"screened the herdsman's solitary hut;' but the poet's friend, Throckmorton, proved to him afterwards that the trees in question were poplars. It is rather singular that a later poet, as meditative, and also in a degree pensive, yet not enriched with Cowper's quiet humour, and belonging to a different school of poetry-the illustrious Wordsworth, should also tell of a hut which had lofty elms as its screen, long the dwelling of a lonely woman. He also describes one who used to visit the spot, as raising his eyes to the trees, and saying to a friend beside him, in the height of a summer's day: ""Tis now the hour of deepest noon. At this still season of repose and peace, This hour, when all things which are not at rest Are cheerful,.. VOL. XVIII.-Second Series. Why should we thus, with an untoward mind Though we may admire the sentiment of these lines, it is not difficult to prove that they only give us half the truth. The "religion of nature" may soothe the philosophic mind, and impart some semblance of peace, but it affords no firm basis for the immortal soul to rest upon, conscious that it cannot say, what could be uttered by the smallest pebble or plant, had such objects a voice,-that it has not transgressed against its God! The Christian, while admiring the material works of the Creator, will exclaim, in the words of the bard of Olney, already referred to, Y "Instruct me, guide me to that heavenly day, Thy words, more clearly than Thy works, display, That while Thy truths my grosser thoughts refine, I may resemble Thee, and call Thee mine." Our great poet Milton, the bard of Paradise, had a liking for the elm, and he tells us how pleasant and invigorating he found it to quit the hum of London, and her crowded streets, (if he thought it bustling in his day, what would he say to it now?) and resort for contemplation to the shady parks and woods around the city, where thick shades of elm shut out the sun. A great many of these have now fallen by the axe, and in some instances the ground, formerly quiet woodland, now bears a thick crop of houses, and exhibits paved ways instead of grassy paths. And again does Milton speak of the elm in his "L'Allegro," "Sometimes walking, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, or hillocks green, But, if we are to credit antiquarians, a poet much more venerable, and whose lot was cast in a Pagan land, has an allusion to the elm. This tree is thought to be the one named by Homer, in Book xxi. of his "Iliad," where he describes a tree as affording a bridge to the half-drowned Achilles, when the river Xanthus formed a rapid torrent. The too-prevalent custom of lopping off the lower branches of the elm does not tend to improve the appearance of solitary trees, which, as we view them from a distance, have a singular aspect, especially if they are posted on some rising ground. It must be admitted that even when seen to most advantage, the elm has a sombre look in summer, produced by its dark-green foliage, but towards autumn it has a lighter appearance, the leaves being then tinted with yellow. This tree is amongst those which rise to a considerable height, and a pert elm, planted perhaps at the same time as an oak standing beside it, will frequently rise far above the monarch of the woods, though not attaining the solid proportions of the oak. Some elms have reached the height of one hundred and twenty feet, and seventy or eighty feet is not at all unusual. There are some elms of good age in Britain, and, were it true, as some say, that the Crusaders brought the elm with them from Palestine, specimens have been cut down, which, from the number of rings which could be counted in the wood, showed that their date of birth must be almost as far back as that period of history. The Wych or Scotch elm is most certainly a native of Britain, if its relative the common elm, called by botanists Ulmus campestris, is not. And in the northern part of our isle, where, in some localities, trees are scarce, they have reason to delight in their elms; in some cases connected with history or romance, as, for instance, the famed "Trysting Tree" of Tiviotdale. 66 Superstitions have connected themselves with this Scotch elm, (Ulmus montana,) because it also bears the name of the Wych elm. Possibly it was supposed to furnish the traditional wooden horse on which persons addicted to witchcraft were said to transport themselves through the regions of the air. But in fact the names "wych" and "witch" have no real association, and many think that the elm was called wych" from an old Saxon term, which is sometimes applied to an enclosure of any sort. The elm of both species is found very serviceable for the formation of hedges, and these trees are to be seen in greatest number about the habitations of man, or the ground he cultivates. The Wych elm has larger leaves, and branches which are rather inclined to droop; the trunk also is frequently adorned (or disfigured?) with excrescences or wens, which, when removed and polished, furnish some very elegant cabinet-work. The timber of the elm stands moisture far better than many other woods, and hence it has been used for water-pipes, mill-wheels, and in shipbuilding, for the keels of vessels of great magnitude. The wood of the Scotch elm is specially tough. In former times, according to Evelyn, farmers used to feed pigs and cattle with the leaves of the elm, and preserve them in sacks, in a dried condition, if the winter appeared likely to be a bad one for obtaining fodder. Modern folks, however, do not make this use of the elm, so far as I am aware; indeed, on the other hand, I have heard it stated that horses and cows should not be allowed to browse on the branches. The by-passer will often notice an elm which has lost large slices of its bark, and on the exposed wood he will also see a number of round holes, some open, and some filled up with fine dust. If the month be June, he may probably finda good many small beetles, at rest, or crawling slowly about. These insignificant fellows are representatives of a species called the Elm - destroying Scolytus. The parent beetles have strong jaws, and each female bores a gallery in the wood to receive her eggs; dying at last in the cell she has formed. Do we wish to know what has become of her progeny ? If we take up a piece of the bark, and look at the inner surface, we discover that it is mapped over in a curious manner, with meandering lines, each of which may be traced to a common startingpoint. This spot was where the little grubs were hatched from the eggs; and these creatures (worm-like, and not at all resembling their parents in this stage of their existence) continue to feed through autumn, winter, and spring, to come forth in summer as perfect beetles. Not only popular, but scientific belief, attributed to the Scolytus the death of many elms, and even of long avenues of the tree; and with seeming reason. But now it is thought that the huge caterpillar of the Goat moth, of which mention has been made, is the secret cause of the damage sustained, and that the beetle only finishes off the work of destruction. Upon the leaves of the elm, much more common in some seasons than in others, we find those sluggish creatures called Aphides, better known in gardens as the " "green" or "black blight." These insects are most of them wingless, and it is a curious fact that the effect of their attacks upon the leaves is to make them turn colour, and curl up, thus giving a shelter to the enemy, which thus escapes some of its foes. For surely this Aphis is one of the most helpless of insects, furnished with a long sucker, it is true, yet this is only available to draw the sap from the plant or tree on which the little group is resting and feeding, since Aphides love to be together, and certainly live most amicably; each individual, as it makes its escape from the egg - shell, duly taking its place behind its brethren, that are advancing in a party along some leaf or twig. This Though not so many caterpillars undergo their transformations on the elm as on some other trees, it has several notable species peculiar to itself, and amongst these is that of the Black Hairstreak Butterfly. The perfect insect, though small, is a rapid flier, but it may be taken when settled on blossoms, having a great liking for those of the bramble. The eggs are laid in the summer on the elm-twigs, and they do not hatch until the following year. The young caterpillar is rarely found; as it grows larger, it is occasionally beaten into a net or umbrella by the insect-hunter in those counties where it occurs. is one of the singular caterpillars quite woodlouse-shaped in appearance, there being a series of ridges down the back which overlap each other, and at those times when it is reposing, the head and legs are hidden from view. Very much larger, though also a singular object, is the caterpillar of the moth known as the Lime Hawk, though more frequently to be discovered feeding upon the elm. This has seven stripes of yellow on its green skin, which is roughened like 'shagreen," and the tail bears a conspicuous horn. This is an autumn feeder, the moth flying forth in the June following; a beautiful creature with a rich bar of dark green, and a border of the same hue, disposed upon the upper wings of olive-brown. A pretty "Looper 66 caterpillar," not uncommon on the elm in some English counties, is that of the Clouded Magpie, the moth being a near relative of that too abundant species which is the parent of the caterpillars, cream-coloured, orange, and black, which prey freely on our gooseberry and currant bushes in the spring. The Clouded Magpie caterpillar is gray, however, with two yellow stripes, rows of black dots, and a black head. Still commoner, being seen in all parts of England and Ireland, is the variegated caterpillar of the Mottled Umber moth. It is scarcely an inch long; yet when occurring, as it sometimes does, by thousands, it causes an obvious bareness in the trees it has made its resort. Mr. Newman, the great entomologist, tells us that these little fellows delight to swing from a twig, suspended by a silken thread, and that they will thus remain for hours when there is a gentle breeze about the end of May. It is probable that they drop so in order to baffle some of their natural enemies. The moth flies late in autumn. Living upon the elm there are to be seen in summer several species of small caterpillars, which carry their houses upon their backs. We notice on a leaf what appears to be a tiny piece of stalk, and to our astonishment, out of a round hole at one end pops a head, followed by a pair of legs, and the caterpillar within begins to travel over the leaf, dragging his house or tent after him. This little tent is cut out by the caterpillar with great ingenuity from the membranes of the leaf, and suitable pieces having been shaped, they are joined together with silk. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. BY REV. J. WHITEHEAD. LICHFIELD, in Staffordshire, has the honour of being the birthplace of Samuel Johnson. He was born in the year 1709. His father, Michael Johnson, was a country bookseller; a man of good understanding, but disposed to melancholy, which was afterwards a characteristic of his greater son. The mother of Samuel Johnson came from an ancient race of substantial yeomanry, named Ford, resident at King's-Norton, in Warwickshire. She seems to have been a strong-minded though uneducated woman; and she endeavoured to train her son in those habits of virtue wherein consists the true happiness of life. Both parents being members of the Church of England, Johnson was educated in the faith and customs of that communion. Of his mother he ever spoke in terms of the greatest love and deepest respect; in fact, his love for his mother was one of the noblest characteristics of the man. From his childhood he was afflicted with scrofula, which disfigured his countenance, affected to a considerable degree the sight of one eye, and subjected him to much of that lowness of spirits which is often the accompaniment of ill-health. In his obscure home at Lichfield, he grew up a strange, awkward, ungainly lad; joining but little in the sports of other boys, partly because of his defective vision, partly because of his bodily indisposition, and partly from a dreamy inertness which more or less characterized him during life. The greater part of his early training was received at Lichfield Grammar School, one of the many educational establishments founded by the piety and wisdom of our forefathers, which have done so much in giving solidity to English scholarship. Johnson there distinguished himself by his great acquisitiveness, his tenacious memory, and ambition to excel; and received an excellent preparation for Oxford, to which University he repaired in his nineteenth year, through the kindness of a Shropshire gentleman, for his father was not in circumstances to afford such an expense. At the University his favourite studies were ethics, theology, and classical literature; and though generally reserved in his demeanour, he frequently gave proofs of his extensive reading by quoting in conversation passages from obscure ancient writers. But his poverty was a drag upon his industry. He read widely, but only in a desultory manner. He became reckless; tried to banish his care by foolish frolics; and whenever tricks were to be played on masters or students, Samuel Johnson was ready to lend a willing hand. Years afterwards, Johnson, referring to this period of his life, said, "I was mad and violent then. It was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so I disregarded all power and authority." At one time his poverty was extreme; his shoes being so far worn into holes that his feet appeared through them. He was too proud to accept of money or of a gift; when a friend left a pair of new shoes at his room door, he flung them away with indignation. After three years' residence at Oxford, his poverty compelled him to leave the University without a degree. Whilst Johnson was at Oxford, there was another student at that venerable seat of learning, whose memory is still reverenced by all who reverence Christian earnestness and zeal. George Whitefield was a member of Pembroke College. Johnson had but little regard for Whitefield. He would not allow much merit to his oratory. "His popularity, Sir," said he, "is chiefly owing to the peculiarity of his manner. He would be followed by crowds, were he to wear a nightcap, or were he to preach from a tree." He indeed was forced to acknowledge Whitefield's success, but it was reluctantly. We can by no means endorse his judgment of the great preacher. Our heart goes out to the devoted Minister of Christ. We turn with admiring gaze to the man whose life-long hymn was,— "The love of Christ doth me constrain To seek the wandering souls of men; With cries, entreaties, tears, to save, To snatch them from the gaping grave." The glory of moral greatness rests upon such a life as that. And after all is said of Johnson's abilities, his vast acquirements, his voluminous and invaluable literary productions; when we remember Whitefield's self-denying labours, and the marvellous success of his devoted career, we feel constrained to say, "That is the nobler and more blessed life." "He that winneth souls is wise." It was while he was at the University that Johnson began to think seriously about religion. His mind and conscience were awakened through reading Law's "Serious Call to the Unconverted." William Law was a devotional writer living in the early part of the last century. His book just mentioned is the one by which he is best known. Johnson tells us that he "first learned from it to think in earnest about religion." He also admired the work from a literary point of view, and regarded it as "the finest specimen of hortatory theology in any language." Johnson was throughout life a devoted member of the Established Church; and, as far as we can learn, with the exception of one brief period, he walked in the fear of God, though he did not realize His forgiving love till just before the end of his earthly life. When Johnson left Oxford, he returned to Lichfield, poor, destitute, not knowing how he should gain a decent livelihood. His father's misfortunes in trade rendered him unable to support his son; and for some time there appeared no means by which the young scholar might support himself. His father died in the same year, and all the legacy that Johnson received amounted to twenty pounds. He was now forced to seek employment, and for some time acted as usher in a school at MarketBosworth, in Leicestershire. But the position was most irksome to him. The patron of the school was an insolent, overbearing man, and made the assistant's life miserable. The post of usher does not seem to have been at all desirable in those days. Goldsmith, the friend of the subject of this paper, once acted in that capacity, and liked it no better than his illustrious brother |