It will form two octavo volumes, illus. trated with a map of the country. This work has obtained high reputation. The author, a native of Chili, and for a long time resident in that country, is eminently distinguished as a writer, and a natural philosopher. Whether considered in relation to its natural productions, or its civil and military transactions, Chili affords an interesting subject for the historian. Blessed with a most salubrious and delightful climate, with a soil wonderfully fertile, and adapted to the productions of almost every country, rich in mines of gold and silver, it offers to the naturalist a wide field of curious research. To the moral philosopher it also furnishes a subject still more interesting from the character of its original inhabitants, the brave and hardy Araucanians., Their gallant and successful resistance to the best disciplined troops of Spain, then in the me ridian of her military glory, and their firm support of their national indepen. dence, exhibit a picture novel, highly impressive, and strongly contrasted with that of the other American nations. This work will also be reprinted in England.

The French Board of Longitude, having appointed a committee of its members, to examine and calculate, with the greatest care, the observations relative to the continuation of the meridian in Spain, as far as the Balearic isles, they have delivered in a report containing the results of their labours.

The new measurement reaches from Fort Montjuy, at Barcelona, to the small island of Formentera, in the Mediterranean. The extent of the arc in the direction of the meridian, from the sig. nal-post of Matas to that of Formentera, is 315,552 metres. As the whole of it is on the sea, it was measured by a series of triangles along the coast of Spain, from Barcelona to the kingdom of Va lencia, and joining the coast of Valencia to the islands by an immense triangle, one of the sides of which is more than 160,000 metres (or 82,555 toises) in length. At such distances day signals would have been invisible; they there. fore had recourse to night-signals formed by reflecting lamps, with a current of air, which were kept lighted at the different stations from sun set to sun rise. The angles were measured with

a large repeating circle of the workman. ship of Lenoir, adding every practicable kind of verification. The triangu lation was begun in the winter of 1806; that being the only season of the year when the weather is sufficiently clear for the observing of large triangles.At the close of the summer of 1807 all the geodetic operations were finished.

The latitude of Formentera, the southernmost point of the arc, was ascertained that winter by means of 2,558 observations of the polar star, in which they used one of Fortin's repeating circles with a fixed level. The greatest deviation of the partial series, from the mean of the whole, is four sexagesima! seconds; and this happens only twice in a contrary direction. In all the other series the extreme aberration is two seconds. These deviations are the same that Bradley found in his researches on the mutation, in making observations near the zenith with large sectors. They seem to be owing to the variety of refractions produced by the changing forms of the layers of clouds. But from their smallness we may confidently conclude, that the latitude laid down from a mean of all the observations is exact.

This latitude in decimal degrees, or in grades, is 42,961777 That of Dunkirk, observed by Delambre, and laid down only from the observations of the polar star, is - 56,760632

Difference, or arc of the meridian between Dunkirk and Fermentera

13-744$75 From the results stated in this report, it appears, that the new measurement of the meridian in Spain confirms and gives additional certainty to the metre, by rendering it almost independent of the flattening of the earth. This are being joined to the meridian of France, presents an arc of nearly 14 grades, ly. ing at an equal distance from the equator and the pole;' and in the different points of which the latitudes, the azi muths, and the variations of gravity, have been observed; and which, on ac. count of its length, its situation, and the exactness of the means employed, may be justly pronounced the most perfect operation of the kind that ever was ext. cuted.

POETRY

LINES, Written beneath the Brow of ARTHUR'S

SEAT.

FRIEND to the man whom melancholy

marks

For that lone path which few are found to trace,

But few to relish, save the chosen band,
Whom Genius fires with pure extatic flame,
And far above th' ignoble crowd exalts,
Nature, all pow'rful nature, be my theme!
Thy beauties ever shall be deeply felt,
Whilst, nobly great, the philosophic mind,
Of contemplation, high prerogative!
Shall well distinguish man; to him alone
Fair reason manifests a hand divine;
Through all thy works shall captivating
charms

More justly exercise the nobler gift? Can man more justly feel th' expansive glow,

And own the rising transport? happy cause! And shall th' enraptur'd mind forbear to dwell

On scenes where every landscape can disclose

A thousand beauties to demand its praise? Ye verdant fields, ye lov'd, though distant spires;

Learning, thy favor'd seat! ye sylvan glades, Where first in pensive mood I lov'd to sing The joys ye gave, to recollection dear!

Still fondly cherish'd in the frequent thought Of many grateful sons, fresh on the mindReverting oft, breathe in my humble lay, Again direct my thought to mark the

scenes

Which, to the painter, give conception bold, And contemplation to the peaceful sage; Where nature's deep explorer loves to rove, In meditation wrapt, where the rude mirth Of happy swains imparts a gladness round.

Say, ye who toil for wealth, untaught to The gen'rous glow that nobler scenes infeel,

vite,

Could not the solemn stillness far diffus'd, That floats the tresses of the ev'ning hour, Mould to the plastic feeling every heart: Has not the rustic lay, amid the hills, Resounding, soften'd from the placid vale, Breath'd purer balsam to the wounded mind

Than wealth can give? say, has no happier time, Contentment, smiling thro' the shepherd's lot,

Some faint rude outline of a better scheme Display'd, though undefin'd, some purer thought,

Some plan, though strange, to virtue near allied.

'Tis hence the deep drawn inspiration springs, Of heav'nly love, and hence the great resolve,

The plans of better life, the fervid thought For patriot argument, the dewy tear Whate'er adorns, improves, or heightens Of pitying zeal, compassion's tender love!

life,

Is to the rural solitude well known.

Quick in the sense of right, the hate of

wrong,

Prompt to forgive, 'twas here the good man The sacred duties of a christian life.

drew

On reason's canvas, here he oft would trace
The varied tint of rosy-finger'd morn,
To all the majesty of day arose
As on the christian rising; then, afar,

The grateful thought:--and thus the picture glow'd,

Till, as conception more sublimely bent, Would cast a rapid thought, and fervent gaze

#

At brighter beams, as if a lustre shed
Of more than mortal seeming, born of peace,
Had glanc'd on earth, and kiss'd the high
design,
Eugenio was a solitary man!

Ye Groves, that to my aching sight more dear arise,

Thou Sun, that rul'st by day, and thou pale Moon,

Displaying nightly wonders without end,
To thee 1 yield my renovated praise,
To thee the pious accents shall belong!
Taught

seek

Another's woes, and shew the gen'ral good; Nor shall thy tow'rs, Edina, vainly warm The gen'rous heart, for, long as impulse true,

Untaught by prejudice to yield, can boast The judgement free, thy gifts shall ever live

Dear to remembrance; as thy patient sons
Draw science from her gay abode, and scan
The simple wildness of the Border Lay.
Obscure, unhonor'd, yet I love thee still,
Hence shall the poet's genius warm arise,
And reason, borrowing manlier beams from
thee,

Assume a bolder flight; affirming truth,
The love of social order shall inspire
With purer ecstacy, the hallow'd theme,
When, nature's truth in admiration mark'd,
Claims from the philosophic eye its gaze.
Hence, taught by many a bard of old to

souls,

nion gives

For the PERTHSHIRE Florist and Vegetable Society.

(Tune,-Woo'd and Married an' a'.) LANG syne, whan sweet Perth was a meadow,

And Bertha

near Almond did stand, Then farmin' was ta'en little heed o',

They ken'd na the worth o' the land;
Our auld fashion'd fathers they tell us,

They had but sma' pieces o't till'd;
The maist o't was mountains and vallies,
Save maybe a handie bit field.
Bogs, an' bushes, an' a';
Haughs, an' meadows, an' a';
Their gaits, an' their sheep, an' their
cattle,

Wild staggies, wild fillies, an' a'.

The tenants o' sic sober mailens
Could pay little rent to their lairds;
The gentry thought then birkin palins

Did brawly around their kail yard.
Brick dikes war na then i' the fashion;
Hot-houses they had nane ava;
There grew ne'er a fruit i' the nation,
That wantit the help o' a wa'.

Grozzers, an' rizzers, an' a';
Bram'les, blaeberries, an' a';
Content wi' the growth o' the island
Our daddies were couthie an' braw.

Sin' bonny Miss Science (they ca'd her)
Cam' hither this kintry to view,
An' said she wad stay, if they bade her,

In Perth, wi' the lads o' the blue,
Pomona an' Flora gat notice,

An' soon cam a visit to pay, An' mony fair babie they've brought us, To busk the sweet banks o' the Tay. Melons, pine apples, an' a'; Geranums, carnations, an' a'; We'll nurse them wi' care an' wi kindness,

Then wha can e'er wyle them awa'

An' now, since Pomona an' Flora

Delight in the banks o' the Tay,
We'll cultivate a' their sweet graces,

Sae far's they may fa' in our way.
We'll shade them in sultry hot weather;

We'll fend them frae frost an' the snaw;
Syne feast on the fruits o' the simmer,
Tho' Boreas, in winter, may blaw.

Bertha, the original name of Perth,

Or

Orchards, an' gardens, an' a'; Forcin', an' framin', an' a'; We'll rival the lads about Lon'on . Wi' Flora, Pomona, an' a'.

The noblest an' best o' our country,
Admirin' our progress and plan,
Have tender'd such proofs o' their bounty
As merit our thanks to a man;
Then joyfully drink to their honours,

Sure nate o' us here can do less,
Sae lang's we ha'e them for our donors
We weel may depend on success.

Nobles, an' gentry, an' a';
Magistrates, merchants, an' a';
Sae lang as we prove oursels wordy,
Their favours they'll never with-
draw.

44

'Tis our's to be tendin' our flowers.
Roses, an' lillies, an' a';
Daisies, an' violets, an' a';
Sae what a profusion o' beauty
An' sweetness a garden can shaw.

As weel as the spade an' the plough; Their progress is past my descrivin', In justice to gi'e them their due."

Now drink to our army an' navy,

Success baith by land an' by sea; Likewise to our commerce and craftsmen, With artists of every degree. Look round you, an' see how they're thri

vin'

Farmin', an' fencin', an' a'; Ploughin', an' plantin', an' a'; Beha'd how our kintry's improvin', An' poverty wearin' awa'.

Lords of the main, in triumph as ye ride, Be NELSON's fame your glory and your guide,

INSCRIPTION ON NELSON. THIS fabric, sacred to a nation's tears, TO NELSON's deathless name his country fears.

Not on frail stone his victories to record;
Not with vain praise his merits to reward;
But, all they can, their gratitude to shew,
With honours, such as mortals can bestow,
Long as one son of Britain shall survive,
Graved on his heart shall NELSON's memo-
ry live!

Pious to heaven, and bountiful as brave,
Not more his joy to conquer than to save;
His God alone his virtues could repay,
And rais'd the hero to immortal day.
And ye, brave SAILORS, Britain's noble
bands,
The boast and bulwark of these sea-girt

lands:

1

A life, a death like his, your envied doom, And all an Empire weeping o'er your tomb.

away;

And thus absorb'd the cup of fancy drink. Borne on her wing, I'd quickly overtake Ages, so long elaps'd, now quite forgot: My powers of observation would awake, And mark how various changes round were brought:

How rig'rous youth would try th'athle

tic feat.

Not only these have seen thy happy days, But royal pomp beneath thy roof has dwelt; When this the pensive soul intent surveys, She joy derives which rustics never felt. (Methinks I see her at the close of day Traversing slow thy orchard's fruitful ground,

Pensively listening to the roundelay,
Or viewing nature's charms display'd a-
round.

Whom do I see upon yon lofty tow'r,
So early risen to meet the rising sun?
'Tis Mary's self, sweet as the morning flow'r,
Contemplating his glorious course begun.
Ah! hapless woman, doom'd ere while, I

ween,

To know the malice of a treacherous friend, Oh! could I then have liv'd, and then fore

seen

What now I know, and what did then porrend, With rapt'rous joy the Queen of Scots I'd sav'd

From clutches of her deep-designing foe, A pow'rful sovereign's rancour would have brav'd

To keep an exil'd sovereign from the blow.
But not for such as me could this have been,
In humble life my present lot is set;
And let me not repine, for thus unseen,
Unknown, I 'scape the miseries of the great.
Had'st thou a lowly shepherd's hut been
hight,

No sad ideas ever had'st thou rais'd; Then might thy mud-built walls, obscure ar night,

Have stood unminded, unreproach'd, er prais'd

Excuse these lines, unworthy of the themeAlas! my muse ill-versed in rueful strains, With vivid thoughts unable yet to gleam, But ill the honour'd task as yet sustains. While wand'ring often to thy site with drawn,

The veil-wrapt scenes of former days reveal, That pleasant sadness, from the morning dawn,

Till even's advent, may my senses steal And may such subjects teach me how to prize

All earthly joys, which pass away like wind; And may my raptur'd soul surmount the skies,

J

There heavenly, everlasting joys, to find.

7. G. S

Lauriston, S0th Sept, 1808.

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