reach us, because the moon is placed between the sun and our globe. This is the reason that a solar eclipse is never visible at the same time in all parts of our earth; for, unless the sun had really lost its light, the eclipse could not be visible at the same time in every part of the hemisphere. It is, on the contrary, always more in one country than in another, and in some places it is never seen at any time. The moon not only darkens our earth sometimes, but the latter also casts its shade upon the moon, and by that means intercepts the rays of the sun from it, either wholly or in part; and this is called an eclipse of the moon: But it can only be when the moon is at one side of the earth, and the sun at the opposite side, and consequently, when it is full moon. As that planet is really darkened by the shadow of the earth, the eclipse is perceived at the same time on all the points of an hemisphere of our globe. Some people may ask, what the use is of eclipses of the sun and moon! To those even who calculate the use of natural things from the immediate advantage that accrues from them, the eclipses are of importance. It is by their means that the true position and distance of countries and towns are known; and it is from thence that we have been able to trace accurately the geographical maps of the most remote countries. Eclipses, if well observed, serve also to confirm chronology, and to direct the navigator, by shewing him how far he is from the east or west.

However inattentive we may be to the importance of these advantages, they are not the less essential to us.

JUNE

JUNE XXIX.

THE STALK OF THE WHEAT.

Let

WE see that the wheat is growing every day, that the tender ears of corn are insensibly ripening, in order to furnish us, some weeks hence, with wholesome bread: A precious blessing with which nature rewards the labours of man. us cast our eyes on a field of wheat; let us calculate the millions of ears of corn which cover one single field, and let us reflect on the wisdom of those laws which procure such an abundance for us. How many preparatives were necessary to furnish us with this most indispensible of all food! How many progressive changes were to take place in nature before an ear of corn could spring up! It is now almost ready to produce its fruit, and invites us to reflect on its construction. When the grain of wheat has been some time in the ground, it shoots upwards a stalk which rises perpendicularly, but only grows slowly, that the wheat may have time to ripen. It is for very wise reasons that it grows four or five feet high, in order to preserve the grain from the moisture of the ground, which would rot it. The height of the stalk contributes also to the depuration of the nourishing juices which the root conveys to it; and its round form assists this operation; for, by that means, the heat penetrates equally into every part of the stem. But how

is it possible that so slender a stalk can support itself, and bear up its fruitful head, without sinking under the weight, or without being beat down by a breath of wind? The Creator guarded against this inconvenience in the formation of

the stem. He furnished it with four very strong knots, which in some measure serve as screws, strengthening it, without taking from it the power of bending. The construction of these knots alone shews the greatest wisdom. Like a very fine sieve, they are full of little holes, and through these orifices the juices rise up, and the heat of the sun penetrates into them. The heat attenuates the juices which collect there, and purifies them, by making them pass through a sort of sieve. The stalk is liable to be beat down by storms and heavy showers of rain, but its not being thick secures it. It is flexible enough to bend without breaking. If it was harder and stiffer, it might certainly resist all weather; but would it then serve as a bed for the poor?

From out the chief stem there shoot others not so high, as well as leaves, which, collecting drops of dew and rain, furnish the plant with the nutritive juices it requires. In the mean time, the grain, that essential part of the plants, forms itself by degrees. To preserve these tender sprouts from the accidents and dangers which might destroy them at the instant of their birth, the two upper leaves of the stalk unite closely at the top, both to preserve the ear of corn, and to draw to it the nourishing juices. But as soon as the stem is formed enough to supply the grain of itself with proper juices, the leaves gradually dry and drop off, that none may be taken from the fruit, and that the root may have nothing more than necessary to nourish it. When this scaffolding is removed, the edifice itself appears in full beauty. The bearded corn waves gracefully, and its points serve for ornament, as well as defence against the birds. Refreshed with gentle rains, it thrives till the appointed time, and grows every day

more

more yellow, till sinking at last under the weight of its riches, it bends its head of itself to the sickle.

What wonderful wisdom and power appear in the construction of one single stalk of wheat, and yet we seldom pay attention to it, because it is daily before our eyes. But what other proof of goodness can the Creator give us, if we are insensible to this. Ungrateful, thoughtless man! open thy heart to the sweet sensations of gratitude and joy. As long as thou art capable of contemplating a field of corn with indifference, thou wilt be unworthy of the food it furnishes in such abundance. Learn to think as a man, to enjoy the noblest pleasure a mortal is capable of in this world, that of tracing thy Creator in every

creature.

...

over.

JUNE XXX.

THE BLIGHT.

THAT is the name given to those insects which settle upon the stalks and leaves of plants in such swarms as to cover them sometimes all There are as many species of them as plants; and they are more worthy our attention. than any other insect, on account of the singularities in them. What distinguishes them, in the first place, from any known species of animals is, that they not only lay eggs, but also produce young ones alive. In the heat of summer they are viviparous, that is to say, that the young ones come from the mother's womb completely formed and alive; undoubtedly because

the plants at that time furnish them with nourishment. Towards the middle of autumn they lay eggs, which are not hatched till the spring following; because, if the young ones were produced sooner, they would perish for want of food. Precisely at the period when the females begin to lay, the males appear; which seem to indicate that their existence was not necessary till then. This supposition is fully confirmed by many experiments. If one of the blights is taken at the moment of its birth, and shut up in a glass by itself, it will, thus sequestered, engender another like itself, when it acquires a certain degree of growth; and it will, at the end of a few days, be surrounded by a numerous family. If the experiment is repeated on one of its young, and even for many generations the result will still be the same. Let us observe another singularity: In some species of insects, the males have wings, and the females are without any, In the blight the two sexes are alike, either both produced with them, or both otherwise.— Those with wings are so small, in comparison with the others, that they walk over them as they do upon fruit. This remarkable instance of what may be called singularities in nature (an instance so contrary to the common rules) leads us naturally to enquire why there are singularities in nature, and what could induce the Creator to deviate sometimes from the common laws? In order to answer this question in a satisfactory manner, we ought to be able to take in the whole of all that is created; to know at the same time all the parts of the immense kingdom of nature, and the connection between each, before we can be capable of judging to what, or how far, any thing can be useful or hurtful to the whole.

But