in this extremity of ill, throw themselves upon the mercy of the waves, hoping to be cast upon some higher ground, as, even if they failed to reach it, a sudden would be better than a lingering death-in this dire extremity, one of these despairing creatures, to hold himself more firmly to the rock, grasped a weed, which, even wet as it was, he well knew, as the lightning's sudden flash afforded a momentary glare, was not a fucus, but a root of Samphire; and he recollected that this plant never grows under water. This then became more than an olive branch of peace, a messenger of mercy; by it they knew that He who alone can calm the raging of the seas, at whose voice alone the winds and the waves are still, had placed his landmark, had planted his standard here, and by this sign they were assured that He had said to the wild waste of waters, "Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further." Trusting, then, to the promise of this Angel of the Earth, they remained stationary during the remainder of that dreadful, but then comparatively happy night; and in the morning they were seen from the cliffs above, and conveyed in safety to the shore.-BURNETT's Introductory Lecture.

Samphire, or St. Peter's Wort, very probably derives its English name, as etymologists contend, from the French name, "Herbe de St. Pierre," and hence, if such be the case, it would be more correctly written, according to Smith, Sampire, or, as degenerated from St. Pierre, san-pire.

The botanical name Crithmum has been given to this plant from the resemblance its seeds bear to grains of barley, the crithe of the Greeks,

ON THE COLOR OF THE SEA.

THOSE who have been accustomed to a life confined in the interior of countries, where only rivulets and shallow rivers flow, where clear fountains rise, or muddy currents roll along, view with admiration the first appearance of the sea, as from the shore they regard the pure and sparkling green complexion of its waters, a color which, in

deed, seems peculiar to itself. The wonder is increased when a portion of its water, passed into a vessel, is observed to retain no trace of that very peculiar color, and to be perfectly clear. Its transparency is such, that, in places undefiled by filth or dirt, the sand may be distinguished at the bottom of its bed at a considerable depth, and stones and shells of the smallest size, which lie there, appear then bright and resplendent. Marine plants, especially the corallines, beam in it with the greatest splendor; and all productions of this nature are elegantly shaded whilst they are sunk beneath the surface of the water; but as soon as they are taken out this beauty vanishes. Certain eystoceisa, called by us iridea, as well as many alcyonia, which in this fostering element shine in the colors of the rainbow, or in the finest tints of purple and orange, seem there tinged with black, yellow, or simply of a brown or dark violet hue, when cast upon the bank of the shore, lose their attractions by exposure to atmospheric air. As the light penetrates the abyss of waters, and during a cloudless day, as we enjoy an excursion on its surface, the waves appear colored in such a manner around us, that we are sometimes inclined to believe, as we admire the deepness of its green, that we are upon a liquid meadow, or upon a billiard-table carpet which could be translucent. In proportion as the vessel becomes distant from the shore, and we reach the high latitudes, where the depth increases more and more, the green tint changes into a blue tint, and in the open sea the water becomes, at fifty or sixty fathoms, of the finest azure color. The green shade generally announces danger, or an approach to low coasts; for along those which are intersected with peaks or mountains, and near which the sound descends to a great extent, the blue azure is observed to appear, and to become much more lively as the depth becomes more considerable. But this blue, which is ordinarily regarded as one of the characteristics of the ocean, and which is commonly attributed to the manner in which the rays of the sun become decomposed, as they penetrate into the waters, is not, however, exclusively peculiar to it; every large and deep bed of water has a cast of a similar

nature. Deep lakes, which are not salt, especially those among high mountains, are equally affected by the blue azure tint; and this beautiful shade is observed even in the bed of torrents, at the bottom of which, if the water fills a cavity in a rock, the serenity of the heavens produces, in a small degree, the most brilliant effect of coloration. -Translation from Bory de St. Vincent, by Professor Rennie.

THE most interesting object of a menagerie is probably its lion; and there are few persons who are not familiar with the general appearance of this most powerful animal. To behold, in perfect security, that creature which is the terror of all travellers in the regions where he abounds; which is said to be able to bear off a buffalo on his back, and crush the skull of a horse by a single stroke of his paw-is certainly gratifying to a reasonable curiosity. The appearance of dignified self

possession which the lion displays when at rest; his general indifference to slight provocations; his haughty growl when he is roused by the importunities of his keepers or the excitement of the multitude; his impatient roar when he is expecting his daily meal, and his frightful avidity when he is at length enabled to seize upon his allotted portion;-these are traits of his character in confinement which are familiar to almost every one.

The ordinary length of the lion, from the end of the muzzle to the insertion of the tail, is about six feet, and the height about three feet. The uniformity of his color is well known, being of a pale tawny above, and somewhat lighter beneath; and his enormous mane is a characteristic which no one can forget. The long tuft of rather black hair, which terminates his tail, may not have been so generally observed; but this is peculiar to his species. The pupils of his eyes are round. The lioness differs from the lion, in the want of a mane;

in the more slender proportions of her body; and in the comparative smallness of her head.

To understand the natural habits of the lion, we must not be satisfied to observe him in menageries, where, ordinarily, his disposition is soon subjected by that fear of man which constitutes a feature of his character. We may, indeed, observe the form of this magnificent beast; and may occasionally be delighted by his gentleness

and entire submission to the commands of his capricious masters. But we must compare our own impressions of his character with the accounts of intelligent travellers; we must examine the peculiar structure of his body, as developed by skilful and patient anatomists; and we may then return to view the lion of the showman with correct notions of his physical powers, and with unromantic estimates of his moral qualities. It has been too much the fashion with writers on natural history to have their antipathies and their partialities towards the ferocious quadrupeds; and thus, as the hyæna has been represented as combining every disgusting and offensive habit, so has the lion been painted as possessed of the most noble and magnanimous affections. "The King of the beasts" is a name applied to him, with which every one is familiar. In physical strength he is indeed unequalled. He is ordained by nature to live on animal food, and fitted for the destruction of animal life by the most tremendous machinery that could be organized for such a purpose, regulated by a cunning peculiar to his species. But when we investigate the modes in which he employs these powers, we may perhaps be inclined to leave the stories of his generosity to the poets and romance-writers, who (as well as the authors of more sober relations) have generally been too much inclined to invest physical force with those attributes of real courage and magnanimity which are not always found in association with it.

It has been often stated by travellers in Africa, and the statement has been repeated by Mr. Pringle, upon the authority of a chief of the Bechuanas, that the lion, after he has made his fatal spring upon the giraffe when he comes to drink at the pools, is carried away for miles, fixed on the neck of that fleet and powerful creature, before his victim sinks under him.

At the time when men first adopted the lion as the emblem of courage, it would seem that they regarded great size and strength as indicating it; but they were greatly mistaken in the character they have given to this indolent, skulking animal, and have overlooked a much