(though not above sixteen feet long) he scruples not to engage the whale himself. The sun-fish is one round mass of flesh; only it has two fins, which act the part of oars. The polypus, with its numerous feet and claws, seems fitted only to crawl. Yet an excrescence rising on the back enables it to steer a steady course in the waves. The shell of the nautilus forms a kind of boat, and he unfurls a membrane to the wind for a sail. He extends also two arms, with which, as with oars, he rows himself along. When he is disposed to dive, he strikes sail, and at once sinks to the bottom. When the weather is calm, he mounts again, and performs his voyage without either chart or compass.

Here are shoals upon shoals of every size and form. Some lodged in their shells, seem to have no higher employ, than imbibing nutriment, and are almost rooted to the rocks on which they lie; while others shoot along the yielding flood, and range the spacious regions of the deep. How various in their figure! The shells of some seem to be the rude productions of chance rather than of skill or design. Yet even in these we find the nicest dispositions. Uncouth as they are, they are exactly suited to the exigencies of their respective tenants. Some on the other hand are extremely neat. Their structure is all symmetry and elegance. No enamel is comparable to their polish. Not a room in all the palaces of Europe is so adorned as the bedchamber of the little fish that dwells in mother of pearl. Where else is such a mixture of red, blue and green, so delightfully staining the most clear and glistering ground?

But what I admire more than all their beauty, is the provision made for their safety. As they have no speed to escape, so they have no dexterity to elude their foe. So that were they naked, they must be an easy prey to every free-booter. To prevent this, what is only clothing to other animals, is to them a clothing, an house, and a castle. They have a fortification which grows with them, and is a part of themselves. And by means of this they live secure amidst millions of ravenous jaws.

Here dwell mackerel, herring, and various other kinds, which when lean wan der up and down the ocean: but when fat they throng our creeks and bays, or haunt the running streams. Who bids these

creatures leave our shores when they become unfit for our service? Who rallies and recails the undisciplined vagrants, as soon as they are improved into desirable food? Surely the furlow is signed, the summons issued, and the point of re. union settled, by a Providence ever indul. gent to mankind, ever loading us with be nefits.

These approach, while those of enormous size and appearance abandon our shores. The latter would fright the valua ble fish from our coasts; they are there. fore kept in abysses of the ocean: just as wild beasts, impelled by the same overruling power, hide themselves in the recesses of the forest.

One circumstance relating to the natives of the deep is very astonishing. As they are continually obliged to devour one another for necessary subsistence, without extraordinary recruits, the whole watery race must soon be totally extinct. Were they to bring forth no more at a birth than land animals, the increase would be far too small for the consumption. The weaker species would soon be destroyed by the stronger, and the stronger themselves must soon after perish. Therefore to supply millions of animals with their food, and yet not depopulate the watry realms, the issue produced by every breeder is almost incredible. They spawn not by scores, but by millions: a single female is preg nant with a nation. Mr. Lawenhock counted in an ordinary cod, 9,384,000 eggs. By this amazing expedient, constant reparation is made, proportionable to the immense havock.

And as the sea abounds with animal inhabitants, so it does also with vegetable productions: some soft as wool, others hard as stone. Some rise like a leafless shrub, some are expanded in the form of 3 net; some grow with their heads downwards, and seem rather hanging on, than springing from the juttings of the rocks. But as we know few particulars concerning these, I would only offer one remark in general. The herbs and trees on the dry land are fed by the juices that permeate the soil, and fluctuate in the air. For this purpose they are furnished with leaves to collect the one, and with roots to attract the other. Whereas the sea plants, having sufficient nourishment in the circumambient waters, have no need to detach roots into the ground, or forage the earth for suste

nance.

nance. Instead therefore of penetrating, they are but just tacked to the bottom, and adhere to some solid substance only with such a degree of tenacity, as may secure them from being tost to and fro by the agitation of the waves.

We see from this, and numberless other instances, what diversity there is in the operations of the great Creator. Yet every alteration is an improvement, and each new pattern has a peculiar fitness of

its own.

Considered in another view, the sea is that grand reservoir which supplies the earth with its fertility and the air and sun are the mighty engines, which work without intermission, to raise the water from this inexhaustible cistern. The clouds as aqueducts convey the genial stores along the atmosphere, and distribute them in seasonable and regular proportions, through all the regions of the globe.

How hardly do we extract a drop of perfectly sweet water from this vast pit of brine? Yet the sun draws off every moment millions of tons in vaporous exhalations, which being securely lodged in the bottles of heaven, are sent abroad sweetened and refined without the least brackish tincture, or bituminous sediment: sent abroad upon the wings of the wind, to distil its dews and rain, to ooze in fountains, to trickle along in rivulets, to roll from the sides of mountains, to flow in copious streams, amidst burning desarts and through populous kingdoms, in order to refresh and fertilize, to beautify and enrich every soil in every clime.

How amiable is the goodness, how amazing the power, of the world's adorable Maker? How amiable his goodness, in distributing so largely what is so extensively beneficial! That water, without which we can scarce perform any business, or enjoy any comfort, should stream by our houses, start up from the ground, drop down from the clouds! Should come from the ends of the earth, to serve us, from the extremities of the ocean! How amazing his power! That this boundless mass of fluid salt, so intolerably nauseous to the taste, should be the original spring, which quenches the thirst both of man and every animal! Doubtless the power by which this is effected, can make all things work together for our good.

Vast and various are the advantages

which we receive from this liquid element. The waters glide on in spacious currents, which not only cheer the adjacent country, but by giving a brisk motion to the air, prevent the stagnation of the vapours. They pass by large cities, and quietly rid them of a thousand nuisances. But they are also fit for more honourable services. They enter the gardens of a prince, float in the canal, ascend in the jet d'eau, or fall in the grand cascade. In another kind they ply at our mills, toil incessantly at the wheel, and by working the largest engines, take upon them an unknown share of our fatigue, and save us both labour, time, and expense.

So forcibly do they act when collected. And how do they insinuate when detached? They penetrate the minutest tubes of a plant, and find a passage through all its meanders. With how much difficulty does the labourer push his way up the rounds of a ladder: While these carry their loads to a much greater height, and climb with the utmost ease. They convey

nourishment from the lowest fibres that are plunged in the earth, to the topmost twigs that wave amidst the clouds. Thus they furnish the whole vegetable world with necessary provision, by means of which the trees of the Lord are full of sap, even the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted. And notwithstanding their vast elevation and prodigious diffusion, not a single branch is destitute of leaves, nor a single leaf of moisture.

Besides the salutary and useful circulation of the rivers, the sea has a motion no less advantageous. Daily for five or six hours, it flows towards the land, and for the same time, retires to its inmost caverns. How great is the power that protrudes. to the shores such an inconceivable weight of waters, without any concurrence from the winds, often in direct opposition to them? Which bids the mighty element revolve with the most exact punctuality? Did it advance with a lawless and unlimited swell, it might deluge whole continents. Was it irregular and uncertain in its approaches, navigation would be at a stand. But being constant in its stated period, and never exceeding its appointed bounds, it does no prejudice to the country and serves all the ends of traffic.

Is the sailor returned from his voyage? The flux is ready to convey his vessel to the very doors of the owner, without any

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hazard of striking on the rocks, or of being fastened in the sands. Has the merchant freighted his ship? The reflux bears it away with the utmost expedition and safety. Behold, O man, how highly thou art favoured by the Maker! He hath put all things in subjection under thy feet. All sheep and oxen, all the beasts of the field; the fowls of the air, and the fishes of the sea. Yea, the surges of the sea are subservient to thee. Even these, wild and impetuous as they are, are ready to receive thy load, and like an indefatigable beast of burthen, carry it to the place which

Consider the sea in another capacity, and it connects the remotest realms of the universe, by facilitating the intercourse between their respective inhabitants. The ancients indeed looked on the ocean as an impassable gulph. But we find it just the reverse; not a bar of separation, but the great bond of union. For this purpose it is never exhausted though it supplies the whole earth with rain; nor overflows, though all the rivers in the universe are perpetually augmenting its stores.

By

means of this we travel farther, than birds of the strongest pinions fly. We cross the flaming line, visit the frozen pole, and wing our way even round the globe.

What a multitude of ships are continually passing and repassing this universal thoroughfare! Whole harvests of corn, and vintages of wine, lodged in volatile store-houses, are wafted by the breath of heaven, to the very ends of the earth; wafted, enormous and unwieldy as they are, almost as speedily as the roe bounds over the hills.

Astonishing, that an element so unstable, should bear so immense a weight! That the thin air should drive on with such speed those vast bodies, which the strength of a legion could scarce move! That the air

and water should carry to the distance of many thousand miles, what the united force of men and machines could scarce drag a single yard!

How are the mariners conducted through this fluid common, than which nothing is more wide or more wild? Here is no tract, no posts of direction, nor any hut where the traveller may ask his way. Are they guided by a pillar of fire? No, but by a mean and otherwise worthless fossil. Till this surprising stone was discovered, ships crept timorously along the coasts. But this guides then, when nothing but skies are seen above, and nothing but seas below. This gives intelligence that shines clear in the thickest darkness, and remains steady in the most tempestuous agitations. This emboldens us to launch into the heart of the ocean, and to range from pole to pole. By this means are imported to our islands the choice productions of every nation under heaven. Every tide conveys into our ports, the treasures of the remotest climes. And almost every private house in the kingdom, is accommodated from the four quarters of the globe. At

the same time that the sea adorns the abodes of the rich, it employs the hands of the poor. What a multitude of people ac quire a livelihood, by preparing commo. dities for exportation? And what a multitude by manufacturing the wares imported from abroad? Thus, though it is a false supposition, that the waters themselves are strained through subterranean passages into the inland countries, yet it is true, that their effects are transfused into every town, every hamlet, and every cottage.

$3. Reflections on the Atmosphere.

If we turn our thoughts to the atmosphere, we find a most curious and exqui site apparatus of air. This is a source of innumerable advantages; all which are fetched from the very jaws of ruin. To explain this. The pressure of the air on a person of a moderate size is equal to the weight of twenty thousand pounds. Tremendous consideration! Should an house fall upon us with half that force, it would break every bone of our bodies. Yet so admirably has the Divine wisdom contrived the air, and so nicely counter. poised its dreadful power, that we suffer no manner of inconvenience: we even enjoy the load. Instead of being as a mountain

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on our loins, it is wings to our feet, or sinews to our limbs. Is not this common ordination of Providence somewhat like the miracle of the burning bush? Well may we say unto God, O how terrible, yet how beneficent, art thou in thy works! The air, though too weak to support our flight, is a thoroughfare for innumerable wings. Here the whole commonwealth of birds expatiate, beyond the reach of their adversaries. Were they to run upon the earth, they would be in ten thousind dangers, without strength to resist, or speed to escape them: whereas by mounting the skies, they are secure from peril, they scorn the horse and his rider. Some of them perching on the boughs, or soaring aloft, entertain us with their notes. Many of them yield us wholesome and agreeable food, and yet give us no trouble, put us to no expense; but till the time we want them, are wholly out of the way.

The air is charged also with several offices, absolutely needful for mankind. In our lungs it ventilates the blood, qualifes its warmth, promotes the animal secretions. We might live even months, without the light of the sun, yea, or the glimmering of a star. Whereas, if we are deprived but a few minutes of this, we sicken, we faint, we die. The same universal nurse has a considerable share in cherishing the several tribes of plants. It transfuses vegetable vigour into the trunk. of an oak, and a blooming gaiety into the leaves of a rose.

The air likewise conveys to our nostrils the extremely subtle effluvia which exhale from odoriferous bodies; particles so small, that they elude the most careful hand. But this receives and transmits the invisible vagrants, without losing even a single atom; entertaining us with the delightful sensations that arise from the fragrance of flowers, and admonishing us to withdraw from an unwholesome situation, to beware of pernicious food.

The air by its undulating motion conducts to our ear all the diversities of sound. While danger is at a considerable distance, this advertises us of its approach; and with a clamorous but kind importunity, urges us to provide for our safety.

The air wafts to our sense all the modulations of music, and the more agreeable entertainments of conversation. It distributes every musical variation with the utmost exactness, and delivers the mes

sage of the speaker with the utmost punctual fidelity: where, without this internuncio, all would be sullen and unmeaning silence. We should neither be charmed by the harmonious, nor improved by the articulate accents.

How gentle are the breezes of the air when unconfined! but when collected, they act with such immense force, as is sufficient to whirl round the hugest wheels, though clogged with the most encumbering loads. They make the ponderous millstones move as swiftly as the dancer's heel; and the massy beams play as nimbly as the musician's fingers.

In the higher regions there is an endless succession of clouds, fed by evaporations from the ocean. The clouds are themselves a kind of ocean, suspended in the air. They travel in detached parties, over all the terrestrial globe. They fructify, by proper communications of moisture, the spacious pastures of the wealthy, and gladden with no less liberal showers the cottager's little spot.

Nay, they satisfy the desolate and waste ground, and cause the bud of the tender herb to spring forth; that the natives of the lonely desert, the herds which know no master's stall, may nevertheless experience the care of an all-supporting parent.

How wonderful! that pendant lakes should be diffused, fluid mountains heaped over our heads, and both sustained in the thinnest part of the atmosphere! How surprising is the expedient which, without vessels of stone or brass, keeps such loads of water in a buoyant state! Job considered this with holy admiration. Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds? How such ponderous bodies are made to hang in even poise, and hover like the lightest down? He bindeth up the waters in his thick cloud: and the cloud, though nothing is more loose and fluid, becomes by his order tenacious, as casks of iron, is not rent under all the weight.

ing away its fruits, they cherish universal nature, and (like their great Master) dis-, tribute their stores to men, animals, vegetables, as they are able to bear them.

But beside waters, here are cantoned various parties of winds, mild or fierce, gentle or boisterous, furnished with breezy wings, to fan the glowing firmament, or else fitted to act as an universal besom, and by sweeping the chambers of the atmosphere to cleanse the fine aerial fluid. Without this wholesome agency of the winds, the air would stagnate and become putrid: so that all the great cities in the world, instead of being seats of elegance, would degenerate into sinks of corruption. At sea, the winds swell the mariner's sails, and speed his course along the watery way. By land they perform the office of an immense seedsman, scattering abroad the seeds of numberless plants, which, though the support of many animals, are too small for the management, or too mean for the attention of man.

Here are lightnings stationed, in act to spring whenever their piercing flash is necessary, either to destroy the sulphureous vapours, or dislodge any other noxious matter, which might prejudice the delicate temperature of either, and obscure its more than crystalline transparency.

Above all is situate a radiant and majestic orb, which enlightens and cheers the inhabitants of the earth: while the air, by a singular address, amplifies its usefulness. Its reflecting power augments that heat, which is the life of nature: its refracting power prolongs that splendour, which is the beauty of the creation.

I say, augments the heat. For the air is a cover which, without oppressing us with any perceivable weight, confines, reflects, and thereby increases the vivifying heat of the sun. The air increases this, much in the same manner as our clothes give additional heat to our body: whereas when it is less in quantity, when it is attenuated, the solar heat is very sensibly diminished. Travellers on the lofty mountains of America, sometimes experience this to their cost. Though the clime at the foot of those vast mountains is extremely hot and sultry, yet at the top the cold is so excessive, as often to freeze both the horse and rider to death. We have therefore great reason to praise God, for placing us in the commodious concavity, the cherishing wings of an atmosphere.

The emanations of light, though form. ed of inactive matter, yet (astonishing power of divine wisdom!) are refined almost to the subtlety of spirit, and are scarce inferior even to thought in speed. By which means they spread with almost instantaneous swiftness, through an whole hemisphere: and though they fill whatever they pervade, yet they straiten no place, embarrass no one, encumber nothing.

Every where indeed, and in every element, we may discern the footsteps of the Creator's wisdom. The spacious canopy over our heads is painted with blue; and the ample carpet under our feet is tinged with green. These colours, by their soft and cheering qualities, yield a perpetual refreshment to the eye. Whereas had the face of nature glistered with white, or glowed with scarlet, such dazzling hues, instead of cheering, would have fatigued the sight. Besides, as the several brighter colours are interspersed, and form the pictures in this magnificent piece, the green and the blue make an admirable ground, which shews them all to the utmost advantage.

Had the air been much grosser, it would have dimmed the rays of the sun and darkened the day. Our lungs would have been clogged in their vital function, and men drowned or suffocated therein. Were it much more subtile, birds would not be able to wing their way through the firmament: neither could the clouds be sustained, in so thin an atmosphere. It would elude likewise the organs of respiration : we should gasp for breath with as much difficulty and as little success as fishes do, when out of their native element.

§ 4. Reflections on the Vegetable Creation.

As to vegetation itself, we are sensible all our reasonings about the wonderful ope rations of nature are so full of uncertainty, that, as the wise man truly observes, Hardly do we guess aright at the things that are upon earth, and with labour do we find the things that are before us. This is abundantly verified in vegetable nature. For though its productions are so obvious to us, yet are we strangely in the dark concerning them, because the texture of their vessels is so fine and intricate, that we can trace but few of them, though assisted with the best microscopes. But although we can never hope to come to the bottom and