We in its measured notes may often scan Some passing scene of which it seems to tellSome tale which marks the destiny of man. Hark! how its merry, noisy, gladsome notes Are chiming forth in peals both loud and wild, Wakening the echoes; it to all denotes

A hearty welcome to the new-born child.

Again its cheerful sound falls on the ear,
And ushers in the happy bridal morn―
Tells of fond hearts (to form a tie most dear
Now from all earlier ties for ever torn.)

Sweet sound the Church bells on the Sabbath day,
There seems a sweetness in the Sabbath air,-
Wafting their melody, it seems to say,
"For the great Sabbath of thy soul prepare!"

Forth from the old grey tower again ascends,

In altered note, the slow funereal toll!— The mournful sound which tells of severed friends, And of the solemn exit of a soul!

J. H.

JUDGMENT APPLIED TO EDUCATION.

MANY A MAN, by crossing his child's natural disposition, has caused himself an aching heart; besides contributing largely to his child's unhappiness.

The first step in early education should be, a consideration of what a pupil is really fitted for. The human head is so formed, that the point may not be so difficult to ascertain as some imagine. The natural inclination, too, develops itself at a tender age.

If we would have our children to excel, we must work by rule. Excellence, as a sensible writer remarks, no matter in what department, must be the child of an ardent general predilection. It can never be the offspring of qualities, however eminent, constrained from their native bias. We must all admit this.

It is laudable, therefore, to encourage, as far as may be, the eccentricity which forms the principal virtue of the human character: There is propriety in fanning the vital spark of originality into flame; and watching and guarding it, until it warms and invigorates its whole neigborhood. It is judicious to remove every obstruction to the well-being of those kindly indications of future and novel splendor, which are capable of charming, even in their infantine state.

It is well done of the father, when arranging the entrance of his children on the stage of life, carefully to consult their sentiments as to what are the desirable situations of its

eventful drama. Should he exert his authority in direct opposition to their wishes, the result, it may be safely predicted, will

be shame to them, and sorrow to himself. But should he adopt their ideas, and make them the partners of his own thoughts and hopes; should he resolve to give assistance to the ardent conceptions of youth, he will in all probability experience the rare happiness of witnessing in his family the felicitous union of rectitude, prosperity, and genius.

The scheme of our lives is drawn by a celestial artist. It is our part to see it executed. A heavy responsibility attaches to those who show neglect in this important

matter.

LIFE'S PAINFUL REALITIES,A SCENE AT NIAGARA.

WE ARE TOO OFTEN DOOMED-once at least in the course of our lives-to witness some painful scene, the impression caused by which never can be effaced from the memory. We have ourself beheld scenes from which even now the mind recoils with horror.

Of all the recorded casualties of life, however, none surely can exceed in the intensity of interest it excites in the perusal, the following. It is a carefully condensed history of a scene which recently was witnessed at Niagara. We register it here, with a view of showing on what a slender thread our life sometimes hangs :

Three men recently went boating on the river. *** The boat was swept towards the "falls," overturned, and two of the party were whirled into the boiling surge.

The third, a man named Avery, caught on some A log of wood, apparently wedged tightly between rocks not far from the dreadful precipice of foam. the rocks, and crossed by another, still higher out of the water, was his resting-place. Here he remained, half clinging to and half perching upon the log, from which he would occasionally slip down and walk a little on the rocks, which were only a short distance under water.

A few feet in advance was a small fall of about four or five feet, and here and on each side of him the waters rushed wildly on, at a speed of about formed of crossed timbers, strongly fastened in a A raft was constructed, forty miles an hour. square form, a hogshead being placed in the centre. The raft was strongly secured with ropes on each side, and was floated down to the rocks upon which Avery was stationed. As it approached the spot where he stood, the rope got fast in the rocks; and the raft became immoveable. Avery then appeared to muster strength and courage, and descending from the log, walked over the rocks to the place hard to disengage it from the rocks. where the rope had caught, and labored long and

renewed energy, inspired by the hope of rescue, After some time he succeeded; and then, with he pulled manfully at the rope, until he succeeded in bringing the raft from the current towards his fearful resting-place. Avery now got on to the raft, making himself fast thereto by means of ropes,

which had been placed there for that purpose, and those on the land commenced drawing it towards the shore. It had approached within thirty feet of one of the small islands, towards which its course was directed, when suddenly it became stationary in the midst of the rapids, the ropes having again caught in the rocks. All endeavors to move it were found to be in vain, and much fear was entertained that the strain upon the ropes might break them, and occasion the poor fellow's loss.

Various suggestions were now volunteered, and several attempts were made to reach him. One man went out in a boat as far as he dared to venture, and asked him if he would fasten a rope round his body, and trust to being drawn in by that. The poor fellow, however, shook his head despondingly, as though he felt that he had not strength enough remaining to make himself secure to a rope. At length a boat was got ready-a life-boat, which had arrived from Buffalo-and was launched.

Seeing the preparations, Avery unloosed his fastenings, with the intention of being ready to spring into the boat. Borne on by the rushing waters, and amid the breathless suspense of the spectators, the boat approached the raft. A thrill ran through the crowd-the boat lived in the angry waves-it struck the raft-a shout of joy rang forth from the shore, for it was believed that he was saved-when suddenly the hope that had been raised was again destroyed. A moment's confusion followed the collision, and in the next, the victim was seen in the midst of the waters, separated from his frail support, and struggling for life.

For a minute or two the poor fellow, striking out boldly, swam towards the island, and the cry echoed from shore to shore that he would yet be saved. But soon the fact became certain that he receded from the shore-his strength was evidently failing. Gradually he was borne back into the fiercest part of the current; slowly at first, then more rapidly. Swiftly and more swiftly he approached the brink of the fatal precipice, the waters had him at last their undisputed victim, and madly they whirled him on to death, as though enraged at his persevering efforts to escape their fury.

A sickening feeling came over the spectators, when, just on the brink of the precipice, the doomed man sprang up from the waters, clear from the surface. Raising himself upright as a statue, his arms flung wildly aloft, and, with a piercing shriek that rang loudly above the mocking roar of the cataract, he fell back again into the foaming waves, and was hurled over the brow of the fatal precipice.

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*

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The melancholy and awful fate of poor Avery will add another to the many fearful local incidents already related by the guides at the Falls, and for years his critical situation, his hard struggles, his fearful death, will be the theme of many a harrowing tale. And visitors to the mighty cataract will seek the scene of the terrible catastrophe with a shuddering curiosity, and the timid and imaginative will fancy, in the dusk of the evening, that they still hear above the waters' roar the fearful shriek that preceded the fatal plunge.

WOMAN'S LOVE.

WOMAN's love is like a rock,

Firm it stands, though storms surround it; Like the ivy on the rock,

E'en in ruin clinging round it. Like the moon dispelling night,

Woman's smiles illumine sorrow; Like the rainbow's pledge of light,

Harbinger of joy to-morrow.

Like the swallow, when she's seen,
Pleasure's blossoms never wither;
Herald of a sky serene,

Woman brings the summer with her.
Like the roses of the brake,

Precious though their bloom be faded; Like the bosom of the lake,

By reflected darkness shaded. Like a picture truly fine,

Half her beauty distance covers,— Touches of a hand divine

Every nearer view discovers. Like the stream upon the hill,

Unconfin'd it runs the purer; Like the bird, a cage will kill,

But kindness win, and love secure her. Like the sun dispensing light,

Life, and joy on all that's human,—— Ever fixed, and warm, and bright, IS THE LOVE OF FAITHFUL WOMAN.-E. HI.

The same German, speaking of English goodness, says, "The extreme prudery of the women is put out of countenance by the lowness of their evening dresses." He has us there, too! Fas est ab hoste doceri. Had the same remarks been made by an Englishman, they would have savored of ill-nature. But recorded as they are by a foreigner, they carry weight with them. We are a

WOMAN'S SMILE.

As when the rose we cherish'd
Lies wither'd on the plain,
Her leaves, tho' pale and perish'd,
Sweet odor still retain;

As when a song is ended,

Its music haunts the ear; As when the Sun's descended, Light lingers o'er his bier; So WOMAN's brow, when faded, Still shines on Memory's stream: The smile that Time has shaded, Gilds Fancy's darken'd dream.

Ambition's footsteps falter,

And Passion's waves expire; Time strews the world's dark altar With ashes of Desire.

But WOMAN's smile for ever
Returns upon our dream:
Once felt, the soul can never
Forget Love's morning beam!

ILLUMINATION OF THE SEA.

YOU GAVE US, MR. EDITOR, some very interesting particulars last month (page 27), about the various colors imparted at certain times to the waters of the great deep.

I

Connected with the same subject, I observe some additional remarks recorded by Mr. Gosse, in his "Rambles of a Naturalist." have copied them, and beg to crave a corner for their insertion in OUR JOURNAL:

I was coming down lately, says Mr. Gosse, by the steamer from Bristol to Ilfracombe in lovely summer weather. Night fell on us when approaching Lynmouth; and from thence to Ilfracombe, the sea, unruffled by a breeze, presented a phenomenon (of no rare occurrence indeed to those who are much on the water, but) of unusual splendor and beauty. It was the phosphorescence of the luminous animalcules; and though I have seen the same appearance in greater profusion and magnificence in other seas, I think I never saw it with more delight or admiration

than here.

Sparkles of brilliance were seen thickly studding the smooth surface, when intently looked at, though a careless observer would have overlooked them; and as the vessel's bows ploughed up the water, and threw off the liquid furrow on each side, brighter specks were left adhering to the dark planks, as the water fell off, and shone brilliantly until the next plunge washed them away. The foaming wash of the furrow itself was turbid with milky light, in which glowed spangles of intense brightness. But the most beautiful effect of the whole, by far, and what was novel to me, was produced by the pro

jecting paddle-boxes. Each of these drove up from before its broad front a little wave, continually prolonging itself, which presently curled over outwardly with a glassy edge, and broke.

It was from this curling and breaking edge -here and there, not in every part, that there gleamed up a blueish light of the most vivid lustre; so intense that I could almost read the small print of a book that I held up over the gangway. The luminous animals evidently ran in shoals, unequally distributed; for sometimes many rods would be passed, in which none or scarcely any light was evolved, then it would appear and continue for perhaps an equal space. The waves formed by the summits of the swells behind the ship continued to break, and were visible for a long way behind, as a succession of luminous spots. Occasionally, one would appear in the distant darkness, after the intermediate one had ceased; bearing no small resemblance, as some one on board observed, to a ship showing a light by way of signal.

While on this subject, I will mention the charming spectacle presented by some of the Sertularian zoophytes, in the dark. Other naturalists, as Professor Forbes, Mr. Hassal, and Mr. Landsborough, have observed it before me; and it was the admiration expressed by them at the sight, that set me upon witnessing it for myself. I had a frond of Laminaria digitata, on whose smooth surface a populous colony of that delicate zoophyte Laomedea geniculata had established itself. I had put the frond into a vessel of water as it came out of the sea, and the polypes were now in the highest health and vigor in a large vase in my study. After nightfall I went into the room, in the dark; and taking a slender stick, struck the frond and waved it to and fro. Instantly one and another of the polypes lighted up, lamp after lamp rapidly seemed to catch the flame, until in a second or two every stalk bore several tiny but brilliant stars; while from the regular manner in which the stalks were disposed along the lines of the creeping stem, as before described, the spectacle bore a resemblance sufficiently striking to the illumination of a city; or rather to the gas-jets of some figure of a crown or V.R., adorning the house of a loyal citizen on a gala-night; the more because of the momentary extinction and re-lighting of the flames here and there, and the manner in which the successive ignition appeared to run rapidly from part to part.

It has been a question whether the luminosity of these polypes is a vital function, or only the result of death and decomposition. I agree with Mr. Hassal in thinking it attendant, if not dependent, upon vitality. colony of Laomedea, in the preceding experiment, was still attached to its sea-weed; and

The

this had not been washed up on the beach, but was growing in its native tide-pool when I plucked it. It had never been out of water a single minute, and the polypes were in high health and activity both before and after the observation of their luminosity.

The above graphic sketch harmonises nicely with the paper you have before inserted. I have myself witnessed the ocean in a state of luminosity, and therefore take pleasure in seeing the causes of it popularly explained.

W. E.

THOUGHTS ON A FEW DROPS OF WATER.

THE RELATION THAT WATER HAS to all bodies endowed with life, in whatever shape they may appear to us, is very considerable, and embraces an extensive science.

Water being the vehicle by means of which nourishment is conveyed into plants, and the means through which nutriment becomes a part of the animal tissue, it follows that this element is of the highest importance, both in the animal and vegetable kingdoms.

It is impossible to determine with any degree of precision, the relative quantity of water and solid substances in animals and vegetables. Some distinguished experimenters believe that there are at least 6-7 water in animals, and a more considerable portion in vegetables than would at first be imagined. The vegetable and animal economy are continually changing. Consequently, this great menstruum is necessary to carry on the work of building up and tearing down, for subserving a purpose then becoming unfit for use. In the form of perspiration, some plants-for instance, the cabbage, transmit daily a quantity of water, nearly equal to half their weight this takes place from the underside of the leaves; and man perspires, on an average, at least 28 pints per day. Hence renovation with this fluid is so necessary, and extreme thirst so painful.

:

We cannot but be struck with the sublime character of this extensive and beautiful circle of action, to which, in part, the specimen before us is subject; and by which such a variety of important purposes are accomplished. The vast range it embraces is wonderful. Once, this little example may have been floating high in the aërial regions, presenting all the beauties of a crystalline state, or in infinitely small particles, collected in large heaps, called clouds at another time, penetrating the bowels of the earth, collecting the many minerals, with which it is impregnated, in the fountain. At one time it was mingling with the waters of the great deep, and occasionally, wafted by winds and currents out into fathomless regions-at another, bursting out from some of the springs or fountains which are found in every section of the globe, placed

there to meet the immediate wants of its inhabitants. At one time it was raisedup from the sea, in the form of an invisible gas, and in an insensible manner-at another time descending in showers, to water the fields which are prepared for it by the sweat of the brow.

In the ocean, it assisted in supplying the wants of the million of millions of its inhabitants;-on the land, it must have assisted in quenching the parching thirst of unnumbered millions, the lives of whom have long since passed their scene of action here. So adapted is the means to the great end!

Who dares deny that this shows the design of a great, intelligent First Cause?

THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON.

IT IS AN ASCERTAINED FACT that there are three classes of lunar mountains. The first consists of isolated, separate, distinct mountains of a very curious character. The distinguishing characteristic of these mountains is this: they start up from a plain quite suddenly.

On the earth it is well known that mountains generally go in ranges or groups; but we find these isolated lunar mountains standing up entirely apart, never having been connected with any range. The one named Pico, is 9,000 feet high. This mountain has the form of an immense sugar-loaf; and if our readers can imagine a fairly-proportioned sugar-loaf, 9,000 feet in height, and themselves situated above it so as to be able to look down upon its apex, they will have an approximate idea of the appearance of Pico.

There are many other mountains of a similar description scattered over the moon's surface; and these mountains not only stand apart from each other, but what is still more remarkable, the plains on which they stand are but slightly disturbed. How singular, then, the influence that shot the mountain up 9,000 feet, and yet scarcely disturbed the plain in the immediate neighborhood! The second class of lunar elevations consists of mountain ranges. Now this is the principal feature of the mountains on earth. They are rarely found associated in any other manner than in vast ranges. This phenomenon is also found in the moon, but there it is the exception; only two principal ranges are found, and these appear to have been originally one range. One is called the Appennines. It is so well seen, that just as the line of light is passing through the moon, you will think it is, generally speaking, a crack in its surface; but a telescope of ordinary power will at once manifest it to be a range of mountains.

The lunar Appennines may be compared with the loftiest ranges of mountains upon

The communication we allude to is entitled "Notes on the Indigenous Plants of Melbourne;" and it will be perused with delight | by all who feel interested in that now important country.

The article we select is slightly abridged from "Notes on the Heron," by W. G. Johnstone, Esq. We quite agree in opinion with him, in considering a heronry an interesting sight. His ramble is introduced thus:

It was a delightful morning, the 4th of April, when we awoke, our thoughts intent on the pilgrimage about to be performed, to see for the first time not only a Heronry, but one situated in that small lake where steam, as applied to propelling vessels, was first tried, and that successfully. The place in itself is surpassing lovely, embosomed amongst slightly undulating green hills, with those of a sterner cast in the back ground, clothed to their summits with the Tasselled Larch (Larix), and our hardy native Pine (Pinus Sylvestris); and extending again beyond these may be seen the heath-clad mountains, where, in the words of the poet,

"The martyrs lie; Where Cameron's sword and his bible are seen, Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green."

their choice of any species of tree. I could not be sure of how many birds there were, but I believe there would not be fewer than eighty to ninety-forty or forty-five pairs; but from the screaming way they fly about when one intrudes on their domains, it is no easy matter to count them. Though the nests are more numerous than the birds I have stated, there might be, as I have no doubt there were, some of them old and untenanted. The nests I observed are all placed, if not on the very summit of the trees, at least as high as may be, and on the extremity of the their nests, for did branches intervene, they would branches-no doubt that they may get easily into have difficulty in so doing; it is a most ludicrous sight to see their long legs twirling about like as many churn-staves before descending into their

nests.

Before the Herons got established in their possessions, they and the Rooks had a severe, or rather a series of severe battles; but Mr. Heron came off victorious, and now woe to the poor Rook who ventures on the island! I have heard it stated that the legs of the Herons might be seen out of the nest behind, while sitting; this is not the case. of the Rook's, in many cases no larger; the eggs, The nest is formed very much like that generally three in number, are of a beautiful green color, varying somewhat in shape, but about the size of the domestic fowl's; some of them are ovate, pointed at the lower end, others are pointed at both ends. I noticed many of the male birds with splendid crests, others of them very small; it may be that some never have that appendage so full as others, or that the latter are younger birds, for at least two years are required to perfect the Heron's plumage.

Altogether a Heronry is a most interesting sight, no less from its novelty than a romantic beauty peculiarly its own. We wonder much to hear of parties having such in their possession, destroying them. The birds do no injury, their food consisting of eels, frogs, and the like; indeed they only establish themselves in the vicinity of waters where such are to be found, and are more benefit than otherwise. Rookeries are allowed and cherished-aye, noisy Rooks-and why not the gentle Heron-a more interesting bird we have not on our island; one, too, associated with by-gone days, when the cry used to be at dawn of day

We may note here, that Part 20 of" Morris' Natural History of the Nests and Eggs of British Birds," and also Part 39 of the "History of British Birds," by the same author, are just published. They are, as usual, highly interesting, and the engravings nicely colored.-ED. K. J.

"Waken Lords and ladies gay, &c."

Up in the mornings no for me."

It may be well also to state that several pairs of Herons have this year, for the first time, built their nests in a wood at a short distance from the lake, not certainly for want of room on the island; "but every man to his humor," as Shakspeare says.

Having said so much regarding the Heronry, we must take notice of four other friends claiming our attention. Two by their restless activity, the Water-hen, and the Coot; two by their subdued quiet beauty, the Wild Duck, and the lovely little Teal. The two former breed on and around the lake; the two latter disappear about this time, returning again generally in the course of a few months with a goodly addition to their numbers.