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most oppressive]; hot The intense beat, which commenced on the 21st of last month, continued till near the, end of the present month, during which period we generally experienced a dead calm, and a serene and cloudless sky. No rain fell, except a little drizzling on two or three mornings ahout the middle of the month, till the 31st, which was wet throughout, and extremely cold; the thermometer having fallen twenty-five degrees. The average temperature of this month is the highest since July 1808.

September.—The weather during the first week was rather wet and gloomy; it afterwards was fair and brilliant and extremely fine, till the 26th, when the harvest was completely finished in this district. The remaining five days were chiefly wet.

October.—This month was marked by most unseasonable and violent extremes of temperature, and variability of the weather. The three first days were mild and wet; the night of the 4th was cold and sleety; and, on the following morning, we had a smart frost, when all the highest neighbouring mountains ■were covered with snow. It afterwards ■was extremely sultry, with torrents of rain at intervals, till the 14tb. In the night of the 10th the thermometer was as high as 66°. After the 141b the weather was variable, but chiefly fair, with boar frosts at times in the mornings, till the 20th, when, in the night, we had a heavy fall of rain and sleet; and, on the following morning, strong frost, when ice of considerable thickness was observed, and all the surrounding mountains were completely covered with snow. In the night of the 21st a quantity of snow fell; and, on the following morning, all the low grounds in the neighbourhood of this city, and surrounding country, were clothed in white. The remainder of the month was variable, with intervals of intense frost. In the night of the 27th the thermometer was 26°; the next morning 24°; and, on the morning of the 29th, 22°. The difference in the extremes of temperature this month is 44°. In the evening of the 17th, from eight to nine o'clock, a most beautiful luminous arch was seen from this city and neighbourhood: it extended across the heavens nearly in a direct line from west to east; it was remarkably brilliant, particularly in the western horizon, and in the zenith: its breadth appeared to vary from three to five degrees. The northern edge was frequently indented,

and darted very brilliant oorrnscntions. Soon after nine o'clock it gradually disappeared. » November.—The weather was cold, humid, foggy, and extremely unpleasant: it was remarkably calm; and, during the greater part of the month, scarcely a breeze could be observed. Early in the morning of the 6th wc had some extremely vivid lightning and loud peals of thunder, accompanied with heavy showers of large hail. From the 18th till near the end of the month, we had a lingering frost, which, on some mornings, was very severe. On the 22d, 23d, and 25th, the thermometer was as low as 23°, 20°, and 21°. On the 26th a considerable quantity of snow fell, which amounted to about five or six inches in depth: it disappeared on the 29th. The average temperature of this month, 37 °5, is upwards of 11° lower than that of the corresponding month last year.

December.—The first week was very moist and gloomy. On the 8th we had some showers of snow and hail, and in the night frost commenced, which continued, with varied degrees of severity, till the 17th. On the 16th the thermometer was 14°, and the average of that day 20°: during this period snow fell at times which amounted to near two inches in depth. The 17th, and the three following days, were thaw, and extremely mild, with torrents of rain. On the 19th, the thermometer was as high as 53°. The remaining eleven days were continued frost, with intervals of great severity, and accompanied with some heavy falls of snow. In the night of the 26th the thermometer was 15°; and, on the morning of the last day of the year, 13°, noon 17°, and night 3°; average 11°. The average temperature of this month, 32°, is the lowest since January 1814, which was 24°-47. A very great quantity of snow fell on the mountains, and in the surrounding country, in the latter part of the month.

Jan. 2, 1820. W. Pitt.

For the Monthly Magazine.
LETTER from the Levant; by a


Larnicdy Cyprus, slpril 10,1819.
MY DEAR !•••••»,

YOU will be surprised to receive a letter from me at such an immense distance

* For this letter, (says the Editor of the Oxford herald,) we are indebted to a gentleman of this city, who a short time since received it from an old acquaintance.

distance, and out of Europe. If I were to give you an account minutely of this most interesting of all jonrneys that I have taken, I should fill quires of paper. Let me then run over hastily a short account of the countries through which I have passed.

Last August I left London for Paris. From Paris 1 sailed down the Rhone for Marseilles. Hero I embarked for Egypt: was nearly lost in two gales of wind oil' Candy aud Malta. In six weeks I arrived at Alexandria, where I saw Pompey's Pillar, Cleopatra's Needle, the spot on which poor Abercrombie laid down his life, and every object of interest in that celebrated place.

I then crossed the Desert, arrived first at Ahoukir Bay, where Nelson 'ought his great battle; and, after a vcary journey across a desert of sand, I pot safe to Rosctta. When at Alexandria, I was introduced to the Pasha or King of Egypt, a man of remarkable Went

At Rosetta I embarked in the Pashi's barge, and sailed np the Nile; and, afar two days' sail, I arrived at Grand Caro, the capital: where the throng in the streets appeared to me greater than thatin the streets of London.

I 'isited the Pyramids, scrambling in and hrough them; and in the last, opcnel by Signor Bclzoni twelve months ago, an stupendous objects truly.

Aftci remaining here ten days, I sailed down tie west branch of the Nile, and arrived st Damictta, where I was detained a fortiight by stormy weather.

I embarked here, and afterwards landed at Jafli; and as inns, and such like places of accommodation, are totally out of the question, I put up, in the future staget of my journey, at the contents: the (.no here is said to be built on the spot where the house of Simon the fanner stood.

I next proceeded to Ramah, in the neighbourhood of which is the tomb of St. George, tutelar saint of England; and thence to Jerusalem, going along Ihe most frightful path I ever encountered, through rocks and precipices.

I remained a fortnight at this most interesting place; saw every thing of a ■acred nature pointed out; was on the Mount of Olives, Mount Calvary, the Holy Sepulchre, &c.

I went to Bethlehem, saw the Cave f the Nativity; to the famous Cisterns c Solomon; and, after passing Ramah, I

arrived at the Wilderness of St. John the Baptist, and saw his grotto.

The governor of Jerusalem having' given mo a military escort, I proceeded to Jericho, through a wild solitary country ; and at this place the governor gave me an additional strong military escort, with which little army I went to tho banks of the Jordan, and the Lake of Death or Dead Sea,—a water eightyeight miles in length and twenty-five broad, covering Sodom and Gomorrah, •nd other cities. Every thing around shews the terrible judgment of God: a dead terrific silence. Nothing grows on the plain, though Scripture says it was formerly well watered, and called "the Garden of the Land." The water is salt, the bitumen burns, and smells lfke brimstone. No boat was ever seen on it. It is indeed an awful place! But you shall hear more at meeting.

I left Jerusalem finally, and took a northerly direction. I came, after some days' journey, to Bethel, where Jacob took the stones for his pillar.

Afterwards I got to Samaria, and saw the well where Our Saviour had the remarkable conference with the Samaritan woman. On each side of the town, beautifully situated in a valley, stands Mount Ebal and Mount Gcrizim, mentioned in Scripture as the places where Moses commanded benedictions and maledictions to be pronounced.

I next entered the grand Vale of Esdraeton, beyond anything I have seen, called in Scripture the Galilean plain, probably fifty miles long and twentyfive broad; which, from the time of the King of Assyria down to the disastrous journey of Bonaparte from Egypt to Syria, has been the chosen spot for every action respecting the country.

I visited Mount Hermon, at the foot of which stands Nain, a small village, where Our Saviour raised the widow's son to life: two miles from which is Endor, where Saul had the interview "with a woman of familiar spirit."

I arrived at Nazareth; where, you know, Our Saviour was in subjection to his parents. It is a small village on the brow of a hill, looking down on a valley, and has a population of 2,000. Many objects of interest are shewn there.

I then set out to make the tour of Galilee, more remarkable than any other district of the Holy Land, from the frequent visits of Our Saviour. I first arrived ut Cana, "where the C 2 . modest modest water saw its God, and blushed ;" next to the Mountain of Beatitude, named from the excellent sermon Our Lord delivered, "Blessed *re the poor in spirit," &c. Then to the spot called "the Multiplication of Bread," from the miracle which occurred in feeding the multitude with the few loaves and fishes.

Six miles farther on, the Lake of Tiberias, or Sea of Galilee, opened up. I entered the town, which is walled round, and on the edge of the Lake, and could find no other place than an old church to repose in, built on the spot where the house of Peter stood.

The Lake is fourteen miles long and six broad, in a deep hollow territory. I rode to the end of it, where the Jordan (entering the upper part) leaves it; and, what is odd, though the Jordan passes through the Lake, the waters never mingle. I stripped, bathed, and washed my clothes, in the Jordan.

The whole scenery around has something in it religiously solemn and impressive. It was here Our Saviour said to Peter " Follow rae;" where the miraculous draught of fish took place; where he rebuked the winds and waves: where, in short, bo walked on tho very water!

After spending two days here, I proceeded; and, after a day's journey, got to Mount Tabor, where the Transfiguration took plaoe,—a mountain of great altitude; and no pen can describe the grandeur of the scenery. I was on the very top of this mountain. The day was glorious; and I was feasted with the delicious prospect around. The plain of Esdracton is under your feet. Mount Carmel, Mount Hermon, Nain, Endor, Mountains of Samaria: the whole of Galilee, Capernaum, Nazareth, Tiberias, and Mount Lebanon, (like Ben Lomond, in Scotland,) majestically in the back-ground. In the whole globe there is not to be seen, as from this Mount, so much holy ground at one time. Never will the scene be forgotten by me.

I returned to Nazareth; and, after remaining some days, went to Acre, and visited Mount Carmel, about ten miles distant. I went to the top, and saw the spot where the Prophet Elijah resided. The river Kishon, so often alluded to in Scripture, flows along the bottom of this mountain. 'The governor is much respected; he succeeded Diazzar Pasha, one of the greatest Herod 3 or Robetpierres of the

day, who struck off heads, scooped out eyes, and cut off noses, daily, for his amusement. The present minister, who acted in that capacity to him, had his nose cut off, and an eye taken out, for having offended him. Many are the miserable objects still to be seen going along the streets, whom this man disfigured, and whom he usually called the marked men.

I left Acre, and came on to Tyre, keeping close by the sea-side. The prophecy of Scripture is fulfilled, which declares that this placo " shall be as a rock for fishers to spread their nets on." The place is in ruins. Anciently it was a magnificent city, "whose merchants were princes, whose traffickers were the honourable of the earth."

After this I arrived at Sidon, a day's journey distant from Tyre, where I met with much attention from Lady Stanhope, cousin of Mr. Pitt. She is callcl Princess here, and is greatly respected. I do not think she will ever return <o Britain, but end her days at Sidon.

I proceeded; and, after a most tdlsome and exhausting journey o'er chains of mountains for days, and erasing the top of Mount Lebanon, covered with snow, a journey that I rally thought would have got the better of me, I arrived safely at Damascus, the view of which, from the mountaiis descending to it, six miles distant,* most delicious. It is in the centre of 1 plain, boundless to the eye, and encirefcd with gardens to the extent of thirty niles. I know of no views that come rear to it, unless it be those from Shooer's Hill, or Greenwich, near London. There is a population of 400,000. It is almost death to walk about the streets in any other than the Turkish habit, I have been obliged to adopt it e'uring the whole of my route; but the strictness in Damascus, in this respect, is more remarkable than in any other part of the Holy Land. The spot where the vision appeared to the first Apostle, the house of Ananias, and the place he was "let down by the wall in a basket," are shown; and the street called "Straight," (Acts of the Apostles,) still retains that name.

I remained here eight days; and, aft«i another long journey of several days, I arrived at Balbec, to see the famous ruins. At entering the town, which hi! a population of 500, it has the appear ance of one which has been severe); bombarded. The houses arc in mim and have been built like butt, in man*

pars parts of which are the most precious carved stoues, broken eolumns, and inscriptions,—the fragments of the mass of ruins of the grand temple and buildings contiguous.

My eyes never have seen elsewhere, nor I believe ever will see, such magnificent architecture as is to be found on this spot.

The origin of the place has never been distinctly ascertained. One account is, that it was built for Pharaoh's daughter by King Solomon; and it corresponds with the description of the palace given in 1 Kings, chap. vii. ver. 8 and 12. A second is, it was the city celebrated by the Greeks and Latins, utidcr the namo of Heliopolis, or City of the Sun, and denoting by its present Arabic name, Baalbec, that is, the Vale of Baal, its connexion with the worship of the sun; of which Baal, the chief idol deity of the country, was an appropriate denomination.

In its general proportion and form, it is like the church of St. Paul's, Covent Garden; but that is quite insignificant compared with this temple, in point of magnificence, structure, and dimensions. There is a uoble portico, sustained by pillars of the Corinthian order, each fifty feet in height and six feet in diameter.

Nothing can be more august than the view of the entrance. The front is composed of eight Corinthian pillars, and within these, at the distance of six feet, are four others' similar. Through these appear the door of the temple, which is majestic. Its case or portal resembles, in proportion and construction, the great marble portal at the west end of St. Paul's Church, London, but vastly superior in point of beauty and of richness of sculpture. The inside of the church appears to have been divided into three aisles, and lately the infidel Turks blew up with gun powder a superb column and arch, the only one which remained. Contiguous to this grand temple, which, in point of architecture, is said to be without a fault, arc the ruins of a palace of vast extent. Clusters of the finest columns are still remaining, braving the ravages of time. This must have been the residence of some powerful monarch. The stones are so enormous and massy, that one is sometimes really led to think the fabric could not be erected by any human being. In my life never have I seen any tiling like them. For instance, there are three of these lying end to end, which are sixty-one yards, or 183 feet 1

long. One of them sixty-three feet, the depth twelve feet, and breadth twelvo feet; and, what is remarkable, they are raised up into the wall about twenty feet from the ground. Not a foot can bo moved, in going about the town, without stumbling on some precious fragment, beautifully carved.

Here I spent a couple of days; and, after three days' journey, I arrived at Baureuth, took a vessel, and came here, on my way to Antioch and Aleppo; and from which I mean to go to Constantinople, make the tour of Greece, and, if it please God, I hope to be in old England in winter. I have given you a very slight account of my travels in this letter, and I delay all particulars till we meet.

It would take a long summer's day to impart to you (lie hardships I have encountered, the privations I have been forced to submit to, the hair-breadth escapes I have experienced, the horrid savage Arabs I have been among, the difficulties in the languages encountered. I travel with one servant only.

I have a patent letter from Rome that has commanded at the convents all I could desire, and our ambassador at Constantinople has also sent me a firman from the Grand Signior.

In most parts of my journey I have been obliged to take escorts of soldiers, on account of the dangerous state of the countries. The manners are totally at variance with those in Europe, and every thing appears " passing strange" to a traveller, when he first puts his foot in this country.

I have not met with a single Englishman in the whole of my route.

Do remember me kindly to good Mrs.

I******, and the accomplished lady wo

visited at Oxford, whose name I really

forget; and believe me, my dear ]*****»(

Your's truly, W. R.

P. S.—The name of Englishman is highly respected in all the countries I have passed through.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. SIR,

TO trace the harmony of Nature, and the universal analogy of Cause and Effect, is as delightful as satisfactory, when we divest ourselves of the superstitious and legerdemain philosophy, and pursue our enquiries by means of the great landmarks of Motion, as an universal and sole Agent, and Matter as its Patient, by means of which phenomena nomcna of every kind are created and exhibited.

To admit this doctrine, is to open the eyes of the mind: To deny it, is to close them. To feel its truth, is to pos»ess a tiilisman to the secrets of all nature. To exclude it from our perceptions, is to shut ourselves in a sort of twilight on most subjects, and in utter darkness on others. To apply so universal and unerring a principle to philosophy, is like ascending a lofty hill in a picturesque country, and obtaining such a view of the harmonious causes of surprising effects, as in the -valley beneath we acquire of objects but partially seen or invisible. Yet such is the conceit, pride, or folly, of the societies called Learned, which dictate opinions to the great and small Vulgar, that, although this palpable principle of nature has been above two years before the world, we still read in all their transactions and discussions, of their attractions, repulsions, projection, gravitation, vacuum, affinilics, vital principle, caloric, electric &c. fluids, and a score of other similar Jiocus-pocusses, the recognition of which will be adduced, in a future age, as a proof of our infancy in science, and of the ascendancy of tho low superstitions of the monkish ages. They are, in truth, exactly analogous in principle and character to the sympathies, predilections, abhorrences, inherent natures, incantations, exorcisms, &c. &c. of past ages, though, like them, they have not yet been exploded. Let no man, however, lay claim to the title of philosopher, or consistent rcasoner, who admits the former class of superstitions, while he discards the latter.

After all that has been published of the necessary effects on matter resulting from its motions in Aggregates, and from intestine motions in the Atoms of aggregates, it is needless to urge more to real votaries of truth on the elementary principles of these doctrines. It must, in due time, be admitted that all planetary and aggregate phenomena arise from the transfer or participation of aggregate motions; and that all the phenomena of heat, and, consequently, most of the agencies of chemistry, result from atomic motions, variously excited, accumulated, and accelerated.

Other points may be discussed at leisure, as whether any matter exists which is not in some degree potential, or armed with some motion; whether

aggregate motion results from peculiar combinations, concentrations, and transfers of atomic motion, or whether atomic motion is not always caused by the purcussions of aggregates; whether the varieties of atomic motion arc caused by various forms of compounded atoms; whether atomic and aggregate motions are not constantly interchanging, &c. &c.? All which are hypothetical questions worthy of being discussed; but of tho grand universal principle, that all phenomena are caused by the application of various degrees of aggregate or atomic motion to variously constructed matter, variously situated in regard to other matter, there can be no doubt; and no pretence or necessity can exist for further discussion to prove or establish it. No principle of nature was ever adduced by man, at once so new, so comprehensive, and so applicable to every subject of philosophical enquiry ; and in due time, perhaps before this generation has passed away, it must be recognized as the basis of all physical truth; while all existing systems must be regarded |as vague, irrelevant, superstitious, and absurd.

I am led to make these observations by the application of the new doctrines to the phenomena of Animal Existence, a subject which has hitherto been so incomprehensible, and so fruitful in controversy.

The, new system ascertains the following positions:

1. That all animal motion is a transfer of the motions of the earth, or a deflection of the motions of the earth from the earth to the animal.

2. That the terrestrial motion is transferred from the lower to the upper extremities, by action and re-action purely mechanical. •

3. That all animal power is derived from this re-action, and consists in a creator or less quantity of motion deflected from the earth by re-action through the muscular parts of the animal.

4. That.wifhout re-action from the earth, an animal loses all that power which by re-action it derives from the earth.

5- That, without the great motions of the terrestrial mass, there would be no motion to transfer or deflect; consequently, if the earth stood still, there could be no motion to transfer, and all animal locomotion would necessarily cease.

6. That all vitality or vital motions are consequences of the transfer of the atomic motion, always present in the gazeous medium or fluid in which animals live.

7. That the act of respiration necessary to all animal life, is merely a mechanical


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