enough to enable him to escape, or his zeal in exploring the secrets of volcanic action might have been as fatal to him as it was of old to Empedocles."

This warning does not appear to have been lost upon our author, who took the precaution to have an escort in his ascent of the mountain. The substratum was found to be tuff in beds, some of which were compact, others loose and friable, consisting chiefly of pumice, like those about Pompeia; many caverns, once the resort of robbers, were seen in it. The waters of a spring in the neighborhood afforded ninety per cent. of nitrogen, and the same gas was observed to escape from a fissure in the rock hard by.

About half way up the mountain, the party found themselves in an amphitheatre of hills, which had every appearance of having been the crater of the volcano; its form was nearly circular, and the brim almost entire. Very little volcanic matter was found on the surface. The rocks encircling it varied in height, some attaining more than one thousand feet above the margin, and one of them forming the summit, there being no crater at the highest point. Within this crater were seen two lakes, in one of which fishes abound; at times, inflammable gases are said to be given off, and jets of water have been known to be suddenly projected to the height of fifteen feet from the surface. From these circumstances, Dr. Daubeny's inference that the volcanic energies are not exhausted, seems fully warranted.

On the borders of one of the lakes are the ruins of a church dedicated to St. Hippolito, and above it is a Franciscan convent; "once a year Melfi pours forth its whole population on a pilgrimage to this sacred spot, prompted by the double motive of paying their adoration to the shrine, and of commemorating the escape which a portion of the inhabitants experienced in 1528, by secreting themselves within the crater, and thus eluding the fury of the French troops under Lautrec, who took the town by assault, and put all that remained to the sword."*

Dr. Daubeny could not discover that Mount Vultur had ever been measured barometrically, and he is inclined to think that its height much exceeds that given to it by Dr. Boué, namely, fourteen hundred feet; for its summit appeared more conspicu

Such was the account given on the spot, but Dr. Daubeny remarks that it is not confirmed by the narrative of the taking of Melfi by Guicciardini or by Sismondi.

ously from Frigento, than that of Somma over the Apennine ridge. Its circumference is stated at about twenty-two miles.

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No streams of lava were observed on the flanks of the mountain, and our author remarks, that if there be any such, they are concealed by the thick bed of black unctuous soil, resulting from the mixture of volcanic ashes and clay, and from the decomposition of harder materials. "The extent to which this has taken place, the rare occurrence, in a mountain which once was the theatre of such extensive volcanic operations, of loose blocks, and the entire disappearance of streams of lava, would alone imply the great interval of time that had elapsed since their occurrence; but another proof of the same was afforded in the existence of a deep and wide valley, which we crossed on our way, extending from the bottom of the mountain nearly up to the crater, completely covered by vegetation, and with its superficial strata reduced altogether to the condition of a rich and slippery loam." "What an idea of antiquity," continues our author, "does the complete concealment by vegetation of the streams of lava convey to the mind, when we recollect the ages required to cover over even with lichen those of Etna or Vesuvius? yet the whole of the eruptions were posterior to the formation of the tuff constituting the base of the mountain."

This interesting narrative is concluded by some general remarks suggested by the phenomena which have been described in it, and we should do injustice to the author did we pass them over in silence. The first is, that volcanic action has been most remarkably developed, along a line of country extending from the parallel of Naples, to that of Mount Vultur. It is considered as commencing in Ischia with the well known hot springs, and here true volcanic operations have been observed at distant intervals of time. The continuation at Vesuvius is familiar to all, and obvious; but following the line across the Apennines, no distinct indication of volcanic action is observable, except at the Lake Amsanctus. Having traversed the Apennines, and descended its eastern slope, we perceive, says Dr. Daubeny, standing in the same relation to that chain on the one side, which Vesuvius does on the other, a mountain similar in form and structure, but evincing no analogous phenomena at present, except the emission of carbonic acid, and sulphuretted hydrogen, and those occasional rumblings of the earth beneath, which attend an eruption of Vesuvius. If not an evidence of the connexion of those two distant spots, or of a sympathy be

tween them, it is difficult, as our author says, to account for the almost entire quiescence of the one, and the determination of the volcanic energy to the other.

The objection that Vesuvius is close to the sea, and Vultur thirty miles distant now, is no evidence that this may have been the case formerly; since, as remarked by Dr. Daubeny, the waters of the Adriatic, if they did not actually wash the sides of Mount Vultur, once came within a short distance of its base. The indications of an extreme antiquity, are such as to carry back the date of its activity so far, as to render it probable that in the time of the Romans, its condition was but little different from that at the present time. In support of this opinion, Dr. Daubeny has adduced many circumstances and references to writers of antiquity. With a greater breadth of surface, the volcanic band, as it may be termed, will include, on the side of the Mediterranean, the islands of Ponza, and on that of the Adriatic, those of Tremili.

This narrative is accompanied with a map of the country, on which the volcanic belt is delineated, and with several beautiful sketches of Melfi and Mount Vultur. In closing our remarks, we would renewedly recommend this work to the attention of geological students, and express a hope that the accomplished author will give us the results of his observations upon the West India islands, to which it is understood he has very recently made an excursion.

ART. III.-The Music of Nature; or an attempt to prove that what is passionate and pleasing in the art of singing, speaking, and performing upon musical instruments, is derived from the sounds of the animated world. With curious and interesting illustrations. By WILLIAM GARDINER. Boston: J. H. Wilkins and R. B. Carter. 1837.

THIS very pleasing work has been lately re-published in this country, in a style worthy of the original. It is rarely our good fortune to see so elegant a re-print of any English work; the author himself might look at it with satisfaction and even pride, as a sort of posthumous compliment; and we sincerely hope that the publishers who have had spirit enough to get it up in this form may be well repaid for their trouble.

Though we had seen the work before, and knew the reputation of the author, we never had an opportunity of reading it till the American edition appeared; and we now rise from the perusal with so much satisfaction, that we heartily wish to persuade all the lovers of music to buy and read it. It is entirely fitted for general readers; no science, nor previous knowledge of the art or practice of music is necessary to make it intelligible and interesting; "he that runs may read;" and a few hours, very pleasantly spent, will bring him to the close.

We

The work is different from what the title had led us to suppose it. "The Music of Nature" is a rather indefinite name. had, when we first heard it, certain dim and rather grand visions of some theory or science of which this was the title; which the author had devoted this work to expound. We fancied that some person of more than usually gifted senses, combined with rare intellect, had discovered the key-note of Nature's anthem, and had traced its melody with all the rich and full accompaniment of harmony swelling into one sublime hallelujah to the praise of the Almighty, from the softest whisper of the breeze, the gentlest hum of the insect, and the carol of the bird, to the roar of the storm, and the deep bass of the Ocean's roll, the recitative of the elements: and perhaps had penetrated even de mystery of that heavenly music of the revolving worlds which burst upon the ravished senses of Scipio. And even if these discoveries were beyond the reach of mortal sense, we still ima

or

gined that the author with uncommon attention to the sounds of nature, might have demonstrated how the common notes produced by animals, by the wind, and by all the various actions of nature, were the elements from which the science and art of music as we now possess them has been formed.

But the work is very different from this; it does not aim at any thing new or original: it contains no wonderful theory; it does not even discuss the vexed question of the origin of music. It gives only a simple and highly interesting account of music as it actually exists in the world obvious to the senses of every one. The sounds uttered by a great variety of animals are reduced to written notes; the cries of the various traffickers in the streets, the chime and changes of bells, the tones of the voice in conversation, the rhythm of language, the philosophy of echoes and ominous sounds are all described and commented upon. A history of the invention and use of all the most remarkable kinds of musical instruments is given, with a description of the kinds of tone produced by them, their compass, capacities, and uses. The work also contains an account of some of the most remarkable vocalists of the present day, and accurate descriptions of their style of singing; and finally, we have a short but masterly treatise upon the works and genius of some of the greatest composers. The whole is enlivened with interesting anecdotes connected with the subject, and facts which amuse and astonish.

Such is the "Music of Nature;" a book which gives an account of all the different kinds of music that the world offers. It is not a profound treatise; a work so diffusive in its character could not be so, without swelling to the size of an encyclopedia. The chapters on Thorough Bass and Modulation, for instance, do but glance at the subjects, attempting only to give the reader a notion of their nature and extent without pretending to investigate them. And yet we feel that the author is a complete master of the science of music; that these remarks are but the exuberance of his knowledge thrown off without effort, and without consulting authorities; perhaps at leisure moments and enjoying the comforts of an arm-chair. A more entertaining book we have not read for a long time; it conveys no greater information on the art of music than every well-educated person ought to possess, while at the same time many of the hints and directions may be of great use to the young performer; and yet it is so pleasant and amusing, and carries the reader along so agreeably, that it might be classed among our "light reading." The author has done well to call it the "Music of Nature,"