Mary, and, without saying a word, seized her arm, and led or rather dragged her to the outermost gate of the episcopal palace; there, pointing to the threshold, she said, 'If you dare to set foot on these stones again-if you try to re-enter the house, I will have you scourged out, as persons of your class deserve. Go and seek the accomplice of your intrigues, but never venture to pronounce my name or that of my brother's, or you will be driven out of the town as you are out of this house.' This said, she departed, leaving the unhappy Mary distressed, overwhelmed, and almost dying. She sank on the steps of the staircase sobbing violently, with her face hidden in her hands. At this moment, Jehan Pastelot was going out, meditating so deeply on his singular conversation with the bishop, that, without seeing her, his foot struck against the maiden. She raised her head mechanically. Miss Mary!' cried he. Her only answer was her tears. I see it all,' said he: that wicked woman has abandoned you. She punishes you for her gross mistake, and I am the innocent cause of your misfortune. Let me know,' he added, gently, what are your projects, what are you going to do; for it is my duty to aid you with my counsel and advice. Where shall I conduct you?'

'Alas, I know not myself! I know no one on earth. I am without an asylum and without protectors! I can but die.'

'It shall not be said,' returned the young man, moved at so much desolation- It shall not be said that you were left in such an extremity. But as this is neither the place nor the moment for such a conversation, do me the honour to come to my mother's house. There you will find a more useful and more fitting protection than that of a young man like myself. Dry your tears, then, for I assure you that neither my mother nor myself will ever abandon you.'

Well thought! well said!' interrupted a thick but good-natured voice, which was no other than the bishop's. The prelate had softly approached Jehan and Mary, and listened to their conversation. Well thought and well said. I have heard all. You are a good young man, Master Pastelot; and you, Mary, in spite of the foolish and unjust prejudices of my sister, shall return to the palace, and she must own her faults.'

Mary made a gesture of alarm, and instinctively drew nearer the draper.

'But, indeed,' continued the bishop, the life you lead with my sister is insupportable, and the events of to-day will not have improved it. But on the other hand, if you take refuge in Master Pastelot's house, my sister will exclaim she has triumphed. In vain I shall tell the truth; calumny will still have its way, and inquire why you took refuge precisely with the same person whom you are accused of loving. We must find something else.'

'My lord,' suggested Jehan, there is a very easy way to arrange all this. You will conduct Miss Mary to my aunt's house, my mother's sister, Catherine Margerin, who keeps a shop for fine linen in the Great Square, at the sign of the Pearl; you can tell her that you desire the young lady to be brought up to the business, and that she is her apprentice. Your recommendation will remove all difficulties, and my aunt Margerin would do anything on receiving a visit from my lord the bishop.'

What say you of this project, my dear Mary?' inquired the bishop.

'Oh, I accept it with gratitude.' 'Well-very well,' declared the prelate. The council is dissolved. Dry your eyes, Mary, and lean on my arm. And you, friend, return to your shop, and not a word of all this. It is a secret between us four-my sister, who never goes out; myself, who will be silent; and you two, whom I forbid to mention it, not even to your aunt, Jehan, nor to your mother, and still less to your sister. Luckily, no one has passed before the palace during our conference, and besides we are screened by this pillar. Adieu, Master Pastelot. The draper bowed low to the bishop, and Mary and her protector walked towards the shop of the linen merchant.

Dame Margerin was occupied in serving some customers when they entered. I am rejoiced to see you in good health, my dear Dame Margerin,' said the bishop. I am come to request a good office from you. Here is a maiden whom I love as my own daughter: she only dreams of trade, and I thought no one than you could be so fit a mistress. Therefore, Dame Margerin, I leave her with you; your conditions shall be mine; besides, I shall often come and see my pupil, and chat with you.' He then departed, leaving the shopkeeper overwhelmed with pride and joy. By her affectionate manners, Dame Margerin soon gained the friendship of the poor child, heretofore so roughly treated by the redoubtable sister of the bishop. The next day every one in the town knew that the bishop had apprenticed his pupil with Dame Margerin, and every one envied her, still more so when they saw the prelate pay her a visit, a second time, in the middle of the day. Dame Catherine Margerin, daughter of a tolerably affluent citizen of Soissons, had married in her twenty-first year a young linen-merchant of their neighbourhood, whom she had loved from childhood. The smallest agitation had never troubled their pure and holy love, and their union was calm and happy, till the fatal day when death deprived her of her husband. Catherine almost sank under her grief, and but for the devotion of her sister, Dame Pastelot, despair would have brought her to the grave; but the affectionate tenderness of that excellent woman recalled her to existence, and by degrees she became resigned to the lamented separation, which left her so sadly and so completely isolated. It therefore may be easily judged that a warm reception awaited Mary from this poor heart, disinherited of the only affection that had ever filled it. Cathe rine loved her immediately, as though she were a daughter whom God had given her; and Mary experienced in this simple and sweet tenderness a kindness to which she had long been a stranger.

The maiden's time now passed with a rapidity which she had never before known, either at the convent or with the rude sister of the bishop. My child,' said Dame Catherine, one evening after the shop was closed, and Mary was ready, as usual, to take her seat at their large workingtable, we have something else now to do than make caps and embroider cuffs. To-morrow my sister and her two children come and dine with me, and we must prepare to give them a good reception. Jehan is a charming lad,' added she; and when you have seen him I am sure you'll like him.' The approaching visit caused also much agitation in Dame Pastelot's mansion; Jane and her mother conversed about Dame Margerin's new apprentice, whom they longed to see, and Jehan's heart beat violently. When the visiters arrived, Catherine was loud in the praises of her apprentice, not forgetting to recount the four visits which the bishop had paid her in five days, and luckily did not see the smile which appeared on her nephew's lips at some of her reflections on these grand news. When it was evening, Jehan found that the day had passed with frightful rapidity. Jane could not express how charming she thought Mary, and Dame Pastelot was enchanted with the attentions the young lady had paid her.

A whole year rolled on in this happy manner for Mary. The bishop frequently visited her, to escape the violence of his sister, who considered it an insult to herself that the prelate should show any affection to a person whom she had driven out of her presence. And as for Jehan, he always found some business that obliged him, at first once or twice in the week, then every day, and finally two or three times a-day, to visit his aunt, where he passed whole hours. Dame Catherine smiled to herself, and Mary, when Jehan delayed a little, and the usual hour was passed, felt anxious and sad. But her noble and beautiful countenance brightened when the young man appeared, who, by his handsome and gallant mien, justified her interest. On one of these visits, Jehan said- Can it be, Mary, that you love me?' She let her hand fall timidly into the hand of the happy betrothed, and her head reclined on her bosom, but on a sudden she raised it. Why should I hide what I am proud to tell you?' murmured she; Jehan, I love you.'

The next morning, the Bishop of Soisscas received the visit of Master Jehan, dressed in his best suit. Apparently the prelate suspected the cause, or he read the motives of his coming on the young man's face, for before he had arisen he said, 'Ah! ah! my lad, it appears you no longer take young girls for ancient dowagers. You look them in the face, and you desire to see them nearer that may be seen in your eyes.'

'Since you know the motive of my visit, I hope you will

consent

To grant you Mary in marriage. There has about a year passed since I conceived this project, and I await its execution. Yes, my lad, I give you that dear girl's hand; and I am glad to confide the care of her happiness to the worthiest young man I know of.' Jehan bowed deeply to the bishop. I will,' continued the bishop, celebrate your marriage myself in my episcopal church with all my clergy. I will have a pomp that shall make your wedding talked of for a hundred years.'

Thanks,' replied the betrothed, quite confused; and he was about to retire, when the bishop recalled him.

'It appears to me, friend, that we have forgotten something-the most essential after the wife: the dowry.' 'I have foreseen your desires, my lord. I give by the marriage-contract four thousand crowns to my wife.' Without counting that she brings you twelve thousand, which her unknown parents sent with her to the late Abbess of Notre-Dame of Soissons; and I hope you will not be discontented with my nuptial present. What! does not this unexpected fortune cause you greater joy than you show?' 'I am rich enough for both, my lord; and then I desired and he stopped.

You are a good and honourable lad,' replied the bishop, much moved; but Mary will not owe thee less gratitude, and twelve thousand crowns cannot spoil anything. Adieu! When is the marriage to be?'

In fifteen days, my lord.' Jehan then returned to inform Mary and his family of the good news he had learned from the bishop; and from that moment the four ladies set to work with ardour. At length the memorable day arrived. At noon, two litters, with servitors in the episcopal livery, stopped before the linen-merchant's house, and the charming bride entered the first, accompanied by Dame Pastelot, Jane, and Dame Margerin; Jehan and three of his friends took their places in the second; and the cortège set off for the cathedral, adorned that day as for a grand solemnity.

The bishop, in his pontifical habits, received them in the porch, and conducted them to the foot of the grand altar, where he concluded the ceremony by an address to the newly wedded pair, and afterwards took his place at the banquet, which did the greatest honour to Dame Margerin. Ten years brought only one particular event among the persons who till now have taken a greater or less part in the present history. It was the death of the Countess Lydorie Penevent, who departed this life at Paris, and let the good bishop return to a liberty which he scarcely knew what to do with, and a repose which rendered him at first almost unhappy. But he soon became delighted with this peaceful change, thanks to the respectful friendship showed to him by Jehan Pastelot, his young wife, and all the members of that family, including Jane, who was happily married to a goldsmith of the town; and Dame Margerin, who having disposed of her shop, had come to live with her nephew and her former apprentice.

It happened, in the year 1603, towards the month of June, that the great altar of the episcopal church had to be repaired, and the bishop chose himself to remove from the tabernacle the holy vases and consecrated hosts. To his great surprise, he found amongst them a golden box, sealed with the seal of the bishop his predecessor, and carefully placed in a corner, which the door of the tabernacle hid when it was opened, in such a manner that it was impossible to discover it. He carried this box to his house,

and after a long consideration as to whether he should open it or leave it intact, he decided that the bishop having been dead twenty years, he might without any scruple satisfy his curiosity. He broke the seals, therefore, and found a tress of hair contained in a golden medallion; and with it two parchments. One was an act of baptism in these words:

'I, Louis Jérôme, bishop of the diocese of Soissons, the 10th of February, in the year of our Lord 1568, baptised the high and mighty Damoiselle Mary Stuart, legitimate daughter of her most Christian Majesty Mary, Queen of Scotland and England, and of James, Earl of Bothwell. The sponsors were the venerable Brother M'Mahan, of the minor order of Saint Benedict, the Bishop of Soissons, and the venerable Dame Mary Mowbray, superior of the Abbey of Notre-Dame of Soissons. According to which I sign, JEROME, Bishop.'

The following letter was with this act: 'Dear and venerable Dame Mary-At the moment I writo to you, I am a prisoner in Lochleven Castle, and have just brought a daughter into the world. I have every thing to fear for the destiny if not for the life of this poor child; and, on her account, I have had already much to suffer. The 18th of July, this year, when my husband, the Earl of Bothwell, had fled to Norway, the lords, who were members of the secret council of Scotland, proposed to render null my union with the said count, and to declare it forced and illegitimate; but though that were truth, for it was with a poniard at my bosom that I gave my consent to this marriage, I obstinately refused to yield to the wishes of the lords of the secret council, for my child's sake, on whom it would have ever fixed shame and illegitimacy. I wrote to my family of Lorraine, who blame me exceedingly for my maternal perseverance; and thus I have no other faithful and sure friend to whom I can confide this dear child, born in captivity, and in the midst of anxieties. Bring her up secretly in your abbey, without revealing to any one, not even to herself, the secret of her birth. If my adversity continues, it were better for her that she live obscure and ignorant of her royal blood. I know too well what it is to wear a crown. If better days come I will recall her to myself. Nevertheless, do not, at least till after my death, let her take the veil and pronounce her vows. Adieu! dear and beloved Mary, sweet companion of my youth at the court of France; adieu! I confide to you the only precious treasure that remains to an unhappy queen. captive to her brother. A devoted friend, whom I dare not name for fear of undoing him, has promised at the risk of his life to bring you my child. Adieu! MARIA REGINA.'

On reading these papers, the bishop felt himself greatly surprised and troubled. I have made fine work,' said he. I've married to a cloth-merchant the daughter of the Queen of Scotland, and the sister of King James, who has just ascended the throne of England by the death of Queen Elizabeth. God grant no misfortune may arise out of all this! While he still examined the parchment deeds that certified Mary's birth, a page came to inform him that the abbess of the convent of Notre Dame of Soissons besought him to come immediately to her on business of the utmost importance; and the bishop hastened to comply with this message, for a peculiar presentiment told him that it concerned the secret he had just discovered. Arrived thither, he found the superior in extreme agitation, in the presence of a young nobleman, to whom she was offering the most humble testimonies of respect.

'My lord,' said she, as soon as the bishop appeared, his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales has come to inquire at our convent for a young lady who must have been brought hither thirty-five years ago. Have you any knowledge of this fact, for I cannot remember it?'

You should nevertheless remember the young lady,' interrupted the bishop, 'since, in spite of my remonstrances, you removed her from the convent, under pretext that nothing, not even the dying testimony of the former abbess, established her legitimate birth, and that she could neither take the veil in this abbey, nor remain longer in it as a boarder.'

The abbess was ready at this to sink with alarm, for the young prince, naturally of a severe physiognomy, regarded her with the utmost disapprobation.

And what,' he inquired, is become of that unfortunate person? 1?'

I received her in my house,' the bishop hastened to add, and if your royal highness will permit it, I can inform you of every thing that has happened to her; and even conduct you to her. But, as this affair is to be a secret, and if my episcopal palace is not too unworthy a lodging for the heir of England's crown

I accept your hospitality, my lord bishop; but let us be quick, for I desire to know the details of this adventure, which are to me of the greatest importance.'

Before going out, he turned to the abbess- You have many faults, madam, to reproach yourself with in all this,' said he; if you add that of revealing the secret of my name, and the motives of my visit, the King of France will punish you severely.'

During the journey, the bishop, whose litter the young prince had entered, informed him of every thing he knew of Mary, with the exception of the discovery of the parchments, for the royal guest appeared desirous to keep secret the birth of her he had come to seek at the convent of Notre-Dame.

The brow of his companion clouded, however, considerably, when he learned the marriage of Mary Stuart, still more so when he heard that her husband was a draper. He paced the room for some time, then facing the prelate, he said, 'You know then nothing more concerning this person's origin?' at the same time fixing so keen a glance upon him, that the old man hastened to bring the parchments and presented them to him. At their sight, James the First's son stamped violently, and uttered some angry words, quite sufficient to alarm his hearer.

And does she know of these papers?' About two hours only have passed since I discovered them. She is ignorant of their existence.'

The prince read them twice over, and appeared deliberating upon what he should do. At length he resolved to send for Mary, and decide upon nothing before speaking to her; he therefore bade the bishop inform her he wished to speak to her. On her arrival, the prince was astonished at her noble mien, and serene and pure beauty. He threw aside his hat, which till now he had kept on, and seeming to take a sudden resolution, bowed to her and said, Madam, I wish to ask your counsel and advice.'

*Mine, sir?' replied Mary, smiling.

'Listen; there is in a town of France, of little conse quence which, a woman of illustrious origin; or rather, we may say, perhaps of royal origin, who has become the wife of a citizen, but this marriage she contracted, ignorant that she belonged to a great family. Do you listen to me attentively?'

I listen, sir, with all my soul,' replied she, with emotion.

To-day the secret of her birth will be revealed to this woman. What think you should she do?'

Is her mother alive?' inquired Mary, with agony. 'Her mother is dead.'

Mary's eyes filled with tears.

'And her father?' added she in an indistinct voice. 'Her father merited neither her respect nor her tenderness; but he is dead also.'

'And what is proposed to this woman?'

To dissolve this alliance, which cannot be legitimate, since, when it was formed, she knew not what she was doing.'

'And what will this woman receive in exchange for the rupture of her marriage?'

A place near a throne.'

'Sir,' said she, rising, in a firm voice, I say, that should such a woman hesitate to remain with her husband, and even thought of leaving her happy obscurity, she would merit but contempt;' and, as Charles looked at her with astonishment, she continued, yes, contempt! for she would bring shame and despair on him who had not hesitated a

moment to share his fortune and his name with her when a wanderer without an asylum.'

And if, madam, this affair regarded yourself, would not your sentiments change?'

'I know it concerns myself, sir. Your words have explained the mysterious ones of the worthy abbess who brought me up. They tell me why she treated me with such respect; and why she embraced me with such despair, the day when, in the cloister, prayers were offered for the repose of the soul of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scotland.' Sir, if you are charged to reveal to me the secret of my birth, I know it; if you are come on the part of King James, my brother, to lead ine to the foot of his throne, am grateful for his pious remembrance; but I cannot accept his of fers. I will live and die the wife of the honest man who has rendered me happy so many years. There is no longer in Soissons Mary Stuart; there only remains the wife of Jehan Pastelot.'

Prince Charles hid his face in his hands, then rising, he knelt before Mary. I am your mother's grandson,' said he, I am your nephew, Prince Charles of Wales. Suffer me to kiss your hand, noblest and worthiest of creatures! I will return to London; I will faithfully inform my father of all I have heard; I will supplicate him to call your husband to his court. He who has merited such deep affec tion can be no ordinary man: my father will ennoble him, and

No,' said she, no, my lord! Jehan Pastelot is but a simple citizen; nobility, titles, and grandeur, would ill become him. My lord, let me once embrace, but once, my brother's son, and I shall have nothing to ask of God but to unite me one day to my mother in heaven-in heaven, where there are neither queens nor citizens, but blessed saints, equal in the divine mercy. Tell the king my brother, that his sister, a poor and humble merchant, will every day address prayers for him to the Almighty. Kings have greater need of them than other men-have they not, my lord?'

True,' replied the young prince gravely, 'a crown is a heavy and often a fatal burden; and perhaps it is more prudent to keep at a distance from it. Adieu, madam; I shall inform my father of what I have seen and heard: his wisdom will appreciate the generous resolution you have taken. Adieu, dear aunt.'

He kissed her affectionately on both cheeks, and was about to depart, when suddenly he returned and said, 'Before we separate, have you nothing to ask of me?' To remember me sometimes.'

Give them to my aunt.'

'A letter from my mother! Oh, let me have that? She read it with tears; then said, there is one duty I must fulfil. I shall carefully preserve this tress of hair, a precious and holy relic of my mother. But this letter, and this baptismal act, I thus dispose of." She threw them into the fire. And now, adieu to your highness the Prince of Wales.'

The prince departed, and the bishop remained alone with Mary, who pressed to her lips her mother's hair.

Jehan Pastelot,' said he, will be much surprised, and deeply grateful, when he learns your wonderful adventure and generous devotion.'

'Jehan Pastelot will never know it,' replied she.

The bishop took Mary's hand, and in respectfully kissing it, while a tear of admiration dropped upon it, said, 'You are the noblest and most amiable of women.'

We must now let many years pass, and arrive at the month of February, 1649. Mary and Jehan Pastelot, seated by a large chimney, talked gaily of days that were gone, and were respectfully listened to by a lady of about forty years old, and a maiden of rare beauty, who looked not more than nineteen: they were the daughter and grand

phenomena both of matter and mind-basely intriguing in the meanwhile for farther promotion, and writing secret letters to his Sovereign to disparage his rivals-riding proudly between the Lord High Treasurer and Lord Privy Seal, preceded by his mace-bearer and purse-bearer, and followed by a long line of nobles and judges, to be installed in the office of Lord High Chancellor-by and by, settling with his servants the account of the bribes they had received for him a little embarrassed by being obliged, out of decency, the case being so clear, to decide against the party whose money he had pocketed, but stifling the misgivings of conscience by the splendour and flattery which he now commanded-struck to the earth by the discovery of his corruption-taking to his bed and refusing sustenance-confessing the truth of the charges brought against him, and abjectly imploring mercy-nobly rallying from his disgrace, and engaging in new literary undertakings, which have added to the splendour of his name—still exhibiting a touch of his ancient vanity, and, in the midst of pecuniary embarrassments, refusing to be stripped of his feathers.Campbell's Lives of Chancellors.

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.

WINDS-USES OF THE ATMOSPHERE.

WIND is caused by the motion of air; and an inquiry into the cause of winds is resolved into an investigation of those circumstances which occasion a motion in the air. Heat is the most important agent in this matter. When air becomes heated it expands, decreases in density, and consequently ascends; the colder and denser air rushes in to possess the place which was occupied by that which has ascended; and thus two currents of air are produced. This simple fact may be satisfactorily illustrated to common observation, by the case of an ordinary room in which fire is burning. If a candle be placed at the top of the door, it will be observed that the flame is slightly blown in a direction towards the door; if the candle be then placed at the bottom of the door, the direction of the current appears contrary, and the flame becomes turned towards the fire. In the one case, the heated air, from its tendency to rise, is taking an upward course, and rushing through the opening at the top of the door; in the other, the cold air is flowing in to supply the deficiency occasioned by the ascent and egress of the heated air.

The air is also subject to great and frequent agitation from the electrical changes which take place in the atmosphere. It is generally believed, that electricity is chiefly instrumental in producing the variable and violent winds which are experienced. To understand the operation of this agent in bringing to pass the effects which we are considering, it is necessary to keep in mind, that scientific men speak of two kinds of electricity, or rather two different ways in which the same element seems to operate-the one positive, and the other negative. If a body positively electrified, come within the sphere of one negatively electrified, they attract each other; but, if their electric states be similar, that is, either both positive or both negative, they repel each other. Thus, we find an attractive and repulsive influence which produces, as in the case of heat, a twofold motion. Electricity is excited by various means-such as friction, change of temperature, and contact-and acts as a disturbing cause in producing the blasts and breezes which sweep over the earth. Having thus far endeavoured to explain the general causes of winds, we may now proceed to consider their distinctive features and causes; for this purpose, they may be appropriately divided into variable and constant. The variable winds are sufficiently accounted for by the remarks already made; and when we reflect on the inconceivable rapidity of lightning, we need not be surprised at the suddenness of those hurricanes which sometimes threaten instant and entire destruction. The trade-winds is the name given to those breezes which blow in the Atlantic between the shores of Africa and America, extending 30 deg. on each side of the equator. That in the northern part of the Atlantic is generally called the north-east, because it commonly blows from that quarter,

although it changes a little both in its direction and extent. Along the coast of Africa it is almost north-east; midway between Africa and America, it is sometimes entirely east. In winter, when the sun is south, the northern extremity of the north-east wind extends to about 27 deg. north, and its southern to 5 deg. north; and thus ranges over 22 deg. In summer, when the sun is north of the equator, its northern boundary reaches as far as 32 deg. north, and its southern to 12 deg. north, which makes it embrace a space of 20 deg. From these facts, it appears that the north-east trade-wind extends over 2 deg. more in winter than in summer. The south-cast is that which prevails south of the equator. In winter, when the sun is south, its northern boundary reaches to 1 deg. north, and its southern to 30 deg. south, which gives it an extent of 31 deg. In summer, when the sun is north, its northern edge extends to 3 deg. north, and its southern to 28 deg. south; whence it is evident that at this season also it sweeps over 31 deg. The south-east thus subjects to its sway the same extent in both seasons; and 11 deg. in summer, and 9 deg. in winter, more than the north-east. The space between the southern limit of the north-east, and the northern limit of the south-east, is the region of the calms. In winter, it extends from 1 to 5 deg., or four degrees; and in summer, from 3 to 12 deg., or nine degrees. The voyage in the line of the north-east trade-wind, from the coast of Africa to the West Indies, is described as singularly pleasant. The vessel is wafted along by a grateful breeze, at the rate of five or six knots an hour. The mariners are relaxed from their wonted toil, and undismayed by any dread of danger. During the day the air is clear and refreshing; above is the deep blue canopy of heaven, and beneath spreads out, in boundless expanse, the glassy surface of an unruffled ocean. In the evening, the silver moon shines forth with cloudless splendour; or the countless host of stars spangle the firmament, and twinkle with vivid brilliancy.

The trade-winds, as we intimated in a recent number, were discovered by Columbus, on his voyage of discovery towards the western world. His men were at first delighted with the gentle and favourable wind and the smooth sea, which allowed them to suspend their labours and enjoy the pleasures of repose and admiration. After a few days, they became quite alarmed, under an apprehension that it would continue to blow always in the same direction, and that they would never again reach home. Accordingly, they insisted on Columbus to return, before all hope of revisiting their native shores should have fled, and even absolutely refused to obey his orders unless their wishes were complied with. Columbus, at this trying moment, manifested the magnanimity which ever shone conspicuously in his character. He requested that they would consent to proceed in their course a few days longer, and promised, that, if at the expiry of that time they should not have attained the object of their wishes and pursuit, he would agree to return. Before the lapse of the specified time, they had discovered a new world, and immortalised themselves by a discovery greater than that of the trade-winds. What a beautiful instance does this afford of the success which attends the pursuit of knowledge, and how encouraging is it to the enterprising student of science! He may not always reach the height to which his ambition soars, but assuredly his noble efforts will not be unrewarded; he may, like Columbus, unexpectedly discover the track of the trades, though he may not like him also discover America.

The winds, which we are sometimes apt to view as the disturbers of the tranquillity of nature, and as the ministers of vengeance, are employed in wafting from distant countries the productions of varied climes, and form an important means of dispersing over the world its comforts and conveniencies. They also serve the necessary purpose of conveying clouds through the atmosphere, and imparting moisture and fertility to countries which otherwise would be parched by uninterrupted drought. Even the dread tornado, whose resistless sweep carries desolation in its course, is not without its use in clearing the atmosphere of pestilential effluvia, which, when the air becomes stagnant, contaminates the vital fluid, and spreads disease and death.