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parhelia appeared, and in the region of the eccentric arch, small clouds of greater density could be distinctly perceived. There was neither rain nor dew at Arbroath, nor in its vicinity, during the phenomenon. Neither the state of the thermometer nor barometer was observed at the time. Towards night there was some dew, and an appearance of rain; but a frosty wind ensued before next morning. The phenomenon on the whole was grand and beautiful, and perhaps not inferior to that seen at Rome in 1629, nor to that at Arles in 1666; though in the former there appeared five, and in the latter six parhelia.

This atmospherical phenomenon was observed, and described as above, by Mr. Bowman, schoolmaster, of St. Vigeans, North Britain. It is now extracted from the common place-book of a friend.

Of the many singular deceptions caused by the atmosphere which might be adduced, we annex the following, by two celebrated travellers :

Mr. Salt thus describes the effects of the atmosphere on the vision, to which he was an eye-witness.At daybreak we continued our route to Aden. As we approached the peninsula, we were much struck with the appearances which the Sun put on as it rose. When it had risen about half way above the horizon, its shape appeared like that of a balloon; and at length the lower limb suddenly starting up from the horizon, it assumed the general form of a globe, flattened at either axis. These singular changes may be attributed to the refraction produced by different layers of atmosphere, through which the Sun was viewed in its progress. The same cause made our ship in the bay look as if it had been lifted out of the water, and her bare masts appear to be crowded with sail: a low rock also seemed to rise up like a vessel, and a projecting point of land to rest on no other foundation than the air; the space between these objects and the horizon having a grey pellucid tinge, very distinct from the darker colour of the Sun.'

Dr. Clarke, speaking of the same phenomenon, says-' One of the Arabs, whom we saw from afar, seemed higher than a tower, and to be moving in the air; at first this was to me a strange appearance, but it was only the effect of refraction. The camel which the Arab was upon, touched the ground like all others.' The effects of the atmosphere, however, in causing these appearances, seem to be confined to hot and arid countries, and almost peculiar to the deserts of Africa, particularly those of Arabia and Abyssinia.

On the COMET of 1811.

The appearance of this luminous wanderer is, no doubt, still fresh in the minds of many of our readers; and to such, the following beautiful and descriptive lines need no apology.

How lonely is this wildered scene,

When Silence, from her vault so blue,
Steals soft o'er Teviot's mountains green,
To sleep embalmed in midnight dew!
All hail, ye hills, whose tow'ring height
Like shadows scoops the yielding sky!
And thou, mysterious guest of night,
Dread trav'ller of immensity!

Stranger of heav'n, I bid thee bail!

Shred from the pall of glory riven,
That flashest in celestial gale;

Broad pennon of the King of Heaven!
Art thou the flag of woe and death
From angel's ensign-staff unfurled?
Art thou the standard of his wrath,
Waved o'er a sordid sinful world?
No; from thy pure pellucid beam,
That erst o'er plains of Bethlehem shone,
No latent evil we can deem,

Fair herald of th' eternal throne!
Whate'er portends thy front of fire,
And streaming locks so lovely pale
Or peace to man, or judgments dire,
Stranger of heav'n, I bid thee hail!

Where hast thou roamed these thousand years?
Why sought these polar paths again?
From wilderness of glowing spheres,

To fling thy vesture o'er the wain?
And when thou climb'st the milky way,
And vanishest from human view,
A thousand worlds shall hail thy ray,
Through wilds of yon empyreal blue.
Oh, on thy rapid prow to glide!

To sail the boundless skies with thee!
And plough the twinkling stars aside,
Like foam-bells on a tranquil sea!
To brush the embers from the Sun;
The icicles from off the pole ;
Then far to other systems run,

Where other moons and planets roll!
Stranger of heav'n! O let thine eye
Smile on a wild enthusiast's dream!
Eccentric as thy course on high,

And airy as thine ambient beam.
And long, long may thy silver ray
Our northern vault at eve adorn;

Then, wheeling to the east away,

2

Sweep the grey portals of the morn!

HOGG.

Vividly are the closing evenings towards the end of this month described in the following lines.

"Tis eventide-the downward sloping Sun,
Like a young parting lover bound to cross
Oceans untried, and visit isles remote,

From his bright throne upon the landscape casts
The softened smile of fondness. Lingering still
On his accustomed steep, as if regret

To leave the world to midnight's cold embrace
Retarded his departure; while the flowers
Put forth their sweetest fragrance, and the birds
With wild notes make the grove and valley ring,
To tempt his longer stay-but all in vain:
He may not tarry—his last yellow beams
Give to the waving tresses of the woods,
And the brown mountain's brow, a farewell kiss.
Half his red orb is in a crimson cloud
Immerged, and now 'tis sunk below the ridge
Of those blue hills that drink his latest ray.

PENNIE'S Rogvald.

The Naturalist's Diary

For MARCH 1826.

March, though the hours of promise with bright ray
May gild thy noons, yet, on wild pinion borne,
Loud winds more often rudely wake thy morn,

And harshly hymn thy early-closing day.

THE cutting blasts of March, so trying to the invalid, are equally injurious to the progress of vegetation; and the sweet flowers' are compelled to await the smiles and tears of gentle April to encourage their growth, and to bring them to perfection. Some more bold than the rest, who dare to brave the warrior front of Boreas, often perish in his chilly embrace. The winds of March, however, are highly beneficial in drying up the superabundant moisture of the earth; and although they may retard the delights and the beauties of Spring, these are rendered more valuable to us, because they are less fugacious.

The russet-brown dress of the hedges is now spotted with green, preparatory to their assuming the complete vesture of Spring.-The leaves of the lilac begin to peep from beneath their winter clothing, and gooseberry and currant trees display their verdant foliage and pretty green blossoms. The yew-tree, 'faithful in death,' as it protects our tombs from the gaze of every passing stranger, when our more gaudy floral acquaintances have deserted us, opens its blossoms about the beginning of this month. Mr. WIFFEN, whose 'Aonian Hours' should ever accompany us in our rambles during the Spring and Summer, speaking of the yew, says-He

Hath built himself a pinnacle, and stands

The guardian of the vale-whose dropping dew
Binds with a deadly barrenness the sands

Which loathe the weeds they nourish: to the bands
Of its mysterious circle not the bee

Comes, which all blossoms seeks, though it commands
A berry beautiful as eye may see;

Nor there one green herb grows, nor harebell of the lea.

But well its shade would please the anchorite;
There might be build him his monastic dome,
Arch, cell, cave, cloister, altar, minaret,
And moan and patter in that Gothic home
O'er creeds of o'erpast centuries: but to roam
Yon dell with moorland fragrance overspread
In the sweet summer tide, would ill become
His ashy cheek, and heart to pleasure dead,
For him that heathy couch were far too soft a bed.

The melody of birds now gradually swells upon the ear. The throstle, second only to the nightingale in song, charms us with the sweetness and variety of its lays. The linnet and the goldfinch join the general concert in this month, and the golden-crowned wren begins its song. The lark, also, must not be forgotten. While the birds delight us with their song, the bees read us a lesson of industry, for they are to be seen collecting materials for their elegant condiment of honey on every fine day throughout the year'.

1 The BEE.

Love in his bosom, like a bee,
Doth sucke his sweete;

Now with his wings he plays with me,

Now with his feete.

Within mine eyes he makes his nest,

His bed amid my tender breast;

My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest.

Strike I my lute-he tunes the string,
He music plays-if I do sing;
He lends me ev'ry living thing,
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting.

What if I beat the wanton boy
With many a rod,

He will repay me with annoy,
Because a god.

Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bow'r my bosom be;
O Cupid! do thou pity me,
I will not wish to part from thee.

LODGE.

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