tity of sweet liquid sap thus provided by nature for the nourishment of some trees, is evident from a general custom in some countries, of tapping the birch in the early part of spring; thus obtaining from each tree a quart or more of liquor, according to its size, which is fermented into a kind of wine. The same method is also practised in hot countries, to procure the favourite liquor of the inhabitants, palm-wine; and a similar custom is observed in the northern parts of America, with regard to the sugar-maple, the juice of which, boiled down, yields a rich sugar, each tree affording about three pounds. This great quantity of nourishment causes the bud to swell, to break through its covering, and to spread into blossoms, or lengthen into a shoot bearing leaves. This is the first process, and properly speaking, is all that belongs to the springing or lengthening of trees; and in many plants, particularly those which are annual, or fall every year, there is no other process; the plant sucks in juices from the earth, and in proportion to the quantity of these juices, increases in size: it spreads out its blossoms, perfects its fruit, and, when the ground is incapable by drought or frost of yielding any more moisture, or when the vessels of the plant are not able to draw it up, the plant perishes. But in trees, though the beginning and end of the first process are exactly similar to what takes place in vegetables, yet there is a second process, which, at the same time that it adds to their bulk, enables them to endure and go on increasing through many

years.

The second process begins soon after the first, in this way. At the base of the foot-stalk of each leaf, a small bud is gradually formed; but the small vessels of the leaf, having exhausted them..

selves in forming the bud, are unable to bring it nearer to maturity: in this state it exactly resembles a seed, containing within it the rudiments of vegetation, but without vessels to nourish and enlarge the seed. Being surrounded, however, by seed in moist earth, it is in a proper sap, like a situation for growing: the influence of the sun sets in motion the juices of the bud and of the seed, and the first operation in both of them is to send down roots to a certain depth into the ground, for the purpose of obtaining the necessary moisture. The bud, accordingly, shoots down its roots upon the inner bark of the tree, till they reach the part covered by the earth. Winter now arriving, the cold and want of moisture, owing to the clogged condition of the vessels, cause the fruit and leaves to fall, so that, except the buds with roots, the remainder of the tree, like an annual plant, is entirely dead: the leaves, the flowers and fruit are gone, and what was the inner bark is no longer in its usual state, while the roots of the buds form a new inner bark; and thus the buds with their roots contain all that remains alive of the whole tree. It is owing to this annual renewing of the inner bark, that the tree increases in bulk; and a new coating being added every year, we are hence furnished with an easy and exact method of finding the age of a tree, by counting the number of circles of which the trunk is composed. A tree, therefore, properly speaking, is rather a bundle of a multitude of annual plants, than an individual which lives for many years. The sap in trees always rises as soon as the frost is abated, and if by any means the sap is prevented from ascending at the proper time, the tree infallibly perishes.

Of all our native birds, none begins to build so

soon as the raven: by the latter end of this month it has generally laid its eggs, and begun to sit.

The farmer is now impatient to begin his work in the fields, as soon as the ground is sufficiently thawed. He ploughs up his fallows, sows beans and peas, rye and spring wheat; sets early potatoes; drains wet lands; dresses and repairs hedges; lops trees, and plants those kinds that require a wet soil, such as poplars, alders, and willows. Picture of the Seasons.

The Pursuit after Fame.

In purple some, and some in rags, stood forth
For reputation. Some displayed a limb
Well-fashioned; some of lowlier mind, a cane
Of curious workmanship and marvellous twist :
In strength some sought it, and in beauty more.
Long, long, the fair one laboured at the glass,
And, being tired, called in auxiliar skill,
To have her sails, before she went abroad,
Full spread and nicely set, to catch the gale
Of praise. And much she caught, and much deserved,
When outward loveliness was index fair

Of purity within: but oft, alas !

The bloom was on the skin alone; and when
She saw, sad sight! the roses on her cheek
Wither, and heard the voice of Fame retire
And die away, she heaved most piteous sighs,
And wept most lamentable tears; and whiles,
In wild delirium, made rash attempt-
Unholy mimicry of Nature's work!-

To recreate, with frail and mortal things,
Her withered face. Attempt how fond and vain!
Her frame itself soon mouldered down to dust;
And in the land of deep forgetfulness,

Her beauty and her name were laid beside

I

Eternal silence and the loathsome worm,

Into whose darkness flattery ventured not;
Where none had ears to hear the voice of Fame.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried;
And awful oft the wickedness they wrought.
To be observed, some scrambled up to thrones,
And sat in vestures dripping wet with gore.
The warrior dipped his sword in blood, and wrote
His name on lands and cities desolate.

The rich bought fields, and houses built, and raised
The monumental piles up to the clouds,

And called them by their names: and, strange to tell!
Rather than be unknown, and pass away
Obscurely to the grave, some, small of soul,
That else had perished unobserved, acquired
Considerable renown by oaths profane;
By jesting boldly with all sacred things;
And uttering fearlessly whate'er occurred;
Wild, blasphemous, perditionable thoughts,
That Satan in them moved; by wiser men
Suppressed, and quickly banished from the mind.

Many the roads they took, the plans they tried.
But all in vain. Who grasped at earthly Fame,
Grasped wind; nay worse, a serpent grasped, that
through

His hand slid smoothly, and was gone; but left
A sting behind which wrought him endless pain.

Pollok.

52. State of Religion during the Middle Ages.

THE period which elapsed between the ninth and the fifteenth century, is chiefly remarkable for ignorance, error, and superstition. The Roman empire had been overwhelmed in the west by the Goths and Vandals, and in the east by the follow

ers of the false Prophet. These incursions, along with the secular character which the Church had assumed, under the reign of Constantine and his successors, in a great measure destroyed the purity of Christianity, and promoted the reign of childish mummery and monkish imposition. Every age was darker than the preceding-the mists of error became thicker and thicker-till the cloud, which was at first only like a man's hand, overspread the whole moral horizon of Europe. Literature, science, taste, were words little in use during the ages which we are contemplating; or, if they occur at any time, eminence in them is ascribed to persons and productions so contemptible, that it appears their true import was little understood. Persons of the highest rank, and in the most eminent stations, could not read or write. Many of the clergy did not understand the breviary which they were obliged daily to recite; some of them could scarcely read it. Charters granted by persons of the highest class are preserved, from which it appears that they could not subscribe their names. Even kings sometimes affixed the sign of the cross, from their ignorance of letters. As late as the fourteenth century, the Constable of France, the greatest man in the state, could neither read nor write. Many dignified ecclesiastics could not subscribe the canons of those councils in which they sat as members. Alfred the Great complained, that from the Humber to the Thames, there was not a priest who understood the liturgy in his mother tongue, or who could translate the easiest piece of Latin. Even the bishops, in general, were so illiterate, that few of them were capable of composing the discourses which they delivered to the people-the greater part of them never attempted it, and were not