are as marry and garrulous as any other beings. In fact, much of the reported elevation of their character appears to be purely imaginary. It must be admitted, however, that in latter times they may have greatly degenerated, partly from, the interruption of their ancient manners, from association with Europeans; and partly, alas! from adopting their vices. The tribes in the vicinity of the rocky mountains have been described by Lewis and Clarke, and by Mr James, in the account of their travels. They are almost without exception addicted to habits of extreme indolence self-preservation, self-defence, and recreation, being their usual inducements to action. The laborious occupations of the men consist almost exclusively in hunting, warfare, and tending their horses. Their amusements are principally horse-racing, gambling, and sports of various kinds. The cultivation of corn and other vegetables, the gathering of fruit, cooking, and all other kinds of domestic drudgery, is the business of the women, the men deeming it degrading to their dignity to be occupied in employments, of this kind. Their religion consists in the observance of a variety of rites and ceremonies, which they practise with much zeal and ardour. Their devotional exercises consist in singing, dancing, and the performance of various mystical ceremonies, which they believe efficacious in healing the sick, frustrating the designs of their enemies, and in giving success to any enterprize in which they may be embarked. Among all those tribes and, nations, secret associations or councils are common, the proceedings of which are held sacred, and not to be divulged, except when the interests of the people are thought to require a disclosure. To these councils, which they denominate medicine, or rather magic feasts, none are admitted but the principal men of the nation, or such as have signalized themselves by their exploits in battle, hunting, stealing horses, or in any of the pursuits accounted laudable by the Indians. In these assemblies, the policy of making war or peace, and the manner in which it is to be effected, also all matters involving the interests of the nation, are first discussed. Having thus been the subject of deliberation in solemn council (for the proceedings of these feasts are conducted with the greatest solemnity), the decision, of whatever nature it may be, is published the people at large by certain members of the council performing the office of criers. On such occasions the criers not only proclaim the measures that have been recommended, but explain the reasons of them, and urge the people zealously to support them. It is also the business of the criers, who are generally men of known valour and approved habits, and are able to enforce their precepts by the examples they have set, to harangue the people of their village daily, and exhort them to such a course of life as is deemed praiseworthy. On such occasions, which are usually selected in the stillness of morning or evening, the crier marches through the village, uttering his exhortation in a loud voice, and endeavouring to inculcate correct principles and sentiments. The young men and children of the village are directed how to demean themselves, in order to become useful, and enjoy the esteem of good men, and the favour of the good spirit. In this way, they are incited to wage war, or sue for peace, and to practise | according to their ideas of morality and virtue, and may be swayed to almost any purpose that their elders, for such are their magi called, think proper to execute. They appear to have no laws, except such as grow out of habitual usages, or such as are sanctioned by common consent. The execution of their government seems to be vested in the chiefs and warriors, while the grand council of the nation is composed of the medicine council already mentioned, at which the principal chief presides. In all their acts of devotion, as also on all occasions where their confidence is to be won, or their friendship to be plighted, the smoking of tobacco seems to be invariably regarded as an inviolable token of sincerity. They believe in the existence of a supreme being, whom they denominate "master of life," or "good spirit," but of his attributes their ideas are vague and confused. They are generally in the habit of offering in sacrifice a portion of the game first taken in a hunting expedition, a part of the first products of the field, and often a small portion of the food provided for their refreshment. In smoking, they generally direct the first puff upward, and the second downward to the earth; or the first to the rising, and the second to the setting sun, after which they inhale the smoke into their lungs, and puff it out through the nostrils for their own refreshment. They have some indistinct notions of the immortality of the soul, but appear to know no distinction of heaven or hell, Elysium or Tartarus, as the abode of departed spirits. The arts of civilized life, instead of exciting their emulation, are generally viewed by the Indians as objects unworthy of their attention. This results, as a natural consequence, from their habits of indolence. They are aware that much labour is requisite in the prosecution of them, and being accustomed from their infancy to look upon manual labour, of every description as a drudgery that pertains, exclusively to the female part of their community, they think it degrading to the character of men to be employed in them. Hunting, horsemanship, and warfare, are the only avocations in which their ambition or sense of honour prompts them to engage. Their reluctance to forgive an injury is proverbial. Injuries are revenged by the injured, and blood for blood is always demanded, if the deceased has friends who dare retaliate on the destroyer. Instances have occurred, where their revenge has become hereditary, and quarrels have been settled long after the parties immediately concerned have become extinct. Much has been published in relation to the high antiquity of Indian tradition, of that particularly which relates to their origin and religion. But from the examples afforded by the several nations of Indians resident upon the Mississippi and its waters, but little proof is to be had in favour of the position. It is not doubted that the immediate objects of their worship have been held in reverence by their predecessors for a long succession of ages; but in respect to any miraculous dispensat ons of providence of which they have a traditional knowledge, their ideas are at best exceedingly vague and confused, and of occurrences recorded in sacred history they appear to be entirely ignorant, as the deluge, &c. The knowledge which they have of their ancestors is also very limited, so much so that they can seldom trace 152 back their pedigree more than a few generations, and The elevated moral virtues of the Indians have often formly opposing firmness and reserve to the liberties to remonstrate against the measure, which is in fact frequently the consequence of their own earnest solicitations. In this situation, the devoted man sings his war songs to the Wahconda, narrating the martial exploits of his youth, and finally chaunts his death song. If on the return of the nation he is still living, he is taken by his friends to the village, and treated with the usual attention. On their warlike marches they endeavour to make as great a display of force as practicable, in order to intimidate any lurking enemies. In the selection of their food, they choose the most nutritive, without much regard to epicurism. In the preservation of their food, no pains are taken to render it savoury or palatabletheir object is solely to secure it against putrefaction. They use no spices-very seldom even salt, which article is only prized for its usefulness to their horses. They are fond of sugar and saccharine fruits. The desire for ardent spirits is a taste acquired from their intercourse with Europeans; but they appear to have a natural propensity for the fumes of tobacco, which they inevitably inhale into the lungs, and eject through the nostrils. They use tobacco in no other way than in smoking, of which they are exceedingly fond. The Indians of the western states know not the use of the precious metals; but barter skins for necessaries of life, and for trinkets, of which they are fond. As a circulating medium, they use wampum and small shells. Polygamy is common among them, every man being allowed to have as many wives as he can maintain. Disputes often arise on the introduction of a new and young wife into the family, but after a time the older squaws become reconciled to the stranger. Marriages are binding on the parties only as long as they think proper to live together, and are often contracted for a limited and specified time only. The squaws seem susceptible of very strong attachments. The usual number of children in a family is generally from four to six, though sometimes as many as ten. Two children are often suckled at the breast at the same time, the one being sometimes three years of age. Child-bearing is an easy process among these, as well as most savage nations. The infant when newly born is of a light, reddish brown colour-it becomes darker as it grows up. Conjugal fidelity is not by any means punctually observed, or thought a matter of moral obligation. Dancing is a common amusement among them, but it is conducted in a grave and decorous manner. Gambling, too, is carried on to a pernicious extent. Hunting and war are, however, the two chief excitements. The Indian tribes are now certainly on the decrease, some of them rapidly so. Few submit to the restraints of civilization. The Cherokees are, however, an exception. This tribe have begun to cultivate the land, erect towns and villages, and have introduced the arts of printing and general education. POETRY. THE COMPLAINT OF A FORSAKEN INDIAN WOMAN. [When a Northern Indian, from sickness, is unable to continue his journey with his companions, he is left behind, covered over with deerskins, and is supplied with water, food, and fuel, if the situation of the place will afford it. He is informed of the track which his companions intend to pursue, and if he be unable to follow, or overtake them, he perishes alone in the desert; unless he should have the good fortune to fall in with some other tribes of Indians. The females are equally, or still more, exposed to the same fate.] Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! In sleep I heard the northern gleams; The stars, they were among my dreams; In rustling conflict through the skies, I heard, I saw the flashes drive, And yet they are upon my eyes, And yet I am alive; Before I see another day, Oh let my body die away! My fire is dead: it knew no pain; Yet it is dead, and I remain: All stiff with ice the ashes lie; And they are dead, and I will die. For clothes, for warmth, for food, and fire; Alone, I cannot fear to die. Through his whole body something ran, A most strange working did I see; That he might pull the sledge for me: And then he stretched his arms, how wild! Oh mercy! like a helpless child. My little joy! my little pride! In two days more I must have died. Then do not weep and grieve for me; I feel I must have died with thee. O wind, that o'er my head art flying I should not feel the pain of dying, Young as I am, my course is run, I shall not see another sun; I cannot lift my limbs to know If they have any life or no. For once could have thee close to me, Nor shall I see another day.-WORDSWORTH. THE PRINCIPLES OF BEAUTY IN COLOURING. To the system of man, so admirably adjusted to external things, all nature is either "beauty to the eye or music to the ear Mr Hay justly remarks that the perception of beauty in colours, is one of the earliest developments in childhood. How soon does even the infant indicate the delight arising from the stimulus of bright and beautiful colours! This pleasure is doubly increased in the boy, who pauses even amid his heedless rambles, struck with the waving corn fields, studded with their red poppies, their blue bonnets, or their oxeye daisies, it even fills the soul of the poet, who dreams of his "waving daffodils," or gazes on the "deep blue sky," or the gorgeously tinted clouds of a summer eve. But it is the object of the author of this philosophical treatise to extend our views beyond the simple perception of beauty, and to enquire into the laws which regulate our sensations of it. There are harmonic laws throughout all nature. "There is," says a writer here quoted, "harmony of numbers-in the force of gravity, -in the planetary movements, in the laws of heat, light, electricity, and chemical affinity,-in the forms of animals and plants,-in the perceptions of the mind. We think modern science will soon show that the mysticism of Pythagoras was mystical only to the unlettered, and that it was a system of philosophy founded on the then existing mathematics, which latter seem to have comprised more of the philosophy of numbers, than our present." Our author proposes a new definition of colour, differing from the common notion of the materiality of the particles of light. Light," says he, may be considered as an active, and darkness a passive principle, in the economy of nature and colour an intermediate phenomenon arising from their joint influence." It is usual to consider colour as an inherent quality in light, and to suppose that every coloured body absorbs a certain class of its rays, and reflects or transmits the remainder; but it appears to me that colour is more probably the result of certain modes in which the opposite principles of motion and rest, or force and resistance, operate in the production and modification of light, and that each colour is mutually related to these active and passive principles." 66 66 Would this definition not have been more precise by stating colour to be " an intermediate phenomenon arising from certain modifications of the active force on the passive or percipient organ? If light be the active principle, darkness is simply a negation of this principle; nor can it be well conceived of a passive principle exercising any part in a joint influence; neither can we see the strict logical propriety of Goethe's theory of colour being the result of the blendings of light and darkness." We are disposed to believe that in all the five special senses, there is first of all an external force or stimulus, which, acting with certain modifications on the percipient, (the organ, and through the organ the mind,) gives rise to the various degrees and intensities of sensations, colour being one. Mr Hay appears to have established, very conclusively, that yellow, red, and blue, are the primary elements of all colour, and that the mixture of two or three, in various definite proportions, gives rise to all the various modifications of colour. "White and black being only the representatives of light and darkness, cannot be reckoned colours, but merely their modifiers, in reducing them by their attenuating and subducive qualities, to tints and shades respectively." Mr Hay, in explanation of his theory, thus proceeds: "The relations that yellow, red, and blue bear to light and darkness, and the mode in which those relations opérate throughout the calorific circle, may be shown in the following manner. Let us suppose the active principle of light divided into 180 parts, and the passive principle of shade into the same number, so that the medial gray arising from their joint influence, will be, to each of these principles or powers, as 90, that is in the ratio of 1 to 2, because they mutually neutralize each other; and the following are the proportions in which light and shade will be found to be combined in the primary elements of colour: Relation to Relation to Light. Yellow, 45 15 30 30 15 45 Neutral gray, Medial Power as a Colour. 30 30 30 90 Red, it will be observed, is the most perfect colour, from its having an equal relation to light and shade, the two principles being exhibited in it in the same ratio as in neutral gray, but in a different and more vigorous mode. In yellow, the active principle being to the passive, as 3 to 1, and in blue, as 1 to 3; these colours, when united in green, exhibit the two principles acting as in red, in equal ratios,-thus constituting green the most perfect of compounded colours. The secondary colours are orange, green, and purple, and are produced by the pairing of the primaries.' Mr Hay, by an ingenious modification of the analytical experiment of Sir Isaac Newton, which consisted in separating, by a prism, a white ray of light into seven colours, succeeded in recombining the primary colours, so as to form the usual compound ones. Thus, by a second prism, he made the blue ray to fall upon the red, and a purple was produced,—the blue falling on the yellow produced a green; and a mingling of the red and yellow produced an orange colour. 66 The next section of the work treats of the "contrast or opposition of colours," and the following explains a new system of chromatic harmony." This ingenious theory exhibits the combinations of the primary and secondary colours, as obeying certain definite arrangements, which can be expressed by numbers, but with`out more space and the requisite diagrams, we could not attempt to explain it here, and must refer to the treatise itself. The last section contains a practical application of the modes in which the principles of beauty are developed in colour. Here there are many appropriate and novel retmarks, thus: In the colouring of the animal and vegetable productions of nature, red occurs but rarely in a state of pure intensity, and always in comparatively small quantities. Its effect in works of art is gorgeous and powerful, and on all occasions its predominance is expressive of ostentation and grandeur. Its contrasting colour, green, is of an opposite character, being more soft and agreeable to the eye than any other decided colour. Green is, consequently, nature's favourite colour, prevailing to a far greater extent in the clothing of the earth's surface than any other; but it seldom appears in the vegetable kingdom in its most intense purity, its various tones being generally of a subdued and mellow character. The volume, besides its intrinsic merits, which are great, presents to the bibliomaniac, the recommendation of great beauty and tasteful design, both internally and externally. EXPERIMENTS ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE TRANSPORT OF ERRATIC BOULDERS. By WILLIAM RHIND. (Read before the Wernerian Society, January 1845). In order to ascertain the relative forces of simple water, and of a thick mixture of clay and water in transporting heavy bodies, the following experiments were instituted: Into a dry wooden trough, one foot in breadth, and half a foot in depth, and open at the end, I placed stones of various sizes, from a few ounces in weight to several pounds. I then took a quantity of water, and poured it suddenly into the trough at the upper end. By this current, all the smaller stones were swept down, and a few of the middle-sized, while the larger stones remained in their original positions, or were but slightly moved. I then took the same quantity of water and mixed with it a quantity of clay, so as to form a semiliquid mass. Having replaced the stones in the trough as before, I now poured into it the mixture of clay. This mixture descended at a much slower rate than the water, but it bore along with it all the stones, even the largest. A similar experiment was made with a mixture of siliceous sand. This substance did not form such a tenacious mass as the clay; it more easily separated on coming in contact with the larger stones, and though all the stones were more or less moved, only the smaller ones were carried altogether out of the trough. A mixture of clay and siliceous sand had much the same transporting powers as the clay; and nearly the same was the case with a mixture of common black mould. When the clayey paste was made very thick, stones of several pounds weight placed upon it, floated on the top, sinking about one half or less; when the mass was more diluted with water, the stones sunk lower, according to their size. The clayey mass which had issued from the trough, presented the following appearance, after the conclusion of the above experiments:-At the part next the lower end of the trough, several of the larger stones were seen nearly bare, and stuck fast in the mud and soil, the clay having been washed from around them, in consequence of water having been repeatedly poured into the trough. A section of the central portion of clay exhibited many of the stones imbedded in the mass, at various depths and in an irregular manner. The lighter particles of clay, and a considerable part of the sand were deposited farther off, and contained few pebbles. On the whole, this miniature drift had very much the appearance which the diluvial clay presents in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh and various other localities, and tended to suggest the idea that similar agencies on a large scale had produced the latter. The average specific gravity of granite, greenstone. or other similar rocks, is about three times greater than that of water. Masses of such rocks, then, will weigh about a third less in water than in the air; but when considering the moving power of water, we must also take into account the accumulated impetus which waves and rapid currents bear upon large masses of stone,—a force in many instances similar to that of a mill run upon a water wheel. It is consistent with experience that simple water, and especially salt water, which is specifically heavier than fresh, may, under certain circumstances, move large masses of stone. But when to water we add clay and silex, so as to form a tenacious mass, we then have a moving power of nearly the same specific gravity as the stones to be moved; and when this semifluid mass rushes down declivities, or passes in currents of many hundreds of feet in thickness along narrow gorges and valleys, the impetus and accumulated weight of the mass will be sufficient to carry along with it the largest fragments of rock, such as those generally known as erratic rocks. That both these modes of transport are now in opera tion, and have been extensively so in former eras, we think can be made abundantly evident. That, in the present day, large masses of stones are continually being transported from one situation to another by fluviatile and oceanic forces, cannot escape the most casual observer. The beds of our rivers and the beaches of our sea shores, especially estuary shores, afford daily proofs of this circumstance. Thus at Newhaven, on the shores of the Forth, large round masses of the peculiar greenstone of Cramond Island are found in great numbers, the distance of transport being about two miles. Masses of reddish porphyry are also found in the same locality, which must have been transported at least 20 to 31 miles from the westward. The same phenomena are observable on the Firth of Tay. There, especially on the southern shore, where the current of the river and the receding sea tides join with great velocity, masses of rock of various sizes are in continual motion. This is easily proved, because, at intervals of several miles, there are well marked porphyries, traps, and red sandstone, all differing from each other, yet all found huddled together towards the termination of the estuary. Not only are these masses rolled along the bottom, but we have seen them actually lifted up and rolled one over the other. Now, if these masses can be lifted, even a few feet or yards, there are no limits to their transportation, but the limits of the transporting power. It appears to me that there can be traced, both in this neighbourhood and in many localities in Scotland, two distinct and totally different deposits of drift and erratic boulders. One of these we shall call marine, the other cataclysmic. The former consists of round masses of stone, almost all water-worn, of various sizes, down to small gravel, generally mixed with siliceous sand, sometimes with mud, and rarely with clay. The other consists of clay, or till mixed or interstratified with claysand, and interspersed with numerous angular fragments of rocks, as also with round boulder masses of various sizes. A good specimen of both these divisions, the one superimposed on the other, is seen in the sections of the line of the Trinity and Edinburgh Railway, and on the sections of the North British line to the east of Edinburgh. The lower or marine bed consists of a darkbluish clay or mud, with round boulders interspersed, composed of various greenstones and porphyries, the whole presenting an appearance exactly similar to the mud bottom of the present Firth. The upper mass again consists of a light clay mixed with sand, in which there are few large boulders, but a considerable number of sandstone fragments, almost all angular and not water worn. The marine or lower diluvial beds are to be seen in many localit es in Scotland, such as on the Argyleshire coast, in many of the valleys leading up from the sea into the mountain passes, and in part of Inverness-shire, In the whole lower portion of Morayshire, the subsoil is composed of this marine gravel. In several situations, it still retains the form of long parallel heaps or ridges of water-worn stones and sandy gravel, just as it had been accumulated by the tidal waves and currents. In other places it is covered by reddish clay till, a bluish clay and recent soil. The upper or cataclysmic beds are almost of universal occurrence. They consist, as already stated, of clay and sand of various depths. Erratic blocks of various sizes are found imbedded in the clay, and frequently lie bare and exposed on the surface,-a quantity of the clay appearing to have been washed away. Sometimes large masses of stones rest on the slope of a mountain, with |