305 grains of seed; and, if we calculate in proportion the produce of four years, we shall find, that, from one single grain, there may spring two millions six hundred and forty-two thousand nine hundred and eight millions, two hundred and ninety-three thousand three hundred and sixty-five millions, and seven hundred and sixty thousand grains of seed. An elm, twelve years old, has often five hundred thousand grains of seed: what a prodigious number would that produce in a few years! Suppose the tree had but an hundred thousand buds, and that the shoot of each year contained but five of them, there would be every year five hundred thousand plants, which may be considered as new. If we add to that what is produced by the increase of the root, by ingrafting, &c. we shall only be surprised that the earth has not yet been consumed by plants. But we must remem. ber the numerous multitude of animals, who owe their food to the vegetable kingdom. They annaally consume so great a quantity of plants, that, if nature had not endowed vegetables with very extraordinary prolific qualities, there would be reason to fear their total destruction. But whilst animals are destroying them, they often propagate them at the same time. While they consume certain sorts of fruit, they scatter the seeds about, and often to a great distance. This dispersion is necessary, in order that only one sort of plant should not fill a whole field. It is with the same design that some seeds have little feathers or wings, to be dispersed about by the wind. It is certain also, that in general the plants are more fruitful than animals. This may be proved, by comparing trees with four-footed animals. The former produce annually, sometimes for several ages, a great number of new trees; whereas the greatest quadrupeds, such as the elephant, the mare, &c. have but one, or at most two young ones, and are often harren. The lesser quadra

peds, such as the dog, the cat, the rat, &c. are much more fruitful; but still not to be compared to the fertility of trees. Fish and insects ap proach nearer to it: tench lay about ten thousand eggs; carp, twenty thousand; and cod, a million. Now, compare that fruitfulness to the wild rose, mustard, or fern, and it will be found that those plants, and many others, multiply much more than either fish or insects, particularly if it is observed that almost all plants multiply in several ways, whereas most animals have but one way of propagating. A tree may produce as many new trees as it has branches, boughs, and even leaves.

With what wisdom, therefore, has God proportioned the animal and vegetable kingdoms! If the multiplication of vegetables was less considerable, a great number of animals would die of hunger; our fields, our meadows, and gardens, would be deserts, with only some few plants scattered here and there. On the other hand, if the Creator had ordained that the granivorous animals should increase more than the plants, the vegetable kingdom would soon be exhausted, and several species of animals would be at an end. But, according to the relation between the two kingdoms, the inhabitants of both multiply in proportion, so that no species should perish.

Thus, O man, abundance and pleasure surround thee on every side; for it is to thee that the Creator has made the vegetables so astonishingly fruitful it is for thy support, thy pleasure, and thy health, that he has produced such variety of plants, and in such great abundance. Count, if you can, what covers one single field; their number is inconceivable; and this innumerable multitude is an image of the immensity and omnipotence of the Lord; who, throughout all nature," openeth his hand, and filleth all things living with plen teousness."

MAY XXI.

Description of the Beauties of Spring.

NOTHING is more worthy of admiration than the revolutions which spring occasions upon our globe. In autumn, every valley, field, and forest, present us with the image of death; and, in winter, nature is deprived of every ornament. All the animals are melancholy; the inhabitants of the forest conceal themselves, and are silent: the earth becomes a vast solitude, a desert, a grave; and nature appears to be fallen into a state of lethargy and insensibility. In the mean time, she silently labours, whilst we, alas! forget the secret influence of Divine Power, preparing for us the renewal of nature. All that appeared dead is again animated, and every thing waits for the same revival. In the trees alone, what endless changes take place! First, the sap (which in winter had entirely forsaken the trunk and branches) rises slowly up through its invisible channels, and particularly under the bark, through ways which can only be guessed at, but not discovered. This sap serves to swell the buds: and how many treasures of the Divine Power are there not contained in those little recesses! the leaves, with their cheerful green; boughs which are to pierce between the leaves when opened; new buds on those boughs, full of leaves, though still invisible; then, that multitude of blossoms, with the sweet exhalations which embalm the air; in those blossoms fruit; and in the fruit the seeds of an infinite number of other trees. The cheerful light of the sun transports and animates the soul; and the activity of nature, in the plants around us, charms the sight. There is not a field, which does not present a beautiful landscape to the eye, and flowers to the smell. Almost every

bird sings its hymn with more or less melody. How cheerful the song of the linnet, hopping from branch to branch! She extends her voice, as if she had formed the design of particularly drawing the attention of man, to delight him. The sprightly lark rises in the air, and seems to salute the day and the spring with her shrill note. The cattle, by their various cries, express the joy with which they are animated. In the rivers we see the fish, which, during the winter, had fallen frozen and motionless to the bottom of the water, now rising near the surface. They have recovered their former vivacity; and their pliant, gentle, pleasing motions, amuse our sight. Oh! how can we so often behold all these objects, and not continually feel the most profound and respectful admiration of the greatness of that eternal Being, whose power so gloriously manifests itself! O! let us never contemplate a tree crowned with leaves, a field covered with waving corn, a meadow enamelled with flowers, a majestic forest; let us never gather a flower, nor walk in a garden, without recollecting, that it is God who gives us the delightful shade of trees; that it is he who makes the flowers so beautiful, and gives us their perfume; that it is God who clothes the woods and meads with their beautiful verdure, so pleasing to the sight; God who gives life and happiness to every creature; God, through whom we have our existence, and enjoy the sweets of spring.

MAY XXII.

The Language of Animals.

MAN, properly speaking, is the only animal who can be said to have language; and it is particularly by this circumstance that he shews his superiority over all other animated beings. It is by means of speech that he extends his empire

over all nature: that he rises towards his divine Author: contemplates, adores, and obeys him. It is by this faculty, that he learns to know himself and all the creatures around him; and to make them serve for his use. Every animal but man is deprived of this faculty, because they are void of reason; and it is reason which capacitates us to learn languages, and the use of speech. But as animals make their wants and feelings known by natural signs; as they utter certain sounds, which express the sensations that affect them, one may so far allow that they have a sort of language. The variety of these tones, their number, their use, and the order in which they follow one another, form the essential parts of their language. To form a just idea of it, it is not necessary to have recourse to deep researches; it is enough to observe the animals daily before our eyes, and with whom we have a sort of intimate connection. Examine the hen with her chicks: if she finds any food, she calls and invites them to it. They understand her and come instantly. If they have lost sight of this tender mother, their plaintive cries express their anguish, and desire to see her again. Attend to the different crows of the cock, when a stranger or a dog comes into the poultry-yard, when a kite, or any other enemy appears, and. when he calls or answers his hens. What do these lamentable cries of the turkey mean? See her chicks all on a sudden concealing themselves, and lying so quiet, one would say they were dead. The mother looks up to the sky, and her anxiety increases; but what is it she sees there? A black speck, which we can scarce distinguish; and this speck is a bird of prey, which could not escape the vigilant and piercing eyes of this mother. The bird of prey disappears. The hen gives a scream of joy. Her anxiety is at an end. The chicks revive, and gather again happily about their mother. There is such variety