Before that catastrophe, the face of the earth was a picture of Heaven. It was not disfigured by arid wastes and sandy deserts; nor did it produce poisonous plants, noxious vapors and deadly serpents. The destructive sirocco, the sweeping tempest and the desolating flood never would have laid whole countries in ruin, if sin had not first obtruded its baleful influence. "Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life. Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee."Gen. 3: 17, 18.

The earth with its canopy, heaven, was once a magnificent temple, dedicated to the worship of Heaven's King. But now its loftiest pillars are fallen down and its costliest ornaments are mouldering in heaps of ruin. Once it was a golden harp, upon whose thousand strings were celebrated the Creator's praise. But now its empyrean music is mingled with harsh grating discord, and the wail of suffering millions.

Nature, in its pristine glory, was a book of luminous pages and of embroidered finish. But now its best chapters are blotted out, and its beautiful leaves are scattered to the winds.

Before the fall, it was a garden of the Lord, upon whose variegated foliage were painted in celestial colors, His skill and goodness. But now, alas! the chilling frosts and wintry winds have. cut down the Rose of Sharon and the Tree of Paradise.

In other words, the works of Nature, though clearly setting forth some of the Divine attributes, do not furnish us with a complete system of divinity. The material universe being deranged, and our own mental perceptions being blunted by the effects of sin, we cannot "find out" God-without the aid of direct revelation-to a degree sufficient for our necessities.

I remark again :

The Office of Natural Religion differs from that of Revealed Religion.

The former points out certain natural characteristics of the Deity, and teaches, dimly, some moral lessons; but the latter has a far more extended field. This distinction should be kept in mind, lest we look into Nature for the explanation of matters which the Bible only explains. For instance, the works of Nature do not unfold to us the doctrine of the Trinity, nor the plan of Redemption. Nor, on the other hand, should we expect to find in the Bible a system of botany, or of astronomy; for it was not designed as a text-book on the sciences, but a compilation of moral precepts and religious instructions. And if Nature sometimes speaks upon topics respecting which the Scriptures are silent, or if the Scriptures affirm things of which Nature says nothing, there is no disagreement between the two witnesses; they both harmonize when they testify to the same facts.

Each has its appropriate department. For scientific information we should read the volume of Nature; for an acquaintance with the doctrines of grace we should consult the Holy Oracle. On no points do these remarkable books differ-in all things they unite in the exclamation-" O Lord how manifold are thy works! In wisdom hast thou made them all!"-Psalm 104: 24.

Original.

TO A BIRD AT SEA.

BY REV. CHARLES W. DENISON.

COME to my breast, lone rover of the deep,
Come nestle here above my beating heart,
Within my bosom's folds lie down and sleep,
Nor from my warm embraces strive to part.

Thy little form is chilled-thou'rt shivering now
Before the early morning's ocean blast,
It drives thee flutt'ring from the spray-wet bow,
And whirls thee downward from the bending mast.

Thou'rt hungry, too, and hopping weakly round
From plank to rail, thou passest o'er the deck,
Thy cries for food amid the sea-winds sound,
Ás thou dost ope thy dripping bill to peck.

Thou comest to me gently, and thine eyes
Upturn a glance of confidence and care.
See here, poor bird! my welcome vesture lies
All open for thee now to shelter there.

The land is far away. Long miles of flight
Await thee, ere thou'lt drop upon the shore;
The sun will soon be gone-and in the night
The ocean gale may stun thee with its roar.

Thou may'st not reach thy distant hills again,
But wet and way-worn, mid the misty cloud,
Perhaps thou'lt sing and die upon the main,

Its moan thy dirge, its foamy wave thy shroud.

And thou art all alone. Companion, friend,

Thou hast not in this lonely waste of waves:
Tell me, young wandeici: whither dost thou tend?
Hast thou no home-no cherished kindred graves?

Wouldst thou not find again thy hillock nest,
Thy hovered eyrie on the birth-place tree ?
This rocking ship must give a bird strange rest,
Tossed on the billows of the stormy sea.

Come to my bosom then. The cabin fire
Shall dry and warm thee by my friendly berth;
And when we reach the haven we desire,
Thou shalt go forth, all free, to dwell on earth.

Original.

THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM.

BY JOHN B. NEWMAN, M. D.,

(Popular Lecturer on the Institutes of Medicine.)

It was remarked by a philosopher, some years ago, that it was scarcely possible to tell the difference between a dog and a rose. This statement, to the greater number of my readers who have not reflected on the subject, will appear hardly probable. Anecdotes of the sagacity and faithfulness of dogs are known to all; and I doubt not many of them in our city are possessed of more knowledge and practical information, and are better members of society, than the swarms of idle and vicious youth who crowd our streets. How then, with such facts before him, could Boret make such an assertion? I will tell you. Our ideas of the intelligence of animals are derived from the proofs of design we see them exhibit. Having a certain end in view, they will choose, with the most astonishing discrimination, out of a number of means, the ones best adapted to their purposes, and contrive to use these in such a way as to be almost uniformly successful. Natural history is made up of facts in support of this position. Our next inquiry will be to find out whether plants ever show such instances of choice and foresight; and a little examination will prove that most unquestionably they do.

Strawberries planted on moist grounds give out no runners; but, on placing them in a dry soil with water at some distance, we find runners travelling around until they discover it, and then remaining a living aqueduct to supply the plant. If these runners are moved round to the other side, they will soon regain their original position with unerring certainty. If you turn the under surface of a rose leaf upwards, it will in a little while commence a return movement, gently twisting with a kind of effort on its peduncle, as on a sort of pivot. The Abbá Marten transplanted a rose tree

from one part of his garden to another for the purpose of experiment. To the right of the new position, the soil was hard, dry, and sterile; to the left, moist, rich, and tender. The roots at first radiated alike to the right and left. But he soon discovered that the roots which had advanced to the right, bent backward toward the fertile and mellow earth, as if divining that their companions at the left had found better pasture. To prevent their intercepting nourishment intended for other plants, I dug a ditch to stop the farther advancement of the roots. Arrived at the ditch, they plunged perpendicularly below its bottom, ran around, and advanced anew toward the point whence they had discovered the rich soil. Instances of their foresight in guarding against excessive heat, wind, and rain, are equally numerous. In France, the peasants train the carbine by their doors to serve as a barometer, its open flowers show clear weather, but closed, an abundance of rain. The shepherd's weatherglass has the same property, if it does not show its face to greet the sun on his ascension, the sheep remain in the fold on that day. The four-o'clock opens its flowers regularly every afternoon at that hour, to show the laborer that if he cannot afford a watch, Nature will provide him with the means of knowing the hour without expense. Such examples certainly prove a faculty of judging according to the sense in plants. And now the inquirer asks, what is the nature of this principle, and in what does it differ from chemical affinity or attraction? A perfect exemplification of this difference is given the history of its creation. And God made every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field before it grew. Dry land and seas by this time were divided, and the forces of the inorganic world in full operation. These forces are called the pullers-down of Nature. Exposed to their influence, mountain and hill crumble into dust; and it is owing to their agency that volcanoes and earthquakes destroy cities and swallow up nations. This is due probably to the shape of the ultimate atoms, which fitting into each other in different ways, occasion perpetual change. But on the third day, a controlling influence, a new set of powers, the builders of Nature, appears. Created in kind and degree different from matter, yet only manifesting their presence to us in connection with it. So far from allowing these atoms to unite according to their affinities, which would soon destroy nature, they exercise the most despotic sway, controlling them to the last. The chemical forces are in perfect subjection while life remains; but the moment it departs, and dust returns to dust, the work of destruction begins and the body vanishes into air. A beautiful example of this opposition is shown by seeds, which are the simplest independent forms of the union of the life-power with matter. Take two of these, and having destroyed the vitality of one of them by passing an electric spark through it, place both in

warm and moist earth. The dead seed surrounded by all the conditions favorable to its decomposition, is speedily resolved into its native elements, while the living one makes slaves of its enemies, rapidly sprouts up amid the surrounding desolations, and hangs out its flowery banners, as tokens of victory. Seeds retain life, almost any length of time. I noticed this week an account of an abundant harvest reaped from the growth of seeds found in an Egyptian mummy, over two thousand years old. A seed finding itself in a warm moist place, suddenly becomes aware that it has work to do, and sets about it without delay. The seed case bursts, a stalk and leaves appear above, while the root, sending off filaments, remains below; at the end of each of these little filaments is a spongiole, or bundle of leech-like mouths. These suck from the soil whatever they require, and then act the part of a stomach in instantly digesting it. A series of ascending vessels or veins are ready to carry it to the leaves to be further elaborated; when it arrives there, its oxygen is given off, and a supply of carbonic acid obtained from the air, is combined with it; and the pure blood or sap is carried by the arteries to every part to supply its necessities and form compounds.

Plants are manufacturing establishments; soon make the essential oils, as the cinnaamon, sassafras and rose; other salts, as the sorrel, oxalic acid; the bark-tree, quinine; and the willow, salaxy; many a despised shrub has properties more deadly and dangerous than a powder magazine; the laurel and peach yields prussic acid, one drop of which will destroy life; and travellers tell us that the atmosphere of the upas is fatal for miles around it.

The vital principle of each plant being separate and independent in itself, explains the reason why two of them, the one a virulent poison, the other a table vegetable, will grow side by side, and draw their nourishment from the same source. It also shows the error of our modern agriculturists, who treat these living existences endowed with a power of choice and foresight as if they were tubes imbibing whatever was placed near them by capillary attraction.

Man resembles a torch, in requiring oxygen to keep him burning or alive; in return for this he throws out carbonic acid, which is to him a virulent poison. Now what prevents this gas accumulating in the air and destroying the animal kingdom; and from what source shall the supply of oxygen be derived to answer our continual demand? Only from the respiration of plants; which we man now see not only supplies us with food but are absolutely necessary for our daily existence.

When the new Custom House and Merchant's Exchange were erecting, they were the daily resort of thousands who flocked to witness their gradual progress; Yet how much more wonderful is the building of a vegetable palace! unseen workmen are urging it forward with untiring industry; column after column forms;