and die. The snow-drop shewed its delicate flower above the ground several weeks since, long before the trees ventured to unfold their leaves, even whilst ice and snow still covered the earth. The crocus next appeared, timidly shrinking from the impetuous winds; at the same time were seen the sweet violet and the auricula. These were the joyful harbingers of the numerous flowers that now refresh us.

At this period also a succession of flowers is observed, and every month exhibits new ornaments peculiar to itself. The tulip begins to develop its rich leaves and flowers; and speedily the beautiful anemone will form its full round eup, the ranunculus expand all the magnificence of its leaves, and the opening rose spread its beauties to the morning sun, and fills the air with its perfuming fragrance; nor will the elegant pink, with its graceful charms, be wanting in the beauteous assemblage.

By the wise arrangement displayed in the regular suc cession of flowers we derive the greatest advantages; for if they all flourished at the same time we should either have them in excessive abundance, or we should experience a total privation. But now, that each species has its determinate time and season, we can contemplate them at our leisure, and enjoy them with greater convenience; we can dwell longer upon their beauties, and examine each singly without the confusion of numbers. And by the constant succession of flowers we do not suffer from the shortness of their continuance; for the pain of seeing one die is solaced by the budding of another, and our gardens during a great part of the year present, as well as attract, the face of youth and beauty. The field of nature is open to all, and he who prefers the sting of thorns may gratify his inclination as well as he who delights in seeing flowers and sweet enjoyment attend upon all his steps. As flowers suc ceed to each other, so do the individuals composing the human race; as some are born, others are returning to their native dust; and as some are just beginning to be useful to the world, others are leaving the great theatre of life whilst new actors begin to play their parts.

MAY XV.

Zoophites.

ZOOPHITES may be considered as insects partaking both of the nature of an animal and a plant. By their externst configuration, their remaining in one place, and their producing themselves by buds and seeds, they very much resemble plants; like which they also may be propagated by grafts and slips. Their animal nature is only known. by their sensibility and voluntary motion. The greater part of zoophites put forth a kind of root in the sea and waters where they live; some of them grow in stony calcareous substances, and others are covered by a shell, which resembles horn, whilst many are soft and fleshy. They all possess in common the power of self-producing new zoophites; and whilst the young ones are attached to the parent stalk, they form but one animal; but as soon as they are separated from the stem, they have a proper existence by themselves.

Zoophites also multiply themselves in a way very similar to that of plants. They form a species of germ containing a young zoophite, which grows for some time on the stalk, and, at length falling off, becomes a complete animal. They do not appear to possess either brain, heart, veins, or arteries; but their whole body from the beginning to the extremity, forms a hollow tube, which may be regarded as one continued stomach or intestinal canal. By the discovery of this humble class of beings in the creation, in the beginning of the seventeenth century, the the volume of natural bistory has increased, and our ideas of the gradation of beings extended. The links between animal and vegetable nature are extremely imperceptible, and difficult to define. The only distinguishing characteristie is supposed to be, that plants have neither sensation nor motion, whilst every species of animal both feels and moves; but the shades between these are so finely drawn, as in many instances to be impenetrable to the researches of the curious, who often assert for truth, discoveries which are only within the probability of conjecture.

MAY XVI.

Pleasures derived from the Cultivation of Fields and Gardens.

THE cultivation of fields and gardens is one of the most delightful of all occupations, and perhaps the only one the toil of which is recompensed with much pleasure. The greater part of laborious employments confine a man to his shop, or within his house; whilst he who devotes himself to agricultural pursuits breathes always a pure air, and enjoys continually the grand spectacle of nature. The azure sky is his canopy, and the earth embroidered with flowers his carpet. Far removed from the murky atmosphere of towns, a thousand beautiful objects present themselves to his view, and he need never want a pure spring of delight, or real banquet of pleasure. Soon as the first rays of morning beam light on the earth he rises with the lark, and hastes away to his fields, brushing, as he passes, the glistening dew-drops, and inhaling the fresh unbreathed air, sweeter than the rose's perfume.

The joyful songs of the birds gladden the skies, and they express their loves in a thousand sportful sallies. Their sweet carols mark the pleasure they feel in the new day, and the full chorus swells with the praises of the God of nature, whose blessings they again receive in the returning influence of the sun, in their food, and in the sweet attractions of love and gaiety. And surely, no heart can remain unmoved amid this scene of joy and festivity; nor can the mind contemplate a more august spectacle than the perfection of God in the grandeur of his designs and the beauty of his works.

What contributes to render agriculture and gardening more particularly pleasing is the constant variety and succession of objects always presented to us, which relieve the wearisomeness of continued uniformity and undeviating sameness. We continually observe a vast variety of plants, fruits, herbs, and trees, grow up under our auspices, and assuming every diversity of appearance. Nature leads her followers through a thousand flowery paths, ever

self, and makes his private advantages and personal grati fication the centre of his desires, and the confined circle of his actions.

The vivifying rays of the sun will soon cause the buds of the flowers to expand, and, quitting their confinement, open their ripening beauties to the face of day. They will appear with a beautiful bloom, and exhale the most fragrant perfumes. So will the heart of the miser be opened when the rays of divine grace shall beam light upon his soul. His unfeeling nature and contracted mind will yield to the penetrating influence of truth, and his heart become susceptible of social affections, and alive to the feelings of humanity. He will then no longer be the slave of selfishness, nor the prey of sordid cares; his love will become uni versal; he will feel the affection of a brother for the deserv ing; and his generous soul will know no bounds in its expansion, nor suffer any restraint in cheering the comfortless, and ministering unto the afflicted.

When I view the yet tender buds of flowers, I think of you, ye amiable youth! The beauty and energy of your souls are not yet displayed; your faculties are not yet expanded; and the hopes of your fond parents not yet confirmed. When, walking forth into the fields and gardens, you behold the budding flowers, consider that you are in a similar state; as you look for their expansion, so your pa rents fondly watch the gradual unfolding of your faculties. They do every thing for you, and neglect nothing that can promote your instruction and advance your improvement; they watch over your education with the tenderest care, that at first by blossoms, and then by choice fruit, you may be come useful to society, and be the joy of your parents, and their consolation and support in the evening of their days. Do every thing in your power to gratify the dearest hopes, and profit well by their instructions; to the end that you may become wise, amiable. and virtuous. And beware of following all the suggestions of youthful faney, or giving way to the ebullitions of desire and he wild fury of pas sion, which will blast your innocence, destroy the sweet sensibility of your heart, and render your mind base, gloomy, and wretched. In the morning of life I flourish like the opening bud. My heart beats with joy, and throbs with fond delight; I riot in the luxury of hope, and antici

pate with ecstacy the pleasures of futurity. But if I yield to the insinuating poison of young desire, and slide into the false sweets of pleasure, my heart would early pulsate only to the tears of bitterness, or its vital stream be consumed by the ardency of an impure flame.'

MAY XI.

Indefatigable Labours of the Bee.

THE season of spring affords us an excellent opportunity to observe the labours and industry of the bees; and the sight of a hive is certainly most beautiful. A wonderful degree of interest is excited in the contemplation of a laboratory where thousands of workmen are differently employed. Our astonishment increases as we behold the regularity of their labours, and the abundance with which these magazines are furnished for the support of their numerous inhabitants during the winter. And still more admirable is the indefatigable assiduity and unceasing labours of this little republic. Bees give an example of diligence and activity which is not only uncommon, but has perhaps never been equalled.

As soon as the last traces of winter have disappeared, they begin to come forth; sometimes so early that there is reason to fear the cold is yet sufficiently strong to injure their delicate limbs. Even before the juices of flowers which begin to open are sufficiently acted upon by the heat of the sun to furnish a large supply of honey, the bees collect a little for their subsistence. But as the spring advances, and in the summer, their cares and activity are redoubled: in these seasons they are never idle, they work incessantly, and neglect not the smallest profits that will increase their stores. They are so indefatigable in the construction of their cells, that we are informed a comb with double cells and sufficiently large to contain three thousand bees, is finished in twenty-four hours.

The work is jointly undertaken by all the members of the republic; whilst some collect the wax, and prepare and