getable, or mineral kingdom, has been formed by certain rules, and organized by certain laws; whilst every thing bears thy image, and is strongly impressed with thy power.

AUGUST II.

VEGETATION OF THE STALK OF WHEAT.

The wheat-plant is composed of the principal stem, of the stalks growing from its sides, and of the branches which proceed from these. The stalk begins to form as soon as four green leaves appear. If the little plant is then taken, and the lower leaf carefully separated, a small white point may be seen, which in time becomes a stalk, and the root appears under the first leaf. The white point springs from a knot, opens out into green leaves, and pushes from the side a new point. However, these different points, and the stalks which grow from them, are not all designed to bear fruit; many of them decay and perish. When the principal stem has acquired some growth, a considerable revolution takes place in the plant, and all the sap is then employed in the formation of flowers and fruit.

But before that, and when the plant begins to vegetate, four or six leaves are seen to form and spring from as many knots. These prepare the nutritive juice for the ear, which is seen very diminutive in spring upon opening the stalk through the middle. When the plant begins to bud, the two upper leaves of the stalk join together, embrace the ear of corn, and protect it till it has acquired some degree of consistence. Before that, all the knots, particularly the two last, though soft, are closely connected, leaving very little space between them. But, as soon as the ear has pierced its coverings, these parts lengthen, and the leaves give them all the juices they contain. The knots gradually become harder, and the lower leaves dry up; the juices which nourished them are then only employed in supporting

the stem.

It is a little

After all these preparations, the blossom appears. white tube, very delicate, and grows from the seed leaf. Several more small stalks surround this bag. They are at first yellowish, then brown, and just before they fade and fall off become black. The principal use of these stalks is to nourish a little cluster in the bag of grains. When the corn has ceased to blossom, we see grains which contain the germ, and which arrive at perfection long before the farinaceous matter appears. This matter gradually increases, whilst the sap collects round an extremely fine and delicate part, resembling down. This substance, which exists after the blossoms, serves to support the opening of the great tube passing through the corn. The fruit begins to ripen as soon as it has attained its full size; at that time the stalk and the ear become white, and the green colour of the grain changes into yellow or light brown. The grains, however, are

still very soft, and their farina contains much moisture; but when the corn has arrived at maturity, they become hard and dry.

We cannot sufficiently admire the wisdom manifested in the structure and vegetation of corn; those who are accustomed to reflect will discover it in the least stalk. Even the leaves which surround it before it has attained its full growth, have their use: and they seem to be placed round the stalk for the same reason that an architect raises a scaffolding round a building he is about to construct, and when it is finished removes the scaffolding. For when the corn has acquired its full size and strength, the leaves which defended it dry and perish. It is some months before the ear ventures to appear and expose itself to the inclemency of the weather; but as soon as all the preparations for the flowers and fruit are ready, it appears in a few days. The stalk and the ears of corn are both constructed with equal intelligence. Merciful and beneficent Father! may all those who now walk through the fields of wheat, and joyfully behold the waving corn, experience all the sentiments of love and gratitude which thy liberal bounty ought to excite in their hearts; and may they unceasingly endeavour to imitate, and by their actions deserve, such goodness?

AUGUST III.

DOG-DAYS.

The sun has not only a diurnal motion, which carries him from east to west, and which occasions the revolution of day and night; he seems also to have another sensible motion from the west to the east: in consequence of which, at the expiration of three hundred and sixtyfive days, he is near the same stars from which he was separated for six months, and again approached during the other six months of the year.

Hence ancient astronomers have divided the seasons by the stars which the sun meets in his annual course. This course they divided into twelve constellations; these are the twelve signs of the zodiac, which they called the twelve houses of the sun, because he appears to remain a month in each of them.

The summer season begins when the sun enters into the sign Cancer, which happens on the twenty-first or twenty-second of June. It is then that he attains his highest degree of elevation above the horizon, and that his rays fall most directly upon us; and at this juncture the summer heat begins, which becomes more intense in the ensuing month, as our earth becomes more heated by the burning rays of the sun. Hence it happens, that the month of July and a part of August are generally the hottest portion of the year; and experience has proved, that it is from the twentieth of July to the twentieth of August that the greatest degree of heat prevails. Of all the stars with which the sun comes in conjunction, the dog-star is the

most brilliant; lost in the sun's rays, it disappears from us for a month, (as is the case with all the stars that the sun meets in his course,) and the month in which it is not seen is the time called the dog-days. Those observations would be of little importance, if they did not tend to combat a prejudice deeply rooted in the minds of many people. An ancient tradition attributes the heat experienced at this time to the influence of the dog-star upon the earth. But this opinion is absurd; because the occultation of the dog-star in the sun's rays does not always take place at the time we call the dog-days. These days, properly speaking, do not begin till the end of August, and terminate about the twentieth of September. And as the dog-star, or Sirius, always advances farther, in time it will reach the months of October and November, and at last to January; so that the most intense cold of the year will prevail in the dog-days.

When we consider this we shall perceive that it is impossible that this star shall occasion the great heats which we experience. When therefore in the supposed dog-days every thing is languishing or consumed, the waters dried up, and the springs fail, matters subject to fermentation become sour, animals are attacked with madness, and men with various maladies; it is not because a star is concealed behind the sun, but from the excessive heat of the weather, occasioned by another cause.

It is time then to renounce a prejudice so childish and absurd. To believe that certain figures, which the imagination forms in the sky, can have any influece upon our earth, or upon the health or the reason of man, bespeaks a great want of judgment. It is not the stars, but ourselves, that we ought to accuse of all the evils which we suffer. Can we believe that an all-pure and good Being, who governs the universe, has created any thing in the heavens or in the earth for the torment and misery of his creatures? This would be believing in an inevitable fatality; which we cannot admit of, if we acknowledge a Creator whose essence is wisdom and goodness. Let us then, instead of being guilty of this error, glorify our God, and assure to ourselves tranquillity and peace of mind, in the belief that we are under the peculiar care of a superintending Providence, without whose permission not even a hair of our heads can perish.

AUGUST IV.

SLEEP.

according to their But whether sleep manner; and the

People fall asleep with more or less rapidity, natural constitution and present state of health. arrives soon or late, it always comes in the same preceding circumstances are the same in all men. The first thing that happens when we begin to sleep, is the stupor of our senses; which, no longer receiving external impressions, fall

into a state of inactivity. Hence it follows that the attention diminishes, and at length ceases; the memory becomes confused; the passions are calmed; and the connexion between our thoughts and reasoning faculty is interrupted. As long as we feel the influence of sleep, it is only the first degree of it; we may then be said to be in a dozing state. When we are really asleep, we have no longer that consciousness and reflection which depends upon the exercise of memory; our eyelids wink, open, and shut, of themselves; the head reclines in an easy position; and when our sleep is quite profound, all voluntary functions are suspended; but the vital functions, and all those which do not depend upon the will, are still performed with vigour. A sweet sleep refreshes and repairs our exhausted nature; and we rise from our slumbers with increased energy, capable of again renewing the fatigue of the day.

All these circumstances are well calculated to make us acknowledge the goodness of God, so mercifully extended to us in his tender care to procure us the blessing of sleep. We ought to be still more thankful, when we consider the effects of sleep being ushered in by a complete suspension of activity in the senses; and that it steals upon us unawares, and in a way not to be resisted. The first of these circumstances renders it more sound and refreshing; the other makes it an unavoidable necessity. And how wisely is it ordered, that by the spontaneous closing of the eyelid the eye is defended when we are not able to preserve it from the dangers to which it would have been subjected!

Let therefore the hour in which we dispose ourselves to enjoy the sweet influence of sleep be always preceded by thanksgivings to our Heavenly Father. Let us not only bless him because the days happily succeed each other, but also because he has so constituted us, that a state in which for a space we repose from the cares, the troubles, and the vexations of the world, is to us a state of refreshment, in which we require new force and gain accumulated vigour. Let reflections like these be the last which take place before sleep surprises and locks up our soul in silken fetters; and when morning dissolves the charm, let love and gratitude to our God be the first emotion of our heart.

AUGUST V.

DIVISIBILITY OF MATTER.

To be convinced of the infinite divisibility of bodies, we have only to walk into a garden, and inhale the sweet incense that rises from a thousand flowers. How inconceivably small must be the odoriferous particles of a carnation, which diffuse themselves through a whole garden, and every where meet our sense of smell! If this is not sufficient, let us consider some other objects of nature; as, for instance, one of those silk threads, the work of a poor worm. Suppose this

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thread is three hundred and sixty feet long, it weighs but a single grain. Again, consider into how many perceptible parts a length of three hundred and sixty feet can be divided. A single inch may be divided into six hundred parts, each as thick as a hair, and consequently perfectly visible. Hence a single grain of silk can be divided into at least two millions five hundred and ninety-two thousand parts, each of which may be seen without the help of a microscope. And as every one of these parts may be again divided into several more millions of parts, till the division is carried beyond the reach of thought, it is evident that this progression may be infinite. The last particles which are no longer divisible by human industry must still have extension, and be consequently susceptible of division, though we are no longer able to effect it.

Again, if we examine the animal kingdom, we shall discover still further proofs of the infinite divisibility of matter. Pepper has been put into a glass of water, and on looking through a microscope, a multitude of animalcules were seen in the water, a thousand million times less than a grain of sand. How inconceivably minute then must be the feet, muscles, vessels, nerves, and organs of sense, in these animals! And how small their eggs and their young ones, and the fluids which circulate in them! Here the imagination loses itself, our ideas become confused, and we are incapable of giving form to such very small particles.

What still more claims our attention is, that the more we magnify, by means of glasses, the productions of nature, the more perfect and beautiful do they appear; whilst with works of art it is generally quite contrary; for, when these are seen through a microscope, we find them rough, coarse, and imperfect, though executed by the most able artists, and with the utmost care.

Thus the Almighty has impressed even upon the smallest atom the stamp of his infinity. The most subtile body is as a world, in which millions of parts unite, and are arranged in the most perfect order. What astonishing wisdom is that which operates with as much order and perfection in the minutest as in the largest works! How infinite that power which has brought out of nothing such a multitude of different bodies! And how gracious is that goodness which so richly displays itself in the most minute productions, seeing that each of them has its perfection and use.

Considerations like these tend to make us feel the limits of our capacity; the smallest insect, the least grain of dust, may convince us that there are thousands of things of which we are ignorant, and cannot explain. Let him who boasts of his talents attempt to enumerate the parts of which the body of an animal, a million of times less than a grain of sand, is composed. Let him try to determine how minute one of those rays of light must be, when several millions of them can pass through an opening not larger than the eye of a needle. His ideas will soon be confused; and he will be obliged to acknowledge his ignorance, and confess the narrow limits of his capacity. How then can we be proud of our knowledge, and have the