth only one young one at a
time, and that about the size of a large calf, and grows to
thirty. If it receives no hurt it will live from one to two
hundred years. Of all animals, the elephant, when once
tamed, is the most gentle and obedient. Its attachment to
its keeper is remarkable ; and it seems to live but tosorve
and obey him, and when treated with kindness, testifies itt
gratitude by kind carresses. Iti drawing burdeoa its strength

104

unTAVornni ibadiBi

if equal to that of aix lioraei, and withont fatigue it ean
rapport for a eoMiderable journej about 4000 poondi upon
ita back. Theae animala are uied in drawing ohariotay
waggoM, fco.9 and are of remarkable uie in carrying gnat
quaotitiea of luggage acroaa riven. They can travel neariy
100 miles a day, and 10 or 60 regularly, without any vio-
lent effort

Though this animal seems capable both of affeotion and
gretitode, disappointment or injustice produces resentment
and spleen* Before the destructive use of fire-arms was
known, the princes of the East placed their chief depend-
ance in war on the number and discipline of .heir elephants ;
but now they chiefly use them for parade or beasts of bur-
den. Regarding the manner of taking and taming them,
you w|l[ receive information in a aubsequent section.

Ouid« to KaowUdgt.

SAGAonr or thi ilepmant.

Many interesting anecdotes Uave been told of the remark-
able sagacity of tfa^ elephant. The following are well au-
thenticated.

An elephant that was kept at Versailles seemed to be
aenstble of it when any one attempted to make sport of
him, and to keep the affront in mind till he found an op-
portunity for retaliation. A painter wished to make a
dnwing of this animal in an unusual attitude, with his
trunk elevated and his mouth open. In order to keep the
elephant in this position, the artist's servant threw fruit into
his mouth, but more frequently only made him believe that
he was about to do it. Although this greatly irritated the
elephant, he did not attack the aervant, but, as if sensible
that the painter was the instigator of the deception that had
deen practised upon hi'm, he directed his eyea towards the
latter, and threw out of his trunk such a quantity of water
upon him as completely spoiled the drawing.

This elephant generally availed himself less Of his strength
than of his ingenuity. He once unbuckled with the great-
est ealmness and deliberetioni a strong leathern strep which

IiriTAVOTITI RBAOBB*

10ft

BitettH

aiupOA

sharl(rti»

tny vio-

lUon and
itentment
irrot wai
if depend-
jlephanti ;
lU of bur-
i\ng them,
ition.

Kaowl«4s*«

the remark-
[6 well att-

smed to be
ike sport of
jund an op-
to make a
Je, Yfith his
to keep the
BW fruH into
believe that
irritated the
IB if sensible
lion that had
, towards the
tity of water

had baea faalened rooad hit lea, and as hit attendtat had
tied tbt buckle round with pael-thread, and secured it with
many knofs, the animal very deliberately unloosed theas all
without breaking the strap or the psck-thread.

A soldier in ladia lefused to give the road to an dephaat
and his conductor, at which the elephant was highlv affiront*
ed. Some days after, meeting the soldier upon the banks
of a river, at a time when he had not his keeper with him,
he seised him with hit trunk, ducked him several times ia
the water, and then let him got.

In Delhi, an elephant passing along the streets, put his
trunk into a tailors shop, where several people were at
work ; one of them pricked the end of it with his needle |
the animal passed on ; but in the next dirty puddle filled
his trunk wtth water, returned to the shop, and spurung
every drop among the people who had offended him, spoiled
the work. attid«tox.owiic»

AMERICAN MOOS BIRD.

The Mock Bird is about the size of a Robin, of a uniform
grey colour, with a reddish bill. Its natural notes are
musical and solemn ; but it possesses the singular power of
assuming the tone of every other animal, whether quadru-
ped or bird, from the wolf to the raven and the wren. It
seems to divert itself with alternately alluring and terrifying
other birds. Sometimes it entices them with the call of their
mates, and, on their approach,terrifie8 them with the screams
of the eagle, or some other bird of prey. It frequents the
habitations of mankind, and is easily domesticated. It
builds its t\est in the fruit-trees near the houses of the plant-
ers; and sitting sometimes most of the night on the tops of
their chimnies, assumes ita own native melody, and ponn
forth the sweetest and most various airk »Hiniw

In Hippisley's descriptiea of the scenery of the Apurey he
mentions a eireupistance which illustrates well the re-
markable accuracy with which the Mock-biid mimioa
•kncat any sound-- aven that of the human Toiee.

lt)6

mSTAUOTiyi RBADIR.

** On Meending the Apure, our people htdy ai tnnaly
landed to cook their supperii and to prepare (bod for eon-
sumption on the following day. The night had been wholly
■pent on shore by both officers a \ men. The hammock
on which I slept was suspended between two trees, at some
height from the ground, and to windward of the fires. Here
the mocking-bird gave me a most decisive proof of its
powers of utterance, and its capability of articulating two or
more syllables, with such clearness of sound and expression
as to astonish ail who heard it. At day-light, when I
awoke, having occasion to speak to one of the officers, and
not seeing him near me, I called aloud on his name. I
called a second time, when I was told he was gone down
to our boat. In a few seconds after, I heard a voice similar
to itiy own, repeating equally loud, <*DeniB ! Denis ! Denis !
Denis" I with the usual pause between. This call Captain
Denis himself distinctly heard, thought it mine, and ans-
wered that he would be with me directly } and, from the
constant repetition^'he imagined that the nature of my busi-
ness mu6t be urgent, and hurried himself accordingly.
Several of the non-commissioned officers, who also heard
the call, directed others to "pass the word for Captain
Denis, as the Colonel wanted liim." Our eyes and ears
being at length directed to the spot, we discovered that my
obliging, attentive, and repeating friend was sitting in the
form of a bird on the upper branch of a small tree near me,
from whence he soon took his flight, making the very woods
resound with the name of Denis. m/puwi tiunun.

THE OROCODILI.

The Crocodile is one of the most terrible and mischie-
vous animals which is to be found in nature. It frequently
grows to the size of 20 feet in length and five feet in cir-
cumference. Some, it is said, have even been found of the
length of 30 feet The fore legs have the same parts and
conformation as a man's hands, each paw having five fin-
fsra. The hind legs, including the thigh and the foot, are
about two feet two inches long, divided^ioto four toc% niift^

IlllTltU0Tiri MBAOBR.

107

Don-

lolly

Qook

lome

Here

Dfiti

wo or

Bssion

ben I

B, and

ne. I
down

similar
Denis !
;3aptain
tid ant-
rom the
ly buii-

)rdingly.

beard
ICapiain
tnd ears
ittaat my

in the
iear moy

woods

aiacbie-
eqoently
\x in cir-
Bd of the
arts and

fivefin-
|foot,aie

(Ullft*

ed by a membrane or web| like thoee of a ducki and armed
with laige olawi* The head It long and flat, and the eyee
are very smalU Ite jawi open to the terrible width of fif«>
teen inchei and a half. The skin it defended by a suit of
armour, composed of Isrgejcabs, almost impenetrable to a
musket-ball.- The general colour of thii animal is a dark
ash-coloured brown on the upper part, and a whitish citron
on the belly — the sides being speckled with large spots of
both of these colours. This formidable creature spares
neither man nor the fiercest quadruped that comes within
his reach. Combats frequently take place between it and
the tiger. Such is its amazing strength, that, with a single
stroke of its tail, it has frequently been known to overturn
a canoe. This animal abounds in the Nile, the Niger, the
Ganges, and other great rivers of Africa, and the warmer

parts of Asia and America.

THl BEAR.

«»»

^^**^'

Bears constitute a large family of that tribe of carniver'
ous quadrupeds which are distinguished by their resting en-
tirely on the soles of their feet, from the toes to the heel, in
the act of walking, and hence called by Cuvier and his fol-
lowers, plantigrades, that is, broad-footed. They have six
incisor, and two canine or dog teeth in each jaw, and 12
molars (grinders) in the upper, and fourteen in the lower
jaw. The incisors, or cutters, are of a pointed form, and
are hence not well fitted for cutting animal food ; the can-
ines of both jaws are large, strong, and curved backwards ;
and the molars broad, flattened, and in place of the cut-
ting edges and sharp points of those of their more ferocious
associates, are covered with tubercles of the same kind as
those in the human grinders. In fact the carniverous is
completely merged in the gramniverous character, and these
animals, notwithstanding Uieir great strength and savage na«
ture, are so far from being of a sanguinary habit, that they
derive the chief portion of their food; from the vegetable
I kingdom. This structure of their molars should be distinctly
borne in mind by the youthful reader, as it is of the greatest

108

INStRVCTiyS RIADIB.

importance in determining the real habits of the animals.
Thus opon a hasty inspection, he might have concluded from
the formidable size, and tearing form of the canines, that they
must of necessity belong to an animal of the most destruc-
tive propensities, and whose food was wholly flesh ; but we
•ee that the grinders, on the contrary, indicate an omniver-
om habit, and this determines the use of the canines to be
chiefly for defence.

The old proverb, << As clumsy as a bear," very aptly de-
•eribes the looae-skinned, thick- set ungainly appearance of
the tribe. The bones are hard, and in many situations,
have thick and jagged knobs for the insertion of' the vast
moving muscles, which, throughout the whole frame, are of
prodi^ous power. The limbs are short, and their movements
quick but awkward; the feet large, with broad callous
cushions on the sole ; and the toes, five on each foot, termi-
nated with short, stout, blunt claws, and more adapted for
climbing and burrowing, than for the purpose of seizing or
rending victims, — a circumstance which beautifully accords
with the structure of the teeth. The forehead is broad, the
snout long, and cleft at the end by the nostrils, which, to-
gether with the lips are very moveable, and when drawn
back so as to uncover the canine teeth, give to the head a
most savage and malicious expression. The tail is ao small
that American bear-hunters, at the death of their victim,
often joke Europeans, by asking them to take hold of it,
believing that it is not to be found by a stranger. The skin
is very loose, and thickly covered with hair, mostly of a
shaggy texture, and which, in the European speices, is of a
brown colour; in the American black; in the Asiatic,
yellowish white and ruddy brown ; and in the Polar bear,
white. The bear, as its low forehead and small-sized braio
indicate, possesses no greater intelligence than the degree of
ihallow instinctive cunning, necessary for capturing a seal,
robbing a bee's nest, defending its young, or avoi£n| the
footsteps of a hungry lion. The senses of the bear are
itrong and admirably suited to his wants and pleasure!.
The eyes are small, but strong, and ao placed as to embrace
a l!aife circle of vision ; the ean of a moderate tizOf rranded

INSTRVCTlVfi RSADSRj

r-"^

109

adedfrom
, that they
St deitruc-
h5 but we
i omnWcr-
iiineB to be

y aptly de-
ipearance of
f BituationB,
of tbe vast

frame, are of
r movements
road callous
,hfoot,termi-
j adapted for
I of seizing or
ifuUy accords
is broad, the
B, which, to-
when drawn
to the head a
III is so small
their viclim»
tUe hold of it,
er. The skm
ir, mostly of a
jpeices, isofa
the Asiatic,
lie Polar bear,
lall-sized brain
a the degree of
ipturing a seal,
/avoidinf the
)f the bear ate
and pleasurei.
d at to embrace

5eii»»

And pricked forward, to catch the first foot-fall of the distant
enemy. The nose is large and presents extensive surfaces
for the distribution of olfactory nerves, and as might thus
naturally be expected his scent is very keen. The voice is
a melancholy and repulsive howl. The number of species
at present known, is upwards of twenty, and have mostly
been discovered within the last twenty-five years. The
bear is found in most parts of all the continents' except
Africa, where its presence is questioned.

In a state of nature bears are lonely, unsocial creatures ;
their time is exclusively spent in feeding and sleeping. They
feed on berries, roots of trees, eggs, insects, and, where it is
procurable, will invade the haunts of men, and make off
with a sheep, or pig, or any small domestic animal. They
are very active, patient of fatigue, climb trees and hills with
great facility, and, buoyed up by their fat, swim witu great
dexterity. The female usually produces two cubs at a litter,
which for the first six weeks, closely resemble young pup-
pies ; her affection for them is so great, that in defending
them she has been often known to sacrifice her own life with
incredible bravery. During the autumnal months, the bear
accumulates an immense quantity of fat. The animal thus
becomes of a most unwieldy bulk, foregoes its customary
activity, and as the winter approaches, usually retires to
some favourable shelter, and having scratched away a por-
tion of the earth, or crept into a hollow fallen tree, lies
down, and drops into a torpid slumber, which lasts till the
returning spring. Thus disposed the first snow storm covers
him equally from the chilling winds, and the inquisitive eye
of the hunter. During the winter sleep, the fat accumulated
is absorbed into the system, and supplies the heat and
nourishment necessary to existence. A most beautiful pro-
vision by Him whose goodness is over all his creatures.
The female continues in her retreat longer than the male»
I and in its security gives birth to her young, which do not
come forth till strong enough to join her perambulations.
Should any adventurous foe then attempt their capture, or
offer her any annoyance, she at once rushes on him with
Iferocity, rears upon her hind legs^ and standing erect, seizes

no INSTRUCTIVE RBADIR, ' - .

him with her fore paws, and proceeds to squeeze him to
death* Thii fatal hug, is the mode of attack common to all
bean* When the prophet Eliaha was at Bethel, be was
mocked by some ivicked <* youths out of the city,"and God ,
we are told, brought *Hvro she.bears out of the wood, and
tare forty and two of them." Her affection for her young,
and fierce valor in defending them, are noticed in several
parts of Scripture j thus Hushai opposing the council of
Ahitophel, warns Absalom that David and his warriors
were << mighty men, chafed in their minds, as a bear robbed
of her whelps in the field." And God, by his prophet
Hosea, threatening Ephraim with punishment, says, <<I
will meet them as a bear that is bereaved of her whelps."
The Syrian bear,which is the species alluded to in the Bible,
is about four feet "nd a half long, and two and a half high ;
of a yellowish white colour, hair long and harsh, resting on
woolly fur, the legs longish, and the body of a more spare
habit than most other species.

The.Polar bear is the largest of the tribe to which it be-
longs ; its fur is generally of a white colour ; its head and
neck narrower and longer than in the other species. It
dwells in the inhospitable shores of Greenland, Spitzbergen,
and the Arctic Sea ; there, among eternal snows, and float-
ing masses of ice, this tremendous animal roams in search
of food, enduring the utmost intensity of cold with perfect
impunity. This animal often attains a most extraordinary
size. One is mentioned by Captain Ross, that measured
seven feet ten inches from nose to tail, and weighed 1160
pounds. Unlike the rest of the tribe, the male Polar bear
does not appear to slumber in the winter months.

' Abridged ff out WnUyViiltor.

THE 8BCRETART BIRD.

The remarkable bird of which you are now to receive an
account, is an excellent illustration not only of the adapta-
tion of the structure of animals to their local situation and
general habits, but of the great service which, in the exer-
cise of their natural instincts, many animals confer upon

man.

INSTRUCTITfi READIR.

Ill

r«tU7 VUltor.

The Secretary bird belongs to the order rapioresy or birds
of prey, and may be considered as the representave of a fa-
mily, of v^hichi as yet, but one genns is discovered, and of
that genus but one species. For although classed by many
authors among the vultures, it has hardly one feature ia
common witlv the fiimily ; and on the other hand, it poii-
sesses characters which also alienate it fVom the eagles and
falcons* TheBandy plains of Southern Africa, interspersed
with tracts of shrubby vegetation, are the dwelling places of
this elegant bird, and its food are the deadly snake^land va>'
rious reptiles which infest a region expc<«d to the rays of a
burning sun.

When standing erect, its height is upwards of three feet ;
its bill is sharp and crooked; a row of strong black eye-
lashes, like bristles, on the upper eye-lid, protect the sight
from the glare of too strong a light; from behind the head
springs a tuft of long feathers, whence from some fancied
resemblance to pens stuck behind the (ear, has arisen its
common name ; these fdathers can be raised up at the will
of the bird, so as to form a beautiful crest; and at the bend
of the wing are two horny knobs, or blunt spurs, The legs
are of extreme length, and moderately strong; in walking,
th^ bird appears as if raised on stilts. This length of Jimb
is not only of use in enabling the bird to pass with facility
oVer loose and yielding sand, and through tangled brush-
wood, but as we shall see, operates in conjunction with its
wings as weapons of defence. From its address in destroy-
ing snakes, it is called at the Cape of Good Hope, « slang-
eater," or snake-eater ; and Dr. Sparrman states, that " it
Brst opposes one wing and then the other, to avoid the bite
of the snakb, as well as to bruise it ; it then spurns and
kicks the reptiles with great violence, or takes it in its claws
and dashes it against the ground so forcibly as often to kill
it at ^ single attempt. Dr. Solander has seen the bird thus
instantaneously destroy a snake or a tortoise. To do this
the more effectually, the secretary-bird has the power of
striking or kicking forwards with its leg, and not backwards^
so that with the blow it throws its adversary before it ;
beoce U secures the advantage of keeping its foe always in

112

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

its eye, and of being prepared to receive and parry its at«
tack. It finishes the dying struggles of its victims by
crushing the skull with its sharp and pointed bill.

Habits such as these have gained it the good-will of the
settlers and colonists, by whom it is sometimes kept tame,
mixing with the poultry on a very friendly footing, and re-
warding its masters by an incessant warfare against the
whole tribe of reptiles, rats, locusts, and large insects. In
its wild state it is by no means shy or timid, but hops leis-
urely away on its long legs; or, if pursued, runs with great
swiftness, but not readily taking to the wing. The secre-
tary-bird is not gregarious, but lives in company with its
mate alone ; its nest is built at the top of tall trees, and
sometimes shrubs. The female is said to lay two eggs as
large ai^ those of a goose, of a white colour, spotted with
reddish-brown.

The general colour of this interesting bird is a light-grey,
the quill-feathers and secondaries are black, as also the fea-
thers of the crest and thighs ; the two middle feathers of the
tail, which are double the length of the rest, are grey, be-
coming black towards their extremities, and ending in a tip
of wditp, as do the rest of the tail-feathers, which are other-
wise black. WwklyJiJitan

USEFULNESS OF WATER.

There is scarcely any thing of which we in Canada are
more wasteful than water.^ In tropical, sultry countries,
where that precious element is as scarce as it is plentiful
here, the waste of a single drop of it would be viewed with
all the abhorrence due to a positive act of criminality. In
this country, on the contrary, it may be fairly questioned
whether many do not waste as much as they use. This
great difference between the conduct Of those in different
circumstances in relation to the same article, strikingly il-
lustrates a principle we have all often heard laid down, viz :
that we never attach its full value to any thing till we have
painfully experienced the want of it

Having scarcely any lack of water, and finding it always

IMSTRVCTIVJB RBADER.

113

arry its al-
victims by

-will of the
kept tamey
ng, and re-
against the
nsects. In
It hops leis-
} with great
The secre-
anywith its
ill trees, and
two eggs as
spotted with

a light-grey,
also the fea-
athers of the
ire grey, bo-
ding in a tip
:h are other-

ng it always

at hand when we need it, we do not feel conscioiw of half
the obligations of health and comforts which we owe to it.
As a pure and refreshing beverage how valuable is it to a
great part of our population ; and it would be much better
for the health of all were it more generally and largely used
for this purpose. It is undoubtedly the chief, if not the only
beverage intended for us by nature. And it is very well
ascertained that water-drinkers are generally free from those
painful chronic complaints, which are common to those
who indulge in more exciting draughts. But besides its use
as a mere beverage, there are very few kinds of beverage
which can be prepared without its aid.

If you would have a familiar illustration of the import-
ance of water in the daily and hourly occurrences of life,
think of your obligations to it from the time of your rising in
the morning, till the hour of sleep at night, and you will find
it administering either directly or indireotly to your various
wants and habits. How great is the comfort, as well as the
healthfulness of the practice, which results to us from the
application of water to the body ! And again, the change
of very considerable portions of our raiment, is rendered
equally comfortable and salutary, iu consequence of having
been previously submitted to the process of wnshing. The
infusion of coffee, or tea, which is an essential part of the
earliest meal of many, could not be prepared without water |
neither could flour, of which your bread consists, have been
kneaded. The same thing may be said of the subsequent
meals.

Independent, however, of its value and importance,, as
directly and immediately necessary to our comfort and sub^^
sistence, its indirect and remote necessity is equally observ-
able in all that surrounds us. There is scarcely an article
of our apparel, in some p&rt of the))reparation of whic^ wa-
ter has not been necessarily employed ; in the tanning of
the leather of our boots and shoes ; in the dressing of the
material of which linen is made ; in the dying of the wool
of our warmest clothing, or of the materials of our hats.

*< Without water the china or earthen cups, out of which
we drink, could not have been turned on the lathe ; nor the

114

INSTRUCTIVE READSB.

bricki, 80 important in house-building) nor the mortar by
which they are cemented, have been formed. The ink with
which wo vrite, and the paper which receives it, could not
have been made without the use of water. The knife with
which we divide our aolid food, and the spoon which con-
veys it in a liquid form to the mouth, cp ild not have been
properly formed without the application of water during
some part of the process of making them*

"By water the medicinal properties of various vegetable
and mineral substances are extracted and rendered portable,
which could not be introduced into the animal system in a
Bolid state ; and this element itself becomes occasionally a
irost powerful medicinal instrument, by its external appli-
cation, in every one of its forms ; whether as a liquid, under
the name of the cold or warm bath, or in the form of ice,
in restraining inflammation and hemorrhage ; or lastly, in
the application of the vapour bath."

But the uses, the important and most of them indispensa-
ble uses of water, are so multifarious, that a mere enumera-
tion of them would occupy a far larger space than can be
here afforded. You have only to observe what is passing
around you to perceive its vast importance. Having once
perceived it, and reflected upon the result of your observa-
tion, you will not only more fully appreciate the value of
water, but feel more strongly the benevolence of Him to
whom we owe the abundance of it.

Compiled.

LAWS OF VEGETATION.

There are certain laws according to which plants uni-
formly grow. Those of the same species always yield
seeds alike as to shape, arrangement of parts, and essential
qualities. These seeds, too, invariably produce plants of
the same kind as those that produced them ; the ofispring
resembling their parents in their roots, stems, barks, leaves,
flowers, and physical properties^ven to the colours they
bear and the odours they send forth. The roots are ex-
tended to the places where their nourishment is to t<3 ob-
tained, into crevices of rocks, and someftmes in a very

iNSTRUCTiVB RIADER.

115

remarkable manner. A tree, growing on a high wall,
has been known to produce i root several yards long,
extending down the side of the wall into the ground at
the bottom, from whence the plant, which must other-
wise have perished, derived its nourishment. Another,
growing on one side of a wall, has been known to shoot
its roots across it to find a more favourable soil on the
opposite side. Ivy growing against a wall or a tree, sends
off roots which adhere to the neighbouring substance, in
order to give support to the weak and slender branches,
which otherwise, unable to support themselves, must fall
down. Vines, peas, and various plants vrhich are slender,
throw off tendrils to twist round any object that can afford
them aid. Others, as hops and running beans, growing
against a tree or upright stick, curl round it spindly to a
great height, and then obtain the support they need. —
And such plants as thus screw themselves around any
object for support, uniformly do so in one way, and by
no efforts can be made to go round in the other direc-
tion. Some flowei? open in the morning to receive the
sunbeams, and fold up as the evening approaches; oth-
ers do so at the distant approach of rain ; and a funnel-
shaped flower in Sumatra is called <Mhe fair-one of the
night," because it only blows at that time. Other phe-
nomenon are equally curious. Every difierent species of
vegetables has, indeed, its own peculiar laws, which it
regards in every new race, from age to age : — no old law is
(dropped, no new law appears. How amazingly, then, are
the power and wisdom of the Lawgiver ! Weekly vintor.

THE LOCUST.

<< A pitchy cloud

Of locusts warping on the eastern wind.**

•

The locust belongs to an order of insects termed orthop"
tera, that is, straight-winged, and Is nearly allied to our
grass-hopper and crickets. Like them it has hind legs, of
great length, which enable it to leap to a distance, and winga

115

IN8TRU0TIVB READER.

of considerable extent for sailing on the breeze. Its head
has been often compared to' that of a horse, and there is, in
truth, a certain resemblance. It is armed with two pair of
strong jaws, by which it can both lacerate and grind its food.
They leap like grass-hoppers, making at the same time a
hissing noise. If we take a locust and examine it, we shall
see in it, as respects its individual powers, little to dread,
and much to admire ; it is indeed a beautidil creature, and
were a few only scattered over the land, its name would not
have been a word of terror ; but it visits not in sparing
numbers, but in myriads ; and where they settle famine en-
sues. Hence the locust is justly dreaded.

*^ Onward they came, a dark continuous cloud

Of congregated myriads numberless,

The rushing of whose wings was as the sound

Of a broad river headlong in its course,

Plunged from a mountain summit ; or the roar

Of a wild ocean in the autumn storr

Shattering its billows on a shore of rocks." gontiwr.

Of all the insect plagues which have been permitted by
Providence to ravage the labour of the husbandman, and
blight the hopes of the year, bringing both famine and dis-
ease in their train, the greatest scourge is the locusts In the
eastern regions this scourge has spread at occasional and
uncertain intervals, over the whole face of a country.
Northern Africa especially, has ever been subject to the
inroads of this worst of armies ; hence the Arabians feign
the locust, as saying to Mahommet, " We are the army of
the great God."

By this small ard feeble thing, the Almighty has oAen
punished a guilty land. If we turn to. the book of Exodus,
we' shall find the earliest written account of the plague of
the locust, when God, in wrath, visited the Egyptian Pha-
raoh and his people, for their oppression of the Israelites.
Such a visitation can only be conceived by those who have
witnessed their sweeping and dreadful ravages. They com-
monly come with the east wind, and it is asserted that th^y

INSTRVCTITI RBADBR.

117

have a'government similar to bees. Solomon, however, who,
was a skilful naturalist, denies that they have any king.
When they fly, they proceed in one compact form, similar
to a disciplined army on a marchV

The Arabs eat them in a friecTstate with salt and pep-
per, as do the natives of Barbary ; and th*ey constituted a
principal part of the food of John the Baptist, and still
forms part of the food of the poor in Asia. The richest
country visited by them, almost instantly appears like a
desert ; they eat up every green thing. << Other animals,"
says Bochart, " flee away at the sight of man ; but these
animals, of their own accord attack him. Accordingly
when a cloud of locusts is coming, all persons retire into
their houses, that they may not by going abroad provoke their
rage. Nor is there the least prospect of repelling them by
any weapon, nor are they easily wounded, since by their
own lightness and smallnes of their bodies, tb^y would elude
any strokes that might be made at them : and besides, it is
justly observed by Claudian, '

<< Their native clothing fortifles the back,
And nature arms them with a coat of mail."

No places are secure from these bold invaders ; no mounds,
no bulwarks, no strong high walls, shall stop their march ;
and houses and secret chambers are infested with these
noxious creatures."

In the year 591, Italy was ravaged by an infinity army
of locusts, which being cast into the eea, produced from the
stench of their putrefaction, and also doubtless from the
famine of the land, a pestilence which carried off nearly a
million of men and beasts. *' In the Venetian territory also,
in 1478, more than 30,000 persons are said to have perished
in a famine occasioned by these terrific scourges.

<< I never saw," says Dr. Philip, << Such an exhibition of
helplessness of man, as I have seen to-day. While we
were sitting at dinner, a person came into the house quite
pale, and told us that the locusts were approaching. Every
Ace gathered blackness. I went to &e door. I looked

113

IM8TRU0TIVI EIADER.

above, and all around, and saw nothing. Look to the
ground, wai the lepl/, when I asked where they were.—
I looked and there I saw a stream of young locusts without
wings, covering the ground at the entrance of the village.
The stream was about 500 feet broad, and covering the
ground, moving at the rate of two miles an hour. In a few
minutes they covered the garden wall, some inches deep.
— The water was immediately let into the channel, in-
to which it flows, to water the garden. The stream car-
ried them away, and after floating in it about a hundred
paces, they were drowned. All hands were now at work
to keep them from the gardens, and to keep them from
crossing the streams. To examine this phenomenon more
closely, I walked about a mile and a half from the village*
following the course of the stream of locusts. Here I found
the stream extending a mile in breadth, and like a thousand
rivulets, all flowing into one common channel. It appeared
as if the dust under my feet were forming int^ life, as iC
God, when He has a controversy with the people, could
raise the very earth on which they tread in arms against
them. Man can conquer the tiger, the elephant, the lion,
and all the wild beasts of the desert— he can turn the course
uf mighty rivers — he can elude the violence of the tempest,
and chain the winds to his car — he can raise the waters in-
to clouds, and by means of steam create a power that is yet
beyond human measurement — he can play with the light-
nings, and arrest the thunders of heaven— but he is nothing
before an army of locusts. Such a scene as I have seen
this afternoon, would fill England with more consternation
than the terrific cholera. One of the people here informed
me, that he had seen a stream that continued ten days and
. nights, flowing upon his place. During that tiae every per*
son in the place was at work to preserve his garden. As
to the corn fields they were obliged to give them up. They
t/untinued to the fifth day defending the gardens. On the
evening of the fifth day, the locusts were' between five and
ten feet deep, and the mass by this time became terrible,
and literally fell in pieces over the garden walls." A de-
icription of the locust, which has never been equalled fot

INSTRUCTIVE RIADIR.

119

graphic truth and Bublimity you will find in your Biblei, in
the second chapter of the prophecy of Joel. co.piud.

THE SC0RPI01f#

Among the many objects of natural history alluded to in
the holy Scriptures, is the Scorpion, a creature with which
the natives of Syria, and the adjacent regions have ever
been well acquainted. In every age this creature has been
regarded with terror and abhorrence ; it is spread (at least
various species) throughout the hot climates, not only of
Europe, Asia, and Africa, but of America also, living among
loose stones, mouldering walls, crumbled buildings, and the
crevices of uninhabited houses. This creature, which is
the most malignant of all the insect tribes, is shaped some-
'vhat like an egg, and is very hideous in its appearance,
'i'hcse found in Europe seldom exceed four inches in length,
but in the tropical climates it is no uncommon thing to meet
them twelve inches long. This similarity in shape to an egg
illustrates the comparison our Lord draws between a scor*
pion and an egg. The animal is furnished with strong,
hard jagged claws, with which it seizes its prey ; but this is
not the circumstance which renders it so terrible, it is the
possession of a sting. The sting, which is somewhat hooked,
and very sharp, terminates the last joint of the tail, and in-
stils into the wound it inflicts, a poisonous fluid through two
minute orifices, having in this respect considerable analogy
with the poison-fang of the rattle-snake, or other venomous
serpent The tail is composed of six joints, or distinct por-
tions, and usually held in a turned position over the back,
ready for the assault; the legs are four on each sides. The
body is composed of a broad portion called the thorax, cov-
ered with a single plate, succeeded by another portion cov-
ered with seven narrow pieces, overiapping each other like
the plates of ancient coats-of-mail. The eyes are very
curiously situated, and I doubt if you could discover them
were they not pointed out to you. On the broad plate of
the thorax, which is grooved down the middle, are situated
eight eyes. Two in the middle, on each side of the furrow,

INBTRUOTIVf RIAOfR. i

and three very small, at the forward angle or projection
which this plate makes, on each aide. They are covered
with a transparent horny case, like a minute watch-glass,
80 as to be defended from injury. The food of the scor-
pion consists of insects, such as beetles and larvee, which
it seizes with its claws, (which proceed from its head) then
destroys with its sting, and lastly crushes, by passing grad-
ually betweeiT the claws, in order to prepare it for being
devoured. The lion and tiger regard their young with fond
complacency — not so the scorpion ; it is more ferocious and
malignant than these daring but noble animals, sparing
neither its own young,which it kills and devours with avid-
ity, nor the smaller and feebler of its own species ; selfish
and unnatural cruelty seems to be its innate characteristics.
In Europe its venom is seldom fatal except to the smaller
animals ; but in hotter regions, more serious consequences,
and even death, are occasioned by its sting. <* The sting
of certain kinds common in South America, causes fevers,
numbness in various parts of the body, tumours in the
tongue, and dimness in sight, which symptoms last from 24
to 48 hours. The only means of saving the British soldiers
who were stung by them in Egypt, was amputation. One
species is said to occasion madness, and the black scorpion^
both of South America and Ceylon, often inflicts a mortal
wound." <* All this will shew what force there is in that
expression, a *^ lash of scorpions." " Gould you see," say
Kirby aad Spence, ** one of these ferocious animals per-
haps a foot in length, advancing towards you in their usual
menacing attitude, with its claws expanded, and its many-
jointed tail turned over its head, were you ever so stouts
hearted, I think you would start back and feel a horror
come across you ; and though you knew not the animal,
you would conclude that such an aspect of malignity must
be the precursor of malignant effects. Nor would you b&

mistaken. Altered Arom WMkly Tiljto^

THR FOLLY OF ATHEISM, SHEWN FROM MATURE.

n^ The meanest insect we can see, the minutest and moal
contemptible weed we can tread upon, is really sufficient

llfSTRVCTIVI RSADIII*

121

projection
re covered
Itch-glass,
; the scor-
vffi) which
head) then
98ing grad-
; for being
; with fond
'ocious and
Is, sparing
with avid-
68 ; selfish
-acteristics.
the smaller
isequences,
« The sting
uses fevers,
mrs in the
kst from 24t
ish soldiers
tion. One
(k scorpion,
8 a mortal
3 is in that

see," say
kimals per-
Itheir usual

its many-
Ir so stout"
)el a horror

le animal,
rnity must

Id you be

leckly Tilit«^

to confound atheiim and bafile all iti pretentioni« How
much more that astonishing variety and multiplicitv of God's
works, with which we are continually sunounded I Let
any man survey the face of the earth, or lift up hii eyes to
the firmament ; let him consider the nature and instinct of
brute animals ; afterwards look into the operations of his own
mind ; will he presume to say, or to suppose, that all the
objects he meets with are nothing more than the result of
unaccountable accidents and blind chance t Can be pos-
sibly conceive that such wonderful order should spring out
of confusion? or that such perfect beauty should be ever
formed by the chance operations of unconscious, inactive
particles of matter 1 As well, nay, better^ and more easily,
might he suppose that an earthquake might happen to build
towns and cities j or the materials carried down by a flood
fit themselves up with hands into a regular fleet. For what
are towns, cities, or fleets, in comparison of the vast and
amazing fabric of the universe I d,. saiiuy.

Bishop Watson justly remarks, that ** the argument for
the existence of God, which is drawn from a contemplation
of nature, is so clear and so strong, that the most ignorant
can com[)rehend it, and the most learned cannot invent a
better."

To study God, God's student, man, was made ;
To read him as in Nature's text conveyed.
Not as in heaven ; but as he did descend
To earth, his easier book j where to suspend
And save, his miracles, each little flower.
And lesser fly, shows his familiar power !

Sir Wi Davtntab

[tand moil
Bufficienl

SECTION III.

DESCRIPTION OF PLAGES, MANNERS, &C.

MOUNT ETNA.

This single mountain contains an epitome of the different
climates throughout the world, presenting at once all the
seasons of the year, and all the varieties of produce. It is
divided into three distinct zones or regions, which are known
bj the names of the cultivated region, the woody or temper*
ate region, and the frigid or desert region. The former of
these extends through twelve miles of the ascent towards
the summit, and is almost incredibly abundant in pastures
and fruit-trees of every description. It is covered with
towns, villages and monastries ; and the number of inhabi-
tants distributed over its surface is estimated at 120,000. In
ascending to the woody or temperate region, the scene
changes ; it is a new climate, a new creation. Below, the
heat is suffocating ; but here the air is mild and fresh. The
turf is covered with aromatic plants ; and gulfs, which for-
merly ejected torrents of fire, are changed into woody val-
leys. The last, or desert region, commences more than a
mile above the level of the sea. The lower part is covered
with snow in winter only; but on the upper half of this
sterile district the snow constantly lies. On the vastness and
beauty of the prospect from the summit of Etna, all authors
agree. Mr. Houel was stationed there at sunrise, when the
horizon was clear, and without a single cloud. The coast
of Calabria was, he says, undistlnguishable from the adjoin-
ing sea ; but in a short time a fiery radiance began to
appear from behind those Italian hills which bounded the
eastern part of the prospect. The fleecy clouds, which
generally appear eariy in the morning, were tinged with pur-
ple ; the atmosphere became strongly illuminated, and, re-
flecting the rays of the sun, seemed to be filled with a bright
rafulgence of flame. Although the heavens were thus

INSTRUCTIVE RSADSR.

123

enlightened, the sea still retained its dark azure, and the
fields and forests did not yet reflect the rays of the sun.
The gradual rising, however, of this luminary, soon difitised
light over the hills vtrhich lie below the peak of Etna* Thi«
last stood like an island in the midst of the ocean with
luminous points multiplying every moment around, and
spreading over a wider extent with the greatest rapidity.
It was, said he, as if the world had been observed suddenly
to spring from the night of non-existence. The most sut>>
lime object, however, which the summit of Etna presents,
is the immense mass of its own colossal body. Its upper
region exhibits rough and craggy cliflEs, rising perpojodicularly^
fearful to the view, and surrounded by an assemblage of
fugitive clouds, to encrease the wild variety of the scene.
Amid the multitude of woods in the middle or temperate
region are numerous mountains, which in any other situa*
tion, would appear of gigantic size, but which, compared to
Etna, are mere mole hills. Lastly the eye contemplates
with admiration the lower region, the most extensive of the
three, adorned with elegant villas and castles, verdant hills^
and flowing fields, and terminated by the extensive coast,
where, tathe south, 'stands the beautiful city of Catania, to
which the waves of the neighbouring sea serve as a mirror.

'^ Clarke'f MTendorf of the Worid.

SWEDISH PEASANTS.

Our journey to Stockholm has been through a country
wilder than you can imagine ; vast lakes, high mountains,
dismal forests : from which, at every opening, I-dreaded to
see bears, or wolves rush out upon us. Scarcely a town to be
seen ; a single cottage was quite a rarity ; and then our
fare has been so hard, I was almost afraid of being starved.
The first night we slept in a peasant's hut, built . upov a
barren rock, and surrounded on every side by the thickest
woods. We could get nothing to eat, but sal^d meat and
Swedish bread. Oh ! what bread I I wish you could taste
it. They bake but twice a year, and the cakes are so hard,
they are sometimes obliged to chop them with a hatchet.

j-^^r

124

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

They do not make loaves, but large round cakes, which (hey
pile upon sticks, and then hang them up to the ceiling ; they
are made of rye and oats, and in times of scarcity (which I
suppose must often happen here), they mix the inner bark
of trees, rasped to powder, with the flour ; which makes the
bread so black and so bitter, that nothing but hunger could
induce one to eat The houses are generally built of wood,
and pointed red ; but the cottages are formed of logs piled
one above another, and the roofs are covered with turf,
upon which I have often seen goats browzing. We have
frequently been obliged to lodge in these hovels ; so I have
had an opportunity of seeing how the country people live.
Their beds are the drollest things I ever beheld. To save
room, they are placed one above another ; the women sleep
in that on the floor, and the men in one which is fixed above
the top of the tester ; they are obliged to get into it by the
help of a ladder. But, though these people are so very
poor, they are civil and ingenious. They contrive to make
useful things of what we should fling away as worth nothing.
They twist ropes from hogs' bristles, horses' manes, an(t the
bark of trees ; and they use eel-skins for bridles. The
coarse cloth they wear is of their own making ; we mostly
found the wives and daughters busied in carding, spinning,
•r weaving. The women do every thing here, that men
are employed about in other countries ; they sow, plough,
thrash, and work with the brick-layers. They all wear
veils, the country people as well as the ladies, to shade their
eyes from the glare of the snow in winter, and in summer
from the scorching rays of the sun, reflected from the barren
rocks.

Wak:fle:<t>

THE LLANOS, OR PLAINS OF SOUTH AMERICA.

There is something awful, but nad and gloomy, in the
uniform aspect of these steppes. Everythi ng seems motion-
less. Scarcely does a small cloud, passing across the zenith,
cast its shadow on the savanna. I know not whether the
first aspect of the Llanos excites less astonishment than that
of the Andes. Mountainous countries, whatever may bo

lMITRVGTlir< miADlRi

135

the absolute elevation of the hfgheat wmmitt, have all man j
characteristici iomewhat common to them all; but vre
accustom ounelves with difficulty to the view of the Lhnot
of Venezeula, and Casnare, the Pampas of Buenos Ayresy
and Choco, which continually recall to mind during jouroies
of 20 or 30 days, the smooth surface of the ocean. I had seei&
the plains of La Mancha in Spnin, and the real steppes that
extend from Jutland, through Luneberge and Westphalia,
to Belgium ; but the plains of west and north of Europe
present but a feeble image of the Llanos of South America.
All around us the plains seemed to ascend towards the sky ;
and that vast and profound solitude appeared like an ocean
covered with sea-weeds. According to the unequal mass
)f vapours difiused through the atmosphere, and the various
cemperatures of the different strata of air, the horizon was
in some parts clear and distinct, in other parts, undulating,
and as if striped. The earth was there confounded with
the sky. Through the dry fog and strata of vapour, the
trunks of palm-trees were discerned at a great distance.
Stripped of their foliage and their verdant tops, these trunks
appear like the masts of ships discovered at the horizon.

The Llanos and Pampas of South America are real
steppes. They display a beautiful vefdure in the rainy sea-
son, but in the time of great drought assume the aspect of a
desert. The grass is then reduced to powder, the earth
cracks, the alligator and the great serpents remain buried in
the dried mud, till awakened from their lazy lethargy by the
first shower of spring. These phenomena are observed on
barren tracts of 50 or 60 leagues in length, wherever the
the savannas are not traversed by rivers ; for, on the borders
of rivulets, and around little stagnant pools of water, the
traveller finds at certain distances, even during the period of
great droughts, thickets of mauritia — a palm, the leaves of
which spread out like a fan, preserve a brilliant verdure.

The chief characteristic of the savannas, or steppes, of
South America, is the absolute want of hills and inequalities
—the perfect level of every part of the soil. Accordingly
the Spanish conquerors, who first penetrated from Core to
the banks of the Apure^ did not call them desertsi or savan-

12d

IlflTRVOTITB RlADia*

nai|.or meadows, but plains, Llanos, Often in a space of
30 square leagues, these is not an eminence pf a foot bigh^
This resemblance to the surface of the sea strikes the imagi-
nation most powerfully, where the plainr are altogether
destitute of palm-trees, and where the mountains of ihe
shore and of the Oronoco are so distant thbt they cannot be
seen.

Baabo!!

THE RUINS OF HERCULANEUM.

An inexhaustible mine of ancient curlositieE exists in the
ruins of Herculaneum, a city lying between Naples and
Mount Vesuvius, which, in the first years of the reign of
Titus^ twas overwhelmed by a stream of lava from the
neighbouring volcano. This lava is now of a consistency
which renders it extremely difficult to be removed ; being
composed of bituminous particles, mixed with cinders, min-
erals, and vitrified substancen, which altogether forni.a close
and ponderous mass.

In the revolution of many ages, the spot it stood upon
v^s entirely forgotten ; but in the year 1713 it was acci-
dentally discovered by seme labourers, who, in digging a
well, struck upon a statue on the benches of the theatre.
Several curiosities were dug out and sent to France, but the
search was soon discontinued, and Herculaneum remained
in obscurity till the year 1736, when the King of Naples
employed men to dig perpendicularly 80 feet deep ; where-
upon not only the city made its appearance, but also the
bed of the river which ran through it.

In the temple of Jupiter were found a statue of gold, and
the inscription that decorated the great doors of the entrance.
Many curiovs appendages of opulehce and luxury have
nnce been discovered in various parts of the city, and were
arranged in a wing of the palace of Naples, among which
are statues, busts, and altars ; domestic, musical, and sur-
gical instruments f tripods, mirrors of polished metal, silver
kettles, and a lady's toilet, furnished with combs, thimbles,
rinfi, ear-rinss, &c.

A laige quantity of manuscripts was also found among

INITRUOTIVS MADKR.

137

the ruins ; and verjr sanguine hopes were entertained hj
the learnedy that mieiny works of the ancients would be re-
stored to light, and that a new mine of science wae on the
eve of being opened ; but the difficulty of unrolling the
burnt parchments, and of decyphering the obscure letters,
has proved such an obstacle, that very little progress has
been made in the work.

The streets of Herculaneum seem to have been perfectly
straight and regular; the houses well built and generally
uniform ; and the rooms paved either with large Roman
bricks, mosaic work, or fine marble. It appears that the
town was not filled up so unexpectedly with the melted la-
va as to prevent the greatest part of the inhabitants from
escaping with their richest effects ; for there were not more
than a dozen skeletons found, and but little gold or precious
stones.

The town of Pompeii was involved in the same dreadful
catastrophe, but was not discovered till neur ^orty years af-
ter the discovery of Herculaneum. Few skeletons were
found in the streets of Pompeii ; but in the houses there
were many, in situations which plainly proved that they
were endeavouring to escape when the tremendous show-
ers of ashes intercepted their retreat.

Koto^M.

The shroud of yeara thrown back, thou dost revive,
Half raised, half-buried, dead, yet still alive !
Gathering the world around thee, to admire
Thy disinterment, and with hearts on fire,
To catch the form and fashion of the time
When Pliny lived and thou wert in thy prime ;
So strange thy resurreclion, it may seem
Less waking life than a distressful dream.

Hushed is this once-gay scene, nor murmurs more
The city's din, the crowd's tumultuous roar.
The laugh convivial, and the chiming sound
Of golden goblets with Falernian crown'd;

128

INBTRVOTIYl BIASIR*

The mellow breathinn of the Lydian flute^

And the sweet drip of fonntains as they shoot

From marble basements — these, all these are mute.

Closed are her springs, unnumbered fathoms deep.

Her splendid domes are one dismantled heap,

Her temples soiled, her statues in the dust.

Her tarnished medals long devoured by rust ;

Its rainbow-pavements broken from the bath,

The once-thronged Forum — an untrodden path ;

The fanes of love — forgotten cells ; the shrines

Of vaunted gods — inurned in sulphur mines,

The abodes of art, of luxury, and taste —

Tombs of their once-glad residents — a waste,

O'er which compassionate years have gradual thrown.

The trailing vine, and bad the myrtle moan.

Lyric*) Gtn»

LAPLANDERS.

A Laplander might be known any where from the inha-
bitants of more temperate climates, by his £.hort, squat fi-
gure, larg^ head, flat face, and small dark^-grey eyes. Their
summer-dress is made of dark coarse cloth ; but in Vinter
their breeches, coats, shoes, and gloves, are made of the
skins of the rein-deer, with the hair outwards. What a
droll sight must a Lapland woman be, equipped in this
manner ! for they dress like the men, except a small apron
of painted cloth, and a few more rings and trinkets. They
are, notwithstanding, fond of finery, and contrive to em-
broider their awkward clothes with brass- wire, silver, or
coloured wool, which they are skilled in dying of various
hues. In winter they are glad to eat dried fish, or the flesh
of any animal they can catch; but they never think of
either roasting or boiling it, they devour it raw. The eggs
of wild-geese, and other water-fowl, which breed in prodi-
gious numbers on the borderti of the lakes, supply them with
food in the spring ; and when the breeding season is over,
they live upon the birds. Some of the people are maintain-
ed wholly by fishing ; whilst others are employed in tend-
ing their flocks of rein-deer, and wander about the rooua-

IMBTRUOTITl RKADIR.

129

tains from place to place. They live in tents of coarse
cloth, which they carry about with them, and pitch for a
short time wherever it suits their convenience. But the
fishermen build villages, such as they are, near some lake.
When they want to maice a hut, they taise large poles, or
the bodies of trees, and place them slanting in the ground,
in the form of a circle, so that they meet at top, except a
small opening, which is left for the smolie to pass through.
Instead of a carpet, they cover the ground with branches of
trees ; and the door is made of rein-deer skins Jke two cur-
tains. During several months in winter these poor people
sever see the sun ; but the beautiful Aurora Borealis, (or
itreamersf or northern 'lights^ as it is sometimes called) and
the reflection of the l <v, to a certain degree make them
amends. Of what use would a carriage be to a Laplander,
when he travels over deserts of snow ? The wheels would
be presently clogged up, and he coulJ proceed no further.
Therefore, if he has a little way to go, he puts on his snow-
shoes, which are made very long, to keep him from sink-
ing. But if he has occasion to go to a distance, he harness-
es his rein-deer to a sledge, made in the form of a boat ;
and, after whispering something to the animal, which he is
80 foolish as to suppose it understands, he seats himself on
the sledge, and is carried away with surprising swiftness. —
In spite of the cold, the absence of the sun, and the bar-
renness of the soil, the Laplander loves his own country
better than any other ; and prefers his hut and his rein-deer

to the conveniences of more civilized nations. w»k«fi«u

v/-

They ask no more than simple nature gives,
They love their mountains, and enjoy their storms.
Their rein-deer form their riches. These, their tentSi
Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth
Supply their wholesome fare and cheerful cups.
Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe
Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift
0*er hill and dale, heaped into one expanse
Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep,
With a blue crust of ice unboundedj (lawd.

130

INlTRUOTIfB MADIA.

By dancing metoora, then, that ceaselen shaks
A wavins blaze, refracted o'er the heavens.
And vivid moons, and stars that keener play
With double lustre from the glassy waste.
Even in the depth of polar night, they find
A wondrous day : enough to light the chase^
Or guide their daring steps to Finland fairs.
Wished Spring returns, and from the hazy south,
'While dim Aurora slowly moves before.
The welcome sun, just verging up at first.
By small degrees extends the swelling curve,
Till seen at large for gay rejoicing months,
Still round and round his spiral course he winds,
And as he nearly dips his flaming orb.
Wheels up again, and reascends the sky.

TkOM«k

SOBNBRT Of THB APURI.

If we were surprised, delighted, and sometimes intimida-
ted by our near approach to the various creatures both by
land and water ; if we gazed with admiration on the beau-
tiful plumage of the birds as we passed up the Oronoco,
how much wonder, astonishment and terror, joined wiUi a
certain degree of pleasure at seeing the inhabitants on the
A pure increasing as it were, an hundred-fold in numerical
proportion to what we had before seen or imagined 1 I
should dread to describe what I saw and heard, were it not
that all my companions could vouch for my accuracy.-—
Crocodiles, fourteen and sixteen feet long, were basking on
the sedges near the banks of the river, in groups of six or
eight ; every minute others were seen floating down the
stream, many of which the men struck with the oara of
the boat, and others were apparently wounded with ball,
fired from pistols or musketsj but none materially injured.
Tigers of a very large size were visible on the sands, and a
larger animal once, which the men conceived to be a lion,
but which was probably a variety of the leopard, as the
king of the forest is unknown in this clime.

The numerous flocks of birds, flying from side to side of

INfTRUCTlTI RBASIll*

181

of the river, and paistng over our headf , were almoit too
many to count, and some of the flocke lo prodigioni, aa ab^
aolutely to shade, during the interval of their paaaage, the
rays of the aun. The shores of the river were lined with
every sort of marine and tropical birds; all of which, as if
unconacioua of the approach or power of man, suffered ua to
look at and pass them unheeded, from the large pelican
down to the smallest genus of the crane. Here the flirn*
ingo was seen in all its stateliness and grandeur. The crown-
crane was also perceptible, and a bird of the same genus aa
the crane, although far more beautiful in symmetry and
appearance, which I had frequently seen in South Africa,
where it is called the secretary. What with birds, beasts,
amphibious animala, fish and reptiles, the eye was at length
tired with the everlasting succession, and the mind could
wonder no longer. The mocking-bird, a native of these
immense forests, gave me decisive proof of its powers of
utterance, and, its capability of articulating two or more
syllables with astonishing clearness. To none of the parrot
tribe do I yield a preference ; nor did I ever hear one of
them repeat words, and pronounce them so distinctly aa to
create a doubt whether or not they were uttered by the voice
of man. rngfuits't vm^nn.

THE PYRAMIDS OF EGTPT.

We were roused so soon aa the sun dawned, by Anthonyi
our faithful Greek servJint and interpreter, with the intelli-
gence that the pyramids were in view. We hastened from
the cabin ; and never will the impression made by their
appearance be obliterated. By reflecting the suu's rays,
they appear as white as snow, and of such surprising mag-
nitude, that nothing we had freq ^ntly conceived in our
imagination had prepared us for the spectacle we beheld.

The sight instantly convinced ua, that no power of de-
acription, no delineation can convey ideas adequate to the
effect produced by viewing theae stupendoua mountu.fl8.
The formality of their construction Is lost in their prodi-
gioua magnitude ; the mind, elevated by wonder, feels at

INITRUOTtVB RIADlIt*

onoe the force of an axiom, which, however disputed, ex«
perience confirms, that in vastness, whatever be its nature,
there dwells sublimity. Another proof of their indescrib-
able power is, that no one ever approached them under other
emotions than those of terror. « « * « «
With what amazement did we survey the vast surface that
was presented to us when we arrived at this stupendous
monument, which seemed to reach the clouds. Here and
there appeared some Arab guides upon the immense masses
above us, like so many pigmies, waiting to show the way
to the summit. Now and then we thought we heard voices
and listened ; but it was the wind in powerful gusts sweeping
the immense ranges of stone. Already some of our party
had begun the ascent, and were pausing at the tremendous
depth which they saw below. One of our military com-
panions, after having surmounted the most difficult part of
the undertaking, became giddy in consequence of looking
down from the elevation he had attained ; and being com-
pelled to abandon the project, he hired an Arab to assist
him in effecting his descent. The rest of us, more accustom-
ed to the business of climbing heights, with many a halt for
respiration, and many exclamations of wonder, pursued our
way towards the summit. The mode of ascent has been
frequently described ; and yet, from the questions which are
of\en proposed to travellers, it does nol^ appear to be gene-
rally understood. The reader may imagine himself to be
upon a staircase, every step of which to a man of middle
stature, is nearly breast high, and the breadth of each step
is equal to its height, consequently, the footing is secure;
and, al hough a retrospect going up, be somewhat fearful to
persons unaccustomed to look down from any considerable
elevation, yet there is little danger of falling. In some
places, indeed, where the stones are decayed, caution may
be required ; and an Arab guide is always necessary, to
avoid a total interruption ; but, upon the whole, the means
of ascent are such that almost every one mayacsoroplish it.
Our progress was impeded by other causes. We carried
with us a few instruments, such as our boat-compass, a
thermometer, a telescope, &c. ; these could not be trusted in

IlflTRUOTITI READBll.

13$

putedi t%*
iti naturey
indeacrib-
inder other

jrface that
itupendous
Here and
nse liiasseB
V the way
>ard voicei
8 sweeping
f our party
xemendous
litary com-
cult part of
of looking
being com-
lb to assist
accQstom-
a halt for
ursued our
t has been
which are
[o be gene-
nself to be
of middle
f each step
; is secure;
t fearful to
onsiderable
In some
aution may
icessary, to
the means
oroplish it.
We carried
sompass, a
trusted in

the hand of the Arabs, and they were liable to be broken
every instant. At length we reached the topmost tier, ^o
the peat delight and satisfaction of all the part^. Here we
found a platform, thirty-two feet square, consisting of nine
large stones, each of which might weigh about a ton ;
although they are much inferior in size to some of the stones
used in the construction of this pyramid. Travellers of all
ages, and of various nations, have here inserted their names.
Some are written in Greek, many in French, a few in
Arabic, one or two m Ennlish, and others in Latin. We
were as desirous as our predecessors to leave a memorial of
our arrival ; it seemed to be a tribute of thankfulness due
for the success of our undertaking ; and presently every one
of our party was seen busied m adding the inscription of his
name.

FALLS OF NIAGARA.

Dr. E. D. Clarke.

The form of the Niagara Falls is that of an irregular
semi-circle, about three-quarters of a mile in extent. This
is divided into two distinct cascades, by the intervention of
Goat Island, the extremity of which is perpendicular, and
in a line with a precipice over which the water is projected.
The cataract on the Canada side of the river is called the
Horse-shoe, or Great Fall, from its peculiar form — and that
next the United States the American Fall.

The Table Rock, from which the Falls of the Niagara
may be contemplated in all their grandeur, lies on an exact
level with the edge of the cataract on the Canada side, and,
indeed, forms a part of the precipice over which the water
gushes. It derives its name from the circumstance of its
projecting beyond the cliffs that support it, like theleaf of a
table. At this point a magnificent amphitheatre of catar-
acts burst upon my view, with appalling suddenness and
majesty. However, in a moment the scene was concealed
from my eyes by a dense cloud of spray, which involved
me so completely, that I did not dare to extricate myself.
A mingled and thundering rushing filled my ears. I could
see nothing except when the wind made a chasm in the
spray, and then tremendous cataracts seemed to encompass

184

IMfTRVOTIVB AIADIR.

me on every iide ; while below, a raging and foaming gulf
of undiicoverable extent lathed the rocki with its hiuing
wavet, and swallowed, under a horrible obscurity, the
emoking floods that were precipitated into its bosom. At
first the sky was obscured by clouds, but after a few min-
utes the sun burst forth, and the breeze subsiding at the
same time, permitted the spray to ascend perpendicularly.
A host of pyramidal clouds rose majestically one al\er ano-
ther from the abyss at the bottom of the fall ; and each,
when it had ascended a little above the edge of the cata-
ract, displayed a beautiful rainbow, which in a few min-
utes was gradually transferred into the bosom of the cloud
that immediately succeeded. The spray of the Great Fall
had extended itself through a wide space directly over me,
and, receiving the full influence of the sun, exhibited a lumi-
nous and magnificent rainbow, which continued to over-arch
and irradiate the spot on which I stood, while I enthusiasti-
calhr contemplated the indescribable scene.

The body of water which composes the middle part of
the Great Fall is so immense, that it descends nearly two-
thirds of the space without being ruffled or broken, and the
solemn calmness with which it rolls over the edge of the
precipice is finely contrasted with the perturbed appear-
ance it assumes after having reached the gulf below. But
the water towards each side of the Fall is shattered the mo-
ment it drops over the rock, and loses as it descends, in a
great measure, the character of a fluid, being divided into
pyramidal-shaped fragments, the bases of which are turned
upwards. The surface of the gulf below, and the cataract
presents a very singular aspect ; seeming as it were, filled
with an immense quantity of hoar frost, which is agitated
by small and rapid undulations. The particles of water are
dazzlingly white, and do not apparently unite together, as
might ^ supposed, but seem to continue for a time in a
state of distinct comminution, and to repel each other with
a thrilling and shivering motion, which cannot easily be
described. p,^^

llftTRUOtlVl RIADIH. 135

RirLIOTlOffl on THI FALLS Of RIAOAIA.

The thoughts sre strange that crowd into mj brain
When I look upward to thee. It would seem
As if God poured thee from his « hollow hand,"
And hung his bow upon thine awful front ;
And spoke in that loud voice, which seemed to him
Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour'i sake,
" The sound of many waters," and hud bade
Thy fluid to chronicle the ases back,
And notch his centuries in tne eternal rocks.
Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we,
That hear the question of that voice sublime 1
Oh I what are all the notes that ever rung
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering S'ce {
Yea what is all the riot that man makes
In his short life, to thy unceasing roar !
And yet, bold bauble, what art thou to Him,
Who drowned a worid, and heaped the waters far
Above its loftiest mountains t — a light wave^
That breaks, and whispers of its Maker's might.

Br»iMr4

SGTPTIAlf MUMMIES AMD EMBALMISM.

When any Egyptian died, the whole of his family, and all
his friends, laid aside their usual cit :!&>, and put on mourning,
abstaining during the period of lainentation from the bath,
and from the use of wine and other luxuries. The mourn-
ing lasted forty or seventy days, probably according to the
quality of the person. They seem to have had a notion
that a time would come when the soul would be reunited to
the body on earth, and so they endeavoured to preserve
the body as a fit residence for its future guest. This was
done by embalming, which was performed in three different
ways ; and accordingly there were three different scales of
funerals, costly, moderate or cheap. It is supposed that it
would require considerably over 1000 dollars to pay for the
best style of embalming a body ; for the second rate neariy
300 ; and for the third, or cheap method, a trifling sum was
demanded. Thus the various classes of people may bt

136

IN8TRUCTXT£ RBADBS.

il-

generally distingu'iBhed by the mode of their preservation.
These embalmed bodies are what are now called mummies,
and which are still found in Egypt, and carried by the curi-
ous into other countries.

Among the Egyptians were a set of persons, who, like
modern undertaken, took upon themselves the whole service
of the funeral for a stipulated amount. Proper officers were
then employed to perform their respective duties. The duty
of the first was to mark out how the dissection was to be
made in the dead body for the purpose of embalming; this
was executed by another officer with a sharp Ethiopian
stone, which served the purpose of a knife ; and the task
as seeming to imply disrespect and cruelty to the dead, was
so hateful and degrading as to oblige the dissector instantly
to fly as if he had committed a crime, those about pursuing
and assailing him with stones ; — a superstitious practice, by
which they probably thought to make amends for an act
they thought sinful in itself

At the disappearance of the dissector the embalmers came
forward. They were a sort of distinct class hereditary in
Egypt, were here held in high respect, looked upon as sa-
cred, ftnd permitted to have access to the temples, and to
associate with the priests. They removed from the body
(by the cuts made by the dissectors) the parts most suscep-
tible of decay, washing the rest with palm wine, and filling
it with myrrh, cinnamon, and various sorts of spices. After
this the body was put into salt for about forty days. It was
then swathed in a fine lawn bandage, glued together with a
thin but powerful gum, and then crusted over with the
most exquisite perfumes. By these means not only was the
fignreof the body entirely preserved, but the lineaments of
the face, and even the eye-brows and eye^lashes were pre-
served in their natural perfection. In this state some of the
Egyptians kept the bodies of their ancestors, in open cases,
with glasses before them. They were thus set upright
commonly in niches in the walls for that purpose. Others
were placed in the same way in sepulchres. — It is always
valuable and interesting to perceive ancient customs, as
handed down by general historians, illustrating the inspired

INSTRUOTITf READIR*

137

records of Holy Writ. In the book of Genesis we read that
(^Joseph commanded his servants the physicians, to embalm
his father ; and the physicians embalmed IsraeU And Sofiy
days were iulfilled for him ; for so are fulfilled the days of
those which are embalmed ; and the Egyptians mourned for
him three score and ten days." In this passage the (brty
days said to be fulfilled, mean the days of his continuing in
the salt of nitre, without including the thirty days passed in
performing the above-mentioned ceremonies, and making
up the three-score and ten during which they mourned.

There is considerable difference of appearance in the
cases or coffins which contain mummies. These were
usually made of sycamore ; some of the large cases contain
others within them, either of wood or painted plaster. The
bodies of the priests were more particularly folded in the
swathing cloth than those of others. Their arms and lege
were not enclosed in the same envelope with the body, as
in the common mode, but were bandaged separately, even
the fingers and toes being thus preserved distinct.— Belzoni,
a celebrated traveller who explored the interior of the
pyramids and furnished much new information about these
curious practices, entered tombs which contained the mum-
mies of inferior creatures (mingled with those of human
beings), such as bulls, monkeys, dogs, rats, crocodiles and
birds ; and one tomb was filled with nothing but cats, care-
fully folded, in red and white linen, the head covered by a
mask representing the cat within. This animal was held
by these idolaters sacred ; and if one was killed, either de-
signedly or by accident, the unfortunate oflender was punish-
ed with death. They must, you may thus judg?, have had
plenty of these animals. In a city of Egypt, Tn the reign of
Tiberius, 7000 Romans were killed by the Egyptians, in a
tumult, because a Roman soldier had killed — a cat !

DESCRIPTION OF A PRISON IN AMERICA.

Conjriitil

We visited the Penitentiary, or State Prison, at a place
called Sing Sing, on the east bank of the Hudson River, at
the distance of thirty miles from New York. I have ye%

■¥»

13»

IMBTRCCTIVI RBADIH.

■een nothing in any part of the world, in the way of priff*
ens, which appeared to be better managed than this estab-
lishment. 1 had been told, in a general way, that several
hundred convicts were employed at this spot, in the con-
struction of a prison, in which they themselves were event-
ually to be confined ; but I could scarcely credit the accounts
which described the degree of order and subordination main-
tained among a set of the most hardened ruffians anywhere
to be found. Accordingly, although prepared in some de-
gree, my astonishment was great, when I approached the
spotj and saw only two sentinels placed along the height,
from whence I looked down upon two hundred convicts at
work. Some of them were labouring in a large marble
quarry, others in long wooden sheds surrounding the spot,
and some were engaged in various parts of the new prison,
an extensive stone building, running parallel to the river,
about one-third of which had been finished, and made ha-
bitable. There was an air of confident authority about all
the arrangements of this place, which gave us a feeling of
perfect security, though we were walking about unarmed
amongst cut-throats and viliians of all sorts. There was
something extremely imposing in the profound silence with
which every part of the work of theee people was perform-
ed. During several hours that we continued amongst
them, we did 'not hear even a whisper, nor could we de-
tect, in a single instance, a change of looks amongst the
convicts, or what was still more curious, a side-long glance
at the strangers. Silence, in fact, is the essential, or I may
call it, the vital principle of this singular discipline. When
to this are added unceasing labour during certain appointed
hours, rigorous seclusion during the rest of the day, and ab-
solute solitude all night, there appears to be formed one of
the most efficacious combinations of moral machinery that
has ever perhaps been seen in action. The whole secret of
the astonishing success of this plan lie's in preventing the
prisoners from holding any kind of communication with
each other, however slight and transient. Each prisoner,
accordingly, has a separate sleeping place, seven feet in
length, seven high, and three and a half wide, built of solid

IN8TRVCT1TI RIADBR.

ISf

ly of pri»-
this estab-*
lat several
n the con-
irere evert-
le accounts
ation main-
I anywhere
n some de-
oached the
the height,
convicts at
rge marble
ig the spot,
new prison,
) the river,
d made ha-
ly &bout all
a feeling of
ji unarmed
There was
silence with
as perform -
id amongst
luld we de*
mongst the
long glance
il, or I may-
ine. When
n appointed
ay, and ab-
oied one of
hinery that
ole secret of
venting the
cation with
?h prisoner,
ven feet in
luilt of solid

blocks of itone, and secured by an iron door, the upper part
of which contains orifices smaller than a man's hand. —
Through this grate a sufficient supply of air is admitted, and
as much light and heat as arc necessary. The ventilation
is made complete by a sort of chimney or air-pipe, three
inches in diameter, which extends from the upper part of
the apartment to the roof of the building. These cells, or
sleeping berths, are placed in rows of one hundred in each,
one above another, and in appearance by no means unlike
winC'bins in a cellar, only deeper, wider, and twice as high.
Each tier has in front of it a narrow gallery, just wida
enough for a man to pass, and connected at the ends with
a stair-case. As soon as the prisoners are locked up for
the night, each in his separate cell, a watchman takes his
station on the ground-floor abreast of the lower tier, or, if he
thinks fit, he may walk along the galleries, past the line of
doors. His feet being shod with mocasiits, his tread is not
heard, when he himself can hear the faintest attempt at
communication made by one prisoner to another; for the
space in front of the cells seems to be a sort of whispering
or sounding-gallery, of which fact I satisfied myself by act-
ual experiment, though I do not very well know the cause.
In this way the convicts are compelled to pass the night in
solitude and silence ; and I do not remember, in my life, to
have met before with any thing so peculiarly solemn, as the
death-like silence which reigned, even at noon-day, in one
of these prisons, though I knew that many hundreds of peo-
ple were close to me. At night the degree of silence was
really oppressive ; and, like many parts of this curious
establishment, must be witnessed in person to be duly un-
derstood.

The convicts are awakened at sunrise by a bell ; but, be-
fore they are let out, the clergyman of the establishment
prays from a station so chosen, that without effort he cart
readily make himself heard by all the prisoners on that side
of the building ; that is to say, by 400, or one half of the
number confined. The turnkeys now open the Joors, and
• word of command being given, each of the prisoners ttepa

140

IRSTRUCTIVB RSADBR.

out of hit cell into tlie gallery. They are then formed into
clow line and made to march what is called tho lock-ttepi
with their eyes turned towards theii keeper, along the paa-^
sages tc iihe Tork-shops. On leaving the building, the di&
ferent di/isions or gangs, under the several turnkeys, mako
a short halt in the outer-yard, to wash their hands and faces,
and also to deposit their tubs and water-cans, which are
taken up by another set of prisonerB, whose duty it is to at-
tend to the cleaning ddpartment of the household* Another
party of the prisoners attend to the cooking ; another to
washing clothes ; in short, the whole work is done by the '
convicts. The main body of the prisoners are then marched
to their fixed tasks ; some to hew stones, or to saw marble ;
some to forge iron ; some to weave cloth ; >^hi]e others are
employed as tailors, shoemakers, coopers, and in veriouS
other trades. Each shop is under the charge of a turnkey,
of course not a convict, but a man of character, and known
to be trust-worthy, who, besides other qualifications, is re-
quired to be master of the business there taught. The pris-
oners, when in their working-shops, are placed in rows,
with their faces ail turned in ore direction, so that they can-
not communicate by looks or signs. Each turnkey has not
less than 20 nor more than 30 men under his charge. Tho
general superintendent of the prison has a most ingenious
method of watching, not only the prisoners, but also the
turnkeys. A narrow dark passage runs along the back part
of all the work-shops, from whence the convicts sitting at
their tasks, as well as their turnkeys, can be distinctly seen
through narrow slits in the wall, half an inch wide, and
covered with glass, while the superintendent himself can
neither be seen nor heard by the prisoners or by the keep-
ers. At a fixed hour, eight, I believe, a bell is rung, upon
which all work is discontinued ; the prisoners again form
themselves into a close line under their turnkev. and, when
the order is given to march, they return back to their cells*
Each one now stops before his door with his hands by his
side, motionless and silent like a statue, till directed by his
keeper to stoop down for his br?<ikfast, which has been pre-
viously placed for him on the floor of the gallery. They

INSTRVCTIVS RBAPSIU

141

next turn about and march in, after which the iron doors of
their cells are locke4 upon them, while th^ take their com*
ibrtless meal in solitude. After twenty minutes have elap*
Bed, the prisoners are marched to their work, which goes on
in the same uninterrupted style tilt noon, when they are
paraded once more to their celli, where they take their
lock-up unsociable dinner, and then pace again to their dull,
silent round of hard labour. On the approach of night the
prisoners are made to wash their hands as they did ii.
the morning, and then, as before, at the stund of the yard-
bell, to form themselves into lines, each one standing in or-
der, according to the number of his night's quarters. As
they pass through the yard, they take up their cans and tubs,
and proceed finally for this day to their cell-doors, where
their supper of mush and molasses awaits them as before.
At a fixed hour they are directed by a bell to undress and
go to bed; but just before this, and as nearly at sunset as
may be, the resident clergyman again pr7iys. It is very
important to know, from the best qualified local authorities,
that the efficacy of this practice, considered as a branch of
the prison dJFcipline, and independently of its other valuable
consideratiunsythas been very great. It will not be suppos-
ed, nor is it pretended by the friends of the plan, that its ef^
fects are in every case beneficiaj, and that all, or any great
number of the convicts are io be refornr.ed. It is surely
enough if it can be shewn,that of all the plans ot penitentiary
discipline which have been tried, this one affords the best
chance for succe&s. lui.

AFRICAN DESERTS.

The most striking feature o^ Africa consists of the im-
mense deserts which pervade its surface, and which are
supposed to comprise one-half of its whole extent. The
chief of these is, by way of eminence, called Sahara, or the
Desert. It stretches from the shores of the Atlantic, with
few interruptions, to the confines of Egypt, a space of more
than 45 degrees, or 2700 geographical miles, by a breadth
of 12 degrees, or 720 geographical miles. It is one prodi*

14A

llfBTRUCTlVX RBAOCII.

gious expanse of red sand, and sand atone rock, of iho gran-
ulations of which the red sand consists. It \n^ in truth, an
empire of sand, which seemi? to defy evttrr exertion >r hu-
man power or industry, although it m iniersp^jrsed witli va-
rious islandt), and feriiie and cultivated spots of different
sizes, of which Fezzan k the chief of those which have
been hitherto eiicplored.

Nearly in the centre of thlis sandy ocean, and nearly mid-
way between theMediterranean sea and tiie roast of Guinea
rise the walls of Timbuctoo, the capital of the /cry interest-
ing empire of Bambara — a city which constitutes the great
in&il: for the commerce of the interior of Africa. To main-
rain this commerce is the laborious work of the caravans,
\7i?!ch cross this enormous desert from almost every part of
the African coast. The mode hi which it is traversed is
highly curious.

The caravans consist of several hundred loaded camels,
accompanied by the Arabs, who let them out to the mer-
chants fur the transport of their goods. During their route
they are often exposed to the attacks of the roving Arabs of
Sahara, who generally commit their depredations on the
approach to the confines of the desert. In this tiresome
journey, the caravans do not proceed to the place of their
destination, in a direct line across the trackless desert, but
turn eastward or westward according to the situation of
certain fertile, inhabited, and cultivated spots, called oaseSf
interspersed in various parts of the Sahara, like islands in
the ocean. These serve as watering places to the men, at
well as to feed, refresh, and replenish the hardy and patient
camels. At each of these cultivated spots, the caravan so-
journs about seven days, and then proceeds on its journey,
until it reaches another spot of the same description. In
the intermediate journey, the hot winds, denominated
iimoonsf are often so violent, as considerably, if not entirely,
to exhale the water carried in skins by the camels for the
use of the passengers and drivers. On these occasions it ia
affirmed by the Arabs, that five>hundred dollars, have been
frequently given for a draught of water, and that ten or
twenty dollars are commonly paid when a partial exhalation
has occurred* .

IRSTIIUOTIVI RSADSR.

143

In 1805, a caravan proceeding from Timbuctoo to Tafilet
wbi disappointed at not finding water at one of the uiual
watering places, when, horrible to relate, the whole of the
persons belonging to it, two-thousand in number, besides
one thousaiid eight hundred camels, perished of thirst!
Accidents of this nature account for the vast quantities of
human and other bones which are found heaped together
in various parts of the desert.

Clarke 't Wondcrt.

PILLARS OF SAMD IN THE DESERT.

At one o'clock we alighted among some acrcla trees, at
Waadi el Halboub, having gone twenty one miles. We
were here at once surprisee and terrified by a sight, surely
one of the most magnificent in the world. In that vast ex-
panse of desert, from west to south-west of us, we saw a
nXimber of prodigious pillars of sand at difierent distances, at
times moving with great celerity, at others stalking on with a
majestic slowness ; at intervals we thought they were com-
ing in a very few minutes to overwhelm us ; and small
quantities of sand did actually more than once reach us.
Again they would retreat so as to be almost out of sight,
their tops reaching to the very clouds. There the tops often
separated from the bodies ; and these, once disjointed, dis«
persed in the air, and did not appear more. Sometimes
they were broken in the middle, as if struck with large can-
non shot. About noon they began to advance with consi-
derable swiftness towards us, the wind being strong at north.
Eleven ranged along-side of us about the distance of three
miles. The greatest diameter of the largest seemed tome,
at that distance ,as if it would measure ten feet. They re-
tired from us with a wind at south-east, leaving an im-
pression upon my mind to which I can give no name, though
surely one ingredient in it was fear, with a considerable deal
of wonder, and astonishment. It was in vain to think of
flying ; the swiftest horse, or fastest sailing ship, could be
of no use to carry us out of danger ; and the full persuasion
of this riveted me as if to the spot where I stood.

On a subsequent occasion the same appearance of inoT-

INBTRUCTITB MADBIl.

ing pillars of sand presented'themselTes in form and dispo-
sition like those we had seen at Waadi el Halbonb, only
they seemed to be more in nmnber and less in size*

They came several timed in a direction close upon us ;
that is, I believe, within less than two miles. They began
immediately after sunrise, like a thick wood, and almost
darkened the sun. His rays, shining through them for near
an hour, gave them an appearance of pillars of fire. Our
people now became desperate ; the Greeks shrieked out, and
said it was the day of judgment ; Ishmael pronounced it to
be hell, and the Turcorories, that the world was on fire.

Bruce'f Trafcll.

THE DUTCH.

In their houses, the Dutch have all the elements of com-
fort and substantial elegance. Their chief, if not only extv^
vagance is their collection of paintings, which, in the pos-
session of many private individuals, are often of great
excellence and value. Private equipages are rare. The
general hereditary maxim among all classes is to regulate
expenses according to income, be the latter ever so limited.
And all in trade, or engaged in any branch of trade, consider
it a bitter subject of reproach if one y^ar in their lives should
pass away without in some degree increasing their capital.
Hence the wealth of the Dutch and the rare occurrence of
bankruptcies in Holland. The Dutch do not, however, sub-
ject themselves to such habitual hard manual labour as the
Cnglish and Flemings. Thny trafEc on the land and on the
sea, and they make the force of the wind and of machinery,
and the strength of horses, do most of their laborious and
domestic work.

The example of the Dutch Hying in the canal or river
boats illustrates their industry and thrift. A man marries —
he and his wife possesses or purchases a small boat that
will carry from one to three tons. They live, cook, move
about many articles tz and from market ; and their first, if
not second child is born, or at least nursed, in the puny ves-
sel. The wife nurses the children, mends and often makes
all the family clothes, cooks, and assists in navigating the

mi nOOTITB RIADll.

145

ruce'i Travtik

erafti «tpeeialljr in iteering^i when you ma]ri tt tKt Mine
time, o!>eerve the hmband with a rope over hii ahoolder
dragging the boat along a ea.ial or river, when the wind ia
advem. In prooesa of time they buy a lai^ veeael, pro-
bably of aix or aeven tona, and if the amaller one be not un-
fit for uae, lell it to a young beginning couple. In the
second veaei their family grow up, until they are probably
strong enough to manage^ together with perhapa an addi-
tional hand or two, one of those large vessela carrying from
two to four hundred tone, called Rhine-boats, on board all
of which the population live in the way already alluded to.
In all Dutch operations, although the nature of different
pursuita will not admit exactly of the same gradation, the
spirit is the same, whether as merchants or as graziers ;
commanders of, or sailors in East India shipa ; skippers of
galliots, or of herring-buses^^

The Dutch, in their dief^^, certainly, frugal ; yet, al-
though it is maintained that all their good butter and cheese
are exported, generally speaking their food ia substantial ;
and their cooking and fare among the merchants and citi-
zens, scarcely difier from both in England. On board their
merchant vessels the fare is certainly much leas costly than
in English ships.

They dress plainly, but now much in the English and
French fashions, and the higher classes wear the finest Eng-
lish and Saxony cloths. The clothing of the labouring peo«
pie is, except in some parts of North Holland, and the east-
ern provinces, assimilated in cut and form to that of the
English. Formerly,when they had extensive manufactoriea
of silk and fine woollens, they exported the whole, and im-
ported coarse linens and woollens for domestic use. Of
the spicea of India, and the silks of China, few are con-
sumed in Holland.

No people are better calculated for merchants. They '
make the most minute calcylations, and ente^ with eaution
into speculations. Hence their certain, though generally
slow succesa.

The vices of the Dutch chiefly conaial in the lower
I classes drinking great quantttiea of gin, and the unceaiing
[habit of smoking indulged in by the middle and upper ranks.

iMSTftVOTlVK RIADIR.

Funnrah, — ^Funerals at Amiterdam, and at other lar^e
towns, are far from pompous. The Anapraker, a person-
age to be seen in every street in Amsterdam, dressed in
black, and with a pendant of the same colour suspended
from his hat, announces the death of all who die, to their
acquaintances ; and the chief expense of the funeral con-
sists of the sum, a kind of tax, charged for the interment,
according to the lateness of the hour at which the relatives

'^'will have tlie funeral ; after two o'clock the charge is 25
florins ; at half-past two, 50 florins ; at three 2U0 florins,
and so on. Among the lower ranks in town and country,
•11 who can claim the slightest acquaintance with the de-
ceased, follow the body to the grave ; they then return to
pay their respects to the widow, who provides liquor for
them, and, after partaking «f three or four glasses each, they
all depart except the relatives and friends of the family,
who remain to revel. At this feast the nearest relative pre-
sides ; bumpers are drunk to the repose and welfare of the
deceased, and to the prosperity of the living, until all griefs

V are drowned in gin and beer. Songs decent, ludicrous, and
vicious, succeed ; music then strikes up, the widow leads
off the dance, which, with boisterous amusements, are con-
tinued until the day dawns. In Overysell these festivities
were carried to so extravagant a length that the authorities
interfered, and strictiy forbade them.

Education. — I have been particularly pleased in observ-
ing the care which the parents lake to educate their chil-
dren. In this respect the. similarity to the Scotch custom
and principle is striking ; and the home instruction of the
upper classes is admirable. Besides many celebrated Uni-
versities, there are numerous grammar-schools, charity-
schools, and public elementary schools, by means of which
the benefits of education*extend to all classes, at little ex-
pense to those who can afford to pay, and none to those
who are indigent.

Jfational Character. — It is Very easy to sneer at the
Dutch for their plodding habits, their tobacco smoking, and
their harmless mania for tulips, but reflect on what they
b.ave accomplished. They gather not wealth but by hon-

INSTRUCT! V£ RBADlft*

147

ourabld means ; and iheir numeroui benevofent intlilutionf,
with their extreme uisinterestedness in ameliorating the
condition of their fellow-creatures, raise the population as
high in the moral scale as the most benevolent and upright
people in the world. By their hatred to tyranny and
oppression, they furnished the first durable example of free
and religious liberty to the rest of Europe. To a country
almost floating on the waters, and subjected to sudden in-
undations, they have given a firm foundation, and i-ahert
formidable barriers to the inroads of the latter. '1 hey have,
without stone or timber in the country, built spacious cities
and superb edifices, the foundations of which they havp
carried from afar. Without possessing at home a «olitary
material used in the construction of a ship, they have built
navies, that have swept the flags of their former tyrants

granaries for supplying Europe ; and with a small ferritorf^
and the people at all times subjected to heavy taxation,
theic army, Iheir fleet, and their commerce, have enabled
them to rank among the nations of Europe.

ilbridged from HcGrrgor'i " My Note Book ."

pompet's pillar.

One of the most remarkable monuments of antiquity in
Egypt is Pompey's Pillar. This remaleable object stands
near the southern gate of ^le±andria, a celebrated city of
Lower Egypt, buili by Alexander the Gnat, situate(f upon
the shore of the Mediterranean. The Pillar is composed of
red granite. The capital, which is Corinthian, is nine feet
high. The shaft and the upper member of the base are of
one piece, ninety feet long and nine in diameter. The base,
a block of marble, sixty feet in circumference, rests on twa
layers of stone bound together with lead ; which, however,
has not prevented the Arabs from forcing out several of
them, to search for an imaginary treasure. The whole co-
lumn is one hundred and fourteen feet higti. Nothing can
equal the majesty of this monument : the beauty of the capi-

lis

iNtTlVOTtVl ftlAOtft.

tjri, the length of the ihaft, and the extrabrdiniiy ■Unplieitr
oruio pedestal, excite the admiration of all travelleri. The
pwleital has been somevr hat damaged by the inslruraeots of
travellers euriouj to possess a relic of antiquity j one of the
volutes, or members of the columniwas immaturalv brouaht
down a few years ago, by a prank of some £iigliah captains,
which may be related as an instance of the addresa and fear,
lesness of British sailors.

A strange freak entered into the brains of these sons of
Neptune to drink a bowl of punch on the top of Pompey»s
I'lllar I To the spot accordingly they went j and many con-
trivances were proposed to accomplish the desired point.
But their labour was vain, until the genius who struck out
ino frolic happily suggested the means of performing it. A
man was despatched to the city for a paper kite : and the

inhabitants apprized of what was. gQiiB^ih'7iAr/?„Ay'>rHAa
»■»»» J w w w h Ktivascn of Tne auureBB hru uoiunesB 01 ine

English. The kite was flown so directly over the pillar
that when it fell on the other side, the string lodged upon
the capital. A two-inch rope was tied to. on^ end of^the
string, and drawn over the pillar by the end to which the
kite was fixed. By this rope one of the seamen ascended
to the top ; and in less than an hour a kind of shroud was
constructed, by which the whole company went up and
drank their punch amid the shouts of the astonished multi-
tude. — To the eye below, the capital of the pillar does not
appear capable of holding more than one man upon it ; but
our seamen found it could contain no less than eight persons
very conveniently. It is astonishing that no accident befell
these mad-caps, in a situation so elevated that it would have
turned a lands-man giddy in his sober senses. The only
detriment which the pillar received was the lees of the vo-
lute before mentioned, which came down with a thundering
sound. The discovery which they made amply compen-
sated for the mischief; as without their evidence, the worid
would not have known at this hour that there was origin-
ally a statue on this pillar, one foot and ankle of which
arc still remaining, terapaeok.

urmUOTlTI IBASffK.

149

f lifliplieitf
illeri. The
liruroenti of
; oneoftbc
rely brought
ith captainiy
M and fear*

leaeiooi of

f Pompey*e
cl many con-
wired point,
o struck cut
ming it. A
lie ; and the

dnAr%r\A«

?r the pillar
lodged upon
e end of^tbe
o which the
on ascended
shroud was
rent up and
lished multi-
liar does not
ipon it ; but
ight persons
oident befell
would have
The only
of the vo-
thundering
ly corapen-
, the world
was origin*
lie of which

|crapBo«k.

MOVMT VIIVYIVI.

About six milet to the eastward of Naples, stands a vol*
cano or burning mountain) named Vesuvius. During the
time of an eruption, which generally happens in the course
of a few years, streams of liquid fire issue from the crater,
or hollow summit of the mountain, and, descending down
its sides, overwhelm and destroy the country through whicU
they pass. Such a wonderful phenomenon attracts the
notice of all strangers. Mr. Seymour, therefore, proposed
an excursion to Vesuvius, which was highly approved of
by the whole party. At tho foot of the mountain, the road
became so rugged and uneven, that they exchanged their
carriages for mules; but even this accommodation was
obliged to be given up, after they had ascended as far as the
hermitage II Salvatore, where they stopped for refreshment.
Being desirous of seeing the volcano to the greatest advan-
tage, they remained at the hermitage till the middle of the
night, when they set out on foot attended by several guides.
They passed over fields of lava, which is the substance that
remains, when the liquid torrents of fire from the mountains
become cold and harden. The lava assumes a different ap-
pearance according to its age ; that which has been long
exposed to the air is black, and so hard, that tables and
other things are made of it. They observed the remains of
an eruption that had happened but a few weeks before, stil!
smoking, which, though perfectly solid, were so hot as to be
uncomfortable to their feet. As they approached the sum-
mit, vivid flashes of fire were seen issuing from the top, ac-
companied with a loud rumbling sound within the moun-
tain. To thesd succeeded showers of red-hot stone8,which
were thrown to a prodigious height, whence they fell on the
declivities, bounding and rolling within a very small space
of the place where they stood. But the most astonishing
spectacle is a cataract of fire ; the stream of red-hot liquid
lava flowing over a high rock into a valley on one side of
Salvatore, and continuing to flow a considerable space, af-
ter it had reached the ground, in the form of a river of fire,
rendered still more brilliant by the darknets of the night. —

150

INSTRUCTIVB READER.

The ascent became at last so steep, that the guides fastened
belts round their waists, that the company might assist
themselves by laying hold on them. The party had now
reached the mouth of the volcano, and placed themselves,
by the directions of the guideet, on that side of it whence the
wind blew, that they might be secure from the dangerous
consequences of the falling of the stones and combustible
matter, which were driven by the wind in an opposite di-
rection. Here they contemplated the scene before them,
with a mixture of awe and astonishment. A column of
black smoke rgze from the crater, which concealed the
sides; viviii bursts uf flame at intervals, mingled with the
curling smoke, and cast a momentary glare of light upon
the obscurity it occasioned. The solemnity of the rumb-
ling sound like thunder, that accompanied the flashes of
fire, was interrupted by the rattling of the stones, that fell
in showers red-hot and hissing on the ground. It was
sometime before any of the company broke silence, so
much were they affected by the solemnity of the objects
around them ; but they were at length naturally led to con-
verse upon the nature and eflects of these volcanoes. —
*' Whatever," observed the Count, " mfiy be the wise pur-
poses for which they are ordained, their immediate effects
are terrible to those who happen to be near them at the
time of an eruption." An Italian gentleman, with whom I
-was intimate, gave me an account of that which happened
in the year 1767. For some time before it began, the
neighbourhood was alarmed by more violent rumblings and
explosions within the mountain, than usual. A mass of
white smoke, resembling clouds of cotton, four times the
size of the mountain itself, issued from the crater j from the
midst of this white smoke, an immense quantity of stones
and cinders were shot up, not less than two thousand feet
high, and a quantity of lava boiled over the mouth of the
mountain and flowed down its sides to the distance of nearly
four miles, destroying every thing in its progress. Afier
many loud explosions, a fountain of liquid transparent fire
rose at least ten thousand feet high, and, joining the stream
that issued from the crater, formed one immense body of
fire, that reflected heat six miles round. y^Aetm.,

INITRVCTIVl RXADBll.

151

DESCRIPTION OF A FEAST GIVEN AT LOO OHOO, TO
SOME BRITISH OFFICERS, IN THE TEAR 1816.

At one o'clock we set out In the barge, with a large union-
jack flying, and as it blew fresh, we soon reached the har-
bour. As we rowed past the shore, the people were seen
running along all the roads leading to the town, so that, hj
the time we*^ reached the harbour, the crowd on both sides
was immense; the trees, walls, and house tops, and, in
short, every spot from which we could be seen, were liter-
ally covered with people, forming a sight as striking and
animated, as can well be conceived. As we entered the
harbour, several of the Chiefs were observed to come down
to a point and wave to us to go round the end of a pier or
mole, forming the same harbour, where there was a good
landing place. — The Chiefs helped us out, and then led us
along, Ookooma taking Captain Maxwell's hand, Shayoon
mine, and Jeema Mr. Clifford's; the others, according to
their rank, conducted Mr. McLeod of the Alceste, Mr.
Maxwell, and another midshipman, Mr. Browne. They
held our hands nearly as high as the shoulder, while a lane
was formed for ua through a crowd of people, who were
perfectly silent. The children were placed in front, and the
next rank sat down, so that those behind could see us pass-
ing. At about 150 yards from the landing place, we came
to the gate of a temple, where we were met by the Chief,
who stood just outside of the threshold, on a small raised
pavement. He took Ookooma's place, and conducted
Captain Maxwell up a few steps into the Temple, which
was partly open on two sides, with deep verandah's which •
made the interior shady and cool. A large table, finely
japanned, was spread, and two ornamented chairs placed for
us. The.chief seated himself at one end of the table, and
placed Captain Maxwell on his left. An entertainment
was now served, beginning with a light kind of wine called
sackecf which was handed round in very diminutive cups,
ijlisd from a small high pot, in which the sackee was kept
hot. They insisted on our emptying the cup every time,
shewing us a fair example themselves. During the whole.

15*2

UtlTRUCTITB IIBADS&.

feait| the taekee never left the table, being consideied suit-
able to all the ttrange dishes which we partook of. The
first of these consisted of hard boiled eggs cut into slices^
the outside of the whole being coloured red. A pair of
chop-sticks was now given to each person, and these were
not changed during the feast. Next came fish fried in but^
ter, wich we found an excellent dish ; then sliced smoked-
pori[ ; next pig's liver sliced. After this, tea ^as handed
round, in cups of a moderate size ; the tea was quite new,
resembling, as was observed, an infusion of hay. Pipes and
tobacco served to fill up the short interval between the
courses. A man attended behind each of our chairs, whose
sole business was to fill and light the pipes. The next dish
was the strangest of any, and disgusted most of the party ;
it consisted of a mess of coarse, soft, black-sugar, wrapped
up in unbaked dough, covered over with rice-flour dyed
yellow. After ttiis we had dishes of round cakes like ginger
bread nuts ; then cakes made in the form of wreaths, and in
a variety of other shapes. There was something like cheese
given u& after the cakes, but we cannot form a probable
conjecture of what it was made. Most of the dishes were so
good that we soon made a hearty dinner, but the attendants
still brought in more, till the Chief, seeing that we did not
eat recommended the sackee to us. The old Gentleman's
eyes at length began to glisten, and, observed, that we felt it
hot, he requested us to uncover, siiewing us the example
himself. He seized the doctor's cocked-hat and j>iit it on,
while the doctor did the same with his hatchee-nudchee.
The oddity of (he chief's appearance, produced oy thji
change, overcame the gravity of the al;teivj«»nts, and the
the mirth became general ; nor was the joke relished by any
body more than the Chief's two sons, who stood bj his
chair during all the entertainment; they were pretty little
boys with gaudy dresses, and their hair dressed ir. high
showy top-knots. During all the time we were »t t«l>le, the
crowd pressed round the verandahs, and perched them-
selves upon the walls and house-tops in the vicinity, or
wherever they could get a peep at ut*. The satisfaction
here was mutual. After sitting two hours we rose, and

tH8tRt7CTltrB ftBADBR*

153

dsait-
The

sUces,

pair of

e were

:n buU

moked-

handed

le neW)

ipea and

reen the

8, whose

lext dish

e parly ;

wrapped

)ur dyed

ike ginger

18, and in

ke cheese
probable

8 were so

ttendants

_ did not

ntleman's
we felt it
example
put it on,
■maichee.
tjy thii
and the
ed by any
^od by h\»
,reity iittU
d n. hi^
vaV>le, the
led them-
[icinily, or
latiifaction

rose, and

was escorted to the boats in the sam* order as when we
landed. >"»•

ANCIEMT AND PRESSNT STATE OlT THE HOLT LAND.

Palestine) whether viewed as the source of our religious
faith, or as the most ancient fountain of our historical know-
ledge, has at all times been regarded with feelings of the
deepest interest and curiosity. Inhabited for many ages by d
people entitled above all others to the distinction of peculiar,
iTpresents a record of events such as have not come to pass
in any other land ; monuments of belief denied to all other
nations ; hopes not elsewhere cherished, but which, never*
theless, are connected with the destiny of the whole human
race, stretch forward to the consummation of all terrestrial

ti^ASHpitiM^VIi^Qisc, aic eiaijumg ana UMeniable proofs ot
the truth and inspiration of that sacred volume, in which
which God has been pleased to reveal his wlil to fallen crea-
tures. The hills still stand round about Jerusalem as they
stood in the days of David and Sa'amon. The dews fall on
Hermon ; the cedars grow on Lebanon ; and Rishon, that
ancient river, draws its stream frcm Mount Tabor as in the
days of old. The sea of Galilee still presents the same
natural embilishments in the surrounding scenery ; the fig-
tree springs up by the way side, the sycamore spreads its
branches, and the vines and the olives still climb the sides
of the mountains. The desolation which covered the cities
of the plain is not less striking at tne present hour than
when if OSes with an inspired pen recorded the judgment of
God ; the swellings of Jordan are no' less regular in their
rise than when the Hebrews firsi approach^ its banks ;
and he who goes down from Jerusalem to Jericho atill in-
curs the greatest hazard of falling among thieves. There is,
in fact, in the scenery and manners of Palestine, a perpc*
tuity that accords well with the everlastinf, import of its his*
torical records, and which enables us to> identify with the
utmost readiness the local imagery of every great tmnsao*
tioQ,

154

INStRtTCTIVf READIER.

»=-^

The extent cfthis remarkable country has varied at difler*'
ent times, according to the nature of the government which
it has either enjoyed or been compelled to acknowledge.
Wlien it was first occupied by the Israelites, the land of
Canaan, properly so called, was confined between the shores
of the Mediterranean and the western bank of the Jordan ;
the breadth at no part exceeding fifcy miles, while the length
hardly amounted to three times that space. At a later period
the arms of David and of his immediate successor, carried
the boundaries of the kingdom to the Euphrates and Orontes
on the one hand, and in an opposite direction to the remot-
est confines of Edom and Moab. The population, asm'ght
be expected, has undergone a similar variation. Proceeding
on the usual grounds of calculation, we may infer, from the
number cf warriors whom Moses conducted through^the

desert, that the Hebrew people, when they crossed the Jor:
dan, did not fall sferi oi 'ivvdirilwfv»o, .../..u, ..^.u ."^.^'n..

corded in the book of Samuel, we may conclude with
greater confidence, that the enrolment made, under the
direction of Joab, must have returned a gross population ot
at Ipast five millions and a half. >^ ^

The present aspect of Palestine, under an admm.stration
where every thing decays and nothing is renewed, can afford
no just criterion of the accuracy of such statements. Hasty
observers have, indeed, pronounced, that a hilly country,
destitute of great rivers, could not, even under the niost
skilful management, supply food for so many mouths. But
this rash conclusion has been vigorously combated by the
most competent judged, who have taken pains to estimate
the produce of a soil under the fertilizing influence of a sun
which may be regarded as almost tropical, and of a well
regulated irrigation, which the Syrians knew how to prac-
tice with the greatest success. Canaan, it must be idmit-
ted, could not be compared to Egypt in respect to corn.
There is no Nile to scatter the riches of an inexha«ftible
fruitfulness over its valleys and plains. Still it iij s^t
without reason that Moses described it as i^ " good laii^,
a land of brooks of water, of four^rins, and depth*,
that spring out of valleys and h5"^ ■, land of wheat,

iMflTRtJCTtVE RfiAl>ElC«

139

and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pomgranates |
a land of oH, olive, and boney } a land wherein thou
s'lalt eat bread without scarceness; thou shalt not lack
any thing in it; a land whose stones ace iron, and out
of whose hills thou mayest dig brass.'* ^

The reports of the latest travellers confirm the accuracy
of this picture drawn by tlo divine legislator. Near Jericho
t!ie wild olives continue to bear berries of a large 8ize,which
yield the finest oil. In places subjected to irrigation, the
same field, after a crop of wheat in May, produces pulse in
autumn. Several of the trees are continually bearing flowers
and fruit at the same time, in all their stages. The mul-
berry planted in straight rows in the open fields, is festooned
by the tendrils of the vine. If this vegetation seems to lan-
guish or become extinct during the extreme heats ; if, in
the mountains it is at all seasons detached and interrupted,
— such exceptions to the general luxuriance are not to be
ascribed simply to the general character of all hot climates,
but also to the state of barbarism in which the great mass of
the present population is immersed.

Even in our day, some remains are to be found of the
walls which the ancient cultivators built to support the soil
on the declivities of the mountains ; the forms of the cisterns
in which they collected the rain-water ; and traces of the
canals by which this water was distributed over the fields.
These labours necessarily created a prodigious fertility un-
der an ardent sun, where a little moisture was the only
tiling requisite to revive the vegetable world. The case is
exactly the same in the Archipelago ; a tract, from 'which,
in these days, a hundred individuals can hardly draw a
scanty subsistence, formerly maintained thousands in afiiu-
ence. Moses might justly say that Canaan abounded in
milk and honey. The flocks of the Arabs still find m it
luxuriant pasture, while bees deposit in the holes of the
rocks their delicious storer, which are sometimes seen flow-
ing down the surface.

But it has never been denied that there is a remarkable
difference between the two sides of the ridge which forms
the central chain of Judea* On the western acclivity the

'*'. !

*>■

156

INSTRUOTITS RCADIR.

soil rises from the sea towards the elevated ground, in four
distinct terraces, which are covered with unfading verdure*
On the eastern side, however, the scanty coating of mould
yieldt a less magnificent crop. From the summit of the
hills a desert stretches along to the Lalte Asphaltites, pre*
senting nothing but stones and ashes, and a few thorny
shrubs. The sides of the mountain enlarge, and assume an
aspect at once more grand and more barren. By little and
little the scanty vegetation dies ; even mosses disappear,
and a red burning hue succeeds to the whileness of the
rocks. In the centre of this amphitheatre there is an arid
basin inclosed on all sides with summits scattered over with
a yellow- coloured pebble, and affording a singular aperture
to the east, through which the surface of the Dead Sea and
the distant hills of Arabia, present themselves to the eye. —
In the midst of this country of stones, encircled by a wall,
we perceive, on the one side, extensive ruins, stunted cy-
presses, and bushes of the aloe and prickly pear ; while on
the other, there are huddled together a number of heavy
square masses, very low, without chimneys or windows,
and more like prisons or sepulchres than houses, which,
with th?ir flat roofs, would appear one uninterrupted level
to xhx, eye, were the uniformity of the plan not broken by
the steeples of the churches, and minarets of the mosques.

This spot is Jerusalem. AbrldtgiLfromPtlestlBfr-CabmMLfbrair.

PETRA.

[The City of Pelvu, celebrated by the Greeks as a very
remarkable and strong City of Idumea, and whose ruins are
still the wonder of travellers, is generally understood to be
the place known more anciently by the Hebrew name,
Lelah, or Rock, which indeed the Greek name Petra also
signifies. The following interesting description of this place
is given by a recent traveller.]

Petra, the excavated city, ^e long-lost capital of Edom,
in the Scriptures and profane writings, in every language in
which its name occurs, signifies a rock ; and, through the
shadows of its early history^ we learn, that its inhabitants

WtTAVOTlTB MAOIM.

157

, in four
[^•irdure*
r mould
t of the
tes^pie*
' thorny
9ume an
ittle and
■appear,
s of the
an arid
iver with
aperture
Sea and
e eye. —
f a wall,
inted cy-
while on
pf heavy
vindowS)
, which)
ted level
■oken by
nosques.

D*l Llbraiy.

a very
ruins are
Dd to be
V namey
>tra also
lis place

f EdoiOy
;uage in
>ugh the
tabitanti

lived in clefts or exoavatieiit nede in (he lolid reek. I)e«
•olate at it now ia, we have reason to believe that \% goea
back to the time of Esau, <* The father of Edom," that
princes and dukci, eight successive kings, and again a long
line of dukes, dwelt there before any king reigned over Is-
rael f* and we recognise it from the earliest ates, as the
central point to which came the caravans from the interior
of Arabia, Persia, and India, laden with all the precious
commodities of the East, and from which these commodi-
ties were distributed through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria,
and all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean, even
Tyre and Sidon deriving their purple dyes from Fetra.—
Eight hundred years before Christ, Amaziah, the king of
Judea < slew of Edom in the valley of Salt ten thousand,
and took Selah by war.' Three hundred years after the
last of the prophets, and nearly a centniy before the Chris-
tian era, the < king of Arabia' issued irom his palace at
Petra, at the head of fifty thousand men, horse and foot,
entered Jerusalem, and uniting with the J^ws, pressed the
Beige of the temple, which was only raised by the advance
of the Romans ; and in the beginning of the second century,
thoQTi^ i^ independence was la?t, Petra was still the capital
of a Roman Province. After that time it rapidly declined ;
its history became obscure ; for more than a thousand years
it was lost to the civilised world ; and until its discovery by
Burckhardt, in 1812, except to tiie wandering Bedouins, its
very site was unknown.

This ancient and extraordinary city is situated within a
natural amphitheatre of two or three miles in circumfer-
ence, encompassed on all sides by rugaed mountains five er
six hundred feet in height. The whole of this area is now
a waste of ruins--dwelling-houses, palaces, temples, and
triumphal arches, all prostrate together in indistinguishable
confusion. The sides of the mountains are cut smooth, in
a perpendicular direction, and filled with long and continu-
ed ranges of dwdling-hquses, temples, and tombs, excava-
ted with vast labour out of the solid rock ; and while their
summits piesent Natoie in her wildest and most savage
form, xhtdr bases are adorned with all the beauty of archi-
9

166

UriTRUCTITB RIADBV.

teeture and art, with columns, and porticos, and pedimenti^
and ranges of corridors, enduring as the mountains out of
wliich they are hewn, and fresh as the work of a genera-
tion scarcely yet gone by.

Nothing can be finer than the immenae rocky rampart
which encloses the city. Strong, firm, and immoveable as
nature itself, it seems to deride the walls of cities, and the
puny fortifications of skilful engineers. The only access is
by clambering over this wall of stone, practicable only in
one place, or by an entrance the most extraordinary that
Nature, in her wildest freaks, has ever framed. The lofti-
est portals ever raised by the hands of man, the proudest
monuments of architectural skill and daring, sink into insig-
nifiicance by the comparison. ^ • « • • •

i^or about two miles the passage lies between high and
precif/itous ranges of rocks, from nve hundred to one thou-
sand feet in height, standing as if torn asunder by some great
convulsion, and barely wide enough for two horsemen to
pass abreast. A swelling stream rushes between them ;
the summits are wild and broken ; in some places over-
hanging the opposite sides, casting the darkness of night up-
on Uie narrow defile ; then receding and forming an open-
ing above, through which a strong ray of light is thrown
down, and illuminates with the blaze of day the frightful
chasm below. Wild fig-trees, oleanders, and ivy, were
growing out of the rocky sides of the clifis hundreds of feet
above our heads ; the eagle was screaming above us ; all
along were the open doors of tombs, forming the great Ne-
cropolis of the city ; and at the extreme end was a large
open space, with a powerful body of light thrown down
upon it, and exhibiting in one full view the front of a beau-
tiful temple, hewn out of the rock, with rows of Corinthian
eolumns and ornaments, standing out freaK^ and clear as if.
but yesterday from the hands of the/sculptor. Though
coming directly from the banks of the Nile, where the pre-
servation of the temples excites the' admiration and aston-
iahment of every tfaveller, we were roused and excited by
the extraordinary beauty and excellent condition of the
l^at temple at IStra. The whole temple, its columns, o^.

IHITRUOTIVB RXADBIl.

159

edioienti^
ns out of
& genera-

f rampart
veable ai
f and the
access is
B only in
inary that
The lofti-
3 proudest
into insig-
• •
high and
one thou*
lome great
rsemen to
en them ;
ces over-
' night up-
; an open-
is thrown
e frightful
ivy, werai
ids of feet
e us; all
great Ne-
iS a large

YMimenti, porticoes, and porches, are out from, and form
part of the solid rock ; and this rock, at the foot of which
the temple stands like a mere print, towers several hundred
feet above, its face cut smooth to the very summit, tnd the
top remaining wild and miS'Shapen as Nature made it. —
The whole area before the temple is perhaps an acre in
extent, enclosed on all sides except a narrow entrance, and
an opening to the left of the temple, which leads into the
area of the city by a pass through perpendicular rocks five
or six hundred feet in height. The outside of the temple is
richly ornamented, but the interior is perfectly plain, there
being no ornament of any kind upon the walls or ceiling ;
on each of the three sides is a small chamber for the recep-
tion of the dead. >^ Leaving the temple and the open area on
which it fronts, and following the stream, we entered ano-
ther defile much h-r ^ider than the first, on each side of which
were ranges of tumb«, with sculptured doors and columns;
and on the left, in ;he bosom of the mountain, hewn out of
the solid rock, is a large theatre, circular in form, the pil-
lars in front fallen, and containing thirty-three rowe of seats
capable of containing more than three thousand persons.
The whole of the theatre is at this day in such a state of
pneservation, that if the tenants of the tombs around could
once more rise into life, they might take their places on its
seats and listen to the declamation of their favorite player.
Day after day these seats had been filled, and the now si*
lent rocks had echoed to the applauding shouts of thou-
sands ; and little could an ancient Edomite imagine that a
solitary stranger, from a then unknown world, would one
day be wandering among the ruins of his proud and won-
derful city, meditating upon the fate of a race that has for
ages passed away. V

All around the theatre, \u the sides of the mountains,
were ranges of tombs ; and directly opposite they rose in
long tiers one above another. In some cases it was impos-
sible to distinguish the habitations of the living from the
chambers of the dead, but this wa^ not invariably the case ;
some were clearly tombs, for there were pits in which the
dead bad been laid, and others were ai devAj dweUings^

119

INITRUOTIVI mtADIR.

being without a place for the depoiiting of the dead. Ooe
of these kuit partieularir attracted my attenticiii. Itcoptiited
of one large chamber^ having on one tide, at the foot of the
waMy a atone bench about one foot high and two or three
broad, in form like the dtvana of the East at the present
daf ; at the other end were sereral small apartoienta whioh
bad probaUj been the sleeping rooms of the different meon-
ben of the family. Theto were no paintings or decorations
of any kind Within the chamber; but the rock out of which
it was hewn, like the whofe stoney rampart that encirelsd
the city, was of a peculiarity and beauty that I never saw
elsewliere ; being a dark ground, with veins of white, blue,
redf purple, and semetimes scarlet and light orange running
through it in rainbow streaks ; and within the chambers,
where there had been no exposure to the action of the ele*
roentd. the freshness and lieauty of the colours in which
these r.iiving lines were drawn, gave an effect hardly infer*
iV CO that of the paintings in the tombs of the kings at
i'hebes. From its high and commanding position, and the
unusual finish of the work, t^is house^ if so it may be called,
had no doubt been the residence of one who strutted bis
hour of brief existence among the wealthy citizens of Petra.

But it would be unprofitable to dwell upon details. In
the exceeding interest of the scene around me, I hurried
from place to phtce; I clambered up broken stair-cases
and among the ruins of streets ; and, looking into one ex-*
cavalion, passed on to another and another, and made the
whole circle (if the desolate city. ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Where are ye, inhabitants' of this desdate city 7 ye wha
once sat in the seats of this theatre, the young, the high-
born, the beautiful and brave ; who once rejoiced in your
riches and power, and livsd as if there was no g^ve)
Where are ye now ? Even the very tombs, whose open
doors are stretching away in long ranges before the eyes of
the wondering traveller, cannot reveal the mystery of your
dooto) : your dry bones' are gone ; the robber haa invaded
your graviss, and your very ashes have been swept tfway to
inake room for the wandering Arab of the dewrt But in
the eadiesl period of recorded txttiet long before this' tbe^ttfd

IlflTRVOTIfB RIADBII.

161

5 who"

high-

your

open
jreflof
joar
vadcfd
ay to
ut in
Atfd

Idumea, ** her cities ^^^
city among the rocL
was always marked ab
** I have sworn bv

was buitt, a preat city stood here. For, whan Imel prayed
for a passage through her country, Eidom in her haughty
pride said unto Israel, «'Thou shalt not pass by me, lest I
come out against thee with the sword."

Amid all the terrible 'enunciations agpiinst the land of

inhabitants tMreof," this proud
'* for its extraordinary sins,
of extraordinary vengeance.
J ouii saith the Lord, that Bozrah
(the strong or fortified city) shall become a desolation, a re-
proach, and a waste, and a curse. Lo I will make thee small
among the heathen, and despised among men. Thy terrible^
ness hath deceived thee, and the pride of thy heart, oh, thou
that dweliest in the clefts of the rocks, that boldest the height
of the hill ; though thou shouldest make thy nest high as
the eagle, I will bring thee down from thence saith the
Lord." Jer. xlix. 13. 16.

I would that the sceptic could stand, as I did, among the
ruins of this city, among the rocks and there open the sa^
cred book, and read the words of the inspired penman,
written when this desolate place was one of the greatest
cities in the world* I see the scoff arrested, his cheek pale,
his lip quivering, and his heart quaking with fear, as the
ruined city cries out to him in a voice loud and powerful as
that of one risen from the dead ; though he would not believe
Moses and the prophets, he believes the han^-writing of
God himself, in the desolation and eternal ruin around him.
We sat on the steps of the theatre, and made our noon-day
meal ; and our drink was from the pure stream that rolled
down at our feet. »u,u»'trnvtu^Ahrtiiu.

ORIENTAL MARRIAGI PROCESSIONS.

It is a fact worthy of notice, that the Mawnert and Cui-
ioma oftheEoitf remain unchanged with the rolling move-
ments of ages— they alter not with the jcourse of lime.
Among the best preserved of theae customs, that of Ihe
marriage ceremony may be considered the most remarkable ;
and though io detail the nuptial rites vary among diftrent

•■!•■

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UriTtV€TITI MADll.

people, and even among portions of the «me people, yet it
flieir general (eatores they are limilar.

A procession is.usnal on all occasions of marriage, eithev
to or from the house of the bridegroom or bride (sometimes
both,) which procession always takes place at night, by
terch-light. This custom so prevalent, nay, quite universal
among the Jews about the commencement of the Christian
era, was also a distinguished feature of the marriage cere*
mony among the eariy Greeks, according to Homer. In
Cowper*s translation of the Iliad, we find the following : —

** BiKes matrimonial solemnized with pomp
Of sumptuous banquets. Forth they led tlieir brides
\ Each from her chamber, and along the streets
WithVtorches ushered them, and with the voice
Of hymeneal song, heard all around.
Here striplinss danced in circles to the sound
Of pipe and harp, while in the portals stood
Women, admiring all the gallant show.*'

If we compare the parable of the foolish virgins, with the
existing marriage ceremonies of the inhabitants of Hindoa-
tan, we shall pereeive a striking resemblance. Ward, in
his ** Views of the Hindoos," gives the following account
of the arrival of a bridegroom to take the bride: << At a
marriage, the procession of which I saw some years ago, the
bridegroom came from a distance, and the bride lived at
Serampore, to which place the bridegroom was to come by
water. After waiting two hours, at length, near midnight,
it was announped, as if in the very words of Scripture,
*< Behold the bridegroom cometh, go ye out to meet him.'*
All the peraiiiitniiployed (probably women) now lighted their
lamps, and ran with them in their hands to fill up their sta-
tiona in the proceaaion ; some had lost their lamps and were
miprovided, but it was then too late to aeek them, and the
cavalcade moved forward to the house of the bride, at which
plaoe the company entered a large and splendidly llliimi-
nated area before the house of tte bride, covered , with an
awning, where a great mnltitade of friendl, diesaeA in their

iniTRUOTlTI MADIRx.

were
nd the
which
lUmni-
rith an

^e'tf

beat tpparel, were lealed apon mat8.~^The bridegr<k>iB wtt
Girried in the armv of a friend, and placed upon a raperb
teat in the midst of the company, where he eat a short time,
and then went into the honse, the door of which was im-
mediately shut, and guarded by iepoyi, land others ex-
postulated with the door-lceepers, but in vain. Never waa
I so struck with our Lord's beautiful parable ^s at this mo-
ment: -^^And the door was shut.'* I was exceedingly
anxious to be present while the marriage formulas were
repeated ; but was obliged to depart in dissppointment."
Returning after marriage to the house of the bridegroom, the
latter is commonly carried alone in a palanquin, preceding
the bride in a similar conveyance. This among the Hin-
doos is as common as for them both to be carried in the
same vehicle. Each attendant is always supplied with a
staff, on which is affixed a torch, and thus, with songs and
dances, the splendid procession moves on.

As before observed the details of marriage processions ana
often disimrlar,~ though in general features they are alike. In
Syria, Persia, and India, the bridegroom in person bringa
home the bride, but the Turks usually leave this duty to be
performed by a near relative, and remain at home to receivo
the lady. The Jews in ancient times had both these usages.
In Rgypt the bridegroom goes to the monque when the
bride is expected, and returns home with her in the pro-
cession. When the distance is not great, these processions
in Western Asia, are usually performed on foot, although
horses, mules, and asses, are sometimes rode upon. When
the procession moves on foot, the bride walks under a cano-
py, canned by two attendants ; but in Eastern Asia, let the
distance be what it may, th(^ bride rides upon a mare, mule,
ass or camel. When the bridegroom bringaii^e the bride,
the fiMiner, with the friends, moves in front, with often an
interval between the two parties. Music is almost univer-
sal at such processions, such as the pipe and the tambourine,
accompanied with songs and dances. CMvitt4.

TUBKKT.

Th« palace of the Grand Seignior, or Turkish emperor, k
called the seraglio, and resembles a small town, beinf three

UI9TfiyCTIT9 WAVfm*

njIiBp in eirownferenM* It net only containi Bpartments
for himielf nnul w|v«t (of wlioiii he has a great many,) but
likewuie for away of the gpeat offioen of 0tate. We are tol4
that thei^ are jnine laife iqoare oourta within it, and a vatt
jmiDher of oitipifioent apartments and banqueting houiei,
which ere placed in the luofit agiweable situations. The
room where the Count was first admitted to an audience^
ftood in a court adorned with beautiful fountains } the floor
wa> covered with rich ^carpets, and the furniture crimson
velvet embroidersd with pearls. The gardens belonging to
the seraglio are as fine as you can imagine, abounding with
all sorts of fruit ttees, and flowers growing up the sides of
delightful walks, ornamented with marble fountains. The
whole is charmingly situate on one of the seven hills, on
whicb^ Constantinople stands, and the domes and turrets are
adorned with gilded cresoents* The principal entrance is
through a magnificent gate, on one side of which is a pyra-
mid of skulls, with labels fastened to each of them, express-
ing the crime Av which their owners were ^utto deatb:-^a
dreadful s:ght I which I would not sufler so near my palace
gate, were I Grand Seignior I but the government here is so
arbitrary, that the cutting c" man's head is such a com-
mon occurrence, that it dt i no attention. The grand
vizier, and other oflBlcers of the highest rank, are frequently
deprived of their ofllces and strangled without exciting much
stir. The magnificence of the Ottoman court can scarcely
be exceeded, especinlly in every thing belonging to the Grand
Seignior; his bedehamberis lined with Uie finest China
ware, a^nd the floor spread with carpets of silk and gold, the
posts of the bed are of silver, and the canopy, bolsters, ma-
tresses lisiJ counterpanes, ere all made of cloth of gold.
Ills fUtendentp ve extremely numerouir$ many thousands
ofMl^m reside in the seraglio* Those officem who Pieside
et the stables and the gardens, are of veiy high nmk. Besides

S sards, servants, and attendants on the saltans, there ane
uflbons, tumblers, musicians, wrestlers, and mutes; the
latter are often permitted to amuse the Grand Seignoir, by
holding a conversation with him by nods end signs ; an art.
In whiph they are very expert, though bom deiS'aiid dumb.

WmVCTlTB ftlADIR.

165

oir, bf
an art,
dumb*

The db«n of the Turkish ladiei ii Terj ekgiiitf those we
have aeen wore a head-dresB composed of vianj handker*
chiefs of Tarioos coloars; embroidered witl|H|old and silver^
•pangled with all ininner of ple^ioiiir stonei||iid set off with
Dowersi Their resls aie generallj whpi e^ged at the
bottom with gold lace and frinm or nta wiui Taluable
furs, according to the season. Strings i^e lai^gest pearls
adorn their necks, aiid their whole dreil displays a profu*
eioQ of jewels. The men wear a sort of long gown made of
satin, taffeta or other fine stuff, girt abiMst the waist with a
sash, or leather belt^ fastened witlrgilor silver buckles.
At their girdle they commonly carrj^ two daggers, with
highly ornamented handle% and a poiieh for toba^^o. Over
the silk close-bodied gown, they put another fdrmed like a
night-gdWn, lined with furJii winter. Their stOttkings are
of doUi, with feet sewed to then of red or yellow leather ;
their shoes are of th«i same eoloar, shiped like slippers.
They cover their heads With a crimson velvet cap, about
which Uiey twist a white or red turban many ells long.

The descendants of Mahomet sire distinguished by green
turbans; and Greeks, Anhennrii^ and Jews^ by the colour
of their drawers and slippers. The Tm'ks shave their heads,
but areproud of a long beard, and whiskers oh the upper
lip. When two frieiAs meet, they lay their hands upon
their breasts, bow gently, an^, say, *< F^ce be with you."
Instead of sitting at a table to dme, they place the dishes on
a carpet of Turkey leather^ and sit cross-legged rotind it on
the floor, eating /»t/ati^ (that is, meat and rice slewed toge*
ther,) with wooiden spoons. They drink cofiee at all hours
of the day, and esteem it a remedy for most disorders.—-
Amongst their favourite diversions are smekiii^^ttd playing
on a kind Jtt lute ; sometimes they amuse neittselves at
chess, drpnigbts, and other games ; but they tidirer play for
money, or wiytbing of value.

W*ail4.

SllCTION IV.

ITIONAL POETRYp

ONt or TOVTR*

Higher, higlieff^will we elioib

Up the motiRt ofgloiy,
That our names may ||V9 through time

In our country's stwy j
Happy when her welfare calls,
He who conquers, he who falls.

Deeper, deeper let us toil
In the mines of knowledge ;

Nature*iB wealth, and Leari|iDg*s spoil
Win from school and college ;

Delve we there for rieher gems

Than the stars of difdemsk

Onward, onward may we press
Through the path of duty ;

Virtue is true' happiness.
Excellence true beauty ;

Minds are of celestial birth,

Make we then a heaven of earth.

Closer, closer let us knit
Hearts and hands together,

Where our fire-side comforts sit
In the wildest weather;—

O, they wander wlde,.who roam

For the joys of life from home.

tup

UrtTRVCTlTB . miADIB.

7KB ORfilAIf CHILD. >

Upon my father^s new-clofed gnkve
Dtep lay thd winter's mow ; -

Qrnen nfow the gran waves o^eft |»is head,
And tall the tomb-weeds grow.

Along life's road no parentV hand

My homeless footsteps led ;
No mother's arm in sickness soothed,

And raised my throbbing head.

But other hearts, Lord, thou hast waimed

With tenderness benign ;
And, in, the stranger's eyes, I mark

"the tear of pity shine.

The stranger's hand by thee is moved

To be the orphan's stay ;
And better far, the stranger's voice

Hath taught me how to pray. >^

Thou putt'st a new song in our mouths,

A song of praise and joy ;
O may we not our lips alone,

But hearts, in praise employ !

To Him who little children took,

And in his bosom held.
And blessing them with looks of love, ^

Their rising feara dispelled : —

1^ Him, while flowen bloom on the bank,

Or lambs sport on the lea ;
While larks with morning hymns ascend,

Or birds ehaunt on the tree :—

To Him, let every creatine jmn
In prayer, and tbank% and praiaa i

Infants their little anthems Usp ;
Age hallelujahs raise I

167

''^.l-iaiA^'s.-';v

UlTKVOJtTI miAOM.

There it a lend, of every lend the pridei
Beloved bv Heeven, o'er ell the earth beside ;
Where brighter f one dispenee terener light.
And mildernobnt empnmdtee the night j >
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth.
Time-tutored age, and lone-exalted youth |
The ¥randering mariner, whoie eye explores
The weelthlest isles, the most enchanting shoree.
Views not« realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ;
In every clime the magnet oif his soul.
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ;
Foir in this land of Heaven's pec*iliat grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter qiot than all the rest.
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride.
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, finend ;
Hers woman reigns ; the mother, dauf^ter, wife.
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life !
In the clear heaven of hc(r delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and giraces lie ;
A^nd her knees doi^estic duties mee^
And fireiside pleasures gambol at her feet
Where shall that land, that spot of earth he finiod t
Art thou a man 1 — a pa^ot 1— look around !
O, thou shaltftnd^ howe'er thy footsteps roam,
ThnUnod thy eonntry, nnd that spot % Home*

0*er China's gnrden.-$el4i en^ peopled floods,

In California's patlileiif world of woods;

Round Andes' height^ where Winter from his throne

Looks down in seom^ open tfie summer sone ;

By the gay borders of Beraiuda's isles,

Where Spring with evettasting verdure emiles ;

nriTlUOTIYI IBADl

169

On pure Madeira's vine-robed hillt of health ;
In Java's swamps of pestilence and wealth ;
Where Babel stood, where wolves and jackals drink
'Midst creeping willows on Euphrates' brink ;
On Carmel's crest ; by Jordan's reverend streanD,
Where Canaan's glories vanished like a dream ;
Where Greece, a spectre, haunts her heroes' grave,
And Rome's vast ruins darken Tiber's waves ;
When broken-hearted Switzerland bewails
Her subject mountains and dishonoured vales ;
When Albion's rocks exult amidst the sea,
Around the beauteous isle of Liberty ;
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride.
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside j
His Home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest. iio.i(ow«ry

irone

TRUE HAPPINESS NOT LOCAL.

True happiness has no localities ;
No tones provinoial, no peculiar garb ;
Where duty goas, %ht goes ; with justice goes ;
And goes with meekness, charity, and love,
Where'er a tear is dried ; a wounded heart
Bound up ; a bruised roirit with the dew
Of sympathy annointed ; or a pang
Of honest suffering soothed ; or injury
Repeated oft, as oA by love forgiven ;
Where'er an evil passion is subdued,
Or Virtue's feeble embers found ; where'er
A sin is heartily abjured and left-
There is a high and holy place, a spot
Of sacred light, a most religious fane,
Where happiness descending, sits and smiles.

Pvilok.

170

mSTRVOTiyi AIADIS.

TBI HOUR or DIATH.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowen to v^ither at the North-wind's breath.
And stars to set — but all.

Thou hast all seasons ibr thine own, Peath I
Day is for mortal care,

Even for glad meetings round the joyous hearth,
Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer ;

But all for thee thou Mightiest of the earth

We know when moons shall wane,

When summer-birds from far shall cross the seas,
W|hen autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain ;

But who shall teach us when to look for thee ?
Is it when spring's first gale

Comes forth to whisper whence the violets lie t
Is it when roses in our paths grow pale ?

They have one season — all are ours to die !

Thou art where billows foam ;

Thou art where music melts upon the air ;
Thou art around us in our peaceful home ;

And the world calls us forth — and thou art there ;
Thou art where friend meets friend.

Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest ;
Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend

The skies, a^d swords beat down the princely crest !

Mri. Htmant.

THE BVRIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORB.

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.

As his corpse to the rampart we hurried ;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
^ O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night.
The soda with our bayonets turning ;

IN8TRUCTIVI RBADIR.

171

eatby
ill

rth»
er;

seMy

iieT

there ;

end

ely crest !

Mil. Htman*.

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light
And the lantern dimly burning*

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Not in sheet nor ia shroud we bound him ;

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest^
With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we saidy

And we spoke not a word of sorrow ;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead.

And we bitterly Uiought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hallowed his narrow bedy

And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,

And we far away on the billow !

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone.
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,—

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Britain has laid him.

But hal^of our heavy task was done.
When the clock struck the hour for retiring |

And we heard the distant and- random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his feme fresh and gory ;

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone —
But we left him alone with his glory.

Rtv. C. Wei ft

THE PLUM CAKfiB.

A Farmer who some wealth possesst,
With three fine boys was also blest ;

112 INtTAUCTt^B IBAfittl.

The lads wert hetUbf^ ilciili ind young,
* And neither wanted lenie ^ r tongue ;
Tom, Willi and Jack, like otner hoyi.
Loved topi and marblea, tport and toys.
The (hther scouted that false plan.
That money only makes the man }
And to the best of bis discerning,
Was bent on giving them good learning.
He was a man of observation ;
No scholar, yet bad penetration $
So wKh due care a school be sought,
Where bis young ones might well be taught.
Quoth he, ** I know not which rehearses
Most properly hiMthemes and verses $
Yet I can do a father's part.
And school the temper, mind, and heart $
The natural bent of each I'll know,
And trifles best that bent may show."

'T was just before the closing year.
When Christimas holidays were near,
The farmer called to see his boys,
And asked how each his time employs.
Quoth Will, " There's father, boys, without ;
He's brought us something gcod no doubt'*
The father sees their merry faces ;
With joy beholds them and embraces ;
Then from his pocket straight he takes
A viki profusion of plum cakes ;
He counts them out a plenteous store ;
No boy shall have, or less or more ;
Twelve cakes he gives to each dear son,
When each expected only one :
And then with many a kinJ expression.
He leaves them to their own discretion )
Resolved to mark the use each made
Of what he to their hands conveyed.

The twelve days passed, he came once more,
And brings the horses to the door,

WtTRUOTITl RIABll. 178

The bojt with npture Me appear
The ponej and th» dappled mare.
Eaeh moment now an hour thej coant»
And ilathed their whipt and longed to mount.
Ai with the boje bit ride he takee.
He aiki the hiitory of the cakee.

Sayi Will, « Dear father, life ia ihort,
So' I resolved to make quick aport ;
The cakes were all so nice and sweet,
I thought Pd have one jotlf treat.
Why should 1 baulk, said 1, my tasu» t
V\\ make at once a hearty feast*
So snugly by myself I fed.
When every boy was gone to bed ; \ ^
I gorged them all, bothj)aBte, and plum.
And did not waste a single crumb.
Howe'er, they made me to my sorrow^
As sick as death upon the morrow ;
This made me mourn my rich repast,
And wish I had not fed so fast."

Quoth Jack, ** I was not such a dunce,
To eat my quantum up at once $
And though the boys all longed to clutch them,
I would not let a creature touch them ;
Nor, though the whole were in my power.
Would I myself one cake devour ;
Thanks for the use of keys and locks/
They're all now safe within my box.
The mischief is, by hoarding long^
They're growq so mouldy and so strong,-
I find they won't be fit to eat
And so I've lost my father's treat."

** Well Tom," the anxious parent cries^
« How did you manage?'* Tom replies,
*< I shunned each wide extreme to take.
To glut my maw or hoard my cake $

il^

174 UftTRUCTIVJB READER.

I thought each d0g its wants would ha? e>
And Appetite again might crave,
Twelve school-days still my notches counted
To twelve my father's cakes amounted :
So every day I took out one,
But never ate my cake alone ;
With every needy boy I shared,
And more than half 1 always spared.
One every day, 'twixt self and friend,
Has bnought my dozen to an end.
My last remaining cake to day,
I would not touch but gave away ;
To him it proved a welcome treat.
' Jack called me spendthrift, not to save j
Will dubbed me fool because I gave ;
But when o^r last day came, I smiled.
For Will's were gone, and Jack's were spoiled ,*
Not hoarding much, nor eating fast,
I served a needy friend at last." h Moort.

CHRIST'S SECOMD COMING.

The Lord shall come ! The earth shall quake,
The mountains to their centre shake, ^

And, withering from the vault of night, j^ > J
The stars phall pale their feeble riipht^ ^v'/ A '/-
The Lord shall come I a dreadful term, I
With rainbow-wreath and robes of storm ;
On chehib wings, and wings of wind,
i&ppointed Judge of all mankind.

Can this be he who wont to stray
A pilgrim on the world's highway.
Oppressed by power, and mocked by pride.
The Nazarenei^the crucified ?
While sinners in despair shall call,
<* Rocks, hide us ; mountains, on us fall 1"
The saints ascending from the tomb.
Shall joyful sing « The Lord is come !"

|l«t<)r.

ntSTRVOTITB RIADIR*

175

THI IVINIIIO ClfOUD. ^

A cloud lay cradled near the setting suni
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided sqow ;
Long had I watched the glory moving on
O'er the still radiance of the lake below.

Tranquil its spirit seem'd, and floated slow !

Even io its very motion there was rest ;
While every breath of eve that chanced to blow^

Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west.

Emblemi methought, of the departed soul I
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given ;

And by the breath of mercy made to roll
Right onward to the golden gates of heaven.

Where, to the eye of Faith, it peaceful liesi

And tells to man his glorious destinies.

Wihon

THI IDLE Bor.

Young Thomas was an idle lad.
And lounged about all day ;

And though he many a lesson Jiad|
He minded nought but play.

He only cared for top and ball.
Or marbles, hoop, and kite.

But as for learning,lthat was all
Neglected by him quite.

In vain his mother's kind advice,

In vain his father's care ;
He followed every idle vice,

And learnt to curse and swear.

And think you, when he grew a man.
He prospered in his ways %

fi^lAii'. '<-<0i-3i«.'

INSTRUCTIVE RtADBS.

No — wicked curaes never tan
Bring good and happy days.

Without a ahilling in his purse,

Or coat to call his own,
Poor Thomas grew from bad to worse.

And hardened as a stone.

And oh ! it grieves' me much to wr'te

His melancholy end ;
Then jet us leave the dreadful sight,

And thoughts of pity send.

But may we this important truth

Observe and ever hold,
'* That most who^re idle in their youth,

Are wicked whea they're eld."

Asd.

THE ORPHAN BOT.

Stay, lady — stay, for mercy's sake,
And hear a helpless orphan's tale !

Ah ! sure my looks must pity wake-*
'Tis foant that makes my cheek so pale.

Yet I was once a mother's pride.
And my brave father's hope and joy ;

But in the NHe's proud fight he died —
And I ani now an orphan boy!

Poor foolish child, how pleased was I,
When news of Nelson's victory came.

Along the crowded streets to fly.
To see the lighted windows flame !

To force me home my mother sought—
She could not bear to see my joy ;

tNSTRUCTlVB RBADEl*

For with my father's life 'twas bought—
And made me a poor orphan boy.

*' • .

The people's shouts were long and loud,
My mother shudd .'ring closed her eara ;

** Rejdce! rejoivel'* si.U cried the crowd —

* Aiy mother anuwered with her tears.

*< Oh ! why do tears steal down your cheek/'
Cr.ed 1, ** while other's shout for joy ?"

She kissed me; and in accents weak,
She called me her poor orphan boy !

(* What is an orphan boy t" I said ;

When suddenly she gasped for breath,
And her eyes closed ! 1 shrieked for aid :—

But, ah ! her eyes were closed in death !

My hardships since, I will nut tell ;

But now no more a parentis joy ;
Ah ! lady, I have learnt too well

What 'tis to be an orphan boy !

Oh ! were I by your bounty fed !

Nay, gentle lady, do not chide ;
Trust me, I mean to earn my bread—

The sailor^s orphan boy has pride.

" Lady, you weep : — what is't you say ?

You'll give me clothing, food, employ V*
Look down, dear parents I look and see

Your happy, happy orphan boy. o^i*.

Ill

THB TREASURES Of THE DEEP.

What hideit thou in thy treasure-caves and cells,
Thpu hoilow-eounding aud mysterious Main ^

178

INBTRUCTIYB READERi

I iy

Pale glistening pearli, and rainbow-coloureJ shells,

Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in vain.
Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy Sea !
We ask not such from thee.

Yet more, the Depths have more ! What wealth untold,
Far down, and shining through their stillness liei !

Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies.

Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful Main !
Earth claims not these again !w.

Yet more, the Depths have more ! Thy Waves have rolled
Above the cities of a world gone by ! ,

Sand hath filled up the palaces of old.
Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry !

Dash o'er them. Ocean ! in thy scornful play-*
Man yields them to decay !

Yet more ! the Billows and the Depths have more !

High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast [
They hear not now the booming waters roar.

The battle-thunders will not break their rest.
Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave-
Give back the true and brave !

Give back the lost and lovely I those for whom
The place was kept at board and hearth so long,

The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom.
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song !

Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, —
But all is not thine own ! :

To thee the love of woman hath gone down,
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble bead,

O'er youth's bright locks and beauty's flowery crown ;
Yet must thou heara voice — Restore the Dead !

Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee-*-

Restore the Dead, thou Sea ! mm Bia»ot

IRITRtJCTlVX EKADBR.

179

k MOTHER to HSR WAKIMO INFANT.

Now in thy dazzling, lialf-dped eye^
Thy curled noae, and Up awry,
Thy up-hoist armi, and nodding heady
And little chin with crystal spread.
Poor helpless thing ! what do I see,
That I should sing of thee ?

From thy small tongue no accents come,
Which can but rub thy toothless gum ;
Small understanding boasts thy face.
Thy shapeless limbs, nor step nor grace^
A few short words thy feats may tell.
And yet I love thee well.

When sudden wakes the bitter shriek,
And redder swells thy little cheek ;
When rattled keys thy woes beguile.
And through the wet eye gleams the smile.
Still for thy weakly self is spent
Thy little silly plaint.

But when thy friends are in distress,
Thou'lt laugh and chuckle ne'er the lets ;
Nor even with sympathy be smitten,
Though all were^9eelsbut thee^nd kitten ;
Yet, little varlet that thou art,
< Thou twitchest at my heart.

Thy very cheek, 'so soft and warm ;
Thy pinky hand, and dimpled arm ;
Thy silken locks, that scantly peep,
With gold tipped ends, where circles deep
Around thy neck in harmless grace ;
So soft and sleekly hold their place,
Might harder hearts with kindness fill,
And gain our right good will.

180

INSTRUCTIVI READER.

Each passing swain bestow's his bless'ng ;
Thy mouth is worn with oM wives kisding ;
Even lighter looks the gloonny eye
or surly sense, when thou are by ;
And yet, 1 think who'er they be
They love thee not like me.

Perhaps when time shall add a few
Short years to thee, thou'lt love me too :
Then wilt thou, through lifers weary way,
Become my sure and charming stay ;
Will care for me, and be my hold.
When I am weak and old.

Thou'lt listen to my lengthened tale.
And pity me when I am frail,
But see ! the sweeping spinning fly,
Upon the window, takes thine eye;
Go to thy little senseless play ;
Thou dost not heed my lay.

i-^ >r i-A^

(1.

THE GRACES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

They grew in beauty side by side,
They filled one home with glee \-^

Their graves are severed far and wide,
By mount, and stream and sea.

The same fond mother's Weast-at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow ;

She had each ibided flower in sight, —
Where are those dreamers now ?

One, 'midst the forests of the West, «
By a dark stream is laid, —

The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar's shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,
He lies where pearls lie deep ;

nVSTRUCTITC BIADIR.

181

He was the \o**ed of ally yet none
0*er his lone bed may weep.

One deeps where southern vines are dies!

Above the noble ilain ;
He wrapt his colours round his breast,

On a blood-red field of Spain.

And one o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves by soft winds fanned ;

She faded 'midst Italian bowers, —
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest, who played
Beneath the same green tree $

Whose voices mingled as they prayed —
Around one parent knee 1

They that with smiles lit up the hair,
And cheered with song the hearth,—

Alas ! for love, if this were all ;
And nought beyond this earth !

■■«

Mrt. BtMUM>

.-»•-*

MT FATHBR'S AT THS HILH.

The curling waves with awful roar

A little bark assailed
And pallid fear's distracting power

O'er all on board prevailed,

Save one, the Captain's darling child.
Who steadfast viewed the storm ;

And cheerful, with composure smiled
At dangei['s threatening form.

<' And sport'st thou thus," aseanlan cried,^
*^ While terron overwhelm f

182

INSTRVCTIVI RIADIIU

« Why thould I fear," the child lepliad,
'* My fathei'f at the helm."

So, when our mortal all is nd^

Our earthly helpers gone ;
We still have one sur^ anchor left,

Godhelpif and He alone*

He to our prayers will lend his ear,.
,^,: He'll give our pangs relief;
Bell turn to smiles each troubling care,
To joy each torturing grief.

Then turn to him 'midst sorrow wild.
When woes and wants overwhelm ;

Bemembering like that fearless child.
Our Falhere at the helm.

THE ROSS.

The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower,

Which Mary to Anna conveyed,
The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower.

And weighed down its beautiful head.

The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet,

And seemed to a fanciful viewy
To weep for the buds it had left with regret

On Uie flourishing bush where it grew.

I hastily seized it, unfit as it was
For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned.

And swinging it rudely, too rudely alas !
I snapMd it,~it fell to the ground I

And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part
Some act by the delicate mind,

The J

Andl

Andt

When

Liket

That

Like tl

That

Foptl
And

,^;%-

UfSTRUOTlVB RBADKB. 183

BegardleM of wringing and breaking a b^art
Already to sorrow reiigned.

Thii elegant rose, bad I ahaken it Iom,
Might have bloomed with its owner a while ;

And the tear that is wiped with a little addresS]!
May be followed perhaps with a smile. ce»pM

i'.i-

I \}

▲NADYIOB.

Of Ueav«n ask virtue, wisdom, health,
But never let thy prayer be wealth,
If food be thine, (though little gold,)
And raiment to repel the cold ;
Such as may nature's wants suffice^
Not what from pride and folly rise.
If the soft motion of thy soul,
And ji cQklm conscience crown the whole,
Add bilt^friend to all this store.
You can't in reason wish Tor more ;
And if kind Heaven this comfort brings,
'Tis more than Heaven bestows on kings.

Cottoa.

THI DESTRUCTION Of 8BNACH8RIB.

The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold.
And his cohorts were gleaming with purple and gold ;
And the sheen of their spears vims like stars in the sea,
When the blue v^ave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when spromer is green,
That host with their bankers at sunset were seen j
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the monow lay withered and strowo.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ;

184

UflTBUOTIYB RBADn.

And the eyas of the sleepen waxed deadly and chilly
And their hearti but once heaved, and for ever grew atill t
And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide.
But thmuyli it there rolled not the breath of his pride ;

LndtheTSan of his gaaping lay white on the turf.
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surC

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his na9 }
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
A^d the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
Ami the Idols are broke in the temple of Baid i
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord I

Tl
Tr

Ai
That

WOMAir.

Woman I blest partner of our joys and woes !
Even in the darkest boor of earthly ill
. Untarnished yet, thy fond affection glows,

Throbs wiui each pulse, and beats with every thrill !
Brisht o*er the wasted scene thou hoverest still

Angel of comfort to the failing soul ;
Undaunted by the tempest wild and chill.
That poors its restless and disastrous roll
0*er all that blooms below, with sad and hollow howl !

When sorrow rends the heart, when feverish pain

Wrings the hot drops of anguish from the brow ;
To sooth the soul, to cool the burning brain.

Oh who so welcome, and so prompt as thou !
The battle's hurried scene, and angry glow—-

The detth-encircUNd pillow of distress, —
The lonelv moments of secluded woe,—

Alike they care and constancy confess.
Alike thy pitying hand and feariess friendship blesi*

Thee youthful fancy loves in aid to call |
Hence first invoked the saored sisteis were ;

IN8TRUCT1TI RCADBB.

185

The form thtt holds the enthusiast'i heart in thrall
He 'mid hii bright creation, painla moit fair }-—

True in his earthly wilderness of carey-—
As hunter's path the wilds and forests through ;

And firm.— all fragile as thou art— to bear
Lifers dangerous billow, as the light caooe
That shooti witn all its freight the impetaons rapid's flow.

PRAI81 TO GOD IN PR08P1RITY AND* ADTf EUTT.

Praise to God, immortal praisey
For the love that crowns oar dnjs ;
Bounteous source of every joy,
Let thy praise my tongue employ.

For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield,
For the vine's exalted juice.
For the generous olive's use*

Flocks that whiten all the plain.
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain.
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diflTuse.

All that spring with bounteous hand,
Scatters o'er this smiling land ;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o'erfiowing stores.

These to thee my God, we owe.
Source whence all our blessings flew ;
And for these my soul shall raiEO
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Yet should rising whirlwinds tear^
From its stem, the ripening ear ;

186

INITRUOTITB RIADIR.

'•

l^iHV.

f,
■fe

Should th« fig.tree'i blasted «noc(
Drop her green untimely fruit :

Should the vine put forth no moroy
Nor the otive yield her atorey
Though the aickening flocka should fall.
And the herda deiert their atall.

Should thine altered hand restrain
The early and the latter rain ;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy ;

Yet to Thee my soul shall raise
GrateAiI vows and solemn praise,
And) when every blessing's flown,
Love thee — for thyself alone.

Mrt. B«rba«l4.

THI BIBLl.

Hast thou ever heard

Of such a book t The author, God himself;
The subject, God and man, salvation, life
And death-»etemal life, eternal death-
Most wondrous book t bright candle of the Lord !
Star of Eternity ! The only star
By which the bark of man could navigate
The sea of life, and gfth tho coast of bliss
Secumly J only star which ros9 on Tm^.
And, on its dark and loit'^l^'^ v^iilowp, lUll,
As generation, drifting swiniy by.
Succeeded seneration, threw a ray
Of Heaven's own light, and to the hills of God—
The everiasting hiIIs,'^pointed the sinner's eye.
By Prophets, Seen, and Priests, and sacred Bards,
Evangelists, Apostles, men inspired,
And, by the Holy Ghost anointed, set
Apart and consecrated, to declare

In the

Shi

Wera

iktth
Are

While
Obi

Btfbaaid.

IHITAUOTITB MADBR.

187

On earth tho ountela of the Eternal One,

This Book — thii holivdtf this sublimest Bo«k —

Was sent. Heaven's will, Haven't code ^jif laws entire

To man this Book contained ; defined the boundi

Of vice and virtue, and of life and death ;

And what was shadow — what wa» substance — ta«|ht.

• • « • • *

This Book — this holy book, on every line
Marked with the seal of high divinity ;
On every leaf bedewed with drops of love
Divine, and with the eternal heraldry
And signature of God Almighty stampt
From nrst to last — this ray of sacred light ;— •
This lamp, from off the everlasti ,g throne,
Mercy took down, and in the night of Time,
Stood, casting on the dark her gracious bow ;
And evermore beseeching men with tears
And earnest sighs, to read, believe, and live.
And many to her voice gave ear, and read,
Believed, obeyed ; and now, aa the Amen,
True, Faithful Witness swore, with snowy robes
And branchy-palms, surround the fount of life,
And drink the streams of immortality,
For ever happy, and for ever young. r^n.^.

THK DBCBITFULNI8S OF THE WORLD.

rds,

In the morning of life when its sweet sunny smile
Shines bright on our path, we may dream we are blest,

We may look on the world as a gay fairy isle.
Where sorrow's unknown, and the weary have rest.

But the brightness that shone, and the hopes we enjoyed,
Are clouded ere noon, and soon vanish away ;

While the dark beating tempest, on life's stormy tide,
Obscures all the sweets of the morning's bright ray.

1S8

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

Then where are those bowers in some gay, happy plain.

Where hope ne'er deceives, and where love is aye true ;
Where the brightness of morning shines on, but to gain

A sunshine as bright, and as promising tool
Oh ! ask for it not, in this valley of night,

Where wo smile but to weep, and we ne'er can find rest ;
For the world we would wish, shines afar in the skies.

The sorrows unknown — ^'tis the home of the blest !

^\ I

Alpha.

THE VIOLET*

T
T

Serene as the morning, the bird leaves its nest,

And sings a salute to the dawn ;
The sun with his splendour illumines the east,

And brightens the dew on the lawn.

While the sons of debauch to indulgence give way^
And slumber the prime of their hours ;

Let us, my dear Betsy, the garden survey,
And make our remarks on the flowers.

The gay, gaudy tulip, observe as you walk,

How flaunting the gloss of its vest;
How proud and how stately it stands on its stalk,

In beauty's diversity drest I

From the rose and carnation, the pink and the clove,

What odours delightfully spring !
But the south wafts a richer perfume to the grove,

As he brushes the leaves with his wing.

Apart from the rest in her purple array.

The violet humbly retreats ;
In modest concealment, she peeps on the day,

Yet none can excel her in sweets.

So humble, that though with unparalelled grace,
She might even a palace adorn,-~

Alpha*

IXSTRVCTIYB IIEAD£R.

189

She oft in Ihe hedge hides her innocent fecey
And growl at the foot oftbe thorn*

So beauty my fair one ii doubly refined,
When modesty heightens her charms ;

When meelcness, like thine, adds a gem to her mind,
Of malice the force it disarms.

Though Venus herself^ from her throne should descend.

And the Graces await at her call ;
To thee the gay world would with preference bend,

And hail thee the Violet of all.

ill

.4.
,f •'

J ■ '!■

THI BETTIB LAND*

<< I hear thee speak of the better land ; ,
Th6u call'st its children a happy band ;
Mother ! where is that radiant shore ?—
Shall we not seek it and weep no more t—
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle boughs t
*< Not there, not there, my child I*'

<< Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise,
And the date grows up^ under many skies ? —
Or, 'midst the green islands on gVittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,
And strange bright birds, on their starry wings,
Bear>|he rich hues of all glorious things 1"
Not there, not there, my child !"

** Is it far away, in some region old,
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold I
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine.
And the diamond lights up the secret mine.
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand.
Is it there, sweet mother, that better land 1"
*< Not there, not there, my child ! —

190 XNSTRUCTIYfi READER.

" Eye hath not seen it, my gentle bey ! '-
Ear hath not heard its deep song of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair—
Sorrow and death may not enter there :
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the cloudd, and beyond the to^b !"
<< It is there, it is there, my child !"

INSTRUCTIONS TO A PORTER*

Yoa ! to whose care I've now consigned
My house^s entrance, caution use, —

While you discharge your trust, and mind
Whom you admit, and whom refuse.

Let no fierce passions enter here.
Passions the raging breast that storm ;

Nor scornful pride, nor servile fear,
Nor hate, nor envy's pallid form.

Should Avarice call — you'll let her know
Of heaped-up riches I've no store ;

And that she has no right to go.
Where Plutus has not been before.

Lo ! on a visit hither bent.

High plumed Ambition stalks about,
But should he enter, sweet Content

Will give me warning — shut him out.

Perhaps the Muse may pass this way,
And though full oft I've bent my knee,

And long invoked her magic sway,
Smit with the love of harmony ;

Alone though she might please — ^yet still
I kaow she'll with Ambition come j

XN8TRUCTIVI ItfiADIR.

With lust of fame my heart she'll fill,
Shell break my rest— Pm not at home.*

There is a rascal/old and hideous,
Who oft, (and sometimes not in vain)

Close at my gate has watched assiduous,
In hopes he might admittance gain.

His name is Care— if he should call,
Quick out of doors with vigour throw him ;

V^nd tell the miscreant once for all,
I know him not, I ne'er will know him.

Perhaps then Bacchus foe to Care,
May think he'll sure my favour win.

His promises of joy are fair,
But false; you must not let him in.

But welcome that sweet power on whom
The young desires attendant move ;

Still flushed with beauty's vernal bloom,
Parent of bliss, the Queen of Love.

! you will know her, she has stole.

The lustre of my Delia's eye ;
Admit her, hail her— for my soul

Breathe's double life when she is nigh.

1
k 1

BtdiufCdd.

THB VULTURE OF THE ALPS.

I've been among the mighty Alps, and wandered through

their vales,
And heard the honest mountaineers relate their dismal tales,
As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their daily work

was o'er.
They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er were

heard of more.

The uiww oftn leat by loae while really tt hone to thoie whom they to Mt wkb (•
-> piMli«« which ihouli not be foUowed, liac* H il iBjwiow to uvth.

192

INSTRUCTIVE RIADBR.

And there I from a shepherd heard a narrative of fear,
A tale to rend a mortal heart,which mothers might not hear:
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was tremulous ;
But, wiping all those tears away, he told his story thus :

** It is among these barren cliSs, the ravenous vulture dwells,
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells ;
But, patient, watching hour on hour upon a lofty rock.
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim from the flock.

One cloudless sabbath summer mom, the sun was rising

high
When from my children on the green, I heard a fearful cry,
As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of grief and pain,
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear again.

I hurried out to know the cause ; but, overwhelmed with

fright,
The children never eeaied to shriek, and from my frenzied

sight
I missed the youngest of my babes, the dariing of my care ;
But something caught my searching eye, slow-sailing through

the air.

O f what a spectacle to meet a father's eye—
His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to desery;
And know, with agonizing breast, and with a maniac rave.
That earthly power could not avail, t^t innocent to save !

My infant stretched his little hands imploringly to me.
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly, to get free ;
At intervals, I heard hit cries, as loud he shrieked and

screamed !
Until upon the azure sky a lessening spot he seemed.

The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though heavily he

flew,
A mote upon the sun's broad face, he seemed unto my view ;
But once I thought I saw him stoop as if he would alight-^
'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had vanished quite*

Iclal
I ki

The

IlfSTRUOTlVl IlIABIR.

198

All search wa^ vain, and yean had paased ; that child was

ne'er forgot,
When once a danng hunter climbed unto a lofty ipot.
From whence,upon a rugged crag the chamois never reached,
He saw an infant's flesblesi bones the elements had bleach'd!

I clambered up that rugged cliff— -I could not stay away —
I knew they were my infant's bones thus hastening to

decay ;
A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to many a

shred;
The crimson cap he wore that mom wa^ still upon the

head.

That dreary spot is pointed out to travellers passing by,
Who often stand, and, musing gaze, nor go without a sigh.
And as I journeyed, the next mom, along my sunny- way.
The precipice was shewn to me wlieieon the infant lay.

; ■

■^ i

Ajmbjboui

jw;
It^

CHRISTIAN MISSIONS.

From Greenland's icy mountains.
From India's cor^'strand.

Where Afric's sunny fountains

^ HoU down their polden sand ;

From many an ancient river.
From many a palmy plain—

They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.

Shall we, whose souls are lighted

With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted

The lamp of light deny 1
Salvation ! salvation !

The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation

Has learned Messiah's name.

IM INaTRUOTIVB RBADKR.

Waft) wmft, ye winds, his story.

And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea ofglory,

It spreads firom pole to pole ;
Till oVr our ransomed nature

The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,

In bliss returns to reign.

ADDRESS TO A STEAMBOAT^

Freighted with passengers of every sort,

A motley throng, thou leav'st the port.

Thy long and ample deck,

Where scattered lie

Baskets and cloaks, aR^fhawIs of scarlet dye ;

Where dogs and children, through the crowd are straying.

And, on the bench apart, the fiddler playing.

While matron dames to tressied seats repair.

Seems on the gleaming waves a floating fain

Its dark form on the sky's pale azure cast
Towers from this clustering group thy pillared mapt ;
The dense smoke issuing from its narrow vent
Is to the air in curly volumes sent.
Which, coiling and uncoiliqg on the wind.
Trails like a writhing serpent far behind.
Beneath, as each merged wheel its motion plies.
On either side the white churned waters rise.
And, newly parted from the noisy iray.
Track with light ridgy foam the recent way ;
Then far diverged, in many a welting line
Of lustre, on the distant surface shine.

Thou hold'st thy course in independent pride $
No leave ask'st thou of either wind or tide ;
To whate'er point the breeae, inconstant veer.
Still doth thy ceaseless helmsman onward steer,

INITRVCTIVI RIADBIU

1A5

ing,

As if the stroke of some inagid«n'a wand
Had lent thee power the ocean to eommaiid*

Yet, nevertheless^ whate'er we owe to tbeoi

Rover at will| on river, lake, and sea,.

Dearer to fancy, to the eye more faii^

Are the light skifts, that, to the breezy air>

Unfurl their swelling sails of snowy hue

Upon the moving lap of ocean blue ;

As the proud swan on summer lake displays, ,

With plumagiB* brightening in the morning rays^

Her fair pavilion of erected winge,r —

They change, and veer, and turn like living things.

In very truth, compared to these thou art
A daily labourer, a mechanic swart;
Beholding thee, the great of other days.
And modern men with all their al|md ways.
Across my mind with hasty transitpMrn,
Like fleeting shadows of a fevesish dream;
Fitful I gaze, with adverse humoure tossed.
Half sad, half proud, half angry, and half pleased.

■«IWII»

LOVS or CHBTST.

Oh ! never, never canst thou know

What then for thee the Saviour boref
The pangs of that mysterious woe;

That wrung his feame at every pore,
The weight that pressed upon bis brow,

The fever- of his bosom's core !
Yes, man for man perchance may brave
The honors of the yawning grave.
And friend for friend, or child for sire^
Undaunted and unmoved expire, —
From love— or piety — or pride ;•—
But who can die as Jesus died.

196 UflTRUOTITB RIADBR.

A sv^eet but solitary beanii

An emanation from above^
Glimmers o'er life's uncertain dream.

We hail that beam and call it love I
But fainter than the polar star's ray
Before the noon-tide blaze of day,
And lighter than the viewless sand
Beneath the wane that sweeps the strand^
Is aU of love that man can know,^-
All that an angsl-breast can slowi —
Compared, O Lord of Hosts! with thine,
Eternal — fathomless — divine !

IW4

HBBRRW MBLODT.

Mourn, Israel, moaB^ thy long faded glory ;

No sceptre is thn^the Shecina is gone ;
Thy temple's a desert, thy grandeur a story.

Then who shall befriend thee ? alas I is there none ?

Oh yes, there is One ! though by all else forsaken,
Unpitied, unfriended, denounced though thou be ;

His mercies but slumber and soon shall awaken.
And burn with new ardour devotod to thee*^

What^ough thy mute harps be hung on the willows,
And the harpers no more give their songs to the breeze t

And what though thy children be tossed on life's billows,
AU scattered and dashed, and as restlen as these 1

A pitying spirit is hovering above thee —
Tis Abraham's spirit — then banish thy fears |

While Abraham lives, Jehovah must love thee
And comfort thee still in this season of tfirs;

AlbMt.

INITaVOTIVl READER.
A NIGHT 80B1IB.

197

The following piece ii a good example of the different
mannera alluded to in the introduction. It is a specimen
of PLAINTIVE NARRATIVE. At the Commencement of the
fourth stanza, a vehement expression of despair.

IMai

Ireezet

lillows,
1

Xbmu

It was a winter's evening, and fast came down the snow,
And keenly o*er the wide heath the bitter blast did blow —
When a damsel all forlorn, quite bewildered in her way,
Pressed her baby to Iter bosom, and sadly thus did say :

<* Oh ! cruel was my father, that shut )tii door on me.
And cruel wUkJKSy mother, that such a sight could see.
And cruel li me wiotfy wind, that thrills my heart with

cold, ji^L

But crueler than all, the lad that 4||Kr love for gold.

Hush, hush; my lovely babe, and warm thee in my breast.
Ah ! little thinks thy father how sadly we're distressed ;
For cruel as he is, did he know but how we fare.
He'd shelter us in his arms from the bitter piercing air.

Cold, _
Oh! letmy teai
lly tears that gui

fall, ^
Ah! wretched, wretched mother, thou'rt now bereft of an."

!jhy little life is gone:

'"' warm that trickle down,

bh! they freeze before they

Then down she sunk despairing, upon the drifted snow,
An^wrting with killing anguish, lamented loud her woe ;
She^hMiher babe's pale lips, and laid it by her side,
Then^Kher eyes to heaven, then bowed her head and
dieT^

^•^\, ' *'■ ■

mfi

198

INITftUCTIVB RIADBR.

THE soldier's DREAM.

Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowered.
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky ;

And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered|
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain ;

At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,
And thrice, ere the morning, I dreamed it again.

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roamed on a deso)ate«track ;

'Twas Autumn, and sunshine arose on the way,
To th^ home of my fatherii that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pl^sant fields traverse^p oft>

In life's morning WMi&f when mfposom was young ;

I heard my own moflRWhgoats bleating aloft.
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.^

*.«,

Then pledged we the wine-cup, end fonitty I swore,
From my hone and my weeping frieiidr never to party |

My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, r

And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness ofheej

Stay, itay with us ; rest, ttMJjiAHpnl Wam,
Andikin was their war-braHRMPis staf^

But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,
And the voice himy dreamingeer tt0Hed viv^i

CMybtfl

THI PLiftOA^Of RS8T.

There isa^tlace of peacefiil rest

To mourning wandereil given |
There is a tear (ot souls distresi
A balm for every wounded bi
'Tis found above — in h^Avea

^.;*V'"T

>gs

irtj

lUfTRUOTIVB RIAD1B»

There is a loft, a downy bed,

'Tis fair as breath of even !
A couch for weary mortals spread.
Where they may rest their aching head,

And find repose in heaven I

There is a home for weeping souls,

By sin and sorrow driven ;
When tost on life's teHipestuous shoali
Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,

And all is drear — but heaven j

There faith lifts up the tearful eye.

The heart with anguish riven.
And views the tempest passing by.
The evening shadows quickly fly.
And all serene in heaven !

There fragrant flowera immortal bloom.
And joys supreme are given }

There rays divine disperse the glooin ;

Beyond the confines of the tnmb
Appears the dawn of heaven !

199

MOTHCir^ 9«nrAT IS DliTR f

<* Mother, how still the-baby lies !
;l cannot heor hirbreath ;
;'f cannot see his laughing eyies—-
They tell me this is death.

My little work I thought to bring.
And sat down by his bed.

And pleasantly! tried to sing —
They hushed me — he is dead. - '

Thenr ttHf that he again will riaty
MoTQ beautifiil than now ;

800 UflTRUOTIVB BIADBK.

That God will Ueit him in the ikiet—
Oh, mother, tell me how!*'

<< Daughter, do you lemember, dear,
The cold, dark thing jou brought.

And laid upon the casement here —
A withered worm, you thought 1

I told you that Almighty power
Could break that withered ahell,

And show you, in a future hour,
Something would please you well,

Look at the chryaalia, my love, —

An empty shell it lies ;-r-
Now raise your wandering glance abov«-

To where yon insect flies !"

«0h, yes, mammi^! how very ge^

Its wings of starry gold !
And see ! it lightly flies away

Beyond my gentle hold.

^ 0, mother, now I kaow full well,
If God that worm can change,

^^ And draw i( from this broken oelly
On golden wings to ranft-^

* How beautiAil will brother be,

'When God shall give Aim wings,
Above this dying world to flee.
And live with heivenly things !"

«'>iMia.

THE SflZTOlf.

l^igh to a grave that was newly made.
Leaned a aezton old on hia«arth-wom spade

^■;'

nuTRUCTiTa iiAom. 201

Hit work wtt done, and he pauied to wait
The funeral train through the open gale t
A relie of hy-gone dayi waa he*
And hit locka were white ai the foamy aet-^
And these words rame from hia lips so thin,
<* I gather them in ! I gather them in !'>

^ I gather them in I for man and boy,
Tear after year of grief and joy,
IVe builded the houtes that lie around
In every nook of this burial ground.
If other and daughter, father and son
Come to my solitude, one by one —
But come tney strangers, or come they kin,
I gather them in ! I gather them in I

^ Many are with me, but still I'm alone I

I am king of the dead — and I make my throne

On a monument slab of marble cdd,

And my scepire of role is thf spade I hold.

Come they from cottage, or oome they from halt— >

Mankind are my aubjecta— all, all, all I

Let them loiter in pleasure or toilfuliy spin— «

I gather them in ! I gather them in I

*< I gather them in— « and their finaV rest,
Is here, down here m the earthV dark breast^—**
And the sexton ceased — (or the funeral train
Wound mutely over that solemn plain ; jt

And I said to my heart— when time is told^ .
A mightier voice than that sexton's old »
Will sound o'er the last tnMRp's dreadful din—-
« I gather them in ! I gather them in I"

PIJLT SATUBtoAT.

I love to look on a aotne like this,
Of wild and carelesa play,

'! 1^

v^:

202 IN8TRU0TIVB RBADSR.

And penuiade myselC that I am not old,
And my loc^s ar^ not yet grey ;

For it 8tin the blood in an old man's heart
And it makes his pulses fly,

To cjatoh the thrill of a happy voice^
And the. light o^ a pleasant eye.

I have walked the world for fourscore years^

And they say tha^t I am old ;
And my heart is ripe foe the reaper Death,

And my years are well nigh told.
It is very true — it is very true—

I'm old, and "I bide my time'*
But my heart will leap at a scene like this,

And I half renew my prime*

Play on ! play oa ! I- am with you there,

In the midst of your merry ring ;
I can feel the thrill of the daring jump

And the rush of the breathless swing.
I hide with you in the fragrant hay,

And whoop the smothered call ;
And my feet slip up on the seedy floor,.

And I care not for the (all.

I am willing to die when my time ahall come,

And I shall be glad to go,
For the world, at^t, is a weary place^

And my: pulse is beating sWw.;
But the grave is dark, and the heart will fail

In treading its gloomy way ;
And M wiles n^J^ast from its dreariness.

irwk.

WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER t

Q^balistHAt, mothect

^ l^he lark, my child.-—
The morn: has bu( justlooked^out^ and: smiled,

■:^■»nJ(^v.*^;»lP^^*„»(e'!>*^'^

:'.,»»,'li-W«S.''«<^"'«»!'^;'.'^ '

iifSTRtetiTi nfeAfiii.

20S

WWII-

When he starts from his hiimbte, ^ssy nest.
And is up and away with the dew on his breast,
And a hymn in his neatrt to yon pore bright epheie,
To warble it out in his Maker's ear.
Ever, my child, be thy thorn's first lays
Tuned like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise.

What is that, mother t

The dove, my son. — ^

And that low, sweet voice, like a widow's moan^ ^
Is flowing out from her gentle breast,
Constant and pure by that lonely nest.
As the wave is poured from some chrystal urn,
For her distant dear one's quick return.
Ever my dear son be thoti like the dovc,-^
In friendship as faithful, as constant in l<^

What is that, mother t -r

The eagle, boy.—
Proudly careering his course of joy.
Firm in his own mountain vi^ur relying.
Breasting the dark storm, the red boh d^ing ;
His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun,
He swerves not a hair, but bears onward; right en.
Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine,
On and upward, true to the line.

What is that, mother?

The swan, my love.—
He is floating down from his native grove,
No loved one now, no Aeitling nigb,
He is floating down %y himself to die ;
Death darkens his eye, and' Qfiplumes hii wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the Int^he sings^
Live so, my love, that tvfceh death ffiall come,
Swan-like and sweet, it may waft ftee home. cw. !><.>••.

M',

2(H

INfTRUCTIVE RBADER.

■

OMNIPRBSBNCI OF GOD.

Above— ^below — where'er I gaze^
Thy guiding finger, Lord, I vievr,

Traceid in the midnight's planet blaze.
Or gliatening in the morning dew :

Whatever is beautiful or fair,

Is but thine own reflection there.

I hear thee in the stormy wind,
That turns the ocean wave to foam ^

Nor less thy wondrous power I find.
When summer airs around we roam ;

Th^ tempest and the calm declare

Thyself, for thou art every where.

I find thee in the depth of night,
And read thy name in every star

That drinks of splendour from the light,
That flows from mercy's beaming car ;

Thy footstool. Lord, each stany gem

Composes— not thy diadem.

•

And when the radiant orb of light
Hath tipped the mountain tops with gold.

Smote with the blaze my wearv sight,
I shrunk from the wonders I beheld ;

That ray of glory, bright aid fair

Is but thy living shadow there.

Thine is the silent noon of night,
The twilight eve— the dewy morn $

Whate'er is beautiful and bright.
Thine hands hath fashioned to adorn.

Thy glory walks in every sphere.

And all thing* wif[Mr, " God is here !'*

A«o«.

but

town

aider

in xh

into 1

said

thati

This

he ne

ous li

impro

letten

tion Q

preset

him I

Ment:

the tit;

tion tc

forme(

ages (

ranks

and th

this in

partoi

ledge.

1215,

^—iiimnnilui' iic-ai'iiWiAWwHiWiH^— Hi

SECTION V.

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

THE ART OF PRmTINO.

iS^'k'l^ ^.i-*

Aim.

Various cities have claimed the honour of this invention ^
but it is now generally admitted to be due to Haerlem, a
town in Holland. It is attributed to Lawrence Koster, an
alderman in that city, in 1440. Amusing himself one day
in the neighbouring wood, with cutting the bark of trees
into the letters that formed the initials of his name, he is
said to have laid them on paper, and afterwards observed,
that from the dew their foriin was impressed on the paper.
This accident induced him to make further experiments ;
he next cut his letters in wood, and dipping them in a glutin-
ous liquid, impressed them on paper, which he found an
improvement; and soon after, substituting leaden and pewter
letters, erected a press in his house ; thus laying the founda-
tion of this noble ar!, which has thus gradually risen to its
present excellence. The art, it is said, was stolen from
him by his servant, John Faustus, who conveyed it to
Mentz, and from the novelty of the jdiscovery, soon acquired
the title of doctor and conjurer.

By the gradual improvement of this art, and its applica-
tion to the diflusion of knowledge, a new era has been
formed in the annals of the human race. In the flourishing
ages of Greek and Roman literature, none but persons of
rank and property could acquire any knowledge of letters ;
and this must have ever continued to be the case, had not
this invention, by reducing books to less than a hundredth
part of their former price, facilitated the diffusion of know-
ledge. We have it from good authority, that about A. D.
1215, the Countess (>f Anjoru gave two hundred sheep, five
s

206

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

quarters of wheat, and the same quantity- of rye for a volume
of sermons; and it is also upon record, that the value of
manuscript bibles commonly was from 400 to 500 crowns,
— a sum which, according to the relative value of money
then and now, could not be less than as many pounds ster-
ling at the present day. How trifling would be the literary
aitainments of the people of modern Europe, if such a state
of things still existed ! The typographic art has contributed
infinitely more to the improvement of the human mind, and
civilization of the species than all the speculations and dis-
coveries of philosophy.

To it we owe the Reformation from Popery — the rank
we occupy as a nation— the sublime discoveries of science,
— the blessed diffusion of religion. And if ever the benefac-
tors of mankind deserved to have statues erected to their
honour, the inventors of the art of printing are certainly the
men ; for of all events which have ever happened among
mankind, this invention constitutes, nqxt to the establish-
ment of Christianity, the most interesting and important.

McCuUocb's Course of Reading.

CN PRATER.

From the beginning of the world to (he present day, the
sober minded and thinking part of mankind have regarded
prayer as a duty of high importance. The wise have con-
sidered it as strengthening that sense of dependence, those
sentiments of gratitude, of reverence, and of love, which
are due from the creature, to the bountiful, ever-present, all
perfect tJreator ; — as exciting our benevolence towards
those, with and for whom we pray j — and as awakening a
right sense of our sinfulness and infirmity. The conscien-
tious have esteemed it a duty enforced by the express com-
mand of God. The pious have found it a privilege, conveying
joys and honours, which the world knoweth not. Its blessed
influence is not confined to the sunny hours of life, when
every pulse is health, and every sense is pleasure. Thou-
sands have attested that it can pour upon the season of
sickness, of poverty, of reproach and of death, not flashes
of momentary rapture merely, but calm, enduring, ineflable

'yMiia;ft[iiiiiii>fiiiS>i'ri"'i

XlfSTRUCTIVE READER*

207

joy. — Before it caa accomplish such eflects, it must hare

irse of Reading.

tUJCUlllU^iot only " the form of sound words," but the utter-
ance or the heart, — not an occasional resort in difficulty or
distress, but the settled habit of the soul. I solemnly warn
my young readers against considering any form of words,
— even though drawn from the oracles of the living God, —
sufficient of themselves to constitute a prayer acceptable
to the Almighty, or useful to the souls of men. Godisa
spirit : and they that worship him^ must worship him in
spirit. No prayer deserves the name, which is not Iho
overflowing of an humble, penitent, and obedient heart ;
nor can any be accepted of God, which is not made in a
lowly sense of our own unworlhiness, and offered to him
in the name of a crucified Redeemer. Therefore, let every
act of devotion be preceded by a sincere and earnest endea-
vour to awaken in ourselves dispositions suitable to prayer.^
Before praise, let us raise our minds to contemplate the
perfections of Jehovah, lest we incur the guilt of those who
honour him with their mouths while their heart is far from
him. Before thanksgiving, let us call to mind his benefi-
cence, lest an empty /or»i of gratitude, when the sentiment
is wanting, be an offence to the Searc' er of Hearts. Be-
fore confession, let us strive to awaken our hati'ed to our
own peculiar sins, lest a careless catalogue of transgressions,
which we intend not to forsake, seem but an audacious
braving of Him, who is of purer eyes than to behold ini-
quity. Before petition, let us humbly consider the urgency
of om necessities and the feebleness of our claims, lest in
begging that, without which we perish, wq come short of
the earnestness and importunity to which the Lord has
promised his blessing. My dear young friends ! it is no
solitary recluse, no surly misanthrope, no fana.ic, no enthu-
siast who addresses you, but a woman in the prime of life,
as cheerful, as happy, though perhaps not quite so gay, as
most of you, — active in the business, alive to many of the
pleasures of the present state of existence. But her chief
business, as well as yours, is to extend the kingdom of God
in her own heart, and in those of others ; and if she should
be made the instrument of attract!t)g even the least of her

"ft'-,

SOS

HfSTRUCTIYI READIR.

feUow-creatnres to that eervice which is perfect freedom,
she will at once give and receive pleasures which excel all
those of a present world, as far as the capacities of angels
exceed those of the babe that was bom this hour.

Mri. Bruntoo.

THE ROMAN JUDGE.

While Octavius was at Samos. aAer the famous battle of
Actiutn, which made him master of the world, he held a
council to examine the prisoners who had been of Antho-
ny's party. Among the rest there was brought before him
a man named Metellus, oppressed with age and infirmities,
disfigured by a long beard and a neglected head of hair, but
especially by his clothes, which, through adversity, were
become ragged. The son of this Metellus was one of the
judges, and had great difficulty to discover his father in the
deplorable condition in which he now saw him. At length,
however, recollecting his features, instead cf being ashamed
of his unhappy parent, he ran with tears to embriice him.
Then returning to the tribunal, " Caesar," said he, " my
father has been your enemy, and I your officer ; he deserves
to be punished, and I to be rewarded. The favour I ask
of you is, that you would save him on my account, or order
me to be put to death with bim.'* All the judges were
touched with compassion at this affecting scene. Octavius
himself relented, and granted to old Metellus his life and
liberty.

CHANGES OF THE UNIVERSE.

Every thing around us is in a constant state of motion,
yet tiothing falls into disorder. The heavenly bodies per-
form their revolutions with the utmost regularity. Even
those ecceniric bodies, comets, have their orbits, and travel
regularly within their allotted space. How regularly and
invariably do the seasons depart and return ! Spring and
sunitner, seed-time and harvest, never fail \o return. The
visible world itself is perpetually undergoing changes. The
earth is constantly being deprived of its nourishing juices by
the plants and roots. But is it, therefore, worn out and

.;..it.kaaiwaiiM£tJ>.t^-.«te*ife..

INITRUCTIVB RBADBR.

209

^reedom,
sxcel all
»f angels

ri> Biuatoa.

! battle of
le held a
»f Antho-
sfore him
ifirmitied,
hair, but
jity, were
ne of the
tier in the
M length,
; ^shauned
ruce him.
he, "my
I deserves
lur I ask
t, or order
Iges were
Octavius
life and

motion,

)die8 per-

Even

Ind travel

flarly and

King and

Irn. The

ges. The

[ juices by

out and

rendered sterile ? No ; for the same wise Being who has
ordained that the vegetable and animal creation shall de*
pend upon the earth's fecundity for support, has ordained,
likewise, that that fecundity shall be perpetually renewed
and maintained. With our own frames it is the same. At
every instant of our lives we are literally wearing out our
bodies. Insensible perspiration alone deprives us every day
of some pounds weight of our substance. But the aliments
which God has provided for us, replace the waste thus
caused, and restore us the strength we expend.

How wonderful is the wisdom which has thus provided
for the continued existence of the universe ! How won-
derful, also, is the power which has from the beginning of
^^time instituted this unvarying succession of circumstances !
Can we reflect upon the innumerable manifestations of this
power, and of this wisdom, without feeling the highest ad-
miration and the utmost humility 1 Above all, when we
reflect upon the innumerable instances in which, to this
power and this wisdom, there is added a boundless and al-
most incredible benevolence, can we fail to be penetrated
by the most sincere and profound gratitude 1 If we medl-
tata aright we surely cannot : let us then, not become guilty
as well as unwise, by neglecting thus to meditate.

Giii4« to Knowledge.

BENJAMIN FRAWKLIN.

Benjamin Franklin was the son of a tallow-chandler at
Boston, in the United States. His father, who was a poor
man, brought him up as a printer. Benjamin was fond of
reading, and f^pent all the money he could spare in buying
books. At the same time he did not neglect his work. —
He lived sparingly, and never wasted his time. When se-
venteen years old, he removed to Philadelphia, andjhere
worked for some time with a printer named Keimer. He
was already, by his talents and diligence, able to write a
letter in neat and proper language. It dhanced that the
Governor of the province saw a letter he had written, and
thought so highly of it that he went to seek for the young
printer at his master's shop, and invited him to his bouse.

I. ' I

210

INSTRUCTITE RSAD£R/'

% \

Franklin soon after went to London, in England, where he
worked for some time with various printers. While the
other workmen spent five or six shillings a-week on beer,
and thus were always muddling their brains, Benjamin
drank no fermented or spirituous liquor, and, thus, while
much clearer in the head, and much healthier than they,
he saved a little money. At twenty years of age, he re-
turned, much improved, to Philadelphia, where, soon after,
he set up in business with Mr. Kcimer. He was now ex-
tremely industrious. Every day he composed or arranged
the types of a sheet of small folio, besides attending toother
business. His neighbours, pleased with his diligence, his
honest and correct behaviour, and his lively talents, brought
h'pi all the custom they could j and thus he could not fail io
prosper. He now set up a newspaper, which he conducted
with so much prudence and ability, that it acquired a great
circulation, and brought him in much profit. Siill, however,
to shew that he was not spoilt by his success, he dressed
very plainly, lived frugally, and vvould sometimes be seen
wheeling along a barrow containing the paper which he had
purchased for his printing-office. He then set up as a sta*
tioner, commenced a subscription library, and began to pub^*
lish an annual work entitled Poor RichanTs Mmanack,
which contained a great number of prudent and sensible
advices. Still, amidst all his cares, he gave much of his
time to the in.provement of his mind. At thirty, so great
was the respect he had gained amongst his fellow-citizens,
that he was appointed clerk to the House of Assembly for
the province, and next year he became deputy-post-master*
At the sarae time, he did not forget that, with such abilities
as he possessed, he owed a certain duty to his fellow-
creatures. He set up a philosophical society for cultivating
science and letters ; he established a superior academy for
the education of youth ; and he was the means of establish-
ing a company for insurance against loss by fire. Indeed,
almost all the public affairs of the province were more or
less directed by Benjamin Franklin.

Afterwards, he engaged in scientific investigations. In
the year 1752, by means of a kite^ he drew down eleotricity

IMSTRUOTITI RBADSR.

211

vhere he
iThile the
on beer,
lenjamin
IS, while
lan they,
B, he re-
>on after,
now ex-
arranged
I to other
snce, his
3, brought
not fail to
onducted
>d a great
however,
e dressed
s be seen
ch he had

as a sta*
in to pub*
Umanackf
d sensible
ich of his
■, so great
(T-citizens,
lembly for
)st-ina8ter«
^h abilities
is fellow-
cultivating
Ademy for

establish-
Indeed,
re more or

Ltions. In
electricity

from thunder-clouds, by which he was the first to shew that
lightning and the electric fluid are the same thing. This
discovery made the name of the Philadelphia printer famous
throughout Europe. When hu had arrived at a mature
period of life, the American provinces and the Mother
Country engaged in a war, which ended in the former be-
coming independent of the latter. In this contest Franklin
took a leading part. He for some years acted as ambassa-
dor from his native country to the king of France — which
gave him occasion to remember a passage of Scripture
which his father would sometimes repeat, *< Seest thou a
man diligent in business? he shall stand before kings'' — the
full sense of which we can only feel when it is known that
in the East, long ago, as well as now, to 5/an(/ before a king
was a high mark of honour, while to sit is the greatest
honour with us. Thus Benjamin Franklin concluded his
life in wealth and honour far above Ihat of most men, though
he had originally entered life a vory poor boy.

When one man has done vveM in the world, it is natural
for the rest to wish to know by what means he prospered.
If we make this inquiry respecting Franklin, we shall find
satisfactory answers in the writings he left us. He says,
" The way to wealth, if you desire il, is as plain as the way
to market. It depends chiefly on two words — industry and
frugality ; that is, waste neither time nor money, but make
the best use of both. Without industry end frugalit]?, no-
thing will do; and with them every thing. After industry
and frugality, nothupg contributes more to the raising of a
young man in the world, than punctuality and justice in all
his dealings. Diligence," he adds, " is the moiher of good
luck. God gives all things to industry. Work while il is
called to-day, for you know not how much you may be
hindered to-morrow. If you were a servant, would ' '^w
not be ashamed that a good master should catch you * ?
If, then, you are your own master, be ashamed to catch
yourself idle."

IRON.

Moral CIms Book.

Iron is a metal of a livid greyish colour, hard and elastic,
and capable of receiving a high polish. Its weight is nearly

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

eight times as great as that of water. Of all the metals there
ii none which, on the whole, is so useful, or so copiously
and variously dispersed as iron. Indeed its value is beyond
all estimate. — ** Without it,", says Fourcroy, << agriculture
could not have existed, nor could the plough have rendered
the earth fertile. The philosopher, wliile he studies the
progress of the human understanding, and compares the
fortune and state of the different nations established on vari-
ous portions of the surface of the globe, will remark, that
their iron -works seem, in some measure to be proportioned
to their intelligence, to the advancement of reason amongst
them, and the degree of perfection to which arts have arriv-
ed. When we consider it in this point of view, as the
agent by which men, in the variety of its uses, and the
numerous wants it supplies, acquire enjoyments which
would be unknown to them if they did not possess these
products of their industry, iron must singularly contribute to
extend their ideas, to multiply their knowledge, and con-
duct their spirits towards that perfectibility which nature
has given, no lesb as the character of the human species
than as the source of all the advantages it can enjoy." The
uses of iron were ascertained at a very early period of the
worid. Moses speaks of furnaces for iron, and of the ores
for which it was extracted, and tell us that swords, knives,
axes, and instruments for cutting stones, were, in his time,
all made of this metal. The ores of iron are now found in
every quarter of the globe, bnt the most considerable iron
mines at present existing are those in Great Britain, and
France. The former country is particularly favoured both
for the excellence of its native iron, and th^ prodigious ad-
vantage which the steam-engine gives the inhabitants in its
manufactures.

After iron is dug out of the earth, it is broken into small
pieces, or sometimes crushed by machinery. This operation
ended, one of the first processes is that of roasting. This
is effected by mixing it with refuse coal and lighting the
whole mass, and the object of the manufacturer is to de-
tach the sulphur and some other extraneous substances that
are capable oi being separated by heat. The next process

^'^■ n !ff! ^?? !TC''y''^^fgW|!J?^^

nflTRUCTlVI MADIB.

918

tals there

lopiously

B beyond

^riculture

rendered

idies the

•ares the

on vari-

ark, that

lortioned

amongst

ive arriv-

r, as the

and the

Is which

less these

tribute to

and con-

;h nature

n species

'." The

od of the

' the ores

}, knives,

his tinnoi

found in

able iron

ain, and

ired both

gious ad-

nts in its

ito small
operation
^ This
hting the
is to do-
nees that
:t process

ii to mis it with a certain portion oflimeatone and char*
coali and by the aid of a blast furnace, to fuse or melt the
iron. Near the bottom of the furnace there is a tap-bole,
through which the liquid metal is discharged into (urrowa
made in a bed of sand. The larger masses are those which
flow into the main furrow, are called tows ; the smaller
ones are denominated /»t^« of iron ; and the general name of
the metal in this state is cast iron. It is afterwards refined,
and becomes bar iron. Iron is employed in three states,—*
of cast iron, wrought iron, and steel. The hammers em«
ployed at the Carron works in Scotland for beating the iron,
weigh about four hundred weight each, and make about two
hundred and fifty blows in a minute.

Iron is converted into steel by keeping bars of iron in
contact with powdered charcoal, during a high state of heat,
for several hours, in earthen troughs or crucibles, the mouths
of which are stopped up with clay. Steel, if heated to red-
ness, and suffered to cool slowly, becomes sol\ ; but if
plunged, while hot, into cold water, it acquires extreme
hardness. Although thus hardened, it may have its softness
and ductility restoied, by being again healed, and suffered to
cool slowly. A piece of polished steel, in heating assumes
first a straw-yellow colour, then a lighter yellow, next be-
comes purple, then violet, then red, next deep blue, and last
of all bright blue. At this period it becomes red hot, the
colours disappear, and metallic scales are formed upon and
incrust its surface. All these different shades of colour in-
dicate the different tempers that the steel acquires by the
mcrease of heat, from that which renders it proper for files,
to that which fits it for the manufacture of watch-springs.

Iron is easily drawn into small wire, and this is effected
by passing the metal through a series of holes in a steel
plate, so that each hole is somewhat smaller than the one
which precedes it. By this means wire for musical instru-
ments, and other purposes, may be procured less than the
hundredth of an inch in diameter. conpued.

THE LITTLE CREOLE.

Mr. Frevill, who has written much for young people,
relates a story of a very affecting nature, concerning a little

IffSTRUOTIVI RIADBR.

kt !J

girl who uved her father*! life by determining to die with
uim. In the fury of the French revolution, an honest Cre-
ole* of St. Pomingo, who had no other fault but that of
being rich, was arresleil, and condemned to die. He was
Recused of being a bad citizen. When he was torn from
the bosom of his family, his daughter, who was a very
young girl, followed him, and determined to share his fate,
whatever it might be. The Creole was the first of the vio
tims whom they were about to immolate. His eyes were
bound, and he was kneeling, while the soldiers, who were
charged with the cruel office of putting him to death, had
alreudy presented their arms, and in one minute this un-
happy man would have been launched into eternity, j At
the moment when the signal was to have been given, the
little girl wad observed running in the greatest confusion,
and she had sprung upon her father before they had time
to think of stopping her. She grasped him in her arms, and
held liiin with all the force of which her strength was capa-
ble, crying with a voice almost stifled by her tears. " 0, my
father, we will die together!" Her father, who could not
return her embraces, entreated her to go away, telling her
bbe must live to be the consolation of her mother; but the
child only pressed herself the more closely to him, and con-
tinued re|3cating, " we will die together."

This afTectmg spectacle excited compassion in every
henrt. The soldiers remained motionless, and their com-
matider, who had no longer courage to give the signal for
death, was induced by a sentiment of humanity which had
been stirred up to spare him, formed some pretext to save
him from death, and had him taken back to prison with his
child. A moment's delay was precious in these disastrous
times, and affairs taking a new turn, the poor father was
soon after set at liberty. From that happy day, he never
ceased to relate with emotion this heroic action of his
daughter. The child was at that time only in the tenth
year of her age.

• « •

^Suck u are oTKairopeui orifin, but bora ia tke Wert ladici, »r« called Craolca;

f^Ri;3.!«f»«»Wj<«'3^?j^P«P!P^«5B^

» ,.

IHITRUCTIVI RfiAOtft.

215

e with
lit Cro-
that of
fie was
rn from

a very
lis fatOi
the vio-
» were
iio were
,th, had
this un-
ity. ) At
/en, the
infusion^
lad time
rms, and
'as capa-
« 0, my
piild not
[ling her

but the
ind con-

in every
eir com-
lignal for
hich had

to save
with his
isastrous
ther was
le never
n of his
the tenth

• • •

•olet;

CIRCULATION OF THE BLOOD.

The knowledge of this wonderful function of nature has
conferred incalculable advantages upon mankind. For the
discovery of it, we are indebted to Dr. Harvey, who lived
in the time of Queen Elizabeth.

The following is a general account of the apparatus, by
which the circulation of the blood is carried on. There are
two sets of tubes which carry the blood from the heart to
the extremities of the body, and back again to its main
fountain. The tubes which cnrry it from the heart to the
extremities are called arteries ; those which return it to the
lieart are called veins. Upon the unceasing movement of
the blood at a proper pace through these, health depends.
The arteries joining to the cavities of the heart by great
trunks branch out in all directions into a great number of
very small pipes ; and to convey the precious fluid back
again, the other set of pipes, called veins, join the extremi-
ties of the arteries and receive it from them. The general
appearance of these important tubes, is the same, but the
oflfice of the arteries is to distribute the blood — of the veins
to collect it. The minute veins unite in larger branches, the
branches unite in still larger trunks, till the collected fluid is
at length poured into the heart through one opening, by an
arrangement just the reverse of that by which it set out.
But what, engine it may be asked, works this curious ma-
chinery ? It is propelled by the heart. This is a hollow
muscle situated in the rcntral part of the body ; and, like
all other muscles, it has the power of contracting. It has
four cavities or hollow places, and when its fibres are con-
tracted, the sides of the cavities are squeezed together, so
that any fluid that the heart may at the moment contain is
foroed out. When this is done the fibres relax again, and
the heart once more becomes hollow. As it swells out, the
blood pours into the cavities from the large vein which
brings it back to the heart. The quantity of fluid impelled
into the arteries at each contraction, is always equal to that
which it has just received. The velocity with which the
blood must flow when the heart beats violently is iiicon«

216

INSTRUCTiVti READER.

ceivable ; for, in the ordinary course of nature^ the heart
contracts 4000 times in one hour, each time ejecting about
one ounce of blood, or tnro table spoonsful. Thus does this
wonderful organ go on month after month, year after year,
without weariness or interruption, alternately contracting and
dilating itself, iOOO times in an hour, conveying renewed
strength to every part of the body. It hence follows, that,
there passeth through the heart every hour 4000 ounces^ or
350 pounds of blood.

Now the whole mass of blood in a full grown person is
about twenty- five pounds ; so that a quantity of blood, equal
to the whole blood within the body, passes through the
heart fourteen times in one hour, which is about one ounce
every four minutes.

In all this there is great evidence of wise contrivance. As
the arteries which disperse the blood are smaller than the
veins, it follows that the blood presses their sides with greater
force than it acts against the coats of the veins. For this
greater pressure the arteries are fitted by bei.ng formed of
much tougher and stronger materials than the veins. It
should also be noticed as a mark of wise design, that all the
arteries are furnished with valves that play easily forward,
but do not admit the blood to return to the heart.

There is still another circumstance remarkably illustra-
tive of the Great Artificer, by whom we are so " wonder-
fully made." As a wound in the arteries through which
the blood passes with such force from the heart, would be
more dangerous than a wound in the veins, the former are
defended by a more sheltered situation. They are deeply
buried among the muscles or they creep along grooves made
for them in the bones. In the fingers, for example, which
are liable to so many injuries, the bones are hollowed out
in the inside, and along this channel the artery runs in such
security, that you may cut your finger to the bone withou-
doing it any injury. The under side of the ribs is also elopt
ed and furrowed, to allow these important tubes to pass along
in safety, ccpiw.

the heart
ting about
I does this
after year,
acting and
g renewed
lows, that,
ounces, or

I person is
lood, equal
hrough the
; one ounce

i?ance. As
;r than the
with greater
1. For this
r formed of
3 veins. It
, that all the
ily forward,
rt.

bly illustra-
> « wonder-
rough which
rt, would be
e former are

are deeply
rooves made
nple, which
iollowed out
runs in such
one withou-

is also elopt

Instructive rbadbi.

M0BB8 ROTHSCHILD.

217

CoapiM*

At the time of t^e French Revolution there lived at
^'raiikfort on the Maine, a Jewish banker, of limited means,
but good reputation, named Motes BothschiM. , When the
French army invaded Germany^ the Prince of Hesse Cas-
sel was obliged to 6y from his dominions. As he passed
through Frankfort he requested Moses Rothschild to take
charge of a large sum of money and some valuable jewels,
which he feared might otherwise fall into the hands of the
enemy. The Jew would have declined so great a charge,
but the prince was so much at a loss for the means of sav-
ing his pireperty, that Moses at length consented. He de-
clined, however, giving a receipt for it, as in such danger-
ous circumstances he could not be answerable for its being
safely restored.

The money and jewels, to the value of several hundred
thousand pounds, were conveyed to Frankfort ; and just as
the French entered the town, Mr. Rothschild had succeed-
ed in burying it in a corner of his garden. He made no
attempt to conceal his own property, which amounted only
to six thousand pounds. The French accordingly took this
without suspecting that he had any larger sum in his pos-
session. Had he, on the contrary, pretended to have no
money, they would have certainly searched, as they did in
many other cases, and might have found and taken the
whole. When they left the town, Mr. Rothschild dug up
the prince's money, and began to make use of a small por-
tion of it. He now prospered in his business, and soon
gained much wealth of his own. «».^

A few years after, when peace came, the Prince of Hesse
Gassel returned to his dominions. He was almost afraid
to call 6n the Frankfort banker, for he readily reflected that
if the French had not got the money and jewels, Moses
might pretend they had, and thus keep all to himself. To
his great astonishment, Mr. Rothschild informed him that
the whole property was safe, and now ready to be returned,
with five per cent interest on the money. The banker at
the same time related by what means he had saved it, and
T

818

llfSTRUCTIVfe 1I»A1>BB.

apologised for breaking upon the inoney-| by representing,
that, to save it, he had to sacrifice all his own. The prince
was 80 impressed by the fidelity of Mr. Roffaschild under
his great trusty that he allowed the money to remain in his
hands at a small rate of interest, f To mark also his grati-
tude, he recommended the honest Jew to various Eurbpean
sovereigns, as a money-lender. Moses was consequently
employed in several great transactions for raising loani^ by
which he realised a vast profit. In time he became im-
mensely rich, and put his three sons into the same kind of
business in the three chief capitals of Europe — London,
Paris, and Vienna.i All of them prospered. They became
the wealthiest pnvate men whom the world had ever
known. He who lived in London, left at his death ser: >
millions sterling. The other two have been created baroui.
and are perhaps not less wealthy. Thus, a family, whv»ci
purse has maintained war, and brought about peace, owes
all its greatness to one act of extraordinary honesty under
trust.

WAR.

Monti Claii Book.

'* The first great obstacle to the extinction of war, is the
way in which the heart of man is carried off from the hor-
rors by the splendour of its accompaniments. There is a
feeling of the sublime in contemplating the devouring energy
of a tempest ; and this so engrosses the whole man, that his
eye is blind to the tears of bereaved parents, and his ear is
deaf to the piteous moan of the dying, and the shriek of
-their desolated families. There is a gracefulness in the
picture of a youthful warrior burning for distinction in the
field :y-and this side of the picture is so much the exclusive
obgecc of our regard as to disguise firom our view th^ man-
gled carcasses of the fallen, and the writhing agonies of the
hundreds and the hundreds more who have been laid on the
•cold ground, where they are left to languish and to die.—
There no eye pities them. No sister is there to weep oyer
them. There no gentle hand is present to ease the dying
posture, or to bind up the wounds, which, in the madden-
ing fury of the combat, have been given and received by the
children of one common Father. chaiaeri.

esenting,
tie prince
ltd under
III in his
hit greti-
Eurbpean
sequently
loans, by
same im-
e kind of
-London,
y became
had ever
lath Ed'iZ'^
ed baro. >
ily, whci»d
ace, owes
isty under

:Imi Book.

rar, is the
tn the hor-
rhere is a
ing energy
in, that his
his ear is
} shriek of
ess in the
ion in the
) exclusive
7 th^ man-
>nies of the
laid on the
1 to die.—
weep over
) the dying
e madden-
dved by the

Cbatafieri'

INSTRUCTIVE ItE4D£B*

ikDV£NTURB OV A dVAKIR VUSSL.

219

The religious body called Quakers, or Friends, an dis-
lingttiahed by tlieir never engaging in war, or resisting any
kind of violence that may be offered to them. In the reign
of Charles II. of England, an English merchant- vessel,
trading between London and yenice, was commanded by a
Quaker ; the mate, whose name was Thomas Luiting, was
of the same persuasion, but the rest of the crew, four in
number, were ordinary Christians*' The vessel In one of
its vovf^ges homeward from Venice, was taken by Turkish
pirates, ten of whom came on board of it, in order to '^irry
it to Africa, where these men were accustomed to sell eir
prisoners as slaves. The second night afterwards, w n
the Turkish captain was sleeping below with several of i.is
men, Thomas Lurting persuaded the rest one after another,
to go into different cabins, that they might shelter them-
selves from the rain, which was falling heavily. When he
found them all asleep, he gathered their arms together into
one place, and said to his men, ^< Now .we have the Torka
entirely in pw command : let us not, however, hurt any of
them ; we shall only keep them below until we reach Ma-
jorca." Majorca being an island of the Spaniards, he cal-
culated upon being safe there, and upon soon being able to
return to England.

In the morning a Turk coming to the cabin -door, was
allowed to go on deck, where he was greatly surprised to
find the vessel once more in the hands of the English crew,
and not far firora Majorca. Going below, he told the rest,
who were quite confounded by the news. With tears in
their eyes, they entreated that they might not be sold to the
Spaniards, whom they knew to be very cruel masters. The
master and mate promised that their Kvea and liberties
should be safe, and took measures to keep them concealed,
while the vessel should remain in port at Majorca* The
Turks were very much pleased at this kindnef>8, so different
from the treatment they had designed for the English.

While the vessel lay in the harbour, the master of ano«>
ther English ship came on bQard» and to him they conftM

320

tHUrtLVCTlVK READER.

their secrot, telling him that they wculd not sell their Turk-
ish prisoneriy but land them, if possible, on some part of
the African coast.

The stranger laughed at them for their generodty and
told them that they might get two hundred pieces of gold
for each man ; to ivhich they repf'ed, that they would not
sell them for the whole island. Ther visitor, c )ntrary to
bis premise, disclosed the secret, and a resolution \v%a form-
ed amongst the Spaniards to seize the Turks. The two
Quakers, hearing what was designed, instantly set sail, and
by the aid of their prisoners, they surceeded tn escaping
pursuit. For it'ie days they cruised about the Mediterran-
ean uncertain what course to take to get quit of their priso-
ners, but determined not to land them in any Christian
country. On or.e occasion the Turks made an attempt to
regain the commanf) of the vessel, but were quietly pat
down by the master and mate.^The English crew then
began to grumble at the danger to which they were exposefl
by their superiors, who they said, preferred the lives of the
Turks to theis own. The vessel was all this time under-
going the risk of being recaptured by some other Turkish
roverd. Still the master and mate adhered to their resolu-
tion of avoiding bloodshed and the guilt of slavery. At
length, having approached the coast of Barbary, it came to
be debated how they were to set the Turks on shore. To
h.'ive given them the boat for this purpose would have been
dangerous, for they might have returned in it with arms,
and taken the vessel. If sent with a portion of the crow,
they might rise upon these men, and throw them into the
sea. If sent in two detachments, that first landed might
have raised thd natives, and attacked the boat on its second
arrival. At length Lurting offered to take the whole ashore
at once, with^ the aid of two men and a boy. The captain
consented to this arrangement, which was carried into effect
without any accident. The Turks, on being set'down on the
beach were so much reconciled to their generous captors,
as to ask them to go along to a neighbouring village, where
they promised to treat them liberally. But Lurting thought
it more prudent to return immediately^

IMfTRUCTlVl RBADKR.

sat

Favourable winds brought the vesiel quickly to England,
where the ttory of the captured Turks was already known*
So great an interest did the forbearing conduct of the Quak-
ers excite, that the King, the Duke of York, and sever^t!
noblemen, came on board at Greenwich, to see the men
who could act so extraordinary a part. The King took
much the same view of the case which the English cdptain
at Majorca had taken. To Thomas Lurting he said, ** You
should have brought the Turks to me ;" to which the mate
onlv made the mild reply, ** I thought it better for them to
be in their own country." y mn^ty^iun^urv

THB T0UM6 SHOULD BB PREPARED FOR DEATH.

Ye, my young friends, are apt to reckon yourselves privi-
leged from death ; you put the evil day far off; you pro-
mise to yourselves a length of happy days, and think that
melancholy reflections upon moE.::'':y are ill suited to the
bloom of your years, and the gaiety of your spirits. But
trust not, man in thy youth, nor presume upon impunity
from the destroyer, ilow often, when the tree puts forth
buds, and spreads its blossoms to the sun, does the wind of
the desert come, and blast the hones of the year ! The
widow of Nain wept over her son, who died fair in the
prime of life ; and many a parent hath followed his child to
the grave, crying wuh bitter lamentations; ''' Would to God
that I had died for thee, my son ! my son P' Your own
experience may enforce this truth. None who now hear
me, but have seen their equals in age cut off, and younger
than they laid in the grave. As, therefore, you are always
in danger, be always on your guard. Instead of filling yoa
with gloom and melancholy, this is the true way to prevent
them. Having subdued the last enemy, you have none
other to fear. Then all things are vours ; Death is a pas-
sage to a better life, and the gate of immortality. ^oean.

GRACE DARLING.

In the month of September, in the year IS38, the Forfar-
shirei a steam- vessel proceeding from Hull to Dundee,

Si^t

INitiltJCtltC RBADEtl.

eneotinffdred^iM ifough wtoather dflf (hie cMit of Kdithtttt-
boHafnd. ThiB i^emi not be}ng itroivg, «tid th6 itaiichiiM^
of the irt^am^flWIfiVte defecitivei lihe was wrecked on the
rockictilled thie Gineat Hfld^kai^ at the extremity ofohe of
the Ferhe Mahda. Mctny of the crew and pastengera ivere
wiMhed off the deck and drowned ; and In a aitviition of
<«oh great peril, ho one expected to escape.

Earty in ttie niornit\g, the family who dwelt in the North
Sunderland light-house, on looking abroad, beheld the ves-
sel on the rocks, with « powerful sea beatin<* upon her, and
which threatened her with complete destruction. Darling,
the keeper of the light-house, would fain have gone in his
boat to rescue a few of the distressed passengers, but he de-
spaired of carrying his little bark through such a heavy sea.
He was at length encouraged to make the atttempt by his
daughter Grace, a girl of 22 years of age, who offei^d to ac*
company hrm, and work one of the oars. Thiiy went;
they reached the Wreck ; nine persons trusted their lives to
the boat ; and notwithstanding the r'^ging of the sea, the
whole party arrived safely at the light-house, where evOry
necessary kindness was shewn to the individuals who had
been rescued. As no other persons were saved from the
Wreck, it maly be concluded that these would have perished
bad it not been for the heroism Of Grace Darling, who was
willing to ri^fc her own life rather than allow so many of her
fellow-creatures to sink before her eyes, without an effort
being made in their behalf.

The generous conduct of this young woman attracted
much attention. Her praises were for a tiihe in every
mouth. Artists flocked to her lonely dwelling to take her
portrait, and depict the scene in which she had bi?en en-
gaged. A sum exceeding six hundred pounds, collected by
isubscription, was presented to her; and some of the most
eminent persons of ^he land wrote letters to her, containing
warm exprenions of regard^ It is probable that her o^me
and her heroic act will not soon be forgotten ; for less ad-
mirable actions which took place several thousand years
ago, are still remembered. Yet th la excellent girl, a6 tiiodest
as she was braVe, was heard to remark, that she never

INfTRUCTlVI SBADBR.

MTthtttt-

on the
fohe of

Ation of

16 North
the ves-
heri end
Darling,
ne in his
ut he de-
eavy sea.
pt by his
red to Ac-
)y went;
ir lives to
I sea, the
ere every
who had

from the
i perished
who was
iny of her

an effort

attracted
in every

take her
[been en-
Jlected by

the most
bontaining
Iher n^me
|r less ad-

md years
laBtiiodest
the never

x¥cn\A httve vupposed she had done any thing eztriordtnary,
if her eocdttct had not been to roach spoken of 1^ othen.

MeniacMto'k.

.:£It may be interesting for young readers to be told, that,
the subject of this narrative did not long enjoy the kindness
and approbation of an admiring public — Grace like many
blooming and lovely youths, fell a victirr, to consumption
not long after, and dropped into an earlv grave.]

ON THE MICROSCOPK.

Microscopes " instruments for viewing small objects,
and they apparently magnify objects, because they enable
Us to s6e them nearer than with the naked eye, without af-
fecting the distinctness of visir.i. By making a pin-hole
through a piece of brown paper, within two or three inches
of any small object, the object will apparently be much
magnified, though without the paper it would at that dis-
tance have been imperceptible. Single microaccpei^ of the
greatest power, are very small globules of glass, which are
made by melting the ends of fine threads of glass in the
fiame of a candle j or by taking a little fine powdered glass
on the point of a very small needle, and melting it into a
globule. The most wonderful single microscopes are those
lately made of diamond. When, or by whom the micro-
Scope was invented, is not certainly known, though it is
believed that Drebell, a Dutchman, who had one in l^i^l,
was either the inventor or an early improver of it. Com-
pound riicroscopes consist of at least two lenses, by one of
which an image is formed, and this image is viewed through
*he other lens, called the eye-glass, instead of the object it-
self, as in the single microscope. The microscope has
opened to us a new world of insects and vegetables ; it has
tauglit us that objects invisible to the naked eye, exist, hav-
ing figure, extension, and different parts. By means of this
contrivance we fierceivi^, for infjtance, that the very scales
on the skin of a fish are all beautifully interwoven and va-
riegated like pieces of net-work, which no art can imitate—

224

INSTRUCTIVE RIADIR.

thtt eveiy particle of dint on a buterfly'a wing is a beautiful
and regularly organized feather— that every hair of our head
is a hdlow tube, with bulbs and roots, furnished with a va-
riety of threads and filaments. One of the most wonderful
displays of nature is a drop of putrid water, as exhibited by
a powerful microscope: it is full of living creatures of
strange shapes, and the rapidity with which they seem to
move is pei'fectly astonishing.

Upon examining the edge of a very keen razor with a
microscope, it will appear as broad as the back of a knife ;
rough, uneven, full of notches and furrows. An exceeding-
ly small needle, resembles a rough iron bar. But the
sting of a bee, seen through the same instrument, exhibits
every where a polish most amazingly beautiful, without the
least flaw, blemish or inequality and it ends in a point too
fine te be discerned. Thus sink the works of art before
the microscopic eye. But the nearer we examine the
works of God, even in the least of his productions, the more
sensible shall we be of his wisdom and power. The most
perfect work of man betray a meanness, a poverty, an ina«
bility in the workman ; but the works of nature plainly
prove, that the hand that formed therti was Divine. To
lead to such views the microscope is admirably fitte^l. By
this admirable instrument we behold the same Almighty
hand which roundied the spacious globe on which we live,
and tlie huge masses of the planetary orbs, and directs them
in their rapid courses through the sky — employed, at the
same moment, in rounding and polishing ten thousand min-
ute transparent globes in the eye of a fly, and boring and
arranging veins and arteries, and forming and clasping joints
and claws for the movements of a mite ! compiled

I , THE BUITISH EMPIRE.

In Europe, the British Empire borders, at once, towards
the north, upon Denmark, upon Germany, upon Holland,
upon France ; towards the south, upon Spain, upon Sicily,
upon Italy, upon Western Turkey. It holds the keys of the
Adriatic and the Mediterranean. It commands the mouth
of the Black Sea, as well as of the Baltic.

UVtTRVOTIYl RIADIR.

225

)eautiful
}urbead
ih a va-
onderful
ibited by
iturei of
seem to

)rwitb a
fa knife;
xceeding-
Bat the
, cxh'ibite
riibout the
I point too
art before
imine the
I, the more
Th« most
ty, an ina*
ire plainly
Ivine. To
ite<i. By
Almighty
■h we live,
ii€ct8 them
ed» at the
iiiand min-
K>ring and
ping joints

Compiled

ce, towards
m Holland,
ipon Sicily»
"keys of the
the mouth

In America it gives boondariet to Rasala towards the
poloi and to the (Jnited Stales towards the temperate re«
gtons. Under the torrid zones it reigns in the miost of the
Antilles, encircles the Gulf of Mexico, till at last it meets
those new states, which it was the first to free from their
dependence on the mother country, to make them mere
surely dependent upon its own commercial industry : — and,
at the same time, to secure, in either hemisphere, any mor-
tal who might endeavour to snatch the heavenly fire of its
geniys, or the secret of its conquest, it holds, midway be-
tween Afirica and America, and on the read which connects
Europe with Asia, that rock to which it chained the Pro-
metheus of the modern world.

In Africa — from the centre of that island which was de-
voted of yore^to the safety of every Christian flag— the
British Empire enforces from the Barbery States that respect
which they pay to no other power. From the foot of the
Pillars of Hercules, it carries dread into the remotest pro*
vinces of Morocco. On the shores of the Atlantic it has
built the forts of the Gold Coast and *he Lion's Mountain.
On the same continent, beyond the tropics, and at the point
nearest to the Au«tral pole, it has possessed itself of a shel-
ter under the very Cape of Storms. Where the Spaniards
and the Portuguese thought only of securing a port for their
ships to touch at — where the Dutch perceived no capabili-
ties beyond those of a plantation— it is now establishing the
colony of a second British people ; and uniting English ac-
tivity with Batavian patience, at this moment it is extend-
mg around the Cape the boundaries of a settlement which
will Increase in the south of Africa to the size of those
states which it has formed in the north of America. From
this new focus of action tuA of conquest, it cast its eyes
towards India ; it discovers, it seizes the stations of motit
importance to its commercial progress.

Finally-^as much dreaded In the Persian Gulf and the
Erythrean Sea, as in the Pacific Ocean, and the Indian
Archipelago— the British Empire, the possessor of the finest
countriea of the earth, beholds its factors reign over eighty
roillionB of aubjeccs. The conquests of its merchants in

126

INtTRUCTlTI RIADUU

Alia btgin vtkptp \h<m of Alexander ceaBad,afld whajw the
ler9lia^• of the Romann could oever ropeh. At ik\^ m^
tUdnXf Crom the hankt of the Indus tp the ficoottom of CIMm
rrrftoiu the Ganges to tlie iinountaiiii of Thih^t— ill a^kfj^F-
leofe the away of a mei^aatile oonpany, shut up ia a aa^
row itceet in the City d Loudon. m d^^

THE COI|rfCIKllTIOUa XLICTOa.

The royal burghs in Scotland are divided ii^to foui;* and
fives fur the election of their representitives in parliamiMty
every four or five electing one representative* Fomerly
the electors or voters in each burgh were the ipf mheirs of t^
town-councils, who were genemlly in each caiie abput lix-
tecn or eighteen in number. When the electing biaihs
were four, and two were for one candidate and'twp for
another, the election was settled by a casting or dpub)|i yole
given by one of them.

tt chanced in 1807, when a general election topk plaoe,
that, in a burgh which had the casting vote on that occasion,
the members of the council were so equally divid^ hetweea
the two candidates, that the choice came to depend oj| the
vote of one man ; and he was only a poor black-spnitb.
The agents of one of the candidates went to this humble
artisan to endeavour to secure his vote i but he frapkly iQ»>
formed them that he had made up his mind in flavour of the
Other candidate. They used every argumiBBt thj^y could
think of, to induce him to alter his resolution, but in vain.

They then held out hints, that* if he would vote for their
friend, be should be rewarded with a good post, besides
having his children provided for; but still he remaiaedfirm
to his purpose. He said his vote was a trus$ he enjoyed
for the benefit of his fellow- citizens: he was bound to use
it in the way his conscience told him to be best for their
intereat ; it was not a thing to be disposed of fi>r hlf Qwn
advantage, or to gratify any oti^er single indlvidofd, i||i^ he
therefore would not so dispose of it. The ag|»nti f l|l| p^f-
sistini;, offered him a lar^ sum oTreatjIy monays In i4dlt^P9
to U^e(ir promise of fixture fayqur, but with thf lit^e lilaHP-

iNlltRtJCTlVl REAftCA.

227

B fouiis and

Fonserly

I ftbput iix-
tjng buif^
Ad'twQ for
d^uMii toAB

top)(p1ao«,

ft OCCMiODi

L^ between
bend or the
)lack»finilb.
this bumble

I fraiikly in^
ivour of tbe

tb^y could
lut in vain,
ote for tbeir
Dtt, besides
mai^od firm

he enjoyed
oundto use
est fpr tbeir

for bi4 P^*^

lUfJa w4 he
;nti#lppf-

lil^e ill «^9'

eess. Ther Increased the siim from five hundred to a thou-
sand pounds, and from a thousand to fifteen hundred ; but
all was in vain, although the smalieiit of thes6 sums was
much more than the poor miin could bopeevelr to gather by
honest industry in the whole course of his lifb. lliey then
took their leiive, and ho next day voted for the opposite
candidate, who had conscientiously abstained from offering
him any bribe.

Moral Clati Book.

8T. PHILIP ilCRI AND tHE TOUTH.

St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,

Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day ;

And, being ever courteously inclined

To give young folks a sober turn of mind,

Pie fell into discourse with him ; and thus

Tbe dialogue they held comes down to us.
JV*. Tell me what brings you, gentle yomh, to Rome?
y. To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
JV*. ilnd when you are one^ what do you intend t
Y, To be a priest, 1 hope, sir, in the end.
JV. Suppose it so — what have you next in view ?
Y. That I may get to be a canon too.
JV*. Well ; and how then ?
y. — < Why then, for Ought I know,

I may be made a bishop.
JV. Be itso—

What then 1
y. Why, cardinal's a high degree—

And yet my lot it possibly may be.
y. Suppose it was — what then ?

Why, who can say.

But I've a chance of being pope one day t
JV. Well, having worn the mitre and red hat.

And triple crown, what follows after that?
Y. Nay, there is nothing farther, to be sure,

Upon this earth, that wishing can procure*

When I've enjoyed a dignity so high.

So long as God shall please, then — I must die.

(^88

iNltRUCTlVc kEAbfcftt

•AT. What, muit you die Y fond youth ! and at the h^it
But WISH, and hops, and may bb all the reit/
Take my advice : — whatever may betide,
t^or that which mutt be, first of all provide {
Then for that which may be ; and, indeed,
When well prepared who knows what may succeedy
^t you may be as you are pleased to hope,
i^riest) danon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.

AN EXAMPLE FOR TOUTH.

^ A little boy in destitute circumstances, was put out as an
apprentice to a mechanic. I^or some lime he was the
youngest apprentice, and of course had to go upon errands
for the other apprentices, and not unfrequentiv to procure
for them ardent spirits, of which all except himself par-
took ; because, as they said, it did them good. He, how-
ever, used none ; and, in consequence of it, wu often the
object of severe ridicule from the older apprentices, because,
as they said, he had not sufficient manhood to drink rum.
And as they were revelling over their poison, he, under
their insults and cruelty, often retired, and vented his grief
in tears. But now, every one of the older apprentices, wd
are informed, is a drunkard, or in the drunkard^s grave) and
this youngest apprentice, at whom they used to scoff, is so-
ber and respectable, worth a hundred thousand dollars. In
his employment are about a hundred men, who do not use
ardent spirits ; and he is exerting upon many thousands an
influence in the highest degree salutary, which may be
transmitted by them to future generations, and be the means
of preparing multitudes, not only for usefulness and respect-
ability on earth, but it is hoped also for heaven.

VTctkl/ TiiUcr.
SUPERSTITION.

The foUowihg anecdotes in the very interesting voyage of
Bennet and Tyerman, round the world, very well illustrate
the absurdity and groundlessness of some superstitious fears :

« Our chief mate told us, that on board a ship where he
had served, the mate on duty ordered some of the youths to

IKttRVCTfTB RIADBB.

rt9

cceedf

outfit an
wai the
1 errands
) procure
laelf par-
He, how-
often the
I, because,
Irink rum*
he, under
d his grief
itices, wd
;rav© ) and
sofT, is so*
)llars. In
lo not use
usands an
may be
the means
id respect-

tkly ViiitM.

voyage of
[U illustrate
ViouB fears:
„ where he
|e youths to

raef the main top-sail. When the first got up, he heard a
stranie voice saying, ** It blows hard." The lad waited for
DO more ; he was down in a trice and telling hit adventure.
A second immediately ascended, laughing at the folly of bis
companion, but returned even more quietl", •declaring that
he was quite sure that a voice not of this vvorld had cried
in his ear, <' It blows hard !" Another went, and another,
but each came back with the same talc. At length the
mate, having sent up the whole watch, ran up the shrouds
himself, and when he reached the haunted spot, heard the
dreadful words distinctly uv:ered in jiis enrs, *"' It blows
hard !'* *^Aye, aye, old one ! but blow it c 'nr so hard, we
must ease the eatings for ail that," repfl:*^ the mate un*
dauntedly ; and, looking round, he *«pied a fine par t perch-
ed on one of the clues, the thoughiee^i author of all ihe false
alarms, which had probably escaped from some other ves-
sel, but had not previously been discovered to have taken
refuge on this.

Another of our officers mentioned, that on one of his voy-
ages, he remembered a boy having been sent up to clear a
rope which had got foul about the mizen-top. Presently,
however, he returned back, trembling, and almost tumbling
to the bottom, declaring that he had seen *< Old Davy" /^u
the cross-trees ; moreovefr, that the evil one had a Auge
head and face, with prick ears, and eyes as bright as fire.
Two or three others v'*'i^ «nt up in succession/ to all of
whom the apparition glared forth, and was ident^cd by each
to be " Old Davy," sure enough. The mat^ in a rage, at
length mounted himaelf, when resolutely, as in the fomner
case, searching for the bug-bear, he soop ascertained the in-
nocent cause of so rou( h terror to b* a large horned owl,
so lodged as to be out of sight to ti«ose who ascended on the
other side the vessel, but whit/i, when any one approached
the cross-trees, popped up his portentous visage t© see
what was coming. The male brought him down in tri-
umph, and " Old Davy" the owl became a very peaceable
shipmate among the crew, who were no longer scared by
his horns and eyes ; for sailors turn their backs on nothing
when they know what it is. Had the birds, in these two

180

IMITIUOTIVI IIADIII.

initanceiy departed ai aocretly ai they came, of coune
they would have been deemed aupernatural visitanta to the
respective ahips) by all who had heard the one^ or seen tho
other. The greater number of supposed su|)ernatural
sights and soundSi if thus investigated, would be found to
proceed in like manner from natural causes. wonyviiiior.

TURKISH JUSTIOI.

A grocer in the city of Smyrna had a son, who with tlie
help of the little learning the country could aflbrd, rose to the
post of naib, or deputy of the cadi, or magistrate, and as
such visited the markets, and inspected the weights and
measures of all retail dealers. One day, as this officer was
ginbg his rounds, the neighbours, who knew enough of his
father's character to suspect that he might stand in need of
the caution, advised him to move his weights, for fear of the
worst ; but the old cheat depending on his relation to the
inspector, and sure, as he thought, that his own son would
not expose him to a public affront, laughed at their advice,
and stood very calmly at his shop door, waiting for his
Ncoming. The naib, however, was well assured of the dis-
honesty and unfair dealing of his father, and resolved to
detect his villany, and make an example of him. Accord-
ingly Ve stepped to the door, and said coolly to him, *'Good
man, feuh out your weights, that we may examine them."
Instead of a)eying, the grocer would fain have put it off with
a laugh, but was soon convinced his son was serious, by
hearing him ordt^r the officers to search his shop, and seeing
them produce the instruments of his fraud, which, after an
impartial examinatioh, were openly condemned and broken
to pieces. His shame bxid confusion, however, he hoped
would plead with a son to «xcuse him all farther punish-
ment of his crime: but even thi»> though entirely arbitary,
the naib made as severe as for the most indifferent offender,
for he sentenced him to a fine of fifty plMtres, and to receive
a bastinado of as many blows on the soles of his feet. All
this was executed on the spot, after which the naib, leaping
from his horsei threw himself at his feet, and watering them

INtTRVOTlVI RIADIII.

SSI

f coune
itt to the
leen tho
ernatural
found to

roklyVUItor.

» with the
ose to the
e, and as
ighti and
>fficer was
jgh of hia
in need of
fear of the
ion to the
son would
eir advice,
ng for his
of the dis*
resolved to
Accord-
im, «'Good
ine them."
tit off with
serious, by
and seeing
h, after an
ind broken
, he hoped
er punish-
y arbitary,
nt offender,
d to receive
feet. All
aib, leaping
ktering them

with his tears, addressed him thus: — <* Father, I have dis-
cliarged my duty to mv God, my sovereign, and my coun*
try, as well as my station ; permit me now, by my respect
and submission, to acquit the debt I owe to a parent. Juv
tice is blind-— it Is the power of God on earth->it hos no re-
gard to father or son — God and our neighbour's rights oie
above the ties of nature — you had offended against tho lawn
of justice, you deserved this punishment — you would, in
the end, have received it from another. I am sorry it
was your fate to have received it from me. My conscience
would not suffer me act otherwise ; behave better for the
future, and instead of blaming, pity my being reduced to so
cruel a necessity.'* This done, lie mounted his horse again,
and then continued his journey, amidst tho acclamations
and praise of the whole city for so extraordinary a piece of
justice ; report of which being made to the Sultan, he ad-
vanced him to the post of cadi, from whence by degrees, he
rose to the dignity of mufti, who is the head of both religion
and law among the Turks.

Cbambcn* JwrMl.

/ ON THE GRGAKS OF II EARING.

You all know what is meant by the term ** hearing ;"
and vou know that hearing is the property of the ear ; and
if asked what you hear, you probably answer, soundH; and
in the ordinary way of talking you answer correctly enough.
But the truth is, my young friends, you do not hear sounds.
Sound is the sensation produced on certain nerves of the
internal labyrinth of the ear, by the simple vibrations of the
air. This may appear strange to you, but it is ascertained
by various experiments : for example, — if a bell be struck
by a hammer, or its clapper, in the air, we are instantly
aware of the circumstance by the tone or sound produced,
or in other words, by the action of the air upon the nerves
of hearing ; but, on the contrary, let the bell be struck in a
space deprived of air, as for example, in the exhausted re-
ceiver of an air-pump, and no sound follows the blow ; and
why ? there is no air to receive or transmit vibrations from
the metal ; the hammer strikes, and all is 'iiient. The ear

233

IiriTBVflTIVl RBAIHIlk

then it strictly an oi^an formed for feeling and diicerning
the vibrations or motions of the air^ and this we call hear-
ing. Th,e loss of this sense, like Ihiat of si^t, is produced
by various causes, which derange the structore, or paralyze
the nerves of this curious and delicate instrument.

The ear, when its various parts are examined and under-
stood, discover great evidences of design and wisdom. It
may be said to consist of two portions, external and inter-
nal. The external ear varies in shape and power of mo-
tion in diflferent creatures. The use of this part, seems to
be that of collecting and concentrating the currents of the
air proceeding from certain points ; hence the horse, in
whom the power of motion is great, turns the ear to the
side from which the noise proceeds, and so do the deer and
other timid animals that are often dependent upon their agi-
lity and quickness of hearing for safety. Some animals
have no external ear at all — in birds the opening is protect-
ed by feathers. The internal parts of the ear constitute the
essential organ* They consist, in quadrupeds, of cavities
hollowed out in the hardest bone in the animal, containing
a fluid, through which are dispersed the minute filaments
of the hearing nerve. This nerve penetrates into these hol-
lows, colleOtiveiy termed the labyrinth, by traversing an
innumerable multitude of perforations, which sejrve as
channels to the many small threads into which it divides.
This nerve, after spreading thus through the labyrinth, be-
comes soft and pulpy, instead of being in the form ofa firm
cord, as the other portions of this, and most other nerves
become. From the external opening of the ear a tube pro-
ceeds inwards, in a curved direction, and is terminated by
n ring, into which is fixed a membrane, stretched over a
hollow, as parchment is stretched over the head ofa drum.
In this hollow four little bones are placed, respectively call-
ed the mallet, the anvH, the spherical bone, and the stir-
rup. Immediately below the head of the mallet, are in-
serted two very small muscles, — one for relaxing, the other
for tightening the membrane just mentioned. The chief
use of this bone is to act as a lever in moving the two mus-
clesy and thus modify the impulses of air which strike upon

UfiTIlUOTiyx RIADIK.

23d

eming
hear-
>duced
iralya©*'

undcr-
m. It

d inler^

of mo--'

sems to
of the

orsO) in

• to the

leer and

heir agi-

animala

protect-

litutelhe
cavitiea

»nlalning
ilaments
lese hol-
ireing *»
lejpve as
divides,
finth, be-
ofafirm
ff nervca
[tube pro-
nated by
Id over a
kfadrum.
|vely call-
the stir-
^, are in-
the other
'he chief
Itwo mus-
ike upon

the membrane. The anvil has a hollow in its bpdy,which
receives the head of the aiallet, and its chief use seems to
be as a conductor of ?oimd. The thirds or spherical bone,
is the smaHest of all ; if, serves as the link of communication
with the last bone, the stirrup. This singular bone, so
named from its shape, is united by its point to the spherical
bone, and its foot fills up the open entrance Into the laby-
rinth. It is also the most essential of these little bones, as
it has been remarked that, while it remains, though the
other bones have been destroyed, the hearing is not entirely
lost. Again, from the lower part of the tympanumy or place
covered with the membrane, a tube commences, at first
bony, and then cartilaginous, and terminates in the back of
the mouth at the side of the soft palate. By this tube the
air is admitted into the cavity, and hence persons who are
dull of hearing, are observed to listen with open mouths, so
that the little bones may be acted upon as freely as possible
by the uninterrupted impulses of the air, and this they do
habitually and unconsciously. This is a general descrip'
tion of this curious organ. There are various other things
very worthy of notice and admiration, but too intricate for
you yet to understand. Indeed of the uses of the various
curious parts of its machinery, we have still but an imper-
fect knowledge. But enough is known to bring all to the
conviction, that it displays the skill of its maker. Hence we
may conclude with the sacred poet — He that planted the
ear, shall He not hear ! — Psalm, xciv. 9.

Compiled*

PERSEVERANCC*

One of the most extraordinary, and the best attested in-
stances of enthusiasm, existing in conjunction with perise-

verance, is related of the founder of the F family. —

This man, who was a fiddler, living n^ar Stourbridge, £ng«
land, was often witness of the immense labour and loss of
time necessary in the process of making nails. The discov-
ery of the process called splitting, in works called splitting
mills, was first made in Sweden ; and thw consequences of
this advance in it were most disastrous to the manufactur-

UriTltUGTIVB RIAOIBf

en of iron about Slourbndge. F — the fiddler, "was shortly
m^'^aed from his accustomed rounds« and was not again seen
for niany years. He had mentally resolved to ascertain by
w'-hcV means the process of splitting bars of iron was accom-
plished; and without couimunicating his intention to a
single human being, he proceeded to Hull, and without
funds, worked his passage to the Swedish port. Arrived in
Sweden, he begged and fiddled his way to the iron foundries,
where he, after a time, became a universal favourite with
the workmen ; and from the apparent entire absence of in*
telligence, or any thing like ultimate object, he was receiv-
ed into the works, to every part of which he had access.—
He took the advantage thus offered, and having stored his
memory with observation, and all tH combinations, he dis-
appeared from amongst his kind friends as he bad appeared,
no one knew whence or whither* On his return to Eng-
land he communicated his voyage and its results to Mr.
Knight and another person in the neighbourhood, with
avhoni he was associated, and by whom the necessary build-
angs were erected, and machinery provided. When ?t
length every thing war prepared, it was found that the ma-
chinery would not act, at all events, it did not answer the
sole end of its erection — it would not split the bar of iron.

F disappeared again ; it was concluded shame and

mortification at his failure had driven him away for ever.
Not so ; again, though somewhat more speedily, he found
his way to the Swedish iron works, where he was received
most joyfully, and, to make sure of their fiddler, he was
lodged in the splitting-mill itself. Here was the very end
and aim of his life attained, beyond his utmost hope. He
examined the works, and very soon discovered the cause of
his failure. He now made drawings , or rude tracings ; and
having remained an ample time to verify his observations,
and to impress them clearly and vividly ol his mind, he
made his way to the port, and once more returned to
England. This time he was completely successful apd by
the results of his experience enriched himself and greatly
benefited his country n!«n. . chMbtn* 9o*n^\.

•4*

iNSTRUcnrnri riadsr.

Sd5

shortly
Lin seen
-tain by
accom-
n to a
without
rived in
jndries,
ite witli
ze of in-
I receiv-
ccees. —
ored his
9, he dis-
appeared,
I to Eng-
ts to Mr.
od, with
iry build-
IVhen rl
t the ma-
nswer the
ir of iron,
tame and
for ever,
he found
I received
r, he was
very end
ope. He
e cause of
ings; and
servations,
mind, he
;lurned to

uu «pd ^y

nd greatly

ab«n' Jo«rttf\<

>. ' W^NTS OF MANKIND*

Man, of all God's creatures is at once the most necessi-
tous, and the most amply supplied. Compare a new-born
infant with the young of any of the brute creation ; and
how infinitely more helpless does the former appear than
the latter ! Naked, weak, without perception, shrinking from
the blast, and gasping for nourishment, a newly-born infant
is the very image of destitution and imbecility.

The young of the brute creation speedily perfect their
bodily faculties and the instincts necessary to their comfort
and preservation ; but the imbecile infancy of mankind, is
a long period. During the first two years of a child's exis-
tence, he may be said to be utteriy helpless ; from that
period he does, indeed, obtain the mastery of his bodily
powers ; but even then his mind is but a germ — a^ thing
who is to be strong and luxuriant, but which will require «
long and careful cultivation to render it so.

Between ihi helpless infant and the talented and accom-
plished man, there is scarcely a greater difference than there
is between savage and civilized man. The former may be
considered in the light of an infant, which is by long and
slow degrees to arrive at the comparative perfection of power
and wisdom of the latter. "^-

The beasts of the field have their caves and holes in
which to find shelter, they have natural clothing suitable to
the situation in which they exist, and their natural instincts
are amply sufficient to the supply of all their natural wants.
Lehold how much less is done for man ! How many arts
must he invent and improve upon ; how much must he en-
dure of privation disappointment and fatigue ; how many
disadvantages in short, must lie overcome before he can
reach even the lowest degree of the comfort and enjoyment
of civil ization ? How much better then are animals situated
than men ? So, indeed we might exclaim, if we took but
one, and that, but a very imperfect view of the question.
But we should constantly remember, that man has two
very important blessings of which the brute creation, for
nrise purposes, is led destitute^^/^eMon and Speech, In thd

236

IKSTIlUOTITt RCADXR.

pouession of reason, the greak^t of ail! the l>enevolent gifts
of God, man has ample ret?our<;e4 for the strpply of all his
wants. The animals cannot en<".ve?fi! t!m e ipeiience or
sagncity of ihek kind. The various anim&ls %>( to-day have
as iiiiuch inBtiiict, as the aniraals of the earliest creation,
but have no mcve. But man is not only gifted with reason,
which he can improve, but is gifted alfrn w. h speech, by
means of which the iadividuals of each generation can im"*
prove each other, and hard dov^fn -hek improvements to
the l&test posterity. It h thus, >hat Uian is continually pro-
gre i!sing nearer to perfection. It is thus, that each age has
the wisdom and the toil of all preceding ages, as the
ground- work upon which to exert its own study and its
own industry.

Those of mankind, who are placed beyond the reach of
all wants, are consequently not only deprived of the best
stimulus to useful and agreeable exertion, and of all that
tends to purify the heart and soothe the feelings, but are the
most discontented and unhappy, and spend most of their
hours in misery. The day is too long for them, foC they
have no business; the n<ght is too tedious to them, for they
have not tasted that wholesome and moderate fatigue, which
would render sleep beneficial to them. Thus their days
are spent in bitterness, and their nights in wakeful discon-
tent ; and when the last day of life at length arrives, they,
for the first time, learn the value of being able to live ; and
expire in an agony of regret for the days they have wasted,
and desire for days which they are not ordained to behold.

These brief remarks it is hoped, will suffice to impress
upon the minds of the young the important truth, ihat every
thing ordained by our Creator, is ordained for the best. The
longer they live, and the more they read, reflect and observe,
the more strongly and convincingly will this truth impress
itself upon them. It i& a truth, which every thing by which
we are surrounded is able to declare to us ; if we will but
observe what surrounds us, and receive truth when it is
presented.

I1IITB|;«TI?B IIADB**

olent giAs
•f all bis
tiience or
-day have
t creation,
lib reason,
ipeecb, by
)n can im^
ements to
lually pro-
ch age baa
res, as the
dy and its

e reach of
of the beat
of all that
but are the
ost of their
n, fof they
m, for they
igue, which

their days
3ful discon-
rivea, they,
} live ; and
ave wasted,
1 to behold,
to impress
, that every
)best. The
ind observe,
uth impress
ig by which
we will but

when it is

A f CBNI OF HOBKOR III THB PTBAMn>S> Of BOBFT.

SoRM French travellera attempted to explore the vauHe
of the Egyptian Pyramids, and had already travelled an
extensive iabyrinth of chambers and passages; they were on
their return, and had arrived at the most difficult part of it —
a very long and winding passage, forming a communication
between two chambers, its opening narrow and low. The
ruggedness of the floor, sides, and roof, rendered their pro-
gress slow and laborious, and these difficulties encreased
rapidly as thisy advanced. The torch with which they had
entered became useless, from the impossib lily of holding it
upright, aa the passago diminished in height. Both its
height and width at length, however, became so much con-
tracted, that the party were compelled to crawl en their
bellies. Their wanderings in these interminable passages
(for such in their fatigue of body and mind they deemed
them^ seemed to be endless. Their alarm was very great,
and their patience already exhausted, when the headmost
of the party cried out, that he could discern the light at the
exit of the passage, and at a considerable distance ahead,
but that he could advance no farther, and that, in his efforts
to press on, in hopes to surmount the obstacle without com-
pluning, he had squeezed himself so far into the reduced
opening, that he had now no longer strength even to recede !
The situation of the whole party may be imagined : their
terror was beyond the power of direction or advice, while
the wretched leader, whither from terror, or from the natu-
ral effect of his situation, swelled so that, if ii was before
difficult, it was now impossible for him to stir from the spot
he thus miserably occupied. One of the party at this dreads
ful and critical moment, proposed, in the intense selfishness
to which the feeling of vital danger reduces all, as the only
means of escape from this horrible confinement — this living
grave— to cut in pieces the wretched being who formed the
obstruction, and clear it by dragging the dismembered car-
cass piece*meal past them ! He heard this dreadful propo-
sal, and contracting himself in agony at the idea of this
d^athi was reduced by a strong mnseular spasin to his usual

938

iNlTAOCTlTi ftXADIK.

dimensioni, and wii dragged out, affording room for the

? arty to squeeze themaelvea by, over his prostrate body.,
'his unhappy creature was suffocated in the effort, and
%vas left behind a eorpse.

lMft.>

-^..

METHOD OF TAKING AMD TAMING ELEPHAMTI,

The manner of taking and taming animats of so prodigi-
ous a strength, as seems to set all human power at defiance,
deserves Svome notice. In order to take them wild in the
woods, a spot of ground is fixed upon, which is surrounded
with a palisade, made of the thickest and strongest trees,
joined by cross-bars, which tend to encrease their strength.
These posts are fixed at such a distance from each other
that a man can easily pass between them ; and there is only
one great passage left open, through which the Elephant
can easiiy come, which is contrived upon such principles
as to close upon him the moment he has passed. To de-
coy the animal into this snare, it is necesfary to conduct a
tame female into the woods, which its keeper compels to
set up a cry that instantly attracts the attention of one of
her male friends, and induces him to follow the alluring
sound, until he finds himself outrapped beyond retreat. The
deceiving object of his solicitude still continues to lament
and cry, and he pursues her into a confined passage, that it
ia impossible .for him either to proceed or return ; but when
he perceives her let out at a private door he begins to show
violent marks of inr^^'gnation at the deceit. The hunters, in
the mean time, fix cords around his body, and endeavour to
soften his anger by throwing buckets of water upon his
back, pouring oil down his ears, and fubbing his body with
fragrant leaves ; two tame animals are then introduced. to
him, each of which alternately caress him with their trunks
— afterwards a third is brought forward that has been taught
to instruct the new comer, upon which an officer of some
distinction riJcs. The hunters then open the inclosure, and
the tractable creature leads his captive along until they ar-
rive at a massy pillar, to which, for about twenty-four
hours, it is tied. During that peridd its indignation begina

lUfTRUOTlVl ftXADBK.

239

n for the
ate body.,
ffort, and

tMIf.

LHTf.

BO prodigi-
t defiance,
,rild in the
lurrounded
geat trecB)
ir strength,
each other
tere ia only
\ Elephant
1 principlea
i. To de-
9 conduct a
ccmpela to
i of one of
the alluring
itreat. The
to lament
lage, that it
; but when
ins to ahovr
hunters, in
deavour to
r upon hia
la body with
Itroduced.to
their trunka
been taught
er of aome
|clo8ure,and
itil they ar-
|twenty-four
tion begint

to subside, and in the course of a fortnight it becomes com-
pletely tamed, acquirea an attachment for the person who
attends it, and thon jghly comprehends the different sounds
of his voice*

SEBASTIAN CABOT.

Sebaatlan Cabot waa a celebrated navigator. He was the
son of John Cabot, a Venetian, but waa born in the city of
Bristol, England. Before he waa twenty years of age, he
made several voyages with his father, who, in the year
1495, obtained from Henry VII. a commission for himself
and his three sons, part of which ran thus : '" To navigate
all parte of the ocean, for the purpose of discovering islands),
countries, regions, or provinces, either of gentiles or infidels,
which have hitherto been unknown to all christian people ;
with power to set up his standard and take possession of
the same, as vassals of the crown of England." A tolera-
ble apecimen of the arbitrary spirit of the times ! John
Cabot sailed from England in 1497, accompanied by hia
three sons. On the 24th of June, in the same year, he dis-
covered a large island, to which he gave the name of Prima
Vista, or the first seen, now called Newfoundland. A few
daya after, he discovered a smaller island, to which he gave
the name of St. John's ; and continuing his course westerly
he soon fell in with the continent now called America, and
sailed along the coast of Labrador, as far aa latitude 67 ^
30' north. Being, however, disappointed in his search for
a north-west passage, he sailed along the whole coaat to-
wards the south, as far as Florida, and his was the honour
of making the first and most extended discoveries of the
main land of the New World. Columbus, to whom the
honour is assigned, did not begin the voyage till a year aAer
Cabot ; and it was not till 1499 that Amerigo Vespucci, a
Florentine, sailed with a squadron for the New World, and
by publishing first the description of the new countries, car-
ried oft all the honours which more properly belonged to the
others, and especially to the first, in which his sons also bad
a share.
Sebastian Cabot excelled in navigation, mathematics and

llimUCTIYS RIADIII.

ooMBOgniphy, and io succeeding voyagei made a lettlefnent
on the coast of Newfouadland ; he was also the first Euro-
pean who touched the new continent, and therefore, on
that ground, decidedly established for himself a greater claim
to give it his name than those who have since borne it*

During the reign of Henry VIII. Sebastian tried to pene-
trate to the East Indies by the south, but not being supported
in his object, he penetrated only as far as the Brazils, and
vidited Hispaniola and Porto Rico. In 1542 he engaged in the
service of the Spaniards, the merchants of Spain having en-
trusted him with an expedition to the Moluccas or Spice Is-
lands, through the newly discovered Straits of Magellan. —
During this voyage at the Bay of All Saints, he was guilty of
an action which has left a dark blot on his memory, for after
being liberally supplied with necessaries by the hospitable
inhabitants, he seized, and carried ofif four young men, sons
of the principal people in that place. To this act of cruelty
he soon after added another; for, proceeding towards the
River Plata, he landed on a desert island Martin Mendez,
his Admiral, Captain Francis da Rojas, and Michael de
Rojas, where he left them, because they bad censured his
conduct. The golden dreams of Cabot were wholly disap.
pointed in this expedition, and, in consequence, he returned
to Spain, in 1531. Leaving Spain, he once more returned
to England, and settled at Bristol. Hence Edward VI. took
notice of him, delighted in his conversation, and allowed
him a pension, and the protector Somerset also took him
into favour. He was the oracle of the government on com-
mercial matters, and was rewarded with the office of Gov-
ernor of the Company of Merchant Adventurers. By this
means a voyage was made to the north in 1552, and a trade
commenced with Russia, which gave rise to the Russian
company. No navigator ever deserved better of England
than Sebastian Cabot. Skill, enterprise, and a general en-
thusiasm for profe sional distinction, were never more hap-
pily blended in the character of any mariner.

He was the first who noticed the variation of the mag-
netic needle. He published a map of the world, and an
account of his voyages in the southern parts of the world.

I2lt«ft«mfi ftftAtftB.

2il

lettleinent
first Euro-
treforO) on
eater claim
rne it*
Bd to pene-
l supporteU
brazils, and
{Bged in the
having en-
or Spice Is-
^agellan. —
vaa guilty of
ory, for after
e hospitable
ig men, sons
,ct of cruelty
towards the
[in Mcndez,
Michael de
sensured his
i^hoUy disap-
, he returned
lore returned
ard VI. took
and allowed
[so took him
jent on com-
iffice of Gov-
rs. By this
, and a trade
the Russian
of England
a general en-
|er more hap-

of the mag-
/orld, and an
I of the world.

t^^ ud iceordiikt to oihMt, li« «tliiiied iht i|»Sr l^tj^bty.

Amdng the daftgerl and feev^)^ incdnveniefaciet td ^hich
ibe traveller in Arabia ik e^tpesed, none is^ pefflipi, more
te be dreaded than the iiltloom or hurricane, of ivbibh fhe
followitog aceount is gtveh by ii modern traveller: —

The fi(\h day, aAef pacing the night under the tents of
El Henadi) we rose with the tun, and went on! to saddle
our dromedaries, biit found them, to our great amateHient,
with their heads plunged deeply into the tend, frbta wfili^hce
it was impossible tb d\atnp^ them. Calling to btlr aid the
Bedouins, they informed u^ that the circumstance |n^iaged
thb simoom, which Vrould liot long delay its det^iiitatTiig
eourse, and that we eould not proceed without fhciilg cer-
tain death. Providence has endowed the caniiel with an
iniitinbtive presehtimeht for itk fiir^servatioii. It H iensible
two or three hours beforehand of the apjjiiroadh of thf^ terri-
fic scoufge of the desert, and ttiriiing i^ face away flrbm the
wind, buries itself in the sand ; and neither force nor want
can move it from its positiori, either to, eat or drink, while
the tempest lasts, though it should be for several dau.

Leeming the danger which thf-eatehed iis, we sblred the
general terror, aftd hasiehed to a 'opt all the precatltkm's en-
joined OA US. Horses mitst not orfiy be placed bn'd^r shel-
ter, but hftV^ th^ir heads coveted md their ea^a stopped ;
tbdy wouM dtherwise be suflbcated by the whtrfwinds of
fine and subtle aabd which the wind sweeps fulrioti^y be-
fore it. Hthn aseenlible tinder their tents, storing # every
erevlee with extt^nie dauftOn ; and having prbVidi^ them-
selves with WSfter placed v^Hhin their reacb, fhrbiNr 0iem-
seiv^i on the ground, eoveitng their headiH iVifh a toantle,
ahd stir lib mbUe till thb desolating hurricane has parsed.

That Abrnrng all was tiiiliMutt iti the cai^p; every oJHi
eiideatr66ri)ig (b prdvidfe fl9r the slifeiy of his b^tfeb, Md
precipMily retirlyi^ tfK^the pit)te<ition of hiis t^nt. We
had antlttelf tiiHb mnwm 0^ b^auliftil Nedge iminbs be*

llflTRVOTIVI BIAftBI.

fora Um iitdrm begtn. Fariow goili of wind wert lucMed*
ed hf oloudi orrad and burning Modf, whirling round with
fiaron impetuoaityi and overthrowing or burying under their
drifted mountalna whatever Ibejr eneountered. If any part
of the bodr ia by accident expoied to ita touch, the fieih
awella aa if a hot iron had been pained over it. The water
intended to refresh ui with its coolneis was quite hot| and
the temperature of the tent exceeded that ofaTurltiah bath.
The tempest lasted ten hours in the greatest fury, and then
gradually sunk for the following six ; another hour and we
must all have been suflbcated. When at length we ventur-
ed to iaaue from our (entsi a dreadful eight awaited us $ five
children* two women, and a man, were extended dead on
the still burning sand ; and several Bedouins had their faces
blackened and entirely calcined, aa if by the action of an
ardent furnace. When any one ia atruck on the head by
the simoom, the blood flows in torrents from his mouth and
nostrils, his face swells and turns black, and he soon dies of
suffocation. We thanked the Lord that we had not our-
selves been surprised by this terrible scourge in the midst of
the desert, but had been preserved from so frightful a death.

▲.DtLaaMllaib

THE HUMAN f AOI.

A gftat poet speaks of ** the human face divine,'* and
the expression, we think, is exceedingly graphical and hap-

f»y. The face of man is of itself aufficient to announce him
ord of the creation. There area beauty and a dignity in the
countenance of man, and more especially in that of virtu-
ous man, which are given to no other created being. This
is true, even of the face of a sleeping human being, or of
one newly dead. But the human face owes its greatest
beauty to its striking and various powers of expres-
sion. Every feeling of the heart, eveiy conception of the
intC'^ect has its appropriate expression in the human fea-
tures. The eye and* the mouth more especially have a
wonderfully varied power of expression. From the most
sweeping and terrible, to the moat gentle and amiable emo-
tions, those featucM can express every shade and every de-
gree of feeling.

WtniVCTlTI ABA1>BII<

S49

aceacd*
ndwith
ler their
my part

It water
bot, and
ith bath,
and then ,
r and we
e ventur-
lut; five
dead on
iheirfaoea
lion of an
e head by
Biouth and
oon dies of
d not our-
16 midst of
111 a death.

vine," and
tX and hap-
lounce him
gnityinthe
at of virtu-
ling. This
jeingi or of
its greatest
of expres-
ttion of the
niuman fea-
atty have a
^01 the most

niable emo-
id every de-

The tyt is peeulitrly MMetptlUe of striking espreieiens,
and the most crafty and self-possessed csn scarcely, if a I
all, disguife their feelings from him who knows how to in-
terpret the expression of their eyes. It wss on this account
that one of the ancients gave the singularlv apt name to the
eyes, of being « the windows of the soul.'' It is not, how-
ever, merely ss to their oower of expression that the parts
of the human face are deserving of admiration. There is
an inimitable fitness in every one of them for the purpoie
for which it is deuigned. What human power and ingenu-
ity, for instance, could have devised so complete a protec-
tion for that delicate and important organ, the eye, as is
afforded by the eye-lsshes t

In considering the human features, we must make a re-
murk upon the singular inconsistency with which mankind
value themselves upon beauty of features, sod yet pursue
such courses as cannot fail to deface or destroy that beauty.
Nothing is more common than to observe that the very
same persons who value themselves upon beauty of features
give themselves up to the indulgence of pride and sullenners
and envy and malice; feelings which render the most per-
fect beauty hateful on tho instont, and ultimately s^*eep
away every trace of it. If we would have pleasing features
we must indulge only in amiable feelings. The most
homely countenance has a portion of dignity, and virtue
and kindly feelings can incredibly increase that portion ;
while a single bad feeling or vicious passion will throw an
almost demoniac air over the most lovely conformation of
features.

To pride ourselves upon mere beauty of features is, of all
kinds of vanity, the most contemptible and ill-founded ; for
in the production of that beauty we had no share. But in
the indulgence of virtues and amisble (eelings we can^^ exer-
cise a power. And» therefore, the features which beam
with justice, benevolence, and good humour, are really
erediteble to him who pofMCsses them, and a just gfOond of
self-respect and self^gratolation. This is the truest and
roost estimable beauty of features ; a reflection and an evi-^
denee of iniemai beauty ; beauty of heart*

12U

iNf T4VCifiY« ^^A^M^'

I^ety thea) none o^ oui; xo^lU| r^idei^ ey^n. pnff theoiiel ves
up with ^b'at vain pride ^Jljiiicli pergonal li>!9auty eiciteain
ignorant nf^iQd^. 9ut let thei^ diligently and constantly
strive t<^ ie good} in order that they may also seen, so. For
they majrire^t assured, that they can never look gopd unlesi
they ar« good, and that they can i\Qyer look beauhfulvioiet*
they Ipol^ good.

ADVENTURl WCTii J^ SERP^T*

Thp following account of an adventure with a cobra da
capepoj or hooded-snaHe which occurred to a gentleman
who was reposing under a tamarind tree alone, after a day's
shooting, will be read with interest. *< I was roused by the
furious baying of my dogs ; on turning round, I beheld a
snake of tl]ie cobra di capello species, directing its course to
a point tliat would bring it very close upon my position. In
an instant I was upon my feet. The moment the reptile
became ^ware of my presence.* in nautical phraseology, it
boldly brought too,with expanded hood, eyes sparkling, neck
1)eautifuny arched, the head raised nearly two feet from the
ground, and oscillating from side to side, in a manner plainly
indicative of a resentful foe. t seized a short bamboo, left
by one of the bearers, and hurled it at my opponent's head.
I was fortunate enough to hit it beneath the eye* The rep-
tile immediately fell from its imposing attitude, and lay
apparently lifeless. Without a moment's reflection, I seized
it a little below the head, hauled it beneath the shelter of
the tree, and very coolly sat down to examine the mouth
for the poisoned fangs of which naturalists speak so much.
While i^ the act of forcing the mouth open with a stalk, I
felt the head sliding through my hand; and to my Dtjter
astonishment became aware that I now had to contend
again^ the most deadly of reptiles in its full strength and
vifpuir. tndeed I wa^ in a momept convii^ced of it ; for as
I tij^iiened my hold of the throat, iUi body became wn^aMied
ronf^d my neckand ar^ipf I h^d rjsjsed mypeif ffofq a ^tting,
posbNlJl^ ono knee ; my rigf^t arini* tp.^^aj^la.me, to e^tliei^:
iny itrehgthi waseJUifiad^ \ ts^v^ i^, ^^9hM tjUtmlf,

tki^BVOTIVB RSAD£R.

S45

QDielves

•natantly
10. For
vdunledt
wZuoleM

^ cobra da
jentlemaa
er a day'a
ied by the
beheld a
\ course to
itlion. In
Lhe reptile
Lseology, it
aing, neck
jt from the
ner plainly
imboo, left
ent's head.
Therep-
), and lay
>n, I seized
I shelter of
the mouth
: so much,
a stalk) I
. roy Utter
to contend
itrengthand
3ffit; for as
uQ wr^at^
-om a flitting,
ije to e?tiB|;l-

%aV8 ippHfiiM Borrined enough to represent a deity in the
Hioi^oo mythology, such as we so often see rudely sketched
'bn the portals of their native temples. It now bepame a
'fatter of self-defence. To retain my hold it required my
'utim'ost strength to prevent the head from escaping, as mjr
neck became a purchase for the animal to pull upon. If
the reader is aware of the universal dread in which the
cobra de capello is held throughout India, and the almost
instant death which invariably follows its bite, he will, in
some degree, be able to imagine my feelings at that moment ;
a shudder^ a faint kind of disgusting sickness pervaded my
whole frame, as I felt the cold, clammy fold of the reptile's
body tightening round my neck. To attempt any delineation
of my sensations, would be absurd and futile; let it suffice,
they w^re most horrible. I had now almost resolved to re-
sign my hold. Had I done so, this account would ri^ver
have been written ; as no doubt the head would have been
brought to the extreme circomvolution to inflict its deadly
wound. Even in the agony of such a moment, I. could
picture to myself the fierce glowing of the eyes, and the in-
timidating expansion of the hood ere it fastened its venom-
oub and fatal fangs upon my face or neck. To hold it much
longer would be impossible. Immediately beneath my
grasp, there was an inward working and creeping of the
skin, which seemed to be assisted by the very firmness with
which I held it; my hand was gloved. Finding in defi-
ance of all my efforts, that my hand was each instant (breed
closer to my face, I was anxiously considering how to act
in this horrible dilemma, when an idea struck me that, was
it in my power to transfix the mouth with some sharpi instru-
ment, it would prevent the reptile from using Ob fangF,
should it escape my hold of it. My gun lay at my feet, the
ranirod appeared the very thing required, which, with some
difficulty, I succeeded in drawing out, having only ojne hand
disengaged. My right arm was now trembling from over-
exertion, my hold becoming less fifm, when I happily suc-
ceeded in passing the rod through the lower jaw up to its
centre. It was not without con^d^rable Hesitation that I
iUdidenly let go'royhold of thu throat and seized tbe rod in

S4«

INSTRUOTXVI BIADBB.

both hands ; at the same time bringing them over mj hea4
with a sadden jerk, disengaged the fold from my neck,
which had latterly become almost tight enough to produce
strangulation. There was then little difficulty In freeing
my right arm, and ultimately throwing the reptile from mo
to the earth, where it continued to twist and writhe itself
into a thousand contortions of rage and agony. To run to
a neighbouring stream to lave my neck, hands and face, in
its cooling waters, was my first act after despatching my
formidable enemy." ^.„, ,«.^^

»A8HI0NABL^ DINNER PaRTT IN ABYSSINIA.

When Bruce, the celebrated traveller, first gave an ac-
novtni of the Abyssinians eating the raw flesh of a live ani-
mal, it was almost universally regarded as either a mistake
or a wilful misrepresentation. His testimony has, however,
been since amply corroborated by other travellers. The
mode of supplying brindci or raw meat to the guests in the
fashionr.ble parties at Gondar, the capital, has not besn very
generally understood. When the company have taken their
seats at table, a cow cr bull is brought to the door, whoi-*^.;
feet are strongly tied ; after which the cooks proceed to se-
lect the most delicate morsels. Before ktlling the animali
all the flesh on the buttocks Is cut off in solid tiiquare pieces,
without bones or much effusion of blood. Two or ihme
servants are then employed, who, as fast a« they can pro-
cure brindcy lay it upon cakes of (efl* placed Vxkm dish ^s down
the table, without cloth or any thrnf else ber«#»th them. —
By this time all the guests hate knives in t^ieir hanrk, an^
the men prefer the large crooked oo««, which in the time of
war they put to all sorts of urcs. The company are m
ranged that one gentleman sits l>etween two laoiet ; aad the
former with his long knife begins by cutting a thin f4«r'«,
which would be thought a good steak in En(^anb, white the
motion of the fibres is yet perfectfy dKstinct. In Abyssinia
no man of any fashion feeds himself or touebes his own
meat. The women take the flesh snd cut it lengthwise like
strings, about the thickness of ont's little finger^ then croM-

ItfflTRVCtlVI RBADIR.

2iT

ny head
ly neck»
produce
i freeing
frooi me
the iiself
'o run to
I face, in
ching roy

e iMlraaL
lA.

ve an ac-
Bt live ani-
a mistake
, however,
lers. The
lests in the
L besn very
taken <heir
)or, wiioi?':i
ceed to se-
he animal,
are pieces,
or tb»ee
jy can pfo-
ish "• down
th them* —
handfl, an<l
the time of
.any are •»
ei ; and tV.e
thin pie^e,
i, wbik the
Afoysainia
_ his own
^thwiielike
then cron-

wiae into square pieces somewhat smaller than dice. This
they lay upon a portion of the teff bread, strongly powdered
with black pepper, or cayenne, and fossil salt, and then
wrap it up like a cartridge. In the meantime the gentleman
having put up his knife, with each hand resting upon his
neighbour's knee, his body stooping, his head low and fi
ward, and mouth open, very like an idiot, turrs to the oi .
whose cartridge is first ready, who Btufis the whole of it be-
tween his jaws at the imminent risk of choking him. This
is a mark of grandeur. The greater the man would seem
to be, the larger is the piece which he takes into his month ;
and the more noise he makes in chewing it, the more po-
lite does he prove himself. None but beggars and thieves,
say they, eat small pieces and in silence. Having dispatch-
ed this morsel, which he does very expeil.tiously, his neigh-
bour on the other hand holds forth a second pellet, which
he devours in the same way, and. ^^ <>n till he is satisfied.
He never drinks till he has finished eating ; and before he
begins, in gratitude to the fair ones who have fed him, he
makes up two small rolls of the same kind and form, each
of the ladies opens her mouth nt once, while with his own
hand he supplies a portion tc both at the same moment. —
Then commence the potations v/hich, we are assured, are
not regulated with much regard to sobriety or decorum. Ail
this time the unfortunate victim at the door is bleeding, but
bleeding little ; for so skilful are the butchers, that while
they strip the bones of the flesh, they avoid the parts which
are traversed by the great arteries. At Inst they fall upon
the thighs likewise ; and after the animal perishing from loss
of blood, becomes so tough, that the unfeeling wretches who
feed on the remainder, can scarcely separate the muscles
with their teeth. In the description now given, we have
purposely omitted some features which, it is not improbable,
have been a little too highly coloured, iC not even somewhat
inaccurately drawn. But there is ne reason to doubt the
general correctness of the above delineation. okMun' .jowba

248

INBTRtJCTkVl JiEABEA.

UPON siir-oonbucT, AS regulated by coititicT

PRmClPLES.

A knowledge of the Deity is an object of the first I.ii-
porlance with every sensible and reflecting mind. And of
the existence of the Creator and Governor of all thingti
we cannot possibly fail to be convinced if we suffer our-
selves to follow the testimony of our own eyes, thoughts^
and feelings. All Nature proclaims the divine truth. —
Next to the knowledge of God it is of supreme importance
to exert all our faculties to do what is *' acceptable and
well-pleasing unto Him." As Religion is the Mother of all
moral excellence, she is the source of all true honour and
happiness. Without a knowledge of God, or a devout at-
tachment to our universal Lord and benefactor, we can
only wander in error; and unless we cherish that knowledge
and attachment, and are acquainted with the consolations of
piety, and possess that tranquillity on whose basis true hap-
piness is founded, the essential design of our creation can-
not be fulfilled.

The Knowledge of Religion is the foundation of Wis-
dom ; Virtue cannot exist without its aid, nor can true
Happiness yield its inestimable produce, save in the fertile
soil of Wisdom and Virtue. The end of Religion is to
make us wiser and better, to improve, exalt, and perfect
our nature ; to teach us to love, imitate, and obey God; to
extend our love and charity to our fellow creatures, accord-
ing to our several stations and abilities ; to govern and mo-
derate our passions ; and to regulate all our appetites by
temperance.

We are lo constituted by nature, as necessarily to require
the assistance of each other, for our mutual support and
preservation. Society is absolutely requisite for us — the
bonds of which are love, charity and friendship. In this res-
pect we are all upon the same level, having niutu«Hy the same
wants, and the same need of assistance. Every owe, thei*-
fore, is bound by the ** Law of Mature''' to consider himself
but as a part or member of thr' r^aiversal body, wilioh is
composed of all mankind \ r ^ tt he was sent into the

Tiff TRU0TIY9 1|IAPJ».

S49

( I

yiMitcr

5 fiVst Ini-

. And of
r ail thingtri
suffer onr-
, thoughtB^
le truth. —
importance
^ptable and
lother of all
lonour and
devout at-
)r, we can
, knowledge
isolations of
is true hap-
eation can-

)n of Wis-
r can true
the fertile
igion is to
md perfect
ey God j to
■es, accord-
m and mo-
ppetites by

y to require
iipport and
for us — the

In this res-
tly the same

<>««, there-

def himself
y, wbitth is

nt into tb&

WQild foe \b^, pvirpoAB pf proiiM>ti9g the good and welfase of
1^ (<pllq^-Cfe^tures, by treating them with love, chaiHy,
a)^ Ipi^evolq^^. To this diUy the principles of common
i\Ufpanity oblige uf* Nothing indeed can be more agreeable
to a >}^^-tfn()pered disposition ; nothing can aflRord it a more
n^py il^^ept of re^ectloo* than a reciprocal interchange of
gopd Opp^; did we n^>, therefore, suffer covetoosB^ss,
s^fishqesf, discontent, and other evil passions, to ovec-rule
tW tendency, we should inv{^riab)y experience its happy
^ff^cts.

J^S; t^e practice of this duty is the most certain method of
adyanping the true interests and welfare of Stociett, so no
Qiani without acting contrary to the ' law of his being, the
reaqpab^^i9 mind, and the natural bent of his affections,
can ^IfuUy do injury to another. And if, upon any pri-
vate miwnden^tanding, or trifling provocation, which arises
amongst men, each party would endeavour to appease,
rathjcr than exasperate the other, how much more happiness
WOjij^ld be tl)!9 result.

, ON VALUK.

Qold and Silver are the most convenient metati to use as
money, because they take up but little room in proportion
to their value. Hence they are called the precious metals.
But wl^y sl^uld Gold and Silver be of so much more value
than Irpn ? For they are not nearly so useful. We should
be very ill off without knives, and scissors, and spades, and
hatdiiptji f iM)d those could not be made from anything at
fi^m iroa; und silver and gpld would make very bad tools
inde^

To iifid^ratand this, you must remember thnt it ia not the
QOflt iiftofultbingn that are of the most value. Nothing is
mo^ uppiill than air or water, without which we could not
liye^ Y^t thfupe are, in most places of no value, in the
p|ropfi;,aeQao of the word ; that is, no one will give anytUng
in axfih«pge for, them, becauae he can have them without.
Ifk aoinf^ pTi^cc^Sf indeed, water is scarce.; and then people
aregi^tQ tfliy it. You may read in Scripture of many qunr-
i«|| t^ JM^ptfial)Oiit. welU.of wiitME I bectuM .in sc^dm^ of the

850

UtSTRVOTITK mCADIR.

EMtera countries, water ii lo scarce that a well is a rerf
important possession. But water is not more unful in
those places where people are glad to buy it, than it is here,
where, by the bounty of Providence, it is plentiful. It is
the searciiy that gives it value, and where iron is scarce it
is of great value. Some Islands which our ships have visit-
ed produce no iron ; and the people there, are glad to get a
few nails in exchange for a hog. But, in most countries,
iron, which is the moat useful of all metals, is also, through
the goodness of Providence, the most plentiful. But still it
is of some value; because in must be dug from the mines,
smelted in furnacesr, and wrought into tools, before we can
make use of it. If knives and nails were produced by natu?o
ready made, and could be pulled up every where like peb-
bles, they would be of no value, because every one might
get them for nothing; but they would be just as useful as
they are now*

Scarcity alone, however, would not make a thing valu-
able, if there wero no reason why any one should desire
to possess it. There are some kinds of stones which are
scarce, but of no value, because they have neither use nor
beauty. Ycu would not give any thing in exchange for
such a stone ; not because yoa cannot easily get it) but be-
cause you have no wish for it.

But a stone which is scarce and very beautiful, may be
of great value, though it is of no use but to make an orna-
ment for the person. Such are diamonds, and rubies, and
many othern. Many people will work hard io earn money
enough to buy ^ not only food and necessary clothing, but
also lace and jewels, and other articles of finery. And they
desire these things the more, tecause, besides being beauti-
ful to the eye, they are reckoned a sign of wealth in the
person who wears them. A bunch of wild flowers will of-
ten be a prettier oroament than a fine ribband or a jewel ;
but a woman likes better to wear these laet, to shew that
she can aftird the cost of them, whereas the wild flowers
may be had for the picking. There is no barm in people's
desiring to be well dressed according to Uieir station in life,
bttt it is a pity that so many should be fond of •zpeasiv*

must

plea^

supt

whi(

the

Tl
than
one

INITRUCTITB RBiU>l«,

351

rell ii a ytrj
m uHful in
lan it is here,
ntiful. It it
1 18 tcaree it
» have visit-
glad to get a
>st countries,
ilso, through
But still it
n the mines,
efore we can
ed by ntAum
ere like peb-
J one migEit
> as useful as

I thing valu-
hould desire
|s which era
her use nor
xchange for
ttit, but be-
lli, may be
19 an oma-
rubies, and
earn money
othing, but
And they
sing beauti*
alth in the
ers will of-
or a jewel ;
» shew that

ild flowers
in people's
ion in life,

•zpeoiiv*

finery above their station, which often brings them to pov-
erty. And often they spend money on ornaments, which
would be better laid out in buying good useful clothes and
furniture, and in keeping them dean. A mixture of finery
with rags and dirt, is a most disgusting sight.

You understand now, I hope, that whatever is of value
must not only be desirable for its use, or beauty, or some
pleasure it affords, but also scarce ; that is, so limited in
supply that it is not to be had for nothing. And of all things
which are desirable, those are the most valuable which are
the most limited in supply, that is, the hardest to be got.^
This is the reason why silver and gold are of more value
than iron. If they had been of no use or beauty at all, no
one would ever have desired them ; but being desirable they
are of greater value than iron, because they are so much
scarcer, and harder to be got. They are found in but few
places, and in small quantities. Gold, in particular, is ob-
tained chiefly in the form of dust, by labourers washing of
the sand of certain streams. It costs only as much in la-
bour and other expenses to obtain fifteen pounds of silver as
to obtain one pound of gold ; and this is the cause that one
pound of gold will exchai;ge for about fifteen pounds of sil-
ver.

But besides being desirable and being scarce, there is one
point more required for a thing to have value ; or, in other
words, to be such, that sor>ething else may be exchanged
for it. It must be something that you can pari with to ano-
ther person. For instance, health Is very desirable, and is
what every one cannot obtain ; and hence we do some-
times speak of health as being of value ; but this is not the
strict use of the word value; for no one can give his health
to another in exchange for something else. Many a rich
man would be glad to give a thoosand pounds in exchange
for the healthy constitution and strong limbs of u poor la-
bourer ', and perhaps the labourer would be glad to make
such a bsfgain ; but though he might cut off his limbs he
could not make them another man's $ he may throw away
his health, as many do, by intemperance, but he cannot^
iTMufer it, that is, part with it to another p«r8on«

252

IfffifKUCTlVI MADlfi.

Oh th6M 6lc}mbntal7 ftbihtt the rdlloWing qodstlont ifaiy
be iMftfully pot to fix the tubject more in the mliid : —

1. Why if not Air sn article of value 1 BecaUM thottgh
it be Tery'u8ef\il| it is to be had for nothing.

2. Why is sorhe acarce kind of stone, that is of no tisb or
beauty, not an article of value t Because, though it be not
a thing that every one can get, no one denret to get it.

3. Why is a healthy Constitution not an article of ^lue t
•^Because, though it be very desirable, and is ndt T^hat
every one can get, it is not transferable — that it, cannot be
parted with by one person to another.

4. Why is a spade an article of value? — Because it is
desirable, as being of use ; secondly, limited in supplv, that
is, it is not what every one can have for nothing ; and thirdly^
tiinsfbrable, that is, one person can part with it to another.

5. Why is a silver spoon of more vAlue than a spade 1 —
Because, though it be not more useful, it is more limited in
supply, or ha^er to be got, on account of the difficulty of
working the mines of silver.

When ftny thing that is desirable is to be had by Iftbour,
and is not to be had Without labour, of course we find men
labouring to obtain it, and things that are of very srelatt
value will usually be found to have cost very great laEbtar.
This ha;s led sotoe persons to suppose that it li the labour
which has been bestowed upon a thing that gives it value ;
but this is quite a mistake. It is hot the labour which any
thing has cost that causes it to sell for a higher p^ice ; but
on the contrary, it is its selling for a higher pric6 that causes
men to labour in procuring it. For instance, fishermen go
out to sea, and toil hard in the wet and cold to catch fi^h,
because they can get a good price for them ; but' if a fisher-
man should work hard all night, and catch but one smalt fish
while another had, perhaps, caught a thousand, by falling
in with a shoal, the fitst would not be able to i^l his end
fish for the same price as the other man^ thousand, thoto^h
it would have cost him the same labour. It hsM ho#
and then happened that a salmon hds leaped intio a boat
by chance ; but thovfjgh Mb htks cost no labour, it is net

IS.

IIIITAVenVI RBAI^II.

353

I I

ifttldnt ifaix
dd :•—
loM though

ofnoitseor
gh it b6 hot
» g6t it;
le of ^tiie t
18 not i^^hat
it, cannot be

)ecau£ite it 19
supplv, that

and thirdly^
I to another.
, a apade 1 —
te limited in

difficulty of

for that roaaon the leaa valotble. And, if a niao, in
fiating an oytier, should ohanee to neet with a fine pearl,
it would not sell for less than if he had heen diving for it all
day. It is not, therefore, labour that makea all thingii valu-
able, but their being valuable that malcea them worth la-
bouring for. And God, having judged in his wisdom that
it is not good for man to be idle, has so appointed things by
his providence, that few of the things that are most deiiirable
can be obtained without labour. It is ordained for man to
eat bread in the sweat of his face ; and almost all the ne-
cessaries, comforts, and luxuries of life are obtained by
labourt

Vtiurtb Book of Ltiioif.

-f-

ON WAGES.

Some labourers are paid higher than others. A carpen-
ter earns tn^c thsn a ploughman, and a watchmaker more
than either ; and yet this is not from the one working hard-
er than the other. And it is the same with the labour of
the mind as with that of the body. A banker's clerk, who
has to work hard at keeping accounts, is not paid so high as
a lawyer or a physician. , You see from this, that the rate
of wages does not depend on the hardness of the labour, but
on the value of the work done.

But on what does the value of the work depend t The
value of each kind of work is like the value of anything
else ; it is greater or less according to the limitaHon of ih
supply ; that is the difficulty of procuring it. If there were
no more expense, time, and trouble in procuring a pound of
gold than a pound of copper, then gold would be of no
more value than copper.

But why should the supply of watchmakers and sureeons
be more limited thdn of carpenters and ploughmen t That
is, why k it more difficult to make a man a watchmaker
than a ploughman ? The chief reason is, that the education
required cost a great deal more. A long time must be spent
in learning the business of a watchmaker or a surgeon, be-
fore a man can acquire enough of skill to practise ; so that,
Unless you have enough to support you all this time, and
w

inwrAwnwrn biadm.

«lfO to pay yoor mailer for teaching you tha art, you can-
not beeoma a watchmaker or a aurgeon ; and no fkther
would go to tba ezpania of breeding up a son a surgeon or
watchmakeri even if he could afford it, if he did not expect
him ta earn more than a carpenter, whose education costs
much less* But sometimes a father is disappointed in his
expectation. If the son should turn out stupid or idle, he
would not acquire skill enough to maintain himself by his
business, and then the expense of his education would be
lost: for it is not the expensive education of a surgeon that
causes him to be paid more for setting a man's leg than a
carpenter is for setting the leg of a table, but the expensive
education causes fewer to become surgeons. It csuses the
supply of surgeons to be more limitedy that is, confined to
a tew ; and it is this limitation that is the cause of their be-
ing better paid. So that you see, the value of each kind of
labour is higher or lower, like that of all other things, ac-
cording as the supply is limited.

Some kinds of labour, again, are higher paid, from the
aupply of them being limited by other causes, and not by
the cost of learning them, or the natural genius they require.
Any occupation that is unhealthy, or dangerous, or disa-
greeable, is paid the higher on that account, because people
would not otherwise engage in it. There is this kind of
limitation in the supply of house-painters^ miners^ gunpow-
der-makers, and several others.

Some people fancy that it is unjust that one man should
not earn m much as another who works no harder than
himself. And there certainly would be a hardship, if one
man could force another to work^ for him at whatever wages
he chose to give. This is the case with those slaves who
are forced to work, and are only supplied by their masters
mik food and other necessaries, like horses. So also, it
woidd be a hardship if I were to force any one to sell me
any thing, whether his labour, his cloth or cattle, or wheat,
at any price I might choose to fix. But there is no hardship
in leaving all buyere and Sellers free ; the one to ask what-
ever price he may think fit ; the other, to offer what ha
thinks the article worth. A labourer is a seller of labour^
and both ought to be left free.

IMimUOTtrB KIJIBIA.

jou ean-
no (kther
urgeon or
lot expect
tion cosifl
ed in his
r idle, he
AC by his
would be
geon that
ig than a
expensive
wuses the
mfined to
f their be-
h kind of
^ings, ac-

from the
fid not by
y require.

or disa-
ise people
8 kind of

gunpow-

an should
rder than
ip, if one
ver wages
aves who
ir masters
3o also, it
y sell me
or wheat,
» hardship
ask what-
what he
of labour^

Labouren often suffer graat lierdshipi, from whi6h they
night five themselvei by looiiiDg forward beyond the pre-
sent day. They are apt to complain of others, when they
ought rather to blame their own imprudence. If, when a
man is earning good wages, he spends all as fast as he feta
it in thoughtless intemr ^nce, instead of laying by eome-
thing against hard <> mey afterwards have tosilfler

great want when i r work, or when wages are

lower ; but then he blame others for this, but his

own |improvidence. ou thought the bee in the following
fable : —

** A grass-hopper, half starved with cold and hunger at
the approach of winter, came to a well-stored bee hive, and
humbly begged the bees to relieve his wants with a few
drops of honey. One of the bees asked him how he had
spent bis lime all the summer, and why he had not laid up
a store of food like them / < Truly,' said he, < I spent my
time very merrily, in drinking, dancing, and singing, and
never once thought of winter.' * Our plan is very different,'
said the bee ; * we work hard in the summer to lay bv a
store of food against the season when we forsee we shall
want it, but those who do ncihing but drink, and dance, and
sing, in the summer, must expect to starve in the winter."

rourth Book ofLtnoat-AktidgcA.
HOW TO MAKE MONET.

Do you complain that you have nothing to begin with t
<^ Tom," you say, **has a farm, and Harry has one thousand
dollars, but I have nothing." I say to you, lodk at your
hands, and tell me what they are worth. Would you take
one thousand dollars for them, or for the use of them
throughout your lifet If you can make half a dollar a day
with them, it would not bie a bad bargain, for that sum is
the interest of more than two thousand dollars. 'Money and
land therefore, are not the only capital with which a young
nan ean begin the world. If he has good health, and n
industrioos, even the poorest boy in the eeuntry has some-
Iking to trade upon ; and if he U, besides, wcfU educftied.

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HlfTRVCTlVB RSA3IR.

and have skill in any kind of woik, and add lo this aooral
J^abiti and leligion, so that bis employers may trust him
and ptttee oonndence in biro, he may thus be -said to set out
in life with a handsome capital, and certainly he has as
good a ebance of becoming independent and respectablei
and perhaps rich^ as any man in the country. In one
sense, ^ every man is the master of his own fortune.** All
depends upon setting out upon the right principles and
among them are these :—

1. B$ induttriout—TitM and skill are your capital.

2. Be taping, — Whatever it be, live within your in-
come.

3. Be pntdent-^Bvij not what you can do without.

4. Be resolute^-^Lei your economy be always of to-day,
and not to-morrow.

5* Be^ponienied and ihankfiil*-'K cheerful spirit makes
labour light, and sleep sweat, and all around happy, all
which is much better than being ofi/y rich.

rooUi'f Frtaid.

OBSBRYATIONS ON TIMB.

When I was a young lad, my father one day called me
to him, that he might teach me to know what o'clock it
was. He told me the use of the minute-finger, and the
houf hand, and described to me the figures on the dial plate,
until I was pretty perfect in my part.

No sooner was I quite master of this additional know-
ledge than 1 set off scampering to join my companions, at a
game of ring-taw: but mv father called me back again ;-^
<< stop, Humphrey," said he, "I have taught you to know
the time of tne day, I must now||iach you to find out the
time of your life."

All this was Butch to me ; so I waited rather impatient-
ly to hear how my father would explain it, for I wanted
Midly to go to my marbles.

<' The Bible," said he, « describes the years of man to be
th i seice t e and ten or fouMCore years. Now life is very
unoBrlalii and yoa may not live a sing^ day longer i but If
wa Mk the foor^coea yean of an aid nmF% life into

mnAVonri bbabbs.

997

twdfttpariiylitotiMdialorilieeloekyitfrinaltow ainoif
Mven J9U9 for every figure* When e boj ie wven jeera
old, then it it one o*olock of hii life, end thie ie the caie
with yea ; when yoa arrive tt fourteen yei|% it will be two
o'elock with you ; and when at twenty-one yean, it will
be three o'clock, should it pleaae God thus to apare your
life. In this manner you may alwaya know the time of
your life, and looking at the clock, may perhapa remind you
of it. My great grandfather, according to thia caleiilatieiif
died at twelve o'clock ; my grandfather at eleven, nnil 1^
father at ten. At what hour you and I shall die, Hvikfrb-
rey, is only known to Him to whom all thingp are known.''

Never since then have I heard the inquiry, ** What
o'clock is itf" nor do I think that I have even looked at
the face of a clock, without being reminded of the worda of
my father.

I know not, my friends, what o'clock, it mav be with
you, but I know very well what time it is with myself;
and that if I mean to do anything in this worid which, hith-
erto I have neglected, it is nigh time to set about it. The
words of my father, have given a solemnity to the diat-plate
of a clock, which it never would have possessed in my esti-
mation, if these words had not been spoken. liook about
you, my friends, I earnestly entreat you, and now and then
aak yourselves, what o'clock is it with you. WMkir Tutor.

ntobe

I vwy

but If

feiilto

r:«*l

SECTIQV n.

tllVtlHlKKY SCI^ENCI.

Off SI ATTIR ANP TH Vm>PBRTIIK.

Bfoftecii 9 teirm ap^ed to aU tluog|i.wlHch ti».iuppoeed
to poflseai, Bubttance. We learn that things poBsefla sub*
•twioe|.throug)i our eenM9,flQiiiQtii]Qe8. aided by philoflophical
eiporiment. Matter is organJo when it possesses orgiuis or
oiig^fiis^ parts for snstaioiogliving aotioo.^ Matter is. inor*

Sjiic When it has no orgjanizedparts^ to sustain living action*
nlmab and plants; ace organic, matter ; a atoae ia inoigjanic
matter.

Fortiona of matter are called bodies. Tbe air, watec», the
eartli--aatooe» a ball, an animal,, a tree-— any subatantiaL
4hing^ wbjdi we can distingiaisb from other thingfH^— aca
bodlei. The Nudities which bodies possess are called their
propertiei* And all bodies of whatever kind; whether s^Ud,
liquldy or sriform, are accounted to possess the following
properties. Impenetrability, Extension, Figure, Divisibility,
loflftia, and Attraction.

1. Iii»iiiliTRABii.iTT is that ii»perty whereby a body
ezdades every other from the place which itsei^ possesses ;
BO that no two bodies can occupy the same space at the
aame time. Thus, even a pin cannot be inserted into a

gin-cuahion, nor the finest needle into a piece of Itaen, nn*
« some room, however small, be made for ita admission.
Tbe partides of-ligM bodies are more easily displaced than
IhoaiB of solids ; but such bodies are not, oo that account,
iew ily B iifr gMg; beeanse no other body can at the sama

nma^KOCTTWM, mahmu

tttr

m tub-
Bophical
rg^B or

I action*
lorgiuiic.

E' E»,th0i

ed their
er Miidf
allowing
isibility,

a bodjr

« at the
into a
en, nor
niwion.
edthan

CCOQDt,

leaama

UoM ooci^ thA place oC « liquid asf HMfe than of a ioliA
bodjf^ Xnii% ii a atone he put into a veaael eentainiaf
wattSi, pad of the liqpid will rise In ordee tooMk* way fir
tha atona$ Nor ia air itaalC les8< impenelmhle. PLaaige &
phial into a haain of water, and tba entry of the water into
the phial will be ahown by the gurgling noise, with whicli
the aki formeriy in the phial,, issues: forth in hubhlea^ in
oador tamaka way for the water.

% fiXTBMVioii ia another general property of bediea^
that ia» they all possesaiieBtifM, breatUhf, and dtpik A littlft
reflection will saiijj^ any one that every body, whether
aolid OB fluid, wh^fts a squafo bosi^ a round ball or the
moat slender hair, posseaa each of these dimenaioDa. Heiffkt
and depth, aie the same dimensions^ consideffed in difleisnt
points of view. When a body is measured downwardt, it
is said to be so many feet deep ; whem measured upwards,,
it is said to be so many (eet high ; and widths iain like auui-
neranothar name for breadib.

3, Fi0uaa is the shape or form of a body. Every thUig'
whieh iapoasessed of length, breadth, and depth, muabhave*
form of some kind or other.

4h. PiTiauuLiTT.— By this ia meant the ausceptibifity of
being divided into an indefinite number of partsi There- w
no particle of matter so small, that we may not conceive it
divinble into still smaller parts, were we possessed ofprioper
implementsi for this purpose.. The aotoal diviaibility of
booiea may be iUuslrated by an endlesa variety of examples.
It iasaid a single pound of wool may be spun so fine aa to
extend nearly 100 milee in length; and that a aingle .
ounce of ailver, when: gilt with eight grains of gold, maybe-
drawn into a wire 13t(^ feet long^ The same property of
matter is obvious in the case of sugar dissoived in a cup of
tea; aamall quantity ^ives, as every oneknow^ a flavour
to. the whole contents of the cup. In odoiiferous bodies, wa
havaaalill more^atriking illustration of very minutapar^elea
of a body^being separated front one aaother. Perlttpa- you
mtif aotbe awaae that the pensstien of imiil is, in mwtf
caae» ased uaed by partidea ealk'edeffluviaywhiek fly ipflam.
tha^^QdorifecouaJMdy, and coma laittoalaot with tllriiosa

iKiTftvenvB madii.

of the indMda«l who smellt it Tbii, however, if UBdOobt-
edly the caw, so that you can just as little smell a rose, if
none of its €fflMVia come in contact with your nostril, as you
can taste an apple without applying any part of it to your
tongue. Now these effluvia are not only so small, as to be
quite invisible, but their excessive minuteness will still be
better esttmated, when you consider how soon every part of
a room is perfumed by a nosegay or a smelling-bottle, and
the vast number of particles necessary for this purpose,while
as yet there has not been the slightest tentible diminution,
either in the bulk, or the weight, oL^e original body.
PMrtides of water are never destroyed oriost, although they
may disappear from our immediate observation. There
may be a change, in point of form and quality, as well as of
dimensions ; a solid may be converted into a liquid, or a
liquid miy vanish into thin air ; but not one created atom,
(so far as we have reason to believe,) ever perishes or is
annihilated. All continue, in one state or another, to fulfil
the ends for which they were destined, by their all-wiie
Creator, in the system of his universe. The decay of ani-
mal nr vegetable substances in the open air, or in the
ground, is only a process by which the particles of which
they were composed, change their placei^ and assume new
forms.,

5. Imirtia or Inactivitt is that property of bodies by
which they resist any change in their present state. When
at rest, a body shows an inability or reluctancy to move,
and will require force to put it in motion. When it is in
motion, it will no less require force either to stop, to retard,
or accelerate that motion. A stone thrown by the hand
would continue to move for ever through 8pac% with una-
bated velocity, were it not fc^ the resistance of the air, and
the force of gravity (to be explained in a future article) by
which it is brought to the ground. On account of the ten-
dency which matter has to remain in the condition in which
it happens to have been already placed, a great force is
necessary to set a vehicle, like a wsggon for example, in
motioai but when once this iseflfocted, it goes onward With
eomparative ease, ao that, in fact, a strong effort is necessary

UCtTftUCTLVI RBADBB.

261

ime new

before it can be stopped. If a penon be ttanding in it
when it ia suddenly set agoing, his feet are polled forwvrd,
whilst his body, obeying the law of inertia, remains where
it was, and he accoraingly falls backwards. On the other
hand, if the vehicle be suddenly stopped, and the individual
be atandiog in the same position as formerly, the tendency
which hia body has to move forward — for it acquired the
aanie motion as the waggon, by which it waa borne along —
will cause him to fall forward. Tltoee who have seen
hone-racing, may have observed that the horses shoot far

?ast the winning-pottt before their speed can be arrested,
'his ia alao owing to the inertia of their bodies. Matter, of
itself, is equally incapable of causing its own motion, or its
own rest.-^

6. Attbaotion is another property of bodies, and one of
the most important, ti is that tendency of bodiea to come
together and unite, when brought inte proximity with each
other. Experience and observation, demoifStrate that this
power of mutual attraction pervades all material things, and>
though unseen except in its results, is ever present with us.
It operatea both in small particles, and large masses. In
the former case it is called the atlraction of eohtaion^ that
is, the quality in nature which cauaes matter to cohere or
stick together. Were it not for the influence of this quality
among the particles of the same body, they would fall off
from each other, and the most solid mass would crumble
into atoms. It is much stronger in some bodies than in
oAers. In general it is more powerful among the particles
of solid bodies, weaker among those of fluids, and least of
ally or almost entirely wanting among elastic fluids, such aa
air and the gastes. It is this thatgivea to every drop of
water its spherical form. A small quantity of water for
example, auspended on any email point becomes a globule,
beeauae in that caae the attraction of the particlea towarda
their own centre is greater than the attraction of any neigh-
bouriog body. For the aame reaaon, when two dropa touch
eacli other, however alightiy,in anyone point, thity in-
medialMj run together, and unite in om large Mnile.
The operation of eobtaive attnictioB, it Ihm been iBid» iiMt

iRmDornrs mmanm.

equillf ■trMg in all bodies ; > and )wnoe it if, that «n6 •MMd
ia hanlarlhan another, one Huid ia thinner than another.
The hodiea in which this attraction operates most power-
fttllr are- termed tknat bodies, those in which it is "wesik are
said to be rare, Thtia gold is a denser solidthan 'weed ;
water is a rarer fluid than quicic-sil ver. It has often been
aslced as a pozzle among children, whether a poimd df lead
or a pound of feathers is heaviest t Every one, ■aecRiaittled
with the real meaning of the question knows, tiMt Ae
weight in both cases is precisely the same; but the Iffsisfi*
ttoiM of the pound of feathers are greater than ihom^f Ike
pound of lead, because lead is a much denser or more eon-
pact body than feathers. It is by the weight aecordlngly
that we are to judge of the density of a body; A dense b^y
will of course be much heavier than a rare one of the same
disMnslbas, on account of the greater quantity of «mtler
which it contains.

There is" a curious species of cohesive attraction called
capillary oUracti<mf (that is to say, the attraclionofhain)
because theinstruments of this attraction are slender tubes
like hairs; and it receives the above name from eapt/tc,
the 'Latin word for hair. A.great-varie^y of porous siibstan*
cesare capable of this kind of attraction, such as bread,
aponge, sugar, &e. which are composed of natural capillary
tubes, and illustrate this attraction. If a piece of sugar be
placed, so that its lowest corner touch the water, tiie fluid
will immediately rise through the capillary tubes of the
augar, till it reaches its remotest particle and tboa wet ^
whole mass. In the same manner, the wick of a lamp will
carry up the oil to supply the flame, though the 'flame If
aevflial tnchea above the level of the oil.

ORAVITATIOir.

Cohesive «ttraetioB operatea only in small paMielee ; and
haa no pereeptibVe «peiation, except 'between fwtioles lo
near aaeh other, that they are almost in actual contsiet $ we
•re aasr to eonsider Qaaivnunnoii, vi^cih operttia iven
vrUeh vm fdaoedvt wa hnmenM dlltaioe,

tiivmvcrriti' MAvra.

«>d wtth t foic»pR>porliMied to thtir qmatliy of matter.—
Svoiy itono^ whieh being thrown into the airi faHa upon the
gronndy ia an example of tbia attraction ; for what clae la it
which oecaaiona ita fall, but the attraction of the earth 1 If
there were no external force impelling or attracting It, whj
ahould it net, according to the general law of nature, ex-
plained in the preceding article, under the name of /inrfta,
remain at reatf or, can anyreaaon be aaalgned, why it
should not aa readily fly up to the eky, or diverge to the
right hand or to the left! What you may call the atone'e
veigM, you may suppose to be the cause, but this is not an
inherent property in the stone, independent of its connexion
with another body, but arises entirely IVom its tendency to
fall to the earth. The discovery of the law of gravitation,
whica bcui explained many of the grandest phenomena of
nature, was utterly unknown till the year 16f>5, and glori-
ous aa it is, owed its origin to an incident of daily occurence,
and apparently of the most trivial nature.

Sir Isaac Newton, the celebrated English philosopher,
sitting in his orchard one day, saw an apple fall from a tree.
Thia single circumstance called up in his reflecting mind a
long train of thought, with regard to the cauaeof the occur-
rence. He could account for it on no other principle than
the supposition of an attractive power in the earth. Carry*-
ing hia reflectiona farther, he was satiefied that this attrac-
tioa is not peculiar to the earth, but subsists among all
bodiea whatever; that as the earth attracts the bodies which
come within the range of its influence, so itself and varioua
other planets are, in like manner, attracted by the sun ; and
thiia at length did this great man disoloee to an astonlahed
world, those laws by which the wisdom of the Almighty
Ruler had governed his universe, from the first hour of ita
creetion, but which during so many ages of its existence,
"lay hid in night/*

If the earth attracts all bodies near its snrfacej you may
suppose that smoke, steam, air balloons, &e. which ascend
through the air, in place of falling to the ground, are exeep-
t'ona to the general law of nature. But in truth, theae phe»
nemenai when rightly understood, are in perfect accordance

SMi

INITAUCTIYI ftlADUU

with it If J09 thiMr • bit of corli into • tub of w..«r,
it ifiaMiIialafj ri«t tiain to the surfaoei bceauM the ooric
it lighter than the water ; and if you pour more water into
the tuh,,thii will* for the Moie rea«on, diiplace theoork and
force it to riie Hill higher. For the like reaeoa, MDoke and
■team, and every vapour which it higher than the tarround*
ing almoipherey rite through it tea rrgion where the air Ji
of equal dentity with themttlvei. You will thut underttand
that a body- lighter than the turrounding air atcendt $ that
one of equal denaity remaint tutpended in it ;.and one of
greater denaity falla through it Even the falling bojijj how-
ever, ,encounte(i conaiderable reaiatanoe or obatruction from
the air in ita deaceat. If you throw a atone into a **'b of
water, it will fall more alowly than if the water were taken
out of the tub ^ and if the air aa well aa the water were taken
out of tHb veasel, the atone would deacend more rapidly atill.
Thia reaiauince of the air ia in proportion to the aorface of
body exposed to the reaiatance. A alieet of paper will fall
much more quickly, when wrapt up in a ball, than when ita
whole aurface ia ezpoaed to the air. You may try the foU
lowing aimple esrperiment for youraelvea ; a piece of paper
of the aame aiae andahape with a penny will, of courae, fall
much more alowly through the air than the copper, the
quantity of matter being much leaa ; but if you lay the paper
cloae upon the piece, ao long aa little air intervenea between
them, they will continue to fall together. — There ia in every
aolid body a point, calted the ceiUre ofgravHy, about which
all the parta exactly balance each other. If thia point be
aupported, the body will be ateady ; and if not it will fall till
it ia aupported. Thua, let the line A B repkeaei^t a table,
and the figure G D E F
a box; the box muat
fall, beicauae ita centre
of gravity, C, ia not aup- . ^

ported, aa iaahown by
the perpendicular line
Cj: H» (which ia called
the Hn€ of dirtetioih) ____^
falling o» the outaide of A
Ibe figure repreaeming

Uuil he 4oai Mt Utp^ hit , «iMiti «f . gmilf. letoMliivor,

hit lipdgr* iailiti ^ b^UPten h|i fe«(t , eHMiitjK^ ttiv

V ,. Von wiU juMT alMrpffotivit Mm iwiipa^ Idif « biil:iW2i
donrQ ^flopfl^ w|iil« A iqiitmibo^ mrij tfidbt<^oiraM > fflM
baUcantmioli ilM Mivitybaly i» a nifb'polit, o^'m
Ibt point ia not i»$lie UM^«rdlMetiot, Htmttv^m^t^y^
It i^tpupportad. Where eveiy pert of, e body k^if^oel
doiiiii^ the middle of the hedy, whieh ii ealled<<li tMf
of mgMMh ie elio the oeetn of ettnustion. But hioiate
one; pert of e body ii 100101111108 mede of heavier telwiet
than eoother, the centre of megnitHdo ie aoT e l ope ye ^the
centre j>f privity. Hence, by pettieg e heavy ftebelMioe'iii
pi^ of a body, the wtk of whieh it oompotedoT UfMer Hia-
teirialt maay^ eate^hiing expeQntenta niey be nowor in
which bodies refute to reoMuo et rett ia what would appear
tp heil^filr natural petition.

LJLwt oricetieir*

Motion depeodt upon a variety of ctfoantlanoet:*^
K From what was formerly taid with rtgtrd to the tiMifib
Qfii|fi^iV»itappeBrt that nobody hegiot to mov^ except
thfottgh ,tbe operttijte of tome power, which keqpe it in
motiea. . l!hj# poving poweiv whatever it be, r» Oalled
/oroi. TlMli9;in jiiaying hand-ball, the blow givta hy the
l|fnd If; toe loree which iippelt the ball { the pnUin|^of the
hoiitfif^lt the for^ which drawt a wagfotf* < 2. When a
hpdy,l9 aG|lfd-)u^ hy e eiegle forte, itt motiooi etmighthe
e3Rpep/^iai«l^y«Mattnijght line, end in the diieiQtien
of ibejfo^ivhioli niovea it. 3. The veftatfywilikvrhieh
«^|^,oi0iiret, thetit» the iitHaaee which jt iboveeHi^m
g^f^llmei it jtlwiyd io prapior^ion to the ior«e wfaiehr|kirit
UyiM(|(^ jjfhwii If (rftwo hodlet oeegoei eighifltf^itfaii

%^iii^|i}^ the pim^ ^ iour, j(he v^M^ efihh An^

■«'•. *,■

llltmOOTIV'l WBMOUMm

Mot iIm whoto flfTHii

OTRsm nQNif vzpofea 10 !■• inencNi or n»mng oi u
tad iIm iMittanoo of tho airy it avwy noment mo|
bf iIm foroe of grivtlatloii» It tniv, pofhtpt, te
«Mt Iht daMitioii offho noluHi will cwpend apoB the

WWMb Wm , QMy- ■•V9f 1Brill|Mllt

tPiHtliM MUB* vtloaiijr, wit It oiolMlivetod, this mocioii
will eontiaue for tvtr. It it trae, tlMt a tloiit feNed
aloag tiM irauM by oaa impolto of th# head, goft eterf
aHltoeal mora aad moia riowlr^ uatil at length it tlo^ aKo-
■tthaiw Sot thea, it irill be iwneiabered, thtt the ttone,
betUp belai ezpoted to the frietide or rabbing of the earth,

aoledapon
thop^^t,

pond opba the tliength
of th« lAoving foree. This, however, it qoife
a anittabe. If a body leeelfe onir a gtatle impobe, ilt Ao-
tioayaa wrhave teen, will be how, but thii tlow motion,
unlMBOoitnteraoted bf tome other force, will eontlniie for
eveiv 5. The foiee with which a body in motion actt up-
oa aaodnr body, it called momeiUim, and thii dependt up-
on two circomttancet, namelj, the quantity of matter or
y>tighif and the quantity of motion or velocity of the moving
bo^. Every one knowt by experience that the heavier
anv body it, tne greater it itt force $ but, by incretfing the
veloeity of a lighter bodv, you may render itt MotMnftiti
araeh grtaler than that of a heavier one. Upon thit princi-
ple^ though you may place a pound-weight Upon an earthen
piate,witlN>nt doing it the teatt injury, yet, if you let the
weight All from the height of only a few inchet^ it will, in
eontequeace of the velocity which it hat that acquired,
dath the plate to piecet. If you let a pound iVeif^t fell
upea the floor ftuai the height of only an inch and a quarter,
it wSK etiike the floor with a eionMfifom equal to twice itt
weights You will eee thea, ia order to atcerlaia the aio-
mmitm ef a body, you must multiply thewitight by the
veloeity* Thut, the mominhim of a body of twopouadt
weMifiaBoviBg at the rate of 19 feet ia a tecoad, It taid to
bt nli beeaaia t nnddpliad into l^fivet 88 $ die flietiiwlM«i
of A^My of one pound weighti mevin|at therale'of tl
feMlttvaaaoad^iaahien; lad then aiipaitiifaaiaif^
te daia^ aa at fc t ft t. Whenever eaa bady aile aiii ialt^
thar»itliaMl bf awf eyaaf tuil ^en fn » 'j f tifatg nat la to

uyifHwyiw Mipau

It*

bj Mirttert ibiU wlilell n?« tll9ialp|lM^il#lf MmM^
itsly itopt In iti ooonsi by th« vi-ieiio« of th9 om It 4i»*
pbcet^-^WitlMNii AB MqiiMilaiiM wltb t|i«i tevt of m^timif
bj which aetion it alwajfo ooooniptQied by a^^nlmj M-
aetioB, you would be q«uo M « Ion tp^fxplfiiQ, how a Uid
ii «oabled to lupport itaalf in ibo air« Thia it owing antlidy
to the raaetion of the air, when tlrock by tha ytk^jt #f the
bird, ir the force with which tho bird ■trikfit that air balow
it, bo equal to the wc^ight of Hi own body» it wiU raaudn
•tationaryi if tt be greaier it wili riM{ if loMi U wiW (all.

LAW! Of Monoid— (fplUMlMrf.)

We are now to turn our attention to tboie motionii iprhieK
are produced either by the meesMoiU estrUtm of tht JMM
force, or by the eombiiud tapiifm of different fiiraea.—
]. ifthd forces which eet a body in motion, do not eeaae to
exert itwlf at the moment when the body ia lit in motion,
but continue in a itate of inoeaiaot exertion during the whole
of its cfiiarM, tho moilMn thoa wiH not be uniform hot OOB* '
tinually acoiJfrfli^.^ m ^W^likm words, 4ha valodty of the
body will become «#||y j|^aiiinl freater ^ad neaterw This
will explain to foo the mmmi why a falling body deseenda
with so much griater feUoity M the and than at tha bMin«
ning of ita fall. Th» x»!km. if in acoeleratad motion oTthe
fatting body is thia. When a body falls from a height* the
force of g^vity, which aeta Hin motion aithe Qnt faiflutef
its fidl, would b^ sufficient to bring it to the greoad v^ a
uniform motion, thiru^ that force had instanlly ocpaad*
But the Ibrcaof gravity ope.iale% not in the finpt imlaat
merely, but in every succeeding inetevt of tha boMi lUl |
The force, therefore, which itseceives at tha seoendiiittaat,
ia added to that of the flrs^ and the foraii with wMeh il
faUa In the last instant, is qompoaed of ^ the fog^earwldeh
itvecei«ed in eve^ initint or iielaU. y Ithas aolM^iiMy
been ascertained that heavy bodiea descending from a heigbt|

itmLmM'iiti%w:

tlM^tf^* tkl^^diifiaili^ IffT^^'i^
tiM iaihl IbHtfi M 96 6klS^ntm^

thffoiih In t giv^ tiiMcri* ddteninliiM by th^ fbltttWlri^ mbdb
of^diiipiittlidh. Tikt lh(^'«qtitr#orMrnihn^irvm^^
the honiber iiiiilti(»lied bjr itieir,) thdllhiiltlpry thi^ t^tittie bjr
16^ tHiibfe it the number of fbet hWbtt duMng the flnt •econif,
ami the lemh ii, the tmoohi of feet Which the body alto-
gether fails. For example, if a bait occupy ^ leconds in
faHihg, \ye talce the square of B which is 9 ; then we multi-
ply 9 by 16 which gives 144 as the result, and that is the
number of feet Atiien. Again if we find that the baii occupy
4 seconds in fallingt we talte the square of 10, which is 16,
and multiply 16 by 16, the result is 256, whiich is the num-
ber of fee^TalleD. And so oD| always follovyiDg the same
rult of computation. V

2. If a t)ody be, at the same instant, acted upon by two
opposite but unequal forces, it will move in the direction of
the strong force, but with a velocity diminished in propor-
tion to the other.

3. If a body be put in motion, by a force which instantly
ceases, and be at the sanie time, acted upon by an opposite
fofWf Whidi- originally is not suffioioni to prevail over the
other^' but i^ontihues in eohstanf exertion, the body will have
a continually rttarded moHoh Or, in other words, its velocity
wiU be eveiy moment diminished; till, at last, the counter-
acting and unceasing force will completely predominate, and
the movement will take place Under its influence in the
opposite direction. Thus, if a stone be thrown up perpen-
diculariy from the eerth, its motion wHl, in consequence of
the force of gravity, be more and more retarded, until at
lengtli, in plaOe of ascending, it falls back to the ground in
the same line by which it roee. It is a circumstance welt
worthy of attention, tliit the stone descends in precisely the
same time in which it ascended.— 4. If a body be at the

ame instant, acted upon by two different but not directly
opposing Ibrces, its motion will not be entire! v in the direc-
tion ef either, but compounded as tt wcr^ of both, and the

and'

uriTiit^OTif I tiitifr.

360^

ighiodb
fthitii,
unre by
leeonify
dy ftlto-
onds in
9 multi-
It is the
occnpy
h is t6,
le ntim-
;e same

by two

Nstion of

propor-

nstantly
DppoBite
Diver the
rill have
vdocity
ounter-
Bte, and
in (he
perpen-
lence of
until at
ound in
ice well
(sely the
at the
directly
ediree-
andthe

body will aeeeirdiogly moire in 4 lino betweon the Ifrd.
ThMy tf « body'be it onee aefed upon bj two edual tm^i
one of wbfoh would ctrnr it directly ■ouUiy thl Uie (mUt
diroetly eiit, it wiH aetualfy move In a iKmtb<«ail diiedllttV
To explain tbia by a diagram ; if a ball, placed at the l^aY
Ay be at the tame time impelled by two equal Ibreeii ouI'm
which, if operatrnf by itielf, would, in a aeeond of ttnif,
carry it to the point B, in the direction A B, and th6 o^r
would, in the same time, carry it to the point C,ih 'tbe,d|-
rection A Cy it will move in the direction of the int^e*
diate Uhe AD, and arrive in a second flit the pdl^'v*
Suppose the two forces to'be un'^qua1,and that the TA^e'
impelling the ball in the direction A B is double the (b^'e
impelling it in the direction A C. Here' it is plain, that if
the former force had acted alone, the ball would have ieach«
ed the point fi, in the same time that the tatter force, if act-
ing alone, would have carried it to the point C, which h
only half the distance. Now, when both forces act together,
the ball is, in the same time, moved to the poini S, in the
diagonal line A F. An attentive examination of the dia-
gram will show, that, in combination, no less than when
the forces acted separately, one of them has precisely double
the effect ef the other. The distance wkrch the ball has
moved from its original situation, by the force Impelling' it
in the direction A E^ is obviously twice as great as the dii^
tance which it has moved by the force impelling it in the
direotioa A B. It is
will also lie seen, that the
motiony produced by two
forces acting together, is
not to:great a» that which
ivvpi^odeced' by the separ-
alff; acttoa of each y for
the^iagsnal A FisMobvi*
ottSfy not equai to A E
and E F added together.

-'^rH;:!"^?;-^

nuts

m^m^w

pf^fiL^ a!l^,ipim TWnrllllll ft l|t|)ipd90iiiHl i»X d*«(|^^*t«

0^smm % iiifti(^liiM» «p4^ct)iiti whtfiili 9«n&Kid

1^ 9^ Mf m ill OMilrf ^ im4io»0

^igi f iiji; ii cftiM ^ <3#A^0 9i f«f 0ki^ of tbft

09 mora kkKoi jnovo^iiMck fouad the tinM GOftHtit
ftt (pfimnt djiMMiice% wUhift t^ impo timo, that whioh m
m^lpiiio^;froiin llie <ieii^ wUh the gifwlett ^o-

citj^lijlpftiiio ,H M caidod round io a largo cirele> iiitbo vorf
•aiQft Ipiiio io wUchithe othoio are carried rowd ooiy in
•mdtier circloa* Tor iheaame reaoo»» when a bodjr ro*
y6Lrt» rouod ita owa axiit m {lioportion to the diatoooe of
any p^of^^e body from this |txia»theffeateria the folodly
i>f tiMif part, tliio iff a prineiple« which it wiU be oeoeiiafy
Ibrirop to hecii cttteMly in mindtaa itia a fundaflieiitalono
iyi tho eowriniotipo of niaohiaerjr.

MBOBAjKIO^I* Powamob

\a 0ot«riiif upon tho^oonaaderation of the anechanieal
poiWi U will honeoeaaaiy forfon to m mem b e r the leading
Pfiaidpb IbnoipH J eiplfi

of ft lifter imdnftturall J wfidcei^iiodft we may iftoder ita
fliMMinMi much greater than that of a tieavJer aiid atronger
Ofto. The main porpoae reqoiled ta mechanieftl opOMdena
If to overcome, oppoae, or aoatain^ft certain aeaialanee of
fiMce. The ability of applying fovee by the hvmaa haidi,
withoi|t the aid of inabraments or mftOhineay ia very finutod.
In ftlmoat all ear opofitiona of arty it In fomidrft < oeaBOiy lo
dtll ia Ike aU of iaatramenta or awachiiea of ooom Idiid*
9ftt^evenin tbia department, in whieli a»nwiOh hje bean
diM» that it. gAU^ng to the piidi «f oMtty Jbeift ireiao
m«eli to vemmd bim of hie impoteneftyftiidlo laiflhiiiiiifta
UMlnNtife leaaoft of komiU^r" Jt d aa i rt ea to be reaBemberw

IMnPlMNmfS MMMM^^

to iriM leiilnMt 'llMl« w»}|llf to th« 1^
OMolwfiiim^jUisltwr Inv W lo^ted;^^ Anry

pomrtonipB Umt iiMMMid #^i|flia^.'bigfti to one imtiitif^^
ori in «b€fter tine than ten an^iitM^ AR the ihstiniiDettti
which naahiai have adopted for their iriie^ act upon eeMatnl
fixed' pruieipieiio ■a Hi i r e ^ irhich a 101% ooorse of t^n^
eneo m ocioBtifte i»votti|Bti«ii hit dereloped. Theio are
tiz mechanieal powera, one or mote of #Moh enter into
theioenpoation of everjr raachine^the iLctMy Wikitt
AMD AzLSy PuuKT, liictilti^ Pla^H, Yfttiom AfA
S^Rlnr.': * -n-H-H*^ ■■•■• '--^ ■ ■^-," ^ - • '-'-^'j^ ^''' ^' '■•'■/
1. The Xiv«» ia the nioBtiin^ oTnll #iie. I^H^Aii
iniaxiUo «od, or bar of iron^ wood, or any othei> inalterial,
mlhieh bgr moving upon or about a |»rop or/y^ntM (as it^
citfodf) it of nae in raising weighta to a smaH heigHf. It
d^noaaaia name liter from a Freiioh Werd;iigiil^ing''lo
caiaoi The lever ia of three kinds. Tho' first kiHdfiii thai
in which the fulcrum or support is plaieed betvi^eeM this
weight end the power. It is often used Ibr the removal of
heavy pieces Of timber. For thil puirpoBO orte i^tid M ^he
bar is forced beneath the timber or body tdlie l^oved, and
resting it upon a block or p|^ as a fUcrani, tfie Wbrikmeh
apply their atrength to tlie nirther e^t^mity Of IJ, by which
the bodfia at length remov^. It Wa'general rule that
« the force of the lever increaseslo jJMrO^Srtibn ate th4 dia»
tance of the power flcom fhte fiddrtilii inci^eseSj ahddlml-
nisheoln^pfOportion as IhediMOn^e of the weight from the
fidortHR dloikHshesf/* The'ordinary'baliin<^ for weighing
goodie kicfeiMnrally aocoutaied' i lever of ttHlilHMf. TWe
may'lMy^nd iadeetfaretw^ kinds Of Balafii^ea. In tholiiMl
va«io«i«t«i|hia«M «Mip(oyed'$>iiril(e^dtK^^ ill artidtliafl^
weighed by the same weights; ftrt^filae^'it iMfeieikl 4«i^
taMgofiMa tfceilricnMM^^ or^klilMtkhid^ M^M'^J,
Thia^ Oliver having two4if^ni( of vef|^ tfiiinil^ liln^li
Afrlhi MW Wa s ty 0^th01heirl«^iiM(li mii^iMAmwmi^

VU»9Xmit9^

pl^i, i^WiJl ^^no9i .fn .wtiole^ 9r< ^10 poUmb weigl|li<^The
^c;coii4 l^ind ofleyer is tliaVlni w^ch the Ailctum w placed
al, ^ e^tmmityi itv^ powor ii «pplted «t tha other, and the
weiflJit to be raiaedV |Mtwe9»'t)ie fiilefiam thi power.
Iq thi« IfBvef, the pQw^r gpMned'ia JiMlrie much the greaterj
zn^ t^/dl8^Q99 >3tWMQ thei petntf at which the .pewer is
apiplied^ aiui^the, ,Cn\o^^m$-j^ipiM$/6t than the distance be-
tfveen the point, at which the weight is suspended aad^the
r^q^uifi. ,^^wi, )e)t A F lepieseAt a lei»r df thii kkid,
having f^filliiru^i, at the e«treinityiF» and aiibice'eppUed
%t the ot^^r eiztijeinity A, for tne purpcM^ of raisingtK weight
fpspei^e<| a^t P^be^wfeii, theott^er two parts.^ 3*1^111^^
causf tojo, point A/is,ff^Mff iiines at mucb removed; Aem F,
the cenVre.pr utoUoiv as jthe poi«t iBiisy: il has ibtir tines
i)ll. veilpcityi aadr -jj^aaBCA. ■ .,C -^^ iMua-jA 'ja» o:.--^i'*f ^r.
^hraugi^^Jlfirgw apacQ .,1, y,>i4^ .r*vr«><j -*ti? Iwifi ifigbv.'
A, CV- u;i..tho..v^.<|9fim<|..i> /"i >^wf« /lo^w^iq v:viJ^'>'
tiqi|(Bth^;i$.p^iMf^inGyii^ r:L»t^Mmf^^ ,

opIt^ (o«M^paitp(;A$(!lf... |;-fc.f.^f|f Of !<^rM^^JiV<r/ -vkiq,.
ai)4t|[»fi^io!n^l^tW/eightpr j L^twv'*'! i!^^;!»"i! ' -^ " ^ '.

wjilhay^ aa^ii^vphrpoj^fftrjiproiff peuiids al ]^. > i; Vi ; .^ir)
^,hei| ypujr9)s$,iup, at,4)tMiend'a bench) iipof eVi^bioh a
Mi^H^n is ^Hi'tqgfi ift jwstf , jM », Jewf of ' VM<««Piildi>k»i»dMao
mh^t yoj^.jipplji jrQHri^f«i»gh in the laftb«i^e»tQipiU)M»]^
^9^,..M ,^ith pu^^,.#fiEe^;!M9 tbw \tj9»-m9^ip,9»m^

It^itK^i^ittiiifliidif^persgp ^iftKai^-// ymr-H f^ui vii ^Jt./i^i^*/.
;. iJtvf^ thm^MwibiWi ^teJew»

miffiF94i m^mm }»mmi iimghj <» mmmm^h

tmmAV'SiMtit its

axld : and d^W^ueiiW Mt a fo^e^ ap^^ M^lSeet

h^%Mp<tm than tt&'saiiie fi>it;e M^^l^ o^i^l Ir
pN^mi i^H^ eii^i^^^dr^anidt^r^^^^
g^ier iKyth fhai'bf tKg a^l^. irm' diamete? of (lie ^vH^^
be ten 1ifh^tfiat''bfth^^te;an^ power ^^^
whiiiil %in htfi^e tfiiS'sa^e jibt^r; as^ M iim^s tp iW^
appli^iir this ixle. Toil Have pfbbably ^e)i ^dier drawn'
up firbtti a deep Wen b^ ikieiin's'i^f k tincket fiefeii^d to a i'bp^l
w&ioN Sdll^: itfttnd ^ fdehdef iyv(^vil% eyliiy^r (or Wtiirid^
bart »r^W^ Wifbn; Iftit til put iin mSlldn by fiirde aphWeif
tO'lL«iMl#«5i!*d it^^N^erid br it, HKe ilie bahdie of ifc^fti- ;
mdri^^fki^d iii!l^r H^ It is Mbf^ tHat tite p€^(ih*»
hiiid' wht<t1i:i)i appir^dto ih# fiiM/ mpves >otW^ W\^'
e\H^ fo tlii^iiM ti me tli4« Iia6h| iiolnt of t^e cyHHd^r^' ^oni^d
wbi6H' fhei rbpe ^8 eoIH^^ desbribes dtily a smtltt |>ne ; 1^
that ((dweir accd^lb^fy Is gainied ih )>rdpQ^ti<)n WtUe cirL#
desisribdd by the MkM i^|reftter thkh the icI^nMf^ivci^lt-
thd cylinder. ' HtfrtB¥iiiiiSeibrcebeeh Iptilfi) lb tbi toylfh^^

der' itsMf instead bT ■■m'- mmmM' bucket '&im!nmm:
movdd' lit lii. thb 4ic^ mt In^^laie' tHe ^|h^^ W*
handle, and Cji^ns^a^iAf ^ifll^^ i^li^ult W^^

th^ iftiiie'eriips^ni. v^liliaSBCa^;^ td'^le^

mMMi

v?^'lkll i>iii%%) mpyeii ^to)^ ^y^, ibe weight By jaeant

-Wt W)"^^ P^^^» ttie pi^wer (• doublcdi i\iid| bj a

conbinaiioii of ibem^ int^y bf) gi(^At6tjr muUiplied.

IV. Thi li^9LiN<x> Pi.4Ni.— ]9if this if im

iiiiQfat BoUiiDg
elii<^ jljhaii a^ ilpfle or decUyity,, emfloyed iiii order to fender
tfie ascenlVQir a. heavy body eaal^r th^n it W91M have liean
ih;a|H^n^Di||^ar d^i^c l^itb^ fidl^ppec-

atioii of ifio force of gn^vity. 0f thjB applioa^^f ttus
power^ yott mtiy see daily jinstanoM, in tke.alppiiigpIaQkitt
wh^ch are laid for the parpose of towering or caiinng packa-
ges to or frpw a vyarehoufie, beloW the level of tlie ftiee^ pr
injeipovipi a Heavv biurrel, &c. Mito oromtjsita
Thf^u^^t^e pnncipfe apon wbiel^^tbe ijDcliiM^ ]

mm imi^mi^
•phcnre. Tw,itia clear that a bpdy wiU von d^witllM
deicUylur A C with less velocity than It would fell in the
pprfiep^i^lar^A 3 ;, and that in Ulie manner it woidd roll
dow^ fi^D w\^ le^ti ^^P^^hl ^^ H ^;4pwn A C. For
the it^vo^^^fgm, piwrn ^W^^\^^ ^^Me P kf^ it en the
deoOv^j^ A,)^ Of jb oaahe iifiacen4 th&t )ine,jliaii yioipld
bene^Bj|i|iiylHth.i96^ i %

^IH^ ^yri^jgAnti^^^Bw^ <i^thAiB^fied

and A D ia ^ree timea the teagpi ^f A j^i/aigiff peppifi

iifitinnmti kiniiEi.

97d

light nupemled in t|ii ilr 1il i^V i^ to i^^^^
■iiflaili:lwo pounds Itid '

on the ilopo A C« or '

three poundi apon A A'
0. Chitels and other
■harp iMtrumentt tlop*
ed down to an edge on
one lide only, are ac-
counted to act on the
principle of the inelin*
edpiane. , '

It it by inclined planei that we reach the higher floon of
a houie from the ground, or attain other elevations. For all
sudi porpoebs, the in<^jined ^iani^ is formed with steps to in*
smi oUr saAi footings AH stairs or flights of steps are in-
dhied plani^.

T; Tki WcDGi is a piece of wood or iron, having a
sharp edbe, and growing confinoatly thicker towards the
base. This instrument is employed for cleaving solid
miises asunder, to comprflls bodies more closely together,
and to move great weights through small spaces. ' The
power employed to force the wedge forward is dther re-
pealed blcws with a mallet or bflmroer, or the gradual pres-
sure ef a weight This mechanical power is founded oii
the principle of the inclined plane, which, in this case is
moveable and the load or weight it affects is at mit
When, therefore, the wedge slopes on both sideiC it consists
of two inclined pUinea joined together. Let AB C represent
the surface of thte imjileilif^nt. The point C is inserted into
the body to be cfeft, ahdy bjr means of vioi^iit bidws wj^,
the bas^ A B, the whole wedge forces its wat. tlie MM!
the breath of the base A B'ls in proportion to^thelMgjh
of the two sides A, d»3 Q,^ gr^iter iii 1^ i^^

pqsrer. It iscal^^lalMi •^i^Wf » tin ^<^» MtlfAC
aad«^4akefi tog^er, fci'l^j^tl^
the power wm bi;#<|^1p^|bif;^^^

"*fnnrfl Tf v^ tpphIt^^*

'jti»?

ine W0a|^t|i9 MftDlt|e aoquiroa y^.^ i,^,,.,,. , v-ji ^i**
is conoMled to be itiU freater^Uit "
divided pwrti a,6ting m Mven m^ ^
in opening e piiN8|e for the wedp». ^
Axes, chiMli, end other jlitip in* .,,,,TL^„aif
struments act on th^ prin^jpie of the ,^^,
wedg^. It is one bfthe tnany proors ,..,
ofVisdoffi displayed in the creationi '^,1^ ^
that the beaks of birds afe fbrmed
111 the shape of wedges, for the pur-
pose of enabling them to dig into the C
groi^fidrorJ^to thj&{Nirl( ff |^ ^nd

l^Wf r |w liiire

ly ,80 6alt«if, and^thi nut. The ierew eonsists^^f, i.psojftel-
ing ridge winding in a spiral direction, round a central 'cylin-
der or spindle,, in the 8ain|B manner as thjj^ ^^l>e/Qr ii^taf ce,
tmlBsjSind a p6le, This prbtub«r|f|Wi8 f^^eijiM$^d.
The s^w has no powejf by i^f- It ^ <jpe!r|fcp onIy..by
^'efhsibf piiessurB flgainstih^ thi%d^ bfatfofl^r iprew uiiich

si^ j0m is M dot i«>ptftl^v^ a f l^ih
Mrfect exactness lyith ^i^ Isilw wWcjh has Jb y^i^. ji^ it.
The "Cfew a^ts upon the Mficipki of aA tw^mi plm, by
whit^iHi^j^^ gf^aiiy

.Cml ptecft o/Mpetm t^e sifape of Jbe ,4 ..., ^ ^^

I TTi'H 1»W;<^

IMTRUOTIVI lilABBB*

877

.■» h\^

rucjlin-

I only, .by

the lever end infellned plene, lo Uielit ii reilly A eettpdund
machine. In the inclined plain, aa haa been aeen» the leaa
it is inclined, tlie more easy ia the aacent, though the alower
18 the prooeta of rising lo a certain elevation. In applying
the same principle to the screwy it ia obvioua that the great-
er the distance is betwixt the threads, the greater dr more
rapid is the inclination, and hence the greater ibust be the
power to turn it under a given weight.

tHE PEMDULUK.

The properties of the Pendulum are not only in them*
selves a curious subject of investigation, i^ut also have
acquired far greater interest and importance iiroro their con-
nection with the measurement of time. This implement
consists of a thread or rod with a weight attached to it,which
vibrates (or moves alternately bacltward and forward) about
a fixed point to which it is suspended. The following are
some of its leading properties: —

1. If a pendulum be drawn aside ou< of its perpendicular
direction, and then let go, it would, by its gravity, not merely
return into its perpendicular direction, but in consequence
of the force which it has acquired during its fall, would
ascend to its former height on the other side, and thqs con-
tinue for ever to descend and ascend, were it not for the
efibct of friction and the resistance of the air. In the same
manner, a body which has descended an inclined plane will,
by the force which it has acquired, ascend another equally
inclined plane joining the former at the bottom. Thus, boys
when sliding, as they often do, upon small sleighs, down a
hill with great rapidity, would find, that were another hill
close to the bottom, they would, by means of the velocity
acquired in descending, easily ascend to neariy the same
height. The Russians, in winter, accordingly pile up ice
Bo as to form a declivity, sloping with a smooth surface, and
then commence another pile, which rises to nearly the same
height, but not quite. It again slopes down to the river,
and again another commences, and sd on. And they
amuse themselves in siidihg over them in sleigjia inade id
the purpose.

478

IirlTAVOTIVB RIADIR.

2. The length of time which « pendulam takei to mtke
% vibration, that if, to deaeend and ascend to its former
height, dependi upon the length of the string or rod. This
fundamental principle may be easily ascertained by any one.
If you take two strings of unequal length, with weights sus-
pended to them, and make them vibrate, you will find the
' time in which tlie longer performs a vibration, to be greater
than that which has been taken by the shorter one. If the
one ^*ring be four times as long as the other, the shorter one
will ^rform two vibrations in the time that the longer per-
formb only one. Hence it is, that by shortening of the pen-
dulum of a clock, you make it go faster, and by lengthening
of it you make it go slower. Owing to the power of heat
to expand most bodies, the pendulum of a clock is longer in
flummer'than in winter, and hence the clock goes slower.
To counteract as much as possible this vibration, great at-
tention has been paid to the choice of the material of which
the pendulum is made.

8. The time of the vibration does not, in the slightest de-
gree depend iipon the weight of the suspended body,

4. Neither is the time of the vibration in any degree af-
fected by the height, from which the pendulum is let fall.
If you take two pendulums of equal length, and raising the
one to a much greater height than the other, let both swing
off at the same moment, they will perform their respective
vibrations in precisely the same time.

MECHANICAL PROPERTIBS OF FLUIDS.

A- fluid is a body, the particles of which yield to any im-
pression, and are easily moved amongst each other. Fluids
are of two kinds ; what are called non'tlastic fluids or li'
^uidi, such as water, oil, quicksilver ; and elastic fluidst i
auch as the atmospheric air, vapours, and gases of every
description. It is, the mechanical properties of liquids that
are to occupy our attention at present. Liquids are veiy
little ausceptible of compreasion into smaller bulk than their
natural state. In consequence of the attraction of cohesion
operating less strongly in liquids than in solids, graviiyt oo

miTRVOTIVB RBAOBR*

379

the other band, in liquids, hat a more perfect operatioD.— -
While gravity acts upon a solid body as one collective mass,
it has a more independent operation upon eaeh individual
particle of a liquid body. Hence it is that a liquid always
finds its level, and maintains a smooth and horizontal sur*
(me. All the particles of a liquid body, in consequence of
this independent gravitation, press against each other not
only downwards, but also sideways, and even upwardir. — >
Were there no pressure sideways in liquids, why is it that
we always see water run out of a vessel ^hen an opening
is made in one of its sides t This pressure, no less than that
directly downwards, is the result of gravity, and is occasion-
ed by the upper particles, in their attempt to descend,
forcing aside those beneath them* It follows from these
facts, that the lower an opening is made in the side of a ves*
pel containing a liquid, the greater in proportion is the pres-
sure with which it is forced out; and this is not afiectsd by
either the breadth or width of the vessel. But it was said,
that the particles of liquids have a preiisure not only down-
wards and sideways, but also upwards. If, into an opening
made in the side of a vessel filled with any liquid, a tube b^
inserted, like the spout of a tea-pot, sloping upwards, the
liquid ivill immediately aecend in the tube till it stand at the
same height with the surface of the liquid in the vesseli—
This, however contradictory it may appear to the doctrine
of gravitation, is in truth an additional illustration of tt, as
it is the consequence of the pressure from above, wbich im-
mediately causes the fluid to issue at the only outlet leftXor
its escape. The principle that a fluid will always find its
own level, is one of the greatest pracUcal importance.-—
It is by a knowledge of this law of nature that water is
brought from a great distance in pipes, and distributed oyer
a whole town, not only in the lower, but in the upper Opqrs
of the houses, provided they be not above the level of the
surface of the water in the reservoir from which it flows;—
From ignorance of this principle, or of the mode of itrf ap-
plication, the ancients thought themselves .under the necfs-
sity of ejecting magnificent andcoatly aqufiducts, over wJiich
the.,w*>!EX.wwcQnducteid,. ... , ' > ^. ,. , .^^

mnnmntm maimmi.

' ;lt it ia oonatqiMoot of the prasiura of the pariielei of ai
iluld that aof lifhttr body immened in it it borne up to the
ifiuiac6» a body ofequal weight ioata in it, and a heavier
one ia retarded la ha deacent by the resiatance of the fluid
depcrving the body of part of its gravity. In coniequenee
of ihia teaiatance every body auspended in water loaet aa
much ef ita weight (which it had when weighed in air,) aa
is equal to the quantity of water displaced by it. It ia also
Plata thatlevenr body that ainka in water displacea aa much
of the fluid aa la equal to its own builc. It ia bulk alone,
noi*weighi, which is in this matter to be eonaidered. Thme
pnopertiea of fluids have been of great service in ascertain-
ing, vi^bat ia I called the specific gravity of bodies. Two sub-
Htaaeea are aaid to have an equal specific gravity, when a
quantily of the one has precisely the same weight with a
quantity of the other of the same bulk. On the other hand,
if^.cubio inch, for example, of one aubstance, vv jigh more
thania.oubic inch of aiiQther, the former is uaid to have a
gceater specific gravity than the other. You will readily
penseive, that it must be an extremely useful thing to adopt
someone aubstance aa a standard, by which the apecifie
gravity of all othera may be compared. Now, the proper-
tiea we have been coinsidering, as well as some other cir-
cum4lan)cea connectvtl with water, have led to its general
adopCioB (br this purpose. Its use in this way was origin-
aiiy auggeated to an ,'ancient philosopher of the name of
Arohimedea. Hiere, tlie king of Syracuse, htn^ put into
the handa of a workman a certain quantity of gold, of which
he waAtomake a orown for him. When the crown was
fiaikhed and given tothe king, he had reason to suspect that
hisigi^d had been adulteraied, and applifnl to Arohimedea
for hb assistance in d^tecli?;^: ^ne impo;)ture.

After many attemplte hr ^h» ^ jrpose, the philosopher
wasjkbautlo abandon t^i^' prcjt^ct nltogr«her, in despair of
beiffg able to accompHah '% w*?rn a fortunate incident oo-
cutrn^ which led to bla ultimate auccesa. Stepping into
the batlione day, aa wwbj!<> cuatoaii he happened t9 ob-

mmvcnwirWA!

wn was
pect th&t
himedes

loiopber
espiir of
dentofr*
ung into
d t« ob^

wrvf I th t Uie water nm w ho flMiMi iMo ^ a»A llMMii
<lid to la pronortion to the bnKk ofliia bodf. Ho immM"
dioioly percoived, that any other body oTlbo een* 4«lk
would hive rtieed the water equally^ bat Ibot ooe of OQMit
weifhti if of leM bulk wouM rot have produeed aofiOolOB
eifoot. To hit diicerpi*><r ih\ad thia auggeated a aoluUon of
the queatioOf which Yi 4.» 1 1. !M:;iakeo toaolfoforthe king ;
and ho waa ao overj^'veri, that ho ia aald to have run into
•the atreet, juat h% the atkiu in which ho had leaped out of
the bath, 03t:ch\ : , .g, *< I have found it oot^ I have ftnodit
out" Ha now got two n^aaeea one of gold and -the other
of ailver, each of equal weight with the .orowoi and 'having
filled a veasel very accurately with water, plunged Into it
firat the ailver masa, and marked the quantity of water which
overflowed, Ne:st he plunged the gold maaa, and found
that a len quantity now overflowed than before. Heaoe
he inferred that, though the maiaea were equal la point of
weight, the bulk of the ailver waa greaier than thaiof tlie
gold. He then plunged the crown into the water, and fouad
thai it displaced more of the fluid than the gold haddone,
and leaa than the ailver, which led him to infer and ropoft
tO'the king, that it waa neither pure gold nor pure ailveri but
a mixture. To aacertain tb? apecific gravity of ifloidi^ te-
conrse ii now generally had to an inatroment called the hy-
drometer.^ Thia inttrument ia ao oonatructed, that /tie
specific gravity of the liquid ia eatimaied by the depth to
which the hydrometer einka in it The filrtber this inttru-
ment si^ka, the liglter is the specific gravity. It ia upon a
nimhr *>rincip!< . hat, in order to aaeertato the atrength of
''';<; \r salting meat, it is not nnconaaon to place an egg
in the water, and continue to pat aal| into it until tho egg
ewim. Water as the standard for miaawement, ia safd to
be 1. When therefore any body, bulk far bulk, is doable
the specific gravity of water, it ia callad % and ao on 10 8
and 4 times, up to 22 times, which iethe specifte gravity of
platinum, the heaviest known sobatanco. Any body of
greater specific gravity than water, wil^ aink oa boiag tiKOwn
into water; but it will float on the surface, if ita spiaeific
gcavity be leas than that of water. Water ia of a gnater

S8i&

IMTftOCTITB RlADftB.

tpaoifio gravUy than BpiriUu A body therefore which wilt
float on water may sink in spirits. Although water hai
thtHi the greatest power of buoying up, it is in ordinary
laiigoage called tcea^; and spirits, the lighter they aroi are
calted the ' lore strong:.

MECHANICAL PROPERTIES IN AIR.

Aeriform fluids differ from liquids principally in respect
of the superior elasticity of the former, which are hence dis-
tinguished by the name of elastic fluids. Atmospheric air
and all the various kinds of gases are of this description.
The mechanical properties of all elastic fluids are the same.
Though the air, by which we are continually surrounded,
and without which we would cease to live, is invisible to
the eye, its presence is sufficiently manifested by its eflecte:.
By the motion of a lady's fan you immediately feel that
you have put it in agitation, by briskly.moving a switch you
hear it sound, in pushing the rammer of a pop-gun, plugged
at the opposite extremity, you feel its resistance ; by im-
mersing a phial under water, you see the bubble which it
forms in making its escape. We are now to consider a few
of its mechanical properties — 1. Air is compressible, that
is to say, may by pressure be made to occupy less room
than in its natural state. Thus, in discharging a pop-gun,
the rammer, in consequence of the compression of the air
in the tube in able to advance a little way before it expels
the plug; and when a wine-glass is immersed with the
mouth downwards in a vessel of water, the water will,
from the same cause, ascend to a small height in the glass.
— 2. Air is remarkably elastic ; that is, after being com-
pressed, it, as soon as the pressure is removed, resumes its
former dimensions. Squeeze a blown bladder, and when-
ever you remove your hand it at once regains its original
bulk. Throw it on the ground, and the elasticity of the air
pent up in it will display itself, by the force with which it
rebounds. — 3. Air, like every other fluid, is heavy, and
ptesses equally in all directions. From the equality of the
prSMore upon all bodiest and upon all parts of the same

IRSTttVCTlTC HVADIR.

■ika

rixxljr, if is not easily felt or perceived •; butwhenevM it is
ptirtially removed from a body, (which is easily done by an
invtrumem called an air pump,) then its effects. A:pon
the other parts of the body are clearly discerned. Thus, if
you completely fill a wine glass with water, and cover it
with a pieoe of paper, then place the palm of your hand
over it, so as to hold it tight and accurately even, you may
afterwards turn it upside down, and remove your hand/rom
the paper, \^thout spilling a single drop of water. Upon
the same principle, take a common tea-cup, and burn some
paper in it by which the air within it will be made to ex-
pand ; invert tho cup in a saucer containing water ; when
the air cools it will return to its former density, and thus
leave within the cup what is called a vacuum, that is to say,
tin empty space containing no air; in- consequence of
which, the pressure of the external air from below will force
up a great portion of the water into the cup to fill up the
void. These instances will be sufiicient to illustrate the
vpward pressure of the air ; its pressure in other respects
can be no less easily shown by means of the air pump. Tn
consequence of the downward pressure} of the atmosphere,
its lower strata are much denser than the higher. The
difference in th's respect is very considerable between the
air at the top of a high mountain, and in the valley be!<JW.
In consequence of the greater density of the atmosphere in
the lower regions, than in tlio higher, it is f;ir better adapted
to the condition of man. The rarity of the air above has
been found productive of great inconvenience to those, who
ascend high mountains or in air balloons, by producing
great difficulty of breathing, bleeding at the nose, &r.^— The
atmospheric air is 800 or 900 times lighter than water; but
from its great height, (being supposed to extend at least 45
miles from the earth,) its pressure upon the earth's surface,
you may believe, is extremely great, and is computed at
fifteen pounds upon every square inch.

COMPONENT PARTS OF ATMOSPHERIC AIR.

Atmospheric air was long regarded as an element, and
still retains the name in ordinary language ; it has, however,

2€^

mSTaUOTlVl RIADBR.

been dearly Bhown to be a compound lubstance. Tkia
discovery we owe to a philosopher of the name otScheeU
(SheeL) It consists or two elastic fluids, called the Ottgbn
and Nitrogen gases, with which are mixed up a small
portion of another gas called carbonic acid, and vapour de-
rived from the evaporation of water from the earth's surface.
The carbonic acid gas, and the vapour, are considered as
having only an accidental connexion with the atmosphere,
and not as essential constitutent parts of it. The air may
therefore be said to bo composed of the oxygen and nitro-
gen gases, of which, rather more than four-fifths are nitro-
gen. These substances are very different from each other
in their qualities. — 1. Oxygen gas, though the smaller in
point of quantity, is by far the more efficacious of the two
ingredients of the atmosphere. It if^^ one of the most gene-
rally diffused and most powerful chemical agents in nature.
It forms an essential component part of both air and water,
and is to be found in almost all animal, vegetable, and
mineral £iib3t&nces. ItU invisible, and has no taste nor
smell ; it is heavier than atmospheric air, being in the pro-
portion of about 123 to 20. It is this ingredient which
gives the atmosphere its two most beneficial powers of sup-
porting animal life and combustion. If the air be deprived
of its oxygen, it is rendered quite unfit to maintain either
respiration or combustion for a single moment. By both of
these processes oxygen is consumed, and hence a frequent
renewal of the air is absolutely necessary to the continuance
of either. When a number of persons meet in a small
room, they soon feel the necessity of admitting fresh air,
and have re-ourse to open windows for this purpose. Up-
wards of 100 individuals on one occasion lost their lives, by
being confined together for a single night at Calcutta, in
consequence of the barbarous order of the Nabob, in a small
apartment known by the name of the black-hole. You
may perhaps be surprised to hear that fish stand no less in
need of oxygen than other animals, in order to support life.
If several of them be confined in a small vessel, from which
all communication with the external air. is excluded, they
first become much agi'ated, and at length expire. If a glass

■,-■'

IN8TRUCTIVB RIADtK.

28 1»

vessel be put over a candle, the light will become gradually
feebler, as the oxygen is consumed, and will at length die
away. It is in consequence of the rapid supply of oxygen,
that a fire burns so much more briskly, when exposed to a
current of air.

II. Nitrogen gas, also known by the name of azotic
gas, which is by far the largest ingredient of the atmosphere
is invisible, and has no taste nor smell. It is lighter than
atmospheric air, being in the proportion of about 97 to 100
It neither supports respiration nor combustion ; so that an
animal immersed in it immediately expires, and a candle
ceases to burn. Were it not for its combination with the
oxygen, the air would be too pure, and, affording too free a
respiration, would, (it is supposed) be more than the lungs
are fit to bear.

The Atmospheric air, which is the result of the com-
biaation of these two gases, possesses the profierties of the
oxygen gas diluted by the nitrogen. It is invisible and has
no taste nor smell. Its specific gravity is little more than 1,
if that of water be accounted 1000. It supports hoth res*
piratioa and combustion. The ingredients of which the
atmosphere is composed, when combined in different pro-
portions, compose substances possessing very different pro-
perties. Thus in one proportion, — viz. 2| volumes of oxy-
gen to I of nitrogen, they compose nitric acid, well known
by the name aqua-fortu, a substance of a very corrosive
and most drndly poisonous nature. In equal volumes the
ingredients form nitric oxide, which is fatal to animal life,
and extinguishes flame. Two volumes of nitrogen and one
of oxygen form nitrous oxide gas^ a substance remarkable
fop its intoxicating qualaties, and hence called intoxicating
gaa, laughing gas, or gas of paradise.

This gas, when inhaled, operates differently upon per-
sons of different constitutions. The sensations produced by
it are in general described as exquisitely pleasing — an irre-
sistible propensity to laughter — a rapid flow of vivid ideas
— ft strong incitement to muscular action — joined to a
singular thrilling in the ears, fingers, and toesi Persons who
inhale this gas, in place of feeling the debility consequent

296

IMSTRVCTIVI RBA0I&.

upon imbibing other intoxicating substances, generalljr de-
scribe themselves as more cheerful and light*spirited during
he whole of the day. j . ,

COMPONENT PARTS OF WATER*

Water, as well as air, has only of late years been known
as a compound body. For this discovery we are indebted
to the labours of Cavendish and Watt, who showed that it
is composed of two gases, Hydrogen and Oxygen, In or-
der to form water, these ingredients are combined in the
proportion of about two volumes of hydrogen gas to one of
oxygen. We have had occasion to notice oxygen in con-
sidering the atmosphere ; we shall now consider the leading
qualities of hydrogen gas. Hydrogen g^s is invisible, and
lias no taste. When quite pure, it has no smell, but when
humid, emits a slight iodour. It is the lightest substance
whcli has ever been weighed, being, when pure, upwards
of a dozen times lighter than the atmosphere. Hence air
balloons used always to be filled with it ; but of late, one
of its coi ounds, called carburretted hydrogen^ (the same
which is now employed for lighting the streets of towns) has
been used for this purpose, because it can be easily had at
gas works. Hydrogen neither supports respiration norcom-
buslion, so that, if an animal or a burning candle be i in mer«
sad in it, the former soon dies and the latter is extinguished.
You will hardly, however, expect to lea*'n, that this sub-
stance, which forms by far the larger ingredient of water, is
itself, by means of oxygen, so highly inflammable, as to have
been originally known by the name of inflammable air. It
kindles when an ignited body is applied to it in contact with
the air ; when mixed with twice its bulk of atmospheric air,
it explodes when kindled *, and if mixed with pure oxygen
gas, in the same proportion, the explosion is still more vio-
lent. Hydrogen is often collected in mines, forming what
is called fire-damp, and, by its awful explosion, proves de-
structive to the miners. Water, which is the result of the
"Combination of the two gases libove mentioned^ it & noii-
elasttc fiuidj colourless, tasteless, i^nd jnodoroqt. ItiaMl*-

INSTRUCTIVE READER.

287

dom to be found entirely pure and free from mixture. The
purest which is to be had, is rain or snow water. Its com-
binations with other substances are very nunieroub, but only
in a small proportion of them does it act v\ ith much energy,
so as materially to alter the qualities of the bodies with
which it combines.*

ON THE AGENCY OV WATER AS CONNECTED WITH HEAT.

Let us now attend a little to the powers and qualities by
which water acts its part, in this system of beings. Wd all
admire its pure transparency In a spring ; the level and po-
lished surface with which it reflects objects that, are on the
banks of a lake; the mobility with which it runs along the
channel of a brook) and the incessant ^notion of its waves in
a stormy sea. But, when viewed with a philosophic eye,
it appears much more an object of aumiration. The same
water which, under its usual form^ is such a principal beauty
in the scene oCinature. is employed in her most extensive
operations, and is p.i^cessary to the formation of all her pro-
ductions. We k;iow that it rises in vapours from the sur-
face of the ocean, to form the clouds, and to descend again
in rain upon the dry land, and give origin to springs, rivers,
and lakes ; or, upon proper occasions, to form deep snow^
which protects the ground and vegetables from thd intense
cold to which some parts of the world are exposed ; and,
after it has performed this useful office, it readily yields to
the heat of summer, and returns to a state in which it serves
the same purposes as rain. By its fluidity and teniuty, it
penetrates the soil, and the seeds of plants, which that soil
contains. These it causes to swell and germinate Into
plants, which depend on water for support. It passes with
freedom and ease through all their minutest tubes and ves-
sels, and carries with it materials necessary for nourishment
and growth, or changes its appearance so as to become part
of the plant. There is no plant or vegetable substance that

* The prcMdinK nctton, though eempilrd fimm vnrhnif icHireHL hat Immi derived ckMj freai
lutruciivt BitraeU, " by the Author oftht EdiahnMb laniMal School Booh*." Bui u tkal
wotk Gontoiu muy rtflirencM sad iliuttntiOM iMnuBablc to tftk eoMMqr, U wm fotwd a»tm'
Mty both mMrtaUy ta oMmt wd abiidgt.

V t

288

INSTRDfqTlVl READER.

doea not contain, in its eompcMition, a large quantity of wa-
ter, easily separable from it. The hardest wood contains a
great deal. The softer and more succulent parts of vcgetB"
bles, are almost totally composed of it. It is plainly as ne-
cessary to the animals, and is found to be as copious an
ingredient in the composition of their bodies, and of all the
difierenl parts of them. These are the numerous and ex-
t^sive uses of this beautiful substance. But in this succes-
cesdion of forms and operations, which it undergoes, you
will perceive that it is set in motion and adapted to ^these
eriL^; hy the nice adjustment and gentle vidssitudes of heat
and ct'>(d; which attend the returns of day and night, ami
summer ar>d winter; and that even the form, under which
it plays its part, depends on the action of heat. Were our
heat to be diminishecj^ and to continue diminished a degree
not very far below the ordinary temperature, the water
would loose Its fluidiif « and assume the form of a solid hard
body, totally unfit for Che numerous purposes, vyhich it
serves at present. And if (he dimit'3Ution«of heat were to
go still farther, the air itself would losa its elasticity, and
would be frozen to a solid useless nmtter, like the water ;
and thus all nature would become a lifeless, silent, and dis-
mal ruin. Suoh being the important part allotted to water,
in the magnificent series of natural operations, In cohse-
quence of the qualities communicated to it by heat,
^11 its properties become interesting objects of cootem-
m»ation to a sensible heart. On the other hand, were the
hea^ which at present cherishes and ■cffnivens this globe,
alloitded to encrease beyond the bounds at present prescribed
to it, besides the destruction of all animal and vegetable life,
which would be the immediate and inevitable consequence,
the water ivould lose its present form, and assume that of an
elastic vapoiiT like air ; the solid parts of tne globe would
be melted ancf confounded together, or mixed with the aii
and water in sr^pke and vapour, and nature would return U
the original chao^

Black.

■\

INSTRUGTIVB RB£H»1. 289

A BRIEV OUTLINE OF THE BRiriSH CONSTITUTION.

The Government of the United Kingdom of Great Britain
is constitutional, or possesses a regular form, in which the
civil rights of all classes is acknowledged and guaranteed.
The constitution is a monarchy, in which the Sovereign ac-
cepts of his dignity under an express agreement to abide by
certain prescribed forms of government according to the
laws of the realm, and to maintain inviolate the Protestant
religion, with all the rights and privileges of the church.

The executive or regal office is, on certain conditions,
hereditary in the family of Brunswick, now on the throne,
and in the person of either a male or a female ; but the right
of inheritance may be changed or limited by act of parlia-
ment. "Although the Sovereign," says Lord Bacon, "is
the fountain of justice, and is entrusted with the whole
executive power of the law, yet he hath no power to change
or alter the laws which have been received and established
in these kingdoms, and are the birthright of every subject ;
for it is by those very laws that he is to govern." The King
owns no superior but God in the laws ; it is a maxim of the
constitution, that the King in his political capacity can do
no wrongi because he acts only by officers responsible to
the law. If an unlawful act is done, the minister instru.
mental in that act is alone obnoxious to punishment. The
King never dies ; that is, the executive authority ne«^er
ceases to exist. Besides enforcing the laws of the realm,
through the medium of courts of justice, and a variety of
functionaries, the Sovereign is charged with the office of
levying taxes granted for the public service, and of defend-
ing the empire at home or abroad against foreign enemies.
He has the power of coining money, but he cannot alter the
standard. Ue is the sole representative of his people with
foreign states, having the power of sending ambassadors,
concluding treaties and alliances, declaring war or conclud-
ing peace. He has the duty of protecting the persons and
trade of British subjects, in foreign countries. For this pur-
pose be has the sole appointment of the officers who perforni
these duties 5 of judges in the several courts of law ; of

S90

INfTRUOTIVI RIAOBR.

officers in the armj and navy ; of public ambassadora, and
of consuls at foreign ports for the safety of trade ; and of
the officers who levy the taxes. The King or Queen (with
reference to our present Sovereign) is the fountain of mercy ;
she alone can pardon all public offences, either absolutely
or conditionally^ and of honour, as the constitution has in-
trusted her with the sole power of confering titles, dignities,
and honours. As first magistrate of a great and free people,
the sovereign is invested with many other marks of regal
dignity and pre-eminence, all intended by the constitutioo
to be employed for the good of the people.

The task of managing all these extensive concerns, which
would fall into confusion in the hands of one person, is de«
puted by the Queen to a number of persons,who are denomi-
nated he^r Ministers, and sometimes the Cabinet, They
are nominally selected and appointed by the Queen herself ;
but as her choice would be in vain if it were to fall on
men who were disagreeable to Parlia.nnent (which might
in that case refuse to grant supplies for national business,)
the ministry is generally chosen from among such men as
enjoy a considerable share of public confidence. They have
all some high state office. JL^

The Legislative part oftne government is composed of
two deliberative bodies — the House of Lords and the House
of Commons, both of which consist of individuals belonging
to the United Kingdom only, the colonial dependencies of
the empire having no share in the general government.

House of Lords. — The persons who compose the House
of Lords form a separate class or rank, which is called col-
lectively the Peerage, and whose members enjoy certain
Privileges and honours. The members of the House of
rords are either lords spir'ual or temporal. The spiritual
lords are archbishops and bishops, and hold their seats in
virtue of their office ; the temporal lords enjoy their seats
from hereditary right, or in virtue of being elevated to the
peerage. In 1837, at the meeting of the first Parliament of
Queen Victoria, the number of members of the House of
Lords was 64>1. The House of Lords is liable at all times
to an increase of numbers by the elevation of commoners to

imstHuotivi riabbii.

291

the peerage ; but this prerogative of the erown is iparingly
used.

The House of Commons consists of 658 members ; of
whom 253 are chosen by counties, 6 by universities, and
339 by cities, boroughs, and towns. England returns 471,
Wales 29, Ireland 105, and Scotland 53. The groat bulk
of voters as settled by the reform acts of 1832, is composed
of the agricultural tenantry and the occupants of houses of
£10 of yearly rent ; in. other words, the middle classes. A
House of Commons cannot legally exist for more than seven
years ; but, in reality, it rarely exists ko long, the death of
the sovereign, change of ministry, and other circumstances,
causing a renewal on an average every three or four years.
Though delegated by particular places, they are bound as
members of parliament to act for the general good of the
country. Their principle duties are to check and reform
abuses of the administration — to redress public and private
grievances — to watch over the public expenditure — to en-
force by their power of enquiry and impeachment a pure ad-
ministration of justice in alt departments — to asist in fram-
ing wise laws — and, finally, to preserve and promote, by
every constitutional means, the freedom and prosperity of
the great body of the people. The powers and privileges of
this part of the legislature are commensurate to its great im-
portance in the government. The Commons possess the
sinews of war ; they are the keepers of the public purse ;
all grants, subsidies, and taxes, must originate with them ;
for it is a constitutional maxim, that taxation and represen-
tation go hand in hand ; and that the people only have a
right to tax themselves. They have a strong control over
the executive, having it in their power, whenever they are
dissatisfied with the measures of government, to stop the
supplies of money, and bring the whole machinery to a
stand. No act of the two deliberative bodies becomes va-
lid as a law, without the assent of the Sovereign. Though
new laws may be proposed by any Member of either House,
the consent of all the three constituent parts is thus neces-
sary to make them binding on a subject : and though any
part of the legislature may, by withholding its consent, pre-

S9S

inmUOTlVI AIADIB.

▼tut the enactment oft law, it requirea the agreement of ail |
the three to repeal an exiiting statute.

** Thus," as observed by Blackstone, *' the true excellence I
of the British government consists in all its parts forming a
mutual rheck on each other. The Legislature cannot
abridge the executive power of any rights it now has by
law, without its own consent. The people are a check {
upon the nobility, and the nobility are a check upon the
people, by tho mutual privilege of rejecting what the other I
has resolved; while the monarch is a check upon bolh;|
which preserves the executive power from encroachment.
And this very executive power is again checked and kept!
within due bounds by the two Houses, through the privilege
they have of enquiring into, impeaching, and punishing the
conduct, not indeed of the king, (which would destroy his
constitutional independence,) but, which is more beneficial
to the public, of his evil and pernicious counsellors. The
same laws that secure to the king his crown and prerogative.!
secures to the meanest subject those rights which are em-
phatically styled the birthright of Britons. These are prin-j
cipally the right of personal «ecun7y, of personal liberty j and|
of private property .^^

Constitution of Canada. — Since Canada wasconqueredl
by the arms of Britain in 1759, and permanently annexed to
the empire, it has been under various modes of government.
Without particularly tracing its history in this respect withi
regard to the past, it will be sufficient to observe, that duringl
the ministry of Mr. Pitt in 1784*, a desire long increasing!
was now strongly expressed, of obtaining a representative!
government. This boon was granted in 1790, on a basis!
neariy resembling that of the British Constitution. So much |
so indeed that it has been often said in the words of Gover-
nor Simcoe to be " the image and transcript of it." Withinl
the last four years, such changes have been introduced intol
the practical working of the representative system, as to as-|
similate it still more neariy to that of the mother country.
To remove the political disorders, which had for manyl
years existed, << it needs," said Lord Durham, **but to followl
out consistently the great principles of the British constitu-|

INITRVOTIVB RIADIRf

S93

leRiofall

Kcellencel
forming a1
e cannot)
r has by I

a check
upon the'
; the other 1
pon both "J
oachment.l

and kepti
le privilege I
jishing the!
destroy hisl
) beneficial I
Uore. The]
prerogative,
ch are em-;
se are prin-j
libertyi and

tloDi and introduce into the Qovernment those 'wise provi-
sions, by which alone the working of the Representative sys-
tem can in any country be rendered harmonious and effi-
cient.*' In like manner the House of Assembly declared, in a
resolution passed in 1841, "that the Head of the Execu-
tive Government of the Province^ being within the limits of
His Government, the representative of the Sovereign, is re-
sponsible to the Imperial authority alone, but, that neverthe-
less the management of our local aflaira can only be con-
ducted by him by and with the assistance, counsel, and in-
formation of subordinate officers in the Province.

<<That in order to preserve between the different branches
of the Provincial Parliament that harmony which is essen-
tial to ihe peace, welfare, and good government of the Pro-
vince, the chief advisers of the Representative of the Sove-
reign, constituting a Provincial administration under him,
ought to be men possessed of the confidence of the Repre-
sentatives of the people, thus affording a guarantee that the
well understood wishes and interests of the people, will on
all occasions be faithfully represented and advocated."

The Legislature of Canada consists of two bodies, the
Legislative Council,the members of which are elected by the
Governor, and exercise the functions of a House of Lords
in Great Britain. This body has power to alter, and even
to reject bills sent up from the lower House : they can also
originate bills which, however, must pass the ordeal of the
other body, the House of Assembly. The latter body cor-
responds to the British House of Commons, and is elected
by the Province upon a moderate freehold qualification.

The course of Justice in criminal concerns is founded
upon the equitable principles of the law of England.

APPENDIX.

PREFIXES, APFIXE8, AMD PRINCIPAL LATIN AND ORBIK
ROOTS OF THE ENGLISH LAKGUAGB.

TV ht ecmmittei to Memorf,

I. PREFIXES.

1. OF SMGLISU OR SAXON ORIGIN.

A} on or in, as a-foot, a>bed.

Be, about, as ftesprinkle ; also
jfor or before, as bespeak.
En, in or on, as encircle ;
also make, as enfeeble. (En
is changed into em in roots
beginning with b oc p, as
embark, empower.)

Fore, before, bb foresee.

Mis, error or defect, as mis-
deed.

Out, beyond, or superiority ^

^ as OK^run.

Over, above, or excess, as
overcharge.

Un, before an adjective or ad-
verb, signifies not, as un-
worthy, un, before a verb,
signifies the undoing of the
act expressed by the verb,
as enfetter.

Up, motion upwards, as up-
start; ali^o subversion, as
tioset.

With, from or against, as
tot'Mdraw, v^'Mstand.

2. OF LATIN ORIGIN.

A, ab, abs, /rom or aiooy, as
avert, absisAn,

Ad, fo, as adhere. Ad, as-
sumes the various forms of
a» ac, of, ag, al, an, ap,

ar, as, at, as ascend, oc- j
cede, a/fix aggressor, aU
liance &c
Am, rounds about^ as atn-
bient.

295

Ante, hefcfe^ as ofKecedent.

Circuin,(circo>) aboQt, rouiK/,
M ctreumjfcent, circuit.

Cit, on this lide, as Ciial-
pine.

Con, ^oget^erf as convoke.
Or under the forms of co,
cog, col, com, cor, as co-
operate, coflect &c.

Contra, againhty as ctnira-
diet. Also as counter, as
counterbalance.

Pc,/ro7n, or down, as {/eject-
ed.

Di, dis, (dif) asunder , as dit-
tract, diffuse. Also nega-
tion, or undoingjW disarm,

£e, ex, (ec, ef,) out of, as
fgress, eccentric, e/flux.

Extra, without, beyond, as
co^/ravagant.

I"} (>g) ii} em, im, ir,) notj
before an adjective, as tn-
active ; before a verb, it
signifies in or into, as in-
ject, imbibe ; In also de-
notes privation or nega-
tion, as insipid, ignorant.

Inter, between or among, as
intervene.

Intro, (for intru,) within ; as
introduce.

Juxta, m'^A /o, MJuxtapo-
sition.

Ob, (oc, of, 0, op, OS,) tn /A«
way of, or oppotitiim, as
object, occur, o/feodi (y»*
pose &c.

Per, through or thoroughly^
as /perforate. (?er has also
the form oipel, as|>e2lucid.

Post, after, as />o«^svript.

Pre, before, as /^recede /wv-
dict.

Preter, pait, or beyond, as
j9re/crnatura1.

Fro, for, forth, as />ronoun,
proceed.

Re, 6acA; or again, as retract.

Retro, backwoods, as rc/ro-
spect.

Se, astVc or opar^, as accede.

Sine, without, as «tnecuro.
Or in the forms of sim, and
sin, as simple, sincere.

Sub, (sue, Suf, SUg, sup, BUS,)

under, as su6vert,succeed,

suf i'une, &c.
Subter, tinder or beneath, as

subterfuge.
Super, a&ove or over, as s«-

jD>ervisor. ( Super takes also

the French form sur,) as

sttrmount.
Trans, (tra J over, beyond^ ai

transport*
Ultra, beyond, as i«//romun-

dane. ■»

3. OF GREEK ORIGIN.

A or an, without, not, as

apathy, anarchy.
Amphi, both or the two, as

ompAibious; Also aboutt

as in ampAitbeatre.
Ana, through orvp, as ana*
tomy.

299

Anti, (ant,) againati as Jinti'

Christ J an/arctic.
Apo, /rom, away, as oposta-

cy.
Dia, tnrougkt a9 cb'ameter.
£pi, f^n (ep, eph) as ^j9t-

demic, epAemera.
Hypeff over anc? a&ove, too

as hyperctiiic^X*
Hypo, M»(/er, as hypoihtAn,
M«ta| change^ (met,) as me-

toroorphosis, mefhod*
Para, near to, or «td(e ^ «' (f^

as if for the purpo&t of

comparison^ as jvurallel $

(^para takes also the form

otpar) as j»arody.
Peri, roundf about^ m peri'

phrasis.
Syn, together^ as Aynthesis,

(«y, «y/, «ym, as fy/logism,

sympathy.

i«fc-.

11. AFFIXES.

An ^

' as Comedian

Ant or ent

Assistant, Student

Liar

Ard .

Drunkarii

Ary

■

Adversary

Eer

' an agent, or om

Ghariot«er

£r

who does a thing

Builder

Ist

Psalmuf

Ive

Representative

Governor

Ster

L Game«/er

denotes the jwr«o»

»•

Ate

acted upotiy and

as Delegate

£e

equivalent to the^

Trustee

Ite

passive termina-

Favourt/e

tion ed

Acy

'as Lunacy

Age

Parentage

Ance

denoting quality or

Vigilance

Ancy

state of t)eing

Brilliancy

Ence

Adberencs

t-ntJj

Consistency

297

Hood
Ion

M Boyhood
CohestoH

Ism

Herotsm

Mont

Abasement

Mony

Acrimony

Ness

denoting quality or

Bal.dn«M

% > state of being ^

Rivalry

Ship

LorAship
WarmM

Tude

Sety'xtude

Ty or ity

Pover/y, brevity

Ure.

Lpgislature

Mastery

Dom

denoting jurisdic- \ as "KSrsgdom

Ric

Hon \\ Bishopric

Cle

\ as Corpusc/g <»

Kin

terminations 1 Lannb^in
' meaning little \ Stream/e^

Let

Ling

1 'DxkcVUng

Ock
Ac

1 m\ock

' as Elegiac

Autumna/

Sylvan

Polar

Ary
£n

^off or pertaining
to

Parliamentary
Golden

Ic or ical

Ange/tc or Angelica/

lufanti/c

Ine

Infantine

Ory

Olfactory

Ate

C as AfTectiono/e

Fill

1 Care/«/

One

denoting full of,) Verbose
[ QT abundance ) Zesiloua

Ous

SoB)e

To'iUome

f Flowery

Tsh ;

1 r as Childt'M

K denoting likeness I Godlike

Ly !

r r

[ Man/y

298

Ate 7 C as Perpetua/c

En J I Harden

Fy > denoting to tnake^ Puri/y

Ith I I Stablt'M

Ise or Tze 3 ' L Modernt«e, civiltM

Escent denoting /)ro^«5«f on, as Cohvsilescent

Ly /tA:e in quality, asTru/y

Ward in the direction of^ as Downward

III. LATIN ROOTS,

WITH EXAMPLES OF THEIR ENGLISH DERIVATIVES.

Root and Meaaing. Ezamplei of DerivativM.*

Arris, sharp as «^mmony, sharpnep**^ •^cid

Aciin, I sharpen, acutue>, Acute, sharp, pointed Acu-

sharpened
Aemuhis, vying with

Aeqiius, equal

Adr, air

Aestimo, I value

Ager, agri, a field

Ago, 1 do, actus, done

Aitufl, high

men

JSmu/ation, desire of excel-
lence

£^ualize, tc make even,
Equinox

«^erial, belonging to the air,
[Etherial]

Esteem^ high regard, estim-
ate

w^grarian, relating to fields,
agriculture

^gent, a doer, aet'miy,
transact

Exalt, to raise on high, aHi-

tude
Amo, or amor, I love, aoia- •Amiable, lovely amorous,

tufl, loved amity

Amplus, large AmpMy to enlarge, am,pl9

Angulus, a corner .^n^iar, having corners,

rectangle

• n« JCmk, h wfll b« okiarMa, ti NpNiMlal by the lltalie etaracNrt to tU OtrlfMiv*
f M ika wit of bnvttj, th« BMuioK ofvaly m« Xn(liiti tarn it (ivta

299

Hoot Ukd Mccalag.

Animus, anima, mind soul as

Annus, a year

Apto, I fit or join
Aqua, water

Arbiter, a judge or umpire
Arbor, a tree

Ardeo, I drive away (erceo

when compounded)
Ardeo, I burn, arsus, burnt
Arguo, I argue
Arma, arms,
Ars, artis, art
Asper, rough

Audio, I bear, auditus heard,
Augeo, I increase, auctus,

increased
Augur, auspex, auspices, a

soothsayer
Barba, a beard,

Beatus,, blessed

Barbarus, rude, savage
Bellum, war

Bellus, beautiful
Bene, well
Bibo, I drink

Bis, twice

Brevis, short

Cado, 1 fall, casus, fallen
(cido when compounded)

Zuunplti or DfrivatlrM.

Unammous, of one mind,

aTtmosity
'Annu9\y happening yearly,

annals
•Aptness, fitness, adr7;9/Blion
•^^ueous, water, aquatic
^rdttrate, to decidc,flr6//rary
Jirbor, a bower of trees, ar-
boraceous
Coercion, forcible restraint,

exercise
Jirdenx, burning, or^on
•Argument, a reason offered
ArmYi armed men, armistice
^r^ful, done with art, inert
.^5j9erity,rougliness, exasper'

ate
AudiioTf a hearer atie^tenco
•Augment, an increase, auc-
tion, auMor
Augury, an omen, auspic-

ious
Barber, one who shaves the

beard
Beautiiudef blessedness, bea^

f/fic
i?ar6arous, cruel
Belligerent, waging war, re-

bel
Em&e//ish, to beautify
benefit, advantage
Imbibe to drink in, wine bib*

ber
J7tped, an animal with two

feet
Brevity, 8hortnes8,ab^et;iate
Cofvalty, accident, decay

300

Root Md Mtu>in|(,

Caedo, I cut, caeaus, cut, as

(ado & cistui in compMs)
Calx, calcis, chalk, lime,
Canis a dog,

Capillus, hair

Capio, I take, captus, taken

[cipio, ceptus, in comp.]
Caput, capitis, the head
Cavus, hollow
Causa, a cause
Cedo, I give place, cessio, a

giving place to
Celar, swift

Celias, a cellar
Cerlus, certain
Cbarta, paper

Cio, I call, I summon

Circus, a circle

Classis, a class

Claudo, I shut, clausus,

shut, [cludo, clusus in

compounds]
Clino, I bend

Colo, I cultivate, cultus, cul-
tivated
Cor, cordis, the heart
Corona, a crown

Corpus, corporis, the body

Cras, to-morrow , *

Cred->, 1 trust

XiampUi of Dcrif ativw.

Excifion, a cutting out, ho-
rn ia'c/e
Ca/careous, chalky, calcine
Canine having the properties

of a dog
Capilhry, resembling hair
Capable, able to do or take

Capiialf chief, decop/^ate
Concave, hollow, excavate
Causation, the act of causing
"Recedef to go back,succemon

Crimen

chai^

Crux, <

Culpa,
fault

Cura, c

Curro, '.
ning

Damno

Decern,
Dens, d

Cg/cnty, swiftness, accc/cr-

ate

■ Densus,

Ce//ttlar, full of cells

I Deus, a

Certify, to make sure

Charter, any writing bestow-

1 Dico,I

ing privileges

I Dies, a

Ci'/ation, & summons, exctVe

I Dignus,

Circuit, extent round about

I Doceo,

CZassify,to arrange in classes

m Domini

Exc/uJe to shut out, clause

Domus

'Recline, to lie down, inc/m-

Donum

ation

Duca,

Culture, tillage, agricuZ/ure

Ebrius,

Cordis}, hftarty, con corrf

Coronation, the solemnity of

£mo, I

crowning

Corporo], relating to the

Emulu

body, corpse

Erro, I

Procrastinate, to delay to put

off

Faber,

Credit, trust, reputation, cre-

Fades

dible ,

Facilifl

301

Root ui4 Mtuii^ XaaliplM of DwivatttM.

Crimen,crimini8, a crime^ a as Criminal, guilty of a crime

charge
Crux, crucis, a cross Crucify, to put to death on

a cross
Culpa, a fault, culpo, I find Culpable, faulty, culprii

fault

Cura, care, business
Curro, I run, cursus, a run-
ning
Damno, I condemn

Decern, ten

Dens, dentis, a tooth

Densus, thick
Deus, a god

Dico, I say, dictus said
Dies, a day
DignuB, worthy

Accurate, done with care
Current, passing, exciir«ion

Damnable, deserving con-

demnatioD
Decimal, numbered by tens

December
Dent My a tooth> doctor, den-

<ifrice
DensUy^ closeness, condense,
DeKy, to make a god of,

Deity
Dec/ion, language ipredict
Diary, a daily account, diii
Dignhvy honor c/ignitary
Doceo, Iteach,doGtuB,taughi Docile, teachable, doctrine
Dominus, a master Dominion, supreme rule, do-

mineer
Domus, a house, or home Domicile, a habitation, dam-

estic
Donum, a gift, donor, a giver Donation, a gift
Duca, I lead, ductus, led Conduct^ to lead, induce,

aquet/uct
Ebrius, drunken Ebrieiyy drunkenness, ine^t-

al8
Emo, I boy, emptus, bought "Redeem, to buy b8ck,exem|)-

/ion
Emutus, a rival Emuhiiort, rivalry, emulous

Erro, I wander Err, to mistake, erratic,

nberradon
Faber, a workman Fabricate, to build, fabric

Facies, the face Surface, super^cie^, outside

Facilis, easy Di|y*cu/iy, hardness, /aci7i-

a2 tate

302

, ilooludMtMiiag.' KiuiplM or DtrivativM, .

Facio, I make„fiotuS| made as Factory, a work-place, per-|
[ ficio and fectus when fect^ de/?ctent

Pro/*are, to pollute /anatic
Febrile, constituting fever,

/et;erish
Trans/ffr, to convey, ferry
Fervent, hot efjfervfsce
F«fl?elity, honesty, coi\fide
Feli^\ bearing the character

of a son

compounded]
Fanum, a temple
Febris, a fever

Fero, I bear or carry

Ferveo, I t^il

Fido, I trust

Filia, a daughter

Filius, a son

Fingo, I feign or form, fictus Ftcfion, the act of feigning,

formed /foment

Finisi an end Ftnish, to end,/tnal, de/nite

Fiscur^ a money bag, the ex- Ft'^cle, revenue conjl»«cate

chequer
Flatus, a puff of wind F/atvlent, windy in^ation

Flecto, I bend, flexus, bent F/ea?ible, pliant, veUeci
Fligo, I beat, or dash, fltctus, Aiftict^ to give pain,con^tc/

dashed
Fluctus, a wave F/uduate, to move back-

wards and forwards
Fori, fortis, chance Fortuitous, accidental, for-

tune
Frango, I break, fractus. Fragment, a broken part,

broken, fringo,when com- fractme

pounded
Frater, a brother

Fraus, deceit

Fugio, I flee, fugitus, fled

Fumus, smoke

Fundo, I pour out, fusus, Fuse, to melt, ef/t/^ton, re-
poured out fund

Fvindus, the bottom of any- Ttofoundy deep/unc/amental
thing

GelU) frost, ice Congeal^ to freeze, gehim'

ous

Fra/emal, brotherly, /r«/rt-

cide
Frave/ulent, deceitful, de-

fraud
Fugitive^ a runaway, vefuge

Buhterfuge
Fuffltgate, to smoke,per/«»i«

Gigno, I
gotten
I Gradior,
gressus

Gramen,

Grex, gre
Gratia, fs
Gravis, h

Habeo, I
bitus,

Haereo,
stuck

Halo, I

Homo, 8

Hospes,
guest
Hostis, i
Humus,

Idem, it
Ignis, fi
Imago,

Index,
Insula,

Iter, iti
Itum,
Jaceo,

Jactufi
con

Judex

303

Gigno, I beget, gehitU8|be- cm Generate, to beget, progsnj

gotten
I Gradior, I go, gradue, a step, Digress^ to wander, gracfoal,

gressus, gone pro^eM

Gramen, graminis, gram Graminiverom, feeding on

Grez, gregis, a flock
Gratia, favour
Gravis, heavy, grievous

grass
Gregarious, going in flocki,

cong»'eg'ation ^
Gra^itous, granftd without

merit, grace
Gravity, weight, seriousness,
grtef
Habeo, I have or hold, ha- Habit^ custom, exhibit, in*

bitus, had habit

Haereo, I stick, haesus, AdAere to stick, coAe«ion

stuck
Halo, I breathe ExAa/e, to breath out

Homo, a man JETomtcide, manslaughter, hu'

man
Hospes, hospitis, a host or J7o«pt7able kind to visitors,

hotel
Hostile, adverse, cpposite
Inhume, to bury, postAvm-

ous, humble
/^/entity, sameness
/^iite,to set on fire,t^ttion
Imagine, to fancy, imagin'

ation
Indicate, to show, index
Insvhr, belonging to an is-
land, peninsula
J/tnerant, wandering
ExtY, a going out transtf,
Ad/acent, that which lies
next another
Jactus, thrown [jectus when Inject, to throw in, eject

compounded]
Judex, j udicis, a j udge Judicid], belonging to public

justice

guest
Hostis, an enemy
Humus, the ground

Idem, the same

Ignis, fine

Imago, imaginis, an image

Index, a pointer
Insula, an island

Iter, itineris, a journey
Itum, to go
Jaceo, I lie

JuguiB, a yoke
JurO| I owear

J1M9 juris, right, lave
JuvSniiB, a youth

1«I1><M of OMt«tli«M

•8 Con;ti^ate, to join, conjugal
Conjure^ to summon in a

sacred manner
In;ure,to hurt without justice
Juvenile, youthful
Labor, I slip or slide, lapsus, Lapse^ to slide, relapse

slipped
Latus, widely Dilate, to widen, /a/ituda

Lego, I gather or choose, lee- Co] lect, to gather, dMege^ coi-
tus, gathered Uct
Levis, light, levo I lighten, Levity, lightness, e/evate, e/-

I lift up evate

Lex, legis, a law Le^l,belonging to law, lexi"

cograplier
Liber, a book Lsoraryta collection of books

Liber, free Libeny, freedom, liber?\

Libra, a balance L/^rate, to poise or balance,

equi^i^num
LigO| I bind Oh/t«^e, to bind, /i^ament

Lingttfo, I leave, relictus, left Re/zn^uish, to leave, relict
LitSra, a letter Lt7erature, learning, ob/t/er-

ate
Iiocus, a place Local, relating to place, loco^

motion
Longus, long Long*! lude, length, e/ongate

Loqui, to speak La^uacity^talkativeness, e/o'

Lucrum, gain Lucre, gain, /ucrative

Ludo, I play, lusus, played Lue/icrous, merry, il/u^ion

Luna, the moon

Luo, I wash
LuUis/ washed
Lustro, I purify, I shine
Lux, lucis, light
MtfljL wickedly

Malleuii, a hammer

Lunatic, having the imagin-
ation influenced oy the
moon

Ab/ufion, a washing, di/«/e

Lmtre, brightness, il/««/rate
Lucid, clear, /ucifer
Jl/a/evolent, ill disposed,

ffla/efactor
Mallet, a wooden hammer,

fRa//eabIo

, 3105

Root >aa Meaning KtuifHu •tlhiinavm

Mandoj I bid or send away} as Jtfanc/ate, an order, com-

mand
Maneo, I stay, mansus, staid Remam, to stay, mansion
Manus, a hand JIfanual, performed by the

hand
Mare, the sea Jtfarine,belonging to the sea,

maritime
Mater, matris, a mother Jlfafemal, motherly, matri'

cide
Medeor, medico, I heal Remec/y, a cure, medidne

Merge, I plunge, mersus, Immerse, to put under water

plunged
Merx, mercis, merchandise Commerce,traffic,comin^oial
Meteor, I measure, mensua, Jlfe/e, to measure, men«ura-

measured
Miles, militis, a soldier
Minister, a servant

Minor, less
Miror, I gaze

tion
MiliUry, warlike, mt'/t'Mot
Mini&Uy^ service, admtnt<-

ter
Jlftnority, the smaller num-
ber
AdmtVe, to regard with won-
der f rror
Misceo, I mix,mistus or mix- Mm?, to mingle, pro»ii«C4<ous

tus, mixed
Miser,wretched JIfiMrable, wretched, com-

miserate
Mitto, I send, missus, sent RemtV, to relax. m^Mion
Modus, a measure Mode^ manner mo(/e),moc^ify

Mors, mortis, death Jlfortal, subject to death,

mor/ify
Moveo, I move, motus, mov- Immoveable, unshaken, re-
ed molt
Munus, muneris, a gift, an Jlfitn/ficence, liberality, re-
office mvnerato
Muto, I change JIfu/able, changeable
Natus, born Innate, born with us, fl«^I
Navis, a ship JVatnl, belonging to ibhips,

nai>y
N&cto, 1 tie, nexus, tied Gonn«cf, to unite, ahMs

Noceo,! hurt, nocensyburiful JVoviovi, hurtfoly innoicini

306

KmI ud llMiilag lumplti (if Derivftthret

Nof00|llearn,notu8| known as iVio/ify, to inforai, recognt-

NoX) noctiS) night
Nubo^ I marry, nuptus, mar-
ried
Nuncio^ I tell

OciUiM, the eje

Odium, hatred
Oleo, I smell| I grow

Omnia, all

OniMi onSria, a burden

Opus, opfiria, a work
OfdO| ordinisi order

Oro, I pray, I beg
Os, orla the mouth

iVbc/urnal, nightly, equinoa;
iVti/)/iali| marriage, connu*

^ial
Renounere, to diiown, an-
nunciation
Ocu/ar, known by the eye,

ocu/ist
OdioWf hateful, odium
O/factory, having the aenie

of smell
Omh/potent, all-powerful
Onerous, burdensome ex-
onerate
Operate, to act, operation
Orcfain, to appoint, subor-
c/mate

Orison, a prayer, oration
Oral, spoken, not written,
adoration

Oscillum, a moving back* OscilUte, to move back-
wards and forwards wards, &c.
PactUB, having bargained Compacti a bargain
Paodo, I spread, pasaus, or Expane/, to stretch out, com-

pansus, spread pass

Par, equal or like Parity, equality

Pater, patris, a father Pafernal, fatherly,patrimon y

Patior, I suffer, passus, hav- Patient calm under suffering,

ing suffered passive

Pax, pacis, peace Pacific, peacemaking, peace

Pello, I drive away, pulsus, £xj9e/, to drive out, tepuls-

driven ion

Pendeo, I hang, pendo, I Penaant, hanging, jt>en<fulum

wei^, pensuB, hung
Pbne, almost Peninsula, almost an island

Pecior, I try, peritus, skilled Exj^ertment, a trial, expert
Pea, pedis, the foot Biped^ having two feet, ped-

t«p. estal

Ptto, I aeak| p0titu% lought Pelttion,requeBtycomj9ert7ion

back-

307

Root and Mtanlaf XiamplM of Dtrivatlv«i

Fiogo, I paint| pictus^painU as P/cture, a painting, ilepict,

ed paint

Places, I please P/acid, quiet, /^/acidity

Flaudo, 1 praise, plausus, P/audit, applause, app/auJ

praised

Pleo, I fill, pletus, filled Supply f to fill up, coinj>/c/e

Plico, plecto, I fold or twist, CompteXf entangled, cono-

plexus, twisted plicated

Polio, I polish, politus, po- Polite, elegant

lished

Pono, I place, posTtus, placed Pofi^ion, place, impost

Porto, I carry, porta, a gate Porta\, a gate, export

Praeda, plunder Prec/atory, plundering, de-

predaiion

Prehendo, I take, prehensus, Axiprehend, to sieze upon

taken

Premo, I press, pressus, pres- Impress, to fix deep, depreis

sed

Pudens, bashful Jmpudentf shameless

Pungo, I prick or sting, pun&* Pundure, a hole pierced,

tU8, pricked pungent

Puto, I lop, I think, putatus, Amj9u/ate, to cut off, com-

thought pute

Quaero, I ask, quaesitus. Inquire, ask, query , request

sought

Quatio,! shake,quassus, sha- ConcuMion, shaking, quash
ken, cussus when com-
pounded

Quies, rest, ease Quiets repose, quietutle

Badius, a ray Radianty enutting rays, ray

Radix, radiois Radical, primitive, erac?/cate

Rapio, I seise, carry off by JRaj^acious, plundering rap-

force, raptus, seized ine

Raaus, scraped Erase, to rub out, rasor,

rase

Rego, I rule, rectus, ruled Regent, a.ruler, rector, reg'

islpr

Rideo, I laugh at, risus, Deride, to laugh at rt«ible
laughed at

308

Root and Maanlni Exunplti of DcrtviUvti

Rodo, I gnaw, rosu8,gnawccl as Corroc/e, to eat away gradu*

ally
Rogo, I ask, rogatus, asked Inierogadonf a question
Rumpo, I break, ruptus, bro- RupturOf a breach, bank*

ken rupt

Sacer, sacred iS'acrifice, ofTering to God|

consecrate
Salio, I leap, saltus, leaped Salien\f leaping) Msaultf in-

(scilio, & sultus in com- 8uU

pounds)
SalvuB, safe, salus, salutis. Salutary, healthful, aahn"

health, safety tion

Sapio, I taste, [sipio when Insip'ii}, tasteless, sapid

compounded]
Scribo, I write, scriptus, Inscribef to write upon,«crip-

written ture

Seco, I cut, sectufl, cut iS'egment, a cutting, d'lasect

Semen, seminis, seed SeminsLry, a seed-bed, a

school
Senex, sen is, old Semoniyy priority of birth,

senate
Sentio, I perceive or feel, iS'enfation, perception, senti-

sensus, felt ment

Sequor, I follow, secutus, Subsequent, following, per-

having followed secute

Sero, I connect, sertus, con- Asser/, to afiirm, series, in-

nected serf

Servo, I preserve Observe, to watch, conserve

Signum a mark, signo, I Besigrmie, to mark out,

mark signify

Sisto, I stop, (also sto, I Destst, to stop, s/a/ion

stand, status, stood)
Solvo, I loose, solutus, loosed Dissolve, to looben solub]e
. Sparsus, spread, or sprinkled, Disjoerse, to 6catter,a«/7ersion

[spersus when com|<d.]
Specio, I Eee, spectus, seen 8pectsic]e^ a sight
Spero, I hope Despair, to despond, desper-

ate
Spiro, I breathe Resj^/ration, breathing, ex-

pire

809

KMt m4 llMainf KiaaplM AflHilnMivM

Spolio, I plunder, spoiiatut, as SpoliaWonf the act of rob-

plandered bery, de§poil

Spondee, I promise, sponaus Re«/7on«e, an answer, ipomor

promised
Statuo, I set up or appoint| Statue^ a law, ttalutef con-

statutus, appointed stitute

Stino, I fix or determine Dcstinedt determined, ob«An-

Qle
Stinguo, I put out, Btinctus, Ex^'n^'sh, to put out, ex-
extinguished tinct
Stringo,! bind, 8trictU8,bound Strict^ exact, «(nc/ure, Mtrin*

gent
Struo, I build, structus, built StructurCf a building, de-
er piled up stroy
Suadeo, 1 advise, suasus, ad- Persuasion, opinion, dUsuade

vised
Sumo, I take, sumptus, taken Assume, to take, to claim,

• • consumption

Surge, I rise, surrectUs, risen Resurrect on, rieing again,

insurgent
Tango, I touch, tactus,touch- Contact, touch, ^^rngent

ed
Tempus, temporis, time Tempar9i\f relating to4ime,

tempordiry
Temno, I despise temptus, Contemn, to despise, con-
despised temptdib\e
Tendo, I stretch, tentus, Bhtend, to stretch, extent

stretched *

Teneo, I hold, tentus, held Cantain, to hold, continent
Terminus, a bound or limit Term, limit, defermine
Terra, the earth Terrestrial, earthly, in^«r

Testis, a witness Testify, to witness, aitesi

Textus, woven Texture, a web, contest

Tollero, I bear Intolerant, insufferable

Torreo, I roast Torrid, scorching

Tortus, twisted Confor/ion, twist, <or<ure, ex-

tort
Traho, I draw, tractus.drawn Attract, to draw to, tractable
Tremo, I tremble Tremulous, trembling, trem^

endous

■%

Turba, a crowd

810

Trudo, I thruBt,tru8U«,thniBtaiInft'iMfo, to «nter withonl

right
TWulent, tmnuUaoiWi dit-
iurb
Umbra, a abadovir UmBrageoua, shady, urn*

^lia
Unda, a wave Inundale, to overflow, tmd^

uiate
Unguo, I anoint, unctus, an- UngventfZa ointinent,«n0iion

ointed
Unus, one I/nanimous, of one miad

VaccOf I am empty Faculty, emptiness, evacuate

Vado, I go, vasuB, gone Invade, to assail, iniMwioa

Valeo, I am strong Preva/ence, superiority! pra*

vail
Venio, I come, ventus, come Convene, to come together,

advent
Verbum, a word Fer^atum, word for word- •

Veris, true Aver, to affirm, v^ity, ver-

acity
Via, a way Devious, wandering, obin'ato

Vinco, I conquer, victus, [n vincible, unconquerable

conquered
Vir, a man Ftrility, manhood, vu'ile

Vivo, I live, vita, life, victus, Survive, to remain alive,

live vivid, vi^al

Voco, Icall, vocatus, called RevoAie, to recall, vocative
Volo, I Will, I wish Fe/untary, willing, benevo-

lent
Volvo, I roll; up "Revolve, to roll round, re-

volut\on
Voro, I devour Foracious, ravenous^ cami-

verous
Voveo, I vow, votus, vowed Fofary, one devoted, VO10,

devoted
Vulsus, pulled Convu/«ion, commotion

311

IV. GREEK ROOTS,

'WITH EXAMPLES OF THEIR ENGLISH DERIVATIVES.
Root Mid Meaning Exaaples of OerWativet

Aethlos, a combal ant^thlet'ic, v\goroy\s

Agdgos, a leader Demagogue, the leader of a

faction

Agon, strife Agony, extreme pain, an-

tagonist

Arche,beginning,60vereignty MonarcAygovernment under

one ruler, arc/4cty|)e,Patri-

Arctos, a bear, the north
Arithmos, number

her,

1 Astron, a star

rd.-

1 Atmos, vapour

Vt/f*

inato

1 Autos, one's self

t)le

1 Biblion, a book

e
alive,

1 Bios, life

five

1 Charis, charitos, gi

me«»-

1 ChSir, the hand

I Cbrislus, anointed

d, re-

I Chronos, time

carni-

I Deka, ten

, WMI,

1 Demds, the people

Despotes, a lord or master
Doxo, I will think, dedogmai,

I have been judged, dox6,

an opinion

arch

Arctic, northern, Bniaretic

Arithmeiic, the science of
numbers ,

Astronomy, a science teach-
ing the knowledge of the
celestial bodies, astrhX

Atmosphere, the air that en-
compasses the earth on all
sides

AtUogrdiph, a person^s own
hand-writing

Bidliopoilatf a book-seller,
bidle

Amphibious, living on land
or in water

Charity, love, euMarist
CAfrography, penmanship

ChristlanHyf the religion of
Christ

CAronic, of long duration,
chronometer

Decade, the number ten,
decalogue

Democracy, a popular go-
vernment epifl^mic

Despotic, absolute in power

Orthodox, correct in opinion,
dogmatic doxology

312

Ro«t and MtiMiHf

Drorhos, a cdune

Kxu'DplM of Itarhwtiw*

as Hippodrome, a race course,

dromedary

Dynasly, a race of sovereigns

Eclipse yXo cxlinguisii,ec/f/>tlc

ironica1,expressing one thing

and meaning another
Energy, force, sarg-ery, urge
Brtlogjr, praise evangelist* Tv^"
Polygamy, marriage with

several, poiyn-awy
Geography, knowledge of the
earth .' :'■:

Genesis, account of the crea-
tion, hydrogen, oxygen,
g-ewealogy
Heteron-e;,e )us, dissim'lar in

nature
G/oA's, a comment, polygio^
glossskvy
Glypho, I carve, or engrave Hierog-^^Alc, writing by

emblems
Gramma, a letter, writing Epigram, a pointed poem,

gramm?kr
Grapho, I write, graphs, a Epigr<7;)/^,an inscription, au-
- writing - iograph,

Gymnos, naked, destitute Gymnasium, a place for ath-

Dyn&mis power
Erleipo, I fail
Eiroiii « Jiasembler

Ergon, a work

Eu, well

Gamos, a marriage

Ge (g. hard) the earth

Geno or gennao, I proJuce

Genos, kind, a race
Glossa, or fflotta, the tongue

Gyne, a woman
Hedra, a seat

Hemisus, half

Hepta, seven
Heteros, dissimilar
Hex, six
Hieros, sacred, holy

Homos, similar, like
,vtHydor, water

letic exercises, gymnnsWG
M\sogyn'\s\, a woman hater
CatMral, the head church

of a diocese, Sanhedrim
Hemisphere, the half of a

glohe
Heptagon f^ sevensided figure
IleterodoK, not orthodox
//ea?agon, a six sided figure
Hierarchy, a sacred govern-
ment
Homogeneous, of like nature
Hi/drogen, one of the princi-
l>le8 of water

e coiirset

overeigns
ihfeclipiic
one thing
►Iher 1^
rery, u^ge
gelist' •>'
ge with

;dge of the

■' ^m.i}i

fthecrea-

oxy gen,

jslm'lar in

, polyglotf

riting by

ed poem,

iption,* au-

ce for ath-
gymnaslic
nan hater
id church
"ihedrim
half of a

ided figure
hodox
]ed figure
jd govern-

ike nature
theprinci-

IMsmi, I iUmd, ttitit, «m

itinding
Kaljrptd, I eovtr, KalypiOi I

will cover
Kephdli, the hetd

KSrM) a horn

Kosmof* the world^ erder

Kranion, the skull]

Kratot, strehgtb, power
KrinOy 1 diseem
KyklQ8,.a circle

Laos, the people

Legd, I speek or read^ I col-
lect
Lepsis, a taking or leeeiving

LithoBj a stone

Logos, a Werd, description

Ludj I dissolve

Martyr, a witness

Mkth6ite, a setfolar, mathe-
. slS| learriiag
Meehanftb, i invent, me-

ehanSj machine
Metron, a measnre

Micros, Utile
Monos, alone

<S'/a«ien, the fbiUiiMmHifn*

9taej ' -

Apoca/j(pM, rev^litiM

HydroeepA^ds^ dliopptaf la
the head

MonocerM, a anicom, rhino-
eerct

C(Minetic,beautifying, ooimo-
graphy V* '

Cranivm^ the skull, hemi-
cranj

k nacrat\ a despotid tA^

fh /isrion, a matt to jiidgr li]^

iJycle, a circle, a period of
time,^c/opoedia -

Laity, the people, distin-
guished frotn clei^

Xeiricon, a dictionarf^ dIaM

Epi^0«y, a convulsion of the ,

body
XtMotomy, operation (br the

stone
VMlegm^ a tottversation.

Geology
Vanlyze, to render fteMe,

ana/y«is
Jlfar<yrxlom, death 6f a maiw

tyr
JlfoMdmatics, tiie sciedce ef

quantity
Mechanic^ woiiikmati, IM-

ehine
MetrBj verse, measure^ geo-

vieirif
JlficroBcope, an instruniiiit

for viewing small oljee^'
•Monosyllable, woi^ q(

syllable, flioMk

li|£i»»Mil«
N

uMeiMmorphomfio vngaMil
MyttuAofff^ system of (tbkMi
iVoytieal, reiatiiig to^nhi^"!

lundea
Peloponneiiig^ jth^ACoiMc^ i
Anomaly irregularity, astro-

OdSe, a lyric poem, meWyi
episode ; -u: ,»'^:c :.

EzoaiM, a journey from a
place »i..."iiiij;j' >

JSconomy frugality, <^ .^v'^i

0/tgarchy, rule of a feve

Noiioi^ a lavr or r«le

Odd, a aoiig, or poem

Odos,awair

Oikos, a houiio

Oligos, a little, few ^ ,,

O^maii,^ I Me, ops, the eye Synopms, a general viewr oft^

tica

drain, oraithos, a bird

Orthos, right, correct
Q^^ ilkMfii acid

Fftiii,.paidQS,aboy
Pathos, i^eling, passion
Pentd, fiire

P#^,petroS| a atone

]^haliio> X ahevr, I appear

Phemi, I say, I epsak

Philos, a friend, or lover

'.m.n s.

Phobeo, I terrify
Pbos, li^t

P^lf , a phrase

* > . • ■ .

l*hifief^,,thftmiod

<jf

OnitMology, knowledge of

birds ■..,... ; ,00: /.I

OrtAoioXf sound in opinion
CXsygen, the generator : of

acids
Pefihgoguoi a teacher of bqys
AntipaMy, dislike, jMi^Aetfc
Pentagon, a five sided figur$|

Pentecost
Petrify, to change to stone,

Peter .■ .,vf:«A'

P^is, appearance of the

moon, jvAantasm >

BlaspAetne^ to revile God;

emphasiB
PAt'/anthropic, benevolen^

jvAt/osopby ' ^^nuinT

HydropAo^ia, fenr of water
PAosphor, the morning star,

jvAo/oroeter
Phrase, a mode of speech,

/>Araeeology .
PArenzy, madne&i ^ArenoU

ogy

P(A'

ofiibUHi

iff attro-

■■mi tV^'i-
r from a

I few

rledge of

opinion
uratbr'oir

rofbqyv

Btoodr
of the
e God;
evolen^

water
Dg itar,

speeclr/'^'

threncU

I^lblMfO^afoiirtd i ai Di/>AlAon^;a j i » iia ; ii <<l^tw#

se'-'i.Vk-ix;^)''.. :<»> ' voweli to Mil Mt/eMrfi

fh^mti^ .1^ Phy9io»t. natura.l f < il tiefil n f ;

« j9Ay«ic

Pla«% libriDi or daab over Catap/ofin, a piaalliaeCi

r ■:;^l;i . ■ ter t /t-(.

I'oliif a city

Polyi many

Potamoiy ui river
Poui, podoi^ the ibot ;

Pfotoa» first
Pyr, fire

■•■>-' ^ \-
Bheoi^ I flo^

catarrA
Sarke» Barkoii fle8b,the body iS'arrasm, a keen refNtoaeh
Skopeoy I see Sccpe, aim, iiiicrofco{D«

SophoBjWise, Bophia,wi8doia Scphisaif a fallaey^, philo-

aophy

Metroj9o/t«, the mother tity,

poliod . :^'0 ,,^x:a s^ ^iil •■' '•

Po/yglot, of many languages,

j9o/y8yllable
Hippo/>ora»itf«, a river horse
Tripo^ a stool with <lkrai

feet, antieocfet, ' , '
Pft>tocoI,'ihe original copy
Pyre, a piie to lid burnt, /pyr-
amid '>-^ . ii". K

DearrAoeai a fluxof the body^

( ,. i A

>.•

Sphaira, a sphere
Stasis, a standing
Slelloy I send
tel6, distant
ax; ^
Technd, art, cr science

Thapto, I bury

Uemisperef half a g^be
"Ecitacyf rapture
Apostle, a messenger, epitff fe
Te/escope, a glass by which
distant objects are viewed
T^c-^nical, peculiar to the

arts and sciences
EpitojoA, an inscription on a.
tomb '

Thdma, a thing put, thesis, a AnaMema, a curse, Theme

position . \ v?^^ I .i^^ ^

Theoreojlsee T^^ory, upeculafion, notr

practice
Theoi, God AtAeist, one who deifki.V

God, ^Aeology
ThermosiWana TAermometer>n in^Btnimeat '

to measure heat

#%'

h..«

SIB

•TDMifMim

inimtl Zoology, defcnption orkoi-

-trt«

•f

)? •

.,c

V'*'

^^^••

*■■

-■ i

pUftofa
obtaDi-

,'t

/i-H

6V'

■r^^l!!o0 'M-yM'^-"* l^'^"''

in* 50 ,•

■titef

.•^. ,s

^l»v.

*; j

:&q t ■rn'^-i>iii-,h^'i''t