lence of the waves in an advanced station, are an incontestable proof that the water is the inVader.

the main ocean by a narrow strait, the largest of which are the Mediterrranean and Baltic: for it does not appear probable to me, that the space now occupied by the former, was ever land, as Monsieur Buffou concludes, and was overflowed by an irruption of that element; but that it is a great rent in the globe, made at the fixation of the earth, it being very deep, some hundreds of miles above the straits of Gibraltar; but in those parts less mountainous, and the rising ground covered with rich deep loom, the excavations being less, were in time filled, and where the rents extended to the sea, they become estuaries; in these the sliding down of the soil has in many places caused the water to recede from their innermost parts and occupied its place; there are few estuaries, if they are not terminated im mediately by high lands, where the tide has not pushed itself further up than it does at present. I have been told by those who have dug deep by the side of a hill that is now the boundary of a piece of meadow land, at the

To prove that the sea does not diminish, let us examine the hardest rocks insulated by it, and rising a considerable height above its level, with sides nearly vertical, when the tide is at its lowest ebb. All that part left by the water will be found to be rough and corroded thereby, and that above the high-water line to project. Fish of the bivalvular kind something resembling the muscle, are often found to have perforated the rock some inches deep, which are to be seen by striking off the scurf from the part which the retreat of the sea has exposed. The projection immediately above the water, is a proof that the dashing of the waves consumes the rock faster than the atmosphere. Had the sea diminished, it would have left evident tokens of its retreat, should the atmosphere have dissolved the little protuberances, and worn the rock smooth, still the punctures made by the animals would have remained, and their depth have increas-head of one of these arms of the sea, that the

ed in proportion as their situation approached the surface of the sea. This to me is an irrefragable proof that the atmosphere does not descend towards the base of the rock, or in other words, that the perpendicular height of the sea does not decrease.

Furthermore, as all the land made or left by the sea must be perfectly flat, and little above its level; if these parts were gaining on it, they of course must be farthest advanced into that element, and the solid mountains in the rear. Most part of the shores of the contiments and islands should have sloping grounds of this description, just above the water, of considerable extent, but the real state of the ocean and earth, in contact with each other, is to this a direct contradiction.

As

But there are partial encroachments of the land on the sea, besides such as I have before attributed to the course of rivers, which may be accounted for in the following manner. most mountaincus parts of the globe at the time of fixation, were rended into the widest and deepest chasms, which soon became or were left filled with water, and their sides being rocky, and almost impervious to the attacks of the elements, there has not, even at this period, a sufficient quantity of solid matter slidden down to fill all of them; these are now lakes, or such seas as communcate with

* These remarks are drawn from observations made on the insulated lime-stone rocks iu Torbay.

rocks below had all the appearance of being washed by it here the increase of earth, by the common tendency of its particles to the centre, and continual decay of vegetables, had gained a particular elevation, superior to that of the general perpendicular rise of the whole ocean. †

But if there is a quantity of inflammable matter pent up in the interior, there may be a possibility, should air by any means be introduced, of its becoming explosive and emerge some of the land at this time beneath the sea, and absorb parts now above its surface; but as on this theory conjecture itself must look with hopeless eye, we cannot form an idea how air can gain admittance; for we know very little of the interior of the globe, the shell of rock may be a thousand miles through, and that more dense as it approaches the centre. The deepest caverns ever made by human industry advance not the one-hundredth part so near to that point as the thickness of the rind does to the middle of a large apple.

A. B.

Perhaps some idea may be formed of the universal rise of the ocean, since it was forced to withdraw from these parts, by comparing the topmost of the water-worn marks with the present high-water line on the neighbouring

coast.

OAKWOOD HOUSE.-AN ORIGINAL NOVEL.
(Continued from Page 245.)

LETTER XI.

TO MRS. BRUDENELL.

Oakwood, May 10, 1807. IT was not without reason, in giving you the character of Millichamp, that I men tioned his absence of mind. Yesterday he undertook to boil an egg for his breakfast; and when Mrs. Freeman entered the room, she found him boiling his watch, which he had taken out to mark the minutes necessary to cook his egg.

He is extremely fond of argument. Not as most persons are, in the hope of convincing their antagonist; nor, like a very few, for the possibility of being convinced themselves; nor yet to shew his learning or his penetration; but for argument's sake. He will urge every consideration he can think of against one's opinion, and draw out all one has to say in its defence, and then acknowledge it was his own from the beginning of the controversy. He assures as he once persuaded a methodist preacher that the stars were made of moons, cut in pieces. I told him I believed his solemn dignified manner, and the reputation of his profound learning came in aid of his arguments. He confessed it might be true; and thought they would have received additional weight from long flowing garments, or even a silk night-gown, a velvet cap, and morocco slippers. He offered to prove to me the possibility of the moon's being made of green cheese, notwithstanding the ridicule that whole generations had thrown on the idea; but I declined the dispute, telling him I was too poor an adversary to shew his talents, as I never went farther in an argument than a reply and a rejoinder.

He seldom attacks John Freeman, who will not bear a joke, and whose prejudices are sometimes stronger than his arguments; but it is his delight to draw in my brother.

“I have been reading," said I, last night Mrs. Wollstoncraft's Travels in Sweden, Nor. way, and Denmark. She has the heart and imagination of a woman, with the understanding and language of a man.”

"Why, said Millichamp, you cannot believe that men have stronger understandings than women, can you?"

They have stronger bodies," answered I; "and if I reasoned from analogy, I should suppose they had.”

"That argument is in my favour," said
No. XX. Vol. III.-N. S.

Millichamp, as facts will prove. We all know that women rule, and were born to rule men; and as it cannot be by superior strength, it must be by superior understanding. Spirit goes beyond strength; or man could never have tamed and ridden a horse."

"Man's understanding," said my brother, "has made the force of the horse subservient to his purposes. He invented the bit and the bridle; but his strength of arm is also necessary to restrain him, when the ingenuity of woman would avail nothing."

"Still is woman man's superior," said Millichamp; "for if man governs the horse, woman goveras the rider."

"But you men generally suppose we govern by our weakness," said I. "We appeal to your affections for support and kindness, and rule by making you believe we submit. One of you have said

"Nature for defence affords "Fins to fishes, wings to birds, "Swiftness to the fearful bares ; "Women's weapons are their tears." "You pay that compliment to our weakness we should try for in vain by strength

"I believe it will be found throughout the animal creation," said my brother," that whenever creatures associate or herd together, one will be master. Man is a stronger animal than woman, and therefore formed to be master. As Millichamp says, her spirit sometimes gets the better of her strength; sometimes even cunning will do it. When that is the case, she will commonly change places with him; but she had better be silent about it."

"Who can read the history of England," said John Freeman," and not believe that women are qualified to govern? Among our sovereigns, who was ever like Elizabeth ; careful of the nation's money, as well as its honour; feared abroad, and beloved at home?"

"If women are qualified to govern in theory," said Margaret, "you would not wish to see them put it in practice."

"Nature makes exceptions to all general rules," said my brother. "Elizabeth was oue. Though in assuming the peculiarities of our sex, she did not renounce those of her own. To a masculine spirit of domination, she joined the mean dirty jealousy of a woman; and the unfortunate Mary, Queen of Scots, fell ber

Q q

victim, because she could neither bear a rival | by God or man, sits so lightly upon me that I in beauty or in power."

"Mary Queen of Scots had plotted so much treason," returned John Freeman," that Elizabeth was obliged to bring her to the block, in her own defence. She could never have been safe while Mary was alive; and as one must die, it was only fair it should be the author of the mischief."

"That," said my brother, "is the reason given for the riots at Birmingham. The mob burat the meeting houses of the Dissenters, and the dwelling-houses of some of the inost respectable inhabitants of that persuasion; because, if they had not, the Dissenters would have burnt the Church. There is no abomination this mode of preventing evil will not sanction. In these two instances it has been the pretext of murder and incendiary."

I expected John Freeman's answer would not have been of the most conciliating kind; || for he adores Elizabeth almost as much as Oliver Cromwell; and before he could speak, I said,—“ I have always thought, though Eliza- || beth ruled her subjects with a rod of iron, she || descended to cajoleries that no man would have practised; and her good and beloved people themselves began to be weary of them. Yet certainly England was never, on the whole, better governed. If Elizabeth be compared with the tyrannical monster her father, or the weak Stuarts who succeeded her, she will be entitled to the highest praise."

"I will leave Elizabeth to you and Mr. Freeman," said Millichamp; but who "that has the happiness of beiug admitted into the society of Mrs. Oakwood and Margaret Freeman, but must acknowledge the superiority of

woman!"

"The present company is always excepted," said I, smiling. “It would not be fair to judge of mankind by you and my brother. We will say no more of superiority," added I; "but substitute the word difference. We will leave depth and solidity to you, and take quickness and fancy ourselves. You could no more create a beautiful landscape out of a piece of blank paper, by the help only of that pair of scissars, than Margaret could reason on the immortality of the soul."

"I pity Mrs. Wollstoncraft exceedingly," said Margaret; "for I too have a heart. But I am thankful that I have no brilliant imagination, or uncontrouled passions, to hurry me beyond the bounds prescribed by either nature or custom to my sex; it is no matter which, for custom is second nature. chain which galled her, whether it be imposed

The

never feel it."

"Mary Wollstoncraft's energy of mind and boldness of imagination, my dear," said I, are unparalleled in the female world. Her daring and ardent soul entertained ideas, and formed a plan unthought of, unattempted by woman. Her sufferings are a beacon to her sex, and if ever another Mary Wollstonecraft arise, she will not follow her steps. But ber writings will be admired when her errors shall be forgotten."

LETTER XII.

TO MISS CARADINE.

Oakwood, May 15, 1807.

WE have been thrown into the greatest consternation to day, by the following advertisement in Mr. Oakwood's London newspaper:~

"Whereas a tall thin gentleman, dressed in black, and mounted on a handsome dark chesnut horse, fifteen hands high, left London, on his way to the north, on or about the 29th of last March, and has not since been heard of; this is to desire him, if living, to give immediate notice to his friends. But, as he is subject to fits of absence, it is feared some misfortune may have befallen him; and, in that case, any person giving information concerning either bim or his horse, that may lead to a discovery of his fate, to the printer of this paper, shall receive fifty pounds

reward."

Mr. Oakwood, on reading this advertisement, came with the paper to our house; and, pointing it out, desired my father to read it. Having done so, he, with great silence and solemnity, put it into the hauds of Mr. Millichamp. As he read it, his features expressed curiosity and astonishment; and, could you think it possibie? as he ended, he burst into a violent fit of laughter. Not so your poor silly friend. When its contents were communicated aloud, I burst into tears; but such were the different emotions excited in the audience, that I hope they passed unnoticed.

"The day of reckoning is come," said my father; "what do you mean to do?"

"To write to my uncle instantly," replied Mr. Millichamp.

"Have you never written to him since you have been here?"

"I confess I have not."

"Did you forget?" said my father.

"This is a new kind of catechism," said Mr. Millichamp, smiling; "but I have my

in all that respects himself. I have gone further, for I have made many sacrifices to his usurpations in what concerned me alone. At last he assumes the power of telling me whom I shall love! a power I have not over myself. Whom I shall pass the remainder of iny days with; and how miserable must they be if I did not love! I set out at his bidding;

answers by heart. I did not wholly forget. | duty, gratitude, obedience; that is, obedience And I will anticipate your next question Why, then, did you not write?-by saying, at first I intended it every day; I then only intended it every second day; and for some time past, I have ceased to think of it at all." "You are surely to blame," said my father. "As your uncle means to leave you all his fortune, he has a right to know where you are." "I am indeed to blame," said Mr. Milli-willing, and even desirous to oblige him. I am champ. "I have repaid my uncle's kindness with neglect, and subjected him to anxiety on my account; but I would not do the smallest thing, for all his fortune, that I ought not to do without any part of it; and I have not exactly ascertained in my own mind the degree of right that one man has over another."

arrested by a higher power; I am charmed by the society of your family and of Mr. Oakwood's; and I will add, your society, Margaret. I feel incompetent to fulfil the engagement he has made for me, and I renounce it. || So far I have done right. My own mind acquits me. Now comes my fault. I should have told this to my uncle. I should have informed him of my determination to proceed no farther; and not have involved him in the uncertainty respecting my fate which has produced that extraordinary advertisement. For this, as I sincerely condemn myself, I have sincerely asked his pardon. I have not even urged in palliation of my error, as I justly might, the imperceptible influence of the motive which prompted me to disobey him, and the difficulty of explaining to him what I was not aware of myself."

My father, with all his notions of liberty,|| was going to reply with some bitterness, when Mr. Oakwood, seeing the matter becoming serious, said:" Let me write to your uncle, Millichamp, I shall get fifty pounds by you. Or I can send him your horse, and say you were drowned in fording the river; and you may pass the remainder of your life in this dale, without danger of being detected."

I thanked him in my heart. He put us all in good humour, and left us. Mr. Millichamp || sat down to write his letter, and I took my work into the garden, secretly hoping that, when he had done, he would follow me. In about half an hour he seated himself by my side. "Well," said I, "you have left undone those things you ought to have done; but I hope you have been doing them now. You have been writing to your uncle; and if I were not afraid of continuing my father's catechism, I should ask what excuse you could make for neglecting the errand he sent you upon, and not writing before."

"You cannot ask any thing I should not answer with pleasure. Your father's questions remind me of an old game of my childhood, questions and commands. Yours are of a softer nature, and I hope I shall not disgrace myself in your good opinion. My letter to my uncle is in as humble a style as your own gentle spirit could have dictated; but my dear Margaret, I never make excuses."

"I should be afraid of his displeasure,"

said I.

"I fear nothing," said he, "but doing wrong. His displeasure will be justice, and 1 shall bow before it; but I do not tremble at it. Let us go back a little. My uncle having no children of his own, adopts me; treats me as his son; perhaps loves me as his sou; for, I believe, if he had been a father, he would have been a tyrant. In return I owe him

"I will stay, then, for both ourselves, if your father do not turn me out. I have requested my uncle to write to me here; and you shall work or draw, and I will read to you in a morning; and we will walk with Mrs. Oakwood, our good mother, or aunt, in an afternoon and chat at the Hall in an eveuing; and be as happy as we have been." He theu put my arm in his, and we walked together into the house.

What am I to understand by this? Does Mr. Millichamp love me? I think he does. However, I will sit down quietly, and wait the event. How I dread this uncle! What reason have I to dread him, if, indeed, his nephew loves me! A country girl! a farmer's daughQ qe

THE NEW SYSTEM OF BOTANY,

WITH PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF FLORA, &c. &c. &c.