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is necessary that we should not only love confidingly, but that we should have strength to suffer reproach with out misgiving or resentment. XV. Self-Esteem in Friends. Fly in all haste*from the friend who will suffer you to teach him nothing. XVI. Eariti/ of Friendship. Friendship, with half the world, means little more than the utter subordination of one of the parties to all the humours and ca prices of the other. In other words, to be your friend, l must be your patron. There is little real friendship. It is a rarer quality than love—is too passion less a virtue for most pe<>ple. Regard ed as the thing it is, we hold the maxim of Polonious to be worth its weight in gold: “ To thy own self be true, And it must follow as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.” XVII. Solitude and Self-Esteem. He will never suffer from solitude who has never quarrelled with himselt. xvm. Definitions. Definitions in relation to indeterminate subjects, such as po etry, the forms and combinations of which are endless, can seldom contem plate more than a single characteristic. You can only describe such topics by histories, and anew phase in the pro gress of either will still call tor anew history. XIX. Woman. The woman knows some thing too much, who too readily disco vers where her sex is weak. XX. Wayside Thorns. The wayside is set with thorns, in all probability that we should not forget our errands while we loiter. XXI. Search. No one need seek who does not believe in the object of his search, and who has not first resolved to find. Faith and Resolution are the two eyes which alone conduct to disco very and conquest. XXII. First Loves. The reason why boys at first fall in love with women who are so much older than themselves, is because of their consciousness that they have so much to learn. When they themselves grow old enough to teach, they seek pupils in their sweethearts. It is thus that sixty, forgetting the pre cocity of the sex. feels a passion for sixteen. (Bliiufispa nf tljr Cnuntrij. COOPER RIVER. Charleston. . To J. />.. Esq., Boston. Mass. My Dear Brother: It was our first excursion up Cooper River. With a golden ideal of waving rice fields, in their autumnal glory, we awoke before the Reveille had sounded its alarm. The “fast sailing steamer Metarnora” left its moorings at Union wharf at sunrise, and the Queen City of the South seemed rapidly to pass away from us. In the early morning, a pic ture lay before us, whose lights and shadows might baffle the skill of the artist. High rushes, deeply fringing the placid river, formed, with their va rying hues, a strong contrast to the darker green of the trees, which seemed the frame of the picture. 1 lore, on the river’s margin, a water bird, in pictur esque beauty, sported; there, a solemn solitary crane, like a sentinel, stationed himself beside the water’s brink; and now a white cloud hovered over the green marsh, for, suddenly emerging from their low-land coverts —their reed v nests —a countless number of these river birds were dispersing; and glittering in the sunbeam, their plumage seemed tipped with silver. A rainbow, with its brilliant arch, spanned the heavens, while it rested on earth. That glorious bow of promise is for us an emblem of taith and Hope, who, while they walk with us on earth, and tinge with hea venly hues earth s shadowy scenes, point to a higher region, where no tem pest cloud disturbs the serenity. Cooper River has chosen a garden spot for its meanderings. It seems never to weary in its serpentine course. Like the rivers in the Isle of Calypso, (so beaut dull \ described by the im mortal henelon.) this river seeks a re turn to its source, and seems not wil ling to quit these enchanted borders. Like the beautiful Charles, of our native town, which wanders miles ere it advances, so does this Southern river linger in its pathway, and at last both mingle their waters in the same broad ocean. I have often thought how much our native State and the State of my adoption resemble each other. Both glorious States, early settled by nature’s noblemen. Numbered among the ori ginal thirteen, each bravely bore her part in the Revolution. Both States are renowned for their love of order and justice,; for their attention to edu cation; lor their social and intellectual advantages; and for the intelligence and refinement of their inhabitants. — Each cherishes with reverent love the noblest of her noble son setts her \\ ebster. (’arolina her Cal houn. And can we brook the thought of disunion! The selfish politician may desire it, the enemy of OU r broad land may seek it. Hoc ltliacus velit, et tuacno inercentur Atridae.’* But the pure patriot loves his country, and knows that the North and the South depend mutually on each other for prosperity. But to return from my digression. The waters of the Cooper, in their winding way. produce some magical illusions. Sometimes they seem to play at hide and seek, for now we catch in the distance ‘‘a line of silver on the lea.” Sometimes a broad river seems to run parallel with the one on which we sail, separated from us by the lux uriant rice fields, or marshes of deepest sreen. In its narrow channels, so cu rious are the windings of this river, that vessels, slowly wending their way, ap peal 1 at rest on the green meadows. The waters and the hulls of the vessels are hid from view by the luxuriant ve getation, and the spreading sails give to the marshes the appearance of tented fields. As we proceed up the river, the sce nery is diversified by plantations un der rich culture, and by white domicils embowered in verdure. Some of these spots possess storied interest, and the historie associations connected with them, will long be remembered by those who glory in their noble State. Soon after leaving Charleston, we passed the Arsenal, with its little tower like powder house. Not far distant is Belvadere, surrounded by verdure. — This rural place was presented to its present owner by the daughters of the illustrious patriot. (Ten. C. C. P. The disinterested deeds of these ladies are too numerous to note in a traveller's sketch book, and to say that they hon our the name they inherit, is perhaps as high praise as can be awarded. The meandering river gives us more than one view of the Woodlands and Hagan. The Hagan is a fine edifice, surrounded by sheltering trees and a velvet lawn of rich green. This, with other valuable property on the river, be longs to the Iluger family. Their name name is rendered illustrious in the his tory of our country, by the efforts of a gallant officer of that family to rescue from the dungeon of < thnutz, our bene factor, Lafayette. Not less honoured in private life than renowned in history, is this heroic Carolinian. His courtly manners, his amenity of disposition, and his elevated moral worth, will lon<r be remembered by those who have en joyed the privilege of meeting him in social intercourse. About forty miles from Charleston are Dean Hall, Rice Hope and Coining- Tee. The latter place is so called from the name of its settler. Coming, and Tee from the resemblance of the river at this spot to the letter T. Here it divides into two branches, the western called bv the Indians “ Etiwan.” Dean Hall, an extensive plantation, was once the estate of Sir John Nes bett, a Scotch Baron, who gave to his American place the name of his country seat near Edinburgh. At nine, we approached our landing spot. Strawberry Ferry. Many of the passengers in the boat had been left at landing places on the different planta tions to await the return of the Meta mora. Few are so reckless as willingly to pass a night on Cooper River. The small boat took us to Strawberry, where giant oaks rise, in solemn ma jesty, shrouded by the sombre moss, and where the smaller trees and shrubs, closely woven, in wild luxuriance, form ed arbors impenetrable. We were re minded of a Floridian hammock, whose exuberant growth had astonished our northern eyes, and also of the descrip tions, in Prescott’s Peru, of the dense forests, which Pizarro and his adventu rous band encountered, when landing from their river journey, the axe only afforded them a passage through the matted foliage, We took shelter from a shower in a building appropriated by the gentle men of the neighboring plantations, to their club meetings. A small church is the only building near it, and after the shower had oeased we wandered about the rural church yard, and among graves and tombs almost lost in foli age, moss and weeping vines. We en tered the church, which seemed damp and funereal, -lust without the chan cel. reposes the dust of him who once ministered to those who worshipped in this secluded spot. After our ramble we seated our selves beneath the shadows of the ma jestic Live Oaks, some of them extend ing over an area of a hundred yards.— Surrounded by luxuriant foliage the very atmosphere inspired a dreamy and delicious languor. All seemed serene and invited repose. We resisted the inclination, for too often “ souuneil esf Id k veritable avant con rear de la niort. The traveller on Cooper River is reminded of the Pontine Marshes, and here as there, death finds a covert in deep shadows, and lurks amid be guiling sweetness. A night passed by this river's side, or exposure to rain here, often produces fever, which strange to say, lingers in the veins fordaysand sometimes for weeks, before giving a sign of its existence, to its victim. W e enjoyed our woodland seats, formed by the raised, extended trunk and roots of the Oak, till warned by some of the party of the danger, on ac count of the recent rain, we returned to the Club Room. Here a pic-nic din ner was prepared. Rice buds and shrimps formed a part of the rural feast. After one more stroll among the splen did trees, we were taken by a ferry boat to the Metarnora. Again we sailed on the placid wa SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE. ters of the meandering river, again we passed the waving rice fields, now gleaming in the light of the evening sun, rich and ripe they were, ready to be gathered by the reaper, to the garner. A golden cloud rested behind an arbor of richest green, but was soon lost in grey twilight, as evening and her sha dowy train appeared. Safely we reached the city, and grate ful to the kind friends to whom we were indebted for this day of enjoyment,and to Him who had made for us this beau tiful world, we return to our home. This, niv dear brother, is rather a meagre account of our charming excur sion, but one cannot learn and be im pressed by everything in a day, and in consequence of delaying to pourtray them, some bright images have faded from my mind, lam told that above Strawberry is a real castle. \\ hen we next go on the river 1 hope we may sail up to Mulberry Castle, and that 1 shall havesomethinginteresting to write you. Prof. A. the great naturalist says, that Cooper River is the richest ceme tery in the world, wonderful in the re mains of the old inhabitants , those wh< lived after the fishes, but before men. Perhaps another Basilosaurus will arise from its waters, equal to the one which is in possession ot an enthusiast in sci ence. 1 )r. C. of Columbia. He showed me one of the vertebra of this monster, which weighed sixty five pounds. Ever yours M. B. (briginnl For the Southern Literary Gazette. TO THE MEMORY OF MR. CALHOUN. BY J. A. TURNER. Weep for the fallen ! Lo, he sleeps and from His toil he rpsts. God called—the patriot went. No more his eye with eagle grace shall flash, No more his heart with proud pulsation heat. The light of that once royal eye is quenched, And from the long, dark night of death, again ’Twill never flash. His lips are pallid now, And in the grave the Statesman’s voice is hushed : No more shall eloquence in torrents burst From the stiff tongue by icy death now stilled. The brightest star that beamed upon our sky Has sunk beneath the dark horizon’s brow. Clouds gather round our nation as it sinks, And tempests laugh that in his hand no more He holds the lash that bound them in their wrath. The granite pillar which upheld the dome Os that proud temple which was reared by hands, Os patriot sages and of warriors true, Has tottered to its fall and is no more. God, with thy potent hand for good, uphold The temple which our fathers budded for thee ! God of our stricken country, deign to look Upon a people maddened in their grief, Thou holdest in thy hands the nation’s fate ; Thou seest the Ship of State, like a bubble rocked Upon an ocean swayed by angry storms, Thou seest that from the helm a pilot’s gone. Be thou the vessel’s guide, and mid the foam, That surges o’er the breakers’ beetling breast, Steer thou secure our good old Ship of State. Fortlie Southern Literary Gazette. TO LEA. Can Lett doubt the love her Damon bears, And to his constant vows refuse her ears? Does love no feelings in her breast inspire, Her heart with fondness and her soul with tire? Ah! blessed hour, when first I saw that face, Majestic mien, and form so full of grace: Oh! who can tell the love that then did rise, Burn’d on my lip, and sparkled in my eyes? Say, will the time ne’er come when Lea’s charms Shine as an idol in her Damon’s arms? Ah ! doubt it not, if but my Lea feels One half the love my look so oft reveals; Thr yve hours, and joyous moments roll, An n a sea of rapture —drown my soul! J. H. M. Charleston, April 15, 1850. (T’lj? lltuinupr. From the Southern Quarterly Renew, for April. ASPECTS OF NATURE. Aspects of Nature, in different lands and different climates, with scientific elucidations. By Alexander von Humboldt. Transla ted by Mrs. Sabine. Philadelphia : Lea & Blanchard. The wonderful progress of physical science is one of the most striking fea tures of the present age. At no for mer period of time does history or fable present to us such astonishing revelations in the world of science, or such daring investigations into the arca na of natural history. The physicists of the nineteenth century surpass, both in the comprehensiveness of their obser vation and in the grandeur of their dis coveries, those of any former age. The tree of science has struck deep its roots into the earth, and spread wide its branches over every part of its surface. Its leaves are eloquent with wonder; its blossoms astonish us with their ex ceeding beauty and variety, and its fruits are more precious than “apples of gold.” To write soberly, and without en thusiasm, of the present state of scien tific developments, would require a de gree of phlegmatism to which we would not willingly plead guilty. Stoics of the “ nil admirari ” school may possibly he unmoved at the brilliant succession of triumphs which science is achieving. They may look with indifference upon the electric telegraph, which renders thought instantaneously vocal a thou sand miles away from the place of its conception, and enables the dwellers upon opposite sides of a continent to commune, as it were, face to face. They may see no cause for admiration in the almost infinite extent of the visible uni verse by the revelations of the tele scope. To them, nebulous oceans, stud ded with archipelagos of worlds, may lie mere matters of course. They may, perhaps, feel no emotion of surprise at discovering the sublime age of our pla net, comprehending a series that puts even arithmetic to the blush, and affords us the most luminous commentary upon that text of Holy Writ which declares that to the Deity “a thousand years are as one day!” They may be un startled even by a glance into the very heart of our mother earth, to find it the seat of volcanic life, heaving and toss- ing with fierce lava floods, the heat of j which extends so near the surface-crust of our planet that it is appreciable in the temperature of the water which gushes from our Artesian wells. All these. and a thousand other sei- I entific marvels, may fail, we say, to j excite enthusiasm in some minds: but : we are not of that class. Such things cannot be “without our special wonder, and we are not ashamed to confess that anew world of delight and enjoyment j is perpetually opening before us in the discoveries of physical science. Akin to our eagerly acknowledged interest in the results of philosophic research, is that which we cherish to ward the great oracles of its myste rious utterances. They dwell apart, in our estimation, from the common herd of men, whose highest ambition is to grasp the sensual, and whose homage to science is thanklessly extorted by the obvious influence it exerts upon the agencies and appliances of their sordid occupations and pursuits. Conspicuous in the annals of natural history, and identified with some of the proudest discoveries in terrestrial phy sios, is the name of the Baron. Alexan der Von Humboldt, the author of the volume to which this notice is designed rather to call the reader’s attention, than to offer him a critical estimate of its merits. A hasty glance at his illus trious career will be n<> unfit accompa niment to what we may have to say of his latest work. Baron Humboldt was born at Berlin in 1769, so that he has very recently completed his eightieth year. From his advanced position, lie may look back upon more than half a century devoted to active labours in the great field of na ture-labours more diversified than those of any other physicist whatever. lie has explored nearly ail the territory of our globe, from the ice-ribbed shores of the polar regions to the arid deserts of the tropical zone. Os him it may w ith truth be said that he has “The heavens and earth of every country seen;” and seen them, too, with no meagre power of vision, or with no narrow scope. lie lias sealed almost inacces sible mountain heights, to determine their altitude and their geographical re lations to each other. He has broken their rocky cliffs with the hammer of the patient mineralogist, and dived into their caverns with the ardour of the geologist. He has plucked the Alpine flower, the solitary blossom of the de sert, and the gorgeous corolla of tropi cal gardens, with the eager delight of the botanist. Ile lias explored the ani mal world in its multifarious forms, with the discrimination of the zoologist, investigated the phenomena of the ele ments with the rare skill of the chemist, and examined the political and social system of various countries, with the deliberation of the political and social economist. In short, he has contem plated all things in the spirit of a most comprehensive philosophy, and by rare powers of induction evolved from the myriad details of his observation some of the loftiest and sublimest generali zations of modern science. It is difficult to say in which depart ment of science this great man has most distinguished himself. II is researches have, however, imparted such a splendor to physical geography that we shall not err greatly in claiming for him preemi nence in that branch of knowledge. Connected with it are many of the most gigantic labors, the records of which constitute his ablest contributions to scientific literature. When he was yet very young, in his twenty-first year, he published a volume of observations upon the basaltic forma tions of the banks of the Rhine, and shortly afterwards he issued a work upon the mines of Freyburg. To these succeeded, with a rapidity that exhibits the almost incredible fertility of his mind, treatises upon various branches of science, among which, his work on “Ani mal Electricity” is the most prominent. In his thirtieth year Humboldt com menced that celebrated exploring expe dition, in company with Bonplandt, the record of which is undoubtedly the chef d'oeuvre of his vast labors, it occupied a series of years, and the scene of it was the equinoctial territory of the New World. It may readily be conceived that to such an investigator as Hum boldt the vast regions of Central Ame rica ottered the most brilliant field for scientific discovery, and no words of ours could adequately estimate the ex tent and value of its results to science. This expedition occupied a period of six years, and they constituted an epoch in the annals of physical science, unsur passed by any that preceded or by any that has yet followed it. It was the labour of many subsequent years to re duce the results of that gigantic explo ration to book form, extending to nearly thirty magnificent volumes. With a part of this work in tin* English trans lation, so skilfully and faithfully rendered by Mrs. Williams, many of our readers are doubtless acquainted. To these labours succeeded others of a deeply interesting character, and his lectures upon the Physical Condition of the Globe, delivered at Berlin in his fifty-third year, display the extent and profundity of his observations. In 1829 lie undertook an expedition into Central Asia, and explored those regions in the Old World which correspond nearly in geographical position to the field of his researches in the New World. The re cords of these adventures were published in 1843, and end ►race a copious topo-! graphy of the Trahan chain of moun tains. the Chinese frontier and the Cas pian Sea. It is worthy of mention, to the honour of sovereignty, that our illus trious traveller was enabled to perform this noble expedition out of a liberal pension of 12,000 dollars, granted to him by bis sovereign, King Frederick William, of Prussia. Passing over other productions of his busy pen, we mention briefly his great work, the “Kosmos,” a name which he himself designates as “ imprudent,” from its grand and startling comprehensive ness, but which was not inaptly chosen, to convey an idea of the aggregated re sults of half a century’s patient, toil some and philosophic observation, in nearly all quarters of the globe. It is truly a cosmography of no common order, in which Nature is viewed both ob jectively and reflectively, both in her own aspects and in the sensations which they produce upon the human mind. Kindred with this great work is the volume which we have made the text of this article, and to an examination of which we must hastily proceed. It is not anew work which claims our notice, for nearly half a century ago its first edition appeared in Berlin, under its present title, “ Amechfen der Natur.” In 1826 a second edition was published in Paris, containing additional essays, and the author has now had the proud satisfaction, when burdened with the w eight of four score years, of preparing a third edition, in which what is new greatly exceeds what is old. lie has entirely remodelled the work, to meet the requisitions of the age, and his an notations and elucidations attest the un impaired condition of his intellectual energies. The papers composing the volume took their origin, as the author tells us, “in the presence of natural scenes of grandeur or of beauty, on the ocean, in the forests of the Orinoco, in the steppes of Venezuela, and in the mountain wil dernesses of Peru and Mexico.” They are both graphic and didactic, having and achieving the two-fold purpose of affording delight by tbe power of de scription, and instruction by an exhibi tion of the forces of Nature in their va rious but concurrent modes of action. The first essay is devoted to those vast and singular areas of land which are found to exist, w ith only local modifica tions, in various parts of the globe, and which in Asia are termed steppes and in Africa deserts. Closely allied to these are also the prairies of North America and the heaths of Northern Europe, which latter extend from Jutland to the mouth of the Scheldt. These plains, whether of vast or small extent, and varying in character from arid w astes of sand to undulating and pasturing mea dows, are all regarded by our author as true steppes, “ with a physiognomy de termined by diversity of soil, by climate, and by elevation above the level of the sea.” These steppes resemble the beds of now evanished oceans, and it is con jectured, with great plausibility, that in the ancient condition of the globe, they were entirely overflowed by water. “ Even at the present time,” says our author, “ nocturnal illusion still recalls these images of the past. When the rapidly rising and descending constella tions illumine the margin of the plain, or when their trembling image is re peated in the lower stratum of undula ting vapor, we seem to see before us a shoreless ocean.” With the pencil of an artist, our tra veller delineates the natural features of these ocean-plains in different parts of the world, and particularly those of Africa, which are characterized by a grander and severer aspect than the others. He describes the great sandy wastes. m> rarely traversed, and impas sable but for the camel, which, in the figurative language of the East, is called ‘‘the ship of the desert.” The tropical position of these plains is the cause of their peculiar physiognomy. Unvisited by the gentle dew or the refreshing rain, and constantly fermented by heated co lumns of air. they sustain no vegetation, but, scorched and blistering in the solar rays, are totally uninhabitable by man. The plateaux of Central Asia lie chiefly within the temperate zone, and extend for many thousand miles. These are very varied in their geognostic phe nomena, embracing vast areas, occupied by pastoral and nomadic tribes, and co vered with luxuriant floral vegetation, immense grassy plains, and tracts covered with efflorescent salt, resembling snow. From these steppes, at various periods of time, the pastoral tribes alluded to have issued in vast hordes upon the ci vilized portions of the glode, and spread desolation in their path. Here dwelt the Moguls and other barbarians. The “ famous Hun,” who desolated the fer tile regions of Po and Volga, broke from the steppes of Central Asia. Thus has the desert sent mildew and blighting upon the flowers of civilization ! It is to the South American steppes, however, that he devotes his chief at tention, where the interest is entirely that of Nature, and where “no oasis re calls the memory of early inhabitants.” The northernmost plains of South Ame rica, corresponding most nearly in geo graphical position to the African deserts, are called Llanos, while those stretching southwardly are called Pampas. The difference in the physiognomy of the deserts of the old world and the South- American Llanos, both lying chiefly with in the tropics, is an interesting topic of discourse with our author. In spite of striking similarity between the phy- j sical outlines of South America and the j Southern peninsula of the Eastern world, | there is a marked contrast in their con dition, in the far greater humidity of the former producing a profuse vegeta- j tion and an arborescence nowhere sur- I passed. This difference is explained by I our author without resort to the mythical geology, which supposed that the wes tern hemisphere of our planet emerged j from its chaotic watery envelope at a later period than the eastern. The true reason is found, in part, at least, in the j difference of soil, in the opposite equa- ! torial positions, in the size and number of the rivers, and in the height and ex tent of the mountains of the two re gions; and wherein these fail to explain the transformation of the African steppes j into a parched desert, the concurrence ■ of some great revolution of Nature is suggested. For six months of the year the Llanos i are almost as arid and desolate as the , African Sahara, but during the other six months they are covered with grasses and vegetation not unlike the verdant steppes of Asia. The contrast they present at these different periods is thus vividly described: “ When, under the vertical rays of the never clouded sun, the carbonized turfy covering falls into dust, the indurated soil cracks asunder as if from the shock of an earthquake. If at such times two opposing currents of air, whose con flict produces a rotary motion, comes in contact with the soil, the plain assumes a strange and singular aspect. Like conical-shaped clouds, the points of which descend to the earth, the sand rises through the rarified air on the elec trically-charged centre of the whirling current, resembling the loud water-spout dreaded by the experienced mariner. The lowering sky sheds a dim, almost straw-coloured light, on the de solate plain. The horizon draws suddenly nearer, the steppe seems to contract, and with it the heart of the wanderer. The hot dusty particles which fill the air increase its suffoca ting heat, and the east wind, blowing over the long heated soil, brings with it no refreshment, hut rather a still more burning glow. The pools, which the yellow, fading branches of the fan-palm had protected, now gradually disap pear. As in the icy north the animals become torpid with cold, so here, under the influence of the parching drought, the crocodile and the boa become motionless and fall asleep, deeply buried in the dry mud. Everywhere the death-threat ening drought prevails, and yet by the play of refracted rays of light producing the phenome na of the mirage, the thirsty mariner is every where pursued by the illusive image of a cool, rippling, watery mirror. The distant palm bush, apparently raised by the influence of un equally heated, and therefore unequally dense strata of air, hovers above the ground, from which it is separated by a narrow, intervening margin. Half concealed by the dark clouds of dust, restless with the pain of thirst and hunger, the horses and cattle roam around, the cattle lowing dismally and the horses stretching out their long necks and snuffing the wind, if haply a moister current may betray the neighbourhood of a not wholly dried up pool. More sagacious and cunning, the mule seeks a different mode of alleviating his thirst. The ribbed and sphe rical melon conceals under its prickly envelope a watery pith. The mule first strikes the prick les aside with his fore feet, and then ventures warily to approach his lips to the plant and drink the cool juice. But resort to this vege table fountain is not always without danger, and one sees many animals that have been lamed by the prickles of the cactus. “ At length, after the long drought, the wel come season of the rain arrives, and then how suddenly is the scene changed! The deep blue of the hitherto perpetually clouded sky becomes lighter ; at night the dark space in the constellation of the Southern Cross is hardly distinguishable : the soft, phosphorescent light of the Magellanic clouds fades away ; even the stars in Aquiht and Ophiuchus, in the zenith, shine with a trembling and less planetary light. A single cloud appears in the south, like a dis tant mountain rising perpendicularly from the ho rizon. Gradually the increasing vapours spread like mist over the sky, and now the distant thunder ushers in the life-restoring rain. Hardly has the surface of the earth received the re freshing moisture, before the previously barren steppe begins to exhale sweet odours, and to clothe itself with Kvllingias, the many pani cules of the Paspulum, and a variety of grasses. The herbaceous Mimosas, with renewed sensi bility to the influence of light, unfold their drooping, slumbering leaves to greet the rising sun ; and the early song of birds, and the open ing blossoms of the water plants, join to salute the morning.” The animal life of Llanos is wonder fully developed, in consequence of the absence of human inhabitants. “ Agoutes, small spotted antelopes, curiassed Hiniadilloes, which, like rats, startle the hare in its subterranean holes, herds oflazychiguires, beautifully striped viverrae, which poison the air with their odour, the large maneless lion, spotted jaguars, (often called tigers,) strong enough to drag away a young bull after killing him—these and many other forms of animal life, wander through the treeless plain.” To these add scaly crocodiles and gi gantic water snakes, which awakened, by the first rain, from their summer tor por heave up the ground like miniature volcanoes, and issue forth to the con sternation of the beholder. The croco diles and jaguars devour many of the horses which abound in the Llanos.— These latter have also a dreadful enemy in the gymnotus, or electric eel, which infests the marshy waters. These eels are sometimes six feet in length, and are the terror of all other fish. Their electric discharge is sometimes power ful enough to kill horses, mules or cat tle ; and the caravan route from Uritu icu, through the steppe, was once chan ged, to avoid the danger of crossing a small river that intercepted it, and was full of gymnoti. The following graphic description of a battle with these formidable foes will interest the reader: “ The capture of the gymnoti affords an in teresting spectacle. Mules and horses are driven into a marsh which is closely surrounded by Indians, until the unwonted noise and disturbance induce the pugnacious fish to begin an attack. One sees them swimming about like serpents, and trying cunningly to glide under the bellies of the horses. Many of these are stunned by the force of the invisi ble blows ; others, with manes standing on end, foaming, and with wild terror sparkling in their eyes, try to fly from the raging ternpest. But the Indians, armed with long poles and bam boo, drive them back into the middle of the pool. Gradually the fury of the unequal strife begins to slacken. Like clouds which have discharged their electricity, the wearied fish begin to disperse ; long repose and abundant food are required to replace the galvanic force which they have expended. Their shocks be come gradually weaker and weaker. Terrified by ihe noise of the trampling horses, they timidly approach the bank, where they are wounded by harpoons and cautiously drawn on sht<re by non-conducting pieces of dry wood.” Turning from the singular aspect of nature presented in the steppes of South America, to the territory which forms a part of their boundaries —the wilder ness of Guiana—our attention is arrest ed by the remarkable cataracts of the Orinoco. The Orinoco, probably, of all the South American rivers, pours the largest tribute into the lap of ocean, though this may admit of ques tion. The Amazons exceeds it in length, and m the breadth of its embouchure, in w hich latter feature it is also surpass ed by the Platte ; but it surpasses both of these in its average width. Our au thor found its breadth, at st>o miles in land, to exceed 17,000 feet. The reported lake-origin of this riv er is entirely dissipated by the research es of Humboldt, and appears to have had its only foundation in the fancy or dogmatism of early geographers. Such is t lie tortuous course of this vast stream, that its mouth and its sources are near ly in the same meridian. It flows first to the west, then to the north, and fi nally to the etist; thus bounding, upon three sides, the Sierra de Pari me. At its first great angle it receives the trib utary waters of the Guaviare and the Atabapo, from the west, and in this vi cinity occurs the Piriguao, “one of the noblest of palm trees, whose smooth and polished trunk, between 60 and 70 feet high, is adorned with a delicate, fan-like foliage, curled at the margin.” Its fruit is exquisitely colored, and re sembles the peach ; seventy or eight v of which form enormous pendulous branches. Three of these vast clusters are ripened on every palm; affording an idea of almost tairy-like profusion. At the junction of the Guaviare, the Orinoco suddenly pierces the great mountain chain of the Parirne, along the southern base of which it hud hith erto flowed, iii this abrupt mountain pass are the great tall- of Attires and May pu res. To convey to the reader an ade quate idea of the wildness and gran deur of these cataracts, we should have to quote freely from our author’s text, which our limits forbid. They are not like Niagara, remarkable for a single leap of an overwhelming body of wa ter, or, like our Southern Tallulah, a se ries of noble and distinctive tails ; but “ consist of a countless number of cas cades, succeeding each other by steps.” The broad bed of the river is encroach ed upon by numberless rocks and cliffs of granite, opposing a myriad of ob stacles to its flow, and producing “ a dreadful noise and wild foaming and dashing.” The highest steps do not exceed ten feet, and of these there are only two, the Purimarimi and the Manirni; from which latter, the most magnificent view of the entire raudal is obtained. We quote our author's description. “ A foaming surface of four miles in length presents itself at once to the eye ; iron-black masses of rock, resembling ruins anil battle mented towers are frowning from the waters. Rocks and islands are adorned with the luxuri ant vegetation of the tropical forest; a perpetu al mist hovers over the waters, and the sum mits of the lofty palms pierce through the cloud of spray and vapor. When the rays of the glowing evening sun are refracted in these hu mid exhalations, a magic optical effect begins. Coloured bows shine, vanish and re-appear, and the ethereal image is swayed to and fro by the breath of the sportive breeze. During the long rainy season, the streaming waters bring down islands of vegetable mould, and thus the naked rocks are studded with bright flower beds, adorned with Melastomas and Droseras, and with small silver-leaved mimosas and ferns.” Near the village of Maypures—a mis sionary settlement—the mountains re cede and form a grassy plateau of great extent, only thirty feet above the highest level of the river. Abund ant geological evidence exists, that this bay was once filled by the waters of the Orinoco, until the northern dyke gave way, and they gradually receded to the eastern margin of the Parime. Among the evidences of this fact, are figures on granite rocks, at an elevation of eighty feet—drawings of the sun and moon—crocodiles and serpents, which the natives sa\ were cut there when the boats of their fathers floated i only just below them ! The Raudal of Atures, is. like that ! of Maypures, only a cluster of rocky | islets, through which the (frinoeo forces its way over successive steps, with a thundering noise, sometimes taking un -1 der ground channels and for a time leav ing the rocky bed dry. It was near i this spot that our traveller visited a re markable cave, of melancholy interest, as the sepulchre of a deceased nation. ! Climbing up a steep and hold granite precipice, with no other support than large protruding crystals of feld-spar. he gained an elevation which overlook ed a precipitous valley, bounded by mountains whose summits supported granite spheres of vast dimensions, ap parently balanced upon a single point and waiting only a slight movement to be hurled from their frail tenure to the plain below. In a densely wooded corner of this vale is the cave or rocky recess of Ataruipe. It contains hun dreds of skeletons. each carefully pre served in a basket made of the palm leaf stalks. Besides these, are many urns of singular shapes, and unique orna -1 merits, containing tlie bones, perchance, of entire families. The legend of this sa<l place is that the Atures. a brave and noble race, retreating before the cannibal ('aribs, took refuge in this val i ley of the Cataracts, where they and i i their language became utterly extinct. The next chapter affords us grand pictures of the “ I Twald.” a primeval forest between the < )rinoco and the j Amazons. The “l rwald” is a term ! properly applied only to such tropical | forests as are “so truly impenetrable that it is impossible to clear with an axe any passage between trees of eight and twelve feet in diameter, for more than a few paces.” This vast forest stretches from the Llanos of Venezue la to the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, and comprehends a territory superior in ex tent to the whole area of the United States! It is traversed by vast rivers with countless lateral branches, which ! form the onh channels of ingress and egress to the traveller. Here is found I every species of forest growth in the wildest magnificence, not grouped as ! in nothern woods, hut crowded I er in countless numbers of families, so that “ each day, and at each change of place, new forms present themselves to the traveller. ihe very undergrowth ! becomes ligneous, and this, indeed, ! constitutes the chief barrier topenetra j tion. Ihe nocturnal life of animals in this wilderness is a theme upon which our j author dilates with evident pleasure.— ; W e quote a passage, to afford the read : er some idea of the “ Voices of the Night” in a South American “ Urwald” ! or primitive forest: “ Soon after 11 o’clock, such a disturbance began to be heard in the adjoining forest, that for the remainder of the night all sleep was im possible. The wild cries of animals appeared to rage throughout the forest. Among the many voices which resounded together, the In dians could not recognise those which, after short pauses in the general uproar, were first heard singly. There was the monotonous howling of the aluates (the howling monkeys); | the plaintive, soft, and almost flute-like tones j ot the small sapajous, the snort'ng grumblings of the striped, nocturnal monkey (the Nyctipi thecus trivirgatus, which I was the first to de scribe) ; the interrupted cries of the great ti ger, the caguar or maneless American lion, the ’ peccary, the sloth, and a host of parrots, of paraguas, and other pheasant-like birds. When the tigers came near the edge of the forest, our dog, which had before barked incessantly, came howling to seek refuge under our hammocks. Sometimes the cry of the tiger was heard to i proceed from admidst the high branches of a tree, and was in such case always accompa nied by the plaintive piping of the monkeys, who were seeking toescapefrom the unwonted pursuit.” In a beautiful essay upon the Physi ognomy of Plants, there is an almost fairy-like description of the beginning and progresss of vegetation upon a new ly-risen volcanic island, or upon the bare crest of some coral reef, which the j united labors of myriads of lithophytes have availed, after myriads of ages, to lift above the waves, affording proof of the incessant activity of the organic forces of Nature. After discriminating the varieties of vegetable forms, concerned in determi ning the physiognomy of Nature, from the palm to the laurel, our author makes the following felicitou sugges tion : “ It would be an enterprise worthy of a great | artist, to study the aspect and character of all these vegetable groups, not merely in hot houses, or in the descriptions of botanists, but in their native grandeur, in the tropical zone. How interesting and instructive to the land scape painter would be a work which should pre sent to the eye,first separately and then in com bination and contrast, the leading forms which have been here enumerated ! How picturesque is the aspect of tree-ferns spreading their deli cate fronds above the laurel oaks of Mexico, or groups of plantains overshadowed bv arbores cent grasses (Guaduas and Bamboos) ! It is the artist’s privilege, having studied these groups, to analyze them ; and thus in his hands the grand and beautiful form of Nature, which he would pourtray,resolves itself, (if I may ven ture on the expression,) like written works of men, into a few simple elements.” The limits assigned to this article oblige us to pass, without special notice, ; our author’s treatise on \ oleanos. in which he considers their structure and its influence upon their modes of action, deducing from his own varied and care ful observations, many very ingenious j laws regarding volcanic phenomena. The next paper is entitled “ The Rlio- j dian Genius,” and is a semi-mythical il lustration of what our author designates “ A ital Force,” as represented by an al legorical picture famous among the Sy racusans and called the “ Rhodian Ge nius.” A picture of the Plateau of Caxamar ca, the ancient capital of the Inca Ata huallpa, and a first view of the Pacific ocean front the crest of the Andes, ap propriately and grandly close these “As pects of Nature.” In the lofty fastness es of the Corderillas, our traveller en countered remains of that gigantic work ; —the artificial road of the Incas, which 1 1 extended through all that ancient an< ; renowned empire, and was over a thou sand miles in length. This stupendous! work, achieved at an altitude of ] 3 feet above the sea, attests the energy 0 f the old Peruvians, surpassing as it di!j iii solidity and grandeur any of the road of Spain or Italy, or indeed of the old world. Nor was it this road alone, th a . bore witness to the controlling despot! ism of the Inca sway, for in every of the territory, artificial roads i tr ! I built upon a magnificent scale. As they ! were never used for carriages, they often J ascended mountain heights by 1 01) „ | flight of steps, which opposed’ no oC l stacle to the march of the Inca troop. : oi <?\<?n to the lamas, which they as leasts of burden, but which were for : midable barriers to the Spanish cavalry under Pizarro and Almagro, who made use of the military roads in their distant ; expeditions. The fate of the last of the Incas, and the memorials of his o-r eat . j nesslend a <h*P interest to this part of | our author’s work. But we must ] lasten | to a close. Let us, however, linger for a moment with our illustrious traveller, upon the Alta de Guangamarta, and look forth upon the Pacific ocean from an eyrie nearly ten thousand feet above the level |of its majestic waves Ilow calm it j looks, but our bosoms —how tumultu ! ously they bear! And well they may. for there lies before us the noblest sight in Nature—the vast expanse of waters which lave mighty continents on op posite skies of the globe : upon whose I eastern margin the ports of American commerce are speedily to be established, and towards which the march ofcivili- I zation, of the .arts, and of ('liristianitv. i now tending! \\ e have barely glanced at the volume before us, and have forlorne to attempt oven jydigest of the observations it eon tains. The interest which now attaches itself to the great project of opening a communication between the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans, across the Isthmus of Panama, will, however, justify us in special allusion to the views of our au thor upon that subject. In a note to tin last paper, touching the expedition of Vasco Nunez de Balboa, lie says : “ As die taking possession of a considerable part of the west coast of the new continent by the United States of North America, and the report of the abundance of gold in New Cal ifornia, (now called Upper California,) have rendered more urgent than ever the formation of a communication between the Atlantic State, and the region of the west through the Isthmus of Panama, I feel it my duty to call attention once again to the circumstance that the short est way to the shores of the Pacific, which was shown by the natives to Alonso Martin de Don Ben ito, is in the eastern part of the Isthmus, and led to theGolfo De San Miguel.” After showing that the surveys al readv made have been in the wrong direction, viz: in that of a meridian be tween Panama and Porto Bello, or to wards Chagres and Cruces, thus leaving the eastern and south eastern parts of the Isthmus—by far the most import ant parts —altogether unexamined, he insists that any conclusion prejudicial to the formation of tin oceanic canal, per mitting ships to pass from one ocean to tht* other at all seasons, is premature; and continuing his argument and illus trations he concludes as follows; “ Let that part be particularly examined where, near the continent of South America, the separating mountain ridge sinks into hills. Seeing the importance of the subject to the great commerce of the world,the research ought not, as hitherto, to be restricted to a limited field. A great and comprehensive work, which i shall include the whole eastern part of the Isth mus, and which will be equally useful for ev ! erv possible kind of operation or construction —lor canal or for railway—can alone decide the much discussed problem either affirmative jiy or negatively. That will he done at last which should, and had my advice been taken, would have been done in the first instance.” Various indeed, and grand as varied, are the aspects of Nature which are pre sented to us in this remarkable volume. ■ It is refreshing beyond measure to turn , aside from the pat hs of business and from the haunts of Mammon to contemplate, i with a calm and enquiring spirit, the sub lime manifestations of the Deity in his works, with such a guide for our steps as Humboldt. It is in such companion j ship, and in such employment, that we feel the truth and adopt the spirit of the impassioned apostrophe of an English poet: “ Oh, Nature, how in every charm supreme, Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ; Oh for the voice and fire of Seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due : Biest be the day 1 ’scaped the wrangling crew, Front Pyrrhus’ maze and Epicurus’ sty, And held high converse with the godlike few, Who to th’ enraptuted heart and ear and eye : Teach beauty virtue, truth and love and mel ody !” iT'lir ?nrrrii altar. SPIRITUAL PRESENCES. BV JAMES It. PF.RKIXS. It is a beautiful belief, That ever round our head Are hovering on noiseless wing The spirits of the dead. It is a beautiful belief, When ended our career, That it will be our ministry To watch o’er others here ; To lend a moral to the flower, Breathe wisdom on the wind ; To hold commune at night’s still noon With the imprisoned mind ; To bid the mounter cease to mourn. The trembling be forgiven ; To bear away, from ills of clay, Tht* infant to its heaven. Ah! when delight was found in life, And joy in every breath, 1 cannot tell how terrible The mystery of death. But now the past :s bright to me, And all the future clear, For ‘tis my faith that after death I still shall linger here. Lesson for Sunday May 12th. THE TESTIMONY OF JESIS. ‘* He that hath received his testimy hath set to his seal that God is true.”- John iii. 38. This was the language of John res “ ~P , pectin £ the Saviour. lie discovered a noble spirit, devoid of everything like | envy and jealousy, when he exclaimed, “He must increase but I must de crease. So it is with the morning star; it shines brightly till the sun rises, but when his beams reach our horison, it is eclipsed by the superior lustre of the luminary of day. Let us consider the testimony of Jesus in three points of view. xVs recorded. But where ? In the Bible. Note. The excellency of its matter. It re lates to subjects of the most solemn and sublime character, the nature, perfec tions, and government of God, and the condition, duties, and destinies of man. The evidence of its truth. It is not a mere unauthenticated report, but a