MOUNTAIN, the curious Muse might love to gaze,
On the dim record of thy early days;
Oft fancying that she heard, like the low blast,
The sound of mighty generations past.
Here the Phoenician, as remote he sailed
Along the unknown coast, exulting hailed;
And when he saw thy rocky point aspire,
Thought on his native shores, of Aradus or Tyre.

Thou only, aged mountain, dost remain !
Stern monument, amidst the deluged plain,
And fruitless the big waves thy bulwarks beat,

The big waves slow retire, and murmur at thy feet.-BOWLES. THIS beautiful and romantic spot is situated on the southern coast of Cornwall, immediately opposite the little market town of Marazion, and about three miles and a half from Penzance. The mount itself is about 231 feet above the level of the sea, exclusive of the buildings with which it is crowned. Its singular situation and picturesque effect render it a most interesting object of curiosity; and it is calculated equally to attract the attention of the historian, awaken the researches of the naturalist, or employ the pencil of the painter. Its magnitude is seen in the most impressive point of view from its base, for when observed from a distance, its form appears trifling, amidst the vast expanse of waters with which it is surrounded.

A narrow neck of land, little more than a quarter of a mile in length, connects it with the main land: this natural causeway is passable at low water to foot-passengers and carriages, but at high tide is completely covered by the sea. The Mount is supposed by some writers to have been originally surrounded by a dense forest, and this idea is strengthened by the remains of trees having been discovered in its neighbourhood, at the time of an extraordinary high tide, as Borlase, the historian of Cornwall, relates in the fiftieth volume of the Transactions of the Royal Society, and also from its Cornish name Carakh-ludgh en laz, (The Grey Rock in the wood.)

It is supposed to be the island called Ietis by Diodorus Siculus, and other ancient authors, from which the Gauls and other nations of the continent fetched the tin, which Cornwall was known to produce,

even in those early ages. As far back as 1070 we find it the site of a priory of Benedictine monks; after the Norman Conquest, it was bestowed upon Robert Earl of Mortaigne, who made it a cell (chapel) to the Abbey of St. Michael in Normandy.

At the beginning of the fourteenth century, when the alien priories were suppressed, an exception was made in favour of St. Michael, on condition of the same tribute being paid to the English crown, as was formerly remitted to its parent abbey. In later times, when the monasteries were dissolved in the reign of Henry the Eighth, it was bestowed on Humphrey Arundel Esq. It afterwards came into the possession, by purchase, of the St. Aubyn family, to whom the buildings on the Mount at present belong. The pier, which affords protection to at least fifty sail of small vessels, being in a dilapidated state, was rebuilt in 1726 by Sir John St. Aubyn, and the small village which is built at its base was much enlarged.

It was occasionally occupied, at early periods of our history, as a military station. During the captivity of Richard Coeur de Lion in Austria, it was seized by Hugh de la Pomeroy, who expelled the monks, and fortified the place, for the purpose of favouring the meditated usurpation of the throne by Prince John. On the return of the king, Pomeroy, dreading his vengeance, fled hither from the Castle of Berry Pomeroy, and, after bequeathing a large portion of his lands to the monks, caused himself to be bled to death, after which the Priory was surrendered to the Archbishop of Canterbury.

During the wars of the Roses, a short time after the discomfiture of Edward the Fourth at Barnet, John, Earl of Oxford, arrived here by sea, and having disguised himself and some of his adherents in pilgrims' habits, obtained entrance, overpowered the garrison, and held the place against the forces of King Henry, until he obtained honourable terms of capitulation.

At the present time it is occupied as a country

seat; and, although the rooms it contains are much too small for modern habits, yet its delightful situation renders it a desirable residence during the summer months. The dining-room was formerly the refectory of the convent, and contains a curiouslycarved frieze, representing hunting subjects. It was formerly famous for a fine peal of bells, which have now entirely disappeared.

On the top of the tower, in one of the angles, is the remains of what is supposed to have been a moorstone lantern, kept, in all likelihood, by the monks, who had a tithe of the fishery, to give direction to the fishermen in dark and tempestuous weather. This is vulgarly called St. Michael's Chair, and will only admit one person to sit down in it at a

time. The ascent to it is dangerous, but it is sometimes foolishly attempted out of bravado. There is also a legend attached to it, which, in former days, was firmly relied on, and even now is not entirely disbelieved, namely, that whoever first sits in St. Michael's chair after marriage, whether the husband or wife, shall from that time forth remain the ruler in domestic affairs.

The town of Marazion, or Market-Jew, with which the mountain is in fact connected for twelve hours out of every twenty-four, must formerly have been a place of considerable importance, and originally had three market-days in a week; but, in the third or fourth year of the reign of Henry the Eighth, and also at a later period, it was nearly destroyed by the French.

The climate of this part of the Cornish coast is considered the mildest in England, and the visiter from other parts of the country will be surprised to find myrtles, hydrangeas, and fuchsias flourishing in the open air, and scarcely ever receiving any injury from the severity of the winters; on this account it has been called the Montpelier of England.

BE wondrous wary of your first comportments; get a good name, and be very tender of it afterwards: for 'tis like the Venice-glass, quickly cracked, never to be mended, though patched it may be. To this purpose, take along with you this fable. It happened that Fire, Water, and Fame went to travel together, (as you are going now;) they consulted, that if they lost one another, how they might be retrieved, and meet again. Fire said, Where you see smoke, there you shall find me. Water said, Where you see marsh, and moorish low ground, there you shall find me. But Fame said, Take heed how you lose me; for, if you do, you will run a great hazard never you lose meet me again: there's no retrieving of me.-HOWELL's Familiar Letters, 1634.

THE WING OF A BAT.

THE wing of the Bat is very commonly spoken of as a wing of leather, and the idea attached to this term, undoubtedly is, that it is composed of a callous membrane; that it is an insensible piece of stuff like the leather of a glove or of a lady's shoe; but nothing can be further from the truth. If one were to select an organ of the most exquisite delicacy and sensibility it would be the bat's wing; it is any thing but leather, and is, perhaps, the most acute organ of touch that can be found, though it is not easy to understand why it should be so. Spallanzani, a philosopher as noted for his extreme cruelty, as for his ingenuity and love of research, had observed that bats could fly with great certainty, in rooms however dark, without striking against the walls. He found that when their eyes were covered, they could fly with as much precision as before; and even when their eyes were put out, no alteration in this respect was observed. When branches of trees or threads were suspended from the ceiling they avoided them, nor did they even brush the threads as they flew past or between them; and even when the space between was too small to admit their expanded wings, they contracted the latter so as to suit their dimensions to the breadth of the passage. Spallanzani thought that the bat must possess a sixth sense. The organs of vision had been destroyed, and therefore it could not be by sight that they avoided all obstacles. In many individuals the ears were stopped, so that it could not be by hearing. In others the nostrils were stopped, so that it could not be by smelling; and taste is out of the question.

The following remarks from Cuvier are sufficiently demonstrative, I think, that it is by the acuteness of the sensation of touch in the wing, and not by any additional sense, that the phenomenon is to be accounted for. "The bones of the metacarpus, and the phalanges of the four fingers which succeed the thumb, are excessively elongated. The membrane which unites them presents an enormous surface to the air; the nerves which are distributed to it are numerous, and minutely divided; they form a network very remarkable for its fineness and the number of its anastomoses. It is probable, that in the action of flight, the air, when struck by this wing, or very sensible hand, impresses a sensation of heat, cold, mobility, and resistance on that organ, which indicates to the animal the existence or absence of obstacles which would interrupt its progress. In this manner blind men discover by their hands, and even by the skin of their faces, the proximity of a wall, door of a house, or side of a street, even without the assistance of touch, and merely by the sensation which the difference in the resistance of the air occasions. -Letters to a Young Naturalist. O. N.

CAREFULLY avoid those vices which most resemble virtue, they are the most dangerous of all vices.

HE that riseth late in the morning must be in a hurry all the day, and scarce overtake his business at night.

"SOME people act as if they deemed happiness to consist in good eating and drinking, and in an expensive and splendid way of life. I, for my part, am of opinion, that to have need of nothing is a divine perfection: hence it follows, that as there is nothing more excellent than the Deity, whatever approaches nearest to this state, is likewise most near the Supreme Excellence."-SOCRATES.

NONE are so seldom found alone, and are so soon tired of their own company, as those coxcombs who are on the best terms with themselves.-C.

The dragon and the wild beast now therein securely hide.
The "besom of destruction" o'er thee hath swept its way
In wrath, because thine impious hand, on God's Anointed lay;
Thou "Lady of the Kingdoms," Chaldea's daughter proud,
Thy gold is dim, thy music mute, and darkness now thy shroud.
Lament, ye seas, and howl, ye isles, for Tyre's virgin daughter,
Who sits a queen enthroned upon the wide far-flowing water,
Who said, "I am above all else with perfect beauty crowned,
And helm and shield in comeliness hang on my walls around;
"My merchant-princes bear the wealth of every land and clime,
The choicest things that earth can give, in sea, or air, are mine,
The vestments rich of purple dye, alone are made by me,
And kings that robe can only wear, the robe of sovereignty."
And haughty Zidon, she too stood enrobed in dazzling light,

The precious stone her covering was, with pearl and diamond bright,

The ruby and the emerald, the sapphire's glowing gem,
Blazed on her star-embroider'd vest, and on her diadem.

Thou "city of a hundred gates,” through whose folding leaves of brass,

Ten thousand men in arm'd array, from each at once might

now,

For dark, and dim, and lustreless, the jewels on thy brow,
The proud stream at thy feet rolls on, as it was wont of old,
And bears within its azure depths what time may not unfold.

The seven hills thy ancient throne, the hand of time defy,
But now the marble coronets, in broken fragments lie,
The stately arch, the pillar'd dome, the palace and the hall,
No more behold in banner'd pride, the gorgeous festival.
Thy Cæsars, and thy citizens, the emperor, and slave,
Alike rest in the silent tomb, or in the peaceful grave;
Even there thy noble ladies, in deeds of virtue bold,
And there is Messalina now, in her robe of woven gold.
And thou, beloved "JERUSALEM," tho' desolate thou art,
Thy honoured name enshrined shall be, in every Christian's
heart,

Tho' the harp of Jesse's son now lies neglected, mute, and still,

Yet Abraham's God cannot forget his own most holy hill.
The silver trumpet yet shall wake in thee a joyous sound,
Thy golden altars be once more with sweetest incense crown'd,
Yet not the blood of bulls or goats, that shall be offered there,
But the sweet incense of the heart, in notes of praise and

prayer.

The seven-branch lustre yet shall shed its rays of holy light, On every clustered capital, with sculptured traceries bright, And He whose presence dwelt between the cherubims of gold, Shall to his bright pavilion come, as he was wont of old.

For Israel's King of David's line, the Crowned, the Crucified,
Who languished in Gethsemane, and who on Calv'ry died,
Yes, He shall come, and gather in of every clime and hue,
Barbarian, Scythian, Indian, Greek; the Gentile, and the Jew.
No light of sun or moon shall then again be needed there,
Nor cooling fountains cast their floods into the balmy air,
But HE who is the light and life, in the temple-throne shall
dwell,

His brightest crown Salvation is, his name Immanuel.

And down the streets of purest gold, bright as transparent glass,

Diffusing health and happiness, o'er nations as they pass,
The everlasting streams of life, their healing waters pour,
And he who tastes those crystal floods, shall faint with thirst
no more!
Stonebrakes.
H. BROWNLEE.

SCEPTICAL modes of thinking have a direct and natural tendency to beget a captious, quibbling, sophistical habit; to create and foster literary arrogance and conceit; to destroy whatever is candid and ingenuous in controversial warfare; to make the mind diminutive, ricketty, and distorted; to induce men to set a higher value on crotchety sophisms, than on the inspirations of real wisdom and science; to make them more eager to puzzle and bewilder, than to convince and instruct; to lead them to view questions of great and acknowledged interest to their species, with coldness, apathy, and distrust; to throw a gloom and cloudipicking holes in the garment of knowledge, instead of enness over the whole mind; to cause men to take delight in deavouring to multiply its sheltering folds over their race; to mistake verbal wranglings, and snarlish disputations, as certain indications of real talent and genius; to make men slaves to ambitious singularities and mental eccentricities; and, in one word, the general and most valuable of our mental principles become paralyzed and enfeebled, by a constant habit of frivolous doubting and minute fastidiousness, as to the degree of evidence required to produce firm and rational conviction on subjects of vital importanceBLAKEY.

VERY few persons consider how early children receive their first impressions, how soon they learn to follow the tempers and manners of those about them. How important, then, must be the example of their father and mother! How naturally will the child be guided by the daily conversation, the daily conduct of its parents. How strong must be their influence on the young mind, taught to look up to them with love and respect.

THERE is no age at which we are not apt to follow the example of those around us, but it is in childhood, above of children to imitate all they see; it is by this means they all, that example exerts its greatest power. It is the nature learn so much during the first years of their life. We see that speech is taught them by imitating those around them, but we are too little aware how many of the passions and feelings we call natural, are often taught in the earliest infancy.

Ir is a great satisfaction to me that my daughters will be educated well, and taught to depend upon themselves for their happiness in this world: for if their hearts be good, they have both of them heads wise enough to distinguish between right and wrong. While they have resolution to follow what their hearts dictate, they may be uneasy under the adventitious misfortunes which may happen to them, but never unhappy; for they will still have the consolation of a virtuous mind to resort to. I am most afraid of outward adornment being made a principal study, and the furniture within being rubbish. What they call fashionable accomplishment, is but too often teaching poor Misses to look bold and forward, in spite of a natural disposition to gentleness and virtue.-LORD COLLINGWOOD.

HE that at midnight, when the very abourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have often done, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of the nightingale's voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music upon earth.-IZAAK WALTON.

FAMILIAR ILLUSTRATIONS OF EXPERI

MENTAL SCIENCE.

No. III. DIVISIBILITY OF MATTER. ALL material substances may be divided into two general classes,—simple and compound. A simple substance retains its original character, under every variety of form it may assume, whether solid, liquid, or aëriform. It corresponds, in this respect, with the description we have already given of an element. A compound substance consists of two or more simple or elementary substances, held together by certain laws of affinity or attraction, and presenting properties essentially different from those possessed by either of the simple bodies when in its separate state. The number of simple substances at present known is fifty-three, of which five only are found capable of combining with all the others. By a series of combinations that, in number, far exceed our limited comprehension, these fifty-three elementary bodies constitute all that is known to us amidst the wonders of creation.

In our last paper, alluding to the changes going on around us, we remarked that, notwithstanding the apparent waste and dissipation to which every substance, animate and inanimate, is. by a wise ordination of Providence, subjected, nothing is really lost or destroyed. These mutations of form and of character result from the most complete separation of the particles of matter of any with which we are acquainted; implying the reduction of compound bodies to their elements, which elements assist in constructing new substances, whose round of duty being performed, they become, in their turn, liable to the same immutable law of decay and reproduction.

The minuteness of division necessary to these transformations may, very properly, be termed elementary. The elementary division of matter not only extends beyond the range of our visual organs, but it exceeds the most laborious stretch of our imagination. We will endeavour to illustrate this subject by a reference to some instances of the extreme divisibility of matter, by a process that may be denominated

mechanical.

Although we possess no means whereby to render visible to our senses the form, size, colour, weight, and other peculiarities of an ultimate particle of matter in its separate state, we justly conclude that matter is incapable of division or diminution beyond certain limits; consequently, that each particle is endowed with some specific characteristic, and that the quantities of the particles of matter are as various and as dissimilar as those exhibited by the simple bodies they compose.

1

1000

Gold affords a remarkable proof of the minute mechanical division of which a solid body is susceptible. In the form of gold-leaf it may be beaten so thin, that fifty square inches weigh only one grain *. By the aid of a magnifying-glass the th (one thousandth) part of an inch may be distinctly seen. A square inch of gold-leaf may, therefore, be divided into 1,000,000 (one million) equal parts, each of which, weighing 50,000,000th (one fifty millionth) of a grain, will be distinguishable by the eye. On silverwire gold is reduced much thinner than it is in the state of leaf. It has been shown by an eminent French philosopher (Réaumur), that one grain of gold, of the thinness which it is upon silver-wire, will cover an area of 1400 square inches. Dividing the square inch, as in the former case, into 1,000,000 (one million) equal parts, it follows that a piece of

There are 5760 grains in a pound (Troy) of gold.—An avoirdupois pound is equal to 7000 grains.

gold, effectually covering silver-wire, and weighing only 1,400,000,000th (one fourteen hundred millionth) of a grain may be seen by the aid of a common magnifier.

Small and insignificant as the fourteen hundred millionth of a grain of gold may appear, it is, comparatively, a rough fragment of the metal, consisting, probably, of many thousands of its ultimate particles. The most perfect state of separation to which we can subject a metallic body is that of vaporization. To detach a single particle of vapour, weigh it, and measure it, is a process too refined and compli cated for man to perform, notwithstanding the aids with which science has supplied him. In the focus of a burning-glass, the heat of which far exceeds that of a furnace, gold has not only melted, but vaporized. This fact was attested by a piece of silver, placed at some distance above it, being gilded by the condensation of the vapour of gold upon its surface.

When a solid body, as salt, is dissolved in water, we have an instance of the minute separation of its particles. By evaporating some of the solution, the quantity of salt recovered will be proportionate to its diffusion throughout the mass. On this principle it is that common salt is obtained from sea-water. Spring-water generally holds in solution great quantities of earthy matter, especially carbonate of lime. By a very simple process, that we shall, in some future paper, describe, the lime may be separated from the water, and deposited at the bottom of the vessel that contains it, in the form of an impalpable white powder. Under ordinary circumstances the lime, thus dissolved in water, is so finely divided, that it passes readily through the most perfect filters that have ever been invented, imparting not the slightest trace of turbidity to the liquid. Its presence may be detected by sprinkling a few drops of the water on a piece of clean glass; when the water has evaporated, the lime will remain, communicating a faint white stain to the surface of the glass.

In the evaporation of water, and other liquids, we have an example of the minute separation of those bodies. The vapour of water at a certain temperature is invisible, and perfectly dry. It becomes visible, and imparts moisture, only when in a state of transition from the vaporous to the liquid form. The vapour of ether may be poured, like water, from one vessel to another, without being seen by the operator.

The diffusion of odours through the atmosphere may be noticed in illustration of the divisibility of matter. These odours may be either agreeable or offensive; emanating from solids or liquids, or a mixture of both, and dependent on certain conditions annexed to the products of the animal, vege→ table, and mineral kingdoms.

In many of the inferior animals, the sense of smelling is more refined than in the human species. Beasts of prey seem to be guided by the intimations received through their olfactory organs to the haunts of such animals as are adapted for their sustenance. In some particular species of birds the senses of sight and smell are eminently acute. Fish also are attracted by the odours exhaled from particular substances, as is well known to anglers. Sharks will follow a ship for many successive days, when any of the crew happen to be sick. We are not without satisfactory evidence, that insects, in searching for their food, or proper recipients for their eggs, are stimulated at considerable distances, by impressions made upon organs corresponding with those of smell in animals. In all the cases we have cited, the impressions must necessarily be dependent on actual contact with minute portions of the respective substances.