covered to the westward by Borneo, the winds from that quarter do not attack them with violence. But the north-east winds, tumbling in the billows from a wide ocean, heap up the coral with which those seas are filled. This, obvious after storms, is perhaps at all other times imperceptibly effected. The coral banks, raised in the same manner, become dry. These banks are found at all depths at all distances from shore, entirely unconnected with the land, and detached from each other; though it often happens that they are divided by a narrow gut, without bottom. Coral banks also grow, by a quick progression, towards the surface; but the winds, heaping up the coral from deeper water, chiefly accelerate the formation of these into shoals and islands. They become gradually shallower, and, when once the sea meets with resistance, the coral is quickly thrown up by the force of the waves breaking against the bank; and hence it is that, in the open sea, there is scarcely an instance of a coral bank having so little water that a large ship cannot pass over, but it is also so shallow that a boat would ground on it. Mr. D. has seen these coral banks in all the stages; some in deep water, others with a few rocks appearing above the surface, some just formed into islands, without the least appearance of vegetation, and others, from such as have a few weeds on the highest part to those which are covered with large timber, with a bottomless sea at a pistol-shot distance. The loose coral, rolled inward by the billows in large pieces, will ground, and, the reflux being unable to carry them away, they become a bar to coagulate the sand, always found intermixed with coral; which sand, being easiest raised, will be lodged at top. When the sand bank is raised by violent storms, beyond the reach of common waves, it becomes a resting-place to vagrant birds, whom the search of prey draws thither. The dung, feathers, &c., increase the soil, and prepare it for the reception of accidental roots, branches, and seed, cast up by the waves, or brought thither by birds. Thus islands are formed; the leaves and rotten branches, intermixing with the sand, form in time a light black mould, of which in general these islands consist, more sandy as less woody, and, when full of large trees, with a greater proportion of mould. Cocoa-nuts, continuing long in the sea without losing their vegetative powers, are commonly to be found in such islands; particularly as they are adapted to all soils, whether sandy, rich, or rocky. The violence of the waves within the tropics must generally be directed to two points, according to the monsoons. Hence the islands formed from coral banks must be long and narrow, and lie nearly in a meridional direction. For even supposing the banks to be round, as they seldom are when large, the sea, meeting most resistance in the middle, must heave up the matter in greater quantities there than towards the extremities; and, by the same rule, the ends will generally be open, or at least lowest. They will also commonly have soundings there, as the remains of the banks, not accumulated, will be under water. Where the coral banks are not exposed to the common monsoon, they will alter their direction, and be either round, or extend in the parallel, or be of irregular forms, according to accidental circumstances. The interior parts of these islands, being sea, sometimes form harbours capable of receiving vessels of some burthen, and Mr. D. believes always abound greatly with fish; and such as he has seen, with turtle-grass and other sea plants, particularly one species, called by the Sooloos gammye, which grows in little globules, and is somewhat pungent as well as acid to the taste. It need not be repeated that the ends of those islands only are the places to expect soundings; and they commonly have a shallow spit running out from each point. Adbul Roobin's observations point out another circumstance, which may be useful to navigators: by consideration of the winds to which any islands are most exposed, to form a probable conjecture which side has deepest water and, from a view which side has the shoals, an idea may be formed which winds rage with most violence.-Thomson. Phil. Trans. ICE-STORM IN AMERICA. THE following account of this curious phenomenon is extracted from Mr. Taylor's notes on the weather at Philipsburg, Pennsylvania, in the "Magazine of Natural History" for March, 1833. Feb. 8th.-This morning a heavy rain set in after the thaw, and increased in violence throughout the day and night; and now commenced the most singular, and even sublime, meteorological phenomenon I have observed in this region. It was an occurrence of unusual note, and extended over a large area in this and the adjoining state, and is commonly referred to under the name of the "ice storm." I shall be somewhat minute in describing so much respecting it as fell under my own observation, as noted at the time. Immediately on the descent of the rain, it froze, so as to envelope the trees and earth with a thick coating of transparent ice, and to render walking no easy process. 66 Feb. 9th.-Such an accumulation of ice had now formed upon the branches of the forest trees as presented a beautiful and extraordinary spectacle. The small underwood, or brush," was bowed to the earth, while the noblest timbers were every where to be seen bending beneath the enormous load of ice with which their branches were incrusted, and the icicles which thickly depended from every point. The heavy foliage of the hemlock and spruce was literally encased, or rather formed solid masses of ice, the smallest twig or blade of grass being surrounded by more than an inch of ice, and resembled the vegetable substances sometimes occurring in masses of crystal. Rain fell in torrents all this day, and the chief part of the ensuing night, until there were about four inches of clear ice overspreading the surface of the ground. The change which this phenomenon effected in the usual appearance of the woods was striking. The bushes, and smaller trees, extending to those of fifty feet in height, were now bent to the ground, and pressed upon each other beneath their unwonted burden, resembling, in some respects, fields of corn beaten down by a tempest. Above, the tall trees drooped and swung heavily; their branches glittering, as if formed of solid crystal, and, on the slightest movement of the air, striking against each other, and sending down an avalanche of ice. During the night of the 8th, and on the succeeding morning, the limbs of the trees began to give way under such an unusual load. Every where around was seen and heard the crash ing of the topmost branches, which fell to the earth with a noise like the breaking of glass, yet so loud as to make the woods resound. As the day advanced, instead of branches, whole trees began to fall; and, during twenty-four hours, the scene which took place was as sublime as can well be conceived. There was no wind perceptible, yet, notwithstanding the calmness of the day, the whole forest seemed in motion; falling, wasting, or crumbling, as it were, piecemeal. Crash succeeded to crash, until, at length, these became so rapidly continuous as to resemble the incessant discharges of artillery, gradually increasing, as from the irregular firing at intervals of the outposts, to the uninterrupted roar of a heavy cannonade. Pines of 150 feet and 180 feet in height came thundering to the ground, carrying others before them; groves of hemlocks were bent to the ground like reeds; and the spreading oaks and towering sugar maples were uprooted like stubble, and often without giving a moment's warning. Under every tree was a rapidly accumulating debris of displaced limbs and branches; their weight increased more than tenfold by the ice, and crushing every thing in their fall with sudden and terrific violence. Altogether, this spectacle was one of indescribable grandeur. I could not resist devoting the whole day to the contemplation, notwithstanding the continued rain, of the desolating and tremendous effects of this unusual phenomenon. It was necessary, however, to be careful to remain at a prudent distance from the falling timber. Of all the scenes in the American forests, this was the most awful I had witnessed. The roar, the cracking and rending, the thundering fall of the uprooted trees, the startling, unusual sounds and sights produced by the descent of such masses of solid ice, and the suddenness of the crash, when a neighbouring tree gave way, I shall not easily forget. Yet all this was going on in a dead calm, except, at intervals, a gentle air from the south-east slightly waved the topmost pines. Had the wind freshened, the destruction would have been still more appalling. It was awful to witness the sudden prostration of oaks of the largest class. These trees were the greatest sufferers; and it seemed remarkable that the deciduous trees should be less able to bear the additional burden than the heavily laden evergreens. The branches of the oaks rapidly gave way, while the thickly encased foliage of the hemlocks hung drooping around the stems, upon their long pliant branches, until they appeared like a solid mass, or monumental pillar of ice. In order to obtain some data for estimating the increased weight which the forest trees had now to sustain, I cut off and weighed several boughs of different species, and compared them after the ice was removed by thawing. The following is the result : THIS animal, in some of its various | at length the mullet betook himself to species, is found upon coasts in almost all parts of the world. They are amphibious, although there are some shores on which they are rarely or never known to land, and are said to be as regularly migratory as birds of passage. Their habits are, in general, indolent and harmless, although at certain times, and especially when they have their young to defend, they are remarkably fierce. The growth of these animals, when young, is very remarkable; the seal-hunters in Caithness declare that in nine tides (108 hours) they become as active as their parents. shallower water; the seal pursued, and the former, to get more surely out of danger, threw itself on its side, by which means it darted into shallower water than it could have swam in with the depth of its paunch and fins, and so escaped. On these coasts the seal sleeps on rocks, surrounded by the sea, or on the less accessible parts of cliffs left dry by the ebb of the tide, and, if disturbed by any thing, rolls off into the sea. They are extremely watchful, and never sleep longer than a minute without moving, then raise their heads, and, if they perceive no danger, lie down again for a similar interval. Some general notion of the habits of Nature seems to have given them this the seal may be gathered from Pennant's precautionary instinct, as being unproBritish Zoology, and from Crantz's His-vided with auricles or external ears, and tory of Greenland. On the shores of consequently not hearing very quickly, nor from any great distance. Cornwall they are seen in the greatest plenty in the months of May, June, and July. They vary in size from that of a cow to that of a small calf. They feed on all kinds of fishes, and are so swift, in their proper depth of water, as to exercise an undisputed tyranny, diving with great rapidity, and re-appearing in a very short time at a distance of fifty yards. In shallow water, however, their prey more easily evade them. Dr. Borlase states, in one of his letters, that a person in the parish of Sennan saw a seal in pursuit of a mullet, which it turned to and fro in deep water, as a greyhound does a hare; THE OCEAN. BY BARRY CORNWALL. OH, thou vast ocean! Ever sounding sea! Thou symbol of a drear immensity! Thou thing that windest round the solid world Like a huge animal, which, downward hurl'd From the black clouds, lies weltering and alone, Lashing and writhing till its strength be gone. Thy voice is like the thunder, and thy sleep Thou speakest in the east and in the west Is as a giant's slumber, loud and deep. At once, and on thy heavily laden breast Fleets come and go, and shapes that have no life Or motion yet are moved and meet in strife. The earth hath nought of this; no chance nor change Ruffles its surface, and no spirits dare Give answer to the tempest-waken air; But o'er its wastes the weakly tenants range At will, and wound its bosom as they go: Ever the same, it hath no ebb, no flow; But in their stated rounds the seasons come, And pass like visions to their viewless home, But it is to the Greenlander, and other And come again, and vanish; the young spring arctic tribes, that these animals are indis- Looks ever bright with leaves and blossoming, And winter always winds his sullen horn, pensably useful. In fact, they constitute When the wild autumn, with a look forlorn, their flocks, and are more essential to Dies in his stormy manhood; and the skies them than sheep to us. Their flesh is Weep, and flowers sicken, when the summer flies. the most palatable and substantial food Oh! wonderful thou art, great element: And fearful in thy spleeny humours bent, of these people; with their fat they make And lovely in repose: thy summer form the oil which, during so large a propor- Is beautiful, and when thy silver waves tion of their time, is necessary for lamp Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, light; with their skins they clothe them-I love to wander on thy pebbled beach, selves and cover their boats, sewing it And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teachMarking the sunlight at the evening hour, with their fibres and sinews, and also" Eternity, eternity and power." make use of their blood, and most other parts, for various useful purposes. MORAL AND RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE No. IX. BRITISH CLASSICS-JOHNSON. SOURCE OF THE SCAMANDER, Now called the Mender. and his apostles; and he has more explicit and solemn references to the grand purpose of human life, to a future judgment, and to eternity, than almost any other of our elegant On the 11th of March, having collected our moralists has had the piety or the courage guides and horses as upon the preceding day, to make. There is so much that most power- we set out again from Evgillar, and proceeded THE powerful and lofty spirit of Johnson fully coincides and co-operates with Christian up the mountain, to visit the cataract which was far more capable of scorning the ridicule, truth, that the disciple of Christianity the constitutes the source of the Mender, on the and defying the opposition, of wits and world- more regrets to meet occasionally a sentiment, north-west side of Gargarus. Ascending by lings. And yet his social life must have been respecting, perhaps, the rule to judge by in the side of its clear and impetuous torrent, we greatly unfavourable to a deep and simple the review of life, the consolations in death, reached, in an hour and a half, the lower consideration of Christian truth, and the culti- the effect of repentance, or the terms of boundary of the woody region of the mounvation of Christian sentiment. Might not acceptance with God, which he cannot recon-tain. Here we saw a more entire chapel than even his imposing and unchallenged ascen- cile with the evangelical theory, nor with those either of those described in our excursion the dency itself betray him to admit, insensibly, an principles of Christian faith in which Johnson preceding day, situated upon an eminence injurious influence on his mind? He asso- avowed his belief. In such a writer he cannot above the river. Its form was quadrangular ciated with men of whom many were very but deem such deviations a matter of grave and oblong. The four walls were yet standing, learned, some extremely able, but compa- culpability. and part of the roof; this was vaulted, and ratively few made any decided profession of Omission is his other fault. Though he did lined with painted stucco. The altar also repiety; and perhaps a considerable number introduce in his serious speculations more dis-mained, in an arched recess of the eastern exwere such as would in other society have tinct allusions to religious ideas than most tremity; upon the north side of it was a small shown a strong propensity to irreligion. This other moralists, yet he did not introduce them and low nich, containing a marble table. In however dared not to appear undisguisedly in so often as may be claimed from a writer who the arched recess was also a very ancient Johnson's presence; and it is impossible not frequently carries seriousness to the utmost painting of the Virgin; and below, upon her to revere the strength and noble severity that pitch of solemnity. There scarcely ever was left hand, the whole-length portrait of a saint, made it so cautious. But this constrained an author, not formally theological, in whose holding an open volume. The heads of these abstinence from overt irreligion had the effect works a large proportion of explicit Christian figures were encircled by a line of glory. Upon of preventing the repugnance of his judgment sentiment was more requisite for a consistent the right hand side of the Virgin there had and religious feelings to the frequent society entireness of character than in the moral wri- been a similar painting of some other saint, of men from whom he would have recoiled, if tings of Johnson. No writer ever more com- but part of the stucco, whereon it was painted, the real temper of their minds, in regard to pletely exposed and blasted the folly and no longer remained. The word ПLAPSENON, the most important subjects, had been unre- vanity of the greatest number of human pur- written among other indistinct characters, apservedly forced on his view. Decorum toward suits. The visage of Medusa could not have peared upon the wall. The dimensions of this religion being preserved, he would take no ri- darted a more fatal glance against the tribe of building were only sixteen feet by eight. Its gorously judicial account of the internal cha- gay triflers, the competitors of ambition, the height was not quite twelve feet, from the racter of those who brought so finely into proud exhibitors in the parade of wealth, the floor to the beginning of the vaulted roof. play his mental powers and resources, in con- rhapsodists on the sufficiency of what they Two small windows commanded a view of the versations on literature, moral philosophy, and call philosophy for happiness, the grave con- river, and a third was placed near the altar. general intelligence; and who could enrich sumers of life in useless speculations, and Its walls, only two feet four inches in thickevery matter of social argument by their learn- every other order of "walkers in a vain show." ness, afforded, nevertheless, space for the roots ing, their genius, or their knowledge of man- His judicial sentence is directed, as with a of two very large fir-trees: these were actually kind. But if, while every thing unequivocally keen and mephitic blast, on almost all the growing upon them. All along the banks of hostile to Christianity was kept silent in his most favourite pursuits of mankind. But it this river, as we advanced towards its source, company, there was nevertheless a latent imwas so much the more peculiarly his duty we noticed appearances of similar ruins; and piety in possession of the heart, it would in- to insist, with fulness and emphasis, on that in some places, among rocks, or by the sides evitably, however unobviously, infuse some- one model of character, that one grand em- of precipices, were seen remains of several thing of its spirit into the communications of ployment of life, which is enjoined by Heaven, habitations together; as if the monks, who such men. And, through the complacency and will stand the test of that unshrinking se- retreated hither, had possessed considerable which he felt in the high intellectual inter- verity of judgment, which should be exercised settlements in the solitudes of the mountain. course, some infection of the noxious element by every one who looks forward to the test Our ascent, as we drew near to the source of would insinuate its way into his own ideas which he is finally to abide. No author has the river, became steep and stony. Lofty sumand feelings. For it is hardly possible for the more impressively displayed the misery of mits towered above us, in the greatest style o strongest and most vigilant mind, under the human life; he laid himself under so much Alpine grandeur; the torrent, in its rugged genial influence of eloquence, fancy, novelty, the stronger obligation to unfold most ex-bed below, all the while foaming upon our and bright intelligence, interchanged in ami- plicitly the only effectual consolations, the true cable collision, to avoid admitting some effluvia scheme of felicity as far as it is attainable on (if I may so express it) breathing from the earth, and that delightful prospect of a better most interior qualities of such associates, and region which has so often inspired exultation tending to produce an insensible assimilation; in the most melancholy situation. No writer has especially if there should happen to be, in more expressly illustrated the rapidity of time, addition, a conciliating exterior of accomplish- and the shortness of life; he ought so much ment, grace, and liberal manners. Thus the the more fully to have dwelt on the views very predominance by which Johnson could of that great futurity at which his readers are repress the direct irreligion of statesmen, scho-admonished by the illustration that they will lars, wits, and accomplished men of the world, might, by retaining him their intimate or frequent associate, subject him to meet the influence of that irreligion acting in a manner too indirect and refined either to excite hostility or caution. speedily arrive. No writer can make more poignant reflections on the pains of guilt; was it not indispensable that he should oftener have directed the mind suffering this bitterest kind of distress to that great sacrifice once offered for sin? No writer represents with It must however be admitted that this illusmore striking, mortifying, humiliating truth trious author, who, though here mentioned the failure of human resolutions, and the only in the class of essayists, is to be ranked feebleness of human efforts, in the contest among the greatest moral philosophers, is less with corrupt propensity, evil habits, and adapted at variance with the essentials of the Christian temptation; why did not this melancholy obeconomy than the very great majority of servation and experience prompt a very freeither of these classes of authors. His specu-quent recollection, and emphatical expression, lations tend in a far less degree to beguile the approving and admiring reader into a spirit which feels repelled in estrangement and disgust on turning to the instructions of Christ of the importance of that assistance from on left. Presently we entered one of the sublimest natural amphitheatres the eye ever beheld; and here the guides desired us to alight. The noise of waters silenced every other sound. Huge craggy rocks rose perpendicularly to an immense height, whose sides and fissures, to the very clouds, concealing their tops, were covered with pines, growing, in every possible direction, among a variety of evergreen shrubs, wild sage, hanging ivy, moss, and creeping herbage. Enormous plane-trees waved their vast branches above the torrent. As we approached its deep gulph, we beheld several cascades, all of foam, pouring impetuously from chasms in the naked face of a perpendicular rock. It is said, the same magnificent cataract continues during all seasons of the year, wholly unaffected by the casualties of rain or melting snow. That a river so ennobled by ancient history should at the same time prove equally eminent in circumstances of natural dignity, is a fact worthy of being related. Its origin is not like the source of ordinary streams, obscure and uncertain-of doubtful locality and indeterminate characterascertained with difficulty, among various petty subdivisions, in swampy places, or amidst in significant rivulets, falling from different parts of the same mountain, and equally tributary; it bursts at once from the dark womb of its parent, in all the greatness of the divine origin assigned to it by Homer. The early Christians, who retired or fled from the haunts of society to the wilderness of Gargarus, seem to have been fully sensible of the effect produced by grand objects, in selecting, as the place of their abode, the scenery near the source of the Scamander-where the voice of nature speaks in her most awful tone-where, amidst roaring waters, waving forests, and broken precipices, the mind of man becomes impressed as by the influence of a present Deity. The course of the river, after it thus emerges, with very little variation, is nearly from east to west. Its source is distant from Evgillar about nine miles; or, according to the mode of computation in the country, three hours; half this time is spent in a gradual ascent from the village. The rock whence it issues consists of micacious schistus, containing veins of soft marble. While the artist was employed in making drawings, ill calculated to afford adequate ideas of the grandeur of the scenery, I climbed the rocks, with my companions, to examine more closely the nature of the chasms whence the torrent issues. Having reached these, we found, in their front, a beautiful natural bason, six or eight feet deep, serving as a reservoir for the water in the first mo source. and cast dust upon their heads, according to The Emperor Alexander honoured him with HIEROGLYPHICS. WE intimated our intention, in a late num ments of its emission. It was so clear, that ber, of entering briefly into the interesting rock about the source is covered with moss. Close to the bason grew hazel and plane trees; above were oaks and pines; all beyond was a naked and fearful precipice.-Clarke's Travels. ANECDOTE OF KOSCIUSKO. The discoveries to which we allude are most difficult to be explained, and we will borrow the illustration adopted in the Edinburgh Review. "Suppose the spoken language of England to be what it is-but that no other sort of writing, except by pictures or symbols, had yet been invented-and that it was wanted to record, in some legend or inscription, that an individual called James had done or suffered something. The word James here was evidently a mere sound, and could not be described or defined in any other way than as that sound by which the individual in question was suggested to those who heard it. It could not, therefore, be directly intimated to posterity, by a mere visible symbol or picture, that such a sound had in his day been associated with that individual; and, if this was what was proposed to be done, it is plain enough that some new device or contrivance must of necessity be adopted; and, according to the late discoveries, the device was as follows:-They set down a series of pictures of familar objects, the names of which, in the spoken language, began with the sounds which were successively to be expressed, and which, taken together in that order, made up the compound sound or Name that was wanted. For the sound now expressed by the letter J, for example, they would set down the figure of a Jug or Jar; for that corresponding to A, an Ape or Acorn; for M, a Man or a Mouse; and for S, a Spear or Spur; and thus, by a sort of Symbolical Acrostic, they would spell out the word James, and intimate, to all who read the figures into the spoken tongue, the name or sound which it was intended to commemorate." From all these kinds of writing, a tolerably full language, though a very inconvenient one, was formed. It would occupy far more than the sheet in the hands of the reader to give intelligible instances of each of these modes of writing, and to describe the process by which the laborious men we have referred to have spelt out a translation. Having, therefore, given a general idea of what sort of a written language the Egyptian was, we conclude with an account of the way in which this knowledge of it (and much more) has been obtained. We quote from the Edinburgh Review. rushing with great force, beneath the rock, towards the bason on the outside. It was the coldest spring we had found in the country, the mercury in the thermometer falling, in two minutes, to thirty-four, according to the scale of Fahrenheit. When placed in the reservoir immediately above the fall, where the water was most exposed to the atmosphere, its tem-chiefly the results of the researches of the perature was three degrees higher. The whole English Dr. Young, and the French M. Champollion, of whom the former led the way. It father of history, as Herodotus is called, and had long been known, on the testimony of the It is well known that a Commission of the French of early historians, that there were various pation of that country by their forces, for the purInstitute was sent out to Egypt during the occukinds of writing common among the Egyp- pose of investigating every thing that related to its tians; and modern study has accurately deter- ancient history; and that the greatest interest was mined what they are. They may be generally taken in the proceedings of this body by no less a classed under two heads; the popular, or person than Napoleon himself. Under their ausepistolographic, and the sacred. The first of pices much was done, undoubtedly, for the elucithese represents words by characters desig-dation of its antiquities, and the progress of its nating the letters which compose them, and arts; but as to its language and letters, its hieroconstitute in fact a scanty alphabet. But the glyphics and papyri, absolutely nothing. They second was distinguished by some most curi- had not time, perhaps perhaps they had not ous peculiarities, and was of several kinds, which were employed on different subjects and occasions. In one, objects were represented by imitation; thus the Egyptians, when making use of this kind of writing, drew a circle to signify the sun, and a crescent for the moon. In another, they represented objects metaphorically; thus, they would designate a brave man by the figure of a lion, &c. In another, they denote objects by more obscure and remote analogies; as if they should have represented the word justice by the blind-folded female figure with scales which we see in the present day. And, in another, they designate words (chiefly proper names) by a number of common objects one after another; the initials of whose names, taken together, would make the name in question. This last kind is the WHEN the Russians, in 1814, had penetrated into Champagne, and were advancing towards Paris, they were astonished to hear that their former adversary was living in retirement in that part of the country. The circumstances of this discovery were striking. The commune in which Kosciusko lived was subjected to plunder, and among the troops thus engaged he observed a Polish regiment. Transported with anger, he rushed among them, and thus addressed the officers :"When I commanded brave soldiers they never pillaged; and I should have punished severely subalterns who allowed of disorders such as those which we see around. Still more severely should I have punished older officers, who authorized such conduct by their culpable neglect." "And who are you," was the general cry, "that you dare to speak with such boldness to us?" "I am Kosciusko." The effect was electric; the soldiery cast down their arms, prostrated themselves at his feet, means. The fact, however, is certain; and it is, no doubt, a little mortifying to them, and, indeed, ral, that an accident, which occurred in the course to the pride of human skill and learning in geneof their military labours, did more for the elucidation of these interesting subjects, than all the study which had been bestowed on them for upwards of a thousand years. While a division of the French troops occupied Rosetta, a party of workmen, employed in digging for the foundations of Fort St. Julian, discovered and disinterred a huge block or pillar of black basalt, exhibiting the remains of three distinct inscriptions; but, having been soon afterwards dislodged by the British, this monubrought to England, among other trophies, and ment fell into their hands, and was subsequently deposited in the British Museum. A cursory inspection of the pillar of Rosetta was sufficient to establish, as incontrovertible, Bishop Warburton's profound observation, already noticed, that the hieroglyphics constituted a real written language. Of the three inscriptions sculptured on its sides, a considerable part of the first is unfortunately wanting; the beginning of the second and the end of the third are also mutilated; but the last, which is in Greek, terminates with the important information that the decree which it contains (in honour of Ptolemy Epiphanes), had been ordered to be engraved in Three different characters-the Sacred, or hieroglyphic, the Enchorial, or letters of the country (synonymous with the demotic), and the Greek. So that here was an authentic specimen of hieroglyphic characters expressly accompanied by a Translation. Now, the first step to be taken evidently was, to obtain an exact translation of this translation. Accordingly, the Society of Antiquaries having caused a correct copy of the Triple Inscription to be engraved and circulated, Porson and Heyné, the two best scholars of the age, employed them selves in completing and illustrating the Greek text which constituted the third part of the inscription; a task, we may observe, in the performance of which the superior industry and vigilance of the German gave him a decided advantage over the more active genius of the English Professor. This, as we have said, was the first step; but the next was far more arduous. No data had been yet obtained by means of which a comparison might be instituted between the Greek, which the labours of Porson and Heyné had restored, and the hieroglyphical and enchorial texts, of which not a single character was known. In these circumstances, there was but one course to be adopted; and that was, to adjust the inscriptions, so that they might, as nearly as possible, correspond, and, from the situation of the proper names in the Greek inscription, endeavour to ascertain their places in one or both of the other inscriptions. If characters merely phonetic entered into the composition of the hieroglyphic and enchorial texts, it was evident that, by this means, the value of some of them would be ascertained. It was, therefore, a matter of indifference whether the comparison was first made between the Greek and hieroglyphic, or between the Greek and enchorial inscriptions; but a notion happening to prevail that the enchorial was altogether alphabetical, the first attempt was made upon it. Accordingly, M. Silvestre de Sacy having examined the parts of this text, corresponding, by their relative situation, to two passages of the Greek inscription, in which the proper Lames Alexander and Alexandria occur, soon recognised two well-marked groups of characters nearly resembling each other, and which he therefore considered as representing these names. He also made out, very satisfactorily, the locus of the name of Ptolemy; but beyond this he found it impossible to advance a single step, and ultimately abandoned the pursuit as hopeless. Matters were in this state when Dr. Young commenced his labours. Little or nothing had been done to interpret the hieroglyphics; but the germ of all the succeeding discoveries may be said to have been found, when the idea of fixing the places of proper names had once been suggested, and of considering the corresponding groups of figures as representing their sounds. Having been induced, as he states, "by motives both of private friendship and of professional obligation,” to offer to the editors of a periodical publication an article containing an abstract of the Mithridates of Adelung, a work then lately received from the Continent, the Doctor's curiosity had been very forcibly excited by a note of the editor, Professor Vater, in which the latter asserted, that the unknown language of the Rosetta Stone, and of the bandages often found with the mummies, was capable of being analysed into an alphabet consisting of little more than thirty letters: but, having merely retained a general impression of this original and striking remark, he thought no more of these inscriptions till, early in 1814, they were recalled to his attention by the examination of some fragments of papyrus which had been recently brought to England by Sir W. R. Boughton, and on which, after a hasty inspection of Mr. Akerblad's pamph (let, he communicated a few anonymous remarks to means of preventing. I have understood that the Society of Antiquarians. In the summer of in Suffolk, and in some of the southern counthe same year, he applied himself vigorously, first ties, the larvae of the cockchafer are so exceedto the enchorial, and afterwards to the hiero-ingly abundant, that the crops of corn are glyphic inscription; and, by an attentive and mealmost destroyed by them, and that their thodical comparison of the different parts with each other, he was able, in the course of a few ravages do not cease even when they have months, to send to the Archeologia a "conjectural attained to a winged state. Various plans translation" of each of the Egyptian inscriptions, have been proposed to put a stop to their dedistinguishing the contents of the different lines predations; but I have little doubt that their with as much precision as his materials would then abundance is to be attributed to the scarcity admit of. He was obliged, however, to leave of rooks, as I have somewhere seen an account many important passages still subject to doubt; that rooks in those counties (I have not been but he hoped to acquire additional information in them) are not numerous, either from the before he attempted to determine their signification trees being felled in which they nestled, or with accuracy; and, having made the first great step, that they have been destroyed by the prejuhe concluded that many others might be added with diced farmers. I am the more inclined to be facility and rapidity. Meanwhile, in order to fa- of this opinion, because we have many rooks cilitate the inquiry, he endeavoured to make him in this neighbourhood, where the cockchafer self familiar with the remains of the old Egyptian is not known as a destructive insect; and I language, as these are preserved in the Coptic and Thebaic versions of the Scriptures,-hoping, with know that insects of that class and their larvæ the aid of this knowledge, to discover an alphabet are the most favourite food of the rook. which would enable him to read the enchorial in- I will mention another proof of the utility scription, at least, into a kindred dialect; and, of the rook, which occurred in this neighbourthough he felt himself compelled gradually to hood many years ago. A flight of locusts abandon this expectation, he soon after published visited Craven, and they were so numerous as anew (in the Museum Criticum of Cambridge) his to create considerable alarm among the farmconjectural translation with considerable additions ers of the district. They were, however, soon and corrections. Finally, in the article EGYPT, in relieved from their anxiety; for the rooks the fourth volume of the Supplement to the Ency-flocked in from all quarters by thousands and clopædia Britannica, published in December, 1819, he digested and arranged in a methodical form the result of his researches, and, in particular, gave a Vocabulary, comprising upwards of 200 names or words, which he had succeeded in deciphering in the hieroglyphic and enchoria! texts, and in the Egyptian manuscripts. We do not hesitate to pronounce this article the greatest effort of scholarship and ingenuity of which modern literature can boast. tens of thousands, and devoured them so greedily that they were all destroyed in a short time. Such, at least, is the account which is given; and I have heard it repeatedly mentioned as the reason why the late Lord Ribblesdale was so partial to rooks. But I have no means of ascertaining how far this is true, except general report. It was stated in the newspapers, a year or two back, that there was such an enormous quantity of caterpillars upon Skiddaw, that they devoured all the vegetation on the mountain, and people were apprehensive they would SERVICES OF THE ROOK (Corvus fru- attack the crops in the enclosed lands; but the gilegus, L.) TO MAN, And a Notice of the Prejudice prevailing against it. rooks (which are fond of high ground in the summer), having discovered them, in a very short time put a stop to their ravages.—T. G., Clitheroe, Lancashire. June 30th, 1832. Mr. Waterton, in his valuable essay "On the supposed Pouch under the Bill of the Rook," (vol. v. p. 512,) incidentally shows that the rook is a very extensive destroyer of insects. -Magazine of Natural History. Edited by the late W. GREENFIELD. Superintendant of the Editorial Department of the British and Foreign Bible Society. Arranged. Stereotype Edition. 4s. 6d., boards. The peculiarity in this Edition is, that, in addition to the metrical arrangement, the type is as large as that used in the largest Edition of the Comprehensive Bible, whde the size of the volume is small. Cornhill; Darton and Co., Gracechurch-street; Darton Sold by S. Bagster, Paternoster-row; J. and A. Arch, and Son, Holborn; E. Fry, Houndsditch; and all other A STRONG prejudice is felt by many persons against rooks, on account of their destroying grain and potatoes; and so far is this carried that I know persons who offer a reward for every rook that is killed on their land; yet so mistaken do I deem them, as to consider that no living creature is so serviceable to the farmer, except the live stock he keeps on his farm, as the rook. In the neighbourhood of my native place is a rookery belonging to THE PSALMS, Metrically and Historically Wm. Vavasour, Esq., of Weston, in Wharfdale, in which it is estimated there are ten thousand rooks, that one pound of food a-week is a very moderate allowance for each bird, and that nine-tenths of their food consists of worms, insects, and their larvæ; for, although they do considerable damage to the fields for a few weeks in seed-time and a few weeks in harvest, particularly in backward seasons; yet a very large proportion of their food, even at these seasons, consists of insects and worms, S DIES OF GLASGOW, Apon the present Aspect of which (if we except a few acorns and walnuts in autumn) form at all other times the whole of their subsistence. Here, then, if my data be correct, there is the enormous quantity of 468,000 pounds, or 209 tons, of worms, insects, and their larvæ, destroyed by the birds of a single rookery; and to every one who knows how very destructive to vegetation are the larvæ of the tribes of insects (as well as worms) fed upon by rooks, some slight idea may be formed of the devastation which rooks are the Booksellers in Town and Country. Just published, UBSTANCE of an ADDRESS to the LA the great Question of NEGRO EMANCIPATION; delivered at Mr. Anderson's Chapel, John-street, Glasgow, Shilling. March 5, 1833, by GEORGE THOMPSON. Price One To be had of J. Haddon, 27, Ivy-lane, Newgate-street, London; and of all other Booksellers in Town and Country. Printed by J. HADDON and Co.; and Published by J. CRISP, at No. 27, Ivy Lane, Paternoster Row, where all Advertisements and Communications for the Editor are to be addressed. |