exhalations from the earth, met and fructified and organized by various elements descending from on high, how happens it that men are not created after this fashion in modern, as well as in the primeval, ages of the world? For although he holds that man, once formed in this manner, had the power of propagating their kind, yet, as the same exhalations are still raised from the earth as in the days before the flood, and the same elements are still coming down from heaven, we should suppose, that if the theory were correct, its practical consequences would still be visible.

The author next proceeds to treat of man as a civilized being, and gives a very charming picture of his progress in art, from the rudest beginnings to the most specious miracles of his ingenuity,from the hut to the palace. This subject leads him to that of the division of property, and of labour, liberty, slavery, the arts of modelling, moulding, chasing, carving, painting, pantomime and the drama, the art of language, oral and written, arithmetic, algebra, money, and the different forms of government. To these varied topics succeeds that of religion, of the origin and progress of which he gives a brief and spirited account, in which, however, we must observe, parts of the Old Testament are characterized merely as the writings of Moses, and frequent sneers are indulged against the angels and prophets of the Hebrews. The nature and causes of evil next occupy the attention of the author. Evil he considers to have had its origin in physical causes, and not, as the Scriptures say, in the sin of Eve; and, in support of this opinion, he traces the revolutions which this globe would appear to have undergone, before it was fit for the reception of rational or even sentient beings. Upon this part of the subject the author has many peculiar and some very fine ideas. He holds that our globe was formerly situated much nearer to other planets and to the sun, than it is at present, the proof of which is, that the remains of vegetables and animals, which are known to thrive only in the tropics, have been found near the poles. It would appear, also, that the earth had been nearer to and more pressed upon by other planets, from the traces of violently agitated seas, which are to be found upon our highest mountains. It is the author's opinion, also, that the rotation of the globe round its own axis was originally perpendicular to the plane of its orbit round the sun, and that its declination from that movement, to its present oblique one, was caused by the passage near it of some planet or comet. After showing the connexion that exists between the physical character of the earth and physical and moral evil, the author proceeds to develope, at some length, the principal doctrine of his whole system, which teaches, that all mankind are hereafter to be united in one single individual, -and to answer the objections that might be brought against it. Amongst these we naturally are startled at first by the question, are the good to be united with the bad, the Lucretias with the Messalinas, all the sinners with all the saints? This question the

author answers affirmatively, for he maintains unequivocally that God is the author of all the actions of men, that therefore they are not responsible for them, and that therefore there will be no punishment hereafter, but eternal happiness for all! This is the grand conclusion at which he arrives, and here his work may be properly said to have reached its termination. But by way of increasing the interest of his volumes, he adds a few chapters upon the natural and acquired characters of some of the higher human races, as he calls them, and upon the subject of beauty. These chapters display, as usual, a most extensive course of reading and habits of profound thought. It was his intention to have treated those topics more at large; but he had already received warnings which urged him to abridge his labours as much as possible. Time, however,' he observes, in a spirit of philosophy that almost resembles religion, begins to run short: my hour-glass empties fast. Obliged to hold myself in readiness for my own no longer very distant departure from this irksome scene of bustle and disquiet, I shall not tarry long on the detail of these incidental contemplations.'

1831.

ART. VII.-Letters to a Young Naturalist on the Study of Nature, and Natural Theology. By James L. Drummond, M. D. Professor of Anatomy and Physiology in the Belfast Academical Institution, &c. &c. 12mo. pp. 342. London: Longman & Co. AMONGST the many improvements which a more diffused and liberal system of education is every where producing around us, there are none to be contemplated with greater satisfaction, than those which serve to render mankind familiarly conversant with the works of nature. It is, indeed, truly wonderful that those works, enchanting above all the miracles of art for their number, their variety, their beauty, and their harmony, should ever have been neglected in any nation, whether savage or civilized. Were we to awake in the middle of the night, and looking out upon the sky to see it illumined for the first time by the full moon, we should remain to gaze upon it with intense admiration, and follow it with trembling delight through its path in the heavens, until it faded away from our eyes in the lustre of morning. How astonished should we not be, were we, in like manner, to behold but once or twice in our lives, the myriads of worlds, which we call stars, suspended in the canopy of azure, that spreads above us, like so many golden fires, to light and beautify our world. To descend to lesser things, what should we think, if now, for the first time in the course of ages, the summer were heralded by groups of those winged insects, which, under the name of butterflies, shine in all the colours of the rainbow, and perform their evolutions with so much apparent enjoyment among the flowers which ornament our gardens and our fields? We should be lost in astonishment at the uniform elegance and taste, the variety and splendour of the style in which their

wings are painted. But were we enabled to learn, by studying their history, that all these bright and happy creatures had been, but some little week or two before, nothing more than the dull wretchedlooking caterpillars, which devoured the leaves of our fruit trees, and crawled along in our paths, the objects of our pity or contempt, we should be electrified by the discovery, and feel that we were, indeed, living in a sacred place, a place of mysteries and of influences beyond our comprehension-the laboratory of an Almighty power, in which every thing bears witness to His presence.

And can these salutary, these gratifying feelings of admiration, of astonishment, of conviction that we inhabit a land of mystery, never be produced, because we may behold the moon and stars almost every night, and because, from childhood upwards, we have seen the butterfly, and perhaps know a little of its history? Is it an unavoidable consequence of our familiarity with natural objects, that they have no attractions for us, and can afford us neither entertainment nor instruction? No one will answer these questions in the affirmative, who has the good fortune to be initiated even in the elements of natural history. We do not speak of those persons who make nature the study of their lives, and are perfect masters of all her productions. The labour which such persons undergo in the pursuit of their object is very considerable; but it is as nothing compared with the pure pleasures which they enjoy. It is not, however, necessary, in order to taste those pleasures to a certain degree, that we should be skilled in the construction of every plant, the anatomy of every bird, the habits of every insect, which we behold. The only condition which nature exacts, as the price of the gratification and mental improvement which her works can so abundantly yield, is simply a moderate attention to the ample volume which she has unfolded to man; a volume in which, if we may so say, the text is so peculiarly composed for his benefit, and so suited to his vision, that of all the myriads of eyes which look upon it, no eye but his can read, no mind save his, appreciate its sublime discourse.

It is, therefore, with a very lively satisfaction, that we undertake to recommend to the particular attention of the public, the letters which Dr. Drummond has just published. We know of no work, compressed within the same limits, which seems to us so happily calculated to generate in a young mind, to sustain in the matured, and to renovate in the old, an ardent love of nature under all her forms. The volume consists of a series of letters, in which the author treats, in a familiar style, of the most interesting objects which the fields, the mountains, the rivers, and the ocean, present to our contemplation. He goes into the history of each of those objects, just far enough to render the outlines of nature intelligible to the least cultivated mind, and he adds reflections, occasionally, of admiration, which, breathing his own feelings in eloquent language, are strongly calculated to excite kindred emotions in the hearts of others.

In a preceding article (on the Botanical Miscellany) we stated our regret, that the study of natural history was not generally made a necessary branch of education. Dr. Drummond expresses himself in almost similar terms, and very truly observes that, so far from children being encouraged to look upon the animals around them as objects formed by the Almighty, and, therefore, cared for by him as well as themselves, they are too often taught the unjust and pernicious lesson of destroying, and even, what is worse, tormenting all such unfortunate creatures as may fall into their hands.' Thus they trample on and cut up worms, tear off the wings of butterflies, torture beetles and moths, by running pins through them, without any sort of remorse. Above all, they feel a most heartless pleasure in robbing birds' nests, and in breaking the eggs for their amusement, which they could never have allowed themselves to do, if they had been instructed betimes, that those little productions which they thus wickedly destroy, are among the most wonderful objects in the universe. Who, on seeing the liquid which they contain, would suppose, if he had not been told, that if left to the care of the parent bird, it would, in due course of time, void of form and member as it might seem to his eye, be converted into a dove, a swan, or an eagle? To him there is no apparent difference in the liquid which fills different eggs; and yet one shall become a nightingale, to delight the woods with its amorous descant, another a peacock, to dazzle us with his golden plumage. Should we chance to wander on the banks of the Nile, we may there meet with a similar liquid, contained within a shell, which, when sufficiently matured by the sun, becomes a crocodile, clothed in a coat of armour of the most perfect construction, which is capable of resisting a musket bullet, and armed with a set of teeth, that render him the tyrant of the waters, on whose banks he is produced.

Even the crocodile's egg, however, and much more the creature into which it is transformed, should be to us an object of interest. We call it a monster; but we should know that it does not deserve that name if it be like the rest of its species, and pursue their general habits and propensities. Those animals to which, from ignorance or prejudice, we are apt to give the name of monsters, are miracles of creative power, and ought to be so considered. Toads and frogs, harmless though they be, and really very curious little beings in their conformation, we too often destroy for what we call their ugliness; whereas we should rather endeavour to make ourselves acquainted with their history, and learn the wonderful aptitude, which their organization possesses, for the habits of existence to which they are destined. Dr. Drummond's advice against the cruel and unjust treatment, which the weak and defenceless tribes of the creation very generally experience from mankind, cannot be too widely propagated.

"I hope you will learn better to appreciate the works of nature, than to destroy any thing without having a sufficient reason for so doing. Kill

nothing through mere wantonness or caprice; for such practices can only belong to an unfeeling and unamiable mind. If an object is to be gained worth the sacrifice, then let the animal die; but let its death be as easy as possible and if, for the sake of science, you must deprive animals of their being, make it a point otherwise to save all you can. In your evening walk avoid the snail that crosses your path: if a beetle lies sunning itself on the highway, where the next passing foot may trample on it, throw it out of danger over the hedge: if an insect is struggling in the water, save it from drowning: "and," perhaps you would say, "if a fly is uttering its death-cry in the embrace of a spider, save it from the clutches of the robber?" Surely not; the spider is committing no wanton, no unnecessary murder. You might with equal justice cut the net of the fisherman, and commit his capture to the deep. The spider may have had his net spread for weeks without success until now, and the fly you would rescue is as much a lawful prize as a trout hooked by the tackle of old Walton himself, with this difference, indeed, that the old piscator fished for amusement, but the spider entraps his prey for a livelihood, so that in depriving him of his fly, you might subject him to an additional three

weeks' fast.

By doing acts of humanity you may more than counterbalance the waste of life requisite for the completion of your cabinet or museum, if you form either; and it must be gratifying to a gentle and feeling disposi tion, such as I wish you to possess, to be able to say, with the authors of

that great work, the Introduction to Entomology, "for my own part, I question whether the drowning individuals which I have saved from destruction, would not far outnumber all that I ever sacrificed to science." -pp. 13, 14.

It would not be possible for men to treat the lower beings of creation with cruelty, or even to look upon them without interest and admiration, if natural history were more generally cultivated, and especially if it were taught and attended to, as Dr. Drummond insists it ought to be, as a part of natural religion.' This is a view of the subject which he entertains uniformly throughout his work, inculcating, that as a science it loses much of its intended value, if it be not attended with a constant reference to the Deity as the final cause of all things. The one (the science) may, to a certain degree, degenerate into a mere love for the curious, or have for its chief end and aim the perfection or improvement of some system of classification, without looking much further; the other (the constant reference to the Deity) must ever continue to ennoble our minds, to raise us every day to higher and higher conceptions of the power and wisdom of God; and to afford a happiness, as pure, perhaps, and as permanently exquisite, as man, in his present state of being, can possibly enjoy.'

There are some appearances in nature, the causes of which no human investigation has yet succeeded, or probably ever will succeed, in explaining. As for instance, the hybernation, or winter's sleep of the bat, without which it could not continue beyond a single season, and which therefore must be admired as a striking