Truly, I might have felt terror, had this singular appearance been new to me. But I had seen all before the green snake, and the crotalus, the long hanging tresses, the wild flash of that maniac eyeall before, all harmless, all innocuous-at least to me. I knew it, and had no fear.

'Haj-Ewa!' I called out, as she advanced to where I was standing.

'I-e-ela!' exclaimed she with a show of surprise. "Young Randolph! war-chief among the pale faces! You have not then forgotten poor Haj-Ewa?' 'No, Ewa, I have not. What seek you here?' 'Yourself, little mico.'

'Seek me?'

'No--I have found you.'

'And what want you with me?'

'Only to save your life-your young life, pretty mico-your fair life-your precious life-ah! precious to her, poor bird of the forest! Ah! there was one precious to me-long, long ago. Ho, ho, ho!

O why did I trust in a pale-faced lover?
Ho, ho, ho!

Why did I meet him in the wild woods' cover?

Ho, ho, ho!

Why did I list to his lying tongue,

Sun? He would consume them like a forest fire. Fear not the red men-your enemies are not of that colour.'

'Ha! not red men? What, then?' 'Some white-some yellow.'

'Nonsense, Ewa! I have never given a white man cause to be my enemy.'

Chepawnee! you are but a young fawn, whose mother has not told it of the savage beasts that roam the forest. There are wicked men who are enemies without a cause. There are some who seek your life, though you never did them wrong.'

'But who are they? And for what reason?'

'Do not ask, chepawnee ! There is not time. Enough if I tell you, you are owner of a rich plantation, where black men make the blue dye. You have a fair sister-very fair. Is she not like a beam from yonder moon? And I was fair once-so he said- Ah! it is bad to be beautiful. Ho, ho, ho! Why did I trust in a pale-faced lover? Ho, ho, ho!

Why did I meet him

'Halwuk!' she exclaimed, again suddenly breaking off the strain: 'I am mad; but I remember.

Go!

Ho, ho, ho! +

'Down, chitta mico!'‡ she cried, interrupting the strain, and addressing herself to the rattlesnake, that at my presence had protruded his head, and was making demonstrations of rage-'down, great king of the serpents! 'tis a friend, though in the garb of an enemy-quiet, or I crush your head!'

I-e-ela!' she exclaimed again, as if struck by some new thought; 'I waste time with my old songs; he is gone, he is gone! they cannot bring him back. Now, young mico, what came I for? what came I for?'

As she uttered these interrogatives, she raised her hand to her head, as if to assist her memory.

'Oh! now I remember. Halwuk.§ I lose time. You may be killed, young mico-you may be killed, and then Go! begone, begone, begone! back to the topekee. Shut yourself up; keep among your people do not stray from your blue soldiers; do not wander in the woods! Your life is in danger.'

All this was spoken in a tone of earnestness that astonished me. More than astonished, I began to feel some slight alarm, since I had not forgotten the attempted assassination of yesterday. Moreover, I knew that there were periods when this singular woman was not positively insane. She had her lucid intervals, during which she both talked and acted rationally, and often with extraordinary intelligence. This might be one of those intervals. She might be privy to some scheme against my life, and had come, as she alleged, to defeat it.

But who was my enemy or enemies? and how could she have known of their design?

In order to ascertain this, I said to her:

'I have no enemy, Ewa; why should my life be in danger?'

"I tell you, pretty mico, it is-you have enemies. I-e-ela! you do not know it?'

'I never wronged a red man in my life.' Red-did I say red man? Cooree, pretty Randolph, there is not a red man in all the land of the Seminoleé that would pluck a hair from your head. Oh! if they did, what would say the Rising

remain till some one comes.' I cannot, Ewa; I am here for a purpose; I must

'Till some one comes! halwuk! they will come soon.'

'Who?'

then the pretty doe will bleed-her poor heart will "Your enemies-they who would kill you; and bleed: she will go mad-she will be like Haj-Ewa.' 'Whom do you speak of?'

'Of- Hush! hush! hush! It is too late-they see their shadows upon the come-they come ! water!'

I looked, as Haj-Ewa pointed. Sure enough there were shadows upon the pond, just where I had seen hers. They were the figures of men-four of them. They were moving among the palm-trees, and along the ridge.

In a few seconds, the shadows disappeared. They and entered among the timber. who had been causing them had descended the slope,

6

at that moment in full possession of her intellect. 'It is too late now,' whispered the maniac, evidently You dare not go out into the open woods. They would see you-you must stay in the thicket. There!' continued she, grasping me by the wrist, and, with a powerful jerk, bringing me close to the trunk of the live oak: this is your only chance. Quick-ascend! Conceal yourself among the moss. Be silent-stir not till I return. Hinklas !'

under the shadow of the tree; and, gliding into the And so saying, my strange counsellor stepped back umbrageous covert of the grove, disappeared from my sight.

I had followed her directions, and was now ensconced upon one of the great limbs of the live oak-perfectly hidden from the eyes of any one below by festoons of the silvery tillandsia. These, hanging from branches still higher up, draped around me like a set of gauze curtains, and completely enveloped my whole body; while I myself had a view of the pond—at least, that side of it on which the moon was shining-by means of a small opening between the leaves.

At first I fancied I was playing a very ridiculous rôle. The story about enemies, and my life being in danger, might, after all, be nothing more than some crazy fancy of the poor maniac's brain. The men, whose shadows

I had seen, might be the chiefs on their return. They would reach the ground where I had appointed to meet them, and not finding me there, would go back. What kind of report should I carry to headquarters? The thing was ridiculous enough—and for me, the result might be worse than ridiculous.

Under these reflections, I felt strongly inclined to descend, and meet the men-whoever they might be -face to face.

Other reflections, however, hindered me. The chiefs were only two-there were four shadows. True, the chiefs might be accompanied by some of their followers-for better security to themselves on such a traitorous mission-but I had noticed, as the shadows were passing over the pond-and notwithstanding the rapidity with which they moved that the figures were not those of Indians. I observed no hanging drapery, nor plumes. On the contrary, I fancied there were hats upon their heads, such as are worn only by white men. It was the observation of this peculiarity that made me so ready to yield obedience to the solicitations of Haj-Ewa.

Other circumstances had not failed to impress me: the strange assertions made by the Indian womanher knowledge of events, and the odd allusions to well-known persons-the affair of yesterday: all these, commingling in my mind, had the effect of determining me to remain upon my perch, at least for some minutes longer. I might be relieved from my unpleasant position sooner than I expected.

Without motion, almost without breathing, I kept my seat, my eyes carefully watching, and ears keenly bent to catch every sound.

My suspense was brief. The acuteness of my eyes was rewarded by a sight, and my ears by a tale, that caused my flesh to creep, and the blood to run cold in my veins. In five minutes' time, I was inducted into a belief in the wickedness of the human heart, exceeding in enormity all that I had ever read or heard of.

Four demons filed before me-demons, beyond a doubt: their looks, which I noted well-their words, which I heard-their gestures, which I saw-their designs, with which I in that hour became acquainted -fully entitled them to the appellation.

They were passing around the pond. I saw their faces, one after another, as they emerged into the moonlight.

Foremost appeared the pale thin visage of Arens Ringgold; next, the sinister aquiline features of Spence; and, after him, the broad brutal face of the bully Williams.

There were four-who was the fourth?

'Am I dreaming? Do my eyes deceive me? Is it real? Is it an illusion? Are my senses gone astray -or is it only a resemblance, a counterpart? Nono-no! It is no counterpart, but the man himself!— that black curling hair, that tawny skin, the form, the gait-all, all are his. O God! it is Yellow Jake!'

DUTCH POETESSES.

THE application of a bad name to a dog is said to be equivalent to capital punishment. In the case of Holland, a whole people has suffered from the effects of an unfortunate designation. It is difficult to conceive that anything Dutch can be poetic, or that any man who is a Dutchman can be a hero of romance. It seems to be a generally admitted fact, that Holland is the country of dulness and common-place respectability, where all the women are fat and all the men are stupid, where a dike is the nearest approach to Parnassus, and where the only use of Pegasus would be to tow a trekschuit. Against Dutch books might be urged, without fear of contradiction, the charge that was formerly brought against those of Germany, 'that

they smell of groceries, of brown papers filled with greasy cakes and slices of bacon, and of fryings in frowsy back-parlours.' No wonder that there was a prejudice against German literature in days when a Schiller would have figured as 'a High-Dutch poet:' the name would have been fatal. Hollandish or Batavian would have been comparatively respectable. In the ages of erudition, when Holland was, in the words of Hallam, 'pre-eminently the literary country of Europe,' the Dutch writers were well aware of the advantage of bearing a good name. Nowhere did humble patronymics find themselves Latinised or Hellenised into greater splendour than in Holland; syllables that Fame would have been ashamed to whisper, acquired a grandeur that rendered them worthy to be bawled in her best trumpet-tones; the controversialists of the times assumed titles which bore the same relation to their original names that the classic toga bears to the gent's paletot; and even the author of a work proving that Adam and Eve talked Dutch in Paradise, inflated his simple appellation of Jan Van Gorp into Toropius Becanus.

Certainly Dutch cognomens are not remarkable for dignity. Nor is it in its proper names alone that the language is at fault; there is something ludicrous about the sound and the aspect of many of its words: only to a native eye can a Dutch sentence convey a pleasing sensation; the superfluity of r's gives it a cumbersome and lazy look: the vowels seem constantly to be jostling each other; as, for instance, in the epithet blaauwoogig-what a term to apply to the blue-eyed object of a poet's raptures!-and the frequent elision of vowels sometimes reduces a verse to little more than a row of consonants, hooked together by a series of apostrophes.

But if the language has its drawbacks, it can boast its merits also. A Dutchman is never weary of singing the praises of his native tongue-its strength, its serene majesty, its copiousness, its power of expressing the sense by the sound; its store of diminutives and terms of endearment; and of contrasting all these glories with the mean, weak poverty of the detested language of France. He might mention, as an additional merit, its likeness to our own speech, although the resemblance may remind a prejudiced Englishman of that which the monkey bears to man. Many of its words look remarkably like caricatures of ours, and every Dutch newspaper bears a certain likeness to the Fonetic Nuz.

A very ingenious theory was propounded, some years ago, by a gentleman who wrote four volumes in order to prove that all our nursery-rhymes were originally Dutch satires upon the clergy; as, for example:

Jack Sprat

Had a cat;

It had but one ear;

It went to buy butter When butter was dear.

This simple narrative is metamorphosed by Mr Bellenden Ker into the following epigram:

Jackes Praet
Huydt er guit;

'Et huydt bot wan hier;
'Et wint toe baei bot er;

Wee'n bot er! wo aes dij hier?

which he paraphrases: 'The churchman's tales, while they serve to fill the rogue's belly on the one hand, serve to pinch that of doltish cloddy on the other; they convert the cloddy-dupe into the provider of the woollen-gowned gentry (the friars),' &c.

Holland is styled 'the land of song' by its inhabitants, who have ever been greatly addicted to the habit of rhyming, and who hold a poet in high esteem. Their

literature is very rich in popular lyrics, lovingly preserved and handed down from generation to generation; and few songsters have maintained so firm a hold over the affections of posterity, as Father Jacob Cats, whose memory and whose verses are embalmed in the heart of every true Dutchman. For more than two centuries, the songs of this Franklin of Holland have been the delight of his countrymen, and to know Cats by heart is said to be necessary before the student can pretend to any knowledge of the Dutch language.

In the palmy days of Holland, the vernacular tongue was almost surrendered to the unlearned, and the literary giants of the age clothed their thoughts only in a Roman garb; but with the political decline of the state came a reaction in favour of the national tongue. In Belgium, the vernacular was fast becoming obsolete, and it seemed that French was destined to be the language of the country, when a revival of the decaying speech was commenced about the middle of the last century. This gave rise to the division between Flemish and Dutch, as the dialect of Antwerp was adopted, and became general throughout the Austrian Netherlands. For a long time it was considered unworthy the attention of literary men; but lately a band of zealous national authors, first among whom stands Hendrik Conscience, have written in it with marked success.

Holland has been peculiarly rich in authoresses. Many of its most distinguished men of letters have transmitted the flame of genius to their daughters; and from the time of Anna Byns to the present day, there has been a succession of poetesses, whose statues would fill no inconsiderable space in the Dutch Pantheon.

A work has lately been published at Amsterdam, by Mr Van der Aa, containing a selection from the poems ('Pearls') of these ladies, and may serve to correct the popular ideas concerning the women of Holland. The poetry is not of the highest order of merit; there is no great originality of conception or vigour of execution to be found in the book, through which, as in most poetry written by the gentler sex, a strain of melancholy prevails; but much of it is graceful and touching. We select a few of the shorter pieces, which may convey an idea of the works of these ladies of Holland, and may perhaps avail to sweep away a few of the prejudices that must cling around the dreadful name of Vrouw.

The following poem is by Adelaide Kleyn, authoress of Oden en Elegien and Nieuwe dichterlijke Mengelingen, who died at Leyden in 1828:

THE WATCHMAN.

Watchman! thou whose salutations
Lonely through the darkness ring,
Who in saddest tribulations

Still must force thy lips to sing

Whom, though toils by day may weary,
No sweet rest awaits at night,
Till thine eye through watchings dreary
Find the morning's rosy light:
Thou to me art Hope's revealer-
Let me keep thy duteous way,
Whether through the dusk I steal, or
Front the cheerful light of day.

I through all the wide horizon
Seek a better Fatherland,

But the seas I fix my eyes on

Hide as yet that sunny strand.

Round me, round me, creeps the gloaming,
Anxious cares upon me throng;

I, like thee, alone am roaming,
Sing, like thee, a lonely song.

But mine eye, through shadows straining, Sees where lights with shadows blend; Sees the hour of rest remaining

Steadfast for me at the end.

The verses on 'Tears' are by a lady of the name of 1828. In addition to her lyric and dramatic comVan Streek, née Brinkman, who also died in the year positions, she published a romance called Julius en

Amalie, and translated the Æneid.

TEARS.

O tears! When we are sunk in sorrow,
'Tis you that soothe us, you that bless;
You bring to those a lighted morrow
Who swoon in darkness and distress:
And they whose bleeding bosoms languish
From wounds that never cease their flow,
Find, in their own sad drops of anguish,
A tender anodyne of wo.

To every tear of mute compassion

The poor with grateful smiles reply,
And welcome, in their homely fashion,
The magic of a moistened eye.

When friends o'er some green grave are weeping,
By no funereal pomp defiled,

Their tears descend to him that's sleeping,
Pure as the kisses of a child.

Therefore, when next the dark'ning hours
To me some mournful message bring,
Flow fast, sweet tears, and give your showers
The breezy coolness of the spring!

We conclude with a few lines to Death by Albertine Rijfkogel, who died at the age of twenty years, after a long and painful illness, during which she dictated a number of simple and touching poems to her father, who published them after her death.

TO THE BROTHER OF SLEEP.

Thee Folly waits with fear: but Wisdom smiling meets thee,

And finds in thee the best, the truest of all friends; From many a couch of pain the weary sufferer greets thee,

Thy sympathising hand his term of sorrow ends. I think of thee with joy, with patient expectation, Until thy gentle touch shall lull me into rest; Come, kindly friend, subdue my heart-string's last vibration,

And lap me in soft slumber, pillowed on thy breast.

THE MONTH:

SCIENCE AND ARTS. ART has been making its usual winter-season demonstrations, perhaps with clearer purpose than heretofore. Lectures by the ablest men on art, ancient and modern-on Gothic Architecture, at the Royal Academy and at the South Kensington Museum-on Colour as applied to Architecture, at the Institute in Grosvenor Street-an Architectural Exhibition at the rooms in Suffolk Street-the Photographic Society's Exhibition at their rooms in Coventry Street, shewing unmistakable signs of progress-and Schools of Design as unmistakably flourishing-all testify to the growing interest of the people in the subject. Then we are to have a Great Exhibition memorial, and a Crimean monument, both probably in Hyde Park; and Sheffield is erecting a Crimean monument, which, in spite of the smoke, could not have a better site. It is to be sixty feet high, a handsome arched canopy finished with crockets and finials, within which, on the solid base, will be placed a sitting figure of

Victory. If we cannot be made a nation of artists by cultivation, it will clearly not be from want of endeavour.

So far as can be foreseen, a new style of architecture is not likely to be invented in the present century; and the best that architects can do is to work, with an enlightened eclecticism, upon the most beautiful of that which was produced either in the dark or classical ages, according to the building they have in hand, and conform our modern, our new buildings to it; for there is no good reason why beauty should not combine with utility. One of the ramifications of this subject has been discussed before the Society of Arts in a paper On Houseconstruction, and its bearing on Social Welfare.' As regards the wholesomeness of buildings, we notice a paper by Dr H. E. Roscoe, Professor at Owen's College, Manchester, which, though it contains little that was not already known, is nevertheless valuable as recording facts and defining principles. The paper is entitled, Some Chemical Facts respecting the Atmosphere of Dwelling-houses;' and first, we are told that the quantity of carbonic acid given off by an adult man is rather more than nineteen litres an hour, and that it is not so much the diminution of the oxygen in a room that deteriorates the air, as the charging it with foul and waste matters. The normal amount of carbonic acid in the open air is 4 parts in 10,000, and the air indoors should as much as possible be kept in the same condition. Carbonic oxide-one of the products of combustion-is immediately fatal when present in an atmosphere to the amount of 1 per cent. only. Dr Roscoe agrees with Dr Arnott that at least 20 cubic feet of fresh air are required for each person every minute, to remove all the noxious and disagreeable effluvia, especially in crowded habitations, schools, barracks, and the like. But he finds that certain natural causes operate to weaken the hurtful consequences of bad ventilation-namely, diffusion through the walls. It appears from experiment, that carbonic acid actually escapes in that way through brick and mortar, and maintains the atmosphere in something like its proper condition. Hence the unhealthiness of new damp houses, and of iron houses, through the walls of which no diffusion can take place. Emigrants and travellers, who trust in iron houses, would do well to hold this fact in remembrance.

The launch of the Leviathan has inspired an inventor with the notion of a gas-ram, simple enough in construction, but requiring demonstration. Gas is admitted into a cylinder to raise a piston by which the lift or push is to be effected.-Gas is now successfully used to heat green-houses, and with manifest advantage, as it admits of regulation with nicety to any degree of temperature. And, if the statement be true, gas is a preventive of contagion; for, according to accounts from Lisbon, the yellow fever did not visit the houses in that city which are lighted with gas.

The application of steam to agriculture is becoming more and more an accomplished fact. The Society of Arts have given an evening to 'steam-cultivation;' and sundry enterprising farmers are making trial of the 'Guideway' steam-machinery, which includes rails, whereby the trampling of the field during the ploughing is avoided. We think it probable that in the course of another ten years, steam-ploughing will be general on all our large farms-and few are small now.

Pisciculture is to have a chance in the south as well as in the north. The Regius Professor of Medicine at Oxford, jointly with Sir W. C. Trevelyan, offer a prize of L.20 to a bonâ-fide resident in the counties of Oxon or Berks, 'for the best essay on the methods of introducing and rearing fish in the waters of the Cherwell and the Isis.'

M. Menigault has made a series of experiments,

extending over several years, on wheat-on the causes which alter and deteriorate it, and the means of its preservation-which admits of practical application. He has examined the grain under every possible condition of heat, moisture, dryness, and cold, aggregation and diffusion. Among his conclusions, we find that the hygrometric condition of wheat varies 8 per cent. in an ordinary atmosphere; that, however carefully heaped, there is always one-third of empty space in the heap; that soaking in water for eight days facilitates the growth of wheat; that imprisonment in ice for six months will not destroy its vitality; that when perfectly dried, it will keep for an indefinite time; that in a temperature of 103 degrees, it is completely spoiled in a month; and that heat and damp combined are the sole causes of corruption in wheat. If precautions are taken based upon these facts, there will be nothing to fear, for instance, from insects.

Fresenius, a German chemist, has made experiments on various kinds of fruits, demonstrating which are best, and why. The more a fruit contains of soluble matter, the more is it esteemed-such as the peach and greengage.. And the more a fruit is cultivated, the more does it contain of sugar, and the less of free acid and insoluble matter. These facts may serve for household hints.-A French chemist has investigated the poisonous principle in the oleander, with a view to discover its medicinal properties. This tree grows abundantly in Algiers and in Spain. During the Peninsular War, many deaths occurred in Marshal Suchet's division from poison, owing, as was reported, to the men having roasted their meat on oleander spits at oleander fires.— Rudolf Wagner shews that a solution of decomposed salicylate of potash yields a liquor strongly charged with the scent of roses; and if this be distilled, it becomes an excellent artificial rose-water. Out of this, a new branch of industry may perhaps be created, for the substance is comparatively cheap, and rose-water is in much request as a luxury for the toilet.

The Bulletin of the Acclimation Society at Paris has an account of the quillay (Quillaga Saponaria), a tree which grows in the Cordilleras of South America, and of which the bark constitutes an important article of trade in Chili. Silks washed in water in which this bark has been macerated, preserve their colour a long time unaltered; but the principal use made of it is as a wash for the head once or twice a week. To this the women of Chili and of adjacent countries are indebted for the beauty and luxuriance of their hair; and it is said that not a few of the men make use of it also. It has, besides, a medicinal property, and is administered as a febrifuge.

A new kind of gutta-percha, and, as is said, the best, has been imported into Holland from Surinam. It is a product of a species of sapodilla which grows on the higher parts of the great savannas, and in such abundance, that for years to come the supply will be equal to the demand. The Americans have made themselves busy in that quarter of late; have surveyed a number of excellent harbours in the north of Sumatra, which were before scarcely known, and have contrived to get the principal share of the spice-trade of that island. We, on the other hand, have taken possession of the Keeling, or Cocos Islands, and find them to be a convenient half-way station between Ceylon and Western Australia. The inhabitants number about twenty European families, and a hundred Malays. Our government and that of the United States are about to send a large party to make a joint survey of the boundary-line between the British and American territory on the Pacific side of the Rocky Mountains: our own party will subsequently explore Vancouver's Island, and in

order to get the best knowledge of the country, and to benefit science, the Foreign Office has asked the Royal Society to suggest inquiries and observations, and to recommend competent persons to carry them out. And talking of explorations, we are reminded that the party which accompanies Dr Livingstone comprises his brother, a skilled economic botanist, and a mining geologist, besides an engineer for the steamlaunch, and qualified persons for other duties. They take with them an iron house, which is to be set up in the highlands at the confluence of the Kafue with the Zambesi, where land is to be cultivated, so as to become the nucleus of a permanent settlement. Hence we may hope to gain a practical knowledge of the mineral and vegetable productions of Eastern Africa. -The news from the Niger is not encouraging. Dr Baikie had lost his steamer on rocks in the river; we hear, however, that another vessel has been sent out to enable him to resume his explorations.

We mentioned, some time since, that the New Zealand government had advertised considerable money-prizes for the best samples and quantities of native flax, in the raw and dressed state. We are glad to add, that response has been made in the way desired, and that the samples sent in for competition have been forwarded by the colonial government to the Society of Arts, where they may be examined by all who are interested in the important question of fibrous materials. If carried out as it has begun, there is no doubt that the flax-trade will be as beneficial to the New Zealanders as to manufacturers in this country. One of the competitors, Baron de Thierry of Auckland, gives an interesting description of his mode of treatment: boiling and alkali alike failed to convert the plant Phormium tenax into a fit state; but he succeeded with steam, and can make flax for sale at L.15 per ton at a large profit.' He claims, moreover, to have discovered a new kind named Ti, which can be sold at L.12 a ton, and will be found applicable to the finest textures, from lace downwards.' Dundee, and some other of our manufacturing towns, will hear of this with pleasure, and with visions of profit. For their information, we quote an interesting passage from the Society's Journal. The Ti,' says the baron, 'is a tree which grows as high as twenty to thirty feet, and the flax is the product of the leaves, which are about three feet long, and from three-quarters to an inch in width. The whole tree is of a stringy nature. It is very hardy, and cuttings upwards of six inches diameter will take root in moist land. It grows in swamps where nothing else will stand; it makes an impenetrable live fence; it grows either in or out of water, and prospers on the highest hill and in the deepest gully.' Here is an element of trade and prosperity! Only get the shrewd natives, so alive to their own interests, to cultivate the Ti, and there will be no lack of flax in our markets.

As we have from time to time noted the movements of the Pitcairn islanders, we take the opportunity here to mention that Sir W. Denison, governor of Tasmania, has paid them a visit in their new home on Norfolk Island, and established a form of government for them. It is essentially democratic. On the day after Christmas-day in every year, they are to meet to elect their chief-magistrate, who must not be under the age of twenty-eight. Every man of twentyone is entitled to vote. The chaplain is intrusted with considerable powers; he is the returning-officer, and has the entire charge of education. Among the regulations for preserving the moral and physical welfare of the singularly interesting community, one is, that no beer or spirits shall be used on the island except as medicine. What will become of their old home, the lonely islet? left now to the care of Nature, or to be a resort of whalers ?

We are glad to learn that the ways and means for Mr Robert Mallet's journey to Italy were supplied out of the government grant fund administered by the Royal Society. This gentleman's name appeared in our last. We recur to the subject, because at the latest accounts the earthquake phenomena were still recurring, and he is well qualified to describe them, and judge of their geological relations. Among his credentials, he carries an encyclical letter from his eminence Cardinal Wiseman, which perhaps, more than any other, will facilitate his inquiries in country districts where the village-priest is the only man able to give information. We may hope to hear of the results in about two months.

The counter-shock of these Neapolitan earthquakes has been felt in places far distant: near the Adriatic, and onwards into Carinthia, Illyria, and the Carpathians. The general direction was north and south; but when the movement struck the Alps, lateral vibrations were sent off from east to west. Some accounts state that there are signs of upheaval along parts of the coast of Naples. In the Indian Archipelago also, and in America, great convulsions have taken place. At Payta, the results were surprising. The bay was observed to be swarming with crabs of a species rarely seen; after some days, an earthquake was felt, and a week later, there was a bank of crabs from three to four feet wide, and three feet high, thrown up all round the bay, and the water changed from a clear blue to a blackish green colour.-And in North America, as described by Professor Cook at the last meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, subsidence is going on all along the coast from Delaware Bay to Boston. In New Jersey and Long Island, the effects are especially observable. Hundreds of thousands of acres of submerged forest lie a few feet below the swampy surface, and many farms are diminished in extent by the tide flowing further over the uplands than was formerly the case. Professor Cook estimates the subsidence at two feet in a century.-Mr Leonard Horner has just read the second part of his paper on the alluvial land of Egypt, to the Royal Society. He laid on the table a piece of pottery brought to light by his researches, which he believes was made by human hands 13,000 years before the Christian era.

In connection with these phenomena, we may notice those of the weather; for the fact that half the winter quarter has passed without snow or severe frost is remarkable; and it would appear, as M. Babinet told the Academy of Sciences at Paris, that an unusual broadening of the Gulf Stream, whereby the warm water has come nearer to our shores, is the cause. Rain has been scant; and the Rhine, Danube, and Loire are lower than at any time within the present century. But then the New Yorkers, on their side of the ocean, complain that their winter is too mild; they have not been able to use their sleighs, and are uneasy about their ice-harvest. On the other hand, it has been excessively cold in Piedmont, at Malta, and other parts of the south. Perhaps our turn is to come when our north-east monsoon (for such it is) begins to blow in the spring.

The Canadian Institute are trying to organise a plan proposed by Professor Kingston of Toronto, for telegraphing the approach of storms. Twenty stations are fixed on, ranging from Halifax to Goderich in Upper Canada; and it is thought the plan may be worked at a cost of two hundred dollars a year. One of the data on which it is based is, 'that gales prevail in some localities many hours, sometimes two or three days, before they reach other places only a few hundred miles distant.' Hence half-hourly signals may be flashed along the coast of the sea and of the great lakes, and mariners may prepare for the blast, or get out of the way; and landsmen may be warned