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Horizontal Appearance of the Sun and Moon.

suited to the place of their abode. Of this, the hair of the polar regions is a remarkable example, which becomes first grey, and then white, as the winter advances; as also does the dog from the Mackenzie river. The chameleon, which is an animal of slow motion, assumes the colour of the surface on which it rests. This is effected by the texture of the skin resembling shagreen, the slight asperities of which, by their smooth surfaces, reflect the rays of light proceeding from the substance on which it is placed. It seems probable that the whole of the lizard tribe possess this faculty in a degree. I have seen the water-newt, when disturbed, draw its legs under it, straighten its body, depress its head, and, assuming the colour of the ground, appear like a dry stick. The crocodile when watching for its prey, crouched in the dank mud of the river's bank, appears, from his dark and motionless form, like an inanimate log.

The inquiry might doubtless be pursued much further, and we should find that in this respect nature has adapted the colour of every animal to its locality and habits. It may, however, be observed generally, that such individuals as have the quickest motion, as birds and winged insects, are adorned with every variety of colour, their facility of escape precluding danger.

The Bones of birds.-The bones of birds are not only thinner, and consequently lighter, than those of quadrupeds, but the internal hollow is constituted of a cellular substance; which, independent of marrow, is divided into air-cells, which renders the body specifically lighter, while probably the animal heat, rarefying this air, adds to their buoyancy.

Digestion in dogs.-The powers of digestion in dogs, in consequence of their feeding much on bones, proves the gastric juice must be of a very solvent, and probably even corrosive, at least of very highly fermentative, quality. The action of this on the coats of the stomach, occasions the animal to suffer frequent hunger, as also to require water in considerable quantity to weaken its strength. It appears probable that this fact may serve in some degree as a clue to the theory of canine madness, a subject which must be ever deeply interesting to the public.

The gastric juice, like all other secretions of the animal body, is naturally exalted by heat, and its acrimony considerably increased. Now it has been long established as a fact, that dogs, even in the hottest weather, never perspire except in the tongue; and a recent writer in the Lancet having taken much pains to investigate the fact, has

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founded upon it a mode of treatment for hydrophobia, of which phlebotomy and salivation form the basis. This has been successful in some instances, and it is to be fervently hoped it will be more closely investigated.

What I would further observe is, that though this saliva, which flows from the tongue, may be beneficial to the animal in a healthy state, yet when there is a degree of fever in very hot weather, it may probably be in an acrid state, and thus be painful to the animal, occasioning rabies. This acrid saliva, conveyed into the human system by a bite, would inoculate it with the same disease. I am not certain whether graminivorous animals are naturally subject to rabies, but I should think not, as their gastric juice, being fitted for the solution of vegetable matter, cannot be necessarily of so solvent a quality as that of dogs, &c and therefore not so liable to become acrid. E. G. B

ON THE HORIZONTAL APPEARANCE OF THE
SUN AND MOON.

THE cause of the sun and moon appearing
larger when near the horizon than when
they are considerably elevated above it,
has engaged the attention of several emi-
nent men, who have endeavoured to inves-
tigate it.

Alhazen, a writer on optics, supposed that it was caused by the sight apprehending the heavens as a flat surface; whence would arise the imagination of a different distance under the same angle; and therefore the luminaries would appear larger when near the horizon, because we then imagine them to be at the greatest distance.

Other writers, (see the Imperial Encyclopædia, art. Astronomy, part i. sect. 12.) attempt to explain the cause of our imagining a different distance under the same angle, from the great number of objects on the surface of the earth, interposed between the eye and the horizon, which make us think those parts of the sky near the horizon to be the most remote, and hence the sun and moon will then appear larger. These opinions, as the writer of the abovenamed work remarks, are hardly tenable, since the sun and moon often change their magnitude very suddenly when near the horizon.

I think the following observations will, at least, prove the cause of this phenomena to be of a refractive nature. Take a bit of paper, and prick a hole through it with a pin, and when the sun appears very large,

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Eccentricity no Proof of Genius.-Huggate Dykes.

on holding the small hole to your eye, and
observing the sun through it, it will appear
no larger than it does when it is in the
meridian; if you do the same when it is
in the meridian, its magnitude will then
appear unaltered. I have made the expe-
riment many times, both with the sun and
moon, when they appeared very large, and
they were immediately reduced to their
natural size, on the application of the paper.
Probably most persons will agree with
me in thinking, that refraction is the cause
of this alteration; though it may be very
difficult to find out in what way it is done.
We know that the air is much denser in
the direction of the horizon than higher up,
and is frequently loaded with aqueous par-
ticles, which, about the horizon, would ren-
der it more refractive than at greater ele-
vations and because these particles lie
near the surface of the earth, the eye sees
through a greater quantity of the impreg-
nated air in the direction of the horizon,
than it does at greater altitudes. Hence
these luminaries appear magnified, some-
what after the manner of their being seen
through a convex lens; and they have the
appearance as if seen through a medium of
the kind before-mentioned, and of a less
transparent nature than pure air; because
they appear dimmer there than at other
places.
THOMAS COOKE.

Draycott, near Derby.

ECCENTRICITY NO PROOF OF GENIUS.

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THOUGH many of the most eminent individuals whose genius has been abundantly exhibited in their productions, whether in the fields of literature or science, have exhibited considerable eccentricity, yet this pensity is not, as many imagine, any proof of the possession of genius. The existence of pre-eminent talents in any branch of study, and the rapid acquisition of principles, together with the new and interesting discoveries that result from reflection, on an induction from them, is so superior to the common range of human intellect, as to lead us to expect something extraordinary, either in the manners or appearance of the individual; and these peculiarities, which often really exist, are considered as eccentricity, and are by many ascribed, though falsely, to the presence of genius, of which they are concluded to be a demonstrative proof.

Genius may be defined to be a superior mental aptitude to comprehend the principles of any art or science with facility and correctness, and to apply then, by the immediate operation of mental

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association, to existing circumstances. Hence will result new discoveries and ingenious deductions. Thus genius is not only a quality, but a habit of the mind, absorbing all its active faculties in the favourite subjects, and raising the mental powers above the consideration of common and insignificant occurrences, so that the individual becomes intensely studious and thoughtful, and often totally abstracted from the consciousness of surrounding objects.

This abstraction, which sometimes occasions ludicrous contortions, though often mistaken for eccentricity, is merely a natural effect of this habit of the mind, and totally beyond the control of the individual; and is one, however singular such conduct may appear to the thoughtless and inconsiderate, which the sensible will ascribe to its real cause.

Eccentricity, either of manner or appearance, is the result generally of bodily habit; and though thus intimately associated with the manners of the man, yet it is not the effect of thought or reflection, and is under the command of the reason, if properly exerted for its suppression. It is sometimes assumed either in order to excite attention, or to cover the real character from impertinent investigation, and the same individual is a totally different person in a mixed company and in the retirement of his closet. Eccentricity often consists rather in words than action, and is marked by sallies either of wit or whim. In this case it is employed to relieve the mind from the tedium of study, and relax it from that tension which results from the abstruse operations of profound speculation.

There is scarcely an individual of superior genius, but, either from habit or design, has contracted some degree of eccentricity, either in speech, manners, or appearance; yet as these peculiarities are observed in thousands who have never exhibited any evidences of genius, we cannot conclude that they furnish any proof of that, without which it can exist; nor, on the contrary, can we determine, that bodily habits and peculiarities, under the control of the will, are a priori proofs that real genius exists in the individual. E. G. B.

HUGGATE DYKES, NEAR POCKLINGTON,
YORKSHIRE.

THE word dyke is of Scottish origin, and
signifies "a wall, a ditch," &c. Here it is
used in the latter sense. It has the same
application that the Latin word vallum has,
and is regulated by the context.

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Huggate Dykes-Poetry.

The dykes at Huggate, to which Hinderwell, in his History of Scarborough, alludes, were brought into notice by the late Lord Burlington, some years ago. His lordship got a plan of them engraven, and some copies of them thrown off, but one of them I have not been able to procure. Neither do I know his lordship's opinion of their design or use. It appears from the connexion in which Hinderwell refers to them, that he thought they were a species of Roman Road. But this opinion will be shewn to be erroneous.

These dykes lie nearly south-west and north-east. At the east end they are seven in number; but two merging into one about the middle, there are but six at the west end. They are 520 yards in length, 88 yards at their greatest width, and 68 yards at the least. In some places they are 7 or 8 feet deep, but must originally have been above 12 feet, for the plough and the spade have, in many places, considerably dimin- | ished their height.

They are situated upon a neck of land, which separates two deep dales. At the east end they are approached by a single road from the direction of Driffield, which probably connected with the Roman road from Sinus Salutaris, i. e. Bridlington Bay, to York. At the west end three roads branch out from them: one near the summit, another about the middle way, and a third along the bottom of a deep dale. Of the use of these three roads, conjecture is in favour of their having been for a retreating army, to baffle the intentions of a pursuing enemy. This will sanction the opinion of these dykes having been military encampments.

General Roy describes a species of earthen camp, used by the Romans for temporary purposes. And Dr. Henry, in his History of Great Britain, mentions a similar encampment on the south side of the Wall of Agricola, which was used by the Anglo-Romans to defend themselves from the excursions of the Scots and Picts, after the Roman armies were withdrawn from the island. As the Anglo-Romans retreated southward to the higher grounds, the probability is, that the dykes at Huggate were an encampment which they formed upon a Roman trackway, which had been originally made by the ancient Britons, and which they would use in their march southward. They would also use the tumuli for watch stations by their out-posts; and when the Scots and Picts approached, even at a distance, those who were encamped would have sufficient time to make their exeunt by the three roads at the west end, and

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elude their pursuers. Or they might divide, and escape a general attack upon their whole body.

The number of military tumuli' to the south of the dykes, is in favour of their having been military encampments; for the tumuli are general indications of some stations or encampments being at no great distance. The dykes are also much calculated to impede the march of an enemy, either from the north or south, as a small army in these entrenchments could easily oppose a very superior force, and drive it into some of the neighbouring deep dales, where it would be at the mercy of its assailants. Allowing that the celebrated Delgovitia, which was a Roman station, was either at Londsborough or its neighbourhood, and that the Anglo-Romans knew of it, yet the higher wolds would be much preferable for their purpose. For the neighbourhood of Londsborough being much lower, it is unfit for a good exploratory station.

Viewing then these dykes as the remains of a military encampment, they differ from the Danish camp, which was circular; from the Anglo-Saxon, which was semicircular; and from the Roman, which was oblong, and divided into compartments: the inductive conclusions are in favour of their having been "an Anglo-Roman encampment." Huggate, Jan. 23, 1830

POETRY.

WINTER.

Now surly Winter rules the infant year, Far in the north 1 heard him loudly knock Upon the entrance of a cavern drear, Until his trusty messengers awoke.

T. R.

Then to the various storms he roughly spoke,
Bidding them spread dire desolation wide;
Like mighty giants, when their chains are broke,
They leave, and o'er the earth triumphant ride.

Where are the flowers that bloomed in beauty's pride?

Where are the birds that erst did sweetly sing?
The hoar-frost came, those sickened and they died,
These on the cold spray sit with shivering wing.
No more their notes are heard, 'till virgin spring
Then shall the woods again with music ring,
Bids vegetation live on fields and trees;
And fragrance come with every passing breeze.
No longer now are heard the humming bees,
In their dark wary cells they still remain;

Yet on their Summer's store they live at ease,
For they foresaw dread Winter's barren reign.
Why could not thoughtless men such hints obtain,
And of their labour's produce take more care?
Then might they keep their huts in snow or rain,
Nor brave such storms to gain their wanted fare.
Cold blinding snow-flakes hurry through the air,
The crystal spears hang from the cottage eaves,
The stately swan, proud of her plumage fair,
No longer on the lake her bosom laves,-
Each water-fowl the wondrous change perceives;
In search of warmer springs away some fly,
The hungry heron stalks about and grieves,
For safe beneath the ice the fishes lie.

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Cloud follows cloud athwart the gloomy sky,—
The distant sun is rarely to be seen,-
Loud howl the angry winds as they pass by,
While starving rustics round the hearth convene.
Within yon lordly hall, how changed the scene;
Momus with many a giddy friend is there,
Behold the fair ones move in dresses sheen,
Bedecked with many a gem both rich and rare.
Nor cold nor hunger falls unto their share,—
Fortune propitious smiles throughout the year;
Would they but seek the lowly cottage, where
Want's thousand ills in various forms appear,
What they can spare, might many a sad heart
cheer,

And lighten misery's burden to the poor;
Might Winter rob of half his terrors drear,
And heaven's reward for charity procure.

SPRING.

M. A. C.

CHEERFUL Spring, I gladly greet thee,
Love and joy are in thy train;
From my cot I come to meet thee,
In the wood, or on the plain.
That with music wild resounding,
'Mong the tender-foliaged trees;
This with various flowers abounding,
Richly scents the passing breeze.
High in air the lark is soaring,
Him I hear, but cannot see;
Say, sweet Spring, is he imploring
The most gentle mate from thee?
Lovely minstrel! while thou'rt singing
Where the clouds appear to rest,
Here below the grass is springing,
Which may hide thy lowly nest.
Now the mid-day sun is glancing,
Morning's mists have pass'd away,
Countless insects quick are dancing
In the warm and genial ray.
See the lambkins lightly bounding
O'er the mead with playful feet;
List the bee his bugle sounding,
Flitting o'er the blossoms sweet.
Stately steps the farmer, throwing
On the earth his golden grain,
Soon he hopes to see it growing,
Thick and strong upon the plain.
What were life, if hope were missing?
Few its pleasures, short its joys,
For that great celestial blessing
Always cheers, but never cloys.
Dark as starless nights in Winter,
Dark as chaos e'er could be,

Were our minds, did hope not enter
In, and light futurity.

Watch the angler, swiftly going
To the gently-ruffled brook;
Mark how skilfully he's throwing
In the well-disguised hook.
Soon the finny tribe perceive it,
Sudden springs the speckled trout,
It is caught, (would you believe it?)
Pleas'd he drags the sufferer out.
Boast not man thy sense of feeling,
Tell not of thy heart humane,
That base deed this truth revealing-
Thou canst willingly give pain.
Man, thou head of the creation,
Mild to all should be thy sway,
Spring beholding thy vocation,
Blushing, vanishes away.

M. A. C.

"THIS IS NOT THY REST."

Os remember" this is not thy rest,"
Though lovely and bright it may seem;
O hope not while here to be blest,

It is but a fanciful dream,

Though the morning of life may be balmy and clear, Yet the shadows of evening too soon will appear.

Oh remember "this is not thy rest,"
As thoughtless thou hastest along;
Though the world in bright colours be drest,
"Tis all as the syren's sweet song,

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Whose soul-thrilling harmony tempts thee to roam
Far, far from thy country, thy kindred, thy home.
Oh remember "this is not thy rest,"
When sorrows and troubles appear;
If affliction should enter thy breast,
And all appear hopeless and drear;

Yet, remember this world and its trials will cease,
And thou shalt repose thee for ever in peace.

Then turn thee from earth unto heaven,
Where joys will be lasting and pure,
There nought but true bliss will be given,
And that which shall ever endure;

There we shall as stars in the firmament shine,
All glory, and rapture, eternal, divine. R. M. D.

STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF B. W. B.

"Sigh not, ye winds, as passing o'er
The chambers of the dead ye fly;
Weep not, ye dews, for these no more
Shall ever weep, shall ever sigh.'

SWEET infant, like a vision His days have pass'd away; How bright was the transition, When from his tender clay, The spirit softly driven,

As waking from a dream,

Mrs. Hunter.

On seraph's pinions wing'd to heaven,
Weep not for him.

Too delicate a flower,

For earth's dull atmosphere;

The zephyrs in the bower,

For him were too severe.

Now mov'd to paradise,

For ever on him beam

Suns which ne'er set, and cloudless skies,
Weep not for him.

No more a child of sorrow,
Entail'd on human life;
For him brings not to-morrow
Affliction, guilt, and strife;
His little griefs are past,

His eye, tears cannot dim,
His Eden shall for ever last,
Weep not for him.

I gladly would have press'd him,
To this too feeling heart;
And rapturously caress'd him
But better thus to part;

The cup of life below

"But sparkles near the brim,"
He ne'er shall taste its dregs of wo,
Weep not for him.
Grimsby.

ANN WEBSTER.

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FAIR as the rose-bud blushing in the bower,
So beautiful his infant charms were seen;
While kindred branches screen'd the tender flower
From blanching winds ;-and fortune's fickle queen
Smil'd on his cradle,-childhood's bright serene
Unclouded pass'd,-youth never promis'd more.
Too eagerly he sought the sacred prize
Of knowledge, hidden in the page of lore.
Life's fairest visions pass'd before his eyes;
But, veil'd in gloom, an herald from the skies
Shook his dark wings around him, fatal hour!
Death's mildew dropp'd, corroded the heart's core,
The victim fell, demanded by that Power,
Who gave, who took,-but will again restore.
ANN WEBSTER.

Grimsby.

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Review.- The Ecclesiastical Polity of Dr. Hooker.

--

REVIEW.-The Ecclesiastical Polity of Richard Hooker, with his Life, by Izaak Walton; and Strype's Interpolations, &c. &c. By Benjamin Hanbury. In vols. 8vo. pp. 534, 568, 535. Holdsworth and Ball, London. 1830.

It is somewhat remarkable, that nearly all the leading sects into which the Christian world is divided have their respective champions, to whom they look up in times of danger, and under whose ægis they hope to find protection. The Calvinists have their Edwards, the Quakers their Barclay, the Wesleyan Methodists their Fletcher, the Papists their Bellarmine, and the Episcopalians their Hooker. All of these are master spirits, and, in their respective spheres of action, are highly deserving the fame they have acquired.

Hooker was not more remarkable for his piety and learning, than unfortunate in his matrimonial connexion and domestic concerns. At an early age he was entrapped into an unhappy marriage with a woman who brought him neither beauty nor portion; and what was still worse, she was silly and clownish in her manners, and an exact counterpart of Xantippe in her temper. By this disastrous step, he lost his fellowship at college, and was obliged to quit the university before he had obtained any preferment. In 1584 he was, however, presented with the rectory of Drayton Beauchamp, in Buckinghamshire, where he spent several years in matrimonial misery. On one occasion, while in this place, he was visited by his friend and pupil Mr. Sandys, in company with a nephew of Archbishop Cranmer. On reaching his habitation, they learnt that he was in the field; and here they found him tending a small flock of sheep during the absence of the servant, who had been called away on some domestic business. Released from this task, he conducted them to his house, where they had the mortification of witnessing the churlishness of his wife, who took every opportunity of putting his patience on the rack, and of provoking him by her capricious and vexatious behaviour. Sympathizing with their valuable friend, they took occasion, prior to their departure, to express their surprise, that he could bear, with so much fortitude, the continued insults to which he was exposed. To this Mr. Hooker replied-" My dear George, if saints have usually a double share of misery in this life, I, who am no saint, ought not to repine at what my wise Creator hath appointed for me, but labour

(as indeed I do) to submit my possess my soul in peace.'

and

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will to his,

Mr. Sandys, on reaching his home, represented the situation of Mr. Hooker to his father, in such a light, that, through the interest of this gentleman, he was made master of the Temple in London. But finding the metropolis did not agree with his more retired and moral habits, he was anxious of making an exchange with some one for a more tranquil scene. This was to him the more desirable, as he had made some advances in his great work on Ecclesiastical Polity, to the completion of which he thought the bustle of the city unfriendly. This being communicated to Bishop Whitgift, he was presented, in 1591, by that prelate, to the rectory of Boscomb, in Wiltshire, and to other valuable preferments in the cathedral of Salisbury. In the year 1594, he was presented by the Queen to the rectory of Bishop's Bourne, in Kent, where he finished his immortal work; but the sixth, seventh, and eighth books, he did not live to publish. His death took place in November 1600, in the forty-ninth year of his age.

It has generally been admitted, that Hooker's "Ecclesiastical Polity" is the best defence of church establishments that was ever published. Both at home and abroad, fame every where followed its appearance; but the author did not live to enjoy the extent of his reputation. A copy of this work falling into the hands of Clement VIII. induced the pontiff to. observe, that "there were in it, such seeds of eternity, as will continue till the last fire shall devour all learning."

When James I. came out of Scotland, on his accession to the throne of England, he inquired of Archbishop Whitgift for his friend Hooker; and being answered, that "he died before the Queen, who received the information with much regret," his majesty replied as follows: "And I receive it with no less, as I shall want the desired happiness of seeing and discoursing with that man, from whose books of Church Polity I have received such satisfaction. Indeed, my Lord, I have received more satisfaction in reading a leaf or paragraph in Mr. Hooker, though it were but about the fashion of churches or church music, or the like, but especially of the sacraments, than I have had in the reading particular large treatises but of one of those subjects, by others, though very learned men; and though many others write well, yet in the next age they will be forgotten; but, doubtless, there is in every page of Mr. Hooker's book, the picture of a

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