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parts, occupied by water, where they will acquire a horizontal stratification, and, by certain mineral operations, be afterwards consolidated into stone; such a body, in the course of ages, must acquire a surface every where at right-angles to the direction of gravity, and consequently more or less approximating to a spheroid of equilibrium. The natural history of the earth gives considerable countenance to these suppositions, and seems to furnish us with a very rational explanation of the ellipticity or spheroidal form belonging to the earth, and to the planets which are known to revolve about an axis. The distribution of the solid materials in the interior of the earth will very much affect the nature of this solid; and the manner in which the figure is acquired must probably prevent the approximation from ever being entirely complete. The distribution, however, of the materials, at any

considerable distance below the surface, must remain to us for ever unknown; we have no means of examination, except by the measure ment of degrees, the experiments on pendulums, or from observations made on the deviation of the plumbline from the perpendicular similar to what has just been described as

having taken place at Schehallien. These latter observations ought to be repeated on different mountains, the interior construction of which can be ascertained; but the most eligible method which has ever yet been suggested, is that of making observations on the large Pyramid of Ghizeh, in Egypt, the materials of which, as well as its exact figure, being known, would render observations made on it particularly desirable; especially as they would afford certain data, and reduce the calculations, which are now extremely complicated, to almost nothing. This method was recommended by Dr C. Hutton, in his last paper published in the Philosophical Transactions of London; when that veteran declared, that if ill health and old age did not prevent him, he would make a journey to Egypt, entirely for that purpose. "On the whole, the facts known from observation agree in general with the theory; but there are, in the expression of that theory, so many quantities which are yet indeterminate, that a perfect coincidence of the two cannot be strictly affirmed; in fact, the business is not yet completed; something further still remains for future philosophers to accomplish."

Pericles.-A Sonnet.

He is the pride of Athens! he has fought
First in her battles; he has rear'd her fanes,
Restor'd her laws, struck off her galling chains,
And gain'd the glory his ambition sought.

Yet say not he is happy; see him stand
By yonder lifeless form, and on his cheek
Mark the big tear in silent language speak,
As the gay flowers drop sadly from his hand.
They fall upon his last-his youngest child,-
Him on whose sunny face he lov'd to gaze,
Watching how merrily his youthful days
Were dancing on whilst all around him smil'd ;-
But he has died;-look on the warrior's brow,

In the fond father's heart there is no Athens now!

H. G. B.

As our military and naval officers are many of them quite competent to the undertaking, and as Great Britain always affords facilities for such experiments, may we not entertain hopes, that, before long, some gentleman, finding himself near the spot, will make the necessary observations, and immortalize his name by determining the deviation of the plumb-line, caused by the Great Pyramid; for, together with this, its dimensions and figure, and the specific gravity of the materials of which it is constructed, would afford sufficient data for the solution of the intricate but very useful problem.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

SKETCHES FROM NATURE.

April 1818. THOUGH I had no desire to stay long at H-, yet I did not expect to have left it quite so soon: left it, however, I have, and after another little journey, I have arrived here in safety, and supplied with materials sufficient to furnish another letter of travelling adventures.

But to give you something like a regular narrative, I must begin where my last letter left off. With a fixed determination to perform my duty in a conscientious manner, and with my father's strong warnings against "eye service" deeply impressed upon my mind, I joined my companions in labour; and, along with them, be gan the toils and duties of that station of life in which Providence has placed me. At every interval of la bour, every breathing-time, I stole a few cautious scrutinizing glances at my companions, anxious to observe them, but fearful of being myself observed. They were all like strangers to me, and most of them strangers to one another also; the greater part about middle age, and none so young as myself. They appeared to be well acquainted with that world which was so new to me; and nothing surprised me more, than the easy and unembarrassed manner with which they talked to each other, though, till that very day, they had perhaps never met. Some of them accosted me in different ways, as their several inclinations led them; one speaking upon any indifferent subject; another upon the proper cultivation of this or the other species of plant; a third, gaily, but I thought cruelly and officiously, bantering me, asking how long I had left my mother, and if I was not well" speaned" yet? I shrunk from their familia rity, and plied my work with a sick heart. One young man, apparently about two or three years older than myself, perceived my distress, spoke to me kindly, and endeavoured, by talking upon agreeable and diverting subjects, to turn my mind from its melancholy musings, and he partly succeeded. In a short time I be

came considerably attached to him; and the more so, because I found in him a considerable similarity of taste. At our leisure hours we read and talked about our favourite authors; and though he had much less need of me than I had of him, he was evidently pleased with my company. In this manner time passed slowly on; the day employed in my common occupation, working along with the rest, and thinking on other scenes, and dearer friends; the evening spent in reading, talking with my only companion, or hearing him play a few tunes upon his fiddle, which he often did when he perceived me more than commonly inclined to sadness; and well he knew how to wake a strain concordant with my feelings, and lead my mind away from itself, by the associations stirred by plaintive measures, till the grief which I continued to feel became in itself a pleasure. Meanwhile the weather, which had been unsteady, became worse and worse; the wind blew from the northeast with the most bitter keenness, bearing along, at short intervals, thick drifting showers of snow and sleet. Often, during the showers, we cowered under the feeble shelter of the thin leafless beech-hedges, looking wistfully out for the re-appearance of blue-sky, and shivering till we were unable to speak; and always at the "fair blinks" working as fast as possible, to acquire some warmth. Many a thought of the comfortable fire-side of home did these chill blasts awake in my mind, while I was trembling at the very heart; but these I kept to myself, as I imagin ed it would be altogether disgraceful for me to appear overcome with cold, like a child. After some days of such weather, the wind shifted into the south-west, the skies cleared, the sun shone out bright and warm, and the little birds began to sing their joyful notes. I felt the renovating influence, and my heart at one time danced with delight, at another melted away in tender recollections of that home whence the wind was now blowing, whose whisperings seemed to me like the voice of a friend.

While my mind was warmed with these feelings, another rhyming fit came upon me, and here follows the result.

Recollections of Youthful Scenes.

The gale saftly blaws frae the hills o' my hame,

An' oh! how delightfu' its breathings to feel!

While gently its wing fans my cheek an' my breast,

What fond recollections o'er memory steal!

My father's wee cot rises fresh on my view,

An' the lang ash-tree soughing abune the lum-head;

My ain green sod-seat by the bourtrees o'erhung,

Wi' their sweet milky blossoms or berries sae red.

The clear caller spring, an' its pure rippling stream,

Wi' a' its wee islands o' cresses sae

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sae green;

Where I've watch'd the wee nestlings a' gaping for food,

To frighten or herrie them laith wad I been:-

The green spongy mosses, where light somely waves

The tufted grass, white as the swan's

downy breast; Or the Crane-burn, that twisting, an' boiling, an' wild, Foaming bursts o'er the Linn frae the hill's woody crest :— The thick branchy trees where I've nestled mysel',

An' gaz'd at the scud o' the fast-driv. ing rain,

There swinging an' rock'd in the wild raving blast,

But now thae young days o' delight are a' gane:

I'll maybe thae sweet scenes o' youth see nae mair,

But aye till the cauld han' o' death shuts my e'e,

Where'er I may wander, where'er I may dwell,

Dear, dear shall their memory be ever

to me.

An' oh! the lang gaze o' my fond mother's e'e,

Sae tenderly bent on her wandering boy;

My father's voice struggling wi' kindness an' grief,

An' his bosom's deep heave wi' the sad parting sigh ;

An' each glad joyous face, that made hame doubly dear,

Sae dowie an' tearfu' to see me depart; Oh! that gaze, an' that sigh, an' each dear waefu' face,

Till it ceases to beat shall aye dwell in my heart.

Now, you must not be severe in your criticisms upon my poor verses; I cannot help it that they are not better, for they are the best I could produce, and they are true representations, both of the natural scenery of my dear home, and the warm feelings of my heart.

wind, and the agreeable alteration A few days after the change of the of weather which followed, I got the offer of a situation some miles be

yond C; and as it was considerably better in every respect than that at H, it appeared to me the most prudent course to accept it. Accordtrunk, keeping out a small bundle ingly I again packed up my little for immediate use, till it should come to me; seized my "gude aik stick" and my umbrella, and prepared for my departure. Though I had been little more than a fortnight at Hyet I felt something like grief or regret at leaving it; particularly when my only companion shook hands with me affectionately, and kindly wished me all manner of success and happiness. I assure you I felt considerably at parting with him, and setting out on a new journey, alone as before, to mingle again amongst utter strangers,-Englishmen, too, a nation for which, from my boyhood, I have felt no small dislike: and now to be really going into England, and with the prospect of making my residence there for some time! it

seemed to me as if I were labouring under some strange delusion, which I had not the power to dispel. Often, in my early youth, while I read the history of Wallace wight," have I cried with grief and bitter hatred at the "Southrons," and wished for power to avenge his murder upon them,-often longed for a day when the savage butcheries and wanton devastations committed after the battle of Culloden would be requited:-and now to feel myself actually going to England, to live a mongst Englishmen! I thought upon it again and again, and wondered how I would behave when there.

There was besides another circumstance which tended to wake feelings of a peculiar kind in this journey: for above twenty miles I was exactly retracing the road which I had lately come; so that I knew myself approaching nearer home every step, yet knew that my journey would not lead me there. I cannot describe to you how strange it seemed, to be travelling the very road which led homewards, yet with the unavoidable conviction in my mind that I would not reach it: I felt as one feels in a dream, when something is just within his reach could he make the slightest exertion; but he sees the object of his ardent wishes glide gradually away from his grasp, with the consciousness that a slight effort on his part would be sufficient to obtain it, yet feels an utter inability of making even that slight effort. Thus I drew gradually nearer and nearer home, yet knew, at the same time, that I was drawing nearer the place where I must leave the road which leads home, unless, indeed, I should continue it, as I could do, longed to do, yet would not do.

A little before I reached that dreaded place of separation, I saw a young man sitting by the roadside a little before me, as if resting himself. He rose as I came forward, and accosted me very civilly with a "Here's a fine day." I answered, that it was indeed a very good day for travelling; he immediately asked me if I could di

each other. To this he very willingly agreed, so on we went together. He was in person about my own height, but considerably stouter, and apparently three or four years older, and, from the paleness of his countenance, seemed to have been less exposed to the action of the sun and the weather. When we reached the village, and, after making inquiries, left the Droad, and took that leading to L, I proposed having something to eat and drink, as I had not taken any refreshment since morning, and had since then walked upwards of twenty miles; he told me plainly that he could not afford it, as he had but one sixpence left, and that he did not dare to break upon it till he knew where he would get a bed, and what it would cost him. I offered the poor fellow a share of a bottle of porter, and some bread and cheese, which he accepted very thankfully. After eating and drinking a little, he became quite lively and happy, and sung me two or three songs while we rested ourselves. One of them was of a Jacobite character, and apparently not very old; it was so concordant with my feelings in some respects, that I was desirous to possess it, got him to repeat it over slowly, while I wrote it down with my pencil, and here I send you a copy of it.

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Then Scotia's targe sank frae her arm, Her gude braid sword was broke in twa,

rect him the way to L? I told The tapmost flower o' her thistle droop'd,

him that I was acquainted with it, but was intending to go there myself that night, and that if he was going there, we might accompany

An' the last o' the Stuarts was driven

awa.

Now she maun sit like a widow'd dame,

In lonely wastes wi' slaughter red,—

Nac crown to g
Her freedom

The howlet scre
An' flaps his
her king
In courts that rar
The long gras
springs.

Sair, sair, abune

Wi' aheavy he

Where lie her bes Wha bled for 1 vain.

An' aye when she Out owre the

sea,

She takes a lang a But the sails o glad her e'

But the day may c her e'e

Shall kindle agai When "Wallace w

on,

An' "the Bruce' An' her spreading t Its armed head n An' the race o' h

crown,

by a

An' yet in their f When we foun freshed, we set o again, my lively improved in spiri from indulging i Some miles below ed the E bridge, or rather upon the other, exceeding depth o between which th and boils, and v and thunders th beauty and gran nion beguiled th song and many a length we came crossed by a st large as the st spring-well, bu the boundary b England. On our mirth inst looked at the England-bac round on its green fields, a brushwood, but spoke no foot on each pulled a sm

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