By this beautiful arrangement, so worthy of the Divine wisdom, every part of the earth is enlightened, and enjoys its different seasons: but if it revolved perpendicularly, or upright, this could not be the case. By its position, the north pole is more fully presented to the sun in June, than at any other time in the year; so that in these northern regions it is summer. But, of course, the south pole is in an opposite direction, and it is winter in the parts of the earth which are south of the equator. In the month of December, the south pole is presented, in a similar manner to the sun, and then the inhabitants of the countries which lie round about it, in their turn enjoy summer, whilst it is winter in the northern parts of the earth. But, as I showed you just now on the globe, the people who live between the equator and the tropic of Cancer and that of Capricorn must have two summers every year.

I recollect now, Papa, that you did; and you said, that the sun was three millions of miles nearer to us at Christmas than at Midsummer but I can't think

how this can be; for surely, then it would be warm in December, and cold in June; which we all know it is not.

True, Edward; but you forgot how I accounted for a very different result. I told you, that though the sun is nearer to us in winter than in summer, yet in the former season he does not rise very high in the heavens; thus his beams shoot over us, and do not fall on the earth to warm it, as is the case in

summer.

Thank you, Papa; I understand it now. I see that from our situation on the globe, we have four seasons; spring, the season which we now enjoy, when the trees, plants, and flowers, bud and blossom, and in which heat is not very great, and the days and nights are nearly of equal length: summer, when the days are much longer than the night, and when the heat is so great that it ripens the fruits of the earth: autumn, when the heat abates, the fruits and seeds are gathered, and the days and nights are again as long as each other: and winter, which said was

you

as a sabbath to the earth, when it seemed to rest from its labours, the cold increases, and the nights become much longer than the days.

You have given a just account of the seasons, Edward. In addition to what has been said about the different zones, it may be remarked, that the productions of the earth and waters in each of them are suited to the peculiar wants and circumstances of their inhabitants. The warm countries, for instance, are remarkable for an abundance of cooling fruits, and those that are cold for warm furs, suitable to their situation. I could readily adduce many other in

stances.

How is it that you know everything, Papa?

This is far from being the case, Edward. I know, indeed, somewhat of the works of God in general, as I have been accustomed to observe them carefully, and to read about them through the whole of my life. The more we know, Edward, the more conscious we shall be of the imperfection of our knowledge. The works of God are so comprehensive and boundless, that I

much question whether the best-informed individual knows all that is to be known about the most inconsiderable of them. Do you recollect the account St. Pierre gives of his strawberry plant? I pointed it out to you a few weeks since.

He says, that in three weeks thirty-seven different species of insects had visited it; and that a full history of the strawberry plant must have included an account of all these insects. Plants, he remarks, are the habitations of insects, and no one could give a proper account of a city who did not notice its inhabitants.

I think he also remarks, that, reasoning from analogy, it is credible there are animals feeding on the leaves of plants, like the cattle in our meadows, and on

our mountains; which repose under the shade of a down, imperceptible to the naked eye; and which, from goblets formed like so many suns, quaff nectar of the colour of gold and silver. Each part of the flower, he thinks, must present to them a spectacle of which we can form no idea. The yellow antheræ of flowers, suspended by fillets of white, exhibit to their eyes. double rafters of gold, on pillars fairer than ivory; the corolla, an arch of unbounded magnitude, embellished with the ruby and the topaz. "Having examined," says he, "by the microscope, the flowers of thyme, I saw, with equal surprise and delight, superb flagons, with a long neck, of a substance resembling amethyst, from the gullets of which seemed to flow ingots of liquid gold. I have never made observation of the corolla simply, of the smallest flower, without finding it composed of an admirable substance, half transparent, studded with brilliants, and shining in the most lively colours."

And he mentions a botanist, Papa, who had made a collection of twenty-five thousand plants; and that he