Original. NATURAL SCIENCE. NATURAL SCIENCE. BY PROFESSOR MERRICK. BIRDS. Who does not love the birds, with their beautiful forms, their graceful movements, their cheerful songs, and rich attire? What a blank in creation without them! But they are useful as well as beautiful; and not merely those which have been domesticated by man and appropriated exclusively to his private use-for the wild bird that frequents the solitary glen, often does man important service, though it may be unacknowledged and unknown. True, sometimes when the hawk picks up a plump chicken for his supper, or the crow uproots the young corn, or the robin supplies its wants from the cherry-tree, a curse falls upon the whole feathered tribe; still none would be willing that a law of extermination should be passed against the birds. What, no birds to tell us when the spring has come, to greet us on a summer's morning with their merry song, to mingle their notes with ours at the vesper hour, to flit along our path, to build their nests and rear their young in the shrubs and trees around the door, to destroy the noxious insects which would otherwise prove destructive to our flowers and fruits! No, let the birds live, and let the truant boy whose destructiveness seeks exercise in cruelly taking their lives without provocation, learn to love what is so "beautiful and fair in nature," and direct his destructive powers against something which contributes less to the happiness of all. Though it is not the season of birds, I propose to furnish a few articles on their structure, size, covering, voice, &c., with the natural history of a few interesting species. This, I trust, will not be unacceptable to the fair readers of the Repository, for birds "improve upon acquaintance." The average size of birds is much less than that of quadrupeds, the largest of the former not exceeding the medium size of the latter. Their range of size is also less; some species of quadrupeds being but little larger than the smallest birds, while the largest of the feathered race appear diminutive in the presence of some of the gigantic species of the former. Still, this range is very wide. The ruby-throated humming bird is not more than two and a half inches in length, and its wings do not expand more than four or five inches; while the ostrich sometimes measures from eight to nine feet in height, and the albatross expands its wings to not less than twenty feet. In the structure of birds we meet with much which is highly interesting, and which, in an eminent degree, affords evidence of design, and equally exhibits the wisdom and goodness of the Creator. Most that is peculiar in their structure is designed to adapt them to the medium in which they move. For a number of reasons it is necessary that the head of birds should be small, and on this account they are not furnished with the teeth, heavy jaws, and strong muscles of the mammalians. Being destitute of these, they do not masticate their food before swallowing. 73 This process is performed by a singular organ called a gizzard, which in its structure and mode of operation bears a strong resemblance to a common corn-mill. It consists of two powerful muscles of a hemispherical shape, with their flat sides applied to each other, and their edges united by a strong tendon, which leaves a vacant space of an oval or quadrangular form between their two surfaces. These surfaces are covered by a thick and dense horny substance, which, when the gizzard is in action, performs an office similar to that of mill-stones. In most birds there is also a sac, or receptacle termed the craw, in which the food is collected for the purpose of being dropped, in small quantities at a time, into the gizzard, in proportion as the latter becomes gradually emptied.” * The pebbles always found upon opening the gizzard are undoubtedly necessary to assist in triturating the food. Thus furnished, the power of this organ is truly wonderful. The hardest substances scarcely resist its action. In experiments made by Reanmur and Spallanzani, "balls of glass, which the bird was made to swallow with its food, were soon ground to powder: tin tubes, introduced into the stomach, were flattened, and then bent into a variety of shapes; and it was even found that the points of needles and of lancets fixed in a ball of lead, were blunted and broken off by the power of the gizzard, while its internal coat did not appear to be in the slightest degree injured." After the food has been properly triturated, it is received into a thin muscular bag, situated in the lower part of the gizzard, where it undergoes digestion. The organs of respiration in birds are also peculiar. The lungs themselves are not large, but there are numerous air-cells situated in different parts of the body, into which the atmosphere is received from the lungs. The cavities in the bones and larger feathers are likewise filled with air from the same source. The lungs do not expand and contract in respiration as in most animals; but by a peculiar movement the air is forced through them into the air-cells, and thence back through the same organ; so that the air may be said to be breathed twice at each respiration. It is obvious that this arrangement adds much to the lightness of the bird, and thus enables it to move with greater ease in its native element. "In order that the body may be exactly balanced while the bird is flying, its centre of gravity must be brought precisely under the line connecting the articulations of the wings with the trunk; for it is at these points that the resistance of the air causes it to be supported by the wings. When the bird is resting upon its legs, the centre of gravity must, in like manner, be brought immediately over the base of support formed by the toes: it becomes necessary, therefore, to provide means for shifting the centre of gravity from one place to another, according to circumstances, and to adjust its position with considerable nicety; otherwise there would be danger of the equilibrium being destroyed, * Roget. and the body oversetting. The principal means of effecting these adjustments consist in the motions of the head and neck, which last is for that purpose, rendered exceedingly long and flexible. The number of cervical vertebræ is generally very considerable: in the mammalia there are always seven, but in many birds there are more than twice that number. In the swan there are twenty-three, and they are joined together by articulations, generally allowing free motions in all directions; that is, laterally, as well as forward and backwards. This unusual degree of mobility is conferred by a peculiar mechanism, which is not met with in other vertebrated animals. A cartilage is interposed between each of the vertebræ, to the surfaces of which these cartilages are curiously adapted; being inclosed between folds of the membrane lining the joint; so that each joint is in reality double, consisting of two cavities, with an intervening cartilage. "It is to be observed, however, that in consequence of the positions of the oblique processes, the upper vertebræ of the neck bend with more facility forwards than backwards; while those in the lower half of the neck bend more readily backwards: hence, in a state of repose, the neck naturally assumes a double curvature, like that of the letter S, as is well seen in the graceful form of the swan's neck. By extending the neck in a straight line, the bird can, while flying, carry forwards the centre of gravity, so as to bring it under the wings; and when resting on its feet, or floating on the water, it can transfer that centre backwards, so as to bring it toward the middle of the body, by merely bending back the neck into the curved form which has just been described; and thus the equilibrium is, under all circumstances, preserved, by movements remarkable for their elegance and grace. "Another advantage arising from the length and mobility of the neck is, that it facilitates the application of the head to every part of the surface of the body. Birds require this power in order that they may be enabled to adjust their plumage, whenever it has, by any accident, become ruffled. In aquatic birds, it is necessary that every feather should be constantly anointed with an oily secretion, which preserves it from being wetted, and which is copiously provided for that purpose by glands situated near the tail. The flexibility of the neck alone would have been insufficient for enabling the bird to bring its bill in contact with every feather, in order to distribute this fluid equally over them; and there is, accordingly, a farther provision made for the accomplishment of this object in the mode of articulation of the head with the neck. "The great mobility of the neck also enables the bird to employ its beak as an organ of prehension for taking its food: an object which was the more necessary, in consequence of the conversion of the fore extremities into wings, of which the structure is incompatible with any prehensile power, such as is often possessed by the anterior extremity of a quadruped."* * Roget The contrivance for closing the foot when the bird is on perch, is beautiful for its simplicity and efficiency. The muscles which bend the toes are made to pass over the outer angle of the two lower joints of the leg, so that as these are bent the muscles are mechanically tightened, thus the mere weight of the bird when at rest, bending the joints, involuntarily closes the foot upon the limb on which it is perched. As the firmness with which the limb is grasped depends upon the force which bends the joints of the leg, the bird rests as secure upon one leg as upon both. The mechanism of the eye and of the wing of the bird is also well calculated to excite the admiration of all. Upon these, however, I shall not dwell; but the above, I trust, will be sufficient to lead the reader to exclaim with one who was accustomed to look through nature up to nature's God, "O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all; the earth is full of thy riches." Original. THE CHRISTIAN. BY DR. THOMSON. the earth: a common object is kept in view, the release of earth from the dominion of hell. Although we are predisposed to admire unity of purpose, we cannot consistently estimate human character without scanning the motive by which its plan is directTHEY are mistaken who imagine that the Christian ed. If actions are to be estimated without reference to religion is unfavorable to magnanimity. The Gospel motives, there is no difference between the lion wateris a fruitful source of true greatness. Every genuine ing his dry jaws with the blood of his victim, and believer is a specimen of the moral sublime. He stands Buonaparte surmounting the Alps. But if character before us a pattern embodying whatever is lovely, and is to be estimated by the motive of the agent, then whatever is great in human nature. His imagination where shall we find a character truly great, except it be is kept glowing by the constant presence of an object, that of the Christian? How shall we estimate a moin comparison with which, the united glories of all the tive? Not, surely, without reference to man's nature angels in heaven, would be but as the glimmering of and relations. He is a moral, rational, and immortal the glow-worm. He perceives that every word he being; he is a subject of God's government. Can that utters, every action he performs, bears itself onward to plan be approved which is founded in disregard of God's the last day, and to the eternity which must follow. laws, which overlooks the endless life that lies before All his motives, his plans, his purposes, have an end- us? Nay. Where then shall we find dignified charless sweep. He stands in the midst of a world of care acter? Shall we find it in the miser, who spends his and folly, looking steadily to the rescue of an immortal life in gathering, gold which he knows not who shall soul from sin and death, and the acquisition of an eter-scatter, while he descends to the treasure of eternal nal crown. wealth which he has heaped up for himself? In the But I have particularly in view the tendency of the warrior, who writes his name upon the scroll, to be Christian's unity of purpose, to confer magnanimity of wiped out a few days hence, while he himself descends character. It is not the performance of a few great ac- to shame and everlasting contempt? In the sensualist, tions that constitutes an illustrious name. It is the who buries his soul in the sepulchre of his senses, to governing plan of the agent. How do we form an idea have a resurrection in the flames that are never quenchof an epic poem? Not by the imagery, the episodes, ed? Or shall we find it in him who pleases conscience, the diction; but by the plan, or design of the poet-the obeys God, avoids hell, gains heaven, writes his name connection of parts apparently disunited, into one har-in the eternal histories, and plants himself as a star in monious and beautiful whole. Here is shown the ge- the firmament of heaven for ever and ever? nius of the writer; here kindles the imagination of the reader. Why is the cataract so full of majesty? Because with all its currents and counter-currents, in the calmest hour, it heaves its mighty sheet of water to the foaming bed below. Why are we charmed at the history of an illustrious warrior? It is not his forced marches, his long campaigns, his hazardous voyages, his hair-breadth escapes, his midnight battles, the seas of blood pressed from human hearts by his footsteps, the thrones and sceptres crumbled by his touch, the prostrate nations bowing at his nod; but the union of all these things to the accomplishment of one object, the concentration of power in the hands of the victor, that excite our admiration and astonishment. Why is it that in this unity of purpose there is sublimity? Because it is a characteristic of the Divinity, and mind was formed to admire God. Look into the universe, that shadow of God's natural perfections. What unity, what harmony, what simplicity of machinery, to accomplish a multiplicity of effects. Behold gravity, pressing the humblest plant that opens its petals to the morning sun to the bosom of the earth, and putting forth its hand to bind the universe in one. Look into providence-all events concur to a common end. Look at redemption. If the seer prophesy, if the altar bleed, if the tabernacle rise, if the temple lift its spires on high; if Jesus comes, if he burst the tomb, or heal the sick, or cleanse the leper-whether he lives, or dies, or rises, or ascends, or sends his ministers to the ends of I think I have never dwelt with greater admiration on the pages of profane history, than when contemplating Pericles in the Pelopenesian war, contrary to the wishes and judgment of every man, woman, and child in Athens, resolving not to march out to meet the foe, but to fortify the city, and wait the approach of the enemy before the walls. He goes not into any assembly of the people, that he may not be forced into any measure contrary to his own judgment; but as the pilot of a vessel in the ocean, buffeted by the midnight storm, having arranged every thing carefully, and drawn tight the tackle, exercises his own skill, disregarding the tears and entreaties of the terrified and sea-sick passengers—thus he, having shut up the city and occupied all places, and stationed his guards, went on and followed his own plan; caring little for those abhorring and exclaiming against him. Although many of his friends kept urging him by their entreaties, and many of his enemies assailed him by their threats and denunciations, and many sang songs and scurrilous effusions to bring him into disgrace, stigmatizing him as a coward, and as betraying the public property and honor to the enemy, yet he steadily pursued his own wise plans, and wrought out the salvation of the city. And yet the humblest son of God possesses a unity and energy of purpose surpassing that of Pericles. "Tis not because he has no avarice that he does not rake together the glittering dust; 'tis not because he has no propensions that he does not plunge into sensuality; 'tis nct 76 SHADOWS AND REALITIES. lilies; the honey-suckle was over and about me; the inocuous shrubs down at my feet: all warmed into life by the sun-shine, and watered by the dew of heaven. The freshness of the air, and unsurpassed loveliness of all around, caused me to lift my heart in thankfulness to the great Jehovah. But, alas, the sad and sickening thought, 'all must perish,' closed the scene on this delightful banquet." because he has no ambition that he does not pluck honor || the strangeness of some of the dispensations of Provifrom the cannon's mouth, or wreath his brow with the dence, "I walked in the garden amid the roses and civic crown; 'tis not because he has no pride, that he rebels not against the heavens. No, no; but because he, by the grace of God, puts forth his hands and binds the passions of his deathless soul with resistless cords. "Tis not because he is unentreated and unassailed, that he pursues his simple plan. Friends persuade, foes denounce; one slanders, another sneers; now he is called cowardly, now enthusiastic, now unfeeling, now hypocritical, now stultified. Earth spreads its temptations all over her beautiful bosom, his own senses are avenues to temptations, his passions are allies to his foes: all hell surrounds him with a determination to destroy, and yet he pursues his way. No wonder that angels are ministering spirits sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation. The faithful Christian is worthy to be a spectacle to earth and hell and heaven. Methinks an angel might delight to leave the sapphire blaze of the eternal throne, to help him up the heights of glory. Such admonitory reflections are not uncommon, even among children. They are taught, and receive without appropriating it, the simple truth, that there is a presiding Deity who made all things. And though they may not understand the precise character of that change which comes upon the vegetable world-why the flowers fade, and the leaves wither away and dieit is a sort of philosophy that disposes the heart to listen to the invitations of Heaven. It is a voice from the skies calling us home to God, alluring us to brighter worlds. It corrects that romantic fancy, which too often subdues the nobler faculties of the mind, and keeps it on a stretch for something great and grand in this world of sin, and tells us that, "like the poor beetle which we tread upon," we must come down to dust and ashes. How fatal is that error, which leads the mind to dwell with rapture on the gay and airy associations of reckless poets, or suffers it to be darkened by the obscurity they throw over their superficial ideas. There is no ray of light in the whole circle of man's philosophy to dissipate the gloom. We see the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and understand the nature of the solar system, and the relation the planets bear to each other; Socrates defined what justice was, and celebrated the praises of virtue; but the knowledge of all this does not unfold to us our origin, or the attributes of the Deity. Invention loses its power in the confused THE great defect in much of the sweetest poetry of the present day is, that while it awakens our sensibility and opens a current of feeling--while it pours a torrent of softness on the heart, and shadows forth to the imagination the bright imagery of its creation, it pre-mass of subjects, and our hopes and expectations are sents nothing safe and solid on which the mind can repose, when startled at the result of its own musings. The above lines are given as a fair specimen of this description, every feature of which is culled from the bowers of romance. given up to astonishment and surprise. This is the sum total of all our efforts. The volume of Revelation affords the desired information, and its authority is sanctified by God himself. Here we learn the depravity of our nature, consequent on the fall of man--the immortality of the soul-the redemption of the world by the coming of Christ, and the boundless limits of that grace which is freely offered to all who repent and believe. How utterly insignificant and puerile do the effusions of Byron and Shelly appear, compared with the majesty of the Scriptures. Men who were swayed by unholy passions, or dashed about by the breakers of From "the cradle to the grave," the melancholy truth is stamped upon our memory-we shall pass away. Hence the dark and undefined forebodings that loom through the distant future. The minds of men, especially that portion of them just emerging from the indistinct dreams of youth to the meridian of mature life, are so generally plied with this feeble source of thought, that were it not for the benevolence of a Savior, who has condescended to instruct, and who still "careth for licentiousness-they glitter like an insect in the mornus," the works of the preacher and Christian philanthropist would be barren of fruit, a forlorn hope. The Most High comes to the rescue, and by an exhibition of his power, severe though it may seem to poor blind man, opens his heart to conviction, and cleanses it from the debasing sensualities to which it so fondly clings. It was once remarked by a very young person, who knew but little of "salvation by faith" in Christ, or ing sun, and fall to rise no more. Go, proud one, to ENVY, if surrounded on all sides by the brightness of another's prosperity, like the scorpion, confined within a circle of fire, will sting itself to death. LIFE AND IMMORTALITY. 77 Original. LIFE AND IMMORTALITY. "There's more beyond." that they are not lost for ever!-that there is some spirit-land where, crowned with amaranthine garlands, they await our coming to join them in those bowers of joy! And why is this? wherefore the assurance which yields a solace to the wounded spirit, that "there is more beyond" this scene of toil and anxiety, and that this life is but the vestibule of the temple of existence? Is it but a fond fancy of my own, or does the common belief of humanity, and the teachings of an enlightened philosophy confirm this dogma? I look abroad to the nations of the earth, and wherever I make the inquiry, whether in the refined halls of Grecian, of oriental, or Roman philosophy, or of the simple savage, WERE human life one unclouded day, in which pleasure was ever supreme, the very monotony which it would produce would tend to weariness, if not to pain. But such is not the order of Providence. Above, around, beneath us, change is the characteristic of all things. Day succeeds night-one season gives place to another-the ocean, though beautiful in its calmness, anon is lashed into fury by the wrath of the tempest-the heavens, now serene, presently become involved in clouds and storms. But not alone in the material world is change the order of the day; but man, who breasts the fury of the tempest and the storm, and brings under his subjection, so to speak, the elements I find but one and the same response. Rude though the of nature itself, is the theatre upon which changes, the conception of what that existence is to the latter, and most august and wonderful, are witnessed. In fortune, though the former may not have felt that unquestionain circumstances, in his hopes, desires, and expecta-ble conviction which arises from a fully demonstrated tions, mutation is stamped upon all. Well might the proposition, nor the higher sanction of inspired revelapoet speak of him as that "pendulum betwixt a smile and tear;" whose untutor'd mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind," tion, yet it is not to be doubted that this belief was firmly rooted in the mind of both the one and the other. The savage imagined that after the soul "shook off this mortal coil," it wandered in isles of beauty and for there are moments when a feeling of sadness steals over even the gayest heart, and like the gathering shadows of departing day, mellows into tenderness the gair-light beyond the setting sun, and quaffed immortality ish beams of noon-day joy. However the busy pur- from fountains of crystal purity, beneath bowers of unsuits of gain, the vaultings of ambition, or the simpler dying fragrance. The arch imposter of the east debased delights of domestic life may enchain us to one pursuit his paradise to the level of sensual indulgence, and held until habit begets a second nature, and our course seems out to his devotees the boon of immortality amid groves still onward in this chosen routine, yet such is the law of perennial bloom, where Houris enravished the soul of our being, and such the order of Providence, that of the brave, and were ever employed in unfolding new some obstacle springs up to break the even tenor of our sources of delight. The more refined philosopher of way to disengage the mind from the consideration of the schools, though unable to gain any clear perception the evanescent things around our path, and by a reflex of "that bourne from whence no traveler hath returninfluence to look within to that complicated and myste-ed," yet listened with docility to the voice of the soul; rious agency which constitutes our being. For exam- and from her aspirations-from "The pleasing hope-the fond desire- ple-we all find ourselves possessed of every thing which can supply our wants, or gratify the more refined tastes of wealth or intellectual refinement. No acci- which filled his breast, "reasoned well" of her destiny. dent mars our felicity-no misfortune clouds our brow-In short, all kindreds, and tongues, and nations, howour friendships are sincere and reciprocal-our domes-ever diverse in their customs, or dissimilar in their inteltic joys know no diminution, and the heart luxuriates lectual or moral culture, are univocal in declaring that in all that the world calls happiness. But suddenly there is an immortality beyond the grave. And if we "a change comes over the spirit of our dream"-a adopt that just canon of interpretation furnished us by wife-a child-some fond idol, with whom the affec- Cicero, viz., consensus omnium lex natura est," we tions of the heart were so closely entwined that it were cannot but conclude that there is a rational foundation like death to sever the link which united us to them, is for this belief. snatched from our embrace; and that animated and beauteous being, in whom life seemed to wanton in excess now lies a tenant of the tomb, "In cold obstruction's apathy." No more can it soothe us in distress, or add energy in adversity. The gushing fountains of sympathy are chilled in the coldness of the tomb; and the lone heart, stricken by the bereavement, is left to bow in agony before the irrevocable decree. But though death thus invades our peace, and gathers to his dark domain the loved ones in whom our affections centred, yet with what force does the conviction come home to our minds But leaving this argument, I turn my eye within, and consider the capacities of this mysterious agent. Unlike the body by which its energies are clogged and fettered, I find it simple and indivisible, exhibiting no appearances of decay or destruction, but possessed of powers too vast for finite conception. Surrounded by present pursuits, it knows no satiety, but is ever on the wing for new scenes of delight, and new sources of knowledge. It ever feels a vacuum-a desire for something which it has not, and for which it craves. Nor is this found to be the case in a part only of our species: it is seen alike in the simple hind, and the pol 1 |