The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rural Magazine, and Literary Evening Fire-Side, Vol. 1 No. 12 (1820)
    
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Title: The Rural Magazine, and Literary Evening Fire-Side, Vol. 1 No. 12 (1820)

Author: Various

Release date: April 27, 2015 [eBook #48812]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RURAL MAGAZINE, AND LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE, VOL. 1 NO. 12 (1820) ***




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Transcriber's Note: Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

Small capital text has been replaced with all capitals.

Minor typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
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The first pages of Volume 1 No. 12 are incorrectly numbered 241 to
280, rather than 441 to 480; the numbers following 280 begin at 481.
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previous issues.

       *       *       *       *       *




  THE
  RURAL MAGAZINE,
  AND
  LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE.

  VOL. I. PHILADELPHIA, _Twelfth Month, 1820_. _No. 12._




FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE DESULTORY REMARKER.

No. XI.

    Man is a being, holding large discourse,
    Looking before and after.


In my last number I availed myself of the occasion, to dwell with
some emphasis, on the necessity and advantage of retrospection.
The past is rife with lessons of experience, fitted to serve as
waymarks and beacons, for the government of human conduct in the
subsequent course. Obvious as this may appear, it is nevertheless
lamentably true, as the venerable JOHN ADAMS has somewhere observed,
that our attention is too frequently monopolized in the pursuit
of present enjoyment, and that each succeeding generation is not
satisfied, until it "_has made experience for itself_." It is,
however, gratifying to believe, that many are not so unmindful of
their real interests, and so destitute of true wisdom; but are on
proper occasions employed, in "looking before and after." To these
no apology will be necessary, for recommending a preparation for
those duties, which appertain to the severe and dreary season, upon
which we are now entering. A season, above all others calculated,
to illustrate the generous and benevolent principles of our
nature; and which calls most loudly and authoritatively for their
exercise. When indigence is gifted with peculiar eloquence, which
the powers of a BURKE or an AMES, could scarcely _heighten_. We are
fortunately so constituted, that the sight of distress is amply
sufficient to awaken our sympathy, without requiring by a conclusive
moral deduction, the establishment of the fact, that it is our duty
to sympathize with the objects of it. Ere long a wide field will
present itself for mitigating the sufferings and relieving the wants
of

  THE POOR.

The most efficacious _preventive_, of the evils attendant on
poverty, is the general and extensive application of mental and
moral discipline to the rising generation. This is the only radical
remedy for the disease; a truth, which should never be lost sight
of, by forecasting statesmen and enlightened philanthropists. But
the urgency and immediate pressure of want, requires prompt relief,
not to be derived from this source. The array of indigence will
be unusually great during the approaching winter, for even honest
industry is frequently disappointed in its search after employment.
Among the objects of public beneficence there will generally be
found a considerable number of this description, whose condition is
the result of misfortune alone; while the calamities of others, are
the consequences of vice and improvidence. But it should always be
remembered, that wretchedness and misery from whatever cause they
may proceed, are entitled to commiseration; and that genuine charity
imitates though at infinite distance, the example of our beneficent
Creator, who "maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good,
and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust."

The most salutary mode of extending relief, is unquestionably
that of employment. Idleness is uniformly prejudicial to sound
morals, and intrinsically mischievous in its character. When
alms are distributed it is moreover, far preferable to furnish
the necessaries of life, rather than money, which is too often
misapplied. As this is to many, the season of plenty and good cheer,
particularly in the country, the situation of the necessitous is
from this circumstance, entitled to primary consideration. I well
remember, when a boy and residing in a neighbouring county, being
despatched to some of the poor in the vicinity, with a part of the
superabundance of the season; and their grateful and affectionate
benedictions on the head of their revered benefactor, will never be
forgotten. I may perhaps be indulged in adding, that I rejoice in
believing, that he is now in that city "which hath foundations;" not
one of whose inhabitants can say "I am sick." The example of such
men is cheering and of signal advantage to society. "The memory of
the just is blessed."

I am well aware, that to dwell at length on the subject here
recommended, would, as it respects some of the patrons of the Rural
Magazine be an act of supererogation. To such as these, all that is
necessary to stimulate to a performance of their duties to their
unfortunate fellow creatures, is to be made acquainted with their
situation. The extension of the necessary assistance, is however, in
many instances, a task of peculiar delicacy. Reference is here made
to those who have seen happier days, and whose feelings, will not
permit them publicly to solicit relief. In this class will generally
be found, the least obtrusive but most deserving individuals; those
who have undoubted claims on the generous and humane.

As this is probably the last opportunity, I shall have of
holding communion, with my readers, it would be a source of real
satisfaction, should ever a solitary hint of a profitable tendency,
be derived from this valedictory paper. If the pressure of grief and
privation, in a single instance be obviated, the reward would indeed
be ample. Duties of the most imperative and important character, are
constantly claiming our serious and assiduous attention. I cannot
therefore, with more propriety, terminate my humble, desultory
labours, than by sincerely and fervently desiring, that when the
winter of old age and the evening of life shall arrive, we may enjoy
the delightful consciousness of having faithfully performed our
respective obligations, and particularly those which we owe to THE
POOR. ☞




FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.

THE VILLAGE TEACHER.


The winter season of desolation as it is, has charms and attractions
of its own. There is something exquisitely mournful in the whistling
of its winds through the leafless branches of the forest, and around
the lonely walls of a country dwelling. The absence of all gaudy
decoration and its mute and desert loneliness give to the landscape
a sublimity which is in perfect keeping with these deeper and
harsher tones of the lyre of Æolus. The mind that has been at all
trained in the school of nature, and has drank of true philosophy
at its source amid fields and groves and mountains, can catch the
glow of inspiration even from these stern and rugged features. It
can discern in every aspect of external nature a feeling and an
attribute, touching and peculiar, and can trace out in them those
moral truths, of which it would seem that the forms of the physical
creation, are but the types and the shadows. It is not merely that
the remembrance of the enjoyments and hopes which have faded, and of
the friends that are no more, subdue and chasten the soul; but the
naked majesty, and austere colouring of the landscape find an answer
in the mind. We view life divested of its gaudy trappings, and
feel the cold reality of what had mocked us at a distance with the
semblance of felicity. At the same time the hopes which endure, and
the happiness which we know by experience to be solid, gain value
in our estimation, as we are thus lifted above a dependence upon
transitory and perishing enjoyments.

I had by this train of thought, wrought up my mind to a comfortably
good opinion of my own fortitude, during a long ramble to-day, and
was seated by my solitary fire this evening, meditating on the
subject I had chosen for my next essay, and heaping Pelion upon Ossa
in my dreams of future eminence; when a letter from the Editors was
brought in, announcing that the next number of the Magazine was to
be the last.

The angels in Milton's Pandemonium did not more suddenly contract
into pigmies than did my fancied self-importance at this sad
intelligence. From the port and aspect of one of the enlighteners
of mankind, I shrunk at once into an obscure village schoolmaster
unknown beyond the next township, and unnoticed save by a few of my
humble patrons,

    "Husbanding that which I possess within
    And going to the grave unthought of."

I looked round in my despair upon the naked walls, and they seemed
to stare at me, as even they had never heard of me. An impertinent
cricket in the wainscot was the only audible being near me and
he kept on with his idle song, as if in derision. The feeling of
disappointment for a time overpowered my philosophy, and I did not
see my gorgeous hopes vanish into air without a bitter feeling
of regret. To be thus cut off in the very bud of expectancy of
authorship--to have that genial current of thought and feeling
which was but beginning to flow turned back to its source, are
misfortunes which none but an author can estimate, and which send us
back to the dull routine of life with altered feelings.

Why should I not please myself with the imagination of what I might
have achieved? It is true that of the many into whose hands these
numbers have fallen, the greater part may have passed over my essays
unnoticed.

An inharmonious period--an uninteresting sentiment may have caught
their attention, and they have turned away with indifference. Of
those who have perused them, many have done it in a spirit of
captious criticism, some with forced and struggling attention, and a
few perhaps with real kindness and interest. Yet all this ill will
and kindness and indifference has been lost upon me, and disturb
not the dreams of vanity. The stillness of my retreat has not been
broken by a sound of murmur or approbation, nor do I know that I
have lightened for a moment the brow of sorrow, or attracted for a
still shorter period, the attention of the busy, or the idle:--happy
if from this failure also, I shall learn another lesson of humility
and shrink without repining into my own proper dimensions.

I have not entered my first and fortieth year without being armed
against such disappointments, nor will I part from them with whom
I have thus sojourned in ill will or moroseness. What, though I
may have overrated my own powers of entertainment, I have only
proclaimed that which is the open or secret vanity of all. What
though my readers have gone unsatisfied away from the table which
I had spread for them?--the fruits of wisdom though harsh and
austere in their taste, have not lost their savour with _me_; they
still hang upon the tree of nature, and I can yet gather them for
my own sustenance, though it be in solitude and obscurity. Minds,
to whose gigantic proportions I feel myself a pigmy have exhausted
their skill in portraying the beauty of virtue, and the world still
lingers in corruption and defilement. My own efforts would have
been more important, and I begin to think that I should have wasted
my strength in idle display; if indeed I had not met with rueful
discomfiture.

Reader! if in thy journeyings through the heart of Pennsylvania thou
shouldst pass the quiet hamlet of Plainfield--if the recollection
of these essays still linger in thy heart and thou shouldst seek
a further acquaintance with their author--stop, and inquire at my
landlord's for

  THE VILLAGE TEACHER.




EXCURSION FROM EDINBURGH TO DUBLIN.

BY AN AMERICAN.


  _Glasgow, Friday, April 11, 1817._

At the hour of dinner we went to 'North wood-side,' a delightful
country residence about two miles from Glasgow, the property of an
opulent merchant. It is situated upon the Kelvin, a tributary stream
of the Clyde, and together with its grounds, exhibits striking
evidences of the elegant but costly taste of its proprietor. The
gentleman has been in America, and was not a little attached to its
form of government,--a partiality which naturally extended itself to
the individuals concerned in its administration; and, accordingly
we were gratified with beholding the portraits of several of our
most distinguished countrymen adorning the walls of his apartments.
The afternoon passed highly to our satisfaction; and we would gladly
have accepted an invitation, which was given with a sincerity which
could not be mistaken, to protract our visit beyond the day, but for
engagements which required our return to Glasgow. After coffee we
left North Wood-side, and reached the city in season to sup at the
Rev. Dr. Chalmers'.

It had been my good fortune to meet and become partially acquainted
with this extraordinary man in Edinburgh. He has politely invited
me to visit him in Glasgow, and this morning I called at his house,
and passed half an hour with him. I found him then much engaged
in completing some preparations for a journey to London which he
is to commence on Monday. He desired my company at supper in the
evening, and extended the invitation to my companion. We found a
few friends at his house, among whom were several ladies. Mrs. C.
possesses a pleasing person, and engaging manners, and performed
the honours of the table with great propriety. Dr. C. had finished
the necessary arrangements for his journey, and entered freely into
an animated and instructive conversation. His colloquial powers are
of a high order. Even in familiar conversation, he is impressive
and striking;--although he seems not to be ambitious of display
or the distinction of taking a lead.--He is at home on most of
the popular topics of the day. In discussing any of interest, he
engages '_totus in illis_.' His thoughts in that case are rapid, and
his remarks,--assuming the complexion of his fervid mind,--abound
in glowing but easy illustrations. He spoke very feelingly upon
the subject of the English poor laws, and the alarming increase
of mendicity in Scotland. As in instance of the unnatural state
of things in Glasgow itself, he referred to the sum of 14,000_l._
sterling, which in less than a month had been raised by subscription
in this single city, for the relief of the poorer classes. To the
honour, however, of the wealthy population of Glasgow, it should be
added, that the moneys thus contributed, have been more than enough,
with other private benefactions, to supply the present need; and
the surplus has been funded to meet some future, and I hope, very
distant exigency.

Conversation at table turned upon that dark and malignant spirit of
infidelity, which under various forms, seems insidiously stealing
like a pestilence throughout society. Dr. C's. remarks upon this
subject were very eloquent, both in commenting upon the different
masks which it assumes, and the coverts wherein it lurks, and in
suggesting some seemingly effectual checks to the prevalence of this
tremendous evil. The inquiries of Dr. C. relative to America, as
well now as during a former interview, indicated no small degree of
attention which he has paid to its civil and religious institutions.
He spoke in terms of great commendation of the writings of the
late Jonathan Edwards, and pronounced them to be among the ablest
in English theology. In metaphysics he considers Edwards to have
equalled the deepest thinkers of his age.

The supper at Dr. C's. was liberally and tastfully provided.
Immediately after its removal, and before the wine was placed upon
the table, the service of evening devotion was introduced. It was
simple but engaging; consisting of a portion of scripture, which
was read with great solemnity, and a prayer, during which all the
company kneeled, as is usual to family devotions throughout this
country. The servants were present. It was nearly twelve o'clock
when we took leave of Dr. C. A very friendly request which he made
that I would visit him hereafter in Glasgow, I fear that I shall
never have it in my power to comply with.

_Glasgow, 14th April._--Yesterday I had the satisfaction to hear
Dr. Chalmers preach once more. It was generally understood that it
would be the last time that he would officiate in Glasgow for two
or three months, and the crowds which assembled to hear him were
very great. He was absent from his own pulpit, by exchange, in the
morning, which did not prevent, however many from following him
to the church where he preached. The Tron, in the afternoon, was
overflowing some time before the hour of service, and the rush of
people to the doors was as great as I have seen at Covent Garden,
when John Kemble was to play. I repaired early to the church with
some ladies, and we were fortunate in procuring excellent seats.
Dr. C. fully equalled my expectations, although I have heard him in
Edinburgh produce a superior effect. The eloquence of this great
man is very vehement and impassioned. The effect which he produces
in preaching, does not consist in approaching his point by any
artful and covert process of reasoning and illustration, but by
openly marching up and confronting it with unhesitating and manly
intrepidity. Whatever faults may be detected in Dr. C's. style by
the cool eye of fastidious criticism,--from the profusion of his
ornaments, the overstraining of his metaphors, the redundancy of
his expression,--perhaps there is no person living who, when once
seen and heard, would be pronounced more free from the petty or
laboured artifices which are generally employed to recommend and
enforce instruction. So regardless is he of the factitious aids of
composition, that his style may often be considered negligent, and
sometimes even coarse. This again may be regarded by hyper-critics
as a species of affectation; a contrary, and, I believe, a juster
inference may be drawn from the fact. Dr. C. unconsciously
overlooks, while he is thought studiously to disdain, the more
common trappings and gilding of composition. In preaching, he seems
wholly absorbed in his sublime occupation, and to be irresistibly
borne along by the grandeur of his theme. As a man, he appears to
sink under a prostrating sense of his own personal nothingness,
but as a herald of the Christian faith, he rises to the majesty
of more than mortal elevation. In discussing the great truths of
Revelation, his imagination kindles; and strange it would be if
it did not. The fire which is elicited is the natural effect of
the rapid motion of his thoughts, combined with the fervour of his
ardent piety. His single services yesterday were enough to prove
him the first preacher of his age. In each of his discourses there
are some parts which are particularly impassioned, and at such
moments he hurries onward as with the excitement of inspiration,
and produces an effect which Whitefield could not have surpassed.
At these times, too, the listening audience may be seen bending
forward, as if with breathless interest, to catch each word as it
falls from his lips; and, on his arriving at the conclusion of the
particular train of sentiment, again arousing as from the spell of a
dream to the reality of conscious existence. This is not fancy, or
if it be, it is one which I am not singular in possessing. Dr. C. at
least produces the effect of awakening susceptibilities in the most
obdurate bosoms. I was present one evening when he was preaching
in lady Glenorchy's chapel, in Edinburgh, and occupied a seat next
to Spurzheim, the celebrated craniologist. I noticed that he was
deeply engaged by the preacher. On his finishing, I inquired what he
thought of him? "It is too much, too much," said he, passing his
hand across his forehead, "my brain is on a fever by what I have
been hearing," a striking declaration from a cold and phlegmatic
German.

Dr. C. seems to act and feel as one, who, possessed of great
intellectual endowments, is conscious that he owes them all to the
service of religion. His aim apparently is, to "bring every thought
into captivity to the truth of Christ," and to "cast down each
lofty imagination," at the foot of the cross. To add to the weight
of his discourses, he is accustomed to call into requisition the
abounding stores of his various knowledge. In delivering his sermons
he usually commences in a low, but always a distinct tone of voice;
and proceeds for some time with a calm and uniform utterance. As
his subject is developed, his mind and feelings gradually expand,
and his voice is insensibly raised. His manner at first is not
prepossessing; nor indeed is his voice to an English ear, as it
has much of the Fifeshire accent. The hearer, however, soon loses
whatever is disagreeable in each; and even forgets the man while
listening to the message of the preacher. Dr. C. appears turned of
thirty-eight, in his person he is tall, and rather slender; his hair
and complexion incline to dark; his eye is a blue tending to gray,
and is distinguished at first only by a certain heaviness in its
expression. It beams however in conversation, and flashes in public
discourse.

Some facts in the history of this extraordinary man are peculiar.
For the first few years of his ministry he was settled in Kilmany,
an inconsiderable parish in the county of Fife. While there, he was
generally accounted a man of talents, but rather indifferent to the
duties of his profession, fond of social and gay company, proud of
his intellectual powers no less so of his acquirements, and careless
of the construction which the more serious part of the community
might put upon his principles and sentiments. If I am correctly
informed, he occasionly gave lectures in natural philosophy at the
university of St. Andrews, and was considered as belonging to the
moderate party in the kirk. Dr. Brewster applied to him to write
the article _Christianity_, in his Encyclopedia; and it is said,
that the train of thought into which his investigation led him,
terminated in convictions which had the effect of changing his whole
course of life and sentiments; and from that moment, entering into
the ranks of orthodoxy, he became an eminent and powerful champion
of the faith. His essay has since been published in a separate form,
and entitled the "Evidences of Christianity." Shortly after this
remarkable change, his reputation rose with astonishing rapidity;
his zeal in the service of religion became inextinguishable; and if
the excellence of a preacher is to be estimated by his popularity,
Dr. C. is decidedly the first in Great Britain. He was transferred
to Glasgow two or three years ago. His parish is very large,
consisting, as he told me, of nearly ten thousand souls. So great
a number imposes duties upon him peculiarly heavy: nor does his
constitution seem capable of sustaining his fatigues. In delivering
his discourses from the pulpit, which generally occupy an hour, it
is usual with him to stop about midway, and read a hymn of six or
eight verses, to be sung by the audience, while an opportunity is
given him to recover from the partial exhaustion occasioned by this
vehement oratory. The people in Edinburgh are desirous of erecting
a church for him, and requesting him to settle among them; but an
obstacle is found in the jealousy of the inhabitants of Glasgow,
who look with no small uneasiness upon every thing which tends to
aggrandize the reputation of Edinburgh.




THE NATURAL HISTORY OF ANTS.[1]

  [1] The Natural History of Ants; by M. P. Huber, &c. Translated from
  the French, with Additional Notes, by J. R. Johnson, M.D. F.R.S. &c.
  London, 1820.


Natural history is perhaps the most amusing of studies, though not
so useful as botany or chemistry. It is curious to observe, however,
on the score of utility, that the more minute parts of creation are
of infinitely greater importance than the superior creatures in the
scale of animal life. A knowledge of entomology is calculated to
elicit more for the benefit of man, than an acquaintance with the
habits of the larger brutes: the bee, the silk-worm, the cochineal
insect, the Spanish fly, &c. &c. are far more essential to our
purposes than the lion, the elephant, the rhinoceros, or the bear;
even the sheep and the cow, only compete with these insects, as
clothiers and victuallers; and the horse is merely physical force,
subjected to the direction of the higher animal, man.

If we consider further, how very limited our research has yet been
into the micrographick world, we may, without being thought too
speculative, lose ourselves in the idea of the immensity of stores
that remain to be discovered in the merest particles of animated
nature: there is nothing too much to be imagined on the subject.
But our business is rather to disclose the remarkable circumstances
ascertained by the ingenious M. Huber, than to indulge in
theorising; and we therefore proceed to his History of Ants, which
we have found so entertaining, that we have no doubt it will furnish
more than one interesting paper for our work.

The first chapter treats of the architecture of ants. The various
habits of these wonderful insects are amply described; and were
we not assured by ocular examination, of the truth of many of the
particulars, we could hardly extend our belief to the prodigies
related by the author: but we have witnessed so much that we can
credit all. To return to the architecture; we find that their
habitations, their cities, are not the least curious of their
performances. Mr. Huber details the formation of a domicile by the
fallow ants, and adds--

"Our little insects, now in safety in their nest, retire gradually
to the interior before the last passages are closed, one or two only
remain without, or concealed behind the doors on guard, whilst the
rest either take their repose, or engage in different occupations in
the most perfect security.

"I was impatient to know what took place in the morning upon these
ant-hills, and therefore visited them at an early hour. I found them
in the same state in which I had left them the preceding evening.
A few ants were wandering about on the surface of the nest, some
others issued from time to time from under the margin of the little
roofs formed at the entrance of the galleries: others afterwards
came forth who began removing the wooden bars that blockaded the
entrance, in which they readily succeeded. This labour occupied them
several hours. The passages were at length free, and the materials
with which they had been closed scattered here and there over the
ant-hill.

"Every day, morning and evening, during the fine weather, I was a
witness to similar proceedings. On days of rain, the doors of all
the ant-hills remain closed. When the sky is cloudy in the morning,
or rain is indicated, the ants who seem to be aware of it, open but
in part their several avenues, and immediately close them when the
rain commences. It would appear from this they are not insensible of
the motive for which they form these temporary closures.

"To have an idea how the straw or stubble roof is formed, let us
take a view of the ant-hill at its origin, when it is simply
a cavity in the earth. Some of its future inhabitants are seen
wandering about in search of materials fit for the exterior work,
with which, though rather irregularly, they cover up the entrance;
whilst others are employed in mixing the earth, thrown up in
hollowing the interior, with fragments of wood and leaves, which are
every moment brought in by their fellow-assistants; and this gives a
certain consistence to the edifice, which increases in size daily.
Our little architects leave here and there cavities, where they
intend constructing the galleries which are to lead to the exterior;
and as they remove in the morning the barriers placed at the
entrance of their nest the preceding evening, the passages are kept
entire during the whole time of its construction. We soon observe it
to become convex; but we should be greatly deceived did we consider
it solid. This roof is destined to include many apartments or
stories. Having observed the motions of these little masons through
a pane of glass which I adjusted against one of their habitations, I
am enabled to speak with some degree of certainty upon the manner in
which they are constructed."

"I never found, even after long and violent rains, the interior of
the nest wetted to more than a quarter of an inch from the surface,
provided it had not been previously out of repair, or deserted by
its inhabitants."

"The ants are extremely well sheltered in their chambers, the
largest of which is placed nearly in the centre of the building;
it is much loftier than the rest, and traversed only by the beams
that support the ceiling: it is in this spot that all the galleries
terminate, and this forms, for the most part, their usual residence."

"Those ants who lay the foundation of a wall, a chamber, or
gallery, from working separately, occasion now and then a want of
coincidence in the parts of the same or different objects. Such
examples are of no unfrequent occurrence, but they by no means
embarrass them. What follows proves that the workman on discovering
his error, knew how to rectify it.

"A wall had been erected with the view of sustaining a vaulted
ceiling, still incomplete, that had been projected from the wall
of the opposite chamber. The workman who began constructing it,
had given it too little elevation to meet the opposite partition
upon which it was to rest. Had it been continued on the original
plan, it must infallibly have met the wall at about one-half of its
height, and this it was necessary to avoid. This state of things
very forcibly claimed my attention; when one of the ants, arriving
at the place, and visited the works, appeared to be struck by the
difficulty which presented itself; but this it as soon obviated,
by taking down the ceiling and raising the wall upon which it
reposed. It then, in my presence, constructed a new ceiling with the
fragments of the former one.

"When the ants commence any undertaking, one would suppose that
they worked after some preconceived idea, which indeed would seem
verified by the execution. Thus, should any ant discover upon the
nest, two stalks of plants, which lie cross-ways, a disposition
favourable to the construction of a lodge; or some little beams
that may be useful in forming its angles and sides, it examines the
several parts with attention, then distributes with much sagacity
and address parcels of earth, in the spaces, and along the stems,
taking from every quarter materials adapted to its object, sometimes
not caring to destroy the work that others had commenced; so much
are its motions regulated by the idea it has conceived, and upon
which it acts, with little attention to all else around it. It
goes and returns, until the plan is sufficiently understood by its
companions."

"From these observations, and a thousand similar, I am convinced
that each ant acts independently of its companions. The first who
conceives a plan of easy execution, immediately gives the sketch of
it: others have only to continue what this has begun, judging, from
an inspection of the first labours, in what they ought to engage.
They can all lay down plans, and continue to polish or retouch their
work as occasion requires. The water furnishes the cement they
require, and the sun and air hardens the materials of which their
edifice is composed. They have no other chisel than their teeth, no
other compass than their antennæ, and no other trowel than their
fore-feet, of which they make use in an admirable manner, to affix
and consolidate the moistened earth."

We have thus some idea of that masonry which erects the abodes
familiar to every eye, though the execution may not be familiar to
many minds. The second chapter contains an account of the eggs,
larvæ pupæs; and here other marvels are unfolded. In the ants nest
are males whose sole business is to perpetuate the species and die;
females who are waited upon like peeresses in their own right, who
neither toil nor spin, but are served by neutrals, labourers, who
tend their innumerable eggs, nourish and unfold the larvæ, and in
short, do all the duties of mothers, nurses, and menials. The author
devised means to observe their internal economy; and he says--

"Let us now open the shutter which conceals from us the interior of
the ant hill, and let us see what is passing there.

"Here the pupæ are heaped up by hundreds in their spacious lodges;
there the larvæ are collected together, and guarded by workers.
In one place, we observe an assemblage of eggs, in another place,
some of the workers seem occupied in following an ant of larger
size than the rest;--this is the mother, or at least one of the
females, for there are always several in each ant-hill:--she lays
as she walks, and the guardians, by whom she is surrounded, take
up her eggs, or seize them at the very moment of her laying them;
they collect them together, and carry them in little heaps in their
mouths.[2] On looking a little closer, we find that they turn them
continually with their tongues; it even appears, they pass them one
after the other between their teeth, and thus keep them constantly
moistened. Such is the first _apercu_ which my glazed aparatus
offered.

  [2] The eggs of ants are so remarkably minute, that there would seem
  an absolute necessity of their being held together by some glutinous
  matter, otherwise, it would render the removal of such small bodies
  in the mandibles of ants almost impossible; the mandibles being so
  constituted as not to be brought into that close contact necessary
  for this operation.--T.

"Having directed my close attention to these eggs, I remarked they
were of different sizes, shades and forms. The smallest were white,
opake, and cylindrical; the largest, transparent, and slightly
arched at both ends; those of a middle were semi-transparent. In
holding them up to the light, I observed a sort of white oblong
cloud; in some, a transparent point might be remarked at the
superior extremity; in others, a clear zone above and underneath
the little cloud. The largest presented a single opake and whitish
point in their interior. There were some whose whole body was so
remarkably clear as to allow of my observing very distinctly the
rings. In fixing my attention more closely upon the latter, I
observed the egg open, and the larva appear in its place."

"I have been enabled to observe through the glasses of my artificial
ant-hill, the great care taken of these little worms, which bear
also the name of Larvæ. They were generally guarded by a body of
ants, who, raised upon their feet, with their abdomen brought
between these members, were prepared to cast their venom upon all
intruders, whilst here and there, other workers were engaged in
clearing the passages, by removing the materials which were out of
place: a great number of their companions taking at the same time
their repose, and appearing to be fast asleep: but a busy scene
occurred at the moment of transporting their little ones to enjoy
the warmth of the sun. When the sun's rays fell upon the exterior
portion of the nest, the ants, who were then on the surface,
descended with great rapidity to the bottom of the ant-hill, struck
with their antennæ the other ants, ran one after the other, and
jostled their companions, who mounted at the moment under the bell
glass, and redescended with the same speed, putting in their turn
the whole colony in motion, so that we could observe a swarm of
workers, filling up all the passages; but what proved still more
their intention by these movements, was, the violence with which the
workers sometimes seized, with their mandibles, those who did not
appear to understand them, dragging them forth to the top of the
ant-hill, and immediately leaving them, to go and seek those still
remaining with the young.

"As soon as the ants had intimation of the appearance of the sun,
they occupied themselves with the larvæ and pupæ; they carried them
with all expedition above the ant-hill, where they left them exposed
to the influence of the heat. Their ardour suffered no relaxation;
the female larvæ (which are heavier, and much larger than those of
the other cast) were carried passages, leading from the interior to
the exterior of the ant-hill, and placed in the sun, by the side of
those of the workers and males. After remaining there a quarter of
an hour, the ants again took them up, and sheltered them from the
direct rays of the sun, by placing them in chambers, situated under
a layer of straw, which did not entirely intercept the heat.

The workers, after having fulfilled the duties imposed upon them
in regard to the larvæ, did not forget themselves; they sought, in
their turn, to stretch themselves in the sun, lay upon each other
in heaps, and seemed to enjoy some repose, but it was of no long
duration. I observed a great number constantly employed on the
surface of the ant-hill, and others engaged in carrying back the
larvæ, in proportion as the sun declined. The moment of nourishing
them being at length arrived, each ant approached a larva, and
offered it food. "The larvæ of ants," observes M. Latreille,
"resemble, when they quit the egg, little white worms destitute
of feet, thick short, and in form almost conical; their body is
composed of twelve rings: the anterior part is slender and curved.
We remark at the head two little horny pieces or hooks, too distant
from each other to be regarded as true teeth; under these hooks
we observe four little points or _cils_, two on each side, and a
_mamelon_, or tubercular process, almost cylindrical, soft, and
retractile, by which the larva receives its food."




FATA MORGANA.


This singular and curious phenomenon, which is occasionally seen
near the Bay of Naples, and which is nearly allied to the _mirage_,
so well known in the east, was observed in Huntingdonshire, during
the late hot weather. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, and
the light vapours arising from the river Ouze, were hovering over
a little hill, near St. Noet's when suddenly the village of Great
Paxton, its farm-houses, barns, dispersed cottages, and indeed the
whole of its beautiful and picturesque scenery were distinctly
visible in these vapours, forming a splendid aerial picture, which
extended from east to west for several hundred yards. This natural
panorama lasted for about ten minutes, and was visible from a
neighbouring declivity, about half a mile from Great Paxton.




WONDERS OF NATURE.--ENTOMOLOGY.

ORDER IV.--NEUROPTERA.

    Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways,
    Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved,
    The quivering nations sport; till tempest winged,
    Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day.
    E'en so luxurious men unheeding pass
    An idle summer life in fortune's shine,
    A season's glitter! Thus they flutter on
    From toy to toy, from vanity to vice;
    Till blown away by death, oblivion comes
    Behind, and strikes them from the book of life.


The neuroptera, or _nerve-winged_ insects, have four wings, which
are membranaceous, naked, and so interspersed with delicate veins,
that they have the appearance of beautiful network. Their tail
has no sting; but that of the male is frequently furnished with
a kind of forceps or pincers. The genera are:--1. _Libellula_,
dragon-fly.--2. _Ephemera_, May-fly, or trout-fly, &c.

The _libellula_, or dragon-fly, is an insect of very splendid and
variegated colours. It is a large and well known fly, and frequents
rivers, lakes, pools, and stagnating waters, in which the females
deposit their eggs. The egg, when deposited by the parent in the
water, sinks to the bottom, and remains there till the young insect
has acquired sufficient maturity and strength to burst from its
confinement. The larva, at first small increases to nearly half the
size of the perfect fly, by changing its skin at different intervals
like the caterpillars of moths and butterflies. The appearance of
the little cases containing the rudiments of the wings, at the lower
margin of the thorax, denotes its change to the state of pupa. The
head of this larva is exceedingly singular, being covered with a
mask extending over the whole of the fore part of the head, with
cavities in the anterior surface to suit the different prominences
of the face to which it is fitted with perfect neatness. Its form is
triangular, growing smaller towards the bottom: in the latter part
there is a knuckle which fits a cavity near the neck, and on this
part it turns as on a pivot. The upper part of this mask is divided
into two pieces, which the insect can open or close at pleasure,
and it can also let down the whole mask, should occasion require.
The inner edges of these two pieces are toothed like a saw, and
serve the animal as a pair of forceps to seize and retain its prey.
This is the general principle on which these projecting forceps are
constructed in the larva of the libellulæ; they differ in shape in
the several species, but uniformly act in a similar manner.

These animals generally live and feed at the bottom of water,
swimming only occasionally. Their motion in the water can scarcely
be called swimming; it is accomplished by sudden jerks repeated
at intervals. This motion is not occasioned by their legs, which
at this time are kept immoveable and close to the body: it is
by forcing out a stream of water from the tail that the body is
carried forward, as may be easily perceived by placing them in a
flat vessel, in which there is only just water enough to cover
the bottom. Here the action of the water squirted from their tail
will be very visible; it will occasion a small current, and give
sensible motion to any light bodies that are lying on the surface.
This action can only be effected at intervals, because after each
ejaculation the insect is obliged to take a fresh supply of water.
The larva will sometimes turn its tail above the surface of the
water, and force out a small stream, as from a little fountain, and
with considerable force.

Under the same order is comprehended the _phryganea_, or spring-fly:
the caterpillars of this genus live in the water, and are covered
with a silken tube. They have a very singular aspect; for, by means
of a gluten, they attach to the tubes in which they are enclosed
small pieces of wood, sand, gravel, leaves of plants, and not
unfrequently live on testaceous animals, all of which they drag
along with them. They are very commonly found on the leaves of the
water-cress; and, as they are often entirely covered with them, they
have the appearance of animated plants. They are in great request
among fishermen, by whom they are distinguished by the name of stone
or cod-bait. The fly, or perfect insect, frequents running water, in
which the females deposit their eggs.




CHEAP AND ELEGANT CARPETS.


On the 6th of September, the Society for the encouragement of
national industry at Paris, granted to Mr. Chenavard, (Boulevard
St. Antoine, No. 65, Paris) the premium of 1200 francs, which
had been promised to the person who could manufacture, at the
lowest price, the kind of carpet best calculated for low and damp
habitations. The most complete success in the making of this article
rewarded the exertions of Mr. C. whose manufacturing ingenuity, in
a great variety of branches is well known, and who is particularly
celebrated for his rich and tasty _paper and stuff hangings_. Mr.
C. has most satisfactorily fulfilled the proposed object of the
said Society, and it is asserted impossible better to combine, in
that branch of industry, cheapness, elegance and solidity. The new
invented article is a sort of varnished felt, far superior to any
thing of the kind that was ever manufactured in England, with which
stone floors, marbles, mosaics, and even the finest carpets of
Persia can be imitated. It is not dearer than the coarsest mats. A
square foot of it may be purchased for 4 sols: so that the quantity
which is necessary for a room 24 feet by 20, would amount to no more
than 48 francs, or about 9 dollars. 14 cents. Mr. C. is now giving
his attention to a new kind of winter carpet, which its cheapness
and superior qualities will make a valuable acquisition to the
lovers of comfort.




From Jacob's Travels.

CULTIVATION OF FLOWERS IN HOLLAND.


After passing through the small town of Liss, the road continued
with the sandhills in perfect barrenness till we approached that
city; whose entrance is decorated with country seats of considerable
magnificence and beautiful flower gardens which supply bulbs to the
horticulturists of their own country, as well as furnish the most
beautiful specimens of flowers to the rest of Europe.

The attention of the cultivation of flower roots and seeds,
independent of the elegance of the pursuit, has by the profits it
has brought become an object of some importance. It is the source
of prosperity to many respectable families, and in some measure
lays all Europe under obligations which are repaid by profit to the
cultivators. The number of flower-gardeners is not above twelve or
thirteen, but the operations of each are very extensive. It is said,
that there are more than twenty acres of land devoted solely to the
cultivation of hyacinths, and a large portion to tulips, and other
flowers. These flowers are principally sold when in full bloom in
Amsterdam, where there is a weekly market on Sunday afternoon, and
the whole of Monday; the trade, however, has vastly declined of late
years, having sunk in weekly returns from 15,000 to 3,000 florins.
The tulip mania which afflicted Holland in the years 1636 and 1637,
and which involved so many families in ruin, has long ceased;
but in 1730, a hyacinth-mania, inferior to it indeed, but equally
ridiculous, prevailed: and speculations were made in those flowers
to a considerable extent, so that some single bulbs were sold as
high as sixty or seventy pounds. There can be no doubt but the taste
for cultivating flower gardens, which has extended itself over
almost the whole of Europe, may be traced to this country, which
furnishes bulbs and seeds till the intervention of successive wars
and their interruptions to communication, induced the other nations
to propagate those flowers at home, whose growth was most congenial
to their soil and climate.




From Lyman's "Political State of Italy."

A VISIT TO TWO NUNNERIES IN ROME.


I obtained permission to visit the nunnery called "Tor di Specchio,"
one of the richest and most respectable of Rome, having twenty-one
nuns, great rents, and requiring one thousand eight hundred dollars
of expenses for the ceremony of vestire. I was received in a room
just beyond the grate in which the confessor of the convent, a red
faced, good natured looking man, was warming himself; a 'converse'
spinning flax, and the sister whose duty it was to wait in the
room for the week. In the garden, great numbers of roses and other
flowers were cultivated. I was led through several corridors, at
the end of each of which was placed an image of the Saviour or the
Virgin, with a lamp burning before it. In the corridor of the second
story, the cells of the sisters were situated, each covered towards
the passage by a large green curtain. These cells looked into the
garden, and opposite each door in the corridor was placed a large
stand of ashes, at which the nuns cooked their morning chocolate and
warmed themselves. The dining room was large, and the tables were
well covered with green baize. In the middle of the room there was
a pulpit, from which a sister read in turn religious works during
the meals, a practice which prevails in nearly all Roman convents;
the word "Silentium," in large letters, was cut deep in a stone
over the principal door. The kitchen was large, but dirty. In this
nunnery there were three chapels, one church for summer and another
for winter. I was suffered to enter the cell of the superior, who
received me with great courtesy. She was sitting upon a bed, that
she had not left for three years, spinning flax, and holding a large
rosary in one hand. She was at that time eighty-three years of age,
and had entered the convent at twelve for her education, which she
had never left since that hour, having been suffered to remain
during the French time. She spoke much, and with great vivacity.
There were six or seven straw bottomed chairs in her little cell,
a handsome, but old fashioned clock, a small wardrobe and a few
religious prints. In several cells, which happened to be open as
I passed, I saw books, flowers in the windows--a harpsichord, a
harp and some other musical instruments. In this convent, meat is
eaten four times a week, and the order of the day is as follows,
much resembling that of all convents. In summer they get up at
five. Prayers last an hour and a half; breakfast at seven--prayer
till eight--prayers again at ten--dine at eleven--after dinner
sleep--evening office at four--supper at six, and bed at eight. In
the intervals of meals and offices, the sisters read pious books,
talk, walk, embroider, tear lint for hospitals, or do coarse work.
They confess themselves and take the sacrament every eight days;
they confess themselves to a priest named by the head of the order;
he is changed several times a year. The person, who conducted me,
was a princess of a Roma family. She had taken the veil twenty-one
years ago, but possessed perfect ease, simplicity and courtesy. She
spoke of those matters, which are always subjects of conversation
in drawing rooms of antiquities, carnivals, deaths of queens, &c.
Her dress was coarse black, and by no means neat. She was perfectly
affable, and answered with great complaisance numerous troublesome
questions. Indeed, there was not the slightest tinge of gloom, or
solitude, or austerity about this convent, or in the appearance and
manners of the few nuns, whom I happened to see. I recollect hearing
an aged Roman lady, who possessed a vast experience in courts,
convents, drawing-rooms, boudoirs, and of every thing else which
relates to the world, remark some time after that of all creatures
she had ever seen, the most amiable in their manners, and good
natured, were nuns.

_Vive Seppolte._--As its name denotes, the nuns of this convent
never see the face of any human being but of the inmates of it. They
confess themselves to a confessor through a brass plate, pierced
with small holes; they are allowed to hold converse with their
friends only once a year, through a similar plate. No window or
any kind of opening looks upon a street or any sort of building;
all the light comes from their own courtyard. They wear woollen
next their skin, which is changed only once a month, sleep in their
clothes upon straw, and wear pieces of leather tied about their
feet. At the restoration of the pope all returned, excepting one,
who went to a similar convent at Albano. They have now fifty-four
nuns, and one of them unluckily possesses a large fortune. No
convent in Rome receives such abundant charity. At the head of the
staircase, leading to this nunnery, a large solid barrel, girt
with iron, and divided into eight parts, is fixed into the thick
wall of the building, and made to turn, so that articles may be
conveyed from and into the convent. We knocked upon this wall and
immediately a voice answered from within, "Praise be to our Lord
Jesus Christ," and said, "what come ye to seek?" We desired to speak
with the abbess. Whereupon the invisible rung a bell, and turning
the barrel, a key was brought to our view, that was taken by a man,
who had appeared at the ringing, and who unlocked the "parlatoire,"
a small room, in one corner of which was a plate of copper, twelve
or fourteen inches square, fixed in the wall, and pierced with the
finest holes imaginable.

The abbess now spoke to us from the other side of the plate, "I
salute you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." This person had a
lively voice and cheerful manner, and she spoke with perfect freedom
and willingness about her own concerns and those of the convent. She
told us that she had taken the veil thirty-eight years ago, and had
been made abbess at the restoration. She said moreover, that the
sisters were happy, enjoyed good health, and that she had never seen
a dissatisfied look, or heard a repentant wish. This was no doubt
true; people are contented in many conditions worse than that of
the Vive Seppolte, and conditions, too, which they never regard as
probations or martyrdoms, to be rewarded in another world. In 1815
the Pope had permitted this convent to be re-established, and since
that time not a human face, beyond those of the sisterhood, had
been seen by any inhabitants of it. Judging from the sound of this
woman's voice, and her rapid, pleasant, and animated conversation,
it is evident that she had neither regretted nor suffered much
from this deprivation. She appeared to have vast vivacity, and
much playfulness of mind, and was a great talker. Still it did
not often befal her to speak to foreigners through the grate, and
much allowance ought to be made for the excitement which a similar
situation doubtless awakened. When a small tribute was turned upon
the barrel into the convent, she said "God has sent us this gift."
"Those, who sent it, will be remembered in our prayers."

Having seen and heard much of the convents of Rome, I am satisfied
that the inhabitants of them do not condemn themselves to many
deprivations and mortifications, which they would not have suffered
in the ordinary chances of a different life; that the passions,
which exist there, are less active, violent and frequent, and that
the carelessness of mind, health of body, and absence from all gloom
and severity, utterly contradict and put to shame the theories
and creeds of the world. One cannot discourse too long upon the
impossibility of ascertaining the relative amount of happiness
in the different courses of life to which habit, inclination, or
chance, may call. A foreign gentleman, who had lived twenty years in
Rome, told me that he had never heard of any scandalous conduct in
any nunnery during all that time.




From the Journal of Science.

ANTISEPTIC POWER OF THE PYROLIGNEOUS ACID.


Results of some experiments made by Mr. W. Ramsay.--

A number of herrings were cleaned on the 10th of July, 1819; and
without being salted, were immersed for three hours in distilled
pyroligneous acid, specified gravity 1012. When withdrawn they were
softened and not so firm as fish taken out of common pickle. They
were hung up in the shade; July and August were hot months, but the
herrings had no signs of putrefaction about them, but had a very
wholesome smell, combined with that of the acid. One being broiled
the empyreumatic smell was very strong. The rest, after six months,
were in complete preservation.

It was afterwards found that the period of immersion had been
too long. If the fish are simply dipped in acid of specific
gravity 1012, and dried in the shade, it is sufficient for their
preservation; and such herrings, when boiled, are very agreeable and
have not the disagreeable empyreuma of the former.

A number of haddocks were cleaned, split, and slightly sprinkled
with salt for six hours; then being drained, dipped for about three
seconds in pyroligneous acid, and hung in the shade for eight
days. On being broiled, they were of an uncommonly fine flavour,
delicately white, and equal to the highly esteemed Finnan Haddock.

Herrings were cured in the same way as the haddocks. After being
dried in the shade for two months, they were equal in quality and
flavour to the best red herrings. The fish retained the shining and
fresh appearance they had when taken from the sea.

A piece of fresh beef was dipped for one minute in pyroligneous acid
of specific gravity 1012, in July 1819. On March 4, 1820, it was as
free from taint as when first immersed. No salt was used in this
experiment. A piece of beef was dipped in at the same time in pure
vinegar, of specific gravity 1009. It was perfectly free from taint
on the 18th of November. This experiment indicates antiseptic powers
in pure vinegar; some haddocks were cured with it, which remained
free from taint, but when cooked had an insipid taste.

When beef is partially salted, and then steeped for a short time in
the pyroligneous acid, after being drained and cooked, it has the
same flavor as Hamburg beef.

Mr. Ramsay has no doubt, that with proper modifications, the use of
the acid may be extended to the preservation of every species of
animal food.

In order to ascertain whether the volatile oil in the pyroligneous
acid, or the acid itself, was the agent to prevent putrefaction,
Mr. Ramsay dipped haddocks and fresh beef in pure vinegar of
specific gravity 1009. When fish were allowed to remain in the
vinegar a few minutes, he observed that the muscular fibre was
immediately acted on, a partial solution of the fish took place, and
the acid became milky. When vinegar of a stronger quality was used,
the fish was entirely dissolved, particularly if aided by heat. Both
fish and beef which were dipped in vinegar, of specific gravity
1009, and which were afterwards dried in a summer heat, remained for
a long time after perfectly free from taint.

Mr. Stodart has repeated some of these experiments, and especially
those relating to the haddocks, with perfect success in London.




FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.


The following plan for preparing cheap and nutricious food,
received from a friend in England, was about a year ago extensively
circulated in this country, by means of several of the daily
journals. Whether its utility, has to any considerable extent, been
tested by practice is unknown to the writer; but as it is believed
to be worthy of preservation, and as economy should still continue
to be the order of the day, its republication may possibly be useful.


CHEAP, WHOLESOME, AND SAVORY FOOD.

Take one pound of RICE, steep it in cold water for at least one
hour, (longer would be better;) then put it into boiling water, and,
if previously steeped enough, it will be sufficiently boiled in
about five minutes; then pour off the water, and dry it on the fire,
as in cooking potatoes.

Use it with the following gravy or sauce: two or three ounces of
mutton suet, fried with onions until done enough; then add some
flour and water, (as in making gravy,) with salt and about as much
Cayenne pepper, as will lie on a sixpence, (or twelve and a half
cent piece;) the different ingredients, however, may be varied to
the taste.

At the present wholesale prices of RICE, the above would only cost
about three pence, (a fraction more than _five and a half cents_,)
and would be sufficient meal for _a family of six persons_.

I will merely add, that having eaten of the food prepared in exact
conformity with the foregoing directions, it was found by no means
unpalatable.

I.




GINGER.


The cultivation of this root is nearly similar to that of potatoes.
The land is first well cleansed from weeds; it is then dug into
trenches similar to those which gardeners, make for celery; and the
plants are set in these trenches in March or April. They flower
about September and in January or February; when the stalks are
withered, the roots are in a proper state to be dug up.--These are
prepared for use in two ways. When intended for what is called
_white ginger_, they are picked, scraped, separately washed, and
afterwards dried with great care by exposure in the sun. For _black
ginger_, they are picked, cleansed, immersed in boiling water and
dried. This process is much less laborious and expensive than the
other; consequently the price of the article is not so great. By
boiling, the ginger loses a portion of its essential oil, and its
black colour is owing to this.

The use of ginger, both in medicine, and as a spice, are numerous
and well known. In the West Indies, it is frequently eaten fresh
in sallads, and with other food, and the roots when dug up young,
namely, at the end of three or four months after they have been
planted, are preserved in syrup, and exported as a sweet meat to
nearly all parts of the world. The ginger brought from the East
Indies is much stronger than that coming from Jamaica.




WARS OF THE ANTS.


"The guard or sentry of the ant-hill will furnish us with the first
proof of their social relations. We could, without doubt, irritate
ants on the surface of the nest, without alarming those in the
interior, if they acted isolately, and had no means of communicating
their mutual impressions. Those who are occupied at the bottom of
their nest, removed from the scene of danger, ignorant of what
menaces their companions, could not arrive to their assistance;
but it appears, that they are quickly and well informed of what is
passing on the exterior. When we attack those without, the most
part engage in their defence with a considerable degree of courage;
there are always some, who immediately steal off and produce alarm
throughout their city; the news is communicated from quarter to
quarter, and the labourers come forward in a crowd, with every mark
of uneasiness and anger. What however, is highly worthy our remark
is that the ants, to whose charge the young are confided, and who
inhabit the upper stories, where the temperature is highest, warned
also of the impending danger, always governed by that extreme
solicitude for their charge, which we have so often admired, hasten
to convey them to the deepest part of their habitation, and thus
deposit them in a place of safety.

"To study in detail the manner in which this alarm spreads over the
ant-hill, we must extend our observations to the individuals of
the largest species: the Herculean Ants, who inhabit hollow trees
and who quit them only in the spring, to accompany the males and
females, have very much assisted me in this object.

"The labourers are from five to six lines in length; the winged
individuals are also proportionally large; they may be frequently
seen running about the trunk of an oak, at the entrance of their
labyrinths. When I disturbed those ants that were at the greatest
distance from their companions, by either observing them too
closely, or blowing upon them lightly, I saw them run towards the
other ants, give them gentle blows with their heads against the
corslet, communicating to them in this way, their fear or anger,
passing rapidly from one to the other in a semicircular direction,
and striking several times successively against those who did not
put themselves in instant motion. These, warned of their common
danger, set off immediately, describing in their turn different
curves, and stopping to strike with their heads all those they met
on their passage. In one moment the signal was general, all the
labourers ran over the surface of the tree with great agitation,
those within receiving notice of the danger, and probably by the
same means, came out in a crowd and joined this tumult. The same
signal which produced upon the workers this effect, caused a
different impression upon the males and females; as soon as one of
the labourers had informed them of their danger, they sought an
asylum, and re-entered precipitately the trunk of the tree;--not one
thought of quitting its temporary shelter, until a worker approached
and gave them the signal for flight. The solicitude of the labourers
in their favour, is manifested in the activity they display, in
giving them advice or intimating to them the order for their
departure; they redouble then the above signals, as if conscious of
their understanding their intent less readily than the companions
of their labours; the latter understand them, if I may use the
expression, at half a word."

"Of all the enemies of the ant, those most dreaded are the ants
themselves; the smallest not the least, since several fasten
at once upon the feet of the largest, drag them to the ground,
embarrass their movements, and thus prevent their escape. One would
be astonished at the fury of these insects in their combats; it
would be more easy to tear away their limbs and cut them to pieces,
than compel them to quit their hold. It is nothing uncommon to see
the head of an ant suspended to the legs or antennæ of some worker,
who bears about, in every place, this pledge of his victory. We
also observe, not unfrequently, the ants dragging after them the
entire body of some enemy they had killed some time before, fastened
to their feet in such a way as not to allow of their disengaging
themselves.

"Supposing the ants to be of equal size, those furnished with a
sting have an advantage over those who employ only for their defence
their venom and their teeth. The whole of those ants whose peduncles
has no scale, but one or two knots, are provided with a sting;
the Red Ants, which are said to sting more sharply than the rest,
possess both these sorts of arms. In general the ants furnished with
a sting are, in our country, some of the smallest. I know but one
species of middle size; but it is very rare and only inhabits the
Alps.

"The wars entered into by ants of different size bear no resemblance
to those in which ants engage who come to combat with an equal
force. When the large attack the small, they appear to do it by
surprise, most likely to prevent the latter from fastening upon
their legs; they seize them in the upper part of the body and
strangle them immediately between their pincers. But when the small
ants have time to guard against an attack, they intimate to their
companions the danger with which they are threatened, when the
latter arrive in crowds to their assistance. I have witnessed a
battle between the Herculean and the Sanguine Ants; the Herculean
Ants quitted the trunk of the tree in which they had established
their abode, and arrived to the very gates of the dwelling of the
Sanguine Ants; the latter, only half the size of their adversaries,
had the advantage in point of number; they however acted on the
defensive. The earth, strewed with the dead bodies of their
compatriots, bore witness they had suffered the greatest carnage;
they therefore, took the prudent part of fixing their habitation
elsewhere, and with great activity transported to a distance of
fifty feet from the spot, their companions, and the several objects
that interested them. Small detachments of the workers were posted
at little distances from the nest, apparently placed there to
cover the march of the retreats and to preserve the city itself
from any sudden attack. They struck against each other when they
met, and had always their mandibles separated in the attitude of
defiance. As soon as the Herculean Ants approached their camp,
the centinals in front assailed them with fury; they fought at
first in single combat. The Sanguine Ant threw himself upon the
Herculean Ant, fastened upon its head, turned its abdomen against
the chest of its adversary or against the lower part of its mouth,
and inundated it with venom. It sometimes quitted its antagonist
with great quickness: more frequently, however, the Herculean Ant
held between its feet its audacious enemy. The two champions then
rolled themselves in the dust and struggled violently. The advantage
was at first in favour of the largest ant; but its adversary was
soon assisted by those of its own party who collected around the
Herculean Ant and inflicted several deep wounds with their teeth.
The Herculean Ant yielded to numbers[3]; it either perished the
victim of its temerity, or was conducted a prisoner to the enemy's
camp.

  [3] I retained in close captivity in the same box nearly a month,
  about an equal number of Red and Yellow Ants. It would seem that a
  general feeling of compassion for their unfortunate imprisonment
  had given birth to a suspension of hostilities, and that rankling
  animosity had been exchanged for good will and social order.
  During this period I seldom witnessed any affray on the exterior
  of the nest, and on breaking it up, the interior gave me no room
  to suppose it had been the scene of much contention; but scarcely
  were they liberated, scarcely did they feel the fresh breeze passing
  over them, than their animosity rekindled, and the field of their
  liberty became the theatre of sanguinary combat. For a few moments
  each party seemed engaged in discovering a place of retreat, and
  it was only on returning to the ruins of their original prison, to
  bring off the rest of their companions, that they encountered and
  waged war upon each other. What was as singular as unexpected, they
  fought in pairs, in no one instance _en masse_; indeed, it only
  twice happened, although the ground was strewed with combatants,
  that a third came to the aid of its companion, and even then, as if
  conscious of the unequal contest, one immediately retired. It was
  inconceivable with what desperate fury, and with what determined
  obstinacy they fastened upon each other. With their mandibles alone
  they often succeeded in effecting a complete separation of the body
  of their antagonist, of which the ground exhibited many proofs when
  I revisited it.

  T.

"Such are the combats between ants of different size; but if we wish
to behold regular armies war in all its form, we must visit those
forests in which the Fallow Ants establish their dominion over every
insect in their territory. We shall there see populous and rival
cities, regular roads passing from the ant hill as so many rays from
a centre, and frequently by an immense number of combatants, wars
between hordes of the same species for they are naturally enemies
and jealous of the territory which borders their own capital. It
is in these forests I have witnessed the inhabitants of two large
ant-hills engaged in spirited combat. I cannot pretend to say what
occasioned discord between these republics. They were composed of
ants of the same species, alike in their extent and population; and
were situated about a hundred paces distance from each other. Two
empires could not possess a greater number of combatants.

"Let us figure to ourselves this prodigious crowd of insects
covering the ground lying between these two ant-hills, and occupying
a space of two feet in breadth. Both armies met at half-way from
their respective habitations, and there the battle commenced.
Thousands of ants took their station upon the highest ground, and
fought in pairs, keeping firm hold of their antagonists by their
mandibles; a considerable number were engaged in the attack and
leading away prisoners. The latter made several ineffectual efforts
to escape, as if aware that, upon their arrival at the camp, they
would experience a cruel death. The scene of warfare occupied a
space of about three feet square; a penetrating odour exhaled from
all sides; numbers of dead ants were seen covered with venom. Those
ants composing groups and chains, took hold of each other's legs and
pincers, and dragged their antagonists on the ground. These groups
formed successively. The fight usually commenced between two ants,
who seized each other by the mandibles, and raised themselves upon
their hind legs, to allow of their bringing their abdomen forward,
and spirting the venom upon their adversary. They were frequently
so closely wedged together that they fell upon their sides, and
fought a long time in that situation, in the dust; they shortly
after raised themselves, when each began dragging its adversary;
but when their force was equal, the wrestlers remained immoveable,
and fixed each other to the ground, until a third came to decide
the contest. It more commonly happened that both ants received
assistance at the same time, when the whole four, keeping firm hold
of a foot or antenna, made ineffectual attempts to gain the battle.
Some ants joined the latter, and these were, in their turn seized
by new arrivals. It was in this way they formed chains of six,
eight, or ten ants, all firmly locked together; the equilibrium was
only broken when several warriors, from the same republic, advanced
at the same time, who compelled those that were enchained to let
go their hold, when the single combats again took place. On the
approach of night each party returned gradually to the city, which
served it for an asylum. The ants, which were either killed or led
away into captivity, not being replaced by others, the number of
combatants diminished, until their force was exhausted.

"The ants returned to the field of battle before dawn. The groups
again formed; the carnage recommenced with greater fury than on the
preceding evening, and the scene of combat occupied a space of six
feet in length, by two, in breadth. Success was for a long time
doubtful; about mid-day the contending armies had removed to the
distance of a dozen feet from one of their cities, whence I conclude
some ground had been gained. The ants fought so desperately, that
nothing could withdraw them from their enterprize; they did not
even perceive my presence, and although I remained close to the
army, none of them climbed upon my legs; they seemed absorbed in one
object, that of finding an enemy to contend with."




THE DIAMOND.


Of all transparent substances, none can be compared to the
brilliancy of the diamond; and its hardness is such, that no kind of
steel instrument can make any impression upon it. Notwithstanding
which, it has been proved that the diamond is but carbon or
charcoal, in a pure or chrystallized state. When strongly heated,
it consumes entirely away. Diamonds, when rubbed together, have a
peculiarly, and scarcely to be described grating sound, which is
remarkably characteristic of this gem; so that by this circumstance
alone, rough diamonds may be accurately and expeditiously
distinguished from every other gem. When the diamond is rubbed,
it will attract bits of straw, feathers, hairs, and other small
objects, and if exposed to the rays of the sun, and immediately
taken into a dark place, will appear luminous.

The largest diamond ever known, is in the possession of the Queen of
Portugal, and weighs about eleven ounces. It was found in Brazil,
and sent from thence to London, in the year 1746. It is still uncut,
and has been valued at twenty-five million six hundred thousand
dollars.

Diamonds are much worn in England as ornaments. When converted into
powder or dust, the diamond is used with steel instruments to divide
pebbles and precious stones. Its use in cutting glass is generally
known. Rock crystal, brought from Brazil, is divided into leaves,
and ground and polished with diamond dust for spectacles, and other
optical instruments.




EXTRACTS FROM WIRT.


"Excessive wealth is neither glory nor happiness. The cold and
sordid wretch, who thinks only of himself; who draws his head within
his shell and never puts it out, but for the purposes of lucre and
ostentation--who looks upon his fellow creatures not only without
sympathy, but with arrogance and insolence, as if they were made
to be his vassals, and he was made to be their lord--as if they
were formed for no other purpose than to pamper his avarice, or to
contribute to his aggrandizement--such a man may be rich, but trust
me, that he can never be happy, nor virtuous, nor great. There is in
fortune a golden mean, which is the appropriate region of virtue
and intelligence. Be content with that; and if the horn of plenty
overflow, let its droppings fall upon your fellow men; let them
fall, like the droppings of honey in the wilderness, to cheer the
faint and wayworn pilgrim. I wish you indeed to be distinguished;
but wealth is not essential to distinction. Look at the illustrious
patriots, philosophers and philanthropists, who in various ages have
blessed the world; was it their wealth that made them great? Where
was the wealth of Aristides, Socrates, of Plato, of Epaminondas,
of Fabricius, of Cincinnatus, and a countless host upon the rolls
of fame. Their wealth was in the mind and the heart. Those are the
treasures by which they have been immortalized, and such alone are
the treasures that are worth a serious struggle."




ON THE ADVANTAGES OF NARROW RESOURCES.


In minds of a certain cast, the title of this essay may possibly
excite surprise. It might be imagined that the writer was guided
in the choice of a subject, as the Cynic was directed in his tub,
by that misanthropy which affects to look on good and evil, with
an equal frown; or by that pride which finding itself linked to
poverty, strives to dignify the despised partner of its destiny.
Yet, in spite of these suggestions, much may be said in favour
of those narrow resources, which the superficial view with pity,
and the worldling with scorn. And further, the assertion may be
hazarded, that they are favourable to individual character and
happiness, as well as to the general cause of literature and virtue.

Repeated proofs of the first position, may be drawn from the common
scenery of life.--Observe that boy, in the early stages of his
education.--Why does he destroy his books, and cast about him his
pens and his pencils? Why are his pages the repository of blots,
and deformed with dogs-ears, and his volumes alternately his sport,
and his footstool? Because he feels that his parents are able to
purchase more. Why does he occasionally fix on their contents, a
scowling eye, and the bent brow of discontent? Fear of present
discipline, or a listless desire of winning the dainties and praises
of parental indulgence, are forcing a reluctant attention to his
lesson.

Mark that boy at his side. Why does he so carefully use his scanty
writing materials, and so faithfully return his books to their
place, when his task is finished? Because he has learnt their value
by the difficulty of obtaining them. Why does he pursue his studies
with unremitting application, yet with a cheerful countenance?
Because he considers it a privilege to be permitted to acquire
knowledge, and his studies are but a recreation from severer
labours. His mind takes its pastime along with its nourishment,
while his companion, like a prisoner, is only anxious to escape
from durance. One, in toiling to gain instruction, feels himself
the indebted party: the other, if he ever submits to it, fancies
he has conferred a favour which entitles him to commendation and
reward. This diversity of motive, will naturally produce diversity
of action; and action, long continued, becomes confirmed into
habit. Time, while he palsies the springs of energy, and quenches
the ardour of thought, adds force to those habits, which indulgence
has fostered and nourished. And will it be supposed that habits of
carelessness, watchfulness, and mental indolence, continued through
the important period of school education, will have no influence on
the future character? Is the productiveness of Autumn, not affected
by the poverty of the blossoms of Spring; or the future symmetry
of the tree, uninjured by the excrescences of the sapling? No one
imagines that early habits of industry, economy, and application,
stamped on the character in its formation, will ever be wholly
obliterated; why then, is that state of fortune considered as an
evil, which aids their implantation by the strength of necessity?

Mark that student at the University. Why is he lounging in the
fashionable walks, ogling the ladies, displaying an expensive dress,
contracting bills at the confectioner's and tailor's, late at
prayers, listless at recitations, satisfied only in the resorts of
folly, vanity, and dissipation? Why does he return home, uninformed
in mind, undecided in profession, tinctured with extravagance,
or involved in debt? Because he knew his parents were rich, and
believed that wealth was a substitute, both for science and for
virtue.

Why does a youth from the same neighbourhood, perhaps his inferior
in talents, maintain the first standing in his class, and gain the
honours of his seminary? What heightens his love of knowledge,
brightens his eye with intelligence, incites him to mark every hour
with diligence, every day with duty; what enables him to scorn
luxurious indulgence, and to endure privation with a noble hardiness
of soul? The consciousness that his family are poor, and that by his
own exertions he must stand or fall.

Thus excited to perseverance, he ascertains the extent of his own
talents, bends them to their proper objects, brightens them by
exercise, and entrusts them "to the usurer, that the Giver, at
his coming, may receive his own."--The indolent mind, weakened by
indulgence, views knowledge as "an austere man," and committing
its talent to the earth, beholds its harvest in the mildew, the
mouldering, and decay of its own powers.

Where a taste for literature exists, and the means of attaining
it are not precluded, narrow resources are favourable to its
acquisition. Would Johnson, the giant of English literature, have
gained the proud eminence which he commands, without aid from the
strong hand of necessity? Did he not even express gratitude, that
the touch of adversity had been appointed to rouse him from the
slumber of his native indolence? Is it probable that mankind would
have been delighted with the elegance of his "Prince of Abyssinia,"
if affluence had enabled him to discharge the mournful debt of his
mother's obsequies? Did not the classical Beattie trace his ardour
of literary pursuit, and his premature proficiency to the stimulus
of his bursary at Aberdeen? Did he not refer some of the most
descriptive stanzas in his "Minstrel," to his state of seclusion
and poverty, when a parish schoolmaster, and precentor, at the foot
of the Grampian Mountains?--Would the Ayrshire ploughman's "wild
bird of heaven," have displayed such varying plumage, such fearless
compass of tone, had it been confined in a gilded cage, and pampered
with the enervating luxuries of fortune?

Whatever enforces mental application, is favourable to mental
improvement; and nothing teaches the lesson of application more
thoroughly than necessity. Whatever exercises the inventive powers,
is favourable to genius, and necessity executes this office so
powerfully, that it is styled even by the common people, "the
mother of invention." The affinity between restricted resources,
and virtue, is of obvious perception. Habits of self-denial, and
self-control, insensibly lead to moderated desires, and inspire that
content which is the secret of happiness. A well-regulated mind, by
accustoming itself to privation, and sacrifice, rises superior to
selfish gratifications, and improves in that disinterested state of
the affections, which is one of the greatest objects of piety to
cultivate.--The man, whose narrow possessions are the fruit of his
own industry, will better understand their value, more studiously
avoid the vices that dissipate them, and more conscientiously limit
his expenses by his income.--Thus will he keep his spirit unhumbled
by the embarrassments of debt, and his heart unchilled by dread at
the face of a creditor. Rational economy, while it supplies him
with the means of rendering every man his due, will prove also the
legitimate fountain of charity. Profusion is no friend to pity;
and how can he have a right to be liberal, whose debts are unpaid.
The movings of Charity are silenced, by the "cry of the labourers
whose wages are kept back;" while he, whose industry has satisfied
the claims of justice, may make glad the hearts of theirs, while
his own reproaches him not. May we not suppose that the remembrance
of having ourselves known want, would soften the feelings to the
wants of others? as a participation in the sufferings of sickness,
creates deeper sympathy for the victims of disease? Who, with a
warmer overflowing of charity, would impart bread to the hungry, and
a garment to the shelterless, than the man, who had himself felt the
need of one, or by his own labour obtained possession of the other?
A class of distresses, of which the rich can have no conception, he
has entered into; and in his humble gift there will be more charity,
than in the ample donations of Pride, listening to hear Fame extol
her bounty. As the Israelites were incited to hospitality, by the
remembrance that they had once "been strangers in the land of
Egypt," so the heart that has endured the privations of poverty, can
better estimate, and more feelingly relieve them.

If the happiness of any condition be computed by its usefulness, by
the energies which it awakens, and the virtues which it cherishes,
may we not believe, that many in making up their account of life,
will have reason to bless the Almighty Disposer, that they were
shielded by his providence from the enervating influence and the
dangerous temptations of wealth.

  [_Con. Mirror_.




ACCOUNT OF MAMMOTH CAVE,

_in Kentucky and a remarkable Mummy, or dried Indian woman found in
it_.


"I received information, that an infant, of nine or twelve months
old, was discovered in a saltpetre Cave in Warren county, about four
miles from the Mammoth Cave, in a perfect state of preservation. I
hastened to the place; but, to my mortification, found that, upon
its being exposed to the atmosphere, it had fallen into dust, and
that its remains, except the skull, with all its clothing, had been
thrown into the furnace. I regretted this much, and promised the
labourers to reward them, if they would preserve the next subject
for me. About a month afterwards, the present one was discovered,
and information given to our agent at the Mammoth Cave, who sent
immediately for it, and brought and placed it there, where it
remained for twelve months. It appeared to be the exsiccated body of
a female. The account which I received of its discovery, was simply
this. It was found at the depth of about ten feet from the surface
of the Cave, bedded in clay, strongly impregnated with nitre, placed
in a sitting posture, incased in broad stones, standing on their
edges, with a flat stone covering the whole. It was enveloped in
coarse clothes, (a specimen of which accompanied it) the whole
wrapped in deer skins, the hair of which was shaved off in the
manner in which the Indians prepare them for market. Enclosed in the
stone coffin, were the working utensils, beads, feathers, and other
ornaments of dress, which belonged to her. The body was in a state
of much higher perfection, when first discovered, and continued so,
as long as it remained in the Mammoth Cave, than it is at present,
except the depredations committed on its arms and thighs by the
rats, many of which inhabit the Cave. After it was brought to
Lexington, and become the subject of great curiosity, being much
exposed to the atmosphere, it gradually began to decay, its muscles
to contract, and the teeth to drop out, and much of its hair was
plucked from its head by wanton visitants. As to the manner of its
being embalmed, or whether the nitrous earth and atmosphere had a
tendency to preserve it, must be left to the speculations of the
learned.

The Cave in which the Mummy was found, is not of great extent, not
being more than three quarters of a mile in length; its surface,
covered with loose limestone, from four to six feet deep, before you
enter the clay impregnated with nitre. It is of easy access, being
above twenty feet wide, and six feet high, at the mouth or entrance.
It is enlarged to about fifty feet wide, and ten feet high, almost
as soon as you enter it. This place had evident marks of having
once been the residence of the aborigines of the country, from the
quantity of ashes, and the remains of fuel, and torches made of the
reed, &c. which were found in it."




RECEIPT FOR MAKING ECONOMICAL BREAD.


Separate the bran and grosser part; from the flour; then take five
pounds of it (of 16 ounces) and boil them in four gallons and three
quarters of water, so that when it is dissolved, there shall remain
three gallons and three quarters of glutinous water. With this knead
fifty-six pounds of flour, adding salt and yeast, in the same manner
and in the same proportion as for other bread. When the dough is
ready to be put into the oven, divide it into loaves and let it bake
for two hours and a half.

In this way the flour will imbibe three quarters of a gallon more of
glutinous, than it would of simple water, and will yield not only
a more nutritive and substantial food, but likewise an increase
of a fifth beyond the quantity of common bread, a saving of one
day's consumption out of six. Upon this plan, fifty-six pounds of
meal will yield eighty-three pounds and a half of bread. When this
is quite stale (baked since ten days) if it be put into the oven
and left there for twenty minutes, it becomes fresh again, a very
convenient property in long sea voyages.




BREAD MADE OF RICE AND FLOUR MIXED.


Rice is an excellent substitute for wheat flour. The following
receipt for the mixture yields a solid and palatable bread.

Soften well by a slow fire a pound of rice with three quarters of a
gallon of water. When it has acquired a certain degree of heat, mix
up with it, well, four pounds of flour, some salt and yeast, as in
making common bread; knead it and put it near the fire to rise. This
will give eight pounds and a half of good bread. If the rice seems
to require more water, add, for there are several qualities of rice
which swell more than others.




JONAH'S GOURD.


"The bottle gourd, (_lagenaria_) grows in many parts of the world to
near six feet long, and two feet thick.

The rinds or shells are used by the negroes in the West India
islands as bottles, holding from one pint to many gallons. Barham
speaks of one that hold nine gallons; and the Rev. Mr. Griffith
Hughes mentions them in his history of Barbadoes, as holding
twenty-two gallons. Sloane mentions one of these gourds as large as
the human body.

       *       *       *       *       *

"The gourd called Vegetable Marrow, is of a pale yellow colour.
Those I have seen did not exceed from seven to nine inches in
length. It has only been known a few years in this country; and, I
believe, was not sold in the shops and markets before the summer
of 1819; and although they are of so late an introduction, the
accounts are very imperfect: but it seems most probable that the
seeds were brought in some East India ships, and likely from Persia,
where it is called _cicader_. It is cultivated in the same manner
as cucumbers, and is said by those who have grown them to be very
productive. This fruit is used for culinary purposes in every stage
of its growth. When very young, it is good fried with butter; when
half-grown, it is said to be excellent, either plainly boiled, and
served up sliced on toasted bread, as asparagus; or stewed with rice
sauce, for which purpose it is likewise sliced. It is often sent to
table mashed like turnips: when full grown, it is used for pies. It
has been highly recommended to me by many persons who have grown it,
while others speak of it as but little superior to the pompion."

We observe, from Galiffe, that the pumpkin is the principal food
of the lower orders in Venice; and have no doubt but that it might
be very advantageously introduced into the messes of this country,
but for the prejudice against all innovations of this sort, and
for purposes of economy. All along the Danube too, the gourd and
the melon constitute, during their season, the daily meals of the
labouring classes.




THE PROMPTER.--No. X.

_It will do for the present._


Custom, with an iron rod, rules four-fifths of mankind. My _father_
planted corn on a certain piece of land--it answered well--_I_ do
the same, though it does _not_ answer well. My neighbour such a one
tells me that I had better try a change of crops, deep ploughing, or
sowing turnips or clover; it may be the land will recruit; but my
neighbour is notional, and fond of _new things_. _I_ do not like
projects. My father did so before me, and _it does for the present_.

So says the Virginia planter; he has raised tobacco on a field,
until the soil is exhausted; he knows not how to fertilize the
land again; his only resource is to clear a new spot, and take the
benefit of nature's manure. _This does for the present._ But when
his land is _all_ impoverished, what will he do? Go to Kentucky;
as the New England men to Genesec. But when the western world is
all peopled, what will our _do for the present folks_ do for good
land? The answer is easy; necessity will compel them to use _common
sense_; and common sense will soon make old poor land rich again.
When farmers learn _to work it right_, they will keep it good, for
the Prompter ventures to assert, that a _proper tillage_ will for
ever keep land good. How does nature _work it_? Why nature covers
land with herbage; that herbage withers and rots upon the land; and
gradually forms a rich black mould. But farmers, when they have used
land till it will bear _no crops_, let it lie without feeding it. No
herbage grows on the land, till the weeds and a little grass creep
in by chance; after three or four years, the farmer ploughs it for a
crop, and has a job at killing weeds. Surely the man _does not work
it right_; but he says, _it will do for the present_.

But no _body_ is so apt to put off things with, _it will do for
the present_, as _corporate bodies_. If the navigation of a river
wants improvement, the _public body_, that is, _any body_, _every
body_, and _no body_, immediately exclaims, "how did our _fathers_
get along? The river did well enough for _them--it must do for the
present_." If a bad law exists, by which the _public money_ is to
be collected in the _worst manner_ that can be imagined; or if a
constitution is defective, in permitting the same men to be _makers_
and _judges_ of a law; or the same men to rejudge a cause in a
_higher_ court, which they have before judged in a _lower_ court;
or which makes a legislature of two hundred men, a supreme court,
to review the decisions of all inferior courts, and reverse their
judgments; or if a constitution has _no executive at all_, and a
_judiciary power_ dependent on the annual votes of two hundred men,
which is little better than _none;_ I say, if a man proposes any
reformation in those particulars, the public body says, away with
your _projects; let us go on in the good old way; it will do for
the present_. So in little public bodies, a town or a city, the
poor must be provided for, bridges must be built, roads must be
repaired--How? By a tax, or by labour. Is it best to raise money
enough this year to pay the town debt? No, says the town. We will
raise _almost_ enough; _this will do for the present_. Let a little
debt accrue every year, till the whole will make a _shilling tax_,
and pay the whole at once. Put off, put off, says the town. _And so
says the sinner._

A bridge must be built. Is it best to build a good one; of stone,
or some materials that will last? No, it will cost _more_, says the
town; a wooden bridge _will do for the present_. The water may carry
it away; it will decay, and somebody may break his neck by the fall;
but no matter, _it must do for the present_.




CHARACTER OF CHARLES JAMES FOX.

_By Sir James Macintosh_.


Mr. Fox united, in a most remarkable degree, the seemingly
repugnant characters of the mildest of men, and the most vehement
of orators. In private life he was gentle, modest, placable, kind,
of simple manners, and so averse from dogmatism, as to be not only
unostentatious, but even something inactive in conversation. His
superiority was never felt but in the instruction which he imparted,
or in the attention which his generous preference usually directed
to the more obscure members of the company. The simplicity of his
manners was far from excluding that perfect urbanity and amenity
which flowed still more from the mildness of his nature, than from
familiar intercourse with the most polished society of Europe.
The pleasantry, perhaps, of no man of wit, had so unlaboured an
appearance. It seemed rather to escape from his mind, than to be
produced by it. He had lived on the most intimate terms with all
his contemporaries distinguished by wit, politeness, or philosophy,
or learning, or the talents of public life. In the course of thirty
years he had known almost every man in Europe, whose intercourse
could strengthen, or enrich, or polish the mind. His own literature
was various and elegant. In classical erudition, which by the custom
of England is more peculiarly called learning, he was inferior to
few professed scholars. Like all men of genius, he delighted to take
refuge in poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation of business.
His own verses were easy and pleasant, and might have claimed no
low place among those which the French call _vers de société_. The
poetical character of his mind was displayed by his extraordinary
partiality for the poetry of the two most poetical nations, or
at least languages of the west, those of the Greeks and of the
Italians. He disliked political conversation, and never willingly
took any part in it.

To speak of him justly as an orator would require a long essay.
Every where natural, he carries into public something of that simple
and negligent exterior which belonged to him in private. When he
began to speak, a common observer, might have thought him awkward;
and even a consummate judge could only have been struck with the
exquisite justness of his ideas, and the transparent simplicity of
his manners. But no sooner had he spoken for some time than he
was changed into another being. He forgot himself and every thing
around him. He thought only of his subject. His genius warmed and
kindled as he went on. He darted fire into his audience. Torrents
of impetuous eloquence swept along their feelings and convictions.
He certainly possesses above all moderns, that union of reason,
simplicity, and vehemence, which formed the prince of orators. He
was the most Demosthenian speaker since the days of Demosthenes. "I
knew him," says Mr. Burke, in a pamphlet written after their unhappy
difference, "when he was nineteen; since which he has risen, by slow
degrees, to the most brilliant and accomplished debater the world
ever saw."

The quiet dignity of a mind roused only by great objects, the
absence of petty bustle, the contempt of show, the abhorrence
of intrigue, the plainness and down-rightness, and the thorough
good-nature which distinguished Mr. Fox, seem to render him no unfit
representative of the old English character, which, if it ever
changed, we should be sanguine indeed to expect to see it succeeded
by a better. The simplicity of his character inspired confidence,
the ardour of his eloquence roused enthusiasm, and the gentleness
of his manner invited friendship. "I admired," says Mr. Gibbon,
after describing a day passed with him at Lausanne, "the powers of a
superior man, as they are blended in his attractive character, with
all the softness and simplicity of a child; no human being was ever
more free from any taint of malignity, vanity, or falsehood."

The measures which he supported or opposed may divide the opinion
of posterity, as they have divided those of the present age. But
he will most certainly command the unanimous reverence of future
generations, by his pure sentiments towards the commonwealth, by his
zeal for the civil and religious rights of all men, by his liberal
principles, favourable to mild government, to the unfettered
exercise of the human faculties, and the progressive civilization of
mankind; by his ardent love for a country of which the well-being
and greatness were, indeed, inseparable from his own glory; and by
his profound reverence for that free constitution, which he was
universally admitted to understand better than any other man of his
age, both in an actually legal, and in a comprehensive philosophical
sense.




PUBLIC LANDS.


  _Washington City, Nov. 18._

An interesting document was transmitted by the Secretary of the
Treasury to the Senate, in pursuance of a resolution of that house
at the late Session, containing a body of information on the subject
of the lands of the United States purchased from the Indians; the
quantity sold; for how much sold, &c. &c. The sums which have been
paid, and remain to be paid under Treaties made with the Indian
tribes, to indemnify them for cessions of lands to the United
States is 2,542,916 dollars. The expense of surveying the Public
Lands, from 4th of March, 1789 to 31st December, 1819, has been
4,243,632 dollars. The whole quantity of land which has been sold
by the United states, as well before as since the opening of the
Land Offices, up to, 30th September, 1819, is 20,138,482 acres;
and the amount for which it has been sold is 45,098,696 dollars.
Of this amount, 22,229,180 dollars had been paid, and 22,000,657
_remained to be paid_, at the close of Sept. 1819. The quantity of
lands surveyed in the several Land Office Districts is 72,805,092
acres, whereof 13,601,930 acres have been sold, leaving 54,203,162
acres unsold. The quantity surveyed for military bounty lands,
is 12,315,360 acres. The whole quantity of land purchased from
the Indians by the various treaties and cessions is estimated at
191,978,536 acres.




_Extracts from the last Edinburgh Review._


"Mr. Lewis Burckhardt was a young Swiss, employed by the African
Association to make discoveries in that country. He is recently
dead; and the society are now publishing the result of his labours.
Thoroughly aware that a great part of the failures of African
discoveries proceeded from their want of previous education in the
customs, manners, and languages of the east, Mr. Burckhardt prepared
himself, by the study of Arabic, by a residence of six years in
Syria and Egypt, by journies in Nubia, Palestine, in Arabia, and in
the countries between Egypt and the Red sea, for his great purpose
of penetrating into the heart of Africa. His knowledge of Arabic and
the Koran, were so great, that after the severest examination by
doctors of the Mohammedan law, appointed for that express purpose
by Mohammed Ali, pacha of Egypt, he was pronounced to be not only a
real, but a very learned Mohammedan. But as his skill in oriental
manners and languages improved, his constitution became impaired;
and he became as last the victim of a tour in Arabia: dying better
qualified than any traveller hitherto employed by the association
for the purpose of discovery in Africa."

"Some of his excursions were very unfortunate--twice, in spite of
solemn bargains with shekhs and high blooded Arabs, he is deserted
and pillaged in the desert. In one of these instances, the robbers
leave him nothing but his breeches. These he thought tolerably
secure; but he was not yet sufficiently acquainted with the manners
and customs of the east. A female Arab met him with these breeches;
and a very serious conflict for them ensued between the parties. The
association have not stated the result.

"We are much struck by the perpetual miseries to which this
traveller is subjected. In all his journies, he seems kick'd and
cuff'd by the whole party, and subjected to the grossest contempt
and derision, for the appearance of poverty he always thought
it prudent to assume. His system was, that the less display of
wealth a man makes in the east the safer he is. This may be true
enough in general; but when he travelled with a caravan containing
merchants who had ten or twelve camels, and twenty or thirty slaves
each, he might surely have ventured on the display of one camel,
and one or two slaves; for in one journey he travels upon an ass,
without a slave; and in consequence his own wood to cut, his
water skins to fill, and his supper to dress. He receives as much
respect, therefore, as a man would do who was to rub down his own
horse in England; and is well nigh overpowered by the great and
unnecessary fatigues to which this violent economy subjects him. We
do not remember that other travellers in Africa, proceeding with
caravans, have found it necessary to affect such an extreme state
of pauperism; and Mr. Burckhardt himself admits, that Ali Bey, the
pretended Arabian, penetrated every where in the east by the very
opposite system of magnificence and profusion, even though he was
suspected not to be a Mussulman by the natives themselves."

"In his visit to the peninsula of Mount Sinai, Mr. Burckhardt meets
with a substance which he considers to be the same as the manna
mentioned in the books of Moses.

"'A botanist would find a rich harvest in these high regions, in the
most elevated parts of which, a variety of sweet scented herbs grow.
The Bedouins collect to this day the manna, under the very same
circumstances described in the books of Moses. Whenever the rains
have been plentiful during the winter, it drops abundantly from the
tamarisk (in Arabic, Tarfa;) a tree very common in the Syrian and
Arabian deserts, but producing, as far as I know, no manna any where
else. They gather it before sunrise, because, if left in the sun
it melts; its taste is very sweet, much resembling honey; they use
it as we do sugar, principally in their dishes composed of flour.
When purified over the fire, it keeps for many months; the quantity
collected is inconsiderable, because it is exclusively the produce
of the Tarfa, which tree is met with only in a few vallies at the
foot of the highest granite chain. The inhabitants of the peninsula,
amounting to almost four thousand, complain of the want of rain
and of pasturage; the state of the country must therefore be much
altered from what it was in the time of Moses, when all the tribes
of Beni Israel found food here for their cattle.'"




COTTON-SEED OIL.


The subject of _Cotton-seed Oil_, is gaining attention, and
obtaining investigations, both in Europe and America. It is a
subject highly important to the southern states. Millions of bushels
of cotton seed are annually used as manure for corn, wheat, &c.
in South Carolina. For this purpose the article is worth, at the
present reduced prices of staple commodities, about 12 or 15 cents
a bushel; weighing about 25 lbs. lightly thrown in. One hundred
pounds of cotton seed, yields about 27 pounds of clean cotton, and
about three bushels of seed. The oleaginous quality of the pulp of
cotton-seed has long been known; and it is believed that any given
quantity of it contains as much oil as a like quantity of the pulp
of any other seed. As to its qualities, they are not all fully
developed; but considerable experience among leather-dressers in
North Carolina, has proven it to be equal to any other oil for
currying of leather for shoes, boots, harness, &c. Whether it can
be made to take the place of linseed oil, in painting, or of olive
in manufactures, remains to be determined. The great difficulty
attending the extracting of oil from cotton-seed, lies in the soft
and spongy texture of the shell which encloses the pulp, which with
the short firbs of cotton adhering to it, absorbs a great portion
of oil in the process. If the seed could be made to pass hastily
through fire, by the operation of machinery, to divest it of the
adhering cotton, then it seems probable that a machine somewhat
similar to that made for hulling barley, would take off the shell
or hull with great expedition. From all the light elicited on the
subject, it appears probable, that each bushel of seed might produce
a gallon of oil; and that the pulp, after the extraction of the
oil, would still be valuable for feeding cattle or for manure. For
every bale of cotton there might be produced about ten gallons of
oil: this, should the demand for oil continue, would be equal to
half or two-thirds the value of the cotton. The subject is highly
important to this state: and it is humbly conceived, would be worthy
of attention of the Agricultural Society of South Carolina, and
perhaps of legislative aid, by way of premiums, to encourage further
practical investigation.

  [_Pee Dee Gazette._




_Nantucket whale fishery._--The number of ships now employed in
the whale fishery by the people of the small Island of Nantucket
is 72--28 of them between 3 and 400 tons. In addition to which
they have a large number of brigs and smaller vessels in the same
employment.

_A running horse_, lately died in England, for which the owner was
offered a few days before upwards of _fifteen thousand dollars_.


CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES.

_Statement showing the Commencement and Termination of each Session
of Congress, held under the present Constitution, with the number of
days in each._

  A: CONGRESS.
  B: SESSION.
  C: YEAR OF INDEPENDENCE.
  D: NO. OF DAYS IN EACH SESSION.

  -----+---+------------------+------------------+----+-----+---------------
    A  | B |       FROM       |        TO        | C  |  D  |  WHERE HELD.
  -----+---+------------------+------------------+----+-----+---------------
   1 { | 1 |March      4, 1789|September 29, 1789| 13 | 210 |   New York
     { | 2 |January    4, 1790|August    12, 1790| 14 | 221 |      do
     { | 3 |December   6, 1790|March      3, 1791| 15 |  88 | Philadelphia
   2 { | 1 |October   24, 1791|May        8, 1792| 16 |  98 |      do
     { | 2 |November   5, 1792|March      2, 1793| 17 | 119 |      do
   3 { | 1 |December   2, 1793|June       9, 1794| 18 | 190 |      do
     { | 2 |November   3, 1794|March      3, 1795| 19 | 121 |      do
   4 { | 1 |December   7, 1795|June       1, 1796| 20 | 178 |      do
     { | 2 |December   5, 1796|March      3, 1797| 21 |  89 |      do
     { | 1 |May       15, 1797|July      10, 1797| 21 |  57 |      do
   5 { | 2 |November  13, 1797|July      16, 1798| 22 | 247 |      do
     { | 3 |December   3, 1798|March      3, 1799| 23 |  90 |      do
   6 { | 1 |December   2, 1799|May       14, 1800| 24 | 165 |      do
     { | 2 |November  17, 1800|March      3, 1801| 25 | 107 |Washington City
   7 { | 1 |December   7, 1801|May        3, 1802| 26 | 138 |      do
     { | 2 |December   6, 1802|March      3, 1803| 27 |  88 |      do
   8 { | 1 |October   17, 1803|March     27, 1804| 28 | 163 |      do
     { | 2 |November   5, 1804|March      3, 1805| 29 | 119 |      do
   9 { | 1 |December   2, 1805|April     21, 1806| 30 | 141 |      do
     { | 2 |December   1, 1806|March      3, 1807| 31 |  93 |      do
  10 { | 1 |October   26, 1807|April     25, 1808| 32 | 183 |      do
     { | 2 |November   7, 1808|March      3, 1809| 33 | 117 |      do
     { | 1 |May       22, 1809|June      28, 1809| 33 |  38 |      do
  11 { | 2 |November  27, 1809|May        1, 1810| 34 | 156 |      do
     { | 3 |December   3, 1810|March      3, 1811| 35 |  91 |      do
  12 { | 1 |November   4, 1811|July       6, 1812| 36 | 246 |      do
     { | 2 |November   2, 1812|March      3, 1813| 37 |  94 |      do
     { | 1 |May       24, 1813|August     2, 1813| 37 |  71 |      do
  13 { | 2 |December   6, 1813|April     18, 1814| 38 | 134 |      do
     { | 3 |September 19, 1814|March      3, 1815| 39 | 166 |      do
  14 { | 1 |December   4, 1815|April     30, 1816| 40 | 149 |      do
     { | 2 |December   2, 1816|March      3, 1817| 41 |  92 |      do
  15 { | 1 |December   1, 1817|April     30, 1818| 42 | 151 |      do
     { | 2 |November  16, 1818|March      3, 1819| 43 | 108 |      do
  16 { | 1 |December   6, 1819|May       15, 1820| 44 | 162 |      do
     { | 2 |November  13, 1820|March      3, 1821| 45 | 111 |      do
  -----+---+------------------+------------------+----+-----+---------------




MISCELLANY.


_Gluten an Antidote for Corrosive Sublimate._--During the researches
undertaken by Dr. Taddei on gluten, and on wheaten flour, he
discovered that gluten had the property of acting on the red oxide
of mercury, and on corrosive sublimate. If it be mixed with either
of these substances, it immediately loses its viscidity, becomes
hard, and is not at all liable to putrefaction. Further, if flower
be made into a paste, with solution of corrosive sublimate, it is
impossible to separate the gluten and starch in the usual way. This
effect induced Dr. Taddei to suppose, that in cases of poisoning
by corrosive sublimate, wheaten flour and gluten would prove
excellent antidotes to the poison. It was found by experiment, that
wheaten flour and gluten, reduced corrosive sublimate to the state
of calomel; and also that considerable quantities, of a mixture of
flour or gluten with corrosive sublimate, might be eaten by animals
without producing injury; thus fourteen grains of sublimate have
been given in less than twelve hours to rabbits and poultry without
injury, whereas a single grain was sufficient to produce death when
administered alone. A grain of the sublimate required from twenty
to twenty-five grains of fresh gluten to become innocuous; when dry
gluten was used, half this quantity was sufficient, but when wheaten
flour was taken, from fifteen to eighteen denari, (500 or 600 gr.,)
were required. Dr. Taddei recommends that dried gluten be kept in
the apothecaries' shops, and that it be administered when required,
mixed with a little water.--_Giornale di Fisica_, 2. p. 375.


_Anecdote._--During the examinations of Surgeons for the army
or navy, it is well known that the veterans of that respectable
class, question very minutely those who wish to become qualified.
After answering very satisfactorily to the numerous inquiries made,
a young gentlemen was asked; if he wished to give his patient a
profuse perspiration, what he would prescribe? He mentioned many
diaphoretic medicines in case the first failed, and had some hopes
that he should pass with credit, but the unmerciful querist thus
continued:-- "Pray, sir, suppose none of those succeeded, what step
would you take next?" "Why, sir," rejoined the harassed son of
Esculapius, "I would send him here to be examined, and if _that_
would not give him a sweat, I know not what would."


_Cutting of Wheat before it is ripe._--It is said by a Paris paper
that grain cut eight days before the ordinary time, has, first,
the advantage of escaping the dangers which threatened it at that
period. This is accidental, but it has the positive advantage of
being more nutritive, larger, finer, and is never attacked by
the weasel. These assertions are proved by the most conclusive
experiments, made upon a piece of corn, half of which was cut
prematurely, the other half at the customary time. The first part
gave a hectolitre more corn for a half hectare. Afterwards an equal
quantity of the farina was made into bread; that of the corn cut
when green, made from six decalitres seven lbs. more bread than the
other. Finally, the weasel attacked the corn cut when ripe, and the
other was free from it. The moment to reap, is, when the grain,
squeezed between the fingers, appears pasty, like the crumb of bread
immediately after it is taken from the oven. This, which is the
opinion of Mr. Cadet de Vaux, is supported by that of Mr. Mellard,
a very respectable agriculturist. They both confirm their theory by
experiments. The same custom has been practised for many years at
the magnificent farm of Mr. Coke, at Holkham, in England, who cuts
not only his grain before its maturity, but likewise grasses, and
even herbaceous plants. He does not hesitate to attribute to this
measure the superior quality of his corn and hay to that of other
farmers, who reap all things at the period of their perfect maturity.

_Seduction._--A verdict of damages, to the amount of fourteen
hundred and fifty dollars, was lately given in Ohio, in a case of
seduction. This is "paying dear for the whistle."

_Milk and Water._--We have received a communication (says the N.
Y. Gazette,) from a very respectable source, giving an estimate of
the probable quantity of milk sold in New-York in one year, and
the quantity of water in the milk; by which it appears, that the
citizens of New York pay in one year the sum of $35,587 for water.
Our correspondent's calculations follow. He supposes the city to
contain 120,000 inhabitants, 6 to a family--20,000 families, at
3 cents worth of milk per day, is $600, or 219,000 for one year;
to which is added one twelfth for strangers, &c. making $237,250.
Deduct one fifteenth, or $35,587, which is annually paid for the
WATER, with which the milk is reduced.--Our correspondent requests
us to add, that he can prove the facts above stated, if called upon
by the proper authority. He is himself an extensive dealer in milk,
and is well acquainted with the management of most of those in his
line.

_Turkey Cement for joining Metals, Glass, &c._--The jewellers
in Turkey, who are mostly Armenians, have a curious method of
ornamenting watch cases, and similar things with diamonds and other
stones by simply gluing them on. The stone is set in silver or
gold, and the lower part of the metal made flat, or to correspond
with the part to which it is to be fixed; it is then warmed gently
and the glue applied, which is so very strong that the parts never
separate. This glue, which may be applied to many purposes, as it
will strongly join bits of glass or polished steel, is thus made:

Dissolve five or six bits of mastic, as large as peas, in as much
spirits of wine as will suffice to render it liquid; in another
vessel dissolve as much isinglass, which has been previously soaked
in water till it is swollen and soft, in French brandy or in rum, as
will make two ounces, by measure, of strong glue, and add two small
bits of gum galbanum, or ammoniacum, which must be rubbed or ground
until they are dissolved; then mix the whole with a sufficient heat.
Keep it in a phial stopped; and when it is used, set it in hot water.

_Death of Col. Boon._--Col. Daniel Boon, the first white man that
ever settled in Kentucky, lately died at his residence, near
Franklin, Missouri, at the age of 98. He had 4 brothers and three
sisters, of the following ages:--

Samuel Boon 88, Jonathan B. 86, Squire B. 76, George B. 83, Mrs.
Wilcox 91, Mrs. Smith 83, and Mrs. Grant 84.

_Council Bluffs._--A letter from Brigadier General Atkinson,
stationed at Council Bluffs, states that at least 10,000 bushels of
Indian corn, 4000 of potatoes, a like quantity of turnips, and about
250 tons of hay had been raised and harvested at that station during
the last season. As a sample of the crop of Indian corn, an acre was
measured, which gave upwards of 102 bushels. The turnip crop was
much injured by the grasshoppers, and it is stated that if these
insects had appeared three weeks sooner they would have totally
destroyed the crop of corn. It would seem that they are often
very formidable in that quarter, frequently cutting off the crops
entirely. The most of the Indians in that country are friendly.
One or two tribes however, indicate some signs of hostility. They
were much delighted with the exhibition of the steam boat, and as
much intimidated by a display of the powers of the artillery, on an
occasion when a large concourse of them were assembled at the Bluffs.

_Double-jointed Indian._--A Detroit paper of November 10, says, a
Mr. Robinson lately brought to that place an Indian from the country
Mackinaw who has double the usual number of joints in the human
frame. He is unable to stand, but can give himself locomotion by
being placed in a large wooden bowl, which he is enabled to whirl
or roll about on level grounds. Mr. R. also gives an account of an
Indian in that country that is entirely covered with hair, his face
as well as every other part of his body, and that on his arms and
legs the hair is several inches in length.

_Population of Baltimore._--In 1790 the number of inhabitants in
this city and its precincts, was 13,503.--In 1800, 26,514--In 1810,
46,555, and by the present census 62,627.

_A New Sect of Christians_ are said to have lately appeared at
Marietta, (Ohio) who call themselves Halcyons. They believe that
Aaron's breastplate, called by the Jews Urim and Thummim, which has
long been lost, must be retrieved before the resurrection of the
dead.

_Ivory Paper._--The Society for the encouragement of Arts,
Manufactures and Commerce, in London, have voted thirty guineas
to Mr. S. Einsle, for his communication on the use of artists. He
produced, before the Committee of his Society several specimens of
his ivory paper, about the eighth of an inch, and of superficial
dimensions, much larger than the largest ivory: the surface was
hard, smooth, and perfectly even. On trial of these, by some of the
artists, members of the society, it appears that colours may be
washed off the ivory paper more completely than from ivory itself,
and that the process may be repeated three or four times on the
same surface, without rubbing up the grain of the paper. It will
also, with proper care, bear to be scraped with the edge of a knife,
without becoming rough.

_Vegetable Antidotes to Poison._--Dr. Chisholm in a paper read to
the Society at Geneva, states, that the juice of the sugar cane is
the best antidote known for arsenic. It has been tried upon various
animals in the West Indies with complete success.

The American Academy of Languages and Belles Lettres, at New York,
has offered a premium of not _less_ than 400 dollars and a Gold
Medal, to the author, being an American Citizen, who, within two
years, shall produce the best written history of the United States,
calculated for a Class Book.

_Increase of Population in America._--In 1810, the population of the
United States was 7,323,903. By the recent official report of the
secretary of the treasury, it appears that our population progresses
in the ratio of 34 per cent, in ten years. Proceeding on this
basis, for the next 80 years, which will terminate this century, we
shall find the following result.

  In 1820  9,827,265 Inhabitants.
       30  13,168,534
       40  17,545,844
       50  23,644,433
       60  31,584,633
       70  42,325,903
       80  56,716,716
       90  76,000,399
     1900 101,840,534.

Such a review as this ought to produce a salutary influence on all
the busy actors who now figure on the American theatre.

The probability is, that not one mortal now in being, of mature age,
will be seen on the face of the earth in eighty years; although
many of our youth will reach that proud era of American glory. What
a solemn responsibility devolves on all the conspicuous actors of
the present day, since this generation is destined to influence the
happiness of one hundred millions of free born Americans in the
short span of 80 years! This reflection offers to the contemplative
mind, an extensive range.

_Drought._--A letter, from a gentleman in Virginia, says that the
drought has been greater there the last summer, than has been known
for many years: on inquiry respecting its extent, he was informed by
a facetious old farmer, that "he had to drive his stock thirty miles
to water, but the worst of all was, he had to _cross a river_, in
his way, and pay the _ferryage_."

  _Square Miles of the States._--In
  Vermont, the number of
  square miles is          10,237
  New Hampshire,            9,491
  Maine, about             40,000
  Massachusetts, is         6,250
  Rhode Island, about       1,580
  Connecticut,              4,674
  New York,                45,000
  New Jersey,               8,320
  Pennsylvania,            46,800
  Delaware,                 2,120
  Maryland,                14,000
  Virginia,                70,000
  North Carolina,          48,000
  South Carolina,          24,080
  Georgia,                 62,000
  Kentucky,                50,000
  Tennessee, length 400 miles,
  breadth                     400
  Ohio,                    39,128

The States of Louisiana, Indiana, Illinois, and Alabama, the number
of square miles of each, not ascertained. There are 22 States in
the Union, each of which have a Legislature, who make all the laws
necessary for the government of each State distinct from that of the
United States.--

  [_Boston Gazette._

_Advice and Caution._--When old persons enveigh against the
vanity and nonsense of the world in order to check the wishes
and curiosities of young persons from making their experiments
also, they remind me of the indifference with which a man hands a
newspaper to his neighbour, after an hour's enjoyment of it, saying,
"There's nothing in it, sir." The poet speaks more philosophically
on this subject.

      --For youth no less becomes
    The light and careless livery that it wears,
    Than settled age his tables and his weeds
    Importing health and graveness.

  [_Hamlet._


_Drawing the wrong tooth._--One of the most curious applications of
galvanism to the useful purposes of life, is its recent employment
as a means of distinguishing bad teeth from good. The test which
galvanism has now supplied to remedy the frequent mistakes made by
dentists, who, instead of ridding you of a bad tooth, will draw
the best tooth you have in your head, is considered to be one
of infallible certainty in its application. The method is thus
described by Professor Aldini, the nephew of Galvani. "He (the
dentist) first insulates the patient, and then places in his hands
an electric chain; he then applies a small piece of wire, and draws
it gradually over the surface of the tooth; he then applies it
to the next tooth in the same manner, and proceeds in the like
method with the rest until he comes to the diseased tooth, which
is discovered by violent pain being produced, and an involuntary
emotion in the body. It has always been remarked when the tooth is
extracted, that it exhibits a careous part, which in its proper
situation was not visible." Need we add, that after the discovery of
so simple a test, drawing a wrong tooth ought to be made felony at
least?

_Chemistry applied to industrious Economy._--A new method of killing
animals, without causing them pain, has been adopted in London: they
are made to expire by means of nitrogen gas. By this means the meat
is rendered much more fresh, of a more agreeable taste, and may
be preserved for a greater length of time. A great number of the
butchers of London already employ this process.

_Olives, Curious Fact in Botany._--Letters from Provence, mention
the total failure of the olive plantations in that part of France.
It has, indeed, been remarked, that for upwards of half a century,
the olives have shown a tendency to emigrate. The soil of Province
now appears to be entirely ruined, and no hope is entertained there
of the future cultivation of olives. For the last fifty years, none
of the young shoots have risen to above five or six feet high. It is
the same in the adjacent countries, which have all suffered more or
less from the cold of late years.--Two fifths of these plants have
been cut down to the very roots; and three years will scarce suffice
to enable them to attain maturity. The olives of Marseilles and Var
were some time ago in excellent condition; but all have perished.

_Rein-deer._--Two rein-deers were brought last November, from
Lapland, and are living at liberty at a country seat near Ghent.
They bear the difference of climate and the variation of temperature
well, and have produced a well-formed female fawn. This is the
first example of these animals having become tame and producing
their species so far from their own country.

_Domestic sewing silk_, of various colours, gathered, from worms
raised in Connecticut, and spun there, and said to be of the very
best quality, has recently been publicly exposed for sale in Albany.

_William Griffith, Esq._ of Burlington, N. J., a gentleman
highly recommended by the veterans of the bar in this city, has
issued proposals for printing a new work to be called the 'LAW
REGISTER'--to make one volume of at least 500 _closely_ printed
pages, royal 8vo. for five dollars, per annum, payable on delivery.
Subscriptions to be addressed, (post paid,) to Mr. David Allison,
Burlington, N. J.

_On the increase of sounds during the night._--It has been remarked,
even by the ancients, that the intensity of sound is greatly
increasing during the night.--Humboldt was particularly struck with
this fact when he heard the noise of the great cataracts of the
Orinoco in the plain which surrounds the Mission of the Apures.
This noise is three times greater in the night than in the day.
Some writers have ascribed this to the cessation of the humming of
insects, the singing of birds, and the action of the wind upon the
leaves of trees: but this cannot be the cause of it at the Orinoco,
where the humming of insects is much greater in the night than in
the day, and where the breeze is never felt till after sunset.
Humboldt, therefore, ascribes it to the presence of the sun, which
acts on the propagation and intensity of sound, by opposing them
with currents of air of different density, and partial undulations
of the atmosphere, caused by the unequal heating of different parts
of the ground. In these cases the waves of sound are divided into
two waves, where the density of the medium suddenly changes, and
a sort of _acoustic mirage_ is produced, arising from the want of
homogenity of the air in the same manner as the _luminous mirage_ is
produced from an analogous cause.--_Ann. de Chim._

_Gil Blas and Don Quixote._--These very ingenious and diverting
authors seem calculated to please readers of very different
descriptions. I have observed that literary men are most delighted
with Don Quixote, and men of the world with Gil Blas. Perhaps
the preference of Don Quixote in the former may be ascribed to
the sympathy which learned readers feel for the knight, whose
aberrations of intellect originated from too intense an application
to books of his own selection, and from whims which his own brains
engendered.

_Learned Ladies._--A person who frequently attended the Royal
Institution, and who was both astonished and delighted with the
numerous attendence of the fair sex at these scientific lectures,
observed with a smile somewhat Sardonic, that he saw great advantage
arising from that circumstance, as he was sure that for the future
the sciences would no longer have any secrets.

_Baron Smyth's Riddle._--Some men of the greatest talents have taken
delight in composing or endeavouring to unravel riddles. Dean Swift
is a case in point. Sir William Smyth, the learned Irish Baron of
the Exchequer, at one time spent two days and nights in considering
the answer to this conundrum: Why is an egg underdone, like an egg
overdone? He would not suffer any one to give him the answer, which
he at last discovered. It is a tolerable pun enough. Because they
are both _hardly_ done.

_Disputants._--How often men who love argument in conversation
follow victory, and not truth. In order to entrap the adversary,
a brilliant illustration is substituted for argument, to amuse
the opponent, and divert him from the line of his reasoning. Bird
catchers carry a light with them to intice their prey into their
nets, and so the leathered tribe are allured to their captivity.
High-flying disputants who are thus led aside by false lights are
not uncommon.


GOVERNORS.

_In the different states, are chosen as follows:_

New Hampshire, annually, in March, by the people.

Massachusetts, annually, in April, by the people.

Maine, annually, in January, by the people.

Rhode Island, annually, by the people, though this state retains its
original charter of 1663.

Connecticut, annually, in April, by the people.

Vermont, annually, in September, by the people.

New York, once in three years, in April, by the people.

New Jersey, annually, by the council and assembly.

Pennsylvania, once in three years, in October, by the people.

Delaware, once in three years, in October, by the people.

Maryland, annually, in December, by the general assembly.

Virginia, annually, by joint ballot of the general assembly.

North Carolina, annually, "by the Senate and House of Commons."

South Carolina, once in two years, by the "Senate and House of
Representatives."

Georgia, once in two years, by the general assembly.

Louisiana, once in four years, by the people.

Kentucky, once in four years, by the people.

Ohio, once in two years, by the people.

Tennessee, once in two years, by the people.

Mississippi, once in two years, by the people.

Indiana, once in three years, by the people.

Alabama, once in two years, by the people.

From which we find that ten states elect their governor annually,
six once in two years, four once in three years, three once in four
years--23 states; and that the _people_ have a direct _voice_ in the
election, in all the states, except six.

  [_Bost. Gaz._

_Dreaming._--Mr. Andrew Carmichael has published a very ingenious
theory of dreaming. He enumerates no less than seven different
states of sleeping and waking--1. When the entire brain and nervous
system are buried in sleep; then there is a total exemption from
dreaming. 2. When some of the mental organs are awake, and all the
senses are asleep: then dreams occur, and seem to be realities.
3. When the above condition exists, and the nerves of voluntary
motion are also in a state of wakefulness; then may occur the rare
phenomenon of somnambulism. 4. When one of the senses is awake, with
some of the mental organs; then we may be conscious, during our
dream, of its illusory nature. 5. When some of the mental organs are
asleep, and two or more senses awake; then we can attend to external
impressions, and notice the gradual departure of our slumbers.
6. When we are totally awake, and in full possession of all our
faculties and powers. 7. When under these circumstances we are so
occupied with mental operations as not to attend to the impressions
of external objects; and then our reverie deludes us like a dream.

_Druids._--We learn that the ancient Druids reckoned their days not
by the course of the sun, but by that of the moon. Perhaps some
learned ladies of this age have adopted the almanack of the Druids,
and regulate their days or rather nights, by this planet; and the
dame of fashion, like the Satan in Paradise Lost, never thinks of
the sun, but to address him in the lines of that immortal bard.

  "To tell him how she hates his beams."




FOR THE RURAL MAGAZINE.


The present condition of the Aborigines of this country is specially
fitted to awaken the sympathy of every feeling heart. They where
once the exclusive proprietors of this immense continent; but
successive inroads have been so rapidly made on their rights, that
they have been dwindled, as to power and numbers, into absolute
insignificance. Our ancestors fled from persecution and tyranny,
and sought in this region an asylum, in which, they might enjoy
civil and religious liberty. _They were not disappointed._ They
were received with kindness and hospitality by the natives, a fact,
which we their descendants should never forget. And what return
has too frequently been made for this generous conduct?--Unjust
and inhuman treatment,--the introduction of ruin amongst them--And
generally, the pernicious influence of bad example. Notwithstanding
these painful circumstances some of them occasionally visit the land
of ONAS, to light the calumet of peace and brighten the chain of
friendship, which uniformly subsisted between him and their fathers.
A journey of this kind was recently made to Philadelphia by a
number of Cherokee warriors. The earthly career of one of them, was
terminated in this vicinity, and his exequies were performed by his
brethren on the 6th of August last, in the woods back of Bartram's
gardens. This incident, has furnished the subject of the following
stanzas.




THE CHEROKEE'S GRAVE.


    Calm be thy slumbers thou heart broken stranger,
    And downy the hillock which pillows thy head,
    The grave is a refuge from sorrow and danger,
    Were wrong and oppression pursue not the dead:
    Though far from thy cabin, thy kindred, and nation.
    Unwept and unhonour'd thy relics repose,
    Ere sleep with her poppies shall steal o'er creation.
    Oft a requiem will hallow the even's still close:
    And he who may wander at that witching hour,
    On the banks of the Schuylkill the greenwood among,
    Shall listen with rapture as night's shadows lower.
    To a soul thrilling anthem by mortals unsung.
    And there shall a cenotaph rise to the glory,
    Which gilds with mild halo the temples of PENN.
    Whose laurels still bloom in their records of story,
    As the friend of the Indian,--the noblest of men.
    But ere the wrapt minstrels evanish for ever,
    May the _Great Spirit_ grant them the heart cheering boon,
    That the lucid example he furnished,--may never,
    Be 'merg'd in the darkness which rests on the tomb:
    That so long as the rivers replenish the ocean,
    And still while with verdure the spring crowns the trees,
    The heart of the white man may feel sad emotion,
    When the woes of the Indian shall sigh in the breeze.
    Calm be thy slumbers thou heart broken stranger.
    And downy the hillock which pillows thy head,
    The grave is a refuge from sorrow and danger,
    Where wrong and oppression pursue not the
    dead.

  E.




HOPE.


    Come flattering Hope! now woes distress me,
      Thy flattery I desire again;
    Again rely on thee to bless me,
      To find thy vainness doubly vain,

    Though disappointments vex and fetter,
      And jeering whisper, thou art vain,
    Still must I rest on thee for better,
      Still hope--and be deceived again.




ANGLER.


    When smiling in the pride of May,
    The meads are green, the blossoms gay,
    When fleecy clouds the sky adorn,
    Across the dew-bespangled lawn,
    The angler hies with nimble pace,
    Eager to snare the finny race.
    The glowing landscape charms his eyes,
    Within his ardent bosom rise
    Fond hopes, that numerous watery spoils,
    Ere night, will crown his pleasing toils.
    But ah! ere he his art can try,
    And throw the well-dissembled fly,
    Wherein the swift meandering brook
    The trout may seize his fraudful hook;
    Soon in his mind with fear dismay'd,
    The landscape darkens into shade,
    Black gathering clouds obscure the skies,
    The winds in hollow murmurs rise,
    The rains in copious streams descend,
    And all his fairy visions end.
    The Angler now, with rapid feet,
    Hastens to find a dry retreat,
    And homeward takes his dripping way,
    Sad disappointment's pensive sway,
    Still he resolves, the following morn,
    Again to trace the verdant lawn,
    Again to try his angle's wiles,
    And trust the weather's tempting smiles.
    HOPE, like the limpid stream he loves,
    With various course, still onward moves;
    Though rising high, or sinking low,
    Yet never ceases it to flow.




THE MOTHER'S LAMENT.

_By Bernard Barton._


    Pale and cold is the cheek that my kisses oft press'd,
      And quench'd is the beam of that bright-sparkling eye;
    For the soul, which its innocent glances confess'd,
      Has flown to its God and its Father on high.

    No more shall the accents, whose tones were more dear
      Than the sweetest of sounds even music can make,
    In notes full of tenderness fall on my ear;
      If I catch them in dreams, all is still when I wake,

    No more the gay smiles that those features display'd
      Shall transiently light up their own mirth in mine;
    Yet, though these, and much more, be now cover'd in shade,
      I must not, I cannot, and dare not repine.

    However enchantingly flattering and fair.
      Were the hopes, that for thee, I had ventur'd to build,
    Can a frail, finite mortal presume to declare
      That the future those hopes would have ever fulfilled?

    In the world thou hast left, there is much to allure
      The most innocent spirit from virtue and peace:
    Hadst thou liv'd, would thy own have been equally pure,
      And guileless, and happy, in age's increase?

    Temptation, or sooner or later, had found thee;
      Perhaps had seduc'd thee from pathways of light;
    Till the dark clouds of vice, gath'ring gloomily round thee,
      Had enrapt thee for ever in horror and night.

    But _now_, in the loveliest bloom of the soul,
      While thy heart yet was pangless, and true, and unstain'd;
    Ere the world one vain wish by its witcheries stole,
      What it could not confer, thou for ever hast gain'd

    Like a dew-drop, kiss'd off by the sun's morning beam,
      A brief, but a beauteous existence was given;
    Thy soul seem'd to come down to earth, in a dream,
      And only to wake, when ascended to heaven!




CHURCH FELLOWSHIP.

_By James Montgomery._


    People of the living God!
      I have sought the world around,
    Paths of sin and Sorrow trod,
      Peace and comfort no where found;
    Now to you my spirit turns,
      Turns,--a fugitive unblest;
    Brethren! where your altar burns,
      O receive me to your rest.

    Lonely I no longer roam
      Like the cloud, the wind, the wave,
    Where you dwell shall be my home,
      Where you die shall be my grave,
    Mine the God whom you adore,
      Your Redeemer shall be mine;
    Earth can fill my soul no more,
      Every idol I resign.

    Tell me not of gain and loss,
      Ease, enjoyment, pomp, and power,
    Welcome poverty, and cross,
      Shame, reproach, affliction's hour!
    --"Follow me!"--I know thy voice,
      Jesus, Lord! thy steps I see;
    Now I take thy yoke by choice,
      Light thy burthen now to me.




STATE OF THE THERMOMETER.


            9 o'cl.   12 o'cl.   3 o'cl.
  Nov.  8,       47         48        51
        9,       49         55        52
       10,       37         41        40
       11,       33         34        34
       12,       Snow this day.
       13,       30         36        34
       14,       30         38        35
       15,       32         39        39
       16,       33         44        44
       17,       37         49        50
       18,       40         50        52
       20,       44         49        46
       21,       46         50        50
       22,       39         52        50
       23,       40         49        33
       24,       45         57        57
       25,       46         48        51
       27,       33         40        36
       28,       31         34        34
       29,       32         41        39
       30,       29         30        29
  Dec.  1,       23         34        33
        2,       33         43        41
        4,       36         39        41
        5,       38         41        41
        6,       39         43        43
        7,       35         42        45
        8,       41         45        44
        9,       38         40        41
       11,       29         34        33
       12,       25         27        26
       13,       27         30        32
       14,       33         38        38
       15,       36         38        42
       16,       28         30        28
       18,       31         32        33
       19,       35         37        33




RAIN GAUGE AT PHILADELPHIA.


                                   In. hun.
  Novem. 8,      Rain,                0.17
  11 to 12,      Rain and some Snow   2.35
        21,      Rain,                0.30
    Dec. 4,      do.                  0.98
         9,      do.                  0.34
        15,      do.                  0.18
        21,      do.                  0.11




_TO OUR SUBSCRIBERS._


The present number of the RURAL MAGAZINE will complete a volume;
and is intended also to terminate our editorial labours in the
present form. It may perhaps be proper, briefly to advert to the
circumstances which have led to this determination.

We embarked in the enterprise, without making promises not designed
to be performed, or indulging extravagant expectations, as to
patronage and emolument. We honestly believed that important
services might be rendered to the agricultural interests, which we
consider the great and growing interests of our country, by the
extensive circulation of such a publication. We had no doubt, that
enlightened and public spirited farmers, would have gladly availed
themselves of our pages, for the purpose of disseminating useful
information, connected with the prosperity and advancement of the
FIRST OF ARTS. In this reasonable expectation, we are compelled to
acknowledge, that we have been entirely disappointed.

Our farmers of Pennsylvania, who as practical men, if they do not
surpass, are at least inferior to none in the United States, have
discovered a most extraordinary reluctance in committing to writing
the result of their experience. Hence a principal difficulty in
supporting with a suitable degree of animation, an agricultural
paper in this place.

We nevertheless look forward to the period, and we hope it is not
far distant, when many of the discouragements which now present
themselves will have disappeared; when such a work, or one perhaps
_exclusively_ devoted to AGRICULTURE and RURAL AFFAIRS, will be
called for, by those most immediately interested. When this time
shall arrive, we may possibly again undertake a work of this
kind; but at present, lest we should be considered obtrusive, our
editorial duties are relinquished.

To this we are reluctantly impelled, as well by pecuniary
considerations, (for our subscription list has not latterly
increased as was expected,) as for the reason already stated.

In reviewing the course which has been pursued, we are unconscious
of having omitted any exertion, or failed in the performance of any
stipulation, which the terms of our engagements seemed to us to
impose. The twelve numbers published, will form a handsome volume;
and we are induced to believe, contain many articles well worthy of
preservation. For such of our friends, who may wish to have these
bound, and will place them in our hands for that purpose, we will
employ a binder, and see that the work is executed neatly, and on
the most moderate terms.

To those of our patrons who have been punctual in their remittances,
we return our thanks. Those who appear to have been unmindful of
this duty, will we trust remember, as stimulating circumstances, the
smallness and justice of our claims.--With these observations, we
respectfully take leave of our readers, and feel desirous of parting
with them, with sentiments of mutual good will.

As we cannot reciprocate the favour to those editors who have sent
us their papers in exchange for ours, we of course will not expect
to receive them in future.

  RICHARDS & CALEB JOHNSON.

  _Philadelphia_, 12 _mo._ 1820.




PHILADELPHIA,

PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY

RICHARDS & CALEB JOHNSON,

_No. 31, Market Street_,

At $3.00 per annum.

GRIGGS & DICKINSON, _Printers_--_Whitehall_.







*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RURAL MAGAZINE, AND LITERARY EVENING FIRE-SIDE, VOL. 1 NO. 12 (1820) ***


    

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