embosomed in nature's sweetest treasures. The creation smiles to him, and joy gilds his glad moments; whether reclining in the evening shade, or brushing with hasty steps the morning dew. Pleasure springs for him from every fountain; every flower yields its charms, and every grove welcomes him to its hallowed shade. For him wild concerts warble in the air; and his mind, serene as a summer's day, knows no corroding, heart-consuming care: his affections. are pure as the untainted breath of morn, sweet as the dewwashed flowers in the beauties of nature he sees his God, and to him devotes his willing soul.

AUGUST X.

Mischiefs caused by Animals.

IT is distressing to see some of the finest productions of nature exposed to the ravages of animals. Every summer we observe the mischievous effects of the rapacity of birds and insects in the vegetable kingdom! How many trees are destroyed, and fruits consumed, by worms and caterpillars ! And how much necessary sustenance we are deprived of by the insatiable sparrow and greedy raven! These and similar complaints are often uttered by men who seem to imagine that certain animals only exist to torment mankind. It is true, there is some foundation for such complaints; and it must be granted that some creatures do occasion much mischief. It is more easy to exterminate wolves, lions, and other wild beasts, than to extirpate insects, whose numerous swarms cover a whole country. In Peru a species of ant called chako is a terrible scourge to the inhabitants; and their lives would be endangered if they did not use precautions to get rid of these formidable insects. The devastation made by caterpillars on our fruit trees, and by mice in our fields, is well known,

But however great these inconveniences may be, they do not authorize such bitter complaints as some people make. We are pleased to see the animals which are mischievous to us destroy one another; we think we may without injustice deprive animals of life, either for our food or any other purpose; but we cannot bear that they should take

any thing from us. But have we more right to take away the life of a gnat, than it has to take a drop of our blood? Besides, in complaining of the voracity of animals, we do not consider that this árrangement of nature is not so disadvantageous as it may at first sight appear. To be convinced of this, we have only to consider the animal kingdom in an enlarged point of view. We shall then find, that many species of animals, birds, or insects, apparently hurtful, are on the contrary of great utility. Several years ago, the inhabitants of the then English colonies of America endeavoured to extirpate the tribe of jays, because they ima. gined that these birds did great injury to the corn. But the number of jay's was scarcely diminished, when immense numbers of worms, caterpillars, &c. ravaged their corn-fields. They immediately stopped the persecution of the jays; whose numbers again increasing, soon put an end to the plague, the consequence of their destruction.

Some time ago a project was formed in Sweden to destroy all the crows; but it was observed, that these birds were not only fond of seeds and plants, but they devoured a great number of worms and caterpillars, which live upon the leaves and roots of vegetables.

In North America great exertions were used to drive away the sparrow tribe; and in consequence of their success, the flies and goats multiplied to such a degree in the marshy countries, that large tracts of land were left uncultivated.

Pheasant-hunting is so considerable in the island of Procita, that the king of Naples prohibited the use of cats to the inhabitants. In a few years the rats and mice becoming extremely numerous, caused so much mischief, that his Neapolitan majesty was obliged to revoke his decree for the annihilation of cats.

Why should we be so selfish as to wish to deprive animals of the provisions necessary for their subsistence? Are we able ourselves to consume all the fruits of the earth? And do we find any deficiency in our sustenance or our pleasures, because birds, insects, and a few animals, partake with us of the blessings which God has so bountifully bestowed, and of which a part must spoil if these creatures did not make use of it? Instead then of indulging in unjust complaints, let us rather acknowledge the wisdom of our

Creator. Every thing is connected in the vast kingdom of nature; no creature is useless, or placed there without an end, though we are ignorant of the destination of many animals. It is sufficient that they exist, for us to suppose that they are created for the wisest purposes.

Thus, the consideration of the apparent disorders and imperfections of nature leads us to God, who has created nothing in vain, who preserves nothing without reason, and who, when he permits any thing to be destroyed, does not do it without some useful design. If we were sufficiently convinced of these truths, all the works of God would excite us to glorify and to bless his Divine power and good

ness.

AUGUST XI.

Variety of Colours.

WHEN we consider how dull and gloomy our fields and gardens would be, and how indistinct every object would appear, were there only one colour, we must acknowledge the wise goodness of God, who by causing such a diversity of hues, has increased and varied our pleasures. Objects which are designed to be seen at a distance are painted in glowing colours, and are striking by their grandeur; such are the heavens: whilst those objects which we can contemplate nearer, as birds, flowers, &c. have a peculiar lightness, fineness, delicacy, and elegance.

But whence proceeds the difference of colours? Each ray of light appears to be simple, but by refraction it is divided into several, and hence arises the diversity of colours. A glass filled with water, and exposed to the sun, reflects certain colours upon white paper; and angular glasses, or prisms, reflect still more vivid colours. By holding a prism towards the sun, we may see the colours of the most beautiful rainbow; or it may be done by receiving a ray of light on the prism, through a small hole in the windowshutter of a room closely shut. As the refraction of the rays is more or less strong, the colours will be more or less vivid. The most refrangible ray is the violet, and conse quently it is the weakest. Next to it is the indigo; then the

blue, next the green, then the yellow, next orange; and lastly the red, which is the least refrangible of all.

The nature of coloured bodies contributes much to the diversity of their colours. The smallest particles of most bodies are transparent; hence they break, absorb, or reflect, the rays of light, sometimes one way and sometimes another, like prisms. And what completely proves that colours are not inherent in bodies is, that the neck and plumage of a pigeon or peacock; and stuffs, such as taffetas and other silk stuffs, &c.; change colour according to the position in which they are placed. This may enable us to understand whence the variety of colours proceeds; which is nothing more than that the surface of bodies is composed of extremely thin lamine, which, according to their thickness, reflect certain coloured rays, whilst they admit or absorb others in their pores. Thus, when a body whose surface is smooth reflects and throws back almost all the rays of light, it appears white; but when it absorbs them all, it is black.

Let us here admire the goodness and wisdom of God; for, if the rays were not divisible and differently coloured, all would be uniform, and we could only distinguish objects by reasoning, and by the circumstances of time and place. We should be reduced to the most awkward perplexity and uncertainty; our eyes would be fatigued with constantly seeing one colour, and we should be weary of the continued uniformity. But the diversity of colours existing in nature diffuses beauty over the earth, and procures new and repeated variety of pleasure. In this we have abundant proof of the provident cares of God; who has provided for our pleasures as well as our necessities, and in creating the world has regarded the beauty as much as the perfection and utility of his works. Far as the eye can reach, we discover new and varied beauties in the plains, in the valleys, and the mountains; every thing conduces to our pleasure, and calls forth our gratitude,

AUGUST XII.

Habitations of the Beavers.

If a man who had never heard of the industry of beavers, and their manner of building their dwellings, were shewn

the edifices which they construct, he would suppose them to be the work of some most skilful architects. Every thing is wonderful in the labours of these amphibious animals; the regular plan, the size, the solidity, and the admirable art, of their buildings, must fill every attentive observer with astonishment. The beavers choose their place of abode where there is a plentiful supply of provisions, and a river in which they may form a lake to bathe in. They begin by constructing a dyke or bank, which keeps the water level with the first floor of their building: this bank is sometimes a prodigious work, from ten to twelve feet thick at the foundation; it is made sloping, and gradually diminishes in thickness, till, towards the top, it is not more than two feet broad. The materials of which it is composed are wood and clay. The beavers cut pieces of wood as thick as a man's arm with great facility. They fix these in the earth by one of their extremities, very near to each other, and entwine round them other pieces that are smaller and more flexible. But as the water may still pass through, and leave their watering-place dry, they make use of clay to fill up all the interstices both within and without, so well, that the water cannot possibly flow through; and in proportion as the water rises, they raise their bank..

Having finished their dyke, they begin to work at their houses; which are round or oval buildings divided into three stories, raised one above the other, one of which is below the dyke and generally filled with water, the other two are above. They fix these buildings very firmly upon the brink of their lake, and always with stories, that if the water should rise, they may still be able to lodge above it. If they find a little island near their watering-place, they build their house upon it, as being more firm; and they are also less incommoded by the water, in which they cannot remain long at a time. If this convenience is not to be obtained, with the assistance of their teeth they force stakes into the earth to support their building against the force of wind and water. They make two openings at the bottom to go out into the water; one leads to the place where they bathe, the other to the place where they deposit whatever might dirty their upper apartments. They have a third door, placed higher up, for fear of being taken when the ice closes up the lower doors. Sometimes they build their houses en