and die. The snow-drop shewed its delicate flower above the ground several weeks since, long before the trees ventured to unfold their leaves, even whilst ice and snow still covered the earth. The crocus next appeared, timidly shrinking from the impetuous winds; at the same time were seen the sweet violet and the auricula. These were the joyful harbingers of the numerous flowers that now refresh us.

At this period also a succession of flowers is observed, and every month exhibits new ornaments peculiar to itself. The tulip begins to develop its rich leaves and flowers; and speedily the beautiful anemone will form its full round eup, the ranunculus expand all the magnificence of its leaves, and the opening rose spread its beauties to the morning sun, and fills the air with its perfuming fragrance; nor will the elegant pink, with its graceful charms, be wanting in the beauteous assemblage.

By the wise arrangement displayed in the regular suc. cession of flowers we derive the greatest advantages; for if they all flourished at the same time we should either have them in excessive abundance, or we should experience a total privation. But now, that each species has its determinate time and season, we can contemplate them at our leisure, and enjoy them with greater convenience; we can dwell longer upon their beauties, and examine each singly without the confusion of numbers. And by the constant succession of flowers we do not suffer from the shortness of their continuance; for the pain of seeing one die is solaced by the budding of another, and our gardens during a great part of the year present, as well as attract, the face of youth and beauty. The field of nature is open to all, and he who prefers the sting of thorns may gratify his inclination as well as he who delights in seeing flowers and sweet enjoyment attend upon all his steps. As flowers suc eeed to each other, so do the individuals composing the human race; as some are born, others are returning to their native dust; and as some are just beginning to be useful to the world, others are leaving the great theatre of life whilst new actors begin to play their parts.

in the production of the animal creation. The less we are able to comprehend the works of nature, the mor eagerly should we seize every opportunity that offers d inquiring into them.

The hen has scarcely sat upon the eggs twelve hours when some lineaments of the head and body of the chick may be discerned in the embryo; at the end of the second day the heart begins to beat, though no blood can be seen. In forty-eight hours we may distinguish two vesicles with blood, the pulsation of which is evident; one of them is the left ventricle, the other the root of the great artery; soon after one of the auricles of the heart is perceptible; in which pulsation may be remarked as well as in the ventricle. About the seventieth hour the wings may be distin guished, and on the head two globules for the brain, one for the beak, and two others for the front and hind part of the head. Towards the end of the fourth day, the two auricles, now distinctly visible, approach nearer the heart than they did before. About the fifth day the liver may be perceived; at the end of one hundred and thirty-eight hours, the lungs and stomach become visible; and in a few hours more the intestines, veins, and upper jaw. On the seventh day the brain begins to assume a more consistent form. One hundred and ninety hours after incubation, the beak opens, and flesh appears on the breast. In two hundred and ten, the ribs are formed, and the gall-bladder is visible. The bile, in a few hours more, is seen of a green colour; and if the chick be separated from its coverings, it may be seen to move. Towards the two hundred and fortieth hour, the feathers begin to shoot, and about the same time the skull becomes cartilaginous; in twenty-four hours more the eyes appear; at the two hundred and eighty-eighth, the ribs are perfected; and at the three hundred and thirty-first, the spleen approaches the stomach, and the lungs the breast. On the eighteenth day of incubation, the first faint piping of the chick is heard. It then continually increases in size and in strength till it emerges from its prison.

By so many different gradations does the adorable wisdom of God conduct these creatures into life; all their progressive evolutions are arranged with order, and each one is effected by its own particular cause. If the liver is always formed on the fifth day, it is from the preceding

state of the chick. No part of its body could appear sooner or later without some injury to the embryo, and each of its members appears at the most convenient time.

The wise and invariable order in the production of this little body, is evidently the work of supernal power; and we shall be more convinced of it if we consider the manner in which the chick is formed from the parts which compose the egg. How admirable is that principle of life the source of a new being contained in the egg, all the parts of the animal being invisible till they become developed by warmth! What a wonderful order and regularity is observed in the formation of the chick; the same evolutions taking place at once in twenty eggs! Neither does changing the position of the egg at all injure the embryo or retard the formation of the chick; which at the time when it breaks the shell, is found to be heavier than the whole egg was at first. These, however admirable, are far from being all the wonders displayed in the formation of a chick. The microscope, and the penetrating investigations of the curious, have only discovered what comes more immediately under the observation of our senses: whilst the discovery of many things remains for those who are to follow us, or they may never be known in this state of our existence. Much remains to be known concerning the mystery of generation, which at present is impenetrable to our researches ; but let not this discourage us, let us endeavour to improve and make a good use of the little knowledge we are permitted to acquire, and we shall yet have sufficient to feel the wise power of God, and to employ for the benefit of our fellow

creatures.

MAY X.

Buds of Flowers.

A NUMBER of flowers in bud, and still enveloped in their covers, may be seen in every direction; all their charms are veiled, and their beauties concealed within themselves. Like these, devoid of beauty, may be considered the wretched miser, isolated and centring every thing in himself; his views are base and sordid; he refers all to LimVOL. I.

K

self, and makes his private advantages and personal grati fication the centre of his desires, and the confined circle of 1 his actions.

The vivifying rays of the sun will soon cause the buds of the flowers to expand, and, quitting their confinement, open their ripening beauties to the face of day. They will appear with a beautiful bloom, and exhale the most fragrant perfumes. So will the heart of the miser be opened when the rays of divine grace shall beam light upon his soul. His unfeeling nature and contracted mind will yield to the penetrating influence of truth, and his heart become susceptible of social affections, and alive to the feelings of humanity. He will then no longer be the slave of seifishness, nor the prey of sordid cares; his love will become universal; he will feel the affection of a brother for the deserv ing; and his generous soul will know no bounds in its expansion, nor suffer any restraint in cheering the comfortless, and ministering unto the afflicted.

When I view the yet tender buds of flowers, I think of you, ye amiable youth! The beauty and energy of your souls are not yet displayed; your faculties are not yet expanded; and the hopes of your fond parents not yet confirmed. When, walking forth into the fields and gardens, you behold the budding flowers, consider that you are in a similar state; as you look for their expansion, so your parents fondly watch the gradual unfolding of your faculties. They do every thing for you, and neglect nothing that can promote your instruction and advance your improvement; they watch over your education with the tenderest care, that at first by blossoms, and then by choice fruit, you may be come useful to society, and be the joy of your parents, and their consolation and support in the evening of their days. Do every thing in your power to gratify the dearest hopes, and profit well by their instructions; to the end that you may become wise, amiable. and virtuous. And beware of following all the suggestions of youthful faney, or giving i way to the ebullitions of desire and he wild fury of pas sion, which will blast your innocence, destroy the sweet sensibility of your heart, and render your mind base, gloomy, and wretched. In the morning of life I flourish like the opening bud. My heart beats with joy, and throbs with fond delight; I riot in the luxury of hope, and antici.

pate with ecstacy the pleasures of futurity. But if I yield to the insinuating poison of young desire, and slide into the false sweets of pleasure, my heart would early pulsate only to the tears of bitterness, or its vital stream be consumed by the ardency of an impure flame.'

MAY XI.

Indefatigable Labours of the Bee.

THE season of spring affords us an excellent opportunity to observe the labours and industry of the bees; and the sight of a hive is certainly most beautiful. A wonderful degree of interest is excited in the contemplation of a laboratory where thousands of workmen are differently employed. Our astonishment increases as we behold the regularity of their labours, and the abundance with which these magazines are furnished for the support of their numerous inhabitants during the winter. And still more admirable is the indefatigable assiduity and unceasing labours of this little republic. Bees give an example of diligence and activity which is not only uncommon, but has perhaps never been equalled.

As soon as the last traces of winter have disappeared, they begin to come forth; sometimes so early that there is reason to fear the cold is yet sufficiently strong to injure their delicate limbs. Even before the juices of flowers which begin to open are sufficiently acted upon by the heat of the sun to furnish a large supply of honey, the bees collect a little for their subsistence. But as the spring advances, and in the summer, their cares and activity are redoubled: in these seasons they are never idle, they work incessantly, and neglect not the smallest profits that will increase their stores. They are so indefatigable in the construction of their cells, that we are informed a comb with double cells and sufficiently large to contain three thousand bees, is finished in twenty-four hours.

The work is jointly undertaken by all the members of the republic; whilst some collect the wax, and prepare and