then there was a perfect calm for a time, holy, pure, and exciting in its peacefulness, so different from the tumult which preceded and succeeded it. The scene is stamped upon my mind still, and will probably never be effaced. trees, and appeared to be perfectly safe-all but one, who had still a leg within reach of the monster's trunk when he reached the tree in which the unfortunate man, paralysed by fear, no doubt, was climbing. To the others who surrounded him, and to us from But I have not yet mentioned the most the brow of the neighboring hill, it appeared exquisite of all the scenes of that bright that the man was sufficiently high in the tree evening. It was love that lent its charm to to prevent his being caught and dragged the whole! I was the witness of the happi- down by the infuriated animal. Whether he ness of two noble specimens of our race. I was so caught, however, or was only struck had never seen the lady otherwise than with and fell through excessive fear, certain it is her husband; and therefore I looked upon we saw him fall backwards on the uplifted their love and relationship as a natural thing, head of the elephant! In a moment the which did not interfere with me; and which, body of the unfortunate man was whirling if wise, I too could (afar off) participate in, high in the air, and at length descended with or at all events sympathise with. When I a frightful thump upon the ground, only to saw her face shining in the pale moonbeams, be trampled immediately afterwards into a her sparkling eyes and black hair (contrast- shapeless mass! His success in this instance, ing vividly with the pure whiteness of her which was all the work of a moment or two, brow, and of her neck), and whilst I felt her appeared but to increase the savage fury of warm hand resting on my thinly covered the monster. He rushed at the tree nearest arm, I looked upon her as I looked upon to him, into which two of the little band had the landscape. She was an object of loveli- climbed, his broad forehead coming with ness, on which my eyes might feast, and thundering force upon the trunk, and shaking which memory might treasure in my heart, it in every twig, he struck and dug at it but which nearer approach would probably with his tusks-he grasped it with his trunk only sully or disturb. As I saw her gaze-retreated to a little distance, and made directed towards the stars, and heard her another assault with his broad, heavy foresigh, saying that she was sorry she had not head, butting as a ram would do against an studied astrology (yes, sigh in the very antagonist. wantonness of happiness); and as I saw the clear intelligent eye and brow of her husband turned towards her, whilst a good-humored smile played around his lips, I felt that we require but a sensitive heart to enjoy the happiness of others; and he must have a bad one who cannot see that happiness with out envy. I will now record the death of a wild elephant. A more formidable thing than a charge from one of these enraged animals can scarcely be imagined. His trunk elevated in the air, whilst he trumpets forth loudly his rage or hatred, he shuffles his huge carcase along at a pace more rapid than any one would conceive possible when regarding the unwieldy bulk of the animal alone. The bushes bend before him as he advances-the branches of the trees snap off with sharp, rapid reports the animals in the neighboring jungle, alarmed at the danger, hoot, whoop, scream, cry, bellow, and roar to the utmost, in alarm or in anger: and the whole welkin rings with the commotion. Our baggage was of course flung down in all directions by the coolies, as they made for the nearest trees. The elephant paused for a moment over the articles strewed in his way, but only for a moment; and hurling a portmanteau high in the air, advanced as before, bellowing madly. The natives are of course expert climbers, so that when he approached all the coolies had made their way into the Again was the tree shaken, every leaf quivering violently; but no sign of tumbling about it. A slight list to one side was the only perceptible result,-its occupants holding on for life all the time, and shouting violently in the extremity of their fear, or in the vain hope of frightening the animal away. Whilst all this was proceeding, we were reloading the discharged barrels of our rifles; and, having mounted, drew off the attention of the elephant from the coolies by shouting, as we awaited him on our vantage ground, on the brow of the hill. No sooner did the enemy perceive us than he turned away from the tree, which he seemed intent on bringing down, and made directly for the spot on which we were drawn up ready to receive him. Our grooms had climbed high into the largest tree in our vicinity. We were aware that firing at random, or at any great distance was useless, and that our only chance of bringing him down lay in the accuracy of our aim, and his proximity when we fired. We therefore awaited his approach with what calmness we could. Before the elephant had come within range, however, "Uncle Toby," my excellent steed, took fright at the dreadful picture before him, and, starting off, bore me with frightful rapidity down the steepest part of the hill's side. What became of Hofer I did not then know, although I heard the clear ring of his rifle behind me as I was borne triumphantly down the bank. His horse, as I subsequently learned, had behaved admirably well; never swerving in the least until he had fired. His ball, we afterwards discovered, had entered the left eye, and must have given excruciating pain, but was not fatal. Hofer then wheeled round his horse, and followed me down the declivity; aware that the elephant, from the great weight of its head, is unable to go down a steep hill with any rapidity. There was this difference, however, between us, that whilst Uncle Toby had the bit clinched in his teeth and was perfectly unmanageable from excessive fear, Hofer's horse was completely in hand, and he could do with him what he pleased. The elephant labored after us, blood streaming from his eye; and his whole appearance indicated excessive fury and intense pain. When I had now nearly reached the base of the hill-our enemy having been left very far behind my horse, in his wild gallop, threw his fore-legs into a little swamp, where they sank deeply. I was thrown far away over his head, whilst he rolled helplessly on his side. I was not hurt; but the loss of a moment might have been the loss of my life, so jumping up, I grasped my rifle more firmly than ever, and stood npon the defensive. A moment of intense interest to both of us succeeded. Life or death hung upon the issue; for the elephant, having witnessed the accident, left the pursuit of Hofer, and directed his steps towards me. There might have been time to climb into a tree, but I did not make the attempt. My whole mind was on fire with the earnest desire to bring down the monster. Hofer, seeing what had happened, drew up his horse on the hill's side-the elephant, still advancing, soon came in a line with him, his left, and now blind side, being turned towards him. Seeing that he was not observed, Hofer dismounted, and proceeded to take aim immediately behind the shoulder-blade, as the animal labored heavily along. Precisely at the moment when I discharged both barrels full into the broad forehead, Hofer's ball penetrated his side. A momentary check to the animal's progress seemed the only result of this double fire at the instant. He advanced twenty paces or so further, and then fell headlong to the earth; turning over gradually on his right side, and beating the ground ineffectually with his trunk. GRATITUDE, A DIVINE INCENSE. AMONG the very loveliest of the Virtues is Gratitude. How it purifies the heart, and hallows the affections! To feel grateful for favors received (we speak experimentally), is to enjoy a sweet foretaste of Heaven upon earth. THE PHENOMENA WHICH EXCITE OUR WONDER, and engage our attention in connection with inert matter, are truly surprising: and they impress the mind with admiration of the stupendous scale on which many of them are displayed, and the vast periods of time over which the full process of their development extends. life, even when exhibited in its very lowest But far more wonderful is the principle of forms of organised existence. The poet has been accused of a sentimental exaggeration, when, in his indignant protest against cruelty to the lower creation, he exclaims The very beetle that we tread upon, There are, however, both truth and wisdom in these lines. That wondrous mechanism of limbs, muscles, and feelers, wings and eyes, feathery down, or glancing plates of mail, which reveal ever new wonders and beauties under the microscope, and put to shame all the mechanical ingenuity of our steam-engines and machinery-that wondrous mechanism is God's handywork, and the life which we thoughtlessly extinguish is His gift, and its enjoyment one of the ends for which He created it. The butterfly, which flits from flower to flower, the house-fly finding verge enough in the sunbeam that enters through some unguarded chink, or even the unsightly grub, or ear-wig, that seem to the careless eye as blots on the garden, and intruders among pleasant fruits and flowers; all are capable of an enjoyment as amply suited to the capacities of their nature, as we are of pleasure, and also of pain. How harsh an act is it, needlessly, and without provocation, to tread out that mysterious and wonderful gift of life, which not all the wisdom or ingenuity of man could restore! This mysterious principle of life is the greatest and most incomprehensible wonder that excites our curious interest, and proves the limits of our human knowledge. The body animated with life, while wrapt in the restorative repose of sleep, and the same body in the destroying grasp of death, seem at the first glance so nearly similar, that they are not always to be disYet how mighty is the differ criminated. ence between Death and his brother Sleep! The contrast puts all the boasted wisdom of man to shame. The points of resemblance, as well as of contrast, between animal and vegetable life, present subjects of interesting study. The mode of subsistence of the vegetable, and almost the first property necessary for its life, is the power of absorbing the needful constituents of its being from the surrounding elements. It is, accordingly, provided with a root by which it takes hold of the soil, and by the direct agency of which it is fed. A distinguished botanist has indeed aptly defined a plant as a living body deprived of sensation or power of moving from place to place, and fed by means of external roots." With these it imbibes from the soil in which it is placed, the needful fluid or sap by which it is sustained; and by this apparently simple apparatus the whole important and complicated chemical processes are carried on, and the crude soil converted into the needful constituents of vegetable matter. The elementary bodies which form the essential are-carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen. These combine and form various secondary bodies, in which state they are most frequently absorbed by the plants. For this purpose, the root possesses certain structural characteristics, adapting it to its peculiar functions. The ramifications are irregular, differing in this respect from the symmetrical arrangement of the branches. The smaller divisions, or fibrils, as they are called, consist of little bundles of ducts, or spiral vessels, surrounded by woody fibres, lying in a mass of cellular tissue. Towards the point of these fibrils the tissue is loose, and the outer covering wanting; so that they rapidly absorb the fluid with which they are surrounded and brought in contact. constituents of sap Roots are divisible into various classes, according to their form, mode of development, duration, &c.; but the purpose of all is the same. They receive and re-adapt the food necessary for the sustenance of the plant: digesting it, and converting it, with the needful aid of light and heat, into the healthy sap or vegetable blood which circulates through the veins of the living plant. Adapted as they are also for attaching the plant to the soil, they exhibit all the diversity which pertains to lowly shrubs or plants, and tall umbrageous trees; the one having only its tender rooty fibres, terminating with the spongioles or special organs for reception of nutritious moisture, while the other are provided with ingeniously-adapted and widelybranching roots, capable of taking firm hold of the ground, and resisting the tremendous force with which the tempest assails the trees of the forest. This latter character peculiarly pertains to plants, as living bodies destitute of the power of moving from place to place. In other respects, however, the roots supply the same functions in the plant as the absorbent vessels do in the animal. The organs of absorption are, indeed, very dif ferently situated in the two; the animal deriving its nutriment from the stomach-an internal reservoir, into which it has previously introduced the needful and most select elements of nourishment; while the vegetable organs of absorption act exclusively on the external soil. They do not, however, receive all with which they are brought in contact; but select and reject, with a discrimination not less wisely adapted to their requirements than the instincts of the ower animals. The power of absorption by the roots of plants has been explained to be due to the capillarity of the cellular tissues of which they are composed. Such an explanation, however, is so far as it seems to indicate a mere mechanical process, cannot satisfy the mind; for the process goes on healthily during the life of the plant, but no sooner does vitality cease, from whatever cause, than these fine capillary tubes, which had acted with such seeming mechanical regularity before, altogether fail-and the dead plant retains its wonderful contrivances of tissues, fibrils, spongelets, cells, pores, and sap vessels, to as little purpose as the human body is possessed of all its wondrous anatomy, when the spirit has fled away. The living principle thus present in the plant, and quickened into activity with the returning warmth of spring, exhibits a vital activity closely allied in some respects to that of animals, though in others altogether different and especially in that retention of the vital principle under certain conditions, as when grain is laid by, or seeds are buried in the ground so deep as to be beyond the reach of light and air. In this way, also, the winter frosts serve to keep the seeds of the previous autumn in a dormant state until the returning warmth of spring sets them free, and, under the genial influence of the warm moisture and porous soil, they germinate, and shoot up into stem and leaf. Here, however, we see one distinct line of argument presenting itself to our mind, the force of which it is impossible to gainsay or resist. The gardener or husbandman, by soils and manures, by draining or forcing, or, again, by grafting, transplanting, and training, can work many marvellous changes on plants, flowers, and fruit; but the original mystery of vegetable life-the vital principle without which all else is vain-remains as mysterious and inexplicable as ever. Reason as philosophy may-by means of all the lights of science, and all the wonderful and mysterious laws which modern discoveries have revealed-we are still brought back to the simple argument of a child, which intuitively discerns the necessity of a first cause, and finds ample satisfaction in the assurance that God made all these thingsthat He said, "Let it be!" AND IT WAS SO. PROSPECT AND RETROSPECT. Good sense and learning may esteem obtain; BYRON. A PLEASING RUMOR HAS REACHED US, that we may anticipate a large influx of new subscribers to our Fifth Volume,-this present number affording an excellent opportunity for their joining our standard. We bid all and each of these new-comers a hearty welcome; and as it is only natural that they should wish to know something of us and of our objects, we will here offer a few brief observations. OUR JOURNAL was established with a view to make people "think." To accomplish this, we have presented everything in its own proper color and shape; invariably declaring the truth, and leaving people to draw their own inferences. It is only by calm and dispassionate reasoning that we could ever hope to make converts. Abuse is a feeble weapon; nor is assertion much better. We love to "prove" all we advance; and herein has been our success. The amount of good we have effected during the past two years, is almost incalculable. In that period of time Four Volumes have seen the light. We will leave them to speak for themselves, and for us. They are "bound" to do so. Here we would observe, that the one great object of our life is to make people natural. It is the hardest task we could have undertaken! The world we live in is made up of deception. Habit sanctions it; and Use has become a second nature. Whilst breaking a lance at the follies of the world, we incur the most deadly resentment of some, the anger of others, the contempt of a few,-but the praise of all good men. These last hold up our hands, and keep us brave in the battle. Our Retrospect then is a delightful one. We have won a great victory, and planted our standard high upon the necks of our enemies. The immense efforts made to annihilate us, by certain parties, have been a great failure. They feel it, and now slink away abashed. Perseverance has triumphed over spleen and malice; and the Public now recognise this JOURNAL as-their “ own." Now for our Prospect. This is so entirely in the hands of those who wish us well,whose dear families have derived lasting benefit from a perusal of our pages, that we cannot see cause for anything but rejoicing. Our sentiments stand recorded. And as for our plain-speaking, it is so thoroughly estimated, our honesty of purpose so apparent, that nothing more remains to be added. As regards the features of the JOURNAL, they will remain unchanged. Natural History will, of course, have its usual place. Popular Science, too, and the Domestic Arts and Virtues, will be introduced as usual. In addition, all that can tend to make Society good, amiable, natural, and happy, will be most sedulously cared for. We have often said, and we now repeat itthat all time which is not properly occupied is time thrown away. Nor can we consider anything worth living for, unless it be the pleasure experienced from being made useful to our fellow-men. For this do we live. In this do we delight. "HOW DO I LIVE?"-LISTEN ! Living friendly, feeling friendly, They may do to me again; Is worth a torrent of abuse. I have felt, and known how bitter Not an eye with pity pearled. Ah! be kind-life hath no secret For our happiness like this; Kindly hearts are seldom sad onesBlessing ever bringeth bliss; Lend a helping hand to others, Smile though all the world should frown; Man is man-we all are brothers, Black and white; yes, red and brown. Man is man, through all gradations; Little recks it where he stands, Or what his creed, through all the nations Scattered over many lands. Man is man by form and feature, Man by vice and virtue too; Man in all one common nature Speaks and binds us brothers true. J. HOBBINS. THE IMPORTANCE OF A WORD. THE Chinese have a saying,-that an unlucky word dropped from the tongue, cannot be brought back again by a coach and six horses. We observe at these seasons strange contrarieties. Hearts hard as adamant,-closely hugging what they call "their own." People with narrow souls,-rich in worldly possessions, but grudging the merest trifle from their store to make a poor fellow-creature's heart glad. Purse-proud Pharisees-(wanting for nothing but a tender heart);-warmly and sumptuously clad, looking down with supreme contempt upon the shivering wretches that everywhere cross their path. In a word, Mammon riding rough-shod over all the better feelings of our common nature. We never fail to recognise much of this, during the festive seasons of social rejoicings. If the iron-hearted performers in this drama of life could only hear expressed the stifled maledictions that rapidly course through the arteries of our heart, we imagine they would feel startled. These men, who vaunt so much about the "dignity of human nature," -how they cumber the earth! * Well; let us change the scene. Happy are we to say, that we do not boast of having buttoned up our pockets, nor of having hardened our better feelings against the wants, necessities, and even pleasures of those with whom we have been (however distantly) associated. Oh-no! We are not rich,-far from it. Our purse is consumptive,-very, but our heart lies at the bottom of it; and thus, somehow or other, do we always contrive to find something to go on with. Odd, too, is it, but religiously true, that in proportion to the little good it has been in our power to dispense to others, in an increasing ratio have we been ourself benefited! And the days and evenings have passed! What how soundly we have slept! How pleasantly delight have we found in those little interchanges of love and affection which make this world such a perfect Paradise! The readers of OUR JOURNAL are so select, and their minds so refined, that we feel quite sure they understand what we are speaking of; and not only understand it, but enjoy it. "Little things," as we have recently remarked, are the very lungs of our existence. They make up, collectively, all we know—or can know, of human happiness. This brings us to the real object of the present Paper, which is to record, with feelings of gratitude, the large share of "Little Kindnesses" that has again been showered upon our head;—as an 66 'annual custom." May that custom never be discontinued! It would be idle,-nay hardly possible, for us to go into detail about the many offerings of love and friendship that have reached us from all parts of the country, both from those who have seen us and love us, and from those who, not having yet seen us, nevertheless love us dearly. Day after day, hour after hour, as the old year waned and whilst its successor was preparing to greet us with all due honor-did the Post, Rail, or private Messenger bring some tribute of affectionate remembrance for Editor." To note, too, the taste of the selections, -so varied; so useful; so ornamental; and some, so savory-so provoking to the appetite! "Our Then the packing! What a number of dear, delicate fingers, and ambling little feet must have been at work for us! And with what extreme care and precision was every separate article laid side by side with its fellow companion! How readily can we enter into the feelings of each one of our guardian angels, as they first set them out, then arranged them; and finally completed the nailing and fastening of those pretty, attractive, and well-stored boxes, destined to rejoice our old but ever tender heart! We see the crowd of smiling faces now. Oh-yes! We can imagine nothing on earth more delightful than the reciprocating of "Little Kindnesses." Never mind the estimated value in £, 8. d. The idea of such a thing is monstrous. What the heart bestows lovingly, is priceless. Some people are most pleased when they receive presents; and care little about sending them. gra These people, who boast so of having kept their purse-strings undrawn during the late inelement season-and who glory in their having "done" all applicants out of their Christmas tuities, are of kin to those wretches who, having travelled in an omnibus from the City nearly to the end of their journey, yet refuse to pay, because the poor horses cannot stand upon the brow of a slippery hill, or safely proceed beyond a certain distance! We have seen many of these liberal-minded worthies; and have not failed to 'open" upon them as they deserved.-ED. K. J. VOL. V.-2. Such are not in our There was not wanting, among the rest, the well-known, beautiful direction, by the fair little hand of which we took special notice in our Third Volume, page 7. Time has since revealed the owner of that fair hand; and we accept her annual tribute of kindness with the most sincere pleasure.-ED. K. J. с |