OCTOBER XXV.

Division of Time.

TIME is measured and divided according to the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, particularly those of the sun and moon. These two spheres have the greatest influence upon the state of man. The revolution of the moon serves only to mark the division of time upon our globe, while that of the sun is doubtless instrumental in regulating that division in all the planets which revolve round him.

Day is that portion of time which the earth expends in revolving round its own axis. That space of time during which the sun is above the horizon is called the artificial day; it is the time of light, and is determined by the rising and the setting of the sun. The time of darkness, when the sun is below the horizon, is called night. Day and night taken together make the solar day, which is divided into twenty-four parts, called hours; and each hour is again divided into sixty equal parts, called minutes; each minute into sixty seconds; and each second into sixty thirds. This division of the day into hours, minutes, &c. is indicated by the movement of the shadow occasioned by the gnomon of a sun-dial, or by the hands of a clock. Well-constructed sun-dials constantly mark the true time of the sun; but other time-pieces, which require to be regulated by the mean time of the sun, are frequently out of repair. Most Europeans begin their day and their hours at midnight, from which they reckon twelve hours till noon, and twelve hours from that to the ensuing midnight. The Italians begin their day at sun-set, from which to the following evening they reckon twenty-four hours. The Turks begin their day a quarter of an hour after sun-set, from which they count twelve equal hours; and when they are elapsed, they reckon twelve more to the following evening. The Jews begin their day at sun-set, from which they number twelve equal hours to sun-rise, and as many from his rising to his setting; consequently, the hours of their day are longer or shorter than those of the night, in proportion as the day is longer or shorter than the night.

A week is the space of seven days. A solar month is the time which the sun takes up in passing through one

sign of the zodiac; but these months do not begin and finish exactly when the sun enters into a new sign. The lunar month is the space of time which elapses between two new moons, that is, twenty-nine days, twelve hours and forty-four minutes.

The solar year comprises twelve solar months, or the time which the sun is in passing through the twelve signs of the zodiac; and this is generally reckoned to be three hundred and sixty-five days, five hours, forty-eight minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. These years are at present used by most of the people of Europe. The lunar year is that space of time which comprises twelve lunar months, or twelve revolutions of the moon round the earth. It is com posed of three hundred and fifty-four days, eight hours, and forty-eight minutes. The Jews and the Turks use this year, and to make it correspond with the solar year, they often intercalate a whole month. Our common year begins ten or eleven days after the sun has entered the sign of Capricorn.

However trivial and unimportant these measurements and divisions of time may appear in themselves, they are still of great consequence in their application to the moral life of man. The hours, days, weeks, months, and years, which compose the period of our present existence, have been granted to us, that by the proper use of our faculties we might fulfil the end of our creation. How, then, do we employ this precious time? Minutes and seconds are trifles in our eyes, which do not deserve our attention; yet no. thing is more certain than that he who makes light of minutes will be equally prodigal of his hours. Are we even more economical of longer periods? If from all the days that are allotted us we deduct those which have been entirely lost with respect to our immortal souls, how little of real and effective life will remain!

How distressing and humiliating is the reflection, that of the hundreds and thousands of hours which Divine goodness has intrusted us with, to devote to the great and eternal interest of our souls, so many have been shamefully consumed in separating ourselves from God, the best and tenderest of fathers! How many years are passed in idleness and in vice, in gratifying our passions, and injuring our neighbours! How inconceivably quick the few moments

that yet remain fly away! Hour after hour imperceptibly glide along, and are irrecoverably lost; and an hour is much to a man who can so easily calculate by hours the period of his rael and effective life.

Teach us, O Lord, so to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom; and that henceforth we may make a proper use of that time which thou mayest still condescend to grant us; that so we may gain a portion of grace through Christ, and assure unto ourselves a glorious and happy eternity.

OCTOBER XXVI.

The End of Summer.

THE last rays of the summer sun now fall feebly on the earth every thing is changed: that country which so lately bloomed in verdant beauty and blushing charms is becoming poor, withered, and barren. We no longer see the trees rich in blossom, nor the spring gay with verdure; the magnificence of summer, displayed in a thousand variations of colours, whose richness is relieved by the beautiful green of the meadows and waving groves, is no more; the purple hue of the vine has faded, and the gilded ears no longer ornament the fields. The last leaves of the trees are falling; the pines, the elms, and the oaks, bend beneath the blasts of the fierce north wind; and the fields, which have lavished upon us so many gifts, are at length exhausted.

These sad changes must necessarily diminish our pleasures. When the earth has lost her verdure, gaiety, and beauty; when the fields are swampy, and gloominess reigns, man is deprived of many of those delights that he receives through the medium of sight. When the earth is thus destitute, nothing is seen around but a rugged and uneven surface. The songs of the birds no longer rejoice our ears, and there is nothing that recalls to our minds that universal delight which we so lately shared with all animated beings. The melody of the birds yields to the murmuring of waters and the howling of the winds. The fragrance of the fields is gone, and the sense of feeling is pained by the impression of cold and humid air.

But in the midst of these gloomy prospects we have rea

son to acknowledge how faithfully nature fulfils the eternal law prescribed to her, of being useful at all times and seasons of the year. Though, at the approach of winter, the country is desolate, and stripped of its most beautiful ornaments, it still presents to a properly organized mind the image of happiness. We may say with gratitude, here we have seen the corn grow, and these dry fields clothed with abundant harvests; and though the orchards and gardens are now deserted, the remembrance of the presents which we have received from them inspires us with joy, though we are exposed to the influence of the north wind. The fruit-trees have shed their leaves, the grass of the meadows is withered, dark clouds gather in the sky, the rain falls in heavy showers, the roads are impaired, and walking is impracticable. The man who has no resources in himself murmurs at this change, but the philosopher contemplates it with satisfaction. The dry leaves and withered grass, moistened by the autumnal rain, form a rich manure to fertilize the land. This consideration, and the sweet expectation of spring, naturally ought to excite our gratitude for the tender cares of our Creator, and inspire us with a perfect confidence in him. Whilst the earth has lost its beauty and external charms, and is exposed to the murmurs of those it has nourished and delighted, it has commenced its labours anew, and is busily employed in secret working for the future good of the creation.

OCTOBER XXVII.

Magnificence of God displayed in the Creation, 'GOD has manifested himself in the creation as a being infinitely wise.' There is no creature, however useless it may appear, which has not its particular destination, and all are formed in that way which is best adapted to answer the purposes of their existence. This is at least the case with all those with which we are acquainted, and by analogy we may conclude it is the same with those that we do not know. If we begin with the sun, and descend to the smallest plant, we shall be obliged to acknowledge that, to be properly adapted to the end for which they are designed, these creatures could not be formed otherwise; and that for the

purpose they are to answer they have no defect. The least parts of every creature are evidently appropriate to its destination; they accomplish the functions prescribed to them by nature; and were any of its parts to be taken away, the whole animal would be imperfect, and unable to fulfil the end of its existence. How wonderful is that whole which results from the connexion and relation which all creatures have with each other! Each is in its place, each has its proper functions, and these are essential to the perfection of the whole; neither could any of them be wanting, or imperfect, without more or less disorder resulting.

If, then, we represent to ourselves the Being who has formed this innumerable multitude of creatures, animate and inanimate; who has not only designed each of them to fill up certain places in the creation, but who has also disposed and arranged all their parts in a manner the best adapted to their ends, without any thing superfluous, with. out any thing defective; who, by the inclination of an immense number of individuals, has altogether formed a whole, where the most perfect harmony reigns, shall we not be struck with admiration, and pronounce with reverential awe, 'O the depth of the wisdom and the knowledge of God!'

'God has manifested himself in the creation as a being infinitely wise.' He has every where diffused life and motion. How numerous are the animated beings his beneficent hand has produced! From the beginning of the world man has always laboured to become acquainted with the different beings that inhabit the earth, and to this day he continues to discover new species which were before unknown. Life is a blessing, even to the meanest worm that crawls on the earth; what pleasure, then, must the Almighty derive from doing good, since he has bestowed upon so many creatures the felicity of existence. But of what use would life be, if it was destroyed as soon as created? The Creator has taken care that every creature shall live long enough to fulfil the end of its creation. He has assigned to each the place it is to inhabit, and every individual is provided, immediately upon its entering the world, with all that is necessary to the preservation of its life. Many animals bring with them into the world the instinct and degree of industry necessary to enable them to obtain