jessamines, asparagus, mulberries, and indeed the whole array of our garden vegetables, flowers, and shrubs, although the Pass is, in point of fact, a mere barren waste, upon which the goddess Flora would hardly deign to light for a moment in her visits to that part of the African continent! We do not know who it was that asserted that the streets of Cape-town are paved with bullocks' tails! The source of this mistake is truly ludicrous. The channel of the river Sonderend, as well as its tributary streams, is encumbered with a species of bog-rush, that spreads over the surface of the stream, and interlaces its creeping stems so firmly, that a man may walk upon it without the least danger of sinking. When the farmers send their wine to market, they pad the sides of their waggons with the stems of this rush, which are thrown out into the street when they are no longer required-and these were the bullocks' tails with which one of our travellers said that Cape-town was paved! It must be confessed that, in general, our tourists are but sorry botanists. Compared with the French, the Germans, and Swedes, our general ignorance of natural history is indeed disgraceful.

Among the observations which Mr. Carmichael makes upon the Cape, he mentions a singular and infallible prognostic of tempestuous weather, which the celebrated Table-Mountain supplies.

"It is a common saying among the inhabitants of Cape-town, that when the Devil spreads his table-cloth on the mountain, you may look for a strong south-east wind. In the whole system of meteorology, there is not a more infallible prognostic. The Devil's table-cloth is a thin sheet of white vapour, which is seen rushing over the edge of the precipice, while the sky all around is serene and unclouded. The rapidity of its descent resembles that of water pouring over the face of a rock. The air, at the same time, begins to be agitated in the valley; and, in less than half an hour, the whole town is involved in dust and darkness. Instantly the streets are deserted, every door and window is shut up, and Cape-town is as still as if it were visited by the plague.

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Sometimes, however, instead of a sheet of vapour, an immense cloud envelops the mountain, and stretching out on all sides, like a magnificent canopy, shades the town and the adjacent country from the sun. The inferior boundary of this cloud is regulated probably by various circumstances; among others, by the strength of the wind, and the temperature of the air in the Table Valley. The influence of the latter is to be inferred from the fact, that though the cloud never descends farther than half way into the hot parched amphitheatre of Cape-town, you may observe it on the side of Camp's Bay, rolling down in immense volumes to the very sea, over which it sometimes stretches farther than the eye can follow it.

"I do not know any thing more singular than the aspect of this cloud. It is continually rushing down to a certain point on the side of the mountain, and there vanishing. Fleeces are seen, from time to time, torn from its skirts, by the strength of the wind, floating and whirling, as it were, in a vortex over the town, and then gradually dissolving away. But the main body remains, as if nailed to the mountain, and bids defiance to the utmost efforts of the gale." -Part iv. pp. 25, 26.

Among the many objects of natural interest which Mr. Carmichael mentions as having been seen by him at the Cape, there are none more curious than the species of beetle, vulgarly, but expressively called, the Tumble-dung. This insect deposits its ova in a small round mass of cow-dung, which it buries in the ground. Their instinct, which leads them to find out the proper material, often assembles thousands of them round the same lump. A spectator would imagine that they were working in combination, whereas each is eager only about its own separate interests, cutting away first the fragments which it wants, then, by a dexterous management of its head and legs, kneading it into a globular form, which it instantly sets about removing to a considerable distance, preparatory to its being lowered into the earth. But how is the insect to effect this removal of a substance larger and heavier than its own body? Nature, not having given it the physical strength, which would enable it to lift the ball from the ground, has taught it a mechanical contrivance, which serves instead. It rests its tiny head and fore legs on the ground, and pushing with its hind legs against the precious fragment, now containing its ova, moves it progressively onward, the insect itself walking backward, until it reaches the chosen spot, where it makes a hole some inches deep in the sand, and trundling it in, covers it over. This is the course of the honest and industrious Tumble-dung (Scarabaeus sacer): but they have their thieves among them, like communities of a higher order, fellows who, without any fair exertions of their own, seek to appropriate to themselves the well earned acquisitions of others, and become affluent at their expense. It often happens that a virtuous and pains-taking beetle, while rolling his burthen homeward, is assailed by a bandit, who had been perhaps all the day on the wing, marauding, instead of working peaceably like his neighbours. Beholding a beautifully formed ball, the posession of which would save him a longer journey and a great deal of trouble, down he pounces upon the earth, without the smallest fear of consequences, and, having folded his wings under his sheath, pushes strait for the prize. But the lawful owner of the property, already on his guard, posts himself on the top of his ball, and as soon as the enemy comes near enough, is enabled, by his advantageous position, to give him a chuck under the chin, which sends him, heels over head, to the distance of some ten or twelve inches. If the battle be renewed, it generally terminates according to justice, in favour of the real owner, whose prior possession gives him a superiority in the means of defence, which the invader seldom overcomes; and he finally walks off, like a coward dog with his head under his tail.

Mr. Carmichael chanced to witness the issue from the earth, of the winged males of the white ants. He beheld them springing into light in millions, from fissures in the soil, and through pores in the ground that were hardly visible to the eye. The Hottentot children catch them in handfuls, as they emerge from their birth

place, and devour them without any ceremony. Their bodies are so small, and their wings so large and unwieldy, that they with difficulty sustain themselves in the air, and are made the sport of the breeze. Those which escape the young Hottentots, thus easily become the victims of numerous predatory flies, which are on the watch for their destruction: nevertheless, there is no part of the world that is more infested than the Cape with ants of every description.

The remarks of Mr. Carmichael upon the Moravian mission, established some years ago, for the purpose of affording instruction to the Hottentots, are precisely to the same effect as those which have fallen from almost every intelligent and unbiassed traveller in other regions of the globe, to which British missions have yet been extended. We deem it a sacred duty to the public, to bring before them, as often as we can, the evidence of sensible and dispassionate observers, as to the real nature of these institutions, for the support of which a very large revenue is contributed yearly, which might be laid out at home with infinitely greater advantage.

""On the motives that dictated the establishment of the Moravian mission, and the plan on which it has hitherto been conducted, there can be but one opinion; both are entitled to unqualified approbation; yet so unpropitious are the circumstances connected with it, that there is reason to apprehend that it will do more harm than good, and aggravate the misery it was its object to lighten. The population of the colony consists of two races of people; the white, or descendants of Europeans, and the black, or Hottentots, who are parcelled out among the former, and serve them in the capacity of menials. Thinly scattered over a prodigious extent of territory, and repelled, by natural difficulties, but much more by positive enactments, beyond the reach of justice, the distant colonists live in a state of independence, over which the government has no effective control. Hence they have usurped full authority over the rights, and, not unfrequently, over the lives of their dependents; and the capricious exercise of it, we can easily imagine, has been the source of no small portion of misery to the latter. Laws have been enacted from time to time, with a view to curb this abuse; but laws issued without the power of enforcement, are more likely to increase than to restrain abuse, from that sort of vindictive pleasure which men often feel in showing their contempt of law, when they can do it with impunity.

"Under such circumstances, it appears to me, that the scheme of instructing the Hottentots is radically wrong, unless it be accompanied with such an arrangement, as shall place them permanently beyond the power of their masters. Situated as they are at present, its only effect will be to add to the other bad passions, of which they have been so long the victims, that of envy at their superior attainments. An instructed and intelligent race of people, serving another race, which is neither intelligent nor instructed, would be a monster in human society, of which there is no example on record. To instruct the menial, without first instructing the master, can serve no useful purpose. If this devoted race is to experience any alleviation of its misery, during the future part of its progress to extinction, it must be effected by infusing the principles of humanity into the bosoms of those who hold its destiny in their hands.

"It is nonsense to dissemble. We may safely prognosticate the speedy annihilation of the Hottentot race, by the natural progress of society, and the rapid increase of population, with which it can neither mix nor amalgamate. Who is there, indeed, that cannot discern from afar the fate of America impending over the whole of this continent? When the energy, the industry, and genius of Europe are pitted against the ignorance, the indolence, and the apathy of Africa, the final issue, though it may be distant, cannot be doubtful: and if such a revolution could be effected in the progress of time, and without those wars and convulsions which usually attend the collision of nations, is it not a consumation devoutly to be wished?"'-pp. 51, 52.

This last paragraph wears a prophetic appearance. Every succeeding year seems to bring us nearer and nearer to the interior of Africa; and the lively fears and prejudices of the natives, which teach them to believe that the Europeans entertain the design of conquering and peopling their territory, would seem, in truth, only to warn them of the approach of events, which are predestined to take place. That the retention of Algiers by France, will materially assist in the accomplishment of this object, we may readily admit; at the same time that we express our jealousy of the influence which such a possession will give them, over a very important section of that continent.

ART. II.--The Correspondence of Isaac Basire, D.D., Archdeacon of Northumberland, and Prebendary of Durham, in the reigns of Charles I., and Charles II.; with a Memoir of his Life. By W. N. Darnell, B.D., Rector of Stanhope. 8vo. pp. 393. London: Murray. 1831.

THE light which is thrown on the reigns of the first and second Charles, and upon the interval of the Commonwealth, by the correspondence of Dr. Basire, is faint and limited yet, such as it is, we are glad that it has been drawn forth from its secluded repository, in the library of the Dean and Chapter of Durham. The manners, characters, and notions of men are always better painted in their private letters, than in any other record which they leave behind them. We have here their most secret thoughts, and, however they may seek sometimes to disguise their genuine dispositions, and set themselves off as infinitely better than they really are, the truth generally comes out in their written communications with each other. Incidentally, they pourtray, not only their minds, but the features of the age in which they live, and the habits of domestic life; and thus they become, often, the most useful, as well as the most interesting, auxiliaries of the historian. We cannot now expect the discovery of many letters of importance, connected with the annals of this country. There is scarcely a private collection in the kingdom that has not been ransacked, for the instruction and gratification of the public. We must not hope to meet with

the diary of an Evelyn or a Pepys every day; and instead, therefore, of treating with neglect such a series of letters as that now before us, because it is not of the utmost possible value, we ought rather to receive it with indulgence, and with not a little gratitude towards the Rev. gentleman who has taken the trouble to present it to the world.

The correspondence arranged by Mr. Darnell in this work, is connected by a very slender narrative, for the barrenness of which he has thought it necessary to apologize. In our humble opinion. the apology was not at all required; Dr. Basire was very little known in his own day, beyond the precincts of a narrow circle; we recognize nothing very amiable in his character, no eminent learning or talent connected with his name, which should excite any great curiosity about his personal history. His letters, and those of his friends, are valuable as relics and memorials of the times; but as to his biography, we have here quite as much of it as renders the letters intelligible, and that is sufficient. It will be easily believed, that we are not prone to that kind of enthusiasm, which has induced Mr. Darnell to exalt the subject of his labours to an ecclesiastical hero, 'a true son of the church of England, and a distinguished sufferer in her cause.' We have no desire to censure his partialities, although we must observe, that, if Dr. Basire was a true son of that church, she must have been but an indifferent sort of a mother, not to have produced a better specimen, 'before,' as he expresses it, 'her spirit was broken by the encroachments of sectarianism.' It is amusing to read such language as this, coming from the pen of a rector, who is himself a sectarian of the first degree, aye, and a sectarian, too, who holds his living by means of one of those very encroachments, which, it seems, he cannot tolerate in others.

Basire was a native of Rouen in Normandy, and a member of the lowest order of French noblesse. He appears to have received an excellent education, first at the University of Rotterdam, and afterwards at Leyden. We are not informed of the steps by which, after his ordination, he became chaplain to Dr. Morton, Bishop of Durham, an office which he filled in 1632. In that year we find a letter addressed to him by the celebrated Vossius, who was then living at Amsterdam, where he was attached to the college, as Professor of History. The epistle is a very insignificant one, being filled with empty compliments and pedantry, and by no means worthy of the author of the Pelagian history. The 'true son of the church of England,' writes to Vossius in an equally fulsome style, the correspondence being carried on in Latin, and utters what would be considered heresy in these more enlightened days, for he tells his friend that 'he at times turns to the Greek Fathers, whose writings he holds as only inferior in authority to the Holy Scriptures.' If Mr. Darnell said as much, he would be turned out of his rectory. In the midst of his duties and studies, Basire had the