gitude and latitude, he put it down in his chart as nearly as he could estimate with his eye. Two days afterwards, the star disappeared; but he perceived another which he had not seen before, resembling the first in size and colour, and situated a little to the south-west of its place. He observed it again on the 5th of September, and, finding that it had moved a little farther to the south-west, he concluded that this star belonged to the planetary system. The planet Juno is of a reddish colour, and is free from that nebulosity which surrounds Pallas: it is situated between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, like the others just described. Its diameter is less, and its distance greater, than those of the other new planets. It is distinguished from all the other new planets, by the great eccentricity of its orbit; and the effect of this is so very sensible, that it passes over that half of its orbit which is bisected by its perihelion in half the time that it employs in describing the other half, which is farther from the Sun. From the same cause, its greatest distance from the Sun is double the least distance, the difference between the two distances being about 127 millions of miles. Its mean distance from the Sun is 275,000,000 English miles,

It was a century and half ago conjectured that there must be a planet between the orbits of Jupiter and Mars, on account of the distance subsisting between those two planets. The discovery of Ceres confirmed this happy conjecture; but the opinion which it seemed to establish respecting the harmony of the solar system, appeared to be completely overturned by the discovery of Pallas and Juno. Dr. Olbers, willing to find a theory that should account for the facts newly ascertained, imagined that these small celestial bodies were merely the fragment of a larger planet, which had been burst asunder by some internal convulsion, and that several more might be yet discovered between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter. He therefore concluded, that though the orbits of

all these fragments might be differently inclined to the ecliptic, yet, as they must have all diverged from the same point, they ought to have two common points of re-union, or two nodes in opposite regions of the heavens, through which all the planetary fragments must sooner or later pass. One of these nodes Dr. Olbers found to be in Virgo, and the other in the Whale; and it was actually in the latter of these regions that Mr. Harding discovered the planet Juno. With the intention, therefore, of detecting other fragments of the supposed planet, Dr. Olbers examined, thrice every year, all the little stars in the opposite constellations of the Virgin and the Whale, till his labours were crowned with success on the 29th of March 1807, by the discovery of a new planet in the constellation of Virgo, to which he gave the name of Vesta.

As soon as this discovery was made known in England, the planet was observed at Blackheath on the 26th of April 1807, by Mr. Groombridge, an active astronomer, who continued to observe it with an excellent astronomical circle till the 20th of May, when, from its having ceased to become visible on the meridian, he had recourse to other instruments. He resumed his meridional observations in the month of August, and had the good fortune, on the 8th of September, to observe the ecliptic opposition of the planet.

The planet Vesta is of the 5th or 6th magnitude, and may be seen in a clear evening by the naked eye. Its light is more intense, pure, and white, than any of the other three. It is not surrounded with any nebulosity, and has no visible disk. The orbit of Vesta cuts the orbits of Pallas, but not in the same place where it is cut by that of Ceres. According to the observations of Schroeter, the apparent diameter of Vesta is only one-half of what he found to be the apparent diameter of the 4th satellite of Saturn; and, yet, it is very remarkable that its light was so intense,

that Mr. Schroeter saw it several times with the naked eye. The period of its revolution about the Sun is 1 year and 66 days.

We shall resume this subject in the next month's observations.

The Naturalist's Diary.

Now sober Autumn, with lack lustre eye,
Shakes with a chiding blast the yellow leaf,
And hears the woodman's song

And early sportsman's foot.

EACH season of the revolving year produces a variety of picturesque appearances peculiar to itself. The emotions which affect the mind, while it contemplates scenes which every month contributes to diversify, must, consequently, he of various kinds, all suitable to the season. The vivid beauties of spring, the glowing skies of summer, the fading scenes of autumn, and the dreary aspect of winter, excite, respectively, vivacity, languor, solemnity, or dejection. Summer, refulgent child of the Sun,' has retired with his ardent look' from our northern regions, and each gaudy flower disappears. Rural scenery, however, is much enlivened by the variety of colours, some lively and beautiful, which are assumed, towards the end of the month, by the fading leaves of trees and shrubs.

How sweetly pleasing to behold

Forests of vegetable gold!

How mixed the many chequered shades between
The tawny mellowing hue, and the gay vivid green!

FAWKES.

Partridges (tetrao perdix) are in great plenty at this season of the year: they are chiefly found in temperate climates, but no where in such abundance as

in England. Partridges pair early in the spring: about the month of May, the female lays from fourteen to eighteen or twenty eggs, making her nest of dry leaves or grass upon the ground. The young birds learn to run as soon as hatched, frequently encumbered with part of the shell sticking to them ; and picking up slugs, grain, ants, &c'. While the corn is standing they have a secure retreat from their numerous enemies; but when the harvest is gathered in, they resort, in the daytime, to groves and covers. At night, however, they return to the stubble to avoid foxes, weasels, &c. and there nestle together. From man they have no means of escape; for they are traced to their hiding-places by pointers, and are often inclosed in nets, and taken by whole coveys.

The shooting of partridges is well described in the following lively sketch:

'We now proceed beating each field with unrelaxing diligence: we try swathe oats or wheat, or barley stubble, then look the clover; or turnips are more likely in that, each piece of land we enter gives fresh hopes we are sure they must be there; but having beat this field and that, in vain, we have a better founded hope of finding in the next adjoining. Nor does expectation droop beneath repeated disappointment. At length the dogs are certain in the turnips, and we approach with ardour heightened by delay; the dogs stand immoveable as blocks of stone, and the heart beats with rapture at the approaching

moment:

In his mid career, the spaniel struck
Stiff by the tainted gale, with open nose,
Outstretched, and finely sensible, draws full,
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey;

1 It is no uncommon thing to introduce partridges' eggs under the common hen, who hatches and rears then as her own; in this case the young birds require to be fed with ants' eggs, which are their favourite food, and without which it is almost impossible to bring them up; they likewise cat insects, and, when full grown, feed on all kinds of grain and young plants.

As in the sun the circling covey bask

Their varied plumes, and, watchful every way,
Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye.

A partridge now rises with a rustling noise, and spreads its wings: my well-aimed gun quickly stops him in his flight, and kills him on the spot. This is the moment which a novice in the field would think the highest pitch of joy; but he is mistaken: the pleasure ceases with the victory; the lifeless animal is negligently thrown into the bag, and all the eagerness of hasty charging is repeated, lest other birds should rise while I am unprepared.'

pe

The affection of the partridge for her young is culiarly strong and lively. She is greatly assisted in the care of rearing them by her mate: they lead them out in common, call them together, point out to them their proper food, and assist them in finding it by scratching the ground with their feet; they frequently sit close by each other, covering the chickens with their wings like the hen. In this situation, they are not easily flushed; and the sportsman, who is attentive to the preservation of his game, will carefully avoid giving any disturbance to a scene so truly interesting. Should the pointer, however, come too near, or unfortunately run in upon them, there are few who are ignorant of the confusion that follows. The male first gives the signal of alarm by a peculiar cry of distress, throwing himself, at the same moment, more immediately into the way of danger, in order to deceive or mislead the enemy; he flies, or rather runs, along the ground, hanging his wings, and exhibiting every symptom of debility, in order to decoy the dog to a distance from the covey: the female flies off in a contrary direction, and to a greater distance, but, returning soon after by secret ways, she finds her scattered brood closely squatted among the grass; and, collecting them in haste, she leads them from the danger, before the dog has had time to return from his pursuit.