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the most desperate and unyielding courage, fighting to the last extremity.

The knot, goosander, golden plover, curlew, &c., begin to retire from the sea-coast or other winter haunts, to their several breedingplaces in more inland situations. The skylark, tomtit, chaffinch, song-thrush, blackbird, and some other birds, are now coming into fuller song, in consequence of milder weather and more abundant food.

The tame goose, the rook, the house-sparrow, the kingfisher, the partridge, and the tawny owl, begin to pair, and look out for suitable nestling-places.

Among the inhabitants of the waters, we find that the dace now spawns, and the salmon descends rivers to the sea.

The February carpet-moth, and the brimstone-butterfly, are to be The ditch-beetle, and the lurid pool-beetle, appear in sunny days on the surface of the water.

seen.

Several shrubs and trees now put forth their buds. The dwarfbay (daphne mezereon) unfolds its numerous lilac-coloured flowers. Shepherd's-purse, field-speedwell, lungwort, and chickweed are in

blow.

"It may be remarked," says a certain naturalist, "that mosses are now in their fullest verdure, and many of them advance to fructification, being destined, it would appear, to keep up the green tints of nature, when all other vegetation is dead or slumbering, and to protect the roots of larger plants from vicissitudes of cold, as well as of heat, and from too much moisture, as well as too great dryness. Marsh and water mosses have a tendency to produce soil, and to convert morasses into solid land, while they effect the purification of the water in which they grow, by absorbing the putrescent substances with which it may be corrupted, and by exhaling oxygen in exchange. Few mosses send roots into the soil beyond a few lines: they cannot, therefore, impoverish it so much as has been supposed. Mosses, indeed, seem, like the air-plant of India, to derive their chief nourishment from moist air; a circumstance which may account for their growing on trees, walls, and bare rocks, where there is little if any soil to support vegetation."

BRIEF ASTRONOMICAL NOTICES,
FOR FEBRUARY, 1843.

BY MR. WILLIAM ROGERSON, of the Royal Observatory, Greenwich.
"SILENT, ye troubled waves; and thou deep, Peace!'
Said the omnific Word, 'your discord end:

Nor stay'd, but, on the wings of cherubim

Uplifted, in paternal glory rode

Far into chaos, and the world unborn;

For chaos heard his voice. Him all his train

Follow'd in bright procession, to behold

Creation, and the wonders of his might,

Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:

One foot he centred, and the other turn'd
Round through the vast profundity obscure,
And said, 'Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O world!'"

MILTON.

DR. CHALMERS, speaking of the Deity, observes, "It is, indeed, a mighty evidence of the strength of his arm, that so many millions of worlds are suspended on it; but it would surely make the high attribute of his power more illustrious, if, while it expatiated at large among the suns and the systems of astronomy, it could at the very same instant, be impressing a movement and a direction on all the minuter wheels of that machinery, which is working incessantly around us. It forms a noble demonstration of his wisdom, that he gives unremitting operation to those laws which uphold the stability of this great universe; but it would go to heighten that wisdom inconceivably, if, while equal to the magnificent task of maintaining the order and harmony of the spheres, it was lavishing its inexhaustible resources on the beauties, and varieties, and arrangements, of every one scene, however humble, of every one field, however narrow, of the creation he had formed. It is a cheering evidence of the delight he takes in communicating happiness, that the whole of immensity should be so strewed with the habitations of life and of intelligence; but it would surely bring home the evidence, with a nearer and a more affecting impression, to every bosom, did we know, that at the very time his benignant regard took in the mighty circle of created beings, there was not a single family overlooked by him, and that every individual in every corner of his dominions was as effectually seen to, as if the object of an exclusive and undivided care. It is our imperfection that we cannot give our attention to more than one object at one and the same instant of time; but surely it would elevate our every idea of the perfections of God, did we know, that while his comprehensive mind could grasp the whole amplitude of nature, to the very uttermost of its boundaries, he had an attentive eye fastened on the very humblest of its objects, and pondered every thought of my heart, and noticed every footstep of my goings, and treasured up in his remembrance every turn and every movement of my history."

The SUN rises on the 1st day at Greenwich, at forty-one minutes past seven, and sets at forty-seven minutes after four: on the same day he rises at Edinburgh at one minute before eight, and sets at twenty-nine minutes after four. The sun rises at Greenwich on the 20th at seven minutes past seven, and sets at twenty-one minutes after five: on the same day he rises at Edinburgh at seventeen minutes past seven, and sets at eleven minutes after five. Though cold winterly weather attends this month, yet the bright

orb of day, increasing his diurnal arc by rising earlier and setting later, puts us in mind of the approaching spring.

The MOON sets on the 1st at twenty-two minutes past seven, and on the 3d at half-past nine in the evening: she appears halffull on the 7th, and is due south a few minutes before six in the evening: she is on the meridian on the 9th at about half-past seven, and on the 11th at half-past nine. The Moon is full on the 14th, at ten minutes past eight in the evening, at which time she appears in all her splendour in the eastern skies. This useful and interesting luminary rises on the 15th at a quarter before seven, and on the 17th at half-past nine. The Moon enters on her last quarter on the 21st, at forty-six minutes after ten in the forenoon: she rises on the 22d at about three o'clock in the morning, and on the 24th at halfpast four. The Moon is nearer to us than any of the heavenly bodies, and is much less than the Earth; for while the latter is nearly twenty-four thousand English miles in circumference, the former in circumference does not exceed sixty-six hundred miles. Her distance from the Earth is above two hundred and forty thousand miles. Those of our young readers who delight in astronomical contemplations, will be familiar with the feelings expressed in the following lines:

"Hail, beauteous planet! O how sweet to mark
Thy silver beams illume the floating clouds!
And as I pensive stray these wilds among,

My soul thy mild serenity partakes,

And owns the influence of thy genial sway.
The passing clouds that veil yon high expanse,
With stars bespangled, give me more delight
Than all the boasted monuments of art.
Mark, through the branches of yon poplar-grove,
Thy gentle rays steal softly o'er the vale,
And the mute landscape deck with shadowy tint.
At this still hour how pleasant 'tis to hear

The distant church-bells ring: how loud the sounds
Swell o'er the heath, and break upon mine ear;
But now the murmurs die upon the breeze,
And all is silent as the hour of death,
Save the faint echo of my wandering steps."

HERMIONE.

MERCURY is visible in the evenings of the first week, setting about an hour and a half after the Sun: on the 1st day he is in the neighbourhood of the crescent Moon. On the 27th, in the morning, this planet is occulted by the Moon: the immersion takes place on the bright limb, at twenty-eight minutes past six, and the emersion at the dark limb, at twenty-two minutes after seven, according to the type, No. 1, at the bottom of these Notices.

A telescope of some sort will be necessary to see this phenomenon, owing to the light of the Sun.

VENUS appears a splendid object in the mornings during this month, and cannot be mistaken, as her brightness at this time exceeds that of every other star. The best time for viewing her is about an hour and a half before sunrise, when she appears low in

the south-eastern skies. Venus is in the neighbourhood of the Moon on the 25th day, and in conjunction with Saturn on the 28th. This planet, through a telescope, at the present time, appears a crescent, like the Moon between her last quarter and change. (See figure No. 2.) The youthful reader will keep in mind that Venus, like the Moon, borrows her light from the Sun.

"Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light;

And hence the morning planet gilds her horns."

MARS exhibits his ruddy disc every clear morning: he is due south on the 1st, at twenty-six minutes past six; on the 16th at one minute before six; and on the 28th at thirty-five minutes after five. On the 21st Mars is in conjunction with the Moon.

JUPITER is too near the Sun to be seen during the revolution of this month.

SATURN appears in the mornings, towards the end of February, in the neighbourhood of the brilliant planet Venus. The Moon passes over Saturn on the morning of the 25th: the immersion takes place at the bright edge of the Moon at thirty-three minutes past six, and the emersion at the dark edge, at fifty-three minutes after seven; according to figure No. 3, below.

Note.-Saturn will be visible to the naked eye for some time before the occultation commences; but at the point of immersion, a telescope will be found to be necessary, owing to the strong twilight.

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MISS HALLIDAY, second daughter of John Halliday, Esq., was born October 22d, 1826. She was carefully trained up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord; and the influences of Christian education, on which the divine blessing evidently rested, rendered yet more lovely the amiable disposition with which it had pleased God to endow her. In her twelfth year, when at school, at Belfast, she was led to seek for herself the enjoyment of the Christian salvation. She saw that her nature was sinful, and that for all the good which her infant years had exhibited, she was indebted to the grace of God; that therefore she must, as others, enter in at the strait gate, by seeking the justifying mercy of God: that so, as in her infancy she had been by baptism introduced into the visible church, she might now "by one Spirit" be "baptized into

one body," even the true, catholic church, "the family of God," whose members are some yet on earth, others in heaven. What she sought she found. Earnestly praying in her own room, and looking to the Saviour, she was enabled to rejoice in the testimony of the divine adoption.

In December, 1837, symptoms of a severe nervous affection appeared, and she was obliged to return home. After a time she rallied, and then suffered a relapse; and though at one time she appeared to be regaining even more than her former health, appearances were deceitful. These rallies were only occasional; and eventually she sunk under the power of the fatal but insidious foe, which has brought deep and abiding mourning into so many families.

66

In December, 1839, it began to be evident that disease was now bringing her to the entrance of the valley of the shadow of death. At first, her mind was not in that calm state in which formerly it had been. But she knew the remedy, and sought its application by simple but mighty faith. "Father," she one day said, do you forgive me everything in which I may have offended you?" "I do indeed," was the prompt reply; "but I cannot recollect a single circumstance in which you have grieved me." Without noticing this latter remark, she said, "And is not my heavenly Father more willing and ready than you can possibly be to forgive me too? I will, I do, believe He is." As she said the words, she felt that the love of God was shed abroad in her heart. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, and most sweetly did she praise redeeming mercy. From this time her peace was indeed as a river. Being asked on one occasion, when it was plain that she was suffering much, whether she still rested on the Rock, she replied, with a countenance full of holy joy, "I am believing and receiving.” When free from suffering, she would earnestly exhort all who were near her to be decided in their choice of religion; and often pressed on them the necessity of attention to the cause of Christian Missions.

The last period of her life her debility was extreme, and her cough violent. But she suffered with an unruffled Christian meekness. She was sometimes scarcely able to articulate Yes, or No; but, when spoken to, replied by signs. On the 20th of March, towards evening, her mourning friends perceived the signs that the much-dreaded period was drawing nigh. But the grief was all with them. Her own joy was indeed full. With all the strength she could collect, as for a last effort, she said, "Father, I want to tell you, I am very happy: God has given me grace to bear all." These were her last words. It was her dying testimony to the sufficiency, and faithfulness, and love of Him to whom she had committed all her interests, and whose "everlasting arms" had so mercifully supported her, bearing her to the gates of death, through which her redeemed spirit had "an entrance ministered abundantly" into his "everlasting kingdom." In a few hours, about one in the morning of March 21st, 1840, she breathed her last.

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