welcome to her table; provided some proper clothing for him at once; and with a sweet smile, that added new pleasure to the offer, she proffered him a home beneath her humble cottage, until he should find one more congenial. The poor stranger accepted the favor of the kind-hearted widow, with becoming thankfulness, and remained under her roof a short time; but at length suddenly and mysteriously disappeared! Whither he had gone, his kind hostess knew not, and the rich Worthingtons took no pains to inquire. They were not a little delighted to be so easily rid of a 'poor relation,' who might have been a burthen, and a shame; but most of all was rejoiced the Hon. Benjamin Worthington, to whom the disclosure of his relationship had been so alarming.

Time passed on, and the disappearance of the mendicant was forgotten in the whirl of fashion, business, and pleasure; although the honorable elder brother was now and then visited by a painful recollection of the unfortunate' mark upon the arm of the returned wanderer.

It was a holiday in Weckford. Business was suspended, and the people were abroad, participating in the pastimes of the day. A superb carriage, with four white horses, and servants in livery, drove through Pleasant-street, and stopped at the Mansion-House,' the first hotel of Weckford. Parlors were taken in the name of Mr. Edmund Perley, and servants, from Scotland.' Forthwith it went upon the wings of rumor, that the rich Mr. Perley had arrived from Scotland.' As the Worthingtons were aware that the relations of their mother were reputed to be very rich in Scotland, they gathered to the hotel, in great numbers, to offer their respects, and solicit the pleasure of the Honorable Mr. Perley's acquaintance. Day after day did the Worthingtons, and all the descendants, down to the lowest contiguity of blood, pour into the Mansion-House,' to 'beg the honor of the rich and Honorable Mr. Perley's visits.' The carriage of the Hon. Benjamin Worthington' was out from the Oaklands, and the barouche of Edward Worthington, Esq.' from the 'Worthington Mansion.' There was neither end to the family outpouring, nor to their solicitude to bestow attentions. The stranger was polite in his replies; and at last, in return, he invited all his kind relatives to honor him at his levee, at the Mansion.' There never was such an outpouring of Worthingtons. great halls of the Mansion-House' were filled to repletion. All was gayety, beauty, and fashion. It was a magnificent assemblage of the richest and most respectable families of the town; and each one was most anxious to outstrip the others in doing honors to 'the rich and distinguished Mr. Perley, from abroad;' when the 'poor relation' made his appearance, in the midst of the brilliant assembly, dressed in precisely the same clothes in which he wandered through the village, and holding in his hand the same uncouth stick, cut from the wilds, which supported his feeble steps from house to house!

The

It would be impossible to delineate the various countenances which were there exhibited. We must leave the filling up of that picture to the imagination of the reader. It is only necessary to

1837.]

Stanzas

To a Belle.

497

add, that the stranger was the long-lost Thomas, who had made an immense fortune in the Indies. He now immediately took steps to carry out the will of his beloved parent, receiving all the property it gave him. In the year following, he purchased the delightful retreat of Auburn Grove,' where he erected a charming residence. He soon after led to the altar the amiable and affectionate young widow, Mrs. Amelia Perley, who was not too proud to welcome him to her humble cottage, as a relative of her departed husband, even though he appeared there in the borrowed tatters of poverty and misfortune. It was a lesson which is often repeated by the villagers at Weckford, and will do no harm by being repeated elsewhere.

'Flowrets, that shine like small blue stars in the green firmament of the Earth.' —

SPAKE full well, in language quaint and olden,
One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he call'd the flowers so blue and golden
Stars, that in Earth's firmament do shine.

Stars they are, wherein we read our history,
As Astrologers and Seers of Eld;
Yet not wrapp'd about with awful mystery,
Like the burning stars which they beheld.

Wondrous truths, and manifold as wondrous,
God hath written in those stars above;
But not less in the bright flowrets under,
Stands the revelation of his love.

Bright and glorious is that revelation,
Written all over this brave world of ours,
Making evident our own creation,

In these stars of earth, the golden flowers.

And the Poet, faithful and far-seeing,
Sees alike in stars and flowers a part
Of the self-same universal being

Which is throbbing in his brain and heart.

Gorgeous flowrets, in the sun-light shining,
Blossoms flaunting in the eye of day,
Tremulous leaves, with soft and silver lining,
Buds that open only to decay!

Brilliant hopes, all woven in gorgeous tissues,
Flaunting gaily in the golden light,

Large desires, with most uncertain issues,
Tender wishes, blossoming at night!

These in flowers and men are more than seeming;
Workings are they of the self-same powers,

Which the Poet, in no idle dreaming,

Seeth in himself and in the flowers.

Every where about us are they glowing;
Some like stars, to tell us Spring is born,
Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing,
Stand like Ruth amid the yellow corn.

Not alone in Spring's armorial bearing,
And in Summer's green-emblazon'd field,
But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing,
In the centre of his brazen shield.

Not alone in meadows and green alleys,
On the mountain-top, and by the brink
Of sequester'd pools, in woodland valleys,
Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink.

Not alone in her vast dome of glory,

Not on graves of bird and beast alone;
But in old cathedrals, high and hoary,
On the tombs of heroes, carv'd in stone.

PERHAPS the most important benefit resulting to mankind from the study of the natural sciences, is the invention to which it leads of new arguments in favor of the being and benevolence of the Deity. And were this the only advantage arising from this study, it would render it well worthy the attention of the wisest and greatest of men. For every discovery which philosophers have hitherto made, whether of some new material element, or of some law or property of matter, has invariably disclosed fresh proof of the existence of an All-wise Intelligence. The chemical constitution and governing laws of a drop of water, even so far as they are now understood, may afford weapons, wherewith the weakest champion of religion might prevail against the most ingenious of the worshippers of the Goddess of Chance. Nay, were the atheist really in search of truth, no champion would be needed. The humblest flower, the meanest worm, even the dust beneath his feet, would seem to disclaim an origin in chance, and to warn him not to neglect the worship of their common Creator.

There can be no more interesting object of attention, than the examination of the evidences of design, as exhibited in parts of the intricate machinery of Nature. Physical principles, which, at first sight, or indeed after much philosophical investigation, have appeared of but limited importance, or perhaps wholly accidental or unnecessary, have, upon farther study, been found to rank among the number of most beautiful and convincing proofs of creative intelligence; have formed the most important links in the chain which holds together the material universe.

Such has been the train of thought suggested to the mind of the writer of this article, by an examination of the nature and physical relations of COLOR. This property of matter might appear to a superficial observer as one of inferior importance. He would admit that the differences of color add to the happiness of the human race, inasmuch as they give variety and beauty to material objects, and afford one of the most easy methods of distinguishing them from each

The Floral Games of the Middle Ages.

other, but would probably deny that the existence of animal life is at all dependant upon color, and that it is essential to the present constitution of things. But let such an one reflect a little more upon this property let him consider attentively all its relations - and he will doubtless change his opinion.

In travelling from the equator toward the poles, we cannot but be - struck with the fact, that there exists a difference of color corresponding to a change of climate. Under the equator, the covering of the earth, that is, the vegetation, is darker than in any other part of the globe; and, as there is but little change of climate through the year, this dark covering does not give place either to the light tints of autumn, or to the snowy robe of winter. In advancing north, the foliage becomes lighter in proportion to the increase of latitude. In the temperate zone, the dark, rich robe of the tropics gives place to one of livelier hue, which, after covering the earth during a part of the year, assumes the light colors of decay, and is buried beneath the snow. Thus this change continues to keep pace with the diminution of temperature, till we enter the frigid zone, and reach the region of eternal frost.

From this difference of color in the north and south, and in summer and winter, we may deduce this general fact, that the earth adapts itself in color to the variations of temperature, presenting a dark surface to the heat of summer and the tropics, and a light one to the cold of winter and the frigid zone.

So much then for the fact. Let us now consider the design of such an arrangement. When a body contains more caloric than the air, or the other bodies by which it is surrounded, heat is given off from it in all directions, till the equilibrium is restored. Three, and perhaps more, physical operations take place in this case; radiation from the heated substance, reflection and absorption by the surrounding bodies. Now it has been proved, by repeated experiment, that these changes depend, as it regards their extent and rapidity, upon the color of the bodies. The more light-colored the heated substance is, the more slowly will it part with its superfluous caloric. Were it entirely black, the change would take place with more rapidity than in any other case. If the surrounding bodies were of a light color, a large portion of the heat radiated upon them would be reflected, and but little absorbed. Just the contrary would take place were they dark. The caloric would nearly all be absorbed, and but little reflected.

Similar to these are the phenomena of light. Bright substances reflect, and dark absorb, the rays from a luminous body. This, however, is hardly a correct method of expressing the fact intended. Philosophers believe that darkness of color is not the cause of the absorption of the luminous rays, but, on the contrary, that this absorption is the cause of the darkness. The fact in question then is this; some bodies are of such a chemical constitution, that they readily absorb light, and, as a consequence, little being reflected to the eye, they appear dark. Others, differently constituted, reflect nearly all the light that is thrown upon them, and, therefore, the lightness of their color bears proportion to such reflection.

Let us apply these facts to the explanation of the design of the