bility, the subjects of which gladly would, if they could, be off their bargain: having given their health for their wealth, they find that they have given the substance for the shadow, and that a great price will not restore that inestimable blessing. Added to these, how many are the sad cases of mental alienation arising from the same cause, a miserly withholding the energies and intellect from every thing but what is written in the great books of pounds, shillings, and pence. That man is wise, who, though he pursues his calling faithfully and zealously, yet when nature, exhausted and jaded, requires rest and refreshment, can leave his cares in his counting-house, and in the garden or the fields learn the lesson the lily or the raven can teach, Matt. vi. 26-28; who, remembering his heavenly origin, and his immortal destiny, daily exercises his faculties in observing the works of God around him, and in cultivating intercourse with their great Author. Such an one, however the avaricious may accuse him of throwing away his time, is incomparably better qualified for the discharge of his duties, and will be better able to sustain those changes of circumstances to which all are liable. May we offer a hint to our fair friends? The beauties of creation are designed for your enjoyment. The invigorating breezes, or the cheering sun-beam, the melody of birds, the opening blossom, painted and perfumed with inimitable skill, the rising hill, the venerable wood, the rippling stream, conspire to allure your feet into the fresh air. Ah! but there are counter attractions in the city or town; the rich display in the mercer's shop, the morning calls, the "see and be seen" promenade, with a long list of other suitors for your favour. What hope of success then have the claims of nature? But, come, give her at least her turn. If you are now intending to pay the mercer an unnecessary call, change your intention, and try the fields, if circumstances will allow; and perhaps in your ramble such a morning call may be made as you will not soon forget. In the cottages of the peasantry, pinching poverty and sickness are often wringing the heart of the inmates; there is a call for sympathy. Of all the many claims upon you, consider well which are the most le gitimate and imperative; you cannot answer all; some tend to ensnare your hearts, others to enlarge and expand them; some engender selfishness and pride, others benevolence and lovely humility. There is a school in which you may learn the ways of the world, and a school in which you may learn the ways of God: be invited then to study his works and his ways. As the seasons revolve and bring their objects of admiration, be you attentive observers of them; and in your attempts to do this profitably, we hope to render you some assistance. BOTANY Is a branch of science relating to a knowledge of the vegetable kingdom. It may be divided into 1. CHEMICAL, or a knowledge of the properties of different plants, whether nutritious as food; medicinal; useful in the arts, as indigo, bark, &c., and poisonous. This branch, therefore, teaches us how to appreciate the different species. 2. SYSTEMATIC, by which is secured the discrimination or recognition of a plant; without this ability a knowledge of the properties of plants would be of little or no. use. For want of this knowledge, individuals have lost their lives by mistaking noxious and poisonous plants for wholesome herbs; and others have administered what they thought to be salutary and restoring medicines, which have proved to be deadly poison. 3. PRACTICAL. This includes cultivating, or bringing to the highest perfection, whatever is useful or desirable. Gardening, farming, and planting, are branches of practical botany. 4. PHYSIOLOGICAL, or ANATOMICAL, by which is intended the internal structure and the general economy of vegetables, the nature of their tubes and vessels, manner of growth, &c. The first branch, it will appear, is work for the laboratory, and belongs more properly to men possessed of chemical knowledge and other requisites for experiment. Yet this branch, as far as known, will be incidentally acquired in the study of the systematic part, and will afford considerable interest. The second is that on which we intend to enlarge in subsequent numbers. The third will come only incidentally under our notice at present. The fourth part, physiological, will be menes, that, being thrown for dead into occasionally alluded to; it is highly in- | the search there. It is related of Aristoteresting, but difficult in many points, and even by the first professors of the present day imperfectly understood. Some young persons anticipate difficulty in the hard and outlandish names that are made use of in botany; but let them remember that botany is not the study of names, but of an admirable branch of natural economy; and a hard name does not necessarily imply that the thing so is hard to be understood. The word "law" is an easy word to speak and to remember, but the study of law is by no means a simple process. We remember to have heard of a gentleman, who, when spring-guns became illegal, in order to protect his garden, had this inscription placed on a board, "Terrofiokaibloudomenoi set on these premises." Now the word has no meaning, but the awful length and mysterious appearance of it intimidated some who might have been disposed to enter his premises! The reason why the Latin and Greek languages are employed in this and some other sciences is, that the same appellatives of plants may be recognised by students of different nations, and that they may be able to read the works written upon these subjects without the trouble and expense of translating and printing in a variety of languages. Wherever it is necessary for the student to acquire a difficult name, it may be learned and remembered by merely writing it over two or three times. Our next number will contain a table of the classification of Linnæus, and a familiar description of the vegetation of the season. PROVIDENTIAL INTERPOSITIONS. THE goodness or mercy of God is seen when it interposes for the help of man. The ravens, in a time of famine, bring Elijah bread and flesh, 1 Kings xvii. 6. The story is known how Du Moulin, during the massacre of the Huguenots, in Paris, was cherished for a fortnight by a hen, which came constantly and laid her eggs where he was concealed. Also, how at Calais, an Englishman, who crept into a hole under a staircase, was there preserved by means of a spider, which had woven its web over the hole, and so the soldiers slighted DIVINE ORIGIN OF ALPHABETICAL Ir is extremely probable that, previous to the giving of the ten commandments, Moses was only acquainted with the hieroglyphic mode of writing, which he must have learned in Egypt; but partly in order to discountenance image-worship, and partly with a view to give facility to the transmission of the truths of Divine revelation, God furnished him, on this occasion, with an important specimen how to compose in it the other laws and of alphabetical Scripture, and taught him ordinances which he revealed to him. At all events, it is certain, we possess no accounts from antiquity which go to show that letters were invented prior to the time of the Jewish legislator; while the concurrent testimony of ancient writers, referring their introduction to some period near to that in which he flourished, corroborates the opinion so naturally suggested by the sacred narrative, that they were of Divine origin.— Dr. Henderson. HOLY GRIEF. GRIEVE for nothing in this world so much as for your own sins; and in them for nothing so much as for offending the God of love, and that not only in committing evil, but also in omitting good, THE PERAMBULATOR. WARWICKSHIRE RAMBLES. Ir is very sweet to ramble in country places, especially if you have been a long time confined to the city or town; for then the sun appears brighter, the trees greener, and the breeze more balmy and refreshing. When the heart is rightly toned, it is, as it were, a full cup of thankfulness, which the sight of country scenes makes to run over with praise to the Father of mercies, for the blessings he has so bountifully scattered in our paths. It may be, that the reader of these remarks may be well acquainted with the fair fields, the fine homesteads, and the beautiful oaks and elms of Warwickshire; he may have wandered, as I did last summer, through the attractive scenery in the neighbourhood of Leamington, and visited the villages around; but if so, he will not, perhaps, object to a retrospective glance, he will not refuse this friendly invitation, to share the company and the converse of the Perambulator. If you are a stranger to the neighbourhood about Leamington, I hope you will not always remain so. Go to the place in the season of summer, for it will abundantly repay you. Wander through the by-paths and bridle roads, the upland slopes, the woods, and cool meadows, but go not alone! Secure, if you can, the advantage of a kind and christian-hearted friend, fond of rural and retired scenery. With him visit the shadowy nooks, rest on the stiles, and shelter beneath the umbrageous branches of the wide-spreading oak, and when you come to the rippling brook, pause awhile on the stepping stones, and muse on the rippling waters as they win their way over the pebbly shallows. Let it be an unbending hour of tranquil recreation; mark the glittering bubbles, that, like earthly expectations, shine so brightly one moment, and burst the next. Tear up a little paper, casting the fragments on the stream, that you may muse on man as a mariner, sailing down the current of time, and moralize especially on your own little bark, beset with many dangers. It may be that the young dragon-flies, with their network wings, and long slender bodies, may fit rapidly over the surface of the stream, settling now and then on the tops of the rushes; or the humble-bee may pursue his busy course, humming aloud while on the wing, but suspending his monotonous song, if song it may be called, the moment he alights upon a flower; or the butterfly may flutter up and down in the air with a companion, banqueting on pleasure in the sunny beams. It is pleasant to describe objects while they are visible to us, but being now at a distance from the places which have called forth my present remarks, I must trust to a memory tolerably tenacious with regard to pleasant impressions, to assist me in the sketches of my pen. Much of the Warwickshire scenery is of that cool, verdant, quiet, and secluded kind, which presents itself to the mind of the biblical reader, when he ponders on the twenty-third psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters." It is of a cast calculated to minister to the mind's tranquillity, as well as to that of the body. There are no cloudcapped altitudes and fearful precipices to awe the spirit; no rushing floods and thundering cataracts to excite astonishment and terror. The character of the place is that of repose. Every Leamington visitor, as a matter of course, frequents the libraries, the pump-room, and the different spas; drinks the waters, takes the baths, rambles in the pleasure-grounds, listens to the band, and gazes on the company. But it is not of these things that I purpose to speak. Nor have I time to describe that princely pile, Warwick Castle, though the pleasant remembrance of it tempts me to step aside for a moment, to gaze again on its goodly towers, and its picturesque approaches cut through the solid rock, and fancifully adorned with ivy lichens and hanging plants. The capacious hall is at this moment before me, with the enormous antlers and ancient armour that decorate its walls. The pictures, by Holbein, Rubens, and Vandyke, Poussin, Guido, Teniers, Murillo, and Salvator Rosa, are not forgotten; nor the oak floors, bright and slippery; nor the cedar chamber; nor the high-testered damask-curtained bed of Queen Anne. In imagination I am gazing from one of the projecting windows, on the broad sweeping branches of the towering cedars, the ruins of the old bridge, the sparkling water-wheel, and the clear D ripple of the running waters. I have walked with my friends across the extended lawn, and through the gardens, admired the giant geraniums in the green-house, and stand, even now, beneath the ancient bacchanalian vase, in discussion with a talented Italian, while the impatient gardener clanks his keys, to remind us it is time to depart. But we will bid adieu to the castle, its stupendous towers and embattled walls, and leave the porter in the lodge to astonish the gaping group around him with an exhibition of the armour, prong, tooth-pick, and porridge-pot of the renowned Guy. Scenes of a striking character that we have gazed on alone, frequently impress us deeply; but when associated with kind friends, and affectionate remembrances, they are graven in our hearts for ever. Having spoken of a castle still in its glory, let me glance at one in its desolation. If Warwick Castle has its attractions, so has the venerable pile of Kenilworth, though they are somewhat of a mournful kind. "If thou would'st see fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight." And so may it be said of Kenilworth. I have visited the place in company, and mused there alone, both at the midday and midnight hour; when the sun has lit up the extended ruin, and when the moon-beam has silvered its grey turrets and roofless halls. Where are the wonted inmates of these walls? That oft have flitted through the festive dance; The tongue that told, the ear that drank the strain Of love's inebriating melody? Long have they moulder'd in the dust of death! Illustrious ruin! hoary Kenilworth! I view thy noble relics with a sigh; Thy grandeur and thy greatness are departed; Thy tenants have forsaken thee, and hid Their faces in the dust, and thou art left A mouldering monument whereon I read, Not only their mortality, but mine. I must leave it for another to talk learnedly about the date of the castle, of Geoffry de Clinton, and the monastery of black canons. The princely pleasures of Kenilworth, and the protracted revel given to Elizabeth, must be passed by; but go when you have the opportunity, and gaze on this hoary monument of former greatness, for it is calculated to call forth salutary reflection. It is a fit place for a perambulator to muse in. When I was last there, the sun shone brightly, and two beautiful dogs were bounding in playful antics, importunate, at times, to share the repast spread on the green turf. A goodly group were seated around me, spellbound by the piece that I was reading aloud, "The false hopes of childhood." Many a year had rolled away, many a glad and glowing season had passed by since we had met together, but enough :E'en now the noontide glittering sun May gild that drear domain, But the goodly group of friends are gone- Not soon shall I forget my emotions when crossing a large field on my way to Guy's Cliff. The buoyancy of spirit, and lightness of limb communicated by fresh air, are delightful. Like a stripling I bounded over the iron hurdles which divide the enclosure, with the elasticity of a roe. I felt as one swift of foot, ready to run a race; as a strong bowman, about to cleave the air with a vigorous shaft; as a valorous soldier in a right quarrel, battle's bulwark in the narrow way." the Oh what an unspeakable blessing is the breeze of heaven, falling on the fevered brow of one long cooped up in the densely populated city! I drew long breaths for the mere delight of inhaling the grateful, the balmy, the invigorating air, and gazed around with intense delight on the kindling skies, and the blooming earth. Tell me not that a thrilling susceptibility to the beauties of creation is mere romance; my heart tells me otherwise. It is not adoration, it is not devotion, but when the kindling skies, and the blooming fields, are felt to be His gifts, who gave us all things, even his own Son, to die for our transgressions, a keen conception of the beauty with which he has clothed his "lowliest works," does excite a livelier thankfulness and a warmer praise. Nor is a high tone of rural enjoyment inconsistent with a lowly estimate of ourselves before Him who has so gloriously adorned the flower, the green herb, and the tender grass. The very magnitude of the gifts of God is calculated to impress the humble heart with its own littleness, so that while it praises God for his goodness, it is ever ready to say, "What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him ?" The green grass of the extended meadow was grateful to gaze on, the giant oaks spreading their strong arms far and wide, and the towering elms adorned with thick masses of verdure, feathering off into the lightest texture, were goodly spectacles. On the top of a hedge grew a wild rose, it was truly beautiful; fairer far than those around it. I attempted somewhat rudely to pluck the lovely floweret, but it sprung back disdainfully to its pride of place, leaving a blossomless spray in my hand. I made a reckless plunge, my handkerchief was rent, and a thorn buried itself in my finger; but I won the lovely flower, and wore it in my bosom. At seasons such as this, we are disposed to pity splendour. What has grandeur and cold-hearted etiquette to offer to a buoyant spirit, revelling in rural enjoyment, and in perfect freedom from restraint! In a ramble towards Guy's Cliff, a place celebrated for its solitary grandeur and romantic associations, I had three young persons around me; one moment the little girl was in my arms, and in another her two brothers engaged my attention. Before we came to the water-wheels at the mill, the eldest of the three, a fine, free-hearted boy of nine or ten years, asked me if it was cruel to fish. This was a plain question, but not knowing the views of his parents on this subject, and being unwilling to trespass on the opinions they might have expressed, I would willingly have evaded the inquiry; but young people are not easily shaken off when they make an attack of this kind. The question was repeated. "Is it cruel to fish ?" said he, somewhat impatiently, when he perceived that he had no straightforward reply. As no better argument struck me than the one commonly used on such occasions, I had recourse to it. "Do you think," said I, "that it would be cruel to stick a large hook through you, and pitch you into the water, and fish with you?" He thought it would be very cruel. Why, then,' added I, "it must be cruel to serve the worm so, unless you can prove that he has no feeling, for God made him as well as you; you are both God's creatures, and no one has a right needlessly to injure either of you." I saw that he was puzzled, and went on thus: "God has given us dominion over the fish, and the fowl, and the cattle for our use, and not for their abuse: the farmer destroys the birds on his cornfields, and the fisherman casts his net in the river, because we have a right to destroy the inferior creatures whenever they annoy us, or when they are required for food; but when you fish, you do it for pleasure only. Now we cannot give unnecessary pain without being cruel. If it be necessary to take away the life of any creature, it should be done without tormenting it; but if not necessary, "Destroy it not, for all things ought to live, Take not away the life thou can'st not give." The conversation here came to an end, but though my little friend was evidently puzzled, I did not read in his countenance any determination to cast aside his fishing rod. Had Izaak Walton been at my elbow, doubtless with a meek spirit he would have reproved me, and set in array the peaceful seasons, the calm repose, and the profitable contemplations of his brothers of the angle; but though the meekminded old man could feel for the finny tribe, though he could handle a worm tenderly, and treat him as a friend, I question much if the floundering fish and writhing reptile suffered a whit the less for his sympathy. Those who visit Guy's Cliff should turn along the path to Milverton Church; for though the pile, with its wooden tower, has but little to recommend it, the green hillocks in the retired churchyard are more impressive than the crowded memorials of a city cemetery. The spot is a secluded one, and the elm trees around it give it a character of rural repose. I went there alone, and in company. I stood in silence in that treasure-house of death, while a fond and bereaved parent bent and bowed down over the restingplace of a beloved child. To her the spot was doubly dear, and to any one reproaching it as a gloomy one her spirit would have replied,— O passing stranger, call this not I love to linger o'er the spot It is my baby's tomb. Here morning sunbeams brightly glow; My slumbering babe reclines. His little waxen rosy face, I know will soon decay; |