produce a carnivorous worm, for whom the rightsul tenant of the mansion serves as food. When some of these galls are opened, two worms of different sizes will frequently be found, the least sucking the biggest, while the latter sucks the gall-nut. When the ichneumon, for the small worm generally turns into that species of fly, comes out, it is often found to be much bigger than the creature it lived on, and here a difficulty presents itself which requires to be explained. How does it happen that the ichneumon worm should be so much bigger than the gall-insect, which is the only substance on which it feeds? Where does it obtain the additional food required to produce this additional bulk? Not from the gall-nut, for the ichneumon worm does not feed on a vegetable; and as there is no living thing, save the larva of the gall-fly, enclosed with it in the cell, it must in some way or other obtain it from that. The truth is, that Nature has taught the young of the ichneumon not to kill the larva of the gall-fly outright; it wounds only certain parts which are not vital, and from these it extracts its nourishment. The gall-worm, therefore, goes on sucking the vegetable juice, and elaborating it into animal matter, and as fast as that process is completed, the ichneumon worm abstracts and appropriates it, and so well-timed are the operations of nature, that the moment the ichneumon worm has reached its perfect state, and requires no farther supply of food, the gall-insect, which previously furnished it with this supply, becomes exhausted, and perishes.

FINGAL'S CAVE.

The following sketch is extracted from a "Journey to the Hebrides," a cluster of small islands on the west coast of Scotland. The author, speaking of this stu pendous work of nature, observes::—“The grandeur and majestic simplicity of this vast hall,* the obscuri

Length of the Cave from the rock without
Breadth at the mouth

Breadth at the farther end

Height of the arch at the mouth

Height at the farther end

ty which reigns there, and which increases still more the solemnity of the basaltic pillars, the rolling waves striking against the walls, and which in breaking against the bottom of the cavern produce a noise at times similar to the rolling of distant thunder, the echoes resounding from the vault repeating and prolonging all the sounds with a kind of harmony;-all these features united produce in the mind a sensation which invited us to meditation and to religious awe.

"Absorbed by the imposing view which we enjoyed, we could hardly cease contemplating the black walls of the cavern, the vast ocean, the mosaic pavement, and the ocean, which is seen prolonging at a distance across the gothic arch which forms the entrance of the vault.

"The perfect regularity of each basaltic pillar of which these rocks are composed, may, it is true, recall in the first instance the idea of achitecture; but this simile must not be carried too far, as it cannot be supported by profound examination.

"In addition to the pleasure I experienced from the beauty of the cave, were impressions which added still more to its charms; among these are the sentiments excited by its situation in the midst of a tempestuous sea, and sheltered from the destroying hand of man in a small isle, for a long period unknown, and continually beaten by floods and tempests; the idea of the possibility that subterraneous fires might formerly have contributed to its formation; the distant view of the isle of Iona: but, above all, the idea recalled to the mind by the name of Fingal! Fingal, Ossian, and the bards assembled perhaps in former times under these vaults; the music of their harps accompanied the sound of their voices, and mixing with the hoarse winds and waves, it has perhaps more than once re-echoed through these cavities. Here they sung their wars and their victories; here they commemorated the deeds of those heroes whose shades their imagination depicted to them by the pale light of the moon at the entrance of the solitary cavern!'

Oh long shalt thou mourn, in thy echo's deep groan,
Thy hall now all desolate, silent, and lone;

The honors thou boasted, now sunk to decay,
And the hero thou sheltered in time's early day

Thy walls then re-echoed the deeds he had done,
And the laurels thy hero in battle had won.
But now thou'rt deserted, thy pillars are bare,
Which then were festooned with the trophies of war.
No longer thy Fingal shall seek thy retreat;
No longer his deeds, shall thy echoes repeat.
But dreary and lone, save the traveller's lay,

No sound shall be heard, but the dash of the spray.

CIRCLE OF THE SCIENCES WITH SUITABLE RE

FLECTIONS.

A MOONLIGHT SCENE.

"The beauty of heaven, the glory of the stars."

SON OF SIRACH.

There are certain great and manificent objects in the creation, the contemplation of which has a tendency to produce a kind of internal elevation and expansion; to raise the mind above its ordinary state; and to excite a degree of wonder and astonishment, which it cannot often express. The emotion is certainly delightful; but it is entirely of the serious kind; and it is attended most commonly, by a degree of solemnity and awe, very different from the sprightliest sensations inspired by scenes that glow, as it were, with excessive radiance and overpowering beauty.

The scenes which are most calculated to inspire "sublimities of thought," are not so much the smiling landscape, the variegated fields, and the dazzling skies, as the venerable woods, the high impending cliff, or the headlong torrent. Hence, too, nocturnal views are commonly the most sublime. The firmament filled with stars, that are scattered through infinite space, with such magnificent profusion, impresses the imagination with ideas far more grand and awful, than when we view it enlightened by all the splendor of the sun, Of this sentiment is our favorite poet of the night.

"And see, Day's amiable sister sends
Her invitation, in the softest rays

Of mitigating lustre; courts thy sight

Which suffers from her tyrant brother's blaze.
Night grants thee the full freedom of the skies,
Nor rudely reprimands thy lifted eye-
Night opes the noblest scenes and sheds an awe

Which gives those venerable scenes full weight,
And deep reception in the intendered heart.

The objects moreover, which the eye contemplates by day, do not affect the pensive mind with a pleasure so serene as the milder glories of a moonlight evening. We then behold a new picture of things, which is more delicately shaded, and disposed into softer lights, than that which the radiant ruler of the day had before displayed. Each tumultuous care and important agitation had vanished with "garish day." The discordant pas. sions are soothed into serenity and peace, by the stillness of all around. In this happy moment we imbibe, as it were, the universal repose of Nature; for there is not an object but seems to be at rest; and the musing wanderer can scarce forbear to exclaim with Lorenzo;

How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.

Sit, Jessica; look how the floor of heaven

Is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold;

There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion, like an angel, sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim,

Such harmony is in immortal souls.

The greatest poets in every age, have vied with each other in the description of a moonlight evening. But, among the treasures of ancient and modern poetry, I know not one, superior for pleasing imagery, and the variety of numbers, than that of Milton :

"Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were sunk, all but the wakeful nightingale:
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

I can recollect only one description that is worthy tò