could not live; and fire, water, and air, are indispensably necessary to the preservation of the terrestrial globe.

There is, then, an indissoluble bond between all the various beings, animate as well as inanimate, which compose our globe; and philosophers have demonstrated that this globe itself has its necessary connecting links with the sun, the moon, and the whole creation. And to combine this immense multitude of different beings and substances, so as to form one complete whole, could only be effected by Omnipotent Wisdom. This alone could unite together so many millions of different creatures, and link them in such a manner that they should be continually connected, and mutually support each other.

That we may not be perplexed and confounded by the immensity of the universe, let us for the present confine our attention to our own globe, which is one of the most inconsiderable parts of the universe. The wisdom that we shall there discover may lead us to form some idea of that which is manifest in the rest of the creation. Let us begin with considering what is immediately before our eyes. If we examine the animal kingdom as to the relations it bears to the rest of nature, and reflect upon the wants which are common to all animals, we shall be struck with the admirable harmony that reigns throughout. Warmth, air, water, and light, are all indispensably necessary for the preservation of these creatures; but they must be administered in a just proportion: too much or too little would be equally prejudicial, and destructive of the order of nature. A great increase of heat would be fatal to all living creatures; for if our earth, taken as a whole, received more heat from the sun, in every climate the summer must necessarily be hotter than it now is; and experience teaches us that in all countries the heat is sometimes so great, that if it was only increased in a very small degree, either in intensity or duration, animals would die, and vegetables be parched up. On the contrary, if we had less heat we should not fare better; since at present the cold is sometimes so severe, that animals are often frozen to death.

The earth, then, receives from the sun that proportion of heat which is best adapted to the state of all living creatures, and any other degree of temperature might be prejudicial to them. As exact a proportion is also observed

with regard to air. The rising of vapours principally depends upon the heaviness of the air, and the descent of rain upon its lightness. If the air was not capable of being condensed and alternately rarefied, of becoming at one time heavy, at another light, we should not have that diversity of temperature so necessary to the vegetation of plants and the life of animals. If the air was usually heavier than it is, it would be more charged with vapours, clouds, and fogs; and from its great humidity would be unwholesome, and injurious to plants and animals. If, on the contrary, it was lighter, vapours would not ascend, nor collect in form of clouds. It is the same every where: nature always observes a just medium: as all the elements are arranged in that manner which is best fitted for the preservation of animals, they are also in perfect harmony with all other natural things. The air is not only the medium in which those variations of temperature so necessary are produced; it is also the medium of sound, and has been appropriated to our ear; thus manifesting the operation of a marvellous wisdom: for if the air had been more or less elastic, denser or more rare, than it actually is, the ear would have suffered in consequence; and the human voice, now so sweet and harmonious, would have been more like the report of thunder, or the hissing of serpents. The air also contributes to the circulation of the blood, and penetrates into the smallest vessels. There are numerous other relations between the air and different beings; and in every instance it has all the properties that each requires.

If, then, we consider that many thousand species of plants and animals have an equal want of air, heat, and light; that each of these species is different from all the rest, that each has its certain and peculiar characteristics, that it is weaker or stronger than others, and that, notwithstanding this, the elements are equally well adapted to all, and sufficient to supply so many and such different wants; we must acknowledge that a boundless wisdom, which yields to no difficulties, has alone established the foundation of the universal connection and wonderful harmony that reign throughout nature, and link together every being in the firm bonds of union.

In fine, every thing in nature is weighed, measured, and numbered, and destined to certain purposes. Not only the

trees which rise so majestically, the plants which have such beautiful forms, the fields and the fertile meadows, the horse that renders us so many faithful services, the flocks which feed and clothe us, the mines that yield us ornaments and riches, the sea that supplies our table with the choicest luxuries, and which floats our navy to either pole, the stars which shine upon the earth; not only all these brilliant productions of nature, but the humblest mosses, insects, and shell-fish, combine in the general sum of perfection.

Infinitely powerful Being! Creator and Preserver of all things! Can I contemplate these objects without thinking of thee, and reverencing thy wisdom? Without thee all would be darkness, confusion, and disorder; without thy salutary influence there would be no order, harmony, or pleasure in the earth. It is thy wisdom which beautifies, enriches, and preserves all; it vivifies and renders happy all the creation; and henceforth, and for ever, shall be the subject of my songs. I will unceasingly bless thee, O God, and sing hymns of praise to thy honour; for unto thee appertains all wisdom, power, and glory.

NOVEMBER III.

Reflections upon the Summer which is passed. THE fine summer days are now gone, and, except the sweet remembrance of our having once enjoyed them, have only left us emblems of frailty. How all the face of nature is changed! The rays of the sun faintly pass through the gloomy clouds, and fall upon gardens stripped of flowers, upon fields where scarcely any traces of cultivation remain, and upon hills where only a few scattered herbs are seen. The soft melody of the birds no longer floats on the air; and the mournful silence which universally prevails is only interrupted by the croaking of ravens, and the shrill cries of birds of passage, which leave us while they seek more temperate climes. The neighbouring mountains are de serted; the flocks have forsaken them; the bleating of lambs is not heard; and the flower beds in our gardens are laid waste. How dull and gloomy are the fields which lately were so beautiful! Their delightful verdure is suc

ceeded by a melancholy aspect, and their charms are withered. The clouds are heavy with rain, and thick mists veil the morning sun.

Such are the prospects which nature now presents; and, who can contemplate them without thinking upon the frailty and uncertainty of all earthly things? The fine days are no more; even whilst we were anxious to enjoy them they fled away. But have we a right to murmur at, or to question the dispensations of, Providence? Certainly not. Let us rather call to mind those delightful summer days, and the innocent pleasures we then enjoyed, and we shall bless and adore the God of the seasons. What sweet sensations have we not experienced, what pure joys have visited our souls, when we contemplated the beauties of nature; when we watched the mountains and the valleys gradually become green; when the carols of the lark were heard among the clouds, and the plaintive melody of the nightingale stole upon the breeze, or poured along the groves; when we inhaled the fragrant breath of the flowers; when Aurora, rising from her rosy bed, smiled upon nature, and diffused around her joy and festivity; or when the forests and the hills glowed with the parting rays of the sun, retired beneath the western main! How rich are the presents we have received from the gardens, the fields, and the orchards! How exquisite the raptures of our imagination, and the pleasure of our senses! And can we think of the lovely months that are past without experiencing the sweetest emotions, and blessing the great Parent of nature, who has crowned the year with his blessings?

We now live upon the gifts of summer and autumn. We have seen with what activity nature laboured in those delightful seasons, to accomplish the beneficent views of the Creator in favour of man. How many plants and flowers has not the spring caused to bud; how many fruits has not the summer ripened; and how many harvests are gathered in autumn! At present the earth has completed her designs for this year, and is now going to enjoy a short repose.

Thus nature is continually active during the greatest part of the year; and even during the time of her apparent cessation from labour is not entirely idle, but is secretly preparing for a new creation. Let us ask ourselves the question, Have we been equally industrious? Have we so

employed our time as to produce fruits? The husbandman now counts his sheaves; and shall we not be able to reckon some virtues, some good works? Have the pleasures of summer rendered us better, and more grateful? Have we, whilst contemplating the beauties of nature, lifted our hearts towards God? What have been our occupations during the long summer days? Have they contributed to the glory of God and the welfare of our fellow-creatures? While contemplating the sun, the flowers, and all that is in. teresting in nature, have we experienced such sentiments as the view of so magnificent a spectacle ought to excite? And can we testify that this summer, like many others, has not been lost upon us?

We are still blessed with life, and enjoy the power of re flecting upon the spring and the summer which are just departed; but since the first dawning of spring, ere the summer sun looked down upon the earth, how many souls have passed from these regions of day into the dreary confines of death! It is right, O Lord, that we, whom in thy merciful condescension thou yet permittest to draw the breath of life, should bless thee for our existence. But the period hastens when we shall also depart; perhaps we shall never behold the bloom of another summer. Let each one of us, then, seriously reflect upon the account he will have to give, when called upon, of the days which we have passed, and supplicate the God of mercy not to enter into judgment with us.

NOVEMBER IV.

Inconvenience of the Night.

AT this season the nights become considerably longer, and certainly this arrangement is in some respects unpleasant. Though a part of the night is allotted to strengthen and refresh us by sleep, this very operation is a proof of our weak and frail nature. At the commencement of night all our labours are interrupted, not only from the want of light, out equally as much from the necessity of reposing our wearied nature, and recruiting our exhausted strength.

It is, then, by no means extraordinary, that the nights appear long and tedious when we are restless and sleep