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

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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 animal 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.

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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 dis honour his attributes,'

AUGUST XIX.

SUMMER PRESENTS US WITH IMAGES OF DEATH.

A few weeks ago, when we walked in our gardens, we were surrounded with the most beautiful and pleasing objects, and every thing raised emotions of joy in our hearts. But now, every day diminishes the number of pleasing objects, or renders their appearance more uniform. The greatest part of the flowers which then beautified our gardens have disappeared, and we begin to have only faint traces of the once charming scenes which so ravished our senses. These revolutions in nature may be very instructive to us. There is a period in our lives in which all the charms of spring make gay and happy our moments, that swiftly glide away, whilst we are beloved and caressed by parents, fondly solicitous for our welfare, and anxiously expecting from our future conduct the rich fruit of all their tender cares. But how often is this hope deceived! Many a sweet floweret falls before the blossoms expand. Sickness withers our charms, and nips our opening beauties; and an early death changes hope into the gloom of despondency.

We see spring flowers which bloom till summer, then perish in a few hours. A very striking emblem of death! And scarcely a day passes in which some human being is not unexpectedly and without warning met by the unsparing messenger. The days of man are as the grass; he flourisheth as a flower of the field: the wind bloweth upon him and he is gone, and the place that knew him knows him

no more.

We are now in that season in which the fervent rays of the sun induce us to seek repose in the refreshing shade of the groves. These cool sequestered retreats are favourable for serious reflection; and our thoughts will there sometimes be directed to the awful solemnity of the grave, where the just will be received as into a safe harbour from the tossings and dangers of a life of care and trouble.

The reaper prepares to cut down his corn; the sickle levels the tall ears on the right and on the left, and leaves behind it the fields empty and deserted. This is a just emblem of life: all flesh is as grass, and all the glory, all the honours and duration of life, as the flowers of the field: like them man flourishes for a time; and, when the Lord of the harvest ordereth, falls under the scythe.

Let us imitate the activity and industry of the bees; and as they are busied in collecting and preparing their honey from every flower that scents the air, may we also be ever diligent in amassing those treasures of wisdom and virtue, which will be our delight when age presses heavily upon us, and our great consolation in the final separation of the soul from the body!

The husbandman will soon assemble to collect the fruits of the earth, and deposite them in their granaries. The days of harvest are the most important of any in the year: but how much more solemn