IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 11.25 1^121 |25 ■SO ^^^ Hm itt I2i2 12.2 I? HA "^ 2.0 lii u 14.0 Hiotographic Sciences Corporation ¥j^ 1 •1>^ \ \ \ ^. ^-^^ i\ 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/ D D D 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 to« Tha oft lllni Ori( bog alor oth( alor oril D 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 aha TIN whi Mai diffi ^ rigli raqi mm 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 y 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. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 a Uti- -^ '^":'\n t 1 .>m :% IV. 7, if *: ]imu ri AND X.C * '■m \ n k ■i^; :** :M' # f^ ^^fj^^ 'Vttt INSTRUCTIVE READER; coHtiiTiiio or % IKHHUL INSTRUCTION) DESCRIPTIONS W NATURAL OBJECTS, PLACES) MANNBRl^ AND OTHER INSTRUCTIVB AND USI9UL INFORMATION VORTHlBVOUNO. :l^ B BY BEV. B. H. THOBNTON. ^ ^ .5^- ^r '7j: - i- IK: i^ 4ipK THORJUTON. .'Sk. ,) I ^f V ■•if *#m .*v^'^:* >\ w ^0 ■■■««■" .♦^ ^^•^ ■m §r I'-.L 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 : " 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 fenced, (Mac A a diHaacc froai Uw Pret^ leverat ,«rio».teTa oaaToidablr crep) iota tUir edMica, tbt «oitltapoctairt«rwatek'«r« aiMtoirat— ,*',■ *. >, 9tli Uae (Wnb tap, titt flroa frui, read r.om. 44,UUi •• u after plaat, tt in. St^lM - bottoai, for daiin, M ciaiMt. SI,Utk - « - J«d«4 U Jaa«>> M,Mt - M " cla#, • U 'ariac. S8.1Stk « top, •• MiTafft M Mlvedsew W.ftli " It • icabi. a MaMk .!», . •• Bkboa, w Xithon. IMkWi " fcottwa " telah, « Salah. 17t,llUi *• tCfb M JmBowwI •* Mtowaa iT4,in " ^?>- • *H, U' tit. tn,iA « « cww- m aoanM. tto,tt^ " bottaa « OMMce M Oravee. na^tartUat, , « AiO««. U jteMott. ?»,» " Vf. " ^•««r» »*■, miM^ • Bchool-Tmoher'a Mannalw tHTEODUeriOITt \ .% ' »»»r;rv«*iO G0NTBNT8. ■ii^M * l- r.r, .HJ, . ■ -■■' ■' ( r»; :' ■ S£:CTION t. ttlLlOlOUl Alio MOIUf. inTRVOTIOir. 1^*1* 1 3 4 5 t 6 t 7 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 S? 6* 66 67 68 68 C9 70 7B 74 77 78 79 83 85 86 89 90 92 93 95 96 98 100 104 105 106 107 110 112 Laws of VegeUtion «• 114 Th« Loeuit ••;;•••.. ••v*** ^^^ Tb« Sfiorfttoo ;;.;....««;«4«**« tit Th* Folly of Athtism, tliotrn fifom Nature. 180 «ECTr.» •••• .••• . .*•• •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 M. vm 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 Ji 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 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" IT 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 it 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 ^< '> 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^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«ww ttie.yrtiM|M»Miaiicawiii 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« 2 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-.>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 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. '*Brr 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 r# 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*; 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. u >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. » . ' <«. 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 Frse-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. 15 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- ."^ 16 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* 17 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 } IS 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. 19 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. *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^ w .* 39 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* M 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* 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 c 26 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. 27 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- 29 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^ S9 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." 30 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. 91 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 n 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* 3d 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^ ..^ M 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. 35 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. cowp6thing 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. 87 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 D *' n 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. 39 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. 41 •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 miMlk 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 Mi 44 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 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. it 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 4^ 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 ^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. 51 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. 52 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. &3 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. ' 60 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. 62 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 « 63 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 64 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. 65 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 66 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 fni8h 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, in >^^^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 1.1 ■tt Itt 122 S? |do 12.0 ll!iiiyiiu4 Sciences Corporation '^ \ ^'^' ^\ ^ /\^\ 23 WIST MAIN STiKT WIBSTIR.N.Y. 14SM (7I«) •73-4503 6S 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^ 69 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* to 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. 71 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 72 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. L^ 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* 73 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, G -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. 75 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 76 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« a 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*- ^ 7t UriTRI^OTlVl ABADtK. in •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. 7P 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 ' ! m 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 -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 a-'f- I ^M> fc* 84 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. *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 > > - A^ U !f -.-■■ ' ; I f y i t9|TI|i)DCTlv« It^AOSA* a,ii/$>«i^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 *r 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 ininn^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 90 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 91 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- - 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*. I 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^- 9^ INSTRUCTIVfi REAOpitr m- 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 '9 » •■ 4r -t *T% llWfWWnV»*»EAl)KS. ^ S7 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 I %: 98 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. 99 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, <' 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 > 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: 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. 4 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. :i 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 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?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- lU 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. XT m 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. A 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&. If 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 A 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 I 166 UriTRUCTITB RIADBV. I 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 •■!•■ ^ A^, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^^•^.o^ ^ 4^' 1.0 ^Ui ^ Hiotographic ScMices Corporation 23 WBT MAIN STRIIT WIKTn,N.Y. MStO (716) t72-4S03 !s m 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. H8 were nd the which lUmni- rith an ^e'tf beat tpparel, were lealed apon mat8.~^The bridegriB 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 w 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. up tup UrtTRVCTlTB . miADIB. I 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 H8 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. in 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. I I s 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. I A V A 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«.' tu INSTRUCTIVE RtADBS. w 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 ; I 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. c '• l^iHV. f, ■fe Should th« fig.tree'i blasted «noc( Drop her green untimely fruit : 9 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 Wh iktth Are While Obi Btfbaaid. d! 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.^. 'I \ 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* S s Y 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 •' 1 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 !" Vi 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. 1M 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 'I 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* AU Iclal I ki A 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 he 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 m >^ 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 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 1 >gs a irtj # .A I' 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 4 , ^ ^■;' 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" ^1 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. ,m 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«. V but town aider in xh into 1 said thati This he ne ous li impro letten tion Q preset him I Ment: the tit; By 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. y. 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 1 4. "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 * L 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 2n 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 tu IffSTRUOTIVI RIADBR. i 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. I: 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 to 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 V 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. i 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. fm 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 itering 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 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* f 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- ni 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. Ki r 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 nS> 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 uo llimUCTIYS RIADIII. I 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)teBII< 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. f 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 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. V 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^ (}^^-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 2M 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. MS 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. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) >.. -^J^* ■^ '/ FholDgFai^c Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STRKT WIBSTIR,N.Y. USM (7l6)«7a-4S03 m 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 U6 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 oUractid 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 HC la i^ M 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<
  • 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| * m 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 01 and' ^ uriTiit^OTif I tiitifr. 360^ M mm 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;:!"^?;-^ w nuts ^\ m m^m^w ij 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 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^^ m 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'$>iiril(e^dtK^^ ill artidtliafl^ weighed by the same weights; ftrt^filae^'it iMfeieikl 4«i^ taMgofiMa tfceilricnMM^^ or^klilMtkhid^ M^M'^J, Thia^ Oliver having two4if^ni( of vef|^ tfiiinil^ liln^li Afrlhi MW Wa s ty 0^th01heirl«^iiM(li mii^iMAmwmi^ %n VU»9Xmit9^ pl^i, i^WiJl ^^no9i .fn .wtiole^ 9r< ^10 poUmb weigl|li<^The ^c;coii4 l^ind ofleyer is tliaVlni w^ch the Ailctum w placed al, ^ e^tmmityi itv^ powor ii «pplted «t tha other, and the weiflJit to be raiaedV |Mtwe9»'t)ie fiilefiam thi power. Iq thi« IfBvef, the pQw^r gpMned'ia JiMlrie much the greaterj zn^ t^/dl8^Q99 >3tWMQ thei petntf at which the .pewer is apiplied^ aiui^the, ,Cn\o^^m$-j^ipiM$/6t than the distance be- tfveen the point, at which the weight is suspended aad^the r^q^uifi. ,^^wi, )e)t A F lepieseAt a lei»r df thii kkid, having f^filliiru^i, at the e«treinityiF» and aiibice'eppUed %t the ot^^r eiztijeinity A, for tne purpcM^ of raisingtK weight fpspei^e<| a^t P^be^wfeii, theott^er two parts.^ 3*1^111^^ causf tojo, point A/is,ff^Mff iiines at mucb removed; Aem F, the cenVre.pr utoUoiv as jthe poi«t iBiisy: il has ibtir tines i)ll. veilpcityi aadr -jj^aaBCA. ■ .,C -^^ iMua-jA 'ja» o:.--^i'*f ^r. ^hraugi^^Jlfirgw apacQ .,1, y,>i4^ .r*vr«> /"i >^wf« /lo^w^iq v:viJ^'>' tiqi|(Bth^;i$.p^iMf^inGyii^ r:L»t^Mmf^^ , opIt^ (o«M^paitp(;A$(!lf... |;-fc.f.^f|f Of !<^rM^^JiV i; Vi ; .^ir) ^,hei| ypujr9)s$,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^%Mpit;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' whtotW^ 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^ IT 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 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^ 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 ^ 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 ..., ^ ^^ l 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 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!(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. <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 Ar Liar Ard . Drunkarii Ary ■ Adversary Eer ' an agent, or om Ghariot«er £r who does a thing Builder Ist Psalmuf Ive Representative Or 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 k 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 Th Tude Sety'xtude Ty or ity Pover/y, brevity Ure. Lpgislature Y 1 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 Al / Autumna/ An Sylvan Ar Polar Ary £n ^off or pertaining to Parliamentary Golden Ic or ical Ange/tc or Angelica/ He 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 Y f Flowery Tsh ; 1 r as Childt'M Like 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- I ate ■ Densus, Ce//ttlar, full of cells I Deus, a Certify, to make sure 1 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 1 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- 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«C4y N&cto, 1 tie, nexus, tied Gonn«cf, to unite, ahMs Noceo,! hurt, nocensyburiful JVoviovi, hurtfoly innoicini t 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/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|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 V Mkth6ite, a setfolar, mathe- . slS| learriiag Meehanftb, i invent, me- ehanSj machine Metron, a measnre Micros, Utile Monos, alone b2 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 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 < ' 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 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 f. •TDMifMim inimtl Zoology, defcnption orkoi- -trt« •f )? • .,c V'*' ^^^•• *■■ -■ i m4 pUftofa obtaDi- ,'t %: ^ /i-H "T 6V' t ■r^^l!!o0 'M-yM'^-"* l^'^"'' in* 50 ,• ■titef .•^. ,s ^l»v. *; j :&q t ■rn'^-i>iii-,h^'i''t