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formed the expansion.” The first is the creation of a substance, by an instantaneous act of power; the second is the disposing of

created substances into definite forms-in infinite wisdom determining the modes in which their relation, each with each, shall subsist, as parts of the whole universe.

In the first part of the third day, we have two formations noted; the first is the water, and the second the earth. These formations, we are told, are "under the heaven." This is the first note of distinction with which we are favoured, as to any one orb in the universe; but it is by no means the last ; for we gather from the subsequent history, most distinctly, that these waters, or seas, and this land, or earth, compose the very sphere which we inhabit; and that every sentence in the narration must, from this point, be understood as addressed to the inhabitants of this sphere alone. This sphere is our terrestrial; it is under the heaven or celestial; and, although the first eight verses speak of the universe, without reference to any one sphere, hereafter every orb therein is described in reference to us, or to our earth.

We now arrive at the moment when all the created atoms are applied to their several intended uses: those which were destined to constitute fluids into ethers, atmospheres, and waters, and those which were destined to constitute solids into stratified metallic and alluvial earths. The distinction, for the first time, occurs, of wet and dry, or seas and solid land; and the general term, fluids, applied to all the created atoms, ceases; because the general fluidity which pervaded the created atoms, while they continued individual, ceased at the moment when they were associated each with each, in the solid aggregates formed thereby.

The first substance noted in the operations of Elohim, on this third day, is water; the second is this substance congregated into seas; and the third is the opposite of fluid, viz. dry, or firm land; called, also, earth. These substances severally claim our notice, in the order in which they appear.

We proceed to the first substance, viz. water. Pure water consists of two gases, chemically united through the agency of heat, viz. hydrogen and oxygen. Hydrogen is the lightest of all ponderable matter, and oxygen floats freely in the fluid atmosphere, above as well as below; but water, although it is composed solely of these two gases, has great specific gravity; for a column of water thirty-three feet in height, is equal in weight to a column of atmospheric air, reaching from the earth's surface to the very verge of the atmosphere, aloft, which is

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Water is capable of assuming various forms. Fluid cold water is the most ponderous; it is somewhat lighter when crystallized in solid ice; yet lighter when crystallized in snow; and the lightest when converted into vapour. Ice floats in cold water, but vapour floats in the atmosphere, and rises therein to considerable heights. Yet, when the latent heat of vapour is suddenly evolved, it instantly becomes heavier than the atmosphere; and descends in crystals of hail, or snow, or in liquid drops of rain. The presence, therefore, or ab sence of caloric, active or latent, affects the fluidity as well as the specific gravity of water and I have no doubt, that light was the agent, in the hands of the great Creator, by which water was formed.

We come, secondly, to the congregation of water into seas. Water is water, wherever, or in whatever form, it exists; but all waters are not seas, nor even sea-waters. The sea is formed, not of pure water, but of water mingled with divers substances, which most materially affect its qualities, and change its operations upon vegetation and animation. Pure water is not only agreeable, but salubrious and nutritious, yea, even absolutely necessary to the existence and well-being of terrene vegetation and animation; but seawater is nauseous to the taste, and, being purgative, wasteful to the systems of terrene animals and vegetables; although the great Creator has formed amphibious animals, fishes, and marine plants, to whom its waters are genial; and these live and flourish therein.

Sodium and chlorine, which, combined, are common salt, muriate of magnesia, hydrogen, and sulphates of potash, soda, and lime, are the principal ingredients with which the congregated waters are charged throughout those vast repositories called seas but animal and vegetable substances, in every stage of corruption, are there also; and, during long-continued calms, cause the ocean to emit a stench offensive to the organs of animation. Hence storms, which disturb the ocean, serve to purge it also;

and the awful surges which these induce, tend to dissolve and precipitate those putrid substances, and restore to their natural purity the waters therein.

The action of light upon the surface of the ocean evaporates the water only, leaving all the ingredients mingled therewith to their original repose. Thus pure water always constitutes the rain in the atmosphere, whether the evaporation of its vapour arose from the surface of fresh or salt waters.

We have at length set our feet upon terra firma; and proceed to the consideration of the third substance noted in this day's formations; namely, dry or firm land; called also earth.

A solid may consist of united atoms; such as gold, silver, &c. &c. or of atoms chemically united into molecules, and afterwards united into masses, such as limestone, granite, &c. &c. and these masses may consist of one kind of molecules or of divers kinds, and in divers proportions, according to the will of the Being who formed them. Thus the simple substances of a sphere may be few in number, while varieties approaching infinite may result from repeated combinations, as to quantity as well as quality. Of this the great Creator has availed himself to the full, in the formations of this, and, no doubt, every sphere throughout the solar system.

A solid differs from a fluid essentially. A fluid consists of atoms or of molecules, each separate, distinct, and independent of the others; hence, as a mass, its parts have no cohesion, but are disparted by the simple insertion of a solid therein, without resorting to force; and whatever is inserted into the mass, sinks or swims therein, according to the difference of its specific gravity from that of the fluid into which it is inserted. Whereas a solid, whether it consists of atoms or of molecules, or of both, contains a something which unites the several parts into one continuous whole; or, it parts with heat or a liquid, which disparted its particles, and contracts itself into a solid; and thus, possessing cohesion, it cannot be divided without resorting to force and whatever is brought into contact with this mass, is either repelled by or rests upon it, without reference to the specific gravity either of the one or the other. A fluid substance, as well as a solid substance, must have whereon to rest; and the centre of gravity in every sphere in the system is this point; and every atom in each sphere and atmosphere tends by the laws of gravity towards this centre, and proceeds, through the open spaces, to the nearest point thereto, in those open spaces.

But solids are also different from fluids in their active operations.

While fluids act with an equal pressure upon every thing beneath and around them, they accommodate themselves to every inequality in the surface of the substance on which they rest or against which they lean, penetrate every orifice, insinuate themselves into every cavity to which there is the most minute opening, and yet always preserve a horizontal surface; taking the very form of the sphere on which, or in which, they are recumbent because this form lodges every part of the surface on the nearest point to the centre of gravity. But solids frequently rest upon certain points or parts, are rent into huge ravines or chasms, present vast caverns, or towering precipices, inequalities of surface in perfect contrast-now high in the air, a mountain-now deep below the horizon, the bottom of an unfathomable ocean--then a plane, inclined, instead of horizontal, crowned with an escarpment, elevated, abrupt and rugged, or mild and playfula landscape of delights. Cohesion holds all the parts together in the one substance, so that the whole must move, or all is at rest; and the absence of cohesion in the other, leaves every portion thereof to the certain and incessant operations of gravitation. Taking these principles in our hands, we may behold with delight, how the great Creator formed the sphere which we inhabit, and, from these premises, gather the mode in which He fashioned all the rest.

The building up or formation of a sphere was an epitome of the erection of the universe. All the agents, therefore, which were called into existence, and appointed, each to its distinct office, by the great Creator, on the day of the expansion, were placed in requisition on this occasion. For when all the created atoms were assorted and placed in due proportions, in such quantities and at such distances, in primary or secondary planets, as infinite wisdom deemed meet to form this universe, on the day of the expansion, as these atoms were yet individual, and consequently in a fluid state, they stood in need of this final operation, in order to constitute solids as well as fluids; and thus adapt the spheres to the great purposes for which they were created; namely, nurseries of vegetation and animation, and habitations fraught with rich varieties and mines of treasure for

man.

Waters float in the form of vapour in the atmosphere, and descend in rains upon the earth in very copious floods. Waters, therefore, as they fall upon the earth, lodge

in every cavity, overflow the humble plains; and, were they not carried off, would inundate the earth's surface: and were it not that the surface of the sea is lower than the earth, the congregated waters would overflow, to the drowning of the sphere. How appropriate then, is the language of inspiration, "Let the dry appear." For the word land, printed in italics, is an interpolation in the English version of the Bible, "Let the dry arise." In this command, and its consequent erection by the great Creator, we behold the earth arise in such a form that the complete drainage of the sphere follows, as a thing of course. A most important object this, and one without which it would be no earth for us, but one wide waste of waters; and to this important object, the drainage of the sphere, we must attend.

In forming the earth, it seems then to be absolutely necessary that it should be capable of self-drainage; not only in the first instance, but during all the ages of its existence, as a habitable globe, for it is too vast a labour for man to undertake with success. Is this the case? It is. The crust of the earth is formed of numerous inclined planes, and of their terminations or escarpments; and within these inclined planes are fissures or veins, through which waters filter, ooze, or run in copious streams. It is principally at and near the escarpment, or most elevated ends of these inclined planes, that the waters enter; for these dense masses, projected high into the atmosphere, there condense the vapours, and induce copious rains, and by these a head is formed, which presses upon the streams below, forcing them forwards through every chink; and frequently driving the water out in springs upon the earth's surface, for the use of vegetation and animation on thirsty lands of every grade below. Thus a drainage beneath the surface everywhere exists, in constant action.

The surface of the earth is, in like manner, formed of high and low, mountain and vale; and all its slopes admit gravitation to bear down the floods of elevated districts to the seas below. When we follow the meanderings of a mountain torrent, and view it winding from vale to vale in force, here the rock cleft to admit its passage, there a deep ravine reserved to afford its roaring cataracts course; anon a headlong torrent thundering down a steep, and then a stream, by headlands pushed aside; now flowing east, now south, now west; beset on every side by precipice, or mount, or thwarted by huge rocks, an

island in its course, at length escaping to the ample vale, a broad and placid stream, verdure and joy distributing, and contemplate the thousand acres, at once drained. and watered by its course, we take a lesson from His works, where all is wisdomwhere nothing is in vain. If much remains to man, of the minute, even here, and these drainages were all his toils, well would they consist with man's primeval exercise in Eden, "To dress it, and to keep it." W. COLDWELL. King Square, Oct. 31, 1831. (To be continued.)

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NEW YEAR'S DAY has at length arrived! yes, notwithstanding the tardy flow of minutes, hours, weeks, and months, of which the old year was made up, it has come! and with it a thousand, thousand high-day emotions. Fondly cherished hopes, which, during the lagging periods of the closing months of the past year, have possessed our bosoms, may not, indeed, have been realized, still hope on many subjects exists, and certainty on one point, at least, is enjoyed. The present year may bring us into the enjoyment of those desired things which imagination has made indispensable; or, if such should never be possessed, the point of certainty, to which we have arrived at is, that the past is gone for ever! The cares and disappointments of the departed months are buried with the periods which have elapsed; and, although others of a similar character may arise, those, at least, which have disappeared, we are certain, never, never will.

During the past year, fire and sword have desolated and unpeopled some of the fairest portions of our world. The widow's wail, the orphan's cries, and the groans of the wounded and dying, have blended in inharmonious accordance. The pestilence has stalked forth at noonday, slaughtering its thousands, irrespective of rank, or age, or sex, or station; nor has its fearful ravages ceased, even amid the dark and melancholy hours of midnight

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Gaunt famine has mingled in the dreadful affray, or added horrors to the horrid scene. The gasping yells of hungry thousands have been borne upon the wings of the winds to our ears. The wails of mothers, at whose milkless breasts dead infants nestled, have entered our hearts, while myriads,

"Blasted by the pest of famine's touch,

Did stagger out, and choke themselves with cries
For death."

Even the solid earth, as if indignant at the crimes perpetrated by its inhabitants, has heaved, with convulsive throbs, heaping together, in one promiscuous ruin, temples, palaces, and cottages; or, gaping wide, has received into its bowels the bodies of shrieking mutilated thousands. Fierce careering winds have joined in the wild uproar; and what other visitations of anger had spared, has been dashed to destruction by their resistless fury.

All this I have heard of, but have neither seen nor felt! A kind providence has thrown its protecting arms around me and mine, and, hence, mischief could not get at, nor destruction overwhelm me. Flowers have strewed my path, not unmixed, it is true, with thorns, and the sunshine of prosperity has canopied my head, obscured only occasionally by a passing cloud. I never, even when a

"Whining schoolboy, with satchel,

And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school,"

as the bard of Avon has it, was famous in accounting philosophically for my thoughts: indeed, they were seldom of much import ance, or of long continuance; and now, even although age has thrown its silvery caul over my head, and the bending form of years, which once I reverenced, has become my own; still, I am but little improved in this particular. Thoughts, like dreams,-half our thoughts may, perhaps, with propriety be called waking dreams come and go, I know not how. It will not, therefore, appear singular, that I am perfectly unable to account for the desultory ramblings of my mind, on the present occasion. They might, indeed, have become collected and rational, had they been allowed to continue; but, alas! they were evanescent as they were illusive; for, while endeavouring to "mould and fix” them, I was hurried away, with unimagined speed, from the world of real existence, and introduced, sans ceremonie, into the region of

unsubstantial vision.

The sun had reached its greatest altitude, and enveloped in its sphery radiance the visible creation. At the same time, a soft breeze, which perfumed the air with aromatic odour, qualified the blazing heat, 2D. SERIES, NO. 13.-VOL. II.

rendering that a subduing luxury, which could otherwise have been perfectly insufferable. A scene, so extensive and beautiful, as infinitely to surpass, not only what I had ever before beheld, but beyond what the fascinating powers of the poet had ever described, opened before me. Neither the singular fertility of Thessaly's Arcadian scenery, above whose extensive vale the Pindus, and Pelion, raise their beautiful sublime heights of Olympus, Ossa, Æta, Boeotia, abounding as it does with fertilizridges, as if to adorn and defend; nor ing streams and spacious lakes, united with its fascinating appendage of classic mountains, Parnassus and Helicon; nor even Italy, that land of sun and softness, ever presented to my enraptured sight views of such nameless beauty. Want of any kind did not exist, and, hence, desire was no sooner felt than gratified.

My spirit had insensibly become absorbed in the contemplation of this new distant music stole upon my ear, not only world of wonders which I beheld, when of a kind entirely unlike any to which I had ever before listened, but which produced emotions in my mind, altogether new and unaccountable, so as to set at defiance all attempts to describe or define it by any known expression. It was at once wild and plaintive, animating, yet subduing. Gradually, yet imperceptibly, it drew near and yet nearer. My eye turned mechanically towards the point whence the sound proceeded, when, as if emerging from a cloud of newly-raised dust, a youthful female figure, of exquisite form, appeared before me; and, in the most fascinating attitude moved airily towards my resting-place. Flowers appeared to spring beneath her feet; but she had no sooner passed them, than they either shrivelled up, as if smitten by the sirocco of the desert, or a rough and unsightly barrenness almost immediately followed.

I perceived, on a nearer approach, that her hair was braided with a wreath of flowers, while one or two small auburn ringlets, as if by accident, had escaped, and played on her cheeks, which were constantly animated by a smile. Her dress, which was of the most lustrous colours, and of gossamer brightness, fluttered in the gentle air, which her motion increased. The music that I had heard proceeded from an instrument which my fair visitant carried in her hand. Of its precise character, as to its class or tone, I can furnish no particular information. It sent forth most eloquent music; wonderfully strange, nor less entrancing. Among its full

D

157.-VOL. XIV.

majestic swells, it might, without any effort of fancy, have been imagined, that all the various instruments which the ancients knew, or which the moderns use, were sounding with enchanting melody. Suddenly, the harmony died away, as if to give additional effect to what was to follow. A deep silence succeeded; it was as an allowed breathing-time to the spirit, which astonishment had bound up in its mystic bands. The pause was of short duration; for notes, even more delectable than those to which I had before listened, floated upon the breath of heaven, as the maiden sang a soft air

And when the stilly silence broke,

As warbled forth her magic tongue,
It seem'd as if an angel spoke,

Or some unearthly being sung.
And yet there was no effort made,
No anxious striving to excel;

It was-but language is not made

To speak the nameless, powerful spell.

As she sang, I perceived an hoary, but athletic figure, moving towards her, with alarming celerity, bearing in his hand a naked scythe, with which he mowed down all that opposed his progress. The instrument glittered fearfully in the rays of the sun; but neither it, nor its sturdy bearer, produced any effect upon the fair trouba dour. She still continued her enchanting strains of invitation.

I continued to gaze, with increasing surprise, and soon beheld crowds rushing from every quarter, and pressing round the fair one's person. These were of all ages, from the stripling of a few years old, to the aged and decrepit, bending beneath the weight of lengthened days; and all ranks of society seemed to forget distinction, while fascinated by the personage to whose tones they listened. To each she was equally attentive, and gave her smiles as freely to the half-clothed plebeian, as to the gorgeously apparelled monarch. Each individual displayed the utmost anxiety to press into her favour; and as she administered to the crowd, from a vessel which glittered like gold, an intoxicating beverage, they unanimously crowned her as a goddess, and bowed down and worshipped her. Even haughty kings, and imperious nobles, laid their honours at her feet, and, with a servility equally humiliating as that displayed by the pauper, eagerly swore fealty to her.

I was not a little surprised to behold, pressing through the motley group, a host of females! Nothing could oppose them; they advanced, even to the foot of the throne of their only deity; and, while they were exposed to every kind of indignity,

at which I imagined modesty would have blushed, or turned pale, they braved the whole, for a smile from the goddess.

Close by the side of these, was ranged a multitude of personages, who were habited in black robes, some of whom had mitres upon their heads. These having argued with the assembly upon the folly of their bowing at the feet of the goddess, turned, and fell down before her themselves. The several evolutions performed by the worshippers before the deity, were of the most disgusting order, and, at the same time, accompanied by noises of the most deafening description.

Meanwhile, the personage to whom I have referred, with the scythe in his hand, drew near the assembly; few, however, among them perceived his approach, and even these turned away their sight from the tokens of his advance. Still, as he came on, attempts were made, by some, to prevent his so speedy progress, but in vain; no barrier which could be raised, formed the least obstacle to his march. Presently, I saw one and another dragged from the foot of the throne, by a dreadful-visaged form, in the commission of the athletic personage. Their shrieks were most appalling, and their resistance and entreaties were of the most violent order; but, neither shrieks, nor resistance, nor prayers availed; they were borne off, and my eye followed them, writhing beneath the grasp of their detainer, until they entered an awful gloom, which vision could not penetrate. Some few, immediately connected with those who were borne away, appeared for a while to grieve at their loss; but it was soon evident that they had only assumed the form of sorrow, and knew nothing of the thing itself: nay, in many cases, it was a visible cause of joy, although parents even were the individuals who had been seized, as, by their fall, a nearer approach to the goddess was enjoyed by them; hence, they dashed away a tear which they might have forced from their eye, and pursued the devoirs with increased avidity. The majority was ignorant of the loss of their fellows, and pressed onward in their acts of dedication.

Still, Pleasure (for that I had learned, was the general appellation which the goddess assumed, although she was known to her devotees under an almost endless variety of titles,) continued, by her new and increasing fascinations, to attract numbers to her shrine. Suddenly, she assumed a form which I had not before beheld. Virtue seemed to stand embodied before me: innocency beamed from her mild and

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