thermometer reached eighty-nine degrees, on the 24th day; and in 1825, on the 19th of July it reached the same degree on the scale.

The heat of this month, in the order of Providence, brings to maturity various species of fruit, and gradually ripens the corn; which leads every pious observer of nature to reflect with gratitude on Him

"Who makes the grass the hills adorn,
And clothes the smiling fields with corn,"

that there may be food for man and beast. "Praise the Lord, for he is good; yea, praise him, for his mercy endureth for ever."

The first half of the month.-Song-birds, for the most part, are now mute. The mellow notes of the blackcap and the gardenwarbler are occasionally heard, together with the short and plaintive strain of the yellow-hammer.

The

The different tribes of insects, which were hatched in spring, are now in full vigour; but the plenitude of their enjoyment is limited indeed, for they die at the approach of winter. The grasshopper in the meadows makes its summer noise, which is produced by the insect rubbing its hind-legs against its wings. Bees are still busy among the flowers, laying in their store of provision for the season. Bees are found, in a natural state, in different parts of Asia, occupying cavities in trees, &c. They have many enemies; such as mice and rats, among the mammalia; the swallow, and other insectivorous birds, among the feathered tribes; the wasps and ants, among the insects. They are also subject to many diseases. duration of the life of bees is not known with certainty. Virgil and Pliny have given seven years as the term, and others extend it to ten; but of five hundred bees which Rheumer marked with red varnish, in the month of April, not one was found living in November. By a succession of generations, however, bees have been preserved for twenty-five years. The honey stored up by the bees, is for their supply in winter, or unfavourable weather; and this is more or less exhausted as the winter is mild and open, or the reverse. In severe cold the inhabitants of the hive remain in a state of torpor.

The flowers which blossomed in June now mature their seeds, and begin to decay. A new race succeeds, which requires all the fervid rays of a July sun to bring it to perfection.

Among the principal plants in flower at this time are the damaskrose, (rosa damascena,) tulip-tree, (ciriodendron tulipifera,) yellow lupin, (lupinus flavus,) African marygold, (tagetes erecta,) houseleek, (sempervivum tectorum,) sweet-pea, (lathyrus tingitanus,) the musk-flower, (scabiosa atro-purpur,) and several others, equally interesting.

The second half of the month.-The young of various sorts of the feathered tribe are to be seen, almost everywhere. Rooks and jackdaws, in large companies, find their food on open fields or

downs; retiring to their roosting-places in high woods at the approach of night. In dry weather, when grubs, their natural food, descend into the earth below their reach, they will sometimes betake themselves to fields of corn, and there do considerable damage. Coveys of partridges are, at this time, often met with; and if the young are found before they can fly, they instantly squat motionless; and it is somewhat amusing to see the old one's pretended helplessness in awkwardly fluttering away to beguile the intruder from the place; and with what address she steals in a circuit round to call her young from the too public spot. The sparrow-hawk is often seen rapidly skirting the hedge, or skimming the fields, in quest of young birds. Soon as observed, the swallow gives his shrill signalnote of danger, in which he is joined by the blue titmouse, and some other birds. The swallow, house-martin, and wagtail, pursue the hawk with threatening cries, secure in their superior power of flight, all others escaping, with cries of alarm, to thickets for safety.

Insects, which now sport in the rays of the sun, visit the flowers and tender leaves, or crawl on the ground, are innumerable. By day, the gaudy butterflies add life and variety of colours even to the parterre. Among the most conspicuous are the following:the swallow-tailed papilio machaon, peacock, grand-admiral, orangetip, marble, tortoise-shell, and blue argus. By night, the no less splendid family of moths are on the wing. Rose-beetles are met with in gardens, and the variously-marked ladybirds are almost in every place. The splendid green cicindella flits before us on dry paths, and dragon-flies, on their four transparent and ample wings, are seen hovering over ponds, and banks of rivers.

Flora, with prodigal hand, strews her favours over the earth; and while we gaze abroad, we are led to exclaim, with Milton,

About me round I saw

Hill, dale, and shady wood, and sunny plains,

And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these
Creatures that lived, and moved, and walk'd or flew;
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled
With fragrance; and with joy my heart o'erflow'd."

"A garden," says Dr. Young, "has ever had the praise and affection of the wise. What is requisite to make a wise and happy man but reflection and peace? and both are the natural growth of a garden. Nor is a garden only a promoter of a good man's happiness, but a picture of it also; and, in some sort, shows him to himself. Its culture, order, fruitfulness, and seclusion from the world, compared to the weeds, wildness, and exposure of a common field, is no bad emblem of a good man, compared to the multitude. A garden weeds the mind; it weeds it of worldly thoughts, and sows celestial seeds in their stead. A garden, to the virtuous, is a paradise still extant; here are no objects to inflame the passions, none that are not calculated to instruct the understanding, and better the heart, while they delight the sense."

The admirer of nature's beauties will notice, at this time, the

annual sunflower, (helianthus annus,) snapdragon, (antivetrinum orontium,) and the vast family of lilies: also the tribes of heart'sease, and, among the rest, the delicate flowers of the convolvulus.

BRIEF ASTRONOMICAL NOTICES,
FOR JULY, 1843.

BY MR. WILLIAM ROGERSON, of the Royal Observatory, Greenwich.

"THE omnipresent, everlasting God

Bade the Sun's orb arise from the deep void

Of long-enduring night, and circled it

With clouds of living fire. He also made
The lesser worlds, that in their orbits move
Unerringly around. The' abyss of space

He spread out with his hands, and set thereon
The' innumerable multitude of stars."

THE SUN rises at London on the 1st at forty-nine minutes past three, and sets at seventeen minutes after eight: on the same day he rises at Edinburgh at twenty-one minutes past three, and sets at forty-six minutes after eight. On the 20th, the Sun rises at London at eight minutes past four, and sets at four minutes after eight: on the same day he rises at Edinburgh at forty-four minutes past three, and sets at twenty-seven minutes after eight.

"In robes of light array'd, the glorious orb
From his celestial chamber issues forth,
Gilding the clouds, and round his orient path
Effulgent glories spreading. Hill and dale,
And tower and tree, his golden beams reflect;
Along the flowery meads, in sinuous course,
The dimpled waters sparkle in his beams,

And every bush with dewy gems is hung."

On the 1st of this month the Sun is in apogee; or, more strictly, the Earth is in aphelion, being that part of its orbit where it attains its greatest distance from the Sun. At this period the Earth's motion is slowest, and the Sun's apparent diameter at its minimum. In astronomical theory it is usual and convenient to speak of the Sun as the moving body, from which no possible mistake can arise; for in whatever direction the Sun is apparently moving, and with whatever apparent velocity, the Earth is actually moving in the opposite direction, and with a corresponding velocity; in other words, the Earth moves round the Sun; but an observer sees the Sun to move, and to describe a curve similar to that which the Earth would be seen to pursue, by an observer transferred to the Sun.

The MOON sets on the 1st at ten o'clock, and on the 3d at twenty minutes before eleven, at night: on the 4th she is half-full, at three minutes past seven in the evening, and sets on the 6th about ten

minutes before midnight: she is due south on the 7th at half-past eight, and on the 9th at half-past ten, at night. The Moon is full on the 11th, at six minutes past five in the evening, and exhibits her silvery orb in the eastern horizon on the 12th at half an hour past eight in the evening: she rises on the 14th at ten minutes past nine, and on the 16th at a quarter before ten, at night. The Moon enters on her last quarter on the 19th, at forty minutes past one in the afternoon, and rises on the 21st at half an hour before midnight: she rises on the 24th at one o'clock; and changes on the 27th, at forty-two minutes past five in the morning: she exhibits her fine crescent near the western horizon on the 31st, after sunset, and descends from our view soon after nine o'clock.

MERCURY is visible in the mornings about the middle of the month he rises on the 11th at forty-two minutes past two, on the 16th at forty-one minutes, and on the 21st at forty-nine minutes, past two.

VENUS is to be seen near the eastern horizon about an hour before the Sun rises: she is near Mercury about the 16th, and in the neighbourhood of the crescent Moon on the 25th. This beautiful planet rises on the 2d at a quarter past two, and on the 27th at twenty minutes before three.

MARS exhibits his red disc very near the bright star in Scorpio, called Antares: he is a somewhat striking object every clear evening. He is due south (low in the skies) on the 1st at a quarter before ten o'clock, on the 16th about an hour earlier; and on the 26th he passes the meridian, or is due south, at ten minutes after eight. On the 8th Mars is in conjunction with the Moon.

JUPITER rises on the 1st at half-past ten at night, and on the 27th at a quarter before nine: on the 14th he is near the Moon. The youthful inquirer after astronomical objects will find no difficulty in distinguishing this planet from surrounding stars, his superior brilliancy rendering him so conspicuous. Through a good telescope his belts and four moons at this time appear sublime and interesting.

SATURN passes the meridian on the 1st at one o'clock in the morning, and on the 11th at twenty minutes past twelve at night: on the 27th he souths at a quarter past eleven at night. Saturn is in conjunction with the Moon on the 11th. This planet, with his wonderful ring, is now favourably situated for telescopic observation.

Those persons who wish to mark the places of these three superior planets on a celestial globe, will readily accomplish their desire by attending to the following :-July 16th, right ascension of Mars, 16 h. 19 m., declination south, 25o 19', in the 7th degree of Sagittarius, close to Antares. On the same day, right ascension of Saturn, 19 h. 37 m., declination south, 21° 36', in the 22d degree of Capricorn. Right ascension of Jupiter, at the same time, 21 h. 55 m., declination south, 13° 48', in the 26th degree of Aquarius.

JUVENILE OBITUARY.

DIED, December 4th, 1840, at Watergate, near Ampleforth, in the Easingwold Circuit, Jane, the beloved daughter of Mr. Coverdale, in the twenty-fifth year of her age. She was convinced of her sinful state, under the ministry of the Rev. Messrs. Jones and Hindson, and joined the Wesleyan society in June, 1833: she did not, however, receive a clear sense of the pardon of sin till the 16th of May following. Her joy on this occasion was indeed great, and the change she had experienced was visible to all around her. She had previously suffered much mental agony on account of her sins; and during her last affliction frequently said, that if she had then had her heavy load to bear, she must have sunk under it in complete despair. Her amiable disposition endeared her to all her relations and friends; and her deep piety and devotedness to God rendered her a striking pattern of gentleness, meekness, patience, and humility. She sincerely loved the cause of God, and while circumstances would permit, was actively employed in collecting for Wesleyan Missions, distributing tracts, and visiting the poor and afflicted. She was likewise punctual in her attendance on the various means of grace. Her great humility often caused her to lament her slow advancement in the divine life, while at the same time a growth in grace was evident to all her Christian friends. She had her regular hours for secret devotion, and many were the precious seasons she enjoyed in her closet. The affliction which terminated in her death, commenced in the latter part of November, 1839; but though it was protracted, she was enabled to bear it with exemplary patience. When asked if the Lord continued to support her, her answers generally were, "O yes; the Lord helps and blesses me, so that I can and do trust in him." Having no expectation of recovering, she surrendered herself into his hands, in entire submission to his will, resting fully on the atonement of Christ. Towards the close of her life, she was occasionally "buffeted" by the enemy of her soul; but she firmly relied on the sure word of promise. She said, "I build all on the blood of Jesus; nothing but the precious blood of Jesus. I will cling to his cross; that is my place." And her faith was delightfully victorious. The day before she died, her mind was remarkably serene. The Clergyman visited her, as he had often kindly done before, and asked her if she had any distinct evidence that she was the Lord's, and if she had any fear of death. She replied, "I feel happy in the love of Christ; I can rejoice in the God of my salvation; I have no fear of death." He prayed with her, and she earnestly responded to his petitions. During the night she was several times heard to say, "Come, Lord Jesus. If it be thy will, suffer me to. come to thee." Not long before she died, she said, with solemn yet happy emphasis, "The blood of Jesus cleanseth from all sin." About half-past seven in the morning, she gently waved first one hand, and then the other, in token of victory, and then almost imperceptibly ceased to breathe. WILLIAM CARLTON.