portance beyond anything that ever came to my lot to witness.' When the English approached the summit of Breed's Hill the Americans encountered them with great coolness and determination, reserving their fire till within eighty or a hundred yards, and then pouring it with deadly aim. Then were blown to the winds the silly predictions of Lord Sandwich and Colonel Grant as to the alleged deficiency of courage in the colonists; predictions which, besides being in this case utterly false and groundless, have always a manifest tendency to defeat themselves. Such predictions, it is plain, had not been forgotten by those whose honour they assailed. It is said, that when one of the English regiments drew nearer than the rest, many of the Americans opposite called out to its commanding officer, 'Colonel Abercrombie, are the Yankees cowards?' and most clearly they were not. On the other hand, the British troops had grievous odds against them. By the unskilful directions of their chiefs they were encumbered with three days' provision, and their knapsacks on their backs. Under this heavy load and beneath a burning sun, they had toiled up a rugged hill covered with long grass reaching to their knees, and intersected by various fences and inclosures; and instead of being brought to attack the American force in flank, which would have been equally effectual for dislodging it, they had been led on directly in front, where the ascent was steepest and where the intrenchment was strongest. With these previous disadvantages, and now exposed to the close and well-directed fire of their enemy, they wavered, gave way, and fell back in disorder towards the landing-place. Here they were quickly rallied by their officers, and a second time led up to the charge. But by another blunder of those placed in authority over them, a supply of ball for the field-artillery, being sent from the ordnance department at Boston, was found to be of larger dimension than fitted the calibre of their guns, and this oversight of course prevented the further use of the field-artillery that day. Again did the Americans from behind their intrenchments pour upon them a destructive fire. Again were they repulsed and driven in confusion down the hill. At this critical moment General Clinton, without waiting for orders, put himself at the head of a small detachment (two battalions) which hastened over in boats from Boston. The reinforcement though small was most seasonable, and the presence of Clinton himself proved of material service in rallying the soldiers, and preparing them for another onset. To that onset, the third and last, weary as they were, they rushed up with irresistible impetuosity, carrying the enemy's redoubts at the point of the bayonet. By this time the American's supply of powder had began to fail; still they fought on bravely, and even, it is said, maintained the contest

with their clubbed muskets, until at last they were dislodged and put to flight. Though retreating in utter disarray, there was no more than a show of pursuit against them; but they suffered severely in passing Charlestown Neck from the crossfire of two floating batteries and of the 'Glasgow' man-of-war. And thus, only changing the numbers but retaining the phrase of a gallant officer in relating another gallant exploit, we may say that the remnant of five and twenty hundred unconquerable British soldiers stood triumphant on the fatal hill!'

Such was the battle which, not quite aptly, considering the disposition of the ground, has received from the neighbouring height the name of Bunker's Hill. The loss of the British was immense, considering the number engaged. Of that number well-nigh half had fallen; above 220 killed, above 820 wounded. The Americans, as having fought behind intrenchments suffered far less severely: according to their own account the entire loss in killed and wounded was under 450. None among their slain was more lamented than their DoctorGeneral Warren, a man in the prime of life, of tried energy, great powers of persuasion, and highly promising abilities.

The Americans at that period-and some of them even to the present day-have claimed the battle of Bunker's Hill as a victory. Yet, considering that the British were left in possession of the ground and maintained it for several months to come, and considering also that of six pieces of artillery which the Americans brought into action they carried away but one, there can surely be no question that, according to the rules of war, they must be considered as defeated. It may be acknowledged, however, that none of the more substantial fruits of success were on this occasion gathered by the English. The peninsula of Charlestown proved but a barren acquisition to them, since it was comprised in the blockade of Boston by the enemy's lines. And General Washington, arriving at headquarters about a fortnight afterwards, and assuming the chief command, immediately applied himself to strengthen and support those lines by throwing up new intrenchments, stationing new outposts, and adopting every other precaution, so far as his means allowed, to hem in the British troops and prevent them from issuing forth as invaders of the open country.

Flooring, &c. :

MENSURATION.

(1) How many squares (each 100 sq. ft.) are there in the floor of a hall measuring 85 ft. by 36 ft.?

What would be the cost of the above at 15s. 6d. per square? What must be paid for roofing a house 70 ft. by 40 ft. at 10s. 8d. per square?

A SKETCH OF MODERN ASTRONOMY.

(From 'A Series of Discourses on Christian Revelation, viewed in Connection with Modern Astronomy,' by Dr. Chalmers.)

di-min'-u-tive, small

me-trop'-o-lis, the chief city of a country

plan'-et, a heavenly body revolving round top'-i-cal, local, relating to particular

We all know that every visible object appears less in magnitude as it recedes from the eye. The lofty vessel, as it retires from the coast, shrinks into littleness, and at last appears in the form of a small speck on the verge of the horizon. The eagle, with its expanded wings, is a noble object; but when it takes its flight into the upper regions of the air, it becomes less to the eye, and is seen like a dark spot upon the vault of heaven. The same is true of all magnitude. The heavenly bodies appear small to the eye of an inhabitant of this earth, only from the immensity of their distance. When we talk of hundreds of millions of miles, it is not to be listened to as incredible for remember, we are talking of those bodies which are scattered over the immensity of space, and that space knows no termination. The conception is great and difficult, but the truth is unquestionable. By a process of measurement which it is unnecessary at present to explain, we have ascertained first the distance, and then the magnitude of some of those bodies which roll in the firmament; that the sun, which presents itself to the eye under so diminutive a form, is really a globe, exceeding, by many thousands of times, the dimensions of the earth which we inhabit; that the moon itself has the magnitude of a world; and that even a few of those stars, which appear like so many lucid points to the unassisted eye of the observer, expand into large circles upon the application of the telescope, and are some of them much larger than the ball which we tread upon, and to which we proudly apply the denomination of the universe.

Now, what is the fair and obvious presumption? The world in which we live is a round ball of a determined magnitude, and occupies its own place in the firmament. But when we explore the unlimited tracts of that space which is everywhere around us, we meet with other balls of equal or superior magnitude; and from which our earth would either be invisible, or appear as small as any of those twinkling stars which are seen on the canopy of heaven. Why then suppose that this little

spot, little at least in the immensity which surrounds it, should be the exclusive abode of life and intelligence? What reason to think that those mightier globes which roll in other parts of creation, and which we have discovered to be worlds in magnitude, are not also worlds in use and in dignity? Why should we think that the great Architect of Nature, supreme in wisdom as He is in power, would call these stately mansions into existence, and leave them unoccupied? When we cast our eye over the broad sea, and look at the country on the other side, we see nothing but the blue land stretching obscurely over the distant horizon. We are too far away to perceive the richness of its scenery, or to hear the sound of its population. Why not extend this principle to the still more distant parts of the universe? What though, from this remote point of observation, we can see nothing but the naked roundness of yon planetary orbs? Are we therefore to say, that they are so many vast and unpeopled solitudes; that desolation reigns in every part of the universe but ours; that the whole energy of the divine attributes is expended on one insignificant corner of these mighty works; and that to this earth alone belongs the bloom of vegetation, or the blessedness of life, or the dignity of rational and immortal existence? But this is not all. We have something more than the mere magnitude of the planets to allege, in favour of the idea that they are inhabited. We know that this earth turns round upon itself; and we observe that all those celestial bodies which are accessible to such an observation have the same movement. We know that the earth performs a yearly revolution round the sun; and we can detect in all the planets which compose our system a revolution of the same kind, and under the same circumstances. They have the same succession of day and night. They have the same agreeable vicissitude of the seasons. To them, light and darkness succeed each other; and the gaiety of summer is followed by the dreariness of winter. To each of them the heavens present as varied and magnificent a spectacle; and this earth, the encompassing of which would require the labour of years from one of its puny inhabitants, is but one of the lesser lights which sparkle in their firmament. To them, as well as to us, has God divided the light from the darkness, and he has called the light day, and the darkness he has called night. He has said, let there be lights in the firmament of their heaven, to divide the day from the night; and let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for years; and let them be for lights in the firmament of heaven to give light upon their earth; and it was so. And God has also made to them great lights. To all of them He has given the sun to rule the day; and to many of them has He given moons to rule the night. To

them He has made the stars also. And God has set them in the firmament of heaven, to give light upon their earth; and to rule over the day, and over the night, and to divide the light from the darkness; and God has seen that it was good.

In all these greater arrangements of divine wisdom, we can see that God has done the same things for the accommodation of the planets that He has done for the earth which we inhabit. And shall we say that the resemblance stops here, because we are not in a situation to observe it? Shall we say that this scene of magnificence has been called into being merely for the amusement of a few astronomers? Shall we measure the counsels of heaven by the narrow impotence of the human faculties or conceive that silence and solitude reign throughout the mighty empire of nature; that the greater part of creation is an empty parade; and that not a worshipper of the Divinity is to be found through the wide extent of yon vast and immeasurable regions?

It lends a delightful confirmation to the argument, when, from the growing perfection of our instruments, we can discover a new point of resemblance between our earth and the other bodies of the planetary system. It is now ascertained, not merely that all of them have their day and night, and that all of them have their vicissitudes of seasons, and that some of them have their moons to rule their night, and alleviate the darkness of it. We can see of one, that its surface rises into inequalities, that it swells into mountains and stretches into valleys; of another, that it is surrounded by an atmosphere which may support the respiration of animals; of a third, that clouds are formed and suspended over it, which may minister to it all the bloom and luxuriance of vegetation; and of a fourth, that a white colour spreads over its northern regions, as its winter advances, and that on the approach of summer this whiteness is dissipated-giving room to suppose that the element of water abounds in it, that it rises by evaporation into its atmosphere, that it freezes on the application of cold, that it is precipitated in the form of snow, that it covers the ground with a fleecy mantle, which melts away from the heat of a more vertical sun; and that other worlds bear a resemblance to our own, in the same yearly round of beneficent and interesting changes.

Who shall assign a limit to the discoveries of future ages? Who can prescribe to science her boundaries, or restrain the active and insatiable curiosity of man within the circle of his present acquirements? We may guess with plausibility what we cannot anticipate with confidence. The day may yet be coming when our instruments of observation shall be inconceivably more powerful. They may ascertain still more decisive