AUGUST XV.

DAMAGES WHICH MAY BE OCCASIONED BY RAIN.

A moderate quantity of rain always contributes to the growth and fertility of plants, and consequently is of great benefit to the earth. But when it falls with too great vehemence, or continues too long, it becomes hurtful to vegetables. When too violent, it forces the delicate plants into the ground; and its too long continuance prevents their growth. A superabundant moisture deprives them of the necessary degree of heat; the circulation of the sap is interrupted; the secretions are imperfectly performed, and the plants droop and are in danger of perishing.

But this is not the only way in which rain is prejudicial. It sometimes causes great destruction. When several clouds, driven by fierce winds, meet in their course high towers, mountains, and other elevated places, they break, and suddenly pour down the water they contain in torrents. This often occasions much damage; for water not being compressible, when it is much pressed it suddenly precipitates itself from mountains and other high places. It is not surprising then that it carries along with it the heaviest stones, beats down trees, and overthrows buildings. Two causes concur in rendering these effects more violent the great volume of water precipitated, and its rapidity, increased by the height from which it falls; the action of a moving body being in proportion to the mass of matter it contains, and the degree of velocity impressed upon it.

Water-spouts are still more formidable. In figure they resemble an inverted cone, whose base terminates in some cloud, whilst the point is directed towards the earth. These water-spouts attract and draw up every thing in their way, and afterwards dash them down in the torrent. If the point of this conical stream strikes the sea, the water boils, foams, and rises into the air with a terrible noise; and if it falls upon vessels or buildings, it shatters and throws down the one, and so violently shakes the other that they often founder. According to all appearance, this meteor is produced by the action of winds blowing in contrary directions, and which in their passage meeting with clouds, drive them with violence against each other. When these opposite winds strike a cloud on one side, they give them a circular motion, and make them whirl round with considerable velocity. They then take the form of a whirlwind, and their weight being suddenly increased by the force of pressure, they rush down with impetuosity, and in their fall assume the figure of a column, at one time conical, at another cylindrical, which turns round its centre with great velocity; and their violence is in proportion to the quantity of water, and to the rapidity of the descent.

Cataracts and water-spouts are always dangerous. Fortunately the latter very seldom occur on land, though they are frequent at sea. Mountainous countries are more exposed to cataracts than are those

situations which are more flat and level; and they so rarely happen, that many years often pass before even a few acres of ground are destroyed by them. Such are some of the disastrous effects produced by these phenomena: but the good man, far from murmuring and complaining when he hears the storm howling around him, or witnesses the dreadful devastation of the cataract, bows his head in humility, and acknowledges with grateful reverence the blessings he is daily permitted to enjoy; whilst these interruptions of the general harmony of nature are only partial evils, and very seldom happen. Let us then consider the works of God with humility and adoration, and endeavour to form just ideas of their magnitude and excellence. For, doubtless, infinite order, goodness, and wisdom always prevail, even where the limited faculties of man can discover no traces of their presence.

AUGUST XVI.

CARES OF ANIMALS FOR THEIR YOUNG.

That instinct which leads brutes to preserve their young is one of the most remarkable faculties with which nature has endued animals. We find scarcely any creature which abandons its eggs or its young to blind chance. Their love extends to their posterity in a very great degree, and operates in that way which is best adapted to their nature and different modes of living. Some of these little creatures, which are hatched from the eggs of fish and insects, have no need of being covered by their parent, because the heat of summer is sufficient to vivify and strengthen them; and from the first moment of their birth they are able to assist themselves, provided they are in a suitable place, and have provisions within their reach. The greater part of insects do not live long enough to see their young. Fish and amphibious animals cannot distinguish their young ones from those of the same species; and yet nature teaches them the best means of providing for the principal wants of new generations. Fish swim in shoals, and deposite their spawn near the coasts, where the water being shallow is more easily warmed by the heat of the sun, and where in consequence the young fry are more easily hatched, and obtain the requisite food.

Amphibious animals quit the water and deposite their eggs in the sand, that they may be hatched by the sun's rays; as if they were aware that their young would readily find their true element, and the place in which they are destined to live and seek their food. Gnats, and other insects, which come to life in water, but which afterward live in the air or upon the earth, always lay their eggs where the life of their young is to begin. Insects which fly above the surface of the earth, and which generally require no food for themselves, are, however, careful to deposite their eggs upon plants, fruits, flesh, and

other substances which will serve as nourishment for their young. Some of them pursue animals, and insinuate their eggs in their skin, hair, mouth, and entrails. Some animals deposite their eggs in nests and cells which they have prepared and stored with provision proper for their young. Other animals, which at the time of birth cannot help themselves, are taken care of by their parents.

How great is the solicitude of birds, even before they lay their eggs! Each species has its peculiar mode of constructing its nest. How assiduously and patiently they sit upon their eggs for some weeks, scarcely allowing themselves time to eat their food! With what care they keep their young warm after they are hatched, and supply them with the necessary food! What courage they display in defending them from harm, often exposing themselves to danger whilst protecting their helpless little ones! Is it not also a very remarkable instinct in animals that induces them to cut the umbilical cord of their young with their teeth, and with such precaution as to prevent any loss of blood? How tenderly do they suckle them, and how carefully do they guard them from danger.

In general the instinct of all animals for the preservation of their young, is stronger than the desire of satisfying their own wants. They suffer hunger and thirst, refuse sleep and all indulgence, and even expose their own lives, rather than neglect their offspring. In this instinct which nature has given to animals we may observe a most admirable wisdom; for the preservation of every species depends upon the cares of the parents. That viviparous animals should have so much tenderness for their young is not so very remarkable, because they are their own flesh and blood; but that oviparous animals should have an equal solicitude for their eggs is truly wonderful.

Adorable Father of nature! Who does not here perceive and admire thy wisdom? Who does not acknowledge thy goodness in watching over the preservation of the animal world; making it subservient to our wants and to our pleasures? May the eyes of all be opened, so as they may behold more clearly the wisdom which shines so beautifully in all the works of the creation!

AUGUST XVII.

SENSIBILITY OF PLANTS.

Certain motions may be observed in plants, which makes it probable that they are possessed of sensibility. Some plants shrink and contract their leaves upon being touched; others open and shut their flowers at certain fixed hours, so regularly as to denote with precision the time of day; some assume a peculiar form during the night, folding up their leaves: and these different changes take place whether they are in the open air or shut up in close apartments. Those which live under water, during the time of fecundation, raise their flowers

above the surface. The motions of a marshy plant discovered some time since in the province of Carolina are still more singular. Its round leaves are furnished above and on the sides with a multitude of notches that are extremely irritable. When an insect happens to creep upon the superior surface of the leaves, they fold up and enclose the insect till it dies; the leaves then open of themselves. We may daily observe regular motions in some plants in our gardens. Tulips expand their petals when the weather is fine, and close them again at sunset, or during rain. Vegetables with pods, such as peas and beans, open their shells when dry, and curl themselves up like shavings of wood. Wild oats, when placed upon a table, will move spontaneously, more especially if warmed in the hand. And the heliotrope, or sunflower, with various other plants, always turns towards the sun.

These are incontestable facts, of the certainty of which every person may be readily satisfied. From them, some have concluded that we ought not to deny sensibility to be an attribute of plants; and certainly the facts which are alleged in favour of such an opinion give it great appearance of probability. But, on the other hand, plants have no other sign of sensibility; and all that they have is entirely mechanical.

We plant a shrub, and destroy it, without finding any analogy between it and an animal. We see a plant bud, blossom, and bear seed, insensibly, as the hand of a watch runs round the points of the dial. The most exact anatomy of a plant does not unfold to us any organ which has the least relation to those of aniinal sensibility. When we oppose these observations to those from which we might infer the sensibility of plants, we remain in uncertainty, and cannot explain the phenomena related above. Our knowledge upon this subject is very imperfect, and is confined to simple conjecture. We can neither attribute sensibility to plants, nor deny it to them, with certainty.

Let us then rest satisfied with ascribing unto our Creator the glory that is his due; and be convinced, that whether plants have sensibility or not, whatever be the principle of the phenomena of which we have been treating, the arrangements of nature with respect to these and all other things are dictated by wisdom and infinite goodness. We have great cause to be content with the little we have yet discovered in the vegetable kingdom, though we were to learn no more; and though the particular point in question still remains obscure and doubtful, what we already know is sufficient to gratify our curiosity and inspire us with the love of God. Let us only endeavour with earnestness to apply the knowledge we already possess to useful purposes, without perplexing and entangling ourselves in the mazes of speculation, always more curious than beneficial; and without being anxious to obtain that information which our limited faculties do not permit us to acquire, and which it is perhaps reserved for future ages more enlightened to discover.

AUGUST XVIII.

FEAR OF STORMS.

At the season in which nature presents to our view the most delightful scenery, and every thing abroad conspires to procure us joy and felicity, there are some people who still murmur and complain. They say the summer would be very pleasant if storms did not so often disturb the harmony of nature, and stifle every sentiment of joy in the heart. This fear of storms and thunder is principally founded upon the opinion that they are the effects of the wrath of Heaven, and the ministers of an offended God. For if such people considered how much storms contribute to purify the air from various noxious exhalations, and that they increase the fertility of the earth; if they did but employ the necessary precautions to shelter themselves from the dreadful effects of thunder; storms would lose their terrors, and would be regarded as benefits, more calculated to inspire gratitude than terror.

It may however be objected, that thunder and lightning often occasion great devastation; that they have often struck men and animals, and destroyed towns and villages. To this we may reply, that in this, as in many other things, fear often increases the danger, and magnifies the evil. To be convinced how rarely it happens that people are killed by lightning, we have only to be informed that out of seven hundred and fifty thousand persons who died in London during the space of thirty years, only two were destroyed by lightning. We may also observe that during a thunder-storm the generality of people prolong their fears without any real necessity. He who has time to fear, and be alarmed at the effects of the lightning, is already out of danger; for as that is the only thing which can be fatal to us, the moment we have seen it, and remain unhurt, we are safe; as the roar of the thunder which soon follows, whether rolling at a distance, the peals break upon our ear, or bursting with a sound that seems to rend asunder the concave of heaven, immediately above our heads, is harmless as the echo that dies on the breeze.

If by reflecting upon the cause of these phenomena our fear does not subside, the surest means of preserving our firmness and strength of mind is by endeavouring to acquire a good conscience. The soul that is just and pure firmly relies upon the merciful goodness of his God, and calmly reposes amid the convulsions of nature. He hears, without dread, the thunder roll. His Creator, the God whom he loves and adores, directs it; and knows when to terrify, and when to strike with storms and tempests He sometimes visits the hardened soul of the impious wretch that dares to deny his power, and dishonour his attributes.'