MO, which are sometimes opposed to one another, but which never affect the uniform description of the areas about E. Near the quadratures, the force MN vanishes, and the force MF, which increases the gravity of the Moon to the Earth, coincides with CE or DE. As the Moon approaches the conjunction at A, the force MO prevails over ME, and lessens the gravity of the Moon to the Sun. In the opposite point of the orbit, when the Moon is in opposition at B, the force with which the Sun draws the Moon is less than that with which he draws the Earth, so that the effect of the solar force is to separate the Moon and the Earth, or to increase their distance; that is, it is the same as if, conceiving the Earth not to be acted on, the Sun's force drew the Moon in the direction from E to B. This force is negative, therefore, in respect of the force A, and the effect in both cases is to draw the Moon from the Sun in a direction perpendicular to the line of the quadratures.'

ERRATUM

In the Volume for 1818.

Page 195, line 12, for Scorpio read Virgo.

The Naturalist's Diary

For DECEMBER 1819.

Now bleak DECEMBER chills with icy hand
The drooping features of the lingering year,
And warns the wildered wanderer of home.

RAIN and wind are now extremely prevalent, and, as the frost seldom sets in till the latter end of December, this month may be reckoned the most unpleasant of the whole year. Its gloomy character and soul-chilling effects, often applicable to its precursor, November, are well pourtrayed in the following little poem, by MALLETT:

A WINTER'S DAY.

Written in a State of Melancholy.

Now, gloomy soul! look out-now comes thy turn;-
With thee behold all ravaged nature mourn.
Hail the dim empire of thy darling night,

That spreads slow-shading o'er the vanquished light.
Look out with joy; the ruler of the day
Faint, as thy hopes, emits a glimin'ring ray;
Already exiled to the utmost sky,

Hither, oblique, he turned his clouded eye.
Lo! from the limits of the wintry pole
Mountainous clouds in rude confusion roll;
In dismal pomp, now hov'ring on their way,
To a sick twilight they reduce the day.

And, hark! imprisoned winds, broke loose, arise,
And roar their haughty triumph through the skies,
While the driv'n clouds, o'ercharged with floods of rain,
And mingled lightning, burst upon the plain.
Now see sad earth-like thine her altered state,
Like thee she mourns her sad reverse of fate!
Her smile, her wanton looks-where are they now?
Faded her face, and wrapt in clouds her brow!
No more th' ungrateful verdure of the plain,
No more the wealth-crowned labours of the swain;
These scenes of bliss no more upbraid my fate;
Torture my pining thought, and rouse my hate;
The leaf-clad forest and the tufted grove,
Erewhile the safe retreats of happy love,
Stripped of their honours, naked now appear;
This is, my soul! the winter of their year:
The little noisy songsters of the wing,
All shiv'ring on the bough, forget to sing.
Hail, rev'rend silence! with thy awful brow,
Be music's voice for ever mute-as now;
Let no intrusive joy my dead repose
Disturb-no pleasure disconcert my woes.
In this moss-covered cavern hopeless lard,
On the cold cliff I'll lean my aching head,
And, pleased with Winter's waste, unpitying see
All nature in an agony with me.

Rough rugged rocks, wet marshes, ruined tow'rs,

Bare trees, brown brakes, bleak heaths, and rushy moors,

Dead floods, huge cataracts, to my pleased eyes

(Now I can smile)-in wild disorder rise;

And now, the various dreadfulness combined,

Black Melancholy comes to doze my mind.

See! night's wished shades rise spreading through the air, And the lone hollow gloom for me prepare

Hail, solitary ruler of the grave!

Parent of terrors! from thy dreary cave!
Let thy dumb silence midnight all the ground,
And spread a welcome horror wide around.-
But, hark!—a sudden howl invades my ear!
The phantoms of the dreadful hour are near!
Shadows from each dark cavern now combine,
And stalk around, and mix their yells with mine.
Stop, flying Time! repose thy restless wing;
Fix here nor hasten to restore the spring:
Fixed my ill fate, so fixed let winter be-
Let never wanton season laugh at me.

Whatever in

But every medal has its reverse. convenience may be experienced from the cold and gloomy days and long nights of winter, all is compensated by the cheerful blaze of the evening fire with the social circle around it. MILTON, in an exquisite sonnet, addressed to his friend LAWRENCE, adds this pleasing testimony to the attractions of a fire-side:

LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son,

Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day,—what may be won
From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire

The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,

Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well-touched, and artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of these delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

-

An evening fire-side by twilight is thus well described in the Reflector: How observed with the smallest effort is every trick and aspect of the fire! A coal falling in,-a fiuttering fume,a miniature mockery of a flash of lightning,-nothing escapes the eye and the imagination. Sometimes a little flame

appears at the corner of the grate like a quivering spangle; sometimes it swells out at top into a restless and brief lambency; anon it is seen only by a light beneath the grate, or it curls around one of the bars like a tongue, or darts out with a spiral thinness and a sulphureous and continued puffing as from a reed. The glowing coals meantime exhibit the shifting forms of hills, and vales, and gulfs,—of fiery Alps, whose heat is uninhabitable even by spirit; or of black precipices, from which swart fairies seem about to spring away on sable wings;-then heat and fire are forgotten, and walled towns appear, and figures of unknown animals, and far-distant countries, scarcely to be reached by human journey; -then coaches, and camels, and barking dogs as large as either, and forms that combine every shape and suggest every fancy;-till at last, the ragged coals tumbling together, reduce the vision to chaos, and the huge profile of a gaunt and grinning face seems to make a jest of all that has passed.

The entrance of a single candle dissipates these scenes of fancy in an instant, and the dreamer is summoned to his tea.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Ever since tea has been known, its clear and gentle powers of inspiration have been acknowledged, from Waller paying his court at the circle of Catharine of Braganza, to Dr. Johnson receiving homage at the parties of Mrs. Thrale. The former, in his lines upon hearing it commended by her Majesty,' ranks it at once above myrtle and laurel, and her Majesty, of course, agreed with him:

Venus her myrtle, Phoebus has his bays;

Tea both excels, which she vouchsafes to praise,

The best of queens, and best of herbs, we owe
To that bold nation, which the way did show
To the fair region, where the sun does rise,
Whose rich productions we so justly prize.
The Muse's friend, Tea, does our fancy aid,
Repress those vapours which the head invade,
And keeps that palace of the soul serene,
Fit, on her birth-day, to salute the Queen.

They who prefer coffee will be pleased to see that their favourite beverage has not been left unnoticed by the poets:

For, lo! the board with cups and spoons are crowned,
The berries crackle, and the mill turns round:
On shining altars of japan they raise
The silver lamp; the fiery spirits blaze;
From silver spouts the grateful liquors glide,
And China's earth receives the smoking tide:
At once they gratify the scent and taste,
And frequent cups prolong the rich repast.
Straight hover round the fair her airy band;
Some, as she sipped, the fuming liquor fanned;
Some o'er her lap their careful plumes displayed,
Trembling, and conscious of the rich brocade.

'It must be acknowledged, however, that the general association of ideas is at present in favour of tea, which on that account has the advantage of suggesting no confinement to particular ranks or modes of life. Let there be but a fire-side, and any body, of any denomination, may be fancied enjoying the luxury of a cup of tea, from the duchess in the evening drawing-room, who makes it the instrument of displaying her white hand, to the washer-woman at her early tub, who, having had nothing to signify since five, sits down to it with her shining arms and corrugated fingers at six. If there be any one station of life in which it is enjoyed to most advantage, it is that of mediocrity,-that in which all comfort is reckoned to be best appreciated, because, while there is taste to enjoy, there is necessity to earn the enjoyment'.' Having taken our refreshment of tea or

1 See an ingenious paper in the Reflector,' entitled, a 'Day by the Fire,' vol. ii, p. 400.