trivances of the Electric telegraph, we can communicate in a second of time our wishes or commands to immense distances. Recent improvements have enabled us even to print by electricity, and this at any interval of space, so that the Royal speech may be printed and distributed at the very ends of our island on the afternoon of its delivery. By it also, even portraits can be painted; so that if a criminal were on his flight, not only would electricity immeasurably outstrip him and carry the news to the terminus, but it might also be made to depict his correct likeness, and so infallibly secure his detection and arrest. The electricity of low intensity produced by means of the galvanic battery is now largely employed in multiplying casts of medallions and in overlaying articles of various kinds with silver and gold. A beautiful application of the same power, and one which affords us a pleasing evidence of the fact that electrical currents are constantly flying through the solid crust beneath our feet, is the Electrical clock. Mr. Bain has, by arranging plates in the earth, with connecting wires attached to them, conveyed away sufficient electricity from these currents to keep in constant and regular motion a clock of peculiar construction; and he proposes to regulate all

the clocks in a large city by this means, so that all should exhibit precisely the same time! In addition to the forces already enumerated, the powers of Magnetism and of Gravity bear in a particular manner importantly upon a variety of the chemical phenomena of nature. Into the consideration of these, however, we shall not enter.

Thus, standing on this point which commands a view of the whole of the scene * before us, we have found that a number of subtle principles or forces have been exhibited to us as concerned in the countless chemical phenomena which are taking place so silently and imperceptibly around, above, and beneath us. All nature owns the sway of light, heat, actinism, electricity, magnetism and gravity. Yet the

real constitution of every one of these powers is hidden from us. Philosophy is completely at a loss, when she is asked what are light, or heat, or any of the other active agencies enumerated. We can estimate and correctly describe their effects; but there we must stop. Many men of science in the present day appear to think they are all modifications of one principle; we have, however, much to learn before this can be rendered a probable, or at least, a satisfactory * See page 24.

view of the subject. It is a reflection full of consolation to the Christian mind to remember that all these agencies, so active in themselves, and so enormously powerful, are only subordinate instruments in the hands of an ever superintending God, the Creator, and can only do that which He pleases-fulfil that which He has first commanded. Other thoughts, however, and a new range of inquiry, await us.

CHAPTER II.

CHEMISTRY OF THE LAND.

STANDING on this elevated spot we may take a fair survey of the scene before us. All is still; the gentle breeze has died away, the air is now clear, and without a cloud, and the ear listens in vain to catch a sound, beyond the low and fitful rushing of those foaming waters, which, as they leave their rocky channel and flow through the fields beneath, again become silent, and roll noiselessly into the sea. The shepherd's flock lies under the shadow of the overarching elm-tree, the cattle are standing in the shady hollow by the river-side, and the cowherd himself stretches his lazy length upon the soft grass on the bank. These green meadows, so fresh and luxuriant in their appearance, seem asleep too. The humble and soberly-arrayed flowers which bedeck the soil, lift up their gaze to the light, and seem athirst for a refreshing shower.

Although it is midday, and every

F

object is bathed in sunshine, all is so quiet and so motionless, that the repose is like that of the deepest night.

We may return home, and on another opportunity revisit the spot. If we go in Autumn, we shall find that it has shed its golden tones of colour over hill and valley, the earth has yielded its increase, and the fields, bared of their waving burden, look empty and naked. If in Winter, the waterfall is hung round with pendants of ice, the surface of the river is hard and solid, and a white canopy of snow envelopes the whole face of the landscape. With these

natural changes we are made familiar by the continual round of the seasons; but beyond these, to the unscientific observer it would appear that all things continue as they were. From year to year the hard lineaments of the rocks, and the rounder figure of the hills, are as familiar to our eyes as are the well-known faces at the fireside, and the elastic sod seems in all respects the same as that on which we danced in childhood.

Is it, however, so in reality? Are there no changes taking place around us of a different kind to those of the seasons? In truth there are, and those of a most important kind. Chemical forces are in ceaseless operation, the tendency of which is to bring down to the dust of