tion. It is, therefore, very natural to pay deference to intellectual eminence, and to regard those talents which are acquired by ardent application, as well as to admire the influence of those powers with which nature has endowed the human mind.

A professor of music has open to his view a field which leads to eminence and honor; and is bounded only by the finite nature of the mind. Genius can wanton without restraint, and labor forever, and find new sources to explore; every faculty may be employed, every sense occupied, and the whole soul called forth to display its most secluded operations. The predominance of merit constitutes professional, as it does individual character, in each of these avocations. Professors will be found of great and original talents, and of strenuous and aspiring minds, wonderful alike for the vigor of their intellectual strength, and acuteness of principle of action; and though severe, it is but truth to remark, that in each, characters will be found, who add nothing to their profession but disgrace and dishonor.

Among many of the literati in musical knowledge, taste and fashion possess an irresistible sway; and it is often that our enjoyment does not proceed from the music itself, but from the self-gratification of being able to play what is new or in vogue, without the possibility of deriving pleasure from the beauties of what is placed before them. It cannot be supposed that musical talent is more rare in this metropolis than in many other places, but it is apprehended that musical education is by no means what it ought to be.

Teachers, in general, are required only to instruct their pupils in the art of reading and moving the fingers; but we very seldom find that the pupils are taught to understand music. How often do we listen to brilliant and accurate execution on the piano forte, but are mortified to find that the player moves the fingers with mere mechanical dexterity, following implicitly what is set down, without seeming to feel the beauties, or to be aware of the defects in the piece. The taste of a composer leads him to mark the most expressive and feeling passages, where his judg

ment dictates; but it is no unfrequent occurrence to find a musician disposed to display his own feelings in opposition to those of the author. It is very dangerous to attempt this, unless done by a sound, thorough-bred musician. The rules of harmony are scarcely ever well understood, even by those whose performances are greatly admired. There are very few persons who can take up a piece of music written in score, and study its harmony; not that they are incapable, but that they have not been taught what should have been the very foundation of a musical education.

A taste for refined music, and a sense of the beauty of complicated works of art, has arisen from the influence of sacred music, and the cultivation of the mind which the continual influence of such performances consequently has produced. The Italians, from the first restoration of the art in their country, have been habituated to the finest and most impressive music, to increase the pomp and enhance the fervor of public worship; and in the well-known and proverbial taste of that people for every species of music, as well as in the unrivalled beauty and celebrity of their composers, we perceive the natural effects of such advantages. Thousands who could never be brought to attend to music as a matter of amusement only, or would despise it as the subject of serious thoughts, are insensibly led to feel its charms when it mingles with their weekly devotions. Greater and more lasting effects may be anticipated on the national taste, from the influence of sacred music, than from the greatest exertions of skill in that which is devoted to mere amusement; and in particular, it is from the habit of hearing the great works of genius in that sublime branch of the art, that a taste for its higher beauties, and an appreciation of its complicated excellencies, is to be acquired.

P*****.

[Furnished for the Tracts and Lyceum.]

FIRST FOOD OF YOUNG FISHES.

THAT law by which fishes are supplied with their first food, after escaping from the egg, is no less interesting than remarkable. The parent manifests no maternal solicitude for the coming progeny, which, when ushered into being, are without a guide, without experience, without sagacity, without protection, without instinctive propensities, without a perfectly developed mouth, without adhesive society, and without anything but food. Ample provision is invariably in store for the young fish, of the best quality and most nutritious character; nor does the supply ever fail, till the tiny animal has strength enough to pursue, and sagacity to discriminate, its appropriate food.

In the egg there is a yolk, which does not enter into the composition of the animal's body, but constitutes a mass of food, destined for the future maintenance of the fish, till it is physically enabled to provide for its own wants. This is the fact in relation to all eggs; the yolk being designed for the exclusive support of the bird, crocodile, serpent, &c., as the case may be. With these latter classes, however, this central portion of the egg is carefully encased in the body, at the time of its birth from the shell. Being located near the stomach, a tube leads into that organ, or the first portion of the intestinal apparatus, through which the yolk flows, from time to time, to be digested, according to the necessities of the young animal. Chickens, goslings, young turkies and ducks, about which farmers feel so much solicitude, have a perfectly whole yolk in their bodies at the time of being hatched; and the reason so many die prematurely is, because they are forced to eat too soon. Let young poultry alone, and when the stock is exhausted which was brought into the world with them, then they give manifestations of a disposition to feed.

Fishes, on the contrary, carry the yolk by a suspensary bag, at the underside of their bodies. As the matter passes upward into the stomach, through the pipe by which

the sac is connected to the body, the bulk becomes smaller and smaller from day to day, till it entirely disappears.

The annexed drawing shows precisely the appearance of a young blue shark, when short of a week old, as it freely swims about with a store-house of food. In the cartilaginous fishes, the sac is very much larger, in proportion to the size of the individual to which it is appended, than in the variety called osseous fishes. Probably a longer period is requisite for the young shark to prepare to hunt for itself, than the more peaceably disposed tribes, which have bony skeletons.

NATIVE DYES.

THE early Dutch settlers of New-York turned their attention to improving the dyes of the country. Great hopes were entertained from the wild indigo; and they not only supposed that the common indigo might be raised to great advantage, but they actually tried the experiment. Seed was imported from Holland. The first attempt failed, owing, as it was supposed, to an extraordinary drought, which prevented the plant from coming to maturity; but another experiment completely succeeded. The seed was sown near New Amsterdam, (New-York) and a great crop

was obtained; specimens were sent to the mother country, where good judges pronounced it of a superior quality. But what is more extraordinary is, that there is reason to believe that it was contemplated to introduce the famous orchilla weed. When the Spaniards discovered the Canary Islands they sought for it as eagerly as they did for gold. It was probable that it was made use of to produce the gertulian purple of the ancients; and they also had in their view other vegetable dyes, which we cannot now accurately designate. The crap plant,' says Van der Donk, 'for dying red, is not cultivated in New Netherland, but it is not to be questioned, that if it were tried it would yield well.

ENTOMOLOGY.

DR. SMITH, the celebrated President of the Linnæan Society, observes, that botany necessarily leads to the study of insects; for it is impossible to investigate plants, in their native situations, without having our attention perpetually awakened by the infinite variety of those little active beings, employed in a thousand different ways, in supplying themselves with food and lodging, in repulsing the attacks of their enemies, or in exercising a more than Asiatic despotism over myriads below them: and he exultingly exclaims, that in England, no branch of natural history, after botany, has, for some years, had more attention paid to it than entomology; while with us, to adopt the language of Dr. Barton, Notwithstanding the importance of the science of entomology, the history of our insects has hitherto excited but little attention.'