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in suffering, yet. I hope I shall not be deemed too enthusiastic, if I say, that each is to be so far received as a blessing, that the heaviest affliction being once acknowledged to be imposed as a trial of virtue, we must, considering it as an opportunity of improvement to our minds, as far as is pos-ible, be thankful for it, even under the pressure of grief, of disappointment, or in the tortures of bodily pain. If in these sensations we are enabled to say not only with our lips, but from our hearts, God's will be done! thus may, and will, our sorrow be truly turned into joy!-But let me conclude my melancholy narrative.

preserved her. Become acquainted by some accident, perhaps by the conduct of the women, with the nature of the house, and her situation, she had escaped unperceived, though at the risk of her life.

"The window by which Lucilia had escaped opened upon an alley; she had no sooner gained the grouud, than with that strength which terror sometimes gives, she betook herself to flight. She was soon, however, conscious of being pursued; the fear of being overtaken added new speed; all, however, was in vain; her pursuers gained ground, and at length coming up. proved to be the watch of the night. Believing her by her dress to be one of those disorderly women too frequent in a populous city, they lodged her, without further

"The illness of Lucilia continued a long time, and during the whole of it she was bept ignorant of her situation. Upon her recovery, and the dismissal of her phy-question, in the watch-house; and on the

sician, to the horror, to the astonishment of Lucilia, their first, indeed their only persecutor, the Colonel, appeared. The Colonel, indeed, by chance or design, had passed the door of Lionel in the moment of his arrest; he had followed him to the

following morning carried her before the
sitting magistrate.
Lucilia was com-
manded to explain herself. The melan-
choly in the countenance of the venerable
magistrate encouraged her; she related
her story as distinctly as her grief would

prison, and seized the opportunity of get-admit. If the spectators, of which there

ting into his possession the person of Lucilia. The mob pleased with his apparent humanity, had borne her lifeless frame to his carriage, the Colonel whispered in the ear of his coachman, and the fellow, worthy of his master, drove to one of the most abandoned, and therefore perhaps the most splendid houses of bad reception in the city of Dublin. In this house Lucilia bad hitherto been, and was only preserved from outrage by her long illness; her recovery to health and beauty recalled her

persecutor,

were many, were astonished at the narrative, still more so were they at the evident emotion of the magistrate during the narration.

"She had no sooner concluded, than rising from his seat, 'Lucilia,' said he, 'your misfortunes have ceased; behold in me the uncle of the unfortunate Lionci. My anger at his union soon passed away, and my heart yearned to embrace the ne. phew I loved, and of whose merit I was justly proud, as chiefly the work of my own hands. The artifice of an unworthy cousin caused me to believe that I was only a subject of ridicule to Lionel and your. self. The death of that relation has restored to me the letter of Lionel, written in the midst of his bitter distress, and which had hitherto never met my eyes. I hastened to repair my error; alas, it is in some respect too late, yet let me repair in the protection of you the injustice I have done to your husband.'

"It is needless to say that Lucilia rejected his advances with merited disgust, though she did not as yet know the extent of his villainy, nor the character of the house. Lucilia demanded with renewed agony her beloved husband; though the Colonel knew and rejoiced at the event of his death, he hesitated not to promise his release upon conditions in the power of Lucilia. Lucilia again rejected him with increased horror; irritated at the repulse, "I here pass over minute circumstances. and resolved on success, the monster in-Suffice it to say, that being wholly without

troduced himself by a private door into ber apartment in the night. Lucilia, however, was not to be found; heaven had

other heirs, the uncle performed his promise. I pass over the long grief of Lucilia, when informed of the death of her hus

dence she is happy, and deserves to be so.

band. The narrative I have given you is misery as in seeming happiness, in the collected from scattered notes which Lu-storm of adversity as in the zephyrs of cilia gave me, and the greater part of hope, is still present and consulting the which were written at the time of the oc-good of his creatures. With this conf6currence, Lucilia having formed an early habit of keeping a journal of her life; a most useful practice, as nothing can be a more effectual means of withholding us from further errors, than by daily, hourly, seeing the effects of our former ones.

"With regard to her son, your former favourite, Edward, though you now disown him, I need say nothing. You are already informed in what manner he has been adopted for his merit by Captain Oldcastle. He has chosen the sea for his profession, and has already obtained much reputation. As neither his mother nor his uncle could change this inclination in him, they had the prudence, though much against their will, to submit. But they had the wisdom to avoid one error, which is too frequently fatal; they did not think that a naval destination, and the necessity of commencing it early, superseded all necessity of other instruction. Instead of sending him on board his ship at the age of twelve, to remain there twelve years, and to receive in that time no other education than what he could receive from the writing-master of the ship, the young Lionel was made to pass six years at a public school, where a good foundation was laid of classic elements. The consequence has been, that though a sailor, he is now an accomplished gentleman, and can appear with as much ease in society as he can command on the deck.

" I have nothing further to add to my narrative, than that within a few years afterwards the good uncle died, and left the whole of his estates to the young Lionel and his mother. These estates produce an ample, if not a wealthy income. Lucilia immediately left Ireland, and has since resided in England. Wherever she is known, she is esteemed and beloved, as her merit and piety deserve; she is occasionally melancholy, when the death of her husband, and the eternal curse of her inhuman father, arise to her memory. But for the most part her sense of duty restrains all impatience against the decrees of Providence, who, in apparent

"The immense estates of her father are possessed by a very distant relative, to whom the inhuman parent left them in his will; his title is extinct through defect of male heirs. But it is thought that if an empty honour could be worth the trouble of acquisition, the son of Lionel would only have to prove his birth to obtain the titles of his grandfather. But as the will has cut him off from the estate, the other perhaps is not worth his care: Heaven, however, may have blessings in store for him to repay the evil with which it has inflicted his parents. The exemplary goodness and resignation of Lucilia will not pass without an ample reward, and perhaps, reparation of all injustice. I shall here conclude my narrative in my own way, my dear, with a sacred truth to which my own experience will bear testimony; I have been young, and now I am old, yet never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread."

The coach had by this time reached home, and Lady Priscilla and Agnes descended, equally satisfied with their ride and visit.

Agnes enjoyed for the remainder of the day the beloved society of her amiable protectress, and almost accused herself of selfishness for the wish that she could not avoid forming, that a fashionable party, expected for some time, would not arrive. Nothing indeed could be more immediately contrary to the disposition equally of Agnes and Lady Priscilla, than these gay visitors. "I confess, my dear," said she to Agnes, "that I prefer solitude to the society of what is called the gay world. I think silence as good as insignificance, and far preferable to scandal, or that fashionable wit and banter, which is more admired, as it is more daring in its attacks upon all objects which are deemed sacred amongst the sober part of mankind. I love my sister, and most sincerely regret that her excellent understanding, and natural goodness of heart, has been corrupted

and contracted by the habits of the gay || lent young man. So unjust are they, that world." though he merits their gratitude and adDinner was scarcely removed, before a miration, as being the only one who can servant entered with a letter to Lady Pris-restore their family to its former estimacilla, a circumstance so unusual as to cause the surprise both of Agnes and berself. Agnes being desired to read it, obeyed, and read as follows:

TO LADY PRISCILLA HARROWBY.

"My dear Madam,-Though it has been some years since I have had the happiness of being personally known to my respected aunt, I am not such a stranger to her good ness and reported kindness, as to fear a cold reception. In my present vacation at the University, I have chanced to make acquaintance with a gentleman, who having occasion to visit Penzance, has persuaded me to accompany him. Will your Lady ship pardon me, if being in your immediate neighbourhood, I neglect not a moment to assure you of the respect and affection of, my dear Madem, your nephew, "G. BEACHCROFT."

- "Hasten, hasten, my dearest Agnes," exclaimed Lady Priscilla, with an eagerness of satisfaction" to assure him of the kindest welcome; the letter is from my eldest nephew, a young man, whose merit I know not to be equalled, except it is by your own. I can pardon his family any thing, except their stupidity, in being so ignorantly blind to the worth of this excel

tion, he is known in the family by no other name than the clown; yet to my knowledge is this clown the most acco.nplished gentleman in their family. But hasten, my dearest Agnes, and let our welcome be so much the more ardent, as depressed by the ill usage, the indifference at least of his own family, he requires more kindness from me. This unworthy treatment of his family have inspired into him a diffidence of his own merit, which you may see even in the style of his letters. But hasten, Agnes, and write as I shall dictate."

"The servant is gone, my Lady," said Jonathan," he told me he was not to wait for an answer."

"And do you know where his master is," said Lady Priscilla?

"No, my Lady," replied Jonathan.

"I am sorry for it," said Lady Priscilla, " for I shall regret every minute till I see my nephew. He knows not that his family are with me, and I hope will not know it before he comes, lest it should deter him. I hope, moreover, to employ this opportunity to convince his parents of their injustice."

[To be continued.]

SOLUTION OF THE ARITHMETICAL PROBLEM.
(Given in our last Number, Page 236.)

THE Owner of the five loaves should four, and each person eating an equal have seven of the pieces of money, and number, would be eight a-piece. The the other man the remaining single piece; stranger would of course obtain seven because, supposing each loaf to be divided parts from the first man, and only one into three pieces, there would be twenty- from the other.

A FULL EXPLANATION

OF

THE SCIENCE OF BOTANY;

BY

ROBERT JOHN THORNTON, M.D.

OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, LECTURER ON BOTANY AT GUY'S HOSPITAL, AUTHOR OF THE "TEMPLE OF FLORA," &c. &c.

Or all studies there is none which appealsexercise to the understanding. It is to the

more to the fancy and the understanding, than this delightful science. Our best Poets seem. to have been of this opinion.-Shakespear is never so much at ease as when he is culling simples in the fields and gardens; and the most delightful employment which Milton can give his Eve in her state of primæval innocence, is that of ranging through the bowers of Eden, and giving names and distinctions to the several herbs, trees, and flowers of Paradise. Even the genius of the Poet seems itself to rise with renovated wing as he flies through this store-house of nature. If he must want all feeling who can hear unmoved the sounds of music, whose soul and whose senses are dead to the concord of sweet sounds, still more Benseless must he be who can walk unmoved amidst the charms of nature; who can see with undelighted eye "the lilies of the field," and all the luxuriant bounty of nature in beauty and variety.

Botany may be truly defined the study and contemplation of the most beautiful part of nature. The natural philosophers study her in other modes; the one takes her minerals, the other her animals. Every part of nature certainly well merits, and well repays, the labour and the attention of the student. The botanist, however, with happier taste, leaving the harder science of general physiology to the philosopher by profession, selects for himself from the vegetable world. He follows nature as it were to her dressing-room, and becomes spectator of the art and felicity in which she invests herself, and of the beauty in which he sees her. Like Solomon he learns the name of every flower that grows, and no herb that sips the morning dew, no lowering tree that rises to the mid-day sun, is unknown to him.

Of studies equal in the innocence of their object, the preference seems due to that which, whilst it contributes to the amusement of the leisure hour, provides at the same time an No. I. Vol. I.-N. S.

praise of the study of botany, that it furnishes exertion to the talents of those who could not be persuaded to employ them in any other manner. It is an exercise which invigorates whilst it amuses the mind. It increases, confirms, and still more frequently forms a memory. By the habits which it induces, it often calls forth latent powers of the understanding, and those who begin with Howers, herbs, and trees, may pass on to greater objects. In a word, a person who has become a good botanist, may ultimately become a good reasoner, and if his taste should so lead him, a good natural philosopher.

Botany is a science which has so many charms that it must have been cultivated from time immemorial. We learn from Scripture, when man was first created, he was put into Paradise, and had enjoined him the cultivation of plants, an employment as noble as it must be agreeable. Every heart must indeed be filled with delight, at seeing the bounty and profusion of nature in the vegetable kingdom. Besides the gratification of the sight, how are the other senses regaled by the vegetable race. Independent of the smiling aspect of flowers, the sense of smelling is also excited by the most agreeable odours, whilst the murmuring of quivering leaves gently rouses the sense of hearing; and lastly, a thousand delicious fruits from the bended boughs invite us to partake of a rich and wholesome repast. The variety of hill and dale, the broad expanse of water, the luxuriant verdure beneath, the multitude of trees clothing the mountains to their very tops; animals, birds, and insects, which seem as it were formed to make the landscape alive; the clouds floating above, whose skirts are brightened by the all-enlivening sun, which gently drop from their bosoms the fructifying shower; the variety of seasons, with their successive productions, forming, as it were, a diversified drama,

C

a continually shifted scene, which never || cloys, and always delights, must have at the first struck man, even the more barbarous, or least instructed. How much more then

Only remove from your ideas the total ex istence of vegetables, as Cicero said, "deprive the world of friendship," or as Lavoisier said, "fancy the sun extinct," each to exalt

must be the satisfaction of virtuous and culti-the value of their subjects, then no longer

vated minds. What must be the enjoyment of that person who beholds these wonders of creative powers through the medium of science! How much more will he rejoice who sees not these things collectively, but can separate the component parts. A single object to the in-ills, all those numberless flowers which regale

would those trees which afford us shade, that verdure which delights our eyes, and feeds our flocks and herds, those plants which produce us linen, cordage, and paper, the very bread we eat, those medicines which assuage our

structed will arrest his attention for hours. It is here that the botanist will find an unknowD

plant, which he probably observes for the first time, a new acquaintance, who will ever after wear the same smiling countenance: there he will behold another, which be has for some time lost sight of, and will now be to him as welcome as a relative returned from a distant country; and at every walk he will meet with his old acquaintances, who annually come to pay him their visits. Every season, every climate, every country will present a new spectacle to his sight. Even places the most wild and uncultivated has its charms, for

there nature will be found to work fresh won

ders. There is no solitude to him, he is always surrounded with agreeable companions which interest him, as those who take the circuit round the world, and observe new inhabitants, new manners, and new customs; and in this pursuit he never feels his spirits flag; his faculties become improved, his health is thereby increased or renovated, he is away from the smoke and confusion of cities, he feels an inward contentment such as no other pursuit can give him; and in reading over the pages of the book of nature, if ever it be the lot for man to be happy, it is then.

But in order to possess this high prerogative, denied to the lower ranks of mankind, to see nature as she is, through the optics of science, it is necessary that the youthful botanist should understand well the terms, or definitions of our art.

Botanists will see order and contrivance where the uninformed spectator beholds but the confusion of parts, and splendour of coJour; botauists will discern a vitality in plants, which approximate them to our own natures; botanists will rise from class to order, from genera to species; will compare and establish the difference of resembling individuals; will separate varieties from this last; and if ever there was an atheist, that being could not be one conversant with our science, for the botanist cannot fail to acknowledge an order, a design, a contrivance, that mark both infinite power, wisdom, and goodness!

our sight and smell, all would be desolation; and as all animals are supported primarily on vegetables, animal life must quickly cease to exist; so much depends on plants.

To some persons the study of botany may appear an arduous and disagreeable task: but it should be remembered that nothing worthy acquisition is to be obtained without labour. The ancients, who used to clothe their sentiments in hieroglyphical representations, expressed this by the marriage of Vulcan with Venus, the god of Deformity to the goddess of Beauty, to point out that the hewing of stones, shaping them, bringing them together, had the appearance of a task, of roughness, and deformity; whereas, when these were associated, and the temple or palace was constructed, nothing appeared but symmetry and beauty; or to use our former comparison, as on a bright day the elevation of a telescope shews us the primary planets in all their splendour, and their attendant satellites, so will a knowledge of the terms of botany make us see the vegetable world with other optics than with those they appear in to the generality of spectators.

In order to acquire a true knowledge of botany, the terms of the science must be first learnt, and as an apology for our terms, what science is there devoid of terms? Geography, astronomy, chemistry, and music, have each thcir respective or peculiar expression, and habit as readily familiarizes us to them, as we acquire a new language, and the apparent difficulty is only at the onset. Unfortunately, as the terms apply to things, these should either be pointed out in nature, or their pictures presented us, or our notions will be confused, for what is addressed to the ear cannot equally express what is given by the painter; and the defect of botanical publications in general is, that a right definition with demonstration has seldom gone hand in hand; but it is the intention of the Proprietor of this Magazine*, to forward the purposes

* It has been proposed to Doctor Thornton, 1 and accepted by him, to give the world a New

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