up the descents of the foaming surf that threatens to burst over their heads; sweeping along the hollow troughs of the sea as in a sheltered valley, and again mounting with the rising billow; and just above its surface, occasionally dropping their feet, which striking the water, throw them up again with additional force; sometimes leaping with both legs parallel, on the surface of the roughest waves for several yards at a time. Meanwhile they continue coursing from side to side of the ship's wake, making excursions far and wide, returning again to the ship as if she were stationary, though perhaps running at the rate of ten knots an hour. But the most singular peculiarity of this bird is its faculty of standing, and even running, on the surface of the water, which it performs with apparent facility.

There are few persons who have crossed the Atlantic that have not observed these solitary wanderers of the deep, skimming along the surface of the wild and wasteful ocean; flitting past the vessel like the swallows; or following in her wake, gleaning their scanty pittance of food from the rough and whirling surges. Habited in

mourning, and making their appearances generally in greater numbers previous to, or during a storm, they have long been fearfully regarded by the ignorant and superstitious, not only as the foreboding messengers of tempests and dangers to the hapless mariner, but as wicked agents, connected, some how or other, in creating them. "No

66

body," as sailors say, can tell any thing of whence they

come." This mysterious uncertainty of their origin, and the circumstances above recited, have, doubtless, given rise to the opinion, so prevalent among this class of men, that they are, in some way or other, connected with the prince of the power of the air. In every country where they are known, their names have borne some affinity to this belief. They have been called witches, stormy petrels, the Devil's birds, and mother Cary's chickens; and their unexpected and numerous appearance has frequently thrown a momentary damp over the mind of the hardiest seaman. It is the business of the naturalist, and the glory of philosophy, to examine into the reality of these things; to dissipate the clouds of error and superstition wherever they darken and bewilder the human understanding, and to illustrate nature with the radiance of truth.

As well might the mariner curse the midnight lighthouse, that star-like guides them on their watery way; or the buoy that warns them of the sunken rocks below, as this harmless wanderer, whose manner informs them of the approach of the storm, and thereby enables them to prepare for it. The Petrels are nocturnal birds. When, therefore, they are seen flying about and feeding by day, the fact appears to indicate that they have been driven from their usual quarters by a storm; and hence, perhaps, arose the association of the bird with the tempest. When they cannot, then, find an island or a rock to shield them from the blast, they fly towards the first ship they can descry, crowd into her wake, and even close under the stern: heedless, it would appear of the rushing surge, so that they can keep the vessel between them and the unbroken sweep of the wind. It is not surprising in such cases, that their low wailing note of weet, weet, should add something supernatural to the roar of the waves and whistling of the wind, and infuse an ominous dread into minds prone to superstition.-Wilson.

LOVE TO PARENTS.

To honour those who gave us birth,
To cheer their age, to feel their worth,
Is God's command to human kind,
And own'd by every grateful mind.

Trace then the tender scenes of old,
And all our infant days unfold;
Bring back to view the mother's breast,
Watchful to lull her child to rest.

Survey her toil, her anxious care,
To form the lisping lips to pray'r,
To win for God the yielding soul,
And all his ardent thoughts control.

Nor hold from mem'ry's glad review,
The fears which all the father knew ;
The joy that mark'd his thankful gaze,
As virtue crown'd maturer days.

When press'd by sickness, pain, or grief,
How anxious they to give relief!

Our dearest wish, they held their own;
'Till ours return'd, their peace was flown.

God of our life, each parent guard,
And death's sad hour, oh! long retard;
Be their's each joy that gilds the past,
And heaven our mutual home at last.-Noel.

THE RESULTS OF COMMERCE.

If we consider our own country in its natural prospect, without any of the benefits and advantages of commerce, what a barren, uncomfortable spot of earth falls to our share! Natural historians tell us, that no fruit grows originally among us, that our climate of itself, and without the assistance of art, can make no further advances towards a plum than a sloe, that our melons, our peaches, our figs, our apricots, and cherries are strangers imported in different ages, and naturalized in our gardens; and that they would all degenerate if wholly neglected by the planter, and left to the mercy of our sun and soil.

Nor has traffic more enriched our vegetable world, than it has improved the whole of nature among us. Our ships are laden with the harvest of every climate. Our tables are stored with oils, and spices, and wines; our rooms are filled with pyramids of China, and adorned with the workmanship of Japan; our morning's draught comes to us from the remotest corners of the earth; we repair our bodies by the drugs of America; and repose ourselves under Indian canopies. The vineyards of France have been called our gardens, the spice-islands our hot-beds, the Persians our silk-weavers, and the Chinese our potters. Nature, indeed, furnishes us with the bare necessaries of life, but traffic gives us a great variety of what is useful, and at the same time supplies us with every thing that is convenient and ornamental. Nor is it the least part of our happiness, that whilst we enjoy the remotest products of the north and south, we are free from those extremities of weather which gave them birth; that our eyes are refreshed with green fields, at the same

time that our palates are feasted with fruits that rise between the tropics.

Nature seems to have taken particular care to disseminate her blessings among the different regions of the world, with an eye to this mutual intercourse and traffic among mankind, that the natives of the several parts of the globe might have a kind of dependence upon one another, and be united together by their common interest. Almost every degree produces something peculiar to it. The food often grows in one country and the sauce in another. The fruits of Portugal are corrected by the products of Barbadoes, and the infusion of a China plant is sweetened by the pith of an Indian cane. The Philippine islands give a flavour to our European bowls. The single dress of a woman of quality is often the product of an hundred climates. The muff and the fan come together from the different ends of the earth. The scarf is sent from the torrid zone, and the tippet from beneath the pole. The brocade petticoat rises out of the mines of Peru, and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Hindostan.

Our English merchant converts the tin of his own country into gold, and exchanges its wood for rubies. The Mohammedans are clothed in our British manufacture, and the inhabitants of the frozen zone warmed with the fleeces of our sheep. There are not more useful members in a commonwealth than merchants. They knit mankind together, in a mutual intercourse of good offices, distribute gifts of nature, find work for the poor, add wealth to the rich, and magnificence to the great.Addison.

THE EDUCATION THAT CHILDREN GIVE

THEMSELVES.

THERE is a branch of useful training, which cannot be too heedfully regarded; I mean the education that children give themselves. Their observation is ever alive and awake to the circumstances which pass around them; and from the circumstances thus observed, tinually drawing their own conclusions. vations and conclusions have a powerful

they are conThese obserinfluence in

forming the characters of youth. What is imparted in the way of direct instruction, they are apt to consider as official. It is otherwise with what children discover for themselves. As a matter of self-acquisition, this is treasured up, and reasoned upon; it penetrates the mind, and influences the conduct, beyond all the formal lectures that ever were delivered. Whether it be for good, or whether it be for evil, the education of the child is principally derived from its own observation of the actions, the words, the voice, the looks of those with whom it lives. The fact is unquestionably so; and the friends of youth cannot be too circumspect in their presence, to avoid every, the least appearance of evil. This great moral truth was keenly felt, and powerfully inculcated, even in the heathen world. But the reverence for youth of Christian parents, ought to reach immeasurably further. It is not enough that they set no bad example; it is indispensable that they show forth a good one. It is not enough that they seem virtuous; it is indispensable that they be so. The Christian parent ought to be a living exemplification of Christianity. His house, his habits, his family, his associates, his pursuits, his recreations, ought all to be so regulated, as to evince that religion is, indeed, the parent of order, the inspirer of good sense, the well-spring of good humour, the teacher of good manners, and the perennial source of happiness and peace. Accustomed to live and breathe in such an atmosphere, it is morally impossible that a child can materially go wrong.-Jebb.

THE TIME-PIECE.

WHO is He, so swiftly flying,
His career no eye can see?
Who are They, so early dying,

From their birth they cease to be?
Time:-behold his pictured face!
Moments:-
:-can you count their race?

Though, with aspect deep, dissembling,
Here he feigns unconscious sleep,
Round and round this circle trembling,
Day and night his symbols creep;