into the body of dense vapor, and that it explodes the moment they come in contact. Any other conclusion adduced from these facts, I should certainly conceive to be erroneous. My full persuasion therefore is, that this is the natural and true operation of the elements. It agrees with those simple movements which are known to characterize nature wherever they are understood; that this operation too is as wise and useful as it is sublime and beautiful; and, in my judgment, the electric property neither is nor can be produced from any other possible source.

The utility of these movements has been already explained:* and the indispensable necessity there would seem to be for such operations during the oppressive and sultry season of the year, with numerous other circumstances, all combine to show, that the economy of nature actually requires such an agency; that without it her benign intentions would in a great measure be frustrated, and the grandeur and majesty of her works deprived of much of their imposing and interesting scenery, as well as of some of their noblest and most useful purposes.

THEORY OF WEST AND NORTH-WEST WINDS.

I PROCEED to offer a few remarks by way of a Theory of West and North-West Winds. These are the most generally prevailing winds that we have, and ordinarily they are much the fiercest. That these winds originate from a quarter totally different from what has been the general supposition, is sufficiently clear to my understanding; and that they do not come from the distant western or north-western regions, is susceptible of abundant proof.

It is a fact not sufficiently adverted to, or perhaps not generally known, that west of the mountains the prevalence of boisterous winds is extremely rare. A residence of several years in the state of Ohio enables me to speak confidently on this subject. Boisterous winds are of unusual occurrence in that country; and furious gales from the north-west are almost unknown, after getting beyond the great dividing ridges. It is beyond all question true, that in most cases during the prevalence of those strong winds in the Atlantic states, the atmosphere in the great Ohio valley, and between that and the lakes, and even onward west to the Mississippi, remains unmoved. The currents of air in that quarter generally move in a different direction. The prevailing wind there is known to come from the south-west; though north-east winds are not unfrequent. Both are almost always comparatively gentle; and this is not only the common character of the winds in that country, but it may be easily ascertained, that such is the usual state of the atmosphere in that region, during the movements of the fiercest western gales on the Atlantic coast, and east of the mountains.

Then how and by what means are those boisterous and piercing winds engendered, and from what region do they proceed? This leads me to the purpose which was before me, and on which I propose to offer my opinions.

I have already had occasion to remark upon the action of vertical currents, and have expressed my entire conviction of their existence and constant agency. In my opinion the arguments adduced are of sufficient weight to entitle the hypothesis to full confidence. And I now say, that not only do I feel the most perfect persuasion of its correctness, but that herein consists the grand source of all the great and important changes which so frequently occur in the state of our atmosphere. Their first movements I hold to be invariably vertical; but before they reach the earth, they take a direction toward the Atlantic, and move with a strength and velocity proportioned to the exciting cause. This cause is the great accumulation and ceaseless influence of heat in the Gulf of Mexico, the Carribean sea, the coasts of North and South America, and the whole group of West India islands. When it has become sufficiently predominant, and has spread over a large portion of sea and the contiguous lands, its influence is strongly felt upon our continent, and extends back to the great western ridges. The air immediately rushes from the higher regions toward the earth, but soon moves off with a mighty force in a direct line to the ocean. When a vacuum, or something like it — which the operations of nature in her wise economy may have produced is supplied, and that equilibrium restored which seems to be required to preserve an equal ascendancy among the elements, the effect immediately ceases with the cause. In every instance, and I think under all circumstances, the accumulation of heat upon the sea-coast, and in the warm latitudes, begets these effects; and that the air should first proceed from those cold regions contiguous to lofty mountains, is a conclusion that seems both reasonable and natural, and in my opinion is sufficiently warranted by every movement and indication within the compass of our observation. It is consonant to all the known operations of nature, and therefore may safely be admitted as correct doctrine.

I deem it not improper here to record a fact to which I was myself a witness, and which confirmed me in my opinion of this theory. On my passage over the mountains, which was in the month of November, my attention was suddenly arrested, when at the foot of the North or Cove Mountain, about seventeen miles from Chambersburg, by a furious rush of the wind. I was led to take notice of it from its singular operation. The limbs of the trees were pressed suddenly and strongly toward the ground, and some were made almost to touch it. I could not discredit my own senses; and therefore never doubted that it was a powerful current from the higher regions.

If then my arguments are admitted to be reasonable, and my deductions fair, we cannot be at a loss to account for the phenomena of frequent tempests, and fierce and piercing winds. In every point of view, it would appear to be a wise provision, that the first movements of currents of air should be vertical. The beneficence of nature is here made very apparent; for these currents proceed from a perfectly pure source; are consequently in the highest degree salubrious; they spread over a less extent of surface, and in their course therefore occasion less mischief.

This subject may be farther illustrated, by a reference to the influ

ence of heat during the warm season. For some time before the summer solstice, and for a considerable period afterward, a west or north-west wind is a rare occurrence, except during the operation and immediately after a thunder-storm. For this, an obvious and satisfactory reason presents itself. Our continent at this season is subject to as high a degree of heat as prevails in the West India seas and islands; there exists consequently no exciting cause for the movements of those strong winds, which frequently rush with such force toward the ocean. On the contrary, it would appear that an exciting cause of sufficient strength does really exist, for producing a brisk current from a directly opposite course. The south wind becomes the prevailing one; and this effect necessarily results from the greater accumulation of heat on the continent than on the ocean. It generally continues, as we well know, during most of the hot seabut it may be remarked, that it almost always lulls as the sun declines. It would therefore seem, that the instant the strength of the heat is diminished, the exciting cause fails, and the current ceases. So that whether the heat predominates in a northern or more southern latitude, the real effect is the same, varying only according to the degree and duration of the excitement. These facts, in my opinion, come strongly in aid of my hypothesis, and show incontestably the resistless energy of the great ruling power in our system.

son;

That these operations are the effect of a universal law, may be easily believed, if we are to believe the agency of heat is supreme, and that it is every where the exciting cause of action in all the other elements. That it is the sole and prime instrument of every change and movement among them, and the spring of all action through every channel and ramification of nature, I presume no one will undertake to controvert.

LINES

ON A SHIP'S CREW WHO BORE THE NAMES OF ELEVEN EMINENT DIVINES.

IN life's unsettled, sad career,
What changes every day appear,

To please or plague the eye!
Men bearing names of pious priests,
Here in this ship are swearing beasts,
That heaven and hell defy.

Here BONNER, bruised with many a knock,
Has changed the surplice for a frock,
While ERSKINE Swabs the decks;
And WATTS, a name that pleasure took
In writing hymns, is here a cook -
Sinners he does not vex.

Here BURNET, TILLOTSON, and BLAIR,
With HERVEY, how they curse and swear,
While CUDWORTH mixes grog!
PEARSON the crew to dinner hails,
A graceless SHERLOCK trims the sails,
And BUNYAN heaves the log!

SHAKSPEARE'S SEVEN AGES.

INTRODUCTION,

SHAKSPEARE is in every body's mouth, not because it is Shakspeare, but because it is nature and truth. How often do his divine counsels find entrance to our minds, by the way, in the ball-room, at the theatre, on 'change, from the pulpit, and in our own homes, coming with strange troublings of spirit; waking in us the soul; making us feel that there is a world of thought, a capacity for enjoyment and suffering, in our own bosoms, as yet unrevealed distinctly to ourselves. If it be true (and who doubts it ?) that that mind which is fastened to the earth, and spent in ministering to a perishable body, is, at some time, to expand and unfold angelic powers to be independent of time and space. a pure spirit; to have to do with God himself, if not face to face, yet nearly and sensibly then these master geniuses, themselves in chains, though freer than the rest, exciting in us, by their charméd words, strong emotion, vague aspiration, and intense desire, for something higher and purer than earth affords, are engaged in as true a work, as be who subserves our commonest necessity: and we have no more right to question the reality and naturalness of the sentiments we feel, and to call them mere vagaries of the imagination, than we have to doubt the sincerity of those tears that fall upon the grave of a bosom friend.

It is the gift of some men to have a singular power over the human mind. And it is a fact, that this power does not depend upon moral worth, nor philosophical acuteness; it does not depend upon the acquisitions of learning, nor the subtlety of science. It is a different power from the revolutionizing acumen of a Bacon; it is not just

means.

sentiment, and taste, and feeling, never so refined, such as prompted the writings of Alison, and Goldsmith, and Burns. It is, in a manner, born to a man. It is the influence Shakspeare exerts, more and more, as the world grows wiser, and comes to see more clearly what he Byron once possessed this power for a season, but that age has passed. Wordsworth and Carlyle have small German principalities under their sway. Scott, after all that has been said, never ruled in those high courts of the intellect, where men never appear in boots; in short, he lacks spirituality and refinement. None but the bard of Avon ever bore wide and extended rule.' The reason of this is not so much on account of the newness and beauty of his precepts and conclusions, ('queer terms in which to talk of Shakspeare,' says the reader; 'one would think the writer was criticizing a sermon;') as because they are adapted to our wants, and seem to be the echo of our own experience. Shakspeare is the universal mirror in which any man can see himself. There he may find the riddle of his own life unravelled; there too, for the first time, he is aware of his own motives; and after living somewhat, and being ready to exclaim, 'Life seems to me to be a great farce,' he turns to Shakspeare, and finds written:

All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women merely players.'

Whatever the subject, Shakspeare has anticipated all that can be said. If we can quote him aptly, we consider the argument our own. Whether in a sermon or at a supper, by our fireside or in the halls of debate, to weave in Shakspeare, is to gain applause. In a few words he says more than other men say in large volumes; and his wisdom seems more like inspiration than the result of thought. He is a sound jurist, a profound statesman, abounding in wit, of superior taste in dress, behavior, and cookery; and he is all this, without wearing a wig, or living at court; without being a dandy, a flatterer, or a glutton.

In the twenty-eight lines put into the mouth of the melancholy Jaques,' the two first of which we have just quoted, it seems that a little book was intended to be written. It has preface, chapter and verse. The hero, man, is introduced, according to the best models, in his nurse's arms,' and made to describe a complete circle above ground, even to 'second childishness' whereas some writers are content to give us a mere arc of a man. But nothing can be more perfect in its kind than our subject; and we look in vain, in the whole range of the plays, for a speaker better worthy than the quaint Jaques to be the utterer of so great a work. Without appearing to be aware that he is saying 'immortal words,' without any apparent effort at condensation, governed by the perfect balancing of expression to thought, he is touched to produce fine issues, and says what will always be read, if for no other reason, because it is a whole, and a short and true one.

This character, who met a fool i' the forest,' from whom he extracted so much wisdom, seems himself to be a kind of higher fool,' if we judge from the sageness of his remarks, and the privilege of his tongue. He appears to be the favorite of his author, and has the