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a few small ring-mountains, rounded and obscured, and a large portion of their walls defaced, as if water-worn. They present the appearance, not of seas, but of places where seas have been. A singular channel is observed near Herodotus; it cuts through his wall like a gorge, flows through its windings, and discharges into the "oceanus procellarium" (ocean of storms). It was about a mile wide, forty-three miles long, 4,500 feet deep, with steep, brilliant sides, as if hollowed out by a fluid. Such dry streams differ totally from a terrestrial river, which is wide at the mouth, receives tributaries in its course, lessens in size as it approaches its source, and then diminishes to the rills feeding its infant waters. Exactly the reverse, however, is the case in the lunar streams. The class of objects called rills, or more properly rifts, are very conspicuous near the centre. The course of one is 104 miles long, three-quarters of a mile wide-depth unknown. It runs through a dozen of craters. Near it another, of 150 miles long, runs through a high alpine district, and splits into two one of its loftiest peaks. Westward is a network of smaller rifts, appearing as if the surface had been cracked by the action of some internal force.

The doctor proceeded to say, that it might be asked what ring-mountains are; and after giving distinguished authorities in favour of the old idea that they are craters of volcanoes, and the peculiarities which had induced them to adopt the opinion, went on to state a number of objections sufficiently convincing to upset the theory. He next, in reply to the continually-put question, "Is the moon inhabited, and if so, are its inhabitants analogous to ourselves?"-proceeded to say: My answer must be in the negative. There is no air to breathe, no water to drink, no vegetation to support life, no possibility of communication on the fearful abysses of land, and no seas to traverse. Supposing inhabitants to exist, they must be morally as well as physically unlike us. We are endowed with certain faculties which we must use. We build cities, we clear forests, we unite, and, alas! we war with one another. Were such occurrences to take place in the moon, we should see their effects. With lord Rosse's six feet reflector, an object of 100 yards in diameter can be discovered; any variation of colour in the surface can be ascer

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tained; a town like Belfast, with the spiring chimney-stalks of its manufactories, could not be overlooked. Yet nothing of this has been seen. still, immovable, and dead - not the slightest trace of any visible living being. We must then suppose that the moon is not intended, at least at the present time, for the support or habitation of any living thing such as exists in our earth. Our glimpses at the planets show the existence of the requisites of life in them; but in the moon there is nothing which could support life, such as that with which we are acquainted. There is, however, sufficient connected with her to irresistibly call forth the recognition of the power, and wisdom, and glory of the great Being who created her, and who has endowed us, his creatures, with faculties to seek, however faintly, for the evidences of his work in the worlds that surround us.

EMINENT NATURALISTS.
No. I.

Ir is stated in the inspired records, that "out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air; and brought them unto Adam to see what he would call them," Gen. ii. 19. Thus it appears that Adam was guided to the designation of the animals around him by appellative words, which would alike aid his memory and other mental operations, and facilitate the more enlarged application of thought and language.

In after times more knowledge was acquired of animated nature. Michaelis observes, that "the systematic division of quadrupeds given by Moses, is so excellent, as never yet to have been obsolete; but on the contrary, is still considered useful by the great writers of science; a fact," he adds, "which cannot but be looked upon as truly wonderful." Solomon spake not only of trees, from the cedar which is in Lebanon to the hyssop or moss, springing out of the wall, but also of beasts, of creeping things, and of fishes.

Among uninspired men, Aristotle, the founder of the Peripatetic school of philosophy, stands pre-eminent in early times, for his researches in natural history. Alexander, afterwards called the Great, was confided to his care, on attaining the age of fifteen. Great benefits were conferred for his sake by Philip

of Macedon, on the inhabitants of Athens, and Aristotle obtained permission to occupy the Lyceum, a large inclosure in the suburbs of that celebrated city. He gave public lectures there for thirteen years, during which time he did not cease to correspond with Alexander. That celebrated prince had placed at his disposal several thousand persons, who were occupied in hunting, fishing, and making the observations necessary for completing the "History of Animals," a work Aristotle had undertaken. Alexander is also said to have given an immense sum-800 talents-to this work, while he took care to send the philosopher a great variety of zoological specimens, collected in countries which were subdued by his arms.

Aristotle has been styled "the secretary of nature." Diogenes of Laertes in Cilicia, who lived about the end of the second century, gives the titles of no fewer than two hundred and sixty of his works. According to Dr. Gillies, he must have "" composed about four hundred different treatises, of which only forty-eight have been transmitted to the present age. But many of these consist of several books; and the whole of his remains still forms a golden stream of Greek erudition, four times exceeding the collective bulk of the Iliad and Odyssey."

With natural history Aristotle had a comprehensive acquaintance; he arranged the animals he observed, not according to the species, (the course of many of his successors,) but according to their orders and functions; an anticipation the most honourable to his intelligence and judgment of the modern sciences of physiology and zoology. The best edition of his history of animals is that of "Schneider," in four volumes 8vo., published at Leipsic in 1811. Though a most remarkable work, it must not be considered a safe guide at the present time. Numerous, as might be expected, are its errors; and he who would now make real progress, must avail himself of opportunities diligently to study the natural world, and the best auxiliaries of instruction he can command.

Caius Plinius Secundus, who died in the seventy-ninth year of the Christian era, though a naturalist, was not such an observer as Aristotle, nor had he the genius of that great philosopher. His work on natural history is described by

himself as composed of extracts from more than 2000 volumes, written by travellers, historians, geographers, and philosophers, of whose productions only about forty remain, some of which are merely fragments. He was therefore a compiler rather than an author, and, moreover, one not prepared to sift the true from the false. We observe in the writers to whom he refers an unbridled exercise of the imagination, and in himself an extraordinary credulity. Still there is much in his work of curious information. His Latinity is remarkably pure.

Zoology, like other sciences, made but little progress from the time of Pliny to the commencement of the sixteenth century. We dwell not on the writers of the interval. They applied their eyes to the works of their predecessors rather than to living objects; and repeated what was said before with but little addition. The gold and the dross remained together; the one unbrightened, the other intact. The furnace, however, did not then exist which could bring the precious metal into its proper state.

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In the seventeenth century, Swammerdam was the most distinguished naturalist, and his inquiries into the structures of insects were accurate and extensive. It is singular that this most interesting division of animated nature was so long neglected. There is but little exaggeration in one of the papers of "The Idler,' in which the writer says: "All the faults of my life were for nine months circulated through the town with the most active malignity, because I happened to catch a moth of peculiar variegation; and because I once outbid all the lovers of shells, and carried off a Nautilus, it was hinted that the validity of my uncle's will ought to be disputed." While some light was possessed by a few, it fell only within the limits of their very narrow circle; beyond was the gloom of dense ignorance, in which prejudice existed in all its active malignity.

John Ray, the son of a blacksmith, obtained high and well-deserved honour at the university of Cambridge. He was the intimate friend of one who, like himself, has been decribed as an admirer of the works of God, and who aided him in reviving the much-neglected study of botany. The reception of his "Catalogue of Cambridge Plants," published in 1660, encouraged him to more vigorous research, and led him to travel

extensively in England and Wales, as well as over a part of Scotland. The friend just referred to, and his companion in these excursions, was Mr. Willoughby, one of his pupils; but who was early removed by death. Ray subsequently traversed the Low Countries, Germany, Italy, and several islands of the Mediterranean.

Having published many important volumes on Natural History, he prepared the one by which he is most known: "The Wisdom of God manifested in the Works of Creation." His object was, to demonstrate the existence of the Great Supreme; to illustrate some of his attributes, and to stir up and increase, in those who read his work, the affections and habits of admiration, humility, and gratitude. In this purpose, he presents a striking contrast to not a few, unhappily, of those who preceded or followed him. Often do we read of marvellous operations, which could only be effected by the Almighty, but without a tribute to his perfections, or even an acknowledgment of his being. Nature is sometimes spoken of, but rather like some fabled goddess of antiquity; while God, who "created all things by the word of his power," and whose kingdom ruleth over all," seems absolutely forgotten.

There is now a society of naturalists at Cambridge, named after this eminent man, the "Ray Society."

Willoughby, the pupil and companion of Ray, died before he reached the meridian of life. Of him Dr. Derham says; "His example deserves the imitation of every person of great estate and honour; for he was a man whom God had blessed with a very plentiful estate, and with excellent parts, capable of making himself useful to the world. And accordingly he neglected no opportunity of doing it. He did not (as the fashion too much is) depend upon his riches, and spend his time in sloth or sports, idle companykeeping, and luxury; but practising what was laudable and good, what might be of service to mankind. And among other virtuous employments, one he much delighted in, was the searching after and describing animals, (birds, beasts, fishes, and insects,) which province he had taken for his task, as Mr. Ray had that of plants. And in these matters he was a great master, as he was also in plants, fossils, and, in short, the whole history of nature; to which I may add that of coins, and most other curious

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THIS to many people would be an unwelcome question; a trying question; an embarrassing question: hardly, indeed, could a more disagreeable inquiry be made. What? Call upon a man all in a moment to give an account of his private affairs? Require him to tell you how he stands with his neighbours and those with whom he deals! Be assured that Alan Quintin never thought of taking such a liberty.

Whether you owe anything, or nothing, to your butcher or your baker, your landlord or the tax-gatherer, is no affair of mine. If you owe them nothing, so much the better; and if you are in their debt, by getting out of it, you will please them, and also contribute to your own peace. But my question has nothing to do with money matters, so make yourself easy.

A man may be deeply in debt without owing money; for he may have received attention, civility, kindness, friendship, and many other favours that he is bound to acknowledge. How much, then, do you owe for these things; and what course are you taking to acknowledge, if you cannot cancel, the obligation?

Are you, in your turn, attentive, kind, Do not trouble and friendly to all? yourself to give me your answer; give it to your own heart.

But, passing by what you may owe to the young and the old, the rich and the poor, your neighbours, your friends, and your enemies, let me ask how much you owe your greatest Creditor? How much do you owe the Almighty Giver of all you have or hope for? What an amount!

Were he severe, well might he wear a frown! Time would not serve your pen to write it down.

What do you owe him for the senses of hearing, seeing, smelling, tasting, and feeling? You have heard the song of the lark, the soft note of the lute, the voice of praise, and the invitation of the messenger

of mercy proclaiming the glad-tidings of salvation. You have seen the sun rise and set, the fair earth and heavens, and the forms and faces of mankind. You have smelt the fragrance of the flower, the new-made bay, and the savoury viands that delight the palate. You have tasted the delicious fruits of the tree, the pleasant flavour of dainty meats, and the refreshing water of the crystal spring; and you have felt the cool breeze in summer, the warm glow of the earth in winter, and the softness of the silky and furry dress. For these things, among others, are you indebted. How much do you owe?

You owe Him for health, without which life loses its enjoyment; for the use of your limbs, moving about from one place to another with ease and pleasure; for preservation, by day and night, from unknown and unnumbered dangers; and for sickness, that often teaches us more than we learn from health. What an amount of debt has here been incurred, and what a fit subject is this for your meditations!

And how much do you owe Him for the book of truth? For the knowledge of this and another world that it communicates? For the necessary reproofs it has given you in your wanderings and backslidings? For its abundant consolations in trial and affliction beyond all price? And for its precious promises, so well adapted to sustain the drooping spirit, and assure the desponding heart? These are no light items in your account; no trifling additions to the sum total of

your debt. Have you gone through them with care, or have you altogether disregarded them? Your debt in either case is great. Daily gifts, too,

Like ocean waves, in quick succession mount,
And hourly mercies swell the vast account.

How much do you owe Him for convincing you of sin when you were reckless, and bringing you to repentance when your heart was hardened? How much for giving you faith to believe in his holy word and will? How much for peace, and love, and joy; making your crooked paths straight, and your rough plain; and turning your darkness to day, and your mourning into mirth? You have need of the pen of a ready-reckoner to answer the question, How much do you owe him?

Figures and words great numbers will express; Our sins and mercies both are numberless.

And what do you owe Him, think you, for his power, his wisdom and goodness set forth in the creation, preservation, and redemption of the world? What for the ransom that he found for sinners? Will thousands of silver, or tens of thousands of gold, be worth regarding? Will the rubies and diamonds of the earth do to set against the blood of the Redeemer? I ought not only to ask how much you owe him, but also how much you have paid him. Let me, however, first ask, have you the inclination to know what you owe him? And have you the desire duly to acknowledge the debt? Are you turning your heart tour great Creditor, or are you lifting up your heel against him?

And now, Christian reader, sum up altogether the multiplied mercies of your heavenly Father, from your birth to the present hour; your existence, your health, your faculties, your possessions, your preservation, your enjoyments, and your hopes; adding to them the value of that atoning sacrifice offered up on the cross, and the worth of an eternity of joy and glory secured to you by the redemption of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ! Look, on the one hand at your piled up sins, and on the other at your mountainous mercies; and while you feel how much you owe, and how utterly unable you are to pray, let your language be,

Almighty Lord, my debt is in degree,
As vast as Time, and all eternity;.
I humbly place myself at thy control,
My heart and life, my body and my soul!

OPINIONS.

BISHOP HALL remarks, it is too much stiffness to stand ever on the height, and to give no quarter in matter of opinion; like those peremptory Egyptians, who in several cities, would either profess to abhor the crocodile or to deify him. There is a mean, if we could hit on it, in all, save fundamental, quarrels, worthy to be the scope of all our charitable desires; which if we could attain and rest in, we and the church of God should be peaceful and happy.

SLEEP.

SLEEP, the type of death, is also, like that which it typifies, restricted to the earth. It flies from hell, and is excluded from heaven!-Colton.

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THE BIRD OF PARADISE.

Greater Bird of Paradise.

THE birds of paradise are distinguished by having a straight, compressed, and stout beak, not marginated. They have covered nostrils, as in the case of crows; but the influence of the clime they inhabit-which extends to birds of several other genera, so far as the beak is concerned-imparts a velvety texture, and frequently also a metallic gloss to those feathers which overlay the nostrils, while the plumage of various other parts acquire a singular development. Some of them have thinly-barbed feathers on their flanks, or rather shoulder-tufts, which cover the closed wing, so prolonged, indeed, as to form immense tufts, which extend far backward beyond the body. There are also in general barbless

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filaments attached, which are even more elongated than the airy lateral plumes. Others have similar long filaments, but their lateral filaments, though still elongated, do not pass the tail. Of this illustrations are furnished in the king bird of paradise, and the variety called the magnificent.+ Some have also thinly webbed feathers on the flanks, but they are short. The six-stemmed species have a golden green spot on the throat, and three long filaments proceeding from each ear, which are terminated by a small disc of barbs of the same colour. Lastly, there are some with neither elongated filaments nor lateral

Paradisea regia, Cincinnurus regius, Vieillot. + Paradisea magnifica, Sonnerat. Paradisæа aurea, Gmelin; Paradisca sexsetacea, Shaw.

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