It will form two octavo volumes, illus trated with a map of the country.This work has obtained high reputation. The author, a native of Chili, and for a long time resident in that country, is eminently distinguished as a writer, and a natural philosopher. Whether considered in relation to its natural productions, or its civil and military transactions, Chili affords an interesting subject for the historian. Blessed with a most salubrious and delightful climate, with a soil wonderfully fertile, and adapted to the productions of almost every country, rich in mines of gold and silver, it offers to the naturalist a wide field of curious research. To the moral philosopher it also furnishes a subject still more interesting from the character of its original inhabitants, the brave and hardy Araucanians. Their gallant and successful resistance to the best disciplined troops of Spain, then in the me ridian of her military glory, and their firm support of their national indepen. dence, exhibit a picture novel, highly impressive, and strongly contrasted with that of the other American nations. This work will also be reprinted in England. The French Board of Longitude, having appointed a committee of its members, to examine and calculate, with the greatest care, the observations relative to the continuation of the meridian in Spain, as far as the Balearic isles, they have delivered in a report containing the results of their labours.

The new measurement reaches from Fort Montjuy, at Barcelona, to the small island of Formentera, in the Mediterranean. The extent of the arc in the direction of the meridian, from the sig. nal-post of Matas to that of Formentera, is 315,552 metres. As the whole of it is on the sea, it was measured by a series of triangles along the coast of Spain, from Barcelona to the kingdom of Va lencia, and joining the coast of Valencia to the islands by an immense triangle, one of the sides of which is more than 160,000 metres (or 82,555 toises) in length. At such distances day signals would have been invisible; they there. fore had recourse to night-signals formed by reflecting lamps, with a current of air, which were kept lighted at the different stations from sun set to sun rise, The angles were measured with

a large repeating circle of the workmanship of Lenoir, adding every practicable kind of verification. The triangu lation was begun in the winter of 1806; that being the only season of the year when the weather is sufficiently clear for the observing of large triangles.-At the close of the summer of 1807 all the geodetic operations were finished.

The latitude of Formentera, the southernmost point of the arc, was ascertained that winter by means of 2,558 obser vations of the polar star, in which they used one of Fortin's repeating circles with a fixed level. The greatest devia tion of the partial series, from the mean of the whole, is four sexagesima! seconds; and this happens only twice in a contrary direction. In all the other series the extreme aberration is two seconds. These deviations are the same that Bradley found in his researches on the mu tation, in making observations near the zenith with large sectors. They seem to be owing to the variety of refractions produced by the changing forms of the layers of clouds. But from their smallness we may confidently conclude, that the latitude laid down from a mean of all the observations is exact.

This latitude in decimal degrees, or in grades, is

That of Dunkirk, observed by Delambre, and laid down only from the observations of the polar star, is

Difference, or arc of the meridian between Dunkirk and Fermentera

42,961777

56,760652

13.744875

From the results stated in this report, it appears, that the new measurement of the meridian in Spain confirms and gives additional certainty to the metre, by rendering it almost independent of the flattening of the earth. This are being joined to the meridian of France, presents an arc of nearly 14 grades, lying at an equal distance from the equator and the pole ;' and in the different points of which the latitudes, the azimuths, and the variations of gravity, have been observed; and which, on account of its length, its situation, and the exactness of the means employed, may be justly pronounced the most perfect operation of the kind that ever was exccuted.

POETRY

A thousand beauties to demand its praise? Ye verdant fields, ye lov'd, though distant spires;

Learning, thy favor'd seat! ye sylvan glades, Where first in pensive mood I lov'd to sing The joys ye gave, to recollection dear!

Still fondly cherish'd in the frequent thought Of many grateful sons, fresh on the mindReverting oft, breathe in my humble lay, Again direct my thought to mark the

scenes

Which, to the painter, give conception bold,
And contemplation to the peaceful sage;
Where nature's deep explorer loves to rove,
In meditation wrapt, where the rude mirth
Of happy swains imparts a gladness round.
Fir'd at the warm reanimating thought,
I feel the vigor new with fancy's pow'r
Glow in each vein, and, firing every sense,
Awake to rapture, harmony, and love!
Sterile or base is that unfeeling mind,
Th`unenvied parent of no generous thought,
A prey to every ill, empois ning life,
Where eye ne'er beam'd in virtue's ardent

Say, ye who toil for wealth, untaught to feel,

The gen'rous glow that nobler scenes in

vite,

Could not the solemn stillness far diffus'd, That floats the tresses of the ev'ning hour, Mould to the plastic feeling every heart: Has not the rustic lay, amid the hills, Resounding, soften'd from the placid vale, Breath'd purer balsam to the wounded

mind

Than wealth can give? say, has no happier time,

Contentment, smiling thro' the shepherd's

lot,

Some faint rude outline of a better scheme Display'd, though undefin'd, some purer thought,

Some plan, though strange, to virtue near allied.

'Tis hence the deep drawn inspiration springs,

Of heav'nly love, and hence the great resolve,

The plans of better life, the fervid thought
For patriot argument, the dewy tear
Of pitying zeal, compassion's tender love!
Whate'er adorns, improves, or heightens
life,

Is to the rural solitude well known.

Quick in the sense of right, the hate of

wrong,

Prompt to forgive, 'twas here the good man

drew

The sacred duties of a christian life.
On reason's canvas, here he oft would trace
The varied tint of rosy-finger'd morn,
To all the majesty of day arose
As on the christian rising; then, afar,
The grateful thought:--and thus the picture
glow'd,

Till, as conception more sublimely bent, Would cast a rapid thought, and fervent gaze

At brighter beams, as if a lustre shed
Of more than mortal seeming, born of peace,
Had glanc'd on earth, and kiss'd the high
design,
Eugenio was a solitary man!

Ye Groves, that to my aching sight more

dear arise,

Thou Sun, that rul'st by day, and thou pale
Moon,

Displaying nightly wonders without end,
To thee I yield my renovated praise,
To thee the pious accents shall belong!

Taught

Mark, is no friend of meditation there,

Who in the umbrageous solitude retir❜d,
Can look from nature's works to nature's
GOD.
London,

10th Sept. 1808.

}

SONG,

Society.

glade, Devotion's monitor? no tow'ring height, Conception's grand designer?-every plant Speaks awful truth in solemn nature's page. Each sylvan aspect bids the mind explore, The vista opens to another sky.

But man, for worldly use, shall leave the grove,

And stretch the hand of labour, prone to

seek

Another's woes, and shew the gen'ral good; Nor shall thy tow'rs, Edina, vainly warm The gen'rous heart, for, long as impulse

live

Dear to remembrance; as thy patient sons
Draw science from her gay abode, and scan
The simple wildness of the Border Lay.
Obscure, unhonor'd, yet I love thee still,
Hence shall the poet's genius warm arise,
And reason, borrowing manlier beams from
thee,

Assume a bolder flight; affirming truth,
The love of social order shall inspire
With purer ecstacy, the hallow'd theme,
When, nature's truth in admiration mark'd,
Claims from the philosophic eye its gaze.
Hence, taught by many a bard of old to

souls,

nion gives

And Bertha near Almond did stand, Then farmin' was ta'en little heed o',

They ken'd na the worth o' the land; Our auld fashion'd fathers they tell us,

They had but sma' pieces o't till'd; The maist o't was mountains and vallies, Save maybe a handie bit field. Bogs, an' bushes, an' a'; Haughs, an' meadows, an' a'; Their gaits, an' their sheep, an' their cattle,

Wild staggies, wild fillies, an' a'.

The tenants o' sic sober mailens
Could pay little rent to their lairds;
The gentry thought then birkin palins
Did brawly around their kail yard.
Brick dikes war na then i' the fashion;
Hot-houses they had nane ava;
There grew ne'er a fruit i' the nation,
That wantit the help o' a wa'.

Grozzers, an' rizzers, an'
Bram'les, blaeberries, an' a'
Content wi' the growth o' the island
Our daddies were couthie an' braw.

Sin' bonny Miss Science (they ca'd her)
Cam' hither this kintry to view,
An' said she wad stay, if they bade her,
In Perth, wi' the lads o' the blue,
Pomona an' Flora gat notice,

An' soon cam a visit to pay,
An' mony fair babie they've brought us,
To busk the sweet banks o' the Tay.
Melons, pine apples, an' a';
Geranums, carnations, an' a';
We'll nurse them wi' care an' wi
kindness,

Then wha can e'er wyle them awa'.

An' now, since Pomona an' Flora

Delight in the banks o' the 'Tay,
We'll cultivate a' their sweet graces,

Sae far's they may fa' in our way.
We'll shade them in sultry hot weather;

We'll fend them frae frost an' the snaw; Syne feast on the fruits o' the simmer, Tho' Boreas, in winter, may blaw.

Bertha, the original name of Perth

Or

Orchards, an' gardens, an' a'; Forcin', an' framin', an' a';

We'll rival the lads about Lon'on
Wi' Flora, Pomona, an' a'.

The noblest an' best o' our country,
Admirin' our progress and plan,
Have tender'd such proofs o' their bounty
As merit our thanks to a man;
Then joyfully drink to their honours,
Sure nane o' us here can do less,
Sae lang's we ha'e them for our donors
We weel may depend on success.

Nobles, an' gentry, an' a';
Magistrates, merchants, an' a';
Sae lang as we prove oursels wordy,
Their favours they'll never with-
draw.

Now fill up a glass to each Briton,
To King an' to kintry ay true,
An' friendship an' love to each meetin'
Held here by the lads o' the blue.
Let Statesmen attend to their station,
We envy them not o' their powers,
'Tis theirs to be ruling the nation,
'Tis our's to be tendin' our flowers.
Roses, an' lillies, an' a';
Daisies, an' violets, an' a';
Sae what a profusion o' beauty
An' sweetness a garden can shaw.

Now drink to our army an' navy,
Success baith by land an' by sea;
Likewise to our commerce and craftsmen,
With artists of every degree.
Look round you, an' see how they're thri-

vin'

As weel as the spade an' the plough;
Their progress is past my descrivin',
In justice to gi'e them their due.

Farmin', an' fencin', an' a';
Ploughin', an' plantin', an' a';
Beha'd how our kintry's improvin',
An' poverty wearin' awa'.

INSCRIPTION ON NELSON.
THIS fabric, sacred to a nation's tears,

TO NELSON's deathless name his country rears.

Not on frail stone his victories to record;
Not with vain praise his merits to reward;
But, all they can, their gratitude to shew,
With honours, such as mortals can bestow,
Long as one son of Britain shall survive,
Graved on his heart shall NELSON'S meno-
ry live!

Pious to heaven, and bountiful as brave,
Not more his joy to conquer than to save;
His GOD alone his virtues could repay,
And rais'd the hero to immortal day.
And ye, brave SAILORS, Britain's noble
bands,

The boast and bulwark of these sea-girt

lands:

Mr Editor, (Guessing that you are an admirer of whatever is curious of its kind, I make no apology for sending you the following strange production. It is entitled, "The Happy Muse," and was written and published about 1766, by one Robert Andrews. I am,

Your most humble servant,
GLOTIANUS.

How happy, see the bee:
Wide her empire! taste refin'd!
Free thro' unforbidden sweets,

How ranges melodious and gay!

In am'rous serenade,

Dancing round the blushing flower, -
Looks, admires, enflam'd alights,
Embracing its spirit unbibes.
Yet happier the muse

Gay Anacreon diverts,
Tender Theocrite dissolves,

And, Pindar! thy numbers intrance."
How happy, thro' the scenes,

Nature thou or fancy drew,
Springing an intrepid flight,

Still varying at pleasure her strains.
With thee, oh! might she dwell,
Leisure! in the temple calm!
Thence wide nature view and sing,

Till bursting this corporal shell,

She spring up yon abodes:

There, with ever-blooming joy,

Radiant virtue, beauty, truth,

And friendship angelic unite.

LINES,

Addressed by an Officer to a Young Lady in
Dumfries-shire, who wished to dissuade
bim from going to the EAST INDIES.
NO, Mary; no, I must not stay,

The cruel fates decree,
That swelling seas, for many a day,
Shall part my love and me.
To climes that hail the rising sun
But soon the destin'd years will run,
I go a guest forlorn;
And speed my wish'd return.
And fancy oft shall paint the glade,
Where first I told my love;
The wooded hill, the deep cascade,
And Mabie's spreading grove.

An

Are such ideas, careless of the theme;
No heaving sighs assail them as they plow,
And of thy majesty they never dream.
To vulgar eyes thou'rt often now disclos'd,
Who never think, while thro' thy walls
they stray,

What sweet regret, what pleasure thou bestow'st

On those who dearly love the plaintive lay.
Who can behold thy ancient woe-worn face,
And not recall the times which saw thee
great?

Ah! who can think of these,and fail to trace
The progress to our days, and thy sad fate!
For me-enraptur'd, I could sit for ay
Upon thy tuin'd parapets, and think
How scenes of yore have long-since pass'd

What now I know, and what did then por rend,

With rapt'rous joy the Queen of Scots I'd sav'd

From clutches of her deep-designing foe, A pow'rful sovereign's rancour would have brav'd

To keep an exil'd sovereign from the blow.
But not for such as me could this have been,
In humble life my present lot is set;
And let me not repine, for thus unseen,
Unknown, I 'scape the miseries of the great.
Had'st thou a lowly shepherd's hut been
hight,

No sad ideas ever had'st thou rais'd; Then might thy mud-built walls, obscure as night,

Have stood unminded, unreproach'd, or prais'd

Excuse these lines, unworthy of the themeAlas! my muse ill-versed in rueful strains, With vivid thoughts unable yet to gleam, But ill the honour'd task as yet sustains. While wand'ring often to thy site withdrawn,

The veil-wrapt scenes of former days reveal, That pleasant sadness, from the morning dawn,

Till even's advent, may my senses steal. And may such subjects teach me how to prize

All earthly joys, which pass away like wind; And may my raptur'd soul surmount the skies,

There heavenly, everlasting joys, to find.
Lauriston,
S0th Sept. 1808.

}

J.G. S