to that of the common whale, and their teeth are harder; they are, consequently, susceptible of a finer polish than even the elephant's. Some of the species, also, yield both ambergris and spermaceti.

As the natives of the frigid zone obtain many additions to their comforts, by bartering the long horns of the narwhale for articles of foreign growth, so are both ambergris and spermaceti important objects in the Greenland trade.

It is delightful to associate these huge creatures with those stern and imposing scenes, where even the rude sailors who have not been familiarized with the Arctic regions, often express the astonishment which their characteristic features are adapted to inspire. So true it is, that the most untutored minds are susceptible of powerful impressions from the vast and terrible in nature. And independent of the feelings that are simultaneously excited by a succession of living mountains, crowned with water spouts, and gambling in the deep, with the ease and rapidity of the smallest vessels, it is cheering to witness the appearance of animated beings in a world of solitude and desolation. One spot, (if spot it might be called, on the fluctuating deep,) is vividly presented to our minds, by the description of a friend. Immediately in front of him appeared the austere and savage rocks of Spitzbergen, on which the sun, from time to time, shed an ungenial light athwart the clouds. The sea, gently agitated, shone with a faint and peculiar sparkling. Not a murmur broke upon the ear, except the rustling sound, which the movements of these huge animals occasionally produced, and the monotonous cry of a crowd of sea-gulls, steering towards the south.

Imagination wanders with delight over scenes of grandeur and uncertainty. A solitary vessel, ploughing the

waves of an unknown sea, surrounded by creatures of strange aspect and enormous bulk, seemed liable, every moment, to become their prey. Such might have been the case, had their rapacity equalled their size: but no creature is less voracious than the common whale, (balæna mysticetus.) They feed, as some naturalists allege, upon different kinds of marine insects; according to others, on the medusæ, or sea blubber, though some occasionally prey on small fish. The reason of this peculiarity is obvious. If the voracity of the balæna family accorded with their bulk and number, the watery tribes would be unable to procure an adequate supply of food; although the Northern seas are plentifully replenished with marine insects. Nor is the peculiar gentleness of the huge animal less deserving of attention. He is remarkably pacific, and leads an easy inoffensive life, on the billows of the Arctic sea, where his aquatic brethren safely repose under the shelter of his enormous bulk. Nor will it be irrelevant to pursue a little farther, the natural history of this inoffensive creature, in connection with the benefits, which his visits confer on the northern regions of the globe.

The whale is termed the monarch of the ocean; but this distinction apparently results, rather from his extraordinary dimensions, than from any inclination to ensure, or to retain it; for the love of sway is by no means synonymous with strength. The elephant and the camel fly before the tiger and the lion: the eagle exercises a decided superiority over the ostrich. We may pursue the analogy still farther; both the whale and the elephant are the largest and the strongest in their respective dominions; yet they are seldom known to offer an injury to others; both are terrible when provoked to resentment, though rarely inclined to avenge themselves. The lordly ele

phant is often driven from his haunts by insolent invaders the whale, if he sways the sceptre of the deep, sways it by a very precarious tenure; it is often wrested from him by the most despicable of his subjects: creatures so diminutive and subtile, that his amazing strength is insufficient to rid him of them.

We have already noticed that Spitzbergen is the favourite resort of the lordly whale. Our readers are aware that the country is cold and woodless, and that the surrounding ocean is dangerous to navigators. Notwithstanding this, Europeans have resorted thither for more than three centuries, and thinned the number of its cetaceous occupants. These hostilities are carried on for the sake of the oil and whalebone. The former is extracted from various parts of the body, the latter adheres to either side of the upper jaw, and is formed of their parallel laminæ. A considerable number of these laminæ are surrounded with long stiff hairs, and a double purpose is answered by them. They effectually prevent the shorter laminæ from injuring the tongue, and serve as bars to prevent the escape of the molluscæ, on which the animal generally feeds, when in the act of throwing up his jets.

There is much danger, and something of sublimity, connected with the whale-fishery. Riding on the billows of the Arctic sea, the creature journeys fearlessly along, now showering his jets to an amazing height, now lashing the billows into foam, till no longer seen on the remotest waves, or vanishing behind the jutting crags, which, like enormous buttresses, are posted round the iron shores of Greenland and Spitzbergen. But in vain does he shower his jets into the air, or fearlessly ride the billows of the main, or disappear behind the craggy rocks that bound his ancient empire. The whale fishers hear the sound of his