No. 19. VOL. II.

PLURALITY OF WORLDS.

With no less truth than eloquence, the Royal Prophet has asserted, that "the Heavens declare the glory of the Lord." No feeling mind can, indeed, gaze upon the starry heavens without mingled sentiments of delight and of admiration. Thousands of stars glitter in the firmament; and the eye is enchanted with the glorious sight. But pleasure is not the only sentiment that so magnificent a scene awakens in the philosophic mind. Enlightened by science, it penetrates through the immensity of space, and discovers in the host of heaven, not mere glittering specks, but spheres of which the magnitude is far beyond its conception; suns bestowing light, heat, and fertility to innumerable planets and worlds! Though analogy alone leads to this conclusion: yet the idea is too pleasing, too reasonable, too magnificent, to be rejected as improbable. In the pride of his nothingness, man may imagine himself, and perhaps with truth, the primary object of his sublunary abode; but he is not the only end of universal creation. In the inconceivable plan of existence there must be other living, other rational beings besides himself. Organization, fruitfulness, and life are perceptible around us; even a drop of water teems with inhabitants; and shall the vast masses of the planets be barren and deserted?

How vast, how sublime, is the idea of a plurality of worlds! Whilst it astounds our reason, it elevates our mind, and gives us a better, though still a very inadequate notion, of that Being whose mere fiat produced the universe, and whose inconceivable wisdom watches over the preservation of this stupendous manifestation of his infinite power. Thousands of stars are perceived by the naked eye; millions are discovered by the telescope; millions of millions are placed far beyond the reach of our best instruments; and round each of these stars planetary bodies circulate, inhabited by myriads of myriads of rational beings! What is the mind of man to cope with such infinity! Yet what is it not to be enabled to arrive at such sublime conceptions? The earth becomes a speck

PRICE 1d.

in the universe, and vain, haughty man a mere atom in the scale of created beings!

The heavenly bodies, it seems probable, are inhabited by beings, whose nature, ideas, life, &c., are suited to the peculiar organisation of the planets they inhabit, and consequently widely different from those of terrestrial beings. This conclusion will be rendered more probable by considering how much the planets differ from our globe, and from one another, in their distance from the sun, the inclination of their axes, the length of If the their revolutions, their magnitudes, &c. analogy we discover between the planets and our globe leads us to conclude that they resemble it in many respects, the similarity between our sun and the fixed stars must induce us to believe that they also are suns, dispensing light, life, and fertility to planetary bodies. Bearing in mind that the universe is the work of infinite wisdom, in which utility must be no less conspicuous than beauty, a moment's reflection upon the vast magnitude and the immeasurabe distances of the fixed stars will convince us that they were not created for the use of man, or as mere ornaments of the heavens. That they are useful to us, no one can possibly deny; but by examining into the operations of nature, we readily perceive that Divine wisdom has ever connected individual advantage with universal utility—an arrangement by which the mind that can embrace at one glance the immense chain of causes and effects could alone establish. So consonant is this idea with the principles of sound philosophy, that even the greatest sages of antiquity-Pythagoras, Epicurus, Anaximenes, Anaximander, and others-taught the doctrine of a plurality of worlds, and believed that the fixed stars were the suns of other planetary systems. Reason alone led them to this conclusion, for they had not that more perfect notion of God and of his attributes which we have received from Reve. lation; but this remarkable accord between the dictates of simple reason and the conclusion to which we are led by the superior light of Revelation, is no trifling testimony in favour of the opinion which has been here maintained.

OF SIENNA.

(Continued from No. 17.)

CHAPTER IV.

"Failing, I know the penalty of failure

Is present infamy and death.”—Marino Faliero.

Grasp the faulchion-gird the shield;
Attack, defend-do all but yield."— Moo e.

After a short deliberation, some of those who surrounded the two women went out hastily, and returned in a few minutes, which appeared as so many hours to the two poor captives, tormented as they were with all the terrors of suspense.

They exchanged a few words with their comrades, and then signed to Nella and Suina to dis. mount, when they secured the animals on which the females rode, by fastening them to some projections of the rock. After this had been done, a man who, like his companions, was completely concealed by the folds of a large cloak, requested the young lady and Suina "to be kind enough to follow him." As they looked upon this request in the light of a command, they submitted passively, and followed.

Trembling in every limb, pressed close to each other, and scarcely daring to breathe, in their blind terror they repeatedly hurt themselves against the projections from the roof and sides as they proceeded; and though a light was of primary necessity in this their subterranean journey, yet their conductor carried none.

As they advanced, the darkness became so great, that they soon lost sight of their guide; and the sound of a foot-fall echoed and re-echoed by the sides and roof, the recesses and crannies of the rocks, that fell on ears that actually listened in an intensity of agony to every breath, with a deafening power this was their only guide.

The hollow sound of water falling in some distant part of the cavern, borne on the breeze that blew fresh in their faces, it seemed unnaturally cool; and the wing of some night bird touching their skins, as, disturbed by their passage, it started up and flew over their heads, made them shrink together as it were into a smaller space, and covering their faces still closer, hurry blindly forward to dangers more real, perhaps, and still worse, than those from which they fled.

After proceeding for some time in this way, they came to a sudden bend in the passage which turned to the right, and when they went round the corner, their eyes were dazzled by the ruddy glare of an artificial light; for they found themselves standing in a small vaulted chamber, formed by an enlargement of the passage by which they had come; the light they found to come from a lamp suspended from the side of the cave by an iron hook, over which projected a large ledge of rock that served to concentrate the light on the objects beneath.

These were a bed of fresh moss, and a man seated thereon supporting his head with his hands, and apparently little affected by the want of distracting objects around, by the ample occupation his own thoughts seemed to give him. The richness of his costume, and the projecting handles of his dagger and sword, which, adorned with briliants, glistened in the light over his head,

larly with the primitive appearance of every thing

else around him.

The arrival of the new comers did not disturb his reverie, and their guide was obliged to stoop down and whisper him a word or two before he exhibited any signs of being sensible of their presence. He then suddenly raised his head, glanced rapidly round, and rising up in haste, advanced to meet Nella and Suina.

"Who are those women?" said he to the guide, who stood with head uncovered before him. The latter gave his reply in an under tone. "What is all this mystery for? speak up-what are you afraid of, Antonio? Oh I see, 'tis a habit you have got; take courage, man; there is no one here but ourselves; it is not here with us, as above in the open air, where we cannot speak. Patience! patience!" he continued, forgetting the two captives who stood before him; "we shall soon succeed; perhaps, this very day we shall regain our place and rank. Oh! your pardon, Signora," said he, addressing Nella, who stood with down-cast eyes, awaiting in anxiety his judg ment. "Pardon us; a cruel necessity has obliged us to be guilty of this breach of gallantry in your regard; we shall give you liberty in a short timeperhaps this evening; we cannot possibly do it before then; the least imprudent step might ruin us. Meanwhile, be not in the least disturbed; I trust no one has given you cause of complaint by acting disrespectfully towards you: such an act being with me an unpardonable crime. I leave you mistress of this place, where you will be in perfect safety; all I regret is my inability to render it more convenient, and I have no better to offer you. I request you will be tranquil until your departure, which we will hasten as much as we can.'

He then made Nella a low bow, which she, lightened and relieved by his words, returned with equal cordiality; and after seeing him depart followed by the guide, she remained listening, as if still in doubt of her safety, to the echo of his foot-steps, as they gradually seemed at length to dissolve into quiet.

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"Suina!" cried Nella, the first to break silence. Signora !" was the reply; and they threw themselves into each other's arms.

"Oh, Suina! I was so terrified."

"And I, Signora I thought they were going to kill us; and yet they are not so bad as they appear; they treated us as if they met us in a drawing-room."

When the topic of their delivery was exhausted— an unusual occurrence with the tongue-armed, the gentle ones--many other matters, though not so interesting, yet were handled with equal skill.

It was while deeply engaged in one of these discussions that Suina exclaimed

"But listen, Signora-see you can hear all they are doing below; didn't they say we were next them ?"

In reality, that part of the cavern where the two females were, was on a level with the external portion, and separated from it only by a thin rocky partition; and in consequence, they could hear, if not the words, at least the sound of the voices of those who were without.

On a sudden Nella sprung forward; she listened

for an instant attentively, and then cried out"Oh Suina! surely, I hear my brother's voice; they are going to kill him if he resists. Oh! my God! Holy Virgin! St. Catherine! protect himprotect him." But as the noise and cries redou bled, she rushed out into the passage, committing herself without reflection to the darkness and terrors from which she had but escaped.

She hurried along, directing her foot-steps by the damp sides of the cavern, and her course to where the noise seemed to come from. But soon the silence of death succeeded, and her only resource failing her, Nella stopped short, exhausted, and not knowing where to turn. To her previous excitement succeeded an overpowering fear. The damp chill and darkness made sad work with a mind suddenly prostrated from a high state of excitement. She felt at every pore; indistinct sounds seemed to come to her ears; and her heart throbbed audibly. Once or twice she thought she heard a cry of distress, and strove to rise, but found herself entirely unable; and then the thought of her brother's danger recurred to her; it was relief to her oppressed sensitiveness, for it made her weep.

Montanini himself, having been informed by Malko of the departure of his sister, and of the place whither she had gone, had set out, as she anticipated, for the cave in about an hour after she left the villa. He was followed by the negro, who, with his hands thrust in the pockets of his doublet, was luxuriating in the pleasures of a morning walk, with all the gusto of an amateur; and occasionally humming over some original tunes of his own, which, if not indeed very elegant, were at least admirably suited to the ear of the composer, and the ingenious machine on which they were to be played. The awful strides of which he was capable, from the great length of his legs, enabled him to equal his master's rapid movements with scarcely an effort; and they proceeded in this way, each in his own fashion, till they came within a few paces of the cave of St. Catherine, when, to the utter astonishment of Malko, who was in one of his most amicable moods, he saw men armed to the teeth, rise, as it were, out of the ground, surround and set upon his master, and compel him, with a pike to his throat, to submit and follow them; and all this did not occupy the space of one minute of sixty standard seconds. His first thought was to seize his dagger-alas! it was only his "teneris avena" he found. His next was to make one spring, unarmed as he was, from the place where he stood, into the middle of the hostile force that surrounded his master, clearing away every obstacle in admirable style, by his own specific gravity and that of his fists, to which there must be added the momentum of blows administered incessantly to the right and to the left, and with the heartiest good will. In a few seconds-for this laborious work did not occupy one minute-Montanini was freed by the exertions of his valet, whose success was as much attributable to the suddenness and rapidity of his attack, as to the weight of his blows; and as men's courage rises in proportion as their cause for fear diminishes, so, in the present instance, there needed for the armed force that Montanini and his servant had so nearly put to disgraceful flight, only to open their eyes, to secure

both servant and master almost without an effort; for twenty drawn cross-bows, pointed to oppose one's further progress, are productive of a won derfully quiescent effect.

But

There was, of course, no alternative left, but to deal with the two last prisoners as with the first, and so both were led into the cavern. Montanini's first thought, as he entered, was about his sister; and he immediately insisted that they by whom he was surrounded should conduct him to her. he had scarcely given utterance to his demand, when a man rushed into the cavern, crying out that the archers and officers of the republic were upon them, that a large number of them were coming towards the cavern, and that they would be there in less than five minutes. This disagreeable piece of news was at first received by a low muttering, which was soon changed for cries of rage, revenge, or despair, as the courage or timidity of each was predominant. All was confusion; when at length, over all this din and noise, the clear strong voice of the leader was heard stopping the cowards as they rushed inwards under the pretence of getting arms, and giving steadiness to the agitation of all.

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Stop! stop, friends!" he cried, as he stood with wonderful coolness at the mouth of the cavern. "You can save yourselves-stand on the defensive, and heaven will protect your sacred cause; or let us rush out on our enemies; theirs are hired daggers-ours as unpurchasable as our liberties, for which I, if none else, am ready to pay the price of life, to retain. Oh! your liberties, my friends-your liberties!-one dagger-stroke and they are free. Take arms-your arms alone can protect life, liberty, honour, name, and family Here are they who would deprive you of all"— pointing to the circle of archers, who, with bent bows and arrows ready to fire, stood round the mouth of the cavern, waiting but the orders of their commander, Castruccio, to commence their deadly work.

A solemn silence followed on both sides. It was first broken by the croaking voice of Castruccio, deliberately calling on all in words, every letter of which was distinctly heard-with such painful intensity did all listen to surrender in the name of the republic.

The leader of the outlaws' voice rose in reply, loud, sonorous, and without one tone that expressed fear

"My friends! take your choice, between the chance of protection from your own daggers, or certain death from the executioner's axe. Surrender, and you will be taken as traitors, and-"

A word, a sharp twanging sound running round the hostile circle, and a shower of arrows stopped him short; this was the signal of attack. The archers rushed forward to take advantage of the confusion they supposed they had caused, but were met with equal determination at the mouth of the cavern by the assailed, armed only with their daggers; and throwing away every thing else as an incumbrance, they too had recourse to the same weapon. It now became, for the most part, a contest of individual bravery, though, indeed, a single stroke decided many a fight. Grasping each other by the throat, face, hair, or whatever could first be laid hold of with one hand, nd

THE WIDOW.

Thus, while he stood, the bull, who saw his foe,
His easier conquest proudly did forego;
And, making at him, with a furious bound,
From his bent forehead aimed a deadly wound.

DRYDEN.

"Come Ned!" said I to Ned Clancey, as he, Tom Gorman, and I were snugly seated round a warm fire, imbibing the comforts of a bowl of hot whiskey punch, (Father Mathew didn't begin at this time,) on a cold wet evening in December-" come, let's hear how you first became acquainted with your wife. I heard the handsome widow Devereux spoken of before you were married to her; they told me you won her by playing the hero, or something that way." Oh! it was through a little matter not worth relating," answered Ned, quietly supping his punch. "But, what was it?"

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"The fact is," said Tom Gorman, "Ned is always a little bashful about the affair; so I'll tell it to you, and don't you interrupt me, Ned. Well, you must first know, that it all happened through a bull.' “A bull! ha! ha! By jove 'twasn't the first affair of the kind that was brought about by a bull, or a blunder."

"Psha! I dont mean that I mean a real living bull; aye, and 'twas a lucky bull for Ned, and no

mistake.

"But hear the story. Ned and I were sauntering about, gently whiffing our cigars, and wreathing the smoke in graceful curls. We were within about ten yards of a confounded ox-stall in street, when Ned tapped me on the shoulder, Look here Tom, said he look here; there's a creature for you!' "What do you mean?' said I

"The widow, you dog-the handsome widow with the child at her side. By jove, what a figure! Isn't she a beautiful creature?-How well the mourning dress becomes her!"

"Thus he went on raving of the beautiful widow. Just when we had come within about two yards of the ox-stall, the door was burst open, and a huge bull rushed out foaming and tossing his head. He had broken from the butcher, who ran after him with a large maul. The bull rushed out-a loud shriek, and the handsome widow lay on the ground in a swoon. I hurried to her assistance immediately. The child ran for protection to a door at the other side, and the bull, attracted by the fluttering of his little cloak, sprung at him. The furious animal butted--the child drew aside, and his cloak was pinned to the wall with a force that staggered the bull himself. Ned snatched the maul from the trembling butcher, and the animal was preparing a second attack for the child, when he received a tap behind. The enraged beast turned, And wildly staring, spurns with sounding foot The sand,"

and aimed his horns at his new antagonist, but received a tremendous blow of the maul that stretched him in an instant. He sprang up with a desperate effort, but with a well directed stroke he was laid in the dust again. The crowd that had assembled shouted gloriously. When the widow recovered from her swoon, she turned to thank me for her deliverance. No, no!' said I, 'there's the gentleman who did that for you, madam.'

"What, from the shouts of the mob, and, above all, the thanks of the pretty woman, Ned must have thought himself an undoubted hero. We accompanied the widow home; the story soon got abroad, and Ned became the theme for the conversation of all the sentimental young ladies of the town. He was a constant visitor at widow Devereux's, proposed in a short time, was accepted, was married, and--but here come the ladies."

Cork, February, 1843.

D. H.

FORMATION OF FAT IN The animal BODY

The carnivorous races of animals thrive on azotized food, which supplies material to replace their wasted tissues, and these wasted tissues again afford material to be oxidated or burned in respiration, and support the animal heat. But besides azotized matter, the food of the graminivorous races contains sugar, starch, and gum, which are not employed in the proper nourishment of their bodies, but solely for the generation of animal heat by combustion at the expense of the oxygen of the air. The disappearance in like manner of fat in the animal system, in circumstances where rapid oxidation is known to occur, seems to point out a similarity in the use of the latter, which thus becomes burned in the body into carbonic acid gas and water, in the absence of the vegetable principles above mentioned. It is well known that graminivorous animals, abundantly supplied with food, containing starch or saccharine matter, and whose respiration is, to a certain extent, checked by want of motion and exercise, become in a short time loaded with fat, which the above consideration indicates to have been formed out of the excess of non-azotized food over and above that required for respiration. This is supposed to take place by a metamorphosis analogous to that by which alcohol and carbonic acid are produced from sugar. This opinion of the origin of fat has recently been called in question by M. Dumas, who contends that the whole fat of an animal body has been furnished ready formed, in that state, by the food itself, and cites an experiment in which a goose has been fed for some time upon maize, supposed to be free from fatty matter, the starch of the grain appearing to have generated the fat found in the bird; an inference which he rejects, by showing that maize itself contains a large quantity of oil it therefore became desirable to obtain additional evidence on the subject.

In an experiment at Giessen, three young pigs were fed, during thirteen weeks, on peas and potatoes, the quantity of fat contained in these vegetables being calculated, from the researches of Braconnot and Fresenius. It was found, at the expiration of that time, the bodies of these animals contained no less than about seventy pounds more fat than could possibly have been given in the food, and which was therefore inferred to rise from an alteration of the starch. An equally satisfactory experiment is described by Bousoingault, in which the butter furnished by a cow was found to exceed greatly the fat of the food. The author then states the result of a chemical examination of hay and straw, with reference to fatty matter, and describes then to contain about 1.5 per cent. of a crystalline waxy matter, mixed with chlorophyil, altogether different from ordinary fat. The excrements of a cow, fed an those substances, yielded a quantity of the same waxy substances corresponding very closely to the whole quantity contained in the food; so that it appears quite evident that the fat of the butter does not arise from this source. The author concludes with observations on the composition of maize, which contains very different quantities of oil, from 1 to 9 per cent., when grown in different localities.-Dr. Liebig.

The reason of the flesh of the stag becoming putrid shortly after its death, arises from the quantity of oxygen which it takes into its system during the hard breathing of the chase. A hunted hare, for the same reason, is as tender as one that has been kept for a fortnight after being shot. The reason is the same. In both cases the action of the oxygen on the flesh produces approaching decomposition-in the one, quickly; in the other, slowly; bacon, on the same principle, was at one time rendered more delicate by whipping the pig to death.-Dr. Playfair.