him over its head into the water. Fortunately, it used this advantage only to effect its own escape. Captain Scoresby mentions a boat's crew which attacked a bear in the Spitzbergen sea; but the animal having succeeded in climbing the sides of the boat, all the sailors threw themselves for safety into the water, where they hung by the gunwale. The victor entered triumphantly, and took possession of the barge, where it sat quietly, till it was shot by another party. The same writer mentions the ingenious contrivance of a sailor who, being pursued by one of these creatures, threw down successively, his hat, jacket, handkercheif, and every other article in his possession, when the brute, pausing at each, gave the sailor always a certain advantage, and enabled him finally to regain the vessel.

Though the voracity of the bear is such, that he has been known to feed on his own species, yet maternal tenderness is as conspicuous in the female as in other inhabitants of the frozen regions. There is no exertion which she will not make for the supply of her progeny. A she bear, with her two cubs, being pursued by some sailors across a field of ice, and finding that, neither by example, nor by a peculiar voice and action, she could urge them to the requisite speed, applied her paws, and pitched them alternately forward. The lit tle creatures themselves, as she came up, threw themselves before her to receive the impulse, and thus they effected their escape.

Bears are by no means devoid of intelligence. Their schemes for entrapping seals, and other animals on which they feed, often display considerable ingenuity. The manner in which the Polar bear surprises his victim, is thus described by captain Lyon: On seeing his intended prey, he gets quietly into the water, and swims to a leeward position, from whence, by frequent short dives, he silently makes his approaches, and so arranges his distance, that at the last dive, he comes to the spot where the seal is lying. If the poor animal attempts to escape by rolling into the water, he falls into the paws of the bear; if, on the contrary, he hes still, his destroyer makes a powerful spring, kills

him on the ice, and devours him at leisure. Some sailors, endeavoring to catch a bear, placed the noose of a rope under the snow, baited with a piece of whale's flesh. The bear, however, contrived, three successive times, to push the noose aside, and to carry off the bait unhurt. Captain Scoresby had half-tamed two cubs, which used even to walk the deck; but they showed themselves always restless under this confinement, and finally effected their escape.

According to Pennant and other writers, the bear forms chambers in the great ice mountains, where he sleeps the long winter night, undisturbed by the roar of the northern tempest; but this regular hibernation is doubted by many recent observers.

POETRY.

ODE TO THE MOON.

WRITTEN AT MIDNIGHT.
Hail! orb of gentleness, thy silver beams

Bid the thick clouds of darkness take their flight
And to my sight, my wondering sight, displays
The captivating scenery of night;

The wind-god gently skipping through the vale,
The glimmering stars that light thee on thy way

The osiers bending to the pleasant gale,
Exceed, by far, the beauty of the day,

But stay-methinks 'twas on a night like this,
When the blue concave of the heaven above
Was decked with many a star, and thou didst lend
Thine aid, to cheer lone shepherds as they talked
Of ancient kings and prophets long ago
Laid under ground, and looked with joy unto
The day of Jesus' birth,--I say, methinks
'Twas on a night like this, that in the heaven
A light, more brilliant far than noon day saw,
Arose; and a sweet voice was heard, which said,
"Fear not, glad tidings bring I unto you,"
Of joy ecstatic, "for to you this day

Is born a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord."

ADDRESS TO AN INFANT.

Sweet infant, when I gaze on thee,
And mark thy spirit's bounding lightness,
Thy laugh of playful ecstacy,

Thy glance of animated brightness→
How beautiful the light appears

Of Reason in her first revealings,

How blest the boon of opening years,
Unclouded hopes, unwithered feelings!

Thou hast not felt Ambition's thrall,
Thou dost not sigh for absent treasures,
Thy dark eye beams in joy on all,

Simple and ardent are thy pleasures;
And should a tear obscure thy bliss,

I know the spell to soothe thy sadness,
The magic of thy father's kiss

Can soon transform thy grief to gladness.

The world, my fair and frolic boy,

May give thy feelings new directions,
But may its changes ne'er destroy
The fervor of thy warm affections;
Still may thy glad, contented eyes
Smile on each object they are meeting,
Yet, most of earthly blessings, prize

A parent's look,-a parent's greetings!

And, oh! may Ie, whose boundless love
Excels the ken of human blindness,
The wisest Father's care above-

Beyond the fondest mother's kindness-
Teach thy young heart for Him to glow,
Thy ways from sin and sorrow sever,

And guide thy steps in peace below,
To realms where peace endures for ever!

FIRST AND LAST HOURS.

Lov'st thou the hour, the first of day,

When the dewy hours are opening bright,
When through the curtains of morning gray,
Are stealing streaks of crimson light?
Hath it not a power, a spell }

Doth it not to thy warm heart tell
Of life, freak, sparkling, new-born life,
And scenes as yet too young for strife?

Lov'st thou the hour in twilight time,

When every flower is closing round;
When fainter and fainter the bell's chime
Comes with a soothing, dying sound?
Hath it not a spell, though it be
Differing from the first for tee?
Doth it not tell of visions de p,

And a gradual dropping down to sleep?

These hours are types and signs of thine;
Thy first hour brought both smiles and tears
And called forth feelings half divine,

In those who looked to future years,

And watched how grew each feature's mould,
And saw their little buds unfold,

And trusted strife should never come,
To cast on heart and brow a gloom.

And thy last hour-'tis thine to make
It calm as twilight's lovely time;
A blessed sleep, from which to wake,

Will be to the better world to climb;
Remember, 'tis thine, ay thine to choose,
If storms shall take place of stars and dews,
Or if thy spirit shall have a power
To make its parting like day's last hour.

A REFLECTION AT SEA.

BY THOMAS MOORE.

SEE how beneath the moon-beam's smile
Yon little billow heaves its breast,
And foams and sparkles for awhile,
And murmuring then retires to rest,

Thus man, the sport of bliss and care,
Rises on time's eventful sea,
And having swelled a moment there,
He melts into eternity.