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Wolfert's Roost, by Washington Irving-
The Coquette, or the History of Eliza
Coans de Espana-Bartlett's American
loy Mim A, B. Warner-Blanche Dear
wa, by starry (Iringo Don Quixotte-
DenunciasJarnold Men of Character
Amyan Leight, by Charles Kingsley-
Mansachusetts - Holland's' History of
Chief Justices of the United States. 664
mies-Kern's Landscape Gardening-
low's Poets and Poetry of Europe,
Marian Evans: Translation of Feuerbach's
Essence of Christianity-Samuel Phillips
Miss J. Austen's Pride and Prejudice. 552
II. Foreign Literature.
-Sir George Stephen's Letters on the
Louise de la Valliere.
III. Editorial Notes-Cursive and Dis-
sistency-Physical Strength. . . 439
The Smithsonian Institution. .
J Magazine of Literature, Science, and Irt.
LIGH on the terrible cliff that over- and darker grew the fierce whirlpool. Il hangs the Charybdis of the ancients, All eyes were bent upon the gaping stood King Frederick, of Sicily; and by gulf, all lips were silent as the grave. his side the tairest of Europe's fair Time seemed to be at rest; the very daughters. Often and often had he hearts ceased to beat. But lo! out of gazed down into the fierce seething the dark waves there arises a snowcauldron beneath him, and in vain bad white form, and a glowing arm is seen, he offered the gold of his treasure and and black curls hanging down on the the honors of his court to him who nervous neck of the daring seaman. would dive into the whirlpool and tell And, as he breathes once more the pure him of the fearful mysteries that were air of heaven, and as his eyes behold hid beneath the hissing, boiling foam. once more the blue vault above him, But neither fisherman nor proud knight he stammers words of thanks to his had dared to tempt the God of mercy, Maker; and a shont arose from cliff to and to venture down into the dread cliff, that the welkin rang, and the abyss, which threatened death, sure, ocean's roar was hushed. inevitable death, to the bold intruder. But when their eyes turned again to Bat better than gold and honor, is fairgreet the bold man who had dared what maiden's love. And when the king's God had forbidden, and man had never beautiful daughter smiled upon the ventured to do, the dark waters had gazing crowd around her, and when her closed upon him. They saw the fierce sweet lips attered words of gentle en- flood rush up in wild haste; they saw treaty, the spell was woven, and the the white foain sink down into the dark, bold heart found that would do her gloomy gulf; they heard the thunderbidding, forgetful of worldly reward, ing roar and the hideous hissing below; and alas! uninindfal, also, of the word the waters rose and the waters fell, but of the Almighty!
the bold, daring seaman was never seen He was a bold seaman, and his com- again. panioas called him Pesce-Colo, Nick the "And so it is even now. Little is fish, for he lived in the ocean's depths, known of the fearful mysteries of the aod days and nights passed, which he great deep, and the hungry ocean despent swimming and diving in the warm mands still its countless victims. For the waters of Sicily. And from the very calm of the sea is a treacherous rest, and cliff on which the king had spoken bis under the deceitful mirror-like smoothtaunting words, from the very feet of ness reign eternal warfare and strife. his fair, tempting child, he threw him. Oceanus holds not, as of old, the Earth, self down into the raging flood. The his spouse, in quiet, loving embrace; our waters closed over him, hissing and sea-god is a god of battles, and wrestles seething in restless madre y, and deeper and wrangles in never-ceasing struggle
with the firm continent. Even when of lowlands, become man's obedient apparently calm and slumbering, he is slaves, and carry richly laden vessels moving in restless action, for “there is on their broad shoulders, before they sorrow on the sea, it cannot be quiet." return once more to the bosom of their Listen, and you will hear the gentle common mother, the great ocean. beating of playful waves against the How quietly, bow silently nature snowy sands of the beach; look again, works in her great household. Unheard and you will see the gigantic mass and unseen, these enormous masses of breathe and heave like a living being. water rise up from the broad seas of No quiet, no sleep, is allowed to the the earth, and yet it requires not less great element. As the little brook than one-third of the whole warmth dances merrily over rock and root, which the sun grants to our globe, to never resting day and night, so the lift them up froin the ocean to the regreat ocean also knows no leisure, no gion of clouds. Raised thus by forces repose.
far beyond our boldest speculations, and It is not merely, however, that the thence returning as blessed rain, as weight of the agitated atmosphere humble mill-race, or as active, rapid presses upon the surface of the vast high-road carrying huge loads from land ocean, and moves it now with the gen- to land, the ocean receives back again tle breath of the zephyr, and now with its own, and thus completes one of its the fierce power of the tempest. Even great movements in the eternal change when the waters seem lashed into through water, air, and land. madness by the raging tornado, or rise But the mighty ocean rests not even in daring rebellion under the sudden, in its own legitimate limits. When not sullen fury of the typhoon, it is but driven about as spray, as mist, as river, child's play compared with the gigantic when gently repusing in its eternal hoine and yet silent, lawful movement, in on the bosom of the great earth, it is which they ascend to the very heavens still subject to powerful influences from on high, where "He bindeth up the abroad. That mysterious force which waters in his thick clouds," and then chains sun to sun, and planet to planet, again sink uncomplaining to the lowest which calls back the wandering comet depths of the earth.
to its central sun, and binds the worlds As the bright sun rests warm and in one great universe, the force of glowing on the bosom of the cool flood, general attraction, must needs have its millions of briny drops abandon the effect upon the waters also, and under mighty ocean and rise, unseen by human the control of sun and moon, they pereye, borne on the wings of the wind, form a second race around the globe on up into the blue ether. But soon they which we live. are recalled to their allegiance. They When the companions of Nearchus, gather into silvery clouds, race around under Alexander the Great, reached the the globe, and sink down again, now month of the Indus, nothing excited their impetuously in a furious storm, bringing amazement in that wonderful country destruction and ruin, now as gentle so inuch as the regular rise and fall of rain, fertilizing and refreshing, or more all the ocean--a phenomena which they quietly yet, as brilliant dew pearls, glit had never seen at home, on the coasts tering in the bosom of the unfolding rose of Asia Minor and Greece. Even their and filling each tiny cup held up by leaf short stay there sufficed, however, to and blossom. Eagerly the thirsty earth show them the connection of this asdrinks in the heavenly gift; in a thou- tonishing change with the phases of sand veins she sends it down to her the moon. For "sweet as the moonlowest depths, and fills her vast invisi- light sleeps upon this bank,” it is neverble reservoirs. Soon she can hold the theless full of silent power. Stronger rich abundance of health-bringing even than the larger sun, because so waters no longer, and through the cleft much nearer to the earth, it raises upon and cliff they gush joyfully forth as the boundless plains of the Pacific a merry, chattering springs. They join wave only a few feet high, but extend rill to rill, and rush heedlessly down ing down to the bottom of the sea, and the mountains in brook and creek, until moves it onwards, chained as it were to they grow to mighty rivers, thundering its own path high in heaven. Harmless over gigantic rocks, leap fearlessly down and powerless this wave rolls along the lofty precipices, or gently rolling their placid surface of the ocean. But lands mighty masses along the inclined planes arise, New Holland on one side, South
ern Asia on the other, and the low but immensely broad tidal wave is pressed together and rises upwards, racing rapidly round the sharp point of Africa. An hour after the moon has risen highest at Greenwich, it reaches Fez and Morocco; two hours later it passes through the Straits of Gibraltar, and along the coast of Portugal. The fourth hour sees it rush with increased force into the Channel and past the western coast of England. There the rocky cliffs of Ireland and the numerous is. lands of the Northern seas arrest its rapid coarse, so that it reaches Norway only after an eight hours' headlong race. Another branch of the same wave hurries along the eastern coast of America in almost furious haste, often amounting to 120 miles an hour; from thence it passes on to the north, where bemmed in on all sides, it rises here and there to the enormous height of eighty feet. Such is not rarely the case in the Bay of Fundy—a circumstance which shows us forcibly the vast superiority of this silent, steady movement over that of the fiercest tempest. Even at that most stormy and most dreaded spot on earth, Cape Horn, all the violence of raging tempests cannot raise the waves higher than some thirty feet, nor does it ever disturb the habitual calm of the ocean deeper than a few fathoms, so that divers do not hesitate to stay below, even when the hurricane rages above. Gentle in its appearance, thoagh grand in its effect, this mighty ware shows its true power only when it meets obstacles worthy of such effort. Where strong currents oppose its approach, as in the river Dordogne, in France, it races in contemptuous haste up the daring stream and reaches there, for instance, in two minutes, the height of lofty houses. Or it rolls the mighty waters of the Amazon River mountain higb up into huge dark masses of foaming cascades, and then drives them steadily, resistiessly upwards, leaving the calin of a mirror behin, and send ing its roar and its thunder for miles into the upland.
Still less known and less observed is the third great movement which interrupts the apparent calm and peace of the ocean. For here, as everywhere, movement is life, as rest would be death. Without this-ever stirring activity in its own bosom, without this constant moving and intermingling of its waters, the countless myriads of
decaying plants and animals which are daily buried in the vast deep, would soon destroy, by their mephitic vapors, all life upon earth. This, greatest of all movements, never resting, never ending, is the effect of the sun and the warmth it generates. Like all bodies, water also contracts, and consequently grows heavier as the temperature sinks; but only to a certain point, about three degress Reaumur. This is the invariable warmth of the ocean at a depth of 3,600 feet, and below that. If the temperature is cooler, water becomes thinner again and lighter, so that at the freezing point, as ice, it weighs considerably less than when fluid. The consequence of this peculiar relation of water to warmth produces the remarkable result, that in the great ocean an incessant movement continues: up to the above mentioned degree of warmth, the warmer and lighter water rises continually, whilst the cooler and heavier sinks in like manner; below that point the colder water rises and the warmer part descends to the bottom. Hence, the many currents in the vast mass of the ocean; sometimes icy cold, at other times warm, and even hot, so that often the difference between the temperature of the current and that of the quiet water by its side, is quite astonishing. The great Humboldt found at Truxillo, the undisturbed waters as warın as 22 degrees, whilst the stream on the Pernvian coast had but little more than 8 degrees, and the sailor who paddles his boat with tolerable accuracy on the outer line of the gulf-stream, may dip his left into cold and his right into warm water.
Greater wonders still are hidden under the calm, still surface of the slumbering giant. Thoughtless and careless, man passes in his light fragile boat, over the boundless expanse of the ocean, and little does he know, as yet, of the vast plains beneath him, the luxuriant forests, the sweet, green meadows, that lie stretched out at the foot of unineasured mountains, which raise their lofty peaks up to his ship's bottom, and the fiery volcanoes that earthquakes have thrown up below the waves.
For the sea, also, has its hills and its dales ; its table-lands and its valleys; sometimes barren, and sometimes covered with luxuriant vegetation. Beneath its placid, even surface, there are inequalities far greater than the most startling on the continents of the earth. In the
Atlantic, south of St. Helena, the lead of the French frigate Venus, reached bottom only at a depth of 14,556 feet, or a distance equal to the height of Mount Blanc; and Captain Ross, during his last expedition to the South Pole, found, at 27,600 feet, a depth equal to more than five miles, no bottom yet: so that there the Dawalaghiri might have been placed on top of Mount Sinai, without appearing above the waters! And yet, from the same depth, mountains rise in cliffs and reefs, or expand upwards, in broad, fertile islands.
Nor can we any longer sustain the ancient faith in the stability of the “terra firma," as contrasted with the everchanging nature of the sea. Recent discoveries have proved that the land changes, and the waters are stable! The ocean maintains always the same level; but, as on the great continents, tablelands rise and prairies sink, so does the bottom of the sea rise and fall. In the South Sea this takes place alternately, at stated times. To such sinking portions of our earth belongs, among others, New Holland. So far from being a new, young land, it is, on the contrary, with its strange flora, so unlike that of the rest of the world, and its odd and marvellous animals, an aged, dying island, which the ocean is slowly burying, inch by inch.
And a wondrous world, is the world of the great sea. There are deep abysses, filled with huge rocks, spectral ruins of large ships, and the corpses of men. There lie, half covered with line and slime, the green, decaying gun, and the precious box, filled with the gold of Peru's snow.covered Alps, by the side of countless skeletons, gathered from every shore and every clime. There moulders the bald skull of the brave sea captain, by the side of the broken armor of gigantic turtles; the whaler's harpoon rests peaceably near the tooth of the whale; thousands of fishes dwell in huge bales of costly silks from India, and over them pass, in silent crowds, myriads of diminutive infusoria; enormous whales, and voracious sharks, chasing before them thickly packed shoals of frightened her. rings. Here, the sea foams and frets restlessly up curiously-shaped cliffs, and oddly-formed rocks; there, it moves sluggishly over large plains of white, shining sand. In the morning, the tidal waves break in grim fury against the bald peaks of submarine Alps, or pass, in hissing streams, through ancient forests
on their side; in the evening, they glide noiselessly over bottomless abysses, as if afraid, lest they, also, might sink down into the eternal night below, from which rises distant thunder; and the locked up waters roar and whine like evil spirits chained in the vast deep.
The ocean is a vast charnel house. There are millions and millions of apimals mouldering, piled up, layer upon layer, in huge masses, or forming milelong banks. For no peace is found below and under the thin, transparent veil; there reigns endless murder, wild warfare, and fierce bloodshed. Infinite, unquenchable hatred seems to dwell in the cold, unfeeling deep. Destruction alone, maintains life in the boundless world of the ocean, Lions, tigers and wolves, reach a gigantic size in its vast caverns, and, day after day, destroy whole generations of smaller animals. Polypi and medusæ, in countless numbers, spread their nets, catching the though dess radi. ati by tens of thousands, and the hage whale swallows, at one gulp, millions of minute, but living creatures. The swordfish and the sea-lion hunt the elephant and rhinoceros of the Pacific, and tiny parasites dart upon the tunny fish, to dwell in myriads in his thick layers of fat. All are hunting, killing, murdering; but the strife is silent, no war-cry is heard, no burst of anguish disturbs the eternal silence, no shouts of triumph riso up through the crystal waves to the world of light. The battles are fought in deep, still secresy; only now and then the parting waves disclose the bloody scene for an instant, or the dying whale throws his enormous carcass high into the air, driving the water up in lofty columns, capped with foain, and tinged with blood.
Ceaseless as that warfare is, it does not leave the ocean's depths a waste, a scene of desolation. On the contrary, we find that the sea, the most varied and the most wonderful part of creation, where nature still keeps some of her profoundest secrets, teems with life." Things innumerable, both great and sinall, are there.” It contains, especially, a most diversified and exuberant abundance of animal life, from the microscopic infusoria, in inconceivable numbers, up to those colossal forms which, free from the iucumbrance of weight, are left free to exert the whole of their giant power for their enjoyment. Where the rocky cliffs of Spitzbergen and the inhospitable shores of Victoria land refuse to nourish