ramble about by the light of torches, which they carry with them, among the rubbish in the subterranean chambers. The site of Pompeii was discovered in the same way with Herculaneum-namely, by the digging of a well. Pompeii, however, as has been already said, was not buried nearly so deep as Herculaneum, and the substances which covered it were found to be much softer and more easily removed. Consequently, a great deal more has been done at Pompeii than at Herculaneum in making excavations. Nearly a third of the whole city has now been explored, and the work is still going on. The chief inducement for continuing to dig out these old ruins, is to recover the various pictures, sculptures, utensils, and other curious objects that are found in the houses. These things, as fast as they are found, are brought to Naples, and deposited in an immense museum which has been built there to receive them.-Jacob Abbott. LESSON LXXVII.—DISSEMINATION OF SEEDS. It is little suspected by many how largely small seedeating animals, and especially birds, contribute to the clothing of the earth with its varied vegetable riches. Peculiar provision is made in many cases for the dissemination of seeds, in their own structure, of which the pappus of the dandelion, and the adhesive hooks of the burdock, are examples; but this is largely effected also in the stomachs of birds, the seed being often discharged not only uninjured, but made more ready to germinate by the heat and maceration to which it has been subjected. "From trivial causes spring mighty effects," and the ⚫ motto has been illustrated by a close observer from this same subject. Doubtless, many of our most richly wooded landscapes owe much of their timber to the agency of quadrupeds and birds. Linnets, goldfinches, thrushes, goldcrests, &c., feed on the seeds of elms, firs, and ashes, and carry them away to hedge-rows, where, fostered and protected by bush and bramble, they spring up and become luxuriant trees. Many noble oaks have been planted by the squirrel, who unconsciously yields no inconsiderable boon to the domain he infests. Towards autumn this provident little animal mounts the branches of oak trees, strips off the acorns, and buries them in the earth, as a supply of food against the severities of winter. He is most probably not gifted with a memory of sufficient retention to enable him to find all that he secretes, which are thus left in the ground, and springing up the following year, finally grow into magnificent trees. Pheasants devour numbers of acorns in the autumn, some of which, having passed through the stomach, probably germinate. The nuthatch, in an indirect manner, also frequently becomes a planter. Having twisted off their boughs a cluster of beech-nuts, this curious bird resorts to some favourite tree, whose bole is uneven, and endeavours by a series of manœuvres, to peg it into one of the crevices of the bark. During the operation it oftentimes falls to the ground, and is caused to germinate by the moisture of winter. Many small beeches are found growing near the haunts of the nuthatch, which have evidently been planted in the manner described.-P. H. Gosse. From "The Romance of Natural History." P LESSON LXXVIII.-TO A BEE. Thou wert out betimes, thou busy busy bee! When abroad I took my early way, Before the cow from her resting-place Had risen up, and left her trace On the meadow with dew so grey, I saw thee, thou busy busy bee! Thou wert alive, thou busy busy bee! When the crowd in their sleep were dead. Thou wert abroad in the freshest hour, When the sweetest odour comes from the flower. Man will not learn to leave his bed, And be wise and copy thee, thou busy busy bee! Thou wert working late, thou busy busy bee! When the evening primrose was ready to burst, Thou art a miser, thou busy busy bee! Still on thy golden store intent Thy summer in heaping and hoarding is spent Wise lesson this for me, thou busy busy bee! Little dost thou think, thou busy busy bee! When the latest flowers of the ivy are gone, Thy master comes for the spoil; Woe then for thee, thou busy busy bee!-Southey. LESSON LXXIX.-THE GEYSIRS. We had been twelve or thirteen hours on horseback, when at last we descried, straight in front, a low, steep, brown, rugged hill, standing entirely detached from the range at the foot of which we had been riding; and in a few minutes more, wheeling round its outer end, we found ourselves in the presence of the steaming Geysirs. I do not know that I can give you a better notion of the appearance of the place, than by saying that it looked as if-for about a quarter of a mile-the ground had been honeycombed by disease into numerous sores and orifices; not a blade of grass grew on its hot, inflamed surface, which consisted of unwholesome. looking red livid clay, or crumpled shreds and shards of slough, like incrustations. Naturally enough, our first impulse on dismounting was to scamper off at once to the great Geysir. As it lay at the farthest end of the congeries of hot springs, in order to reach it we had to run the gauntlet of all the pools of boiling water and scalding quagmires of soft clay that intervened, and consequently arrived on the spot with our ankles nicely poulticed. But the occasion justified our eagerness. A smooth siliceous basin, seventy-two feet in diameter and four feet deep, with a hole at the bottom, as in a washing basin on board a steamer, stood before us, brimful of water just upon the simmer, while up into the air above our heads rose a great column of vapour, looking as if it was going to turn into the fisherman's genie. The ground about the brim was composed of layers of incrusted silica, like the outside of an oyster, sloping gently down on all sides from the edge of the basin. Having satisfied our curiosity with this cursory inspection of what we had come so far to see, hunger compelled us to look about with great anxiety for the cook, and you may fancy our delight at seeing that functionary in the very act of dishing up dinner on a neighbouring hillock. Sent forward at an early hour under the chaperonage of a guide, he had arrived about two hours before us, and seizing with a general's eye the key of the position, at once turned an idle bubbling little Geysir into a camp kettle, dug a bake-house in the hot soft clay, and improvising a kitchen-range at a neighbouring vent, made himself completely master of the situation. It was about one o'clock in the morning when we sat down to dinner, and as light as day. Suddenly, it seemed as if, beneath our feet, a quantity of subterraneous cannon were going off; the earth shook, and starting to our feet we set off at full speed towards the great basin. By the time we reached its brim, however, the noise had ceased, and all we could see was a slight movement in the centre, as if an angel had passed by and troubled the water. Irritated at this false alarm, we determined to revenge ourselves by going and tormenting the Strokr. Strokr-or the churn-you must know, is an unfortunate Geysir, with so little command over his temper or his stomach, that you can get a rise out of him whenever you like. All that is necessary is to collect a quantity of sods, and throw them down his funnel. As he has no basin to protect himself from these liberties, you can approach to the very edge of the pipe, about five feet in diameter, and look down at the boiling water which is perpetually seething at the bottom. In a few minutes the dose of turf you have just administered begins to disagree with him; he works himself up into an awful passion; tormented by the qualms of incipient sickness, he groans, and hisses, and boils up, and spits at you |