EXTRACTS FROM NICHOL'S PLANETARY SYSTEMS. 135

pleasing variety, is in the inclination of the axis around which the Earth daily rotates to the path or orbit through which it moves annually. The inclination of the axis, to the orbit, causes, the Sun's rays to fall more or less directly on the same part of the Earth, in different parts of its orbit, and hence, the variety of their heating effects. How exquisite the adjustment of our world to such variety! Think of the action of winter as a season of sleep and refreshment to vegetation,-the bursting of its dormant powers in spring,-its manhood and health in summer, and in gentle autumn, the time of the sere and yellow leaf! Though observation informs us that there are spheres in which little of this change is seen, and where doubtless, all arrangements are equally beautiful; we may be pardoned for contemplating with especial interest so much of the course of our own world, and permit our sympathies to flow freely with the poet, who thus opens his fervent, but somewhat pantheistic hymn :

"These as they change, Almighty Father,

These are but the varied God!"

On matters of this kind, men feel variously; I confess that to me the sight of such exquisite adaptation-an adaptation of phenomena mighty and minute, affecting as the seasons do, although mysteriously, not only the death but the birth of human and all animated beings-it does appear that such precision of workmanship and steadfast solemnity of march, are as strong and eloquent proofs of the presence of the Godhead, as those deviations from ordinary agencies which, in the course of providence, the Almighty has thought fit to produce; and that with a far loftier and more intelligent ardour than that of the Egyptian magician, we may exclaim, as we humbly contemplate, "The finger of God is there."

Niagara.

FROM THE SPANISH OF JOSE MARIA HEREDIA.

Mr lyre! give me my lyre! my bosom feels
The glow of inspiration! Oh, how long
Have I been left in darkness, since this light
Last visited my brow! Niagara!

Thou, with thy rushing waters, dost restore
The heavenly gift that sorrow took away.
Tremendous torrent! for an instant hush
The terrors of thy voice, and cast aside
Those wide involving shadows, that my eyes
May see the fearful beauty of thy face.
I am not all unworthy of thy sight,
For, from my very boyhood, have I lov'd,
Shunning the meaner track of common minds,
To look on Nature in her loftier moods.
At the fierce rushing of the hurricane,

At the near bursting of the thunderbolt,

I have been touched with joy; and when the sea, Lashed by the wind, hath rock'd my bark, and showed Its yawning caves beneath me, I have loved.

Its dangers, and the wrath of elements.

But never yet the madness of the sea

Hath moved me, as thy grandeur moves me now.

Thou flowest on in quiet, till thy waves
Grow broken midst the rocks; thy current then
Shoots onward, like the irresistible course

e!

Of destiny. Ah, terribly they rage

The hoarse and rapid whirlpools there! My brain Grows wild, my senses wander, as I gaze

NIAGARA.

Upon the hurrying waters, and my sight
Vainly would follow, as toward the verge
Sweeps the wide torrent-waves innumerable
Meet there and madden-waves innumerable
Urge on, and overtake the waves before,
And disappear in thunder and in foam.

They reach they leap the barrier-the abyss
Swallows, insatiable, the sinking waves.

A thousand rainbows arch them, and the woods
Are deafened with the roar. The violent shock
Shatters to vapour the descending sheets.
A cloudy whirlwind fills the gulf, and heaves
The mighty pyramid of circling mist
To Heaven. The solitary hunter near,
Pauses with terror, in the forest shades.

What seeks my restless eye? Why are not here,
About the jaws of this abyss, the palms?
Ah! the delicious palms, that on the plains
Of my own native Cuba spring, and spread
Their thickly foliaged summits to the sun;
And in the breathings of the ocean air,

Wave soft beneath the Heaven's unspotted blue.

But no, Niagara, thy forest pines
Are fitter coronal for thee. The palm,
The effeminate myrtle and pale rose, may grow
In gardens, and give out their fragrance there,
Unmanning him who breathes it: thine it is
To do a nobler office. Generous minds
Behold thee and are moved, and learn to rise
Above earth's frivolous pleasures; they partake
Thy grandeur, at the utterance of thy name.

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God of all truth! in other lands I've seen
Lying philosophers, blaspheming men,
Questioners of thy mysteries; that draw
Their fellows deep into impiety;

And, therefore, doth my spirit seek thy face
In earth's majestic solitudes. Even here,
My heart doth open all itself to thee.
In this immensity of loneliness,

I feel thy hand upon me. To my ear,
The eternal thunder of the cataract brings
Thy voice, and I am humbled as I hear.

Dread torrent! that with wonder and with fear
Dost overwhelm the soul of him that looks
Upon thee, and dost bear it from itself,

Whence hast thou thy beginning? Who supplies,
Age after age, thy unexhausted springs?

What power hath ordered, that, when all thy weight
Descends into the deep, the swollen waves
Rise not, and roll to overwhelm the earth?

The Lord hath opened his omnipotent hand,
Covered thy face with clouds, and given his voice
To thy down rushing waters; he hath girt
Thy terrible forehead with his radiant bow.
I see thy never resting waters run,

And I bethink me how the tide of time
Sweeps to eternity. So pass, of man-

Pass, like a noon-day dream-the blossoming days,
And he awakes to sorrow. I, alas!

Feel that my youth is withered, and my brow
Ploughed early with the lines of grief and care.

Che Object of Life.

BY JOHN TODD.

How many beautiful visions pass before the mind in a single day, when the reins are thrown loose, and fancy feels no restraints! How curious, interesting and instructive would be the history of the workings of a single mind for a day! How many imaginary joys, how many airy castles, pass before it, which a single jostle of this rough world at once destroys! Who is there of my readers who has not imagined a summer fairer than ever bloomed,-scenery in nature more perfect than was ever combined by the pencil,-abodes more beautiful than were ever reared,―honours more distinguished than were ever bestowed,-homes more peaceful than were ever enjoyed,-companions more angelic than ever walked this earth,--and bliss more complete, and joys more thrilling than were ever allotted to man? You may call these the dreams of imagination, but they are common to the student. To the man who lives for this world alone, these visions of bliss, poor as they are, are all that ever come. But good men have their anticipations.--not the paintings of fancy, but the realities which faith discovers. Good men have the most vivid conceptions. Witness those of old. they look down the vale of time, they see a star arise,—the everlasting hills do bow, the valleys are raised, and the moon puts on the brightness of the sun. The deserts and the dry places gush with waters. Nature pauses. The serpent forgets his fangs; the lion and the lamb sleep side by side, and the hand of the child is in the mane of the tiger. Nations gaze till they forget the murderous work of war, and the garments rolled in blood. The whole earth is enlightened, and the star shines on till it brings in everlasting day. Here are glowing conceptions, but they are not the work of a depraved imagination. They will all be realized.

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