surrounding nations are blessed through their mercy, and, according to the latest intelligence, the prospects of usefulness, especially among the Navigators' Islands, were never so encouraging as at the present time. Since the year 1817, the printing-press has been in operation, and, among a people heretofore destitute of a written language, 105,400 copies of portions of the Scripture and Christian books have been put into circulation."

Civilisation is the natural fruit of Christianity. Henry, a clergyman of the Church Missionary Society in New Zealand, in answer to the question by the Aborigines' committee, "From the experience you have had in missionary exertions, would you begin by attempting to civilise, or by attempting to christianise?' says, "Certainly by attempting to christianise; fifteen years we attempted to civilise without effect, and the very moment that Christianity established itself in only one instance in the island, from that moment civilisation commenced, and has been going on, hand in hand with Christianity, but never preceded it. We found them decidedly a savage people, addicted to cannibalism, to murder, and to every thing which was evil, and accustomed to evils from Europeans."

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The Rev. John Williams stated before the same committee, "In the island of Rarotonga, which I discovered, I found them all heathens; I placed native missionaries among them, and by the native missionaries alone they were all converted to the fession of Christianity, so that on my second visit to that very place I found not an idolater remaining. This has been the case in eight different islands to which I have taken native missionaries. The inhabitants of eight islands were entirely converted to Christianity by the agency of native missionaries. The original station was only one island, that of Tahiti; and the knowledge of Christianity was conveyed to the islands where the American missionaries are, first, by means of native converts from the island of Tahiti, and so with respect to the islands where the Wesleyan missionaries are. Christianity was first conveyed to them by native missionaries from other islands. I think, without including the Friendly Islands or the American missionary stations, we must have forty or fifty islands under our own instruction at the present time, by native agency, superintended by ourselves, except in our own immediate stations. The Tahitian and Society islands are christianised; the Austral Islands group, about 350 miles from Tahiti; the Harvey Islands, about 700 miles west of Tahiti; the Vavou Islands, and the Hapai and the Sandwich Islands, where the American missionaries are labouring, and are 3000 miles north of Tahiti, and the inhabitants also of the eastern Archipelago, about 500 or 600 east of Tahiti, have received the gospel."

Thus, then, amidst these clusters of islands, containing a population known to exceed a million, and perhaps of several millions, a change (as we have seen) of unequalled importance, because affecting so large a mass of mankind, has been begun in our own time, and has been almost imperceptibly going forward. They have become factors to furnish our vessels with provisions, and merchants to deal with us in the agricultural growth of their own country. Their language has been reduced to writing, and they have gained the knowledge of letters. They have, many of them, emerged from the tyranny of the will of their chiefs into the protection of a written law, abounding with liberal and enlightened principles, and 200,000 of them are reported to have embraced Christianity.

MR. GEORGE HIBBERT.

Mr. George Hibbert was one of the most distinguished of those princely merchants whose knowledge of literature, patronage of the arts, and extensive intercourse with the world have contributed so much, in a great commercial country like our own, to elevate the rank and character

of the class to which they belong, and to give to the pursuits of wealth an enlarged and liberalizing spirit. Mr. Hibbert possessed, during the most active period of his life, an uncommon influence amongst the great commercial bodies of the metropolis, and more particularly amongst those connected with the West India trade, from his integrity and high character, his great knowledge of business, his excellent sense and judgment, and his clearness and readiness in public speaking. He was an excellent botanist, and the collection of plants which he had formed at his residence at Clapham was remarkable, not merely for its great extent, but likewise

LONDON.

INTRODUCTORY ARTICLE.: WHEN we look abroad over the mighty city of London, we are involuntarily struck with the thought, how shall any one mind comprehend all the springs of action that animate this multitude of moving beings? how estimate the effects of all the jarring interests of the busy mass? We can look upon its surface and there trace something of the circulation of its life-blood, as some of the veins and arteries of our frame are dimly apparent through their coverings, but we cannot trace and depict all the ramifications; we can feel the pulse, but we cannot lay bare the heart.

It is indeed an impressive sight, striking to those who each day behold it, but to the stranger most wondrous.

Review," an affection for a great city. "We have," says an eloquent writer in the North American We feel safe in the neighbourhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of streets.' The excitement of the crowd is pleasant to us. We find sermons

in the stones of side-walks. In the continuous sound of voices,

and wheels, and footsteps, we hear the sad music of humanity.' beings around us are not the insects of a day, but the pilgrims We feel that life is not a dream, but an earnest reality; that the history of thousand-fold occurrences, insignificant it may be of an eternity; they are our fellow-creatures, each with his to us, but all-important to himself; each with a human heart, whose fibres are woven into the great web of human sympathies ; and none so small that, when he dies, some of the mysterious meshes are not broken.

"The green earth, and air, and the sea, all living and all lifeless things, preach unto us the gospel of a great and good Providence; but most of all does man, in his crowded cities, and in his manifold powers, and wants, and passions, and deeds, preach this same gospel. He is the great evangelist. And though oftentimes, unconscious of his mission, or reluctant to fulfil it, he leads others astray, even then to the thoughtful mind he preaches. We are in love with nature, and most of all with human nature. The face of man is a benediction to us. The greatest works of his handicraft delight us hardly less than the greatest works of nature. They are the masterpieces of her own masterpiece.' Architecture, and painting, and sculpture, and music, and epic poems, and all the forms of art, wherein the hand of genius is visible, please us evermore, for they conduct us into the fellowship of great minds. And thus our sympathies are with men, and streets, and city-gates, and towers from which the great bells sound solemnly and slow, and cathedral doors, where venerable statues, holding books in their hands, look down the air come and build their nests in the arms of saints and like sentinels upon the church-going multitude, and the birds of apostles. And more than all this, in great cities we learn to look the world in the face. We shake hands with stern realities. We see ourselves in others. We become acquainted with the motley, many-sided life of man; and finally learn, if we are wise, to 'look upon a metropolis as a collection of villages; a village as some blind alley in a metropolis; fame as the talk of neighbours at the street-door; a library as a learned conversation; joy as a second; sorrow as a minute; life as a day; and three things as all in all, God, Creation, Virtue.'

"Now of all cities is London the monarch. To us likewise is it the great metropolis. We are not cockneys. We were born on this side of the sea. Our family name is not recorded in the Domesday Book. It is doubtful whether our ancestral tree was planted so far back as the Conquest. Nor are we what Sir Philip Sidney calls wry-transformed travellars. We do not affect a foreign air, nor resemble the merry friar in the Canterbury Tales, of whom the prologue says,―

Somewhat he lisped for his wantonnesse, To make his English sweet upon his tongue.' Nevertheless to us likewise is London the monarch of cities. The fact, that the English language is spoken in it, makes us feel at home there, and gives us, as it were, the freedom of the

was well known also as a very extensive and judicious collector of books, prints, drawings, and paintings, and was endeared to a large circle of private friends, amongst the most cultivated classes of society in this country, by his refined yet simple manners, his happy temper, and his many social and domestic virtues.

Farewell Address of the Duke of Sussex.

We remember it as far back as the happy days, when we loved nursery songs, and rode a-horseback on best father's knee.' Whittington and his cat lived there. All our picture-books and our sisters' dolls came from there; and we thought, poor children! that everybody in London sold dolls and picture-books,

as the country boy imagined that everybody in Boston sold gingerbread, because his father always brought some home from town on market days. Since those times we have grown wiser. We have been in St. Paul's church-yard, and know by heart all the green parks and quiet squares of London.

"Forty-five miles westward from the North Sea, in the lap of a broad and pleasant valley watered by the Thames, stands the great metropolis, as all the world knows. It comprises the City of London and its Liberties, with the City and Liberties of Westminster, the Borough of Southwark, and upwards of thirty of the contiguous villages of Middlesex and Surrey. East and west, its greatest length is about eight miles; north and south, its greatest breadth about five: its circumference from twenty to thirty. Its population is estimated at two millions. The vast living tide goes thundering through its ten thousand streets in one unbroken roar. The noise of the great thoroughfares is deafening. But you step aside into a by-lane, and anon you emerge into little green squares half filled with sunshine, half with shade, where no sound of living thing is heard, save the voice of a bird or a child, and amid solitude and silence you gaze in wonder at the great trees 'growing in the heart of a brick-andmortar wilderness.' Then there are the three parks, Hyde, Regent's, and St. James's, where you may lose yourself in green alleys, and dream you are in the country; Westminster Abbey, with its tombs and solemn cloisters, where with the quaint George Herbert you may think, that when the bells do chime, it is angels' music;' and high above all, half hidden in smoke and vapour, rises the dome of St. Paul's.

"These are a few of the more striking features of London. More striking still is the Thames. Above the town, by Richmond Hill and Twickenham, it winds through groves and meadows green, a rural silver stream. The traveller who sees it here for the first time, can hardly believe, that this is the mighty river which bathes the feet of London. He asks perhaps the coachman, what stream that is! and the coachman answers with a stare of wonder and pity, "The Tems, sir." Pleasure-boats are gliding back and forth, and stately swans float, like water lilies, on its bosom. On its banks are villages, and churchtowers, beneath which, among the patriarchs of the hamlet, lie many gifted sons of song,

In sepulchres unhearsed and green.'

"In and below London the whole scene is changed. Let us view it by night. Lamps are gleaming along the shore, and on the bridges, and a full moon rising over the Borough of Southwark. The moonbeams silver the rippling, yellow tide, wherein also flare the shore lamps, with a lambent, flickering gleam. Barges and wherries move to and fro, and heavy-laden luggers are sweeping up stream with the rising tide, swinging sideways, with loose, flapping sails. Both sides of the river are crowded with sea and river craft, whose black hulks lie in shadow, and whose tapering masts rise up into the moonlight like a leafless forest. A distant sound of music floats on the air; a harp, and a flute, and a horn. It has an unearthly sound; and lo! like a shooting star, a light comes gliding on. It is the signal lamp at the mast head of a steam-vessel that flits by, like a cloud, above which glides a star. And from all this scene goes up a sound of human voices,-curses, laughter and singing,-mingled with the monotonous roar of the city, the clashing and careering streams of life, hurrying to lose themselves in the impervious gloom of eternity.' And now the midnight is past, and amid the general silence the clock strikes-one, two. Far distant from some belfry in the suburbs comes the first sound, so indistinct as hardly to be distinguished from the crowing of a cock. Then close at hand the great bell of St. Paul's with a heavy, solemn sound-one, two. It is answered from Southwark, then at a distance, like an echo; and then all around you, with various and intermingling clang, like a chime of bells, the clocks from a hundred belfries strike the hour. But the moon is already sinking, large and fiery, through the vapours of the morning. It is just in the range of the chimneys and house-tops, and seems to follow you with speed, as you float down the river, between unbroken ranks of ships. Day is dawning in the east, not with a pale streak in the horizon, but with a silver light spread through the sky, almost to the zenith. It is the mingling of moonlight and daylight. The water is tinged with a green hue, melting into purple and gold, like the brilliant scales of a fish. The air grows cool. It comes fresh from the eastern sea, towards which we are swiftly gliding:

"Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples, lle
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!'"

It is difficult, almost impossible, fully to understand the working of that great society, or rather congregation of societies, of which the population of London consists, for from the lowest den, to the stately palace, all the inhabitants form little separate societies, pressed together, as it were, by the vast weight around them, as material bodies are held together by the pressure of the atmosphere; each of these societies has its own interests, its own characteristics, its own gossip, and is so completely wrapped up in itself that the Londoner is frequently more ignorant of the intellectual resources of the metropolis than he who has never visited it; (the places of amusement he learns from the newspapers.) The youth who ardently pants after knowledge often labours in vain, for want of assistance within his reach, but yet hidden from him.

The minds of men at the present day are bent upon the acquirement of real, not superficial knowledge; its possession is necessary to maintain a man's rank in society, and the rising generation will raise the scale of necessary knowledge yet higher. This effect of an increasing improvement in the intellectual requisites of good society is felt and acknowledged all over the kingdom. Strong efforts have been made and are making in the provinces to meet it. The metropolis has led and will continue to lead the way. But the peculiar constitution of its society prevents many of the objects of the projectors of various institutions from being fulfilled. The man of business, and most of those who reside in or near London, frequenting it daily, are men of business, know little that is passing beyond their diurnal occupation, the politics of the day, and affairs that happen in or projects that are taken up by the society, the circle, the domestic world, they move in; and thus an admirable library or institution may be found at the elbow of many a man who is scarcely aware of its existence, but which once known would be prized and used.

How numerous are the societies, institutions, and libraries, public, proprietary, and subscriptionary, yet comparatively how little known, even to those who reside close to them! The advantages afforded by them are little understood, and for want of more extended information very many who would otherwise willingly seek them, are excluded from their benefits. We purpose from time to time to supply this want, and to give a brief but correct and sufficient notice of all such as, by the nature of their constitution, are of general interest.

LACE MADE BY CATERPILLARS.

A MOST extraordinary species of manufacture has been contrived by an officer of engineers residing at Munich. It consists of lace and veils, with open patterns in them, made entirely by caterpillars. The following is the mode of proceeding;-Having made a paste of the leaves of the plant on which the species of caterpillar he employs feeds, he spreads it thinly over a stone or other flat substance of the required size. He then, with a camel-hair pencil dipped in olive oil, draws the pattern he wishes the insects to leave open. This stone is then placed in an inclined position, and a considerable number of the caterpillars are placed at the bottom. A peculiar species is chosen, which spins a strong web: and the animals commence at the bottom, eating and spinning their way up to the top, carefully avoiding every part touched by the oil, but devouring every other part of the paste. The extreme lightness of these veils, combined with some strength, is truly surprising. One of them measuring 264 by 17 inches, weighed only a grain and a half, a degree of lightness which will appear more strongly by contrast with other fabrics. One square yard of the substance of which these veils are made weighs 4 grains; whilst one square yard of silk gauze weighs 137 1-3 grains; and one square yard of the finest net weighs 262 grains.

THE LOSS OF THE THETIS FRIGATE. THE Thetis frigate of forty-six guns, and a crew of 300 men, which sailed from Rio Janeiro for England, having gold, silver, and various other treasure, on board, to the amount of 810,000 dollars, the property of merchants and others in this country, was wrecked off Cape Frio, an island on the coast of Brazil, on the 5th of Decr. 1830. The vessel, in the darkness of the night, had missed its course, and ran foul of the cliffs of that island, and in a few seconds the bowsprit and all three masts being carried away one fell swoop," the ship was instantly reduced from the grandeur of full sail, to a helpless and unmanageable hulk. In spite of the efforts of the crew, the ill-fated vessel went down before day-break. The preservation of so many lives was truly providential, for the nook in which the Thetis was lost is the only spot on the whole line of coast, where they could possibly have been saved; only twenty-eight out of upwards of 300 persons having lost their lives. With her cargo and stores she was 1600

tons burden.

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Captain Dickinson of the Lightning sloop of war, (which had come into Rio on the day of the disaster,) inspired with the idea of professional reputation, conceived the adventurous project of recovering the whole, or a portion of this immense treasure, and by the consent of Admiral Baker, the commander-in-chief on the South American station, he immediately made arrangements for what many of his friends considered an Utopian experiment. But Captain Dickinson, one of Collingwood's protégés, had been in "actual and active service from nine years of age," and in these "piping times of peace," longed for meritorious distinction.

In such a quarter of the world, the difficulties of such an undertaking were immense. In the first place, neither in the city of

Rio Janeiro nor its arsenal, were to be found either of those indispensables-a diving-bell, or an air-pump; so that from the beginning the affair may be cited as an instance of how much may be accomplished by a determination to succeed in any undertaking. The Thetis sunk in a cove or inlet of the island of Frio, running inwards about 100 fathoms, and 90 fathoms broad, surrounded by cliffs from 80 to 194 feet in height, with an exposure to the whole force of the South Atlantic Ocean. The place looked terrific, and the responsibility seemed awful; yet the brave captain anchored on the opposite side of the island on the 31st of January, landed two-thirds of his crew, which consisted wholly of 135, commenced the erection of store-houses, workshops, temporary residences, and making such other arrangements as the work required. This done, their first operation was to construct a diving-bell, which was contrived out of two two-ton water-tanks, and other materials within their reach, which weighed 80 cwt. They also constructed an air-pump, but the desideratum of airtight hose seemed, for a time, to baffle their ingenuity. This difficulty was also overcome, by dressing up the hose of a Truscot pump and Fisher's watering apparatus from on board. The magnitude, and the hazardous nature of the undertaking, may be conceived from the nature of the appliances by which the divingbell was to be used, and the depth of the ocean explored. While the diving-bell and a huge derrick or crane were being made, the residue of the crew were employed in forming platforms, and cutting roads down the face of the cliffs, for the purpose of fixing and working them. Thirteen feet had been taken off the top of a cliff, and a platform formed of 80 feet by 60, besides four other platforms for the working of capstans; roads, &c. had been cut, and a zig-zag path down the cliff, which put together, amounted to a mile and-a-half. This ponderous piece of machinery (the cranes when finished were upwards of 40 tons weight), and its launching, erecting, and fixing with cables, and cable-guys, to regulate the ascent and descent of the diving apparatus, was attended with infinite labour and exertion. The idea of staying an immense crane, with from five to nine inch cables, to rocks ninety fathoms asunder, with a complication of other auxiliary cordage and tackle, had in it something grand. In the mean time, however, buoys had been fixed, and a smaller bell had been made, and mounted on one of the largest ship's boats, which enabled them to make observations on the state of the wreck. The Thetis had by this time gone to pieces, and, by the violent commotion of the sea, ❘

their caps

was minutely dispersed. The intrepid divers had thus gone on with unwearied assiduity, buffeting the waves, and removing impediments from below, without success, till the 31st of March, when a signal from the bell-men announced the welcome sight of dollars. Three cheers followed the ascent of the men with full of them, together with some gold. In the course of the first day, 6000 were recovered from the deep; and, not content with their success by day-light, they followed it up, by the use of large torches dispersed in the various boats, till midnight. In the midst of almost incredible obstacles, they proceeded, when the weather permitted, in recovering, from time to time, immense sums of specie and bullion. On one day they took up and, with great exertion, mounted, enabled them to remove rocks to the value of 21,680 dollars. The derrick being now finished, and other encumbrances from the bottom, and so powerful was this machine, that weights of upwards of twelve tons were shifted by it; by it also the great bell was suspended. Their operations were now quite systematic, and conversations by signal with the submerged workmen carried on with great regularity. On the 24th of May, 124,000 dollars were shipped for England.

The derrick, which was of immense use to them, was, by a tremendous storm, rendered a complete wreck, and their next substitute was suspension chains, with a series of cable-guys, which were erected from cliff to cliff, with great toil and difficulty. To notice the perils, the hair-breadth escapes, and the occasional privations, Captain Dickinson and his crew encountered for fourteen months in this service, with the excellent discipline other, would exceed the limits of this short notice. During on the one hand, and cheerful and indefatigable exertion on the that time, no fewer than five diving-bells were constructed, the violence of the sea having rendered some of them useless; airpumps, hose, (which was being continually damaged,) and other requisites, were manufactured; they had blasted thousands of tons of rock, to find proper situations for fastenings, and vast oband extraordinary energy and endurance, at various times they structions at the bottom were removed, by all which contrivances were enabled to transmit to England the immense sum of nearly 600,000 dollars: besides which, the "Algerine," which superseded the "Lightning," recovered a further amount of 161,500, being together of the entire sum lost. £2000 worth of government stores were likewise saved by Capt. Dickinson. By the great pressure of the rocks, some of the treasure formed a hard concrete with the particles of granite, iron nails, fragments of jars, glass bottles, pitch, and paint, and various other materials. It is astonishing that all this was accomplished without the loss of a single life in the diving-bell, or in working the complicated and gigantic tackle; but three persons were drowned from one of the boats during a storm. The climate, however, and the weather, were exceedingly destructive of their health, and at times a considerable portion of them were under the doctor's care. Amongst their other trials, they were subject to almost all the plagues of Egypt.

In their slightly constructed huts they were attacked by myriads of tormentors in the shape of ants, mosquitoes, fleas, and worst of all, "jiggers." The ants attacked everything eatable. The serenade of the mosquito is well known, but it appears the fleas assailed them in numbers beyond the power of any method they could adopt for their destruction, for they were inhabitants of the sand. The jiggers penetrated the skin, and formed painful and troublesome ulcers, especially on the feet, which sometimes produced lameness among half of the crew. Withal, they performed the duties of a most arduous undertaking in a manner which admitted of unqualified praise, and it is a matter of exceeding regret, that any question should have arisen regarding the remuneration for such extraordinary exertions, and such sacrifice of health and comfort. This unfortunately became the subject of protracted litigation. Parties claiming participation in the salvage, who were not within fifty miles at the time, and the underwriters availing themselves of these disputes, affirmed, that being in the king's service, they were entitled to no remuneration whatever. In the Admiralty Court £17,000 was awarded among the whole litigants, amounting to 400; but on an appeal to the judicial committee of the Privy Council by Capt. Dickinson, on behalf of himself and the crew of the “Lightning,” an additional sum of £12,000 was obtained. But for the enterprising spirit and invention of Captain Dickinson, it is not likely that one dollar of the immense sum lost, would ever have been recovered.