He feels awhile benighted,

And lingers on in fear and doubt.

But soon the prospect clearing,

In cioudless starlight on he treads,
And finds no lamp so cheering

As that light which heaven sheds.

Nevertheless, there is a point in this which demands some explanation. It is implied in these lines that the source of nocturnal illumination is chiefly, if not exclusively, starlight. This has been in a great measure disproved in some memoirs published by Arago in the Annuaire du Bureau des Longitude-,' in which he shows that there must be some other source of nocturnal illumination than that of the stars. On nights, for example, which are thickly clouded there is sometimes a stronger light than on those in which the firmament is clear and From this and other circumstances Arago argues that there must be some power of illumination in the clouds or in the atmosphere independently of the light which proceeds from the stars. This is a point, however, the full development of which would require more space and time than we can spare for it on the present occasion.

serene.

In another of Moore's poems we find the following beautiful lines:

While gazing on the moon's light,
A moment from her smile I turn'd,
To look at orbs that, more bright,
In lone and distant glory burn'd,
But too far

This is not only beautiful poetry, but sound astronomy. The distances of the stars are many hundreds of millions of times greater than that of the moon, but their actual splendour is in many cases greater than that of the sun. Thus it has been shown by calculations made upon observations which appear to admit of no doubt, that the star Sirius, commonly called the Dog Star, is a sun 146 times more splendid than that which illuminates our system. Its distance, however, is so enormous that the actual light which it sheds upon our firmament is less than the five thousand millionth part of the sun's light.

Another star, which is the principal one in the constellation of the Centaur, has been ascertained to be a sun whose splendour

is 24 times greater than that of ours, but, owing to its enormous distance, the light which it sheds in our firmament is twentytwo thousand million times less than that of the sun.

Sir John Herschel compared the light shed by this star from our firmament, and found by exact photometric measurement that it was 27,408 times less than the light of the full moon. Shakspeare imputes to the cricket the sense of hearing—

I will tell it softly; young crickets shall not hear me.

This was long considered as a scientific blunder on the part of the poet, the most eminent naturalists having maintained that insects in general have no sense of hearing. Brunelli, an Italian naturalist, however, has demonstrated that the cricket at least has that sense. Several of these insects, which he shut up in a chamber, continued their usual crinking or chirping the whole day, except at moments when he alarmed them by suddenly knocking at the door. The noise always produced a temporary silence on their part. He contrived to imitate their sounds so well that the whole party responded in a chorus, but were instantly silenced on his knocking at the door.

He also made the following experiment:-He confined a male cricket on one side of his garden, while he put a female on the other side at liberty. The moment the belle heard the crink of her beau, she showed no coyness, but immediately made her way to him.

The female glowworm, which emits the phosphorescent light familiar to all who have dwelt in warm climates, remains comparatively stationary to await the approach of her mate, attracted to her by the light which she holds out to him-a circumstance of which Moore has availed himself with his usual felicity :

Beautiful as is the light

The glowworm hangs out to allure

Her mate to her green bower at night.

The well-known economy of the bee was never more beautifully described than by Shakspeare, who puts the following comparison into the mouth of the Archbishop of Canterbury :

True! Therefore doth Heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion;
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees;
Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts;
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds;

Which pillage they with merry march bring home

Q

To the tent-royal of their emperor :
Who, busied in his majesties, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold;
The civil citizens kneading up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-ey'd justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o'er to éxecutors pale
The lazy yawning drone.

Henry V. Act I. Scene 2.

PARTNERSHIP WITHOUT TIME.

(1) Smith and Jones commence trade with £15,000, of which Smith furnishes £5,000; they gain £560. What is Jones's share of the profit?

(2) Three persons traded in sugar, and freighted a ship with 1,600 hhds., of which A sent 280, B 620, and C the remainder; the ship sprung a leak; 140 hhds. were thrown overboard. How much did each lose?

(3) Four persons commence trade with £10,000, of which A puts B, C, D; they lose £4,500. What is the amount each partner's share is reduced to?

(4) In their next adventure the firm above-mentioned gained £5,000. What did the value of each partner's share then amount to?

THE AMATEUR SPORTSMEN.

com-pla'-cent-ly, in a self-satisfied way
in-ev-it-ab-ly, unavoidably
ad-mon'-ish-ed, reproved, warned
com'-mis-er-a-tion, pity
pro-pell'-ed, driven forward
sum'-ma-ri-ly, briefly, in the shortest way
in-sin-u-a'-tion, a hint, a suggestion
im-me-mor'-i-al, past the time of memory
ax'-i-om, a self-evident truth
stealth'-i-ly, secretly, by stealth

am'-a-teur, one who pursues an art from
choice and not as a profession

cov'-ey, a brood of birds
in-dem-ni-fi-ca'-tion, security against
loss; repayment for loss
con-tort'-ed, twisted
pre'-text, a pretence

de-tract', to take away, to defame
in-var-i-a-ble, unchangeable, constant
in-vig-o-ra-ted, strengthened

[From the Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club,' by Charles Dickens, our greatest living novelist. Works: Sketches by Boz,'' Pickwick Papers,' 'Old Curiosity Shop,' 'Barnaby Rudge,' 'Nicholas Nickleby,' 'Martin Chuzzlewit,' 'Dombey and Son,' 'David Copperfield,' 'Bleak House, Tale of Two Cities,' 'Great Expectations,' 'Our Mutual Friend,' &c. &c.]

THE birds, who, happily for their own peace of mind and personal comfort, were in blissful ignorance of the preparations which had been making to astonish them, on the 1st of September, hailed it, no doubt, as one of the pleasantest mornings they had seen that season. Many a young partridge who strutted complacently among the stubble, with all the finicking coxcombry of youth, and many an older one who watched his levity out of his little round eye, with the contemptuous air of a bird of wisdom and experience, alike unconscious of their

approaching doom, basked in the fresh morning air, with lively and blithesome feelings, and a few hours afterwards were laid low upon the earth. But we grow affecting let us proceed. In plain common-place matter-of-fact, then, it was a fine morning-so fine that you would scarcely have believed that the few months of an English summer had yet flown by. Hedges, fields, and trees, hill and moorland, presented to the eye their ever-varying shades of deep rich green; scarce a leaf had fallen, scarce a sprinkle of yellow mingled with the hues of summer, warned you that autumn had begun. The sky was cloudless; the sun shone out bright and warm; the songs of birds, and hums of myriads of summer insects, filled the air; and the cottage gardens, crowded with flowers of every rich and beautiful tint, sparkled, in the heavy dew, like beds of glittering jewels. Everything bore the stamp of summer, and none of its beautiful colours had yet faded from the die. Such was the morning, when an open carriage in which were three Pickwickians (Mr. Snodgrass having preferred to remain at home), Mr. Wardle, and Mr. Trundle, with Sam Weller on the box beside the driver, pulled up by a gate at the roadside, before which stood a tall, raw-boned gamekeeper, and a half-booted, leather-leggined boy; each bearing a bag of capacious dimensions, and accompanied by a brace of pointers.

'I say,' whispered Mr. Winkle to Wardle, as the man let down the steps,' they don't suppose we're going to kill game enough to fill those bags, do they?

Fill them!' exclaimed old Wardle. 'Bless you, yes; you shall fill one, and I the other; and when we've done with them, the pockets of our shooting-jackets will hold as much more.

Mr. Winkle dismounted without saying anything in reply to this observation; but he thought within himself, that if the party remained in the open air until he had filled one of the bags, they stood a considerable chance of catching colds in their heads. Hi, Juno, lass-hi, old girl; down, Dapp, down,' said Wardle, caressing the dogs. Sir Geoffrey still in Scotland, of course, Martin ? The tall gamekeeper replied in the affirmative, and looked with some surprise from Mr. Winkle, who was holding his gun as if he wished his coat-pocket to save him the trouble of pulling the trigger, to Mr. Tupman, who was holding his as if he were afraid of it-as there is no earthly reason to doubt he really was.

'My friends are not much in the way of this sort of thing yet, Martin,' said Wardle, noticing the look. 'Live and learn, you know. They'll be good shots one of these days. I beg my friend Winkle's pardon, though; he has had some practice.' Mr. Winkle smiled feebly over his blue neckerchief, in ac

knowledgment of the compliment, and got himself so mysteriously entangled with his gun, in his modest confusion, that if the piece had been loaded, he must inevitably have shot himself dead upon the spot.

'You mustn't handle your piece in that ere way, when you come to have the charge in it, sir,' said the tall gamekeeper gruffly, or you will make cold meat of some on us.

Mr. Winkle, thus admonished, abruptly altered its position, and in so doing contrived to bring the barrel into pretty smart contact with Mr. Weller's head.

'Hallo!' said Sam, picking up his hat, which had been knocked off, and rubbing his temple. Hallo, sir! if you comes it this vay, you'll fill one o' them bags, and something to spare, at one fire.'

Here the leather-leggined boy laughed very heartily, and then tried to look as if it was somebody else, whereat Mr. Winkle frowned majestically.

'Where did you tell the boy to meet us with the snack, Martin?' inquired Wardle.

'Side of One Tree Hill, at twelve o'clock, sir.'

'That's not Sir Geoffrey's land, is it ??

'No, sir; but it's close by it. It's Captain Boldwig's land; but there'll be nobody to interrupt us, and there's a fine bit of turf there.'

'Very well,' said old Wardle. 'Now the sooner we're off the better. Will you join us at twelve, then, Pickwick ? '

Mr. Pickwick was particularly desirous to view the sport, the more especially as he was rather anxious in respect of Mr. Winkle's life and limbs. On so inviting a morning, too, it was very tantalising to turn back, and leave his friends to enjoy themselves. It was, therefore, with a very rueful air that he replied, 'Why, I suppose I must.'

Ain't the gentleman a shot, sir?' inquired the long gamekeeper.

'No,' replied Wardle; and he's lame besides.'

'I should very much like to go,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'very much.'

There was a short pause of commiseration.

'There's a barrow t'other side the hedge,' said the boy. 'If the gentleman's servant would wheel along the paths, he could keep nigh us, and we could lift it over the stiles and that.'

The wery thing,' said Mr. Weller, who was a party interested, inasmuch as he ardently longed to see the sport. The wery thing. Well said, Smallcheck; I'll have it out in a

minute.'

But here a difficulty arose. The long gamekeeper resolutely protested against the introduction into a shooting party, of a