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a passport from the governor of Upsala, and a recommendation, from the academy."

So humble were his circumstances in early life, that when at the university of Upsala, he was chiefly dependent on the kindness, and even charity of his asso- At Jockmock, the schoolmaster and ciates, of whose meals and worn-out the priest tormented him "with their clothes he was glad to partake. And yet consummate and most pertinacious ignosome of his benefactors were scarcely rance." The latter began his conversabetter off than himself; for he was often tion with remarks on the clouds, showing obliged to mend the old shoes they gave how they strike the mountains in their him with pasteboard and birch bark. It passage over the country, carrying off is difficult to conceive rightly of the stones, trees, and cattle. "I ventured," indigence to which he was reduced; and says Linnæus, "to suggest that such it is truly gratifying to add, that at a accidents were rather to be attributed to subsequent period he publicly expressed the force of the wind, for that the clouds his gratitude to Divine Providence for could not of themselves lift or carry away the support he had experienced amidst anything. He laughed at me, saying, his several privations. "I thank thee, surely I had never seen any clouds. I Almighty God," was his language, "that replied, that whenever the weather is in the course of my life, amidst the heavy foggy, I walk in clouds; and when the pressure of poverty, and in all my other fog is condensed, and no longer supported trials, thou hast been always present to in the air, it immediately rains. To all me with thy omnipotent aid." such reasoning, being above his comprehension, he only returned a sardonic smile. Still less was he satisfied with my explanation, how watery bubbles may be lifted up into the air, as he told me the clouds were solid bodies. On my denying this, he reinforced his assertion with a text of Scripture, silencing me by authority, and then laughing at my ignorance. He next condescended to inform me, that after rain, a phlegm is always to be found on the mountains, where the clouds have touched them. Upon my replying that this phlegm is a vegetable, called nostoc, I was, like St. Paul, judged to be mad, and that too much learning had turned my brain."

His most intimate friend at Upsala
was Peter Artide. Speaking of him,
Linnæus says,
"He excelled me in che-
mistry, and I outdid him in the know-
ledge of birds, insects, and botany."
Artide probably imbibed the spirit of his
companion, for he subsequently produced
a work on fishes, by which he has long

been known. A new career was now
opened before Linnæus, on his being
appointed by the society instituted at
Upsala for examining the natural produc-
tions of the kingdom, to explore, as a
scientific traveller, the remote and desert
regions of Lapland. His outfit was not
a little amusing. "My clothes," he
says, "consisted of a light coat, of West
Gothland linsey-woolsey cloth, without
folds, lined with red shalloon, having
small cuffs and collar of shag; leather
breeches, a round wig, a green leather
cap, and a pair of half-boots.
I carried a
small leather bag, half an ell in length,
but somewhat less in breadth, furnished
on one side with hooks-and-eyes, so that
it could be opened and shut at pleasure.
This bag contained one shirt, two pairs
of false sleeves, two half-shirts, an ink-
stand, pen-case, microscope, and spying-
glass; a gauze cap, to protect me occa-
sionally from the gnats; a comb, my
journal, and a parcel of paper stitched
together for drying plants, both in folio;
my manuscript Ornithology,'' Flora
Uplandica,' and Characteres Generici.'
I wore a hanger at my side, and carried a
small fowling-piece, as well as an octan-
gular stick, graduated, for the purpose of
measuring. My pocket-book contained

We cannot follow him through the incidents of a journey, whose whole extent was about 3,800 English miles. "Most toilsome was it; and I confess," he says, "that I was obliged to sustain more hardship and danger in wandering through this single tract of our northern world, than in all the travels which I undertook in other parts, though these were certainly not without fatigue. But when my journeys were over, I quickly forgot all their dangers and difficulties, which were compensated by the invaluable fruits obtained on these excursions."

Various were the incidents, extended the travels, and unceasing the labours of his after life. The first edition of his

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Systema Naturæ," which consisted of fourteen folio volumes, was printed at Leyden, in 1735. Dr. Turton translated it into English in 1806; in which language it forms seven volumes, octavo. "We may venture to predict," says sir J.

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Linnæus commences and ends his more important works with some passage of Scripture expressive of the power, glory, and beneficence of God, the Creator and Preserver of all things. In his lectures and excursions he availed himself of opportunities of dwelling on these topics, and "on these occasions," says one of his biographers, "his heart glowed with celestial fire, and his mouth poured forth torrents of admirable eloquence."

Most cordially do we unite in the following exhortation of this eminent naturalist:

"Let us consider the works of God, and observe the operations of his hands. Let us take notice of, and admire his infinite wisdom and goodness in the formation of them. No creature in this sublunary world is capable of so doing beside man, and yet we are deficient herein. We content ourselves with the knowledge of the tongues, or a little skill in philosophy, or history perhaps, and antiquity, and neglect that which to me seems more material-I mean, natural history and the works of the creation. I do not discommend or derogate from those other studies; I should betray mine own ignorance and weakness should I do so; I only wish they might not altogether jostle out and exclude this. I wish that this might be brought in fashion among us. I wish men would be so equal and civil as not to disparage, deride, and vilify those studies which themselves skill not of, or are not conversant in; no knowledge can be more pleasant than this-none that doth so satisfy and feed the soul; in comparison whereto that of words and phrases seems to me insipid and jejune. That learning (saith a wise and observant prelate) which consists only in the form and pedagogy of arts, or the critical notions upon words and phrases, hath in it this intrinsical imperfection, that it is only so far to be esteemed as it conduceth to the knowledge of things, being in itself but a kind of pedantry, apt to infect a man with such odd humours of pride, and affecta

tion, and curiosity as will render him unfit for any great employment.'

Cuvier stands at a later period preeminent in connexion with the rise of the very important science of comparative anatomy. It had been supposed that all animals might be referred to man as a common type; but he showed that many presented characters, and even distinct organs, not discoverable in the human race. It was therefore necessary to assume other types of form; and Cuvier, in his great work on the animal kingdom, arranges all living creatures under four great divisions, the animals in each having a different structure from those in the others, or rather being formed on a different plan.

On his arrangements important improvements have since been made, which cannot now be minutely described, and for which the reader must be referred to the best works on natural history. It is due, however, to the eminent men already named, that their labours should be held in grateful remembrance. W.

"USE IS SECOND NATURE."

No common saying may, perhaps, be more frequently quoted than this. The truth of it is so fully exemplified a hundred times a day in our own experience, that we need not look round to others to realize its force or meaning. If we take our intellectual feelings and tastes, we shall not fail to remember some time when such studies and pursuits as may now afford us no less delight than instruction were regarded as nothing but a task and a toil to be engaged in. Who does not remember what a drudgery it seemed when in his school-boy days he first began to spell out the strange characters of a dead language, and yet others passed easily over the same passages, and even admired them. It may have been surprising to us that even experienced eyes could discover anything to admire in so dreary a waste as that page seemed to be to us; but we find the solution now as we perhaps charitably accounted it then, in the old saying, "Use is second nature." Twice such time's use may have spread its circling arms around us too, and inclosed us within its potent grasp. The dry pursuits of boyhood may have become the intellectual luxuries of maturer years, and thoughts which then

seemed shadowy, vague, and unmeaning, may have developed themselves into realities and truths which are the very vital principles of the mind's best exercises.

But the same influence may, perhaps, be more powerful over the body than the mind, or at least its effects are more easily and readily discerned. To take only the sense of taste: it has been observed by sir Francis Bacon, that our taste is never pleased better than with those things which at first created a disgust in it; and we must all know how many things which are at first noxious to the palate, have grown into luxuries from the force of habit. Before the drunkard had for the first time in his life drained the burning draught, and sold humanity and reason to the "mocker," "wine," (Prov. xx. 1,) he would have trembled were he told of the hell that lurked within that cup, and have fled from it as "for his life." But who knows not the effect of habit on such a character? One after another, each hope and feeling which make life run happily, and stamp an English home as the dearest fireside in all the world, are drowned and lost in the depths of intoxication; and how then can the tears of a heart-broken wife, or the tatters of a starving family, have any softening influence on such a heart as his?

But we would rather now deduce some reflections from this often-quoted maxim, than endeavour further to enforce a truth which every one will be ready to admit. From what has already been remarked, we must have seen how habituating oneself to any course, for good or evil, creates not only an appetite for such a pursuit, but also a relish and pleasure in pursuing, whether it refer to the mind or the body. How careful, then, should we be in contracting habits! How watchful and suspicious of their character, seeing they have so immense an influence in directing and deciding our destinies for time and for eternity! A habit is not like Jonah's gourd, which springs up in a night and will wither at to-morrow's sunrise: it is like the forest oak, which, though all unseen, still towers more lofty and gains fresh vigour with every day-dawn, spreading wider and wider its sturdy branches, till its roots have tangled themselves into the very essence of the soil, and it stands scatheless and untottering amidst the terrors of the tempest and the flight of years. We

may not ourselves know the beginning of a habit. A passing bird may let fall a seed upon the mountain, which he was bearing away to his helpless brood; and thence may have sprung the fairest cedar that waves upon the sides of Lebanon. A casual incident or strange influence may have planted in our breast some such chance seedling, whence has grown up a habit which has rooted itself into our very being. We must never forget, then, that a habit is a growing good or evil: it has never attained its fullest vigour, nor scattered its most abundant odours, while the principle which gave birth to it remains within. When that spark is extinct, we shall have no more fuel for the flame.

And then there is no difficulty in keeping alive a habit which we may have contracted. When once its seed is within the heart, it will immediately "take root downward and bear fruit upward." There is no fear of its withering from an inattention to it: it will draw for itself moisture and sustenance to its need, and poison or purify all around it. Any soil is deep and firm enough for it-any climate congenial; the peaceful valleys of England; the savage wilds of Africa: with civilized and barbarian; with prince and peasant; with Jew or Gentilehabit alike finds an atmosphere in which it can live, and "flourish and abound.'

It behoves us, then, as our chief care, to watch these principles of right and wrong; they must not worm themselves into our hearts "at unawares :" they must be watched, and weighed, and tried. By such a process of refining, the dross will soon separate itself from the true metal. Seeking grace to banish the seductive causes of evil from our hearts, it will be scarcely possible that the seeds of evil shall find an entrance there, to vegetate and flourish, till habit has flung round body and soul the inextricable thraldom of its poisonous tendrils.

And if we wish to keep ourselves free from evil and bad habits, the surest way to attain such an object is, to be ever desirous and aiming to form good ones. The two cannot exist together. If the heart has closed with one set, it must reject the other: "Doth a fountain send forth at the same place sweet water and bitter? Can the fig-tree bear olive berries, either a vine, figs? so can no fountain both yield salt water and fresh," Jas. iii. 11, 12. And if we would enjoy the eternal pleasures of that world

into which "shall in no wise enter anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie," it is absolutely necessary for us to "live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world." To use the words of a late eminent writer-" That state of bliss we call heaven will not be capable of affecting those minds which are not thus qualified for it; we must, in this world, gain a relish of truth and virtue, if we would be able to taste that knowledge and perfection which are to make us happy in the next. The seeds of those spiritual joys and raptures which are to rise up and flourish in the soul to all eternity, must be planted in her during this her present state of probation. In short, heaven is not to be looked upon only as the reward, but as the natural effect of a religious life." We read of going "from strength to strength," of being "changed from glory to glory," and of other expressions, which would all teach us that our duty in this life is to contract habits of virtue and godliness, and thus fit ourselves, as much as in us lies, for the participation and enjoyment of the glories that shall hereafter be revealed.

And we are left in no doubt to determine what this preparation must be, or how such habits are to be formed on earth as may commence for us while we contract them the very employment and bliss of heaven. "The kingdom of God is within you," was our Lord's reply to the proud observer of external forms and ritual ceremonies. There are still the elements of our own heaven or hell, if we will look for them. We know that the heart is God's throne, the body the temple of his Spirit, the tongue the organ of his praise. If, then, that throne is usurped by self, or anything but God; if that body becomes tainted with the defiling touch of sensuality, and God's image is debased by degradations from its Divine nature, which ought not to be once named amongst" beings endued with reason and elevated with a soul: if that tongue descends from its high office of blessing God, to curse men; tuned to the discordant chimes of slander or quarrel, and "set on fire of hell," we can have no doubt what kingdom is within us, or to what issue our habits are hurrying us. But if, on the other hand, our habits have been moulded into such forms as St. Paul enumerates to the Galatians, (chap. v. 22-24,) if we have made

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"faith in Christ" the rock upon which all our hopes are built, round which all the graces of the Christian character cluster, drawn towards it as to a magnet, whence to sever them would be to destroy: then we shall already have caught some faint echoes of the songs of the redeemed above. Already we shall have felt evidences of a heaven within, and, piercing beyond the dull limits of earth and the horizon of time, we shall have found our souls illumined by the first beams of that fulness of joy which we hope hereafter, through the merits of Christ, to realize in the eternal splendours of his immediate presence.

THE ROCK MANAKIN.

S. F. J.

THE rock manakin, (Rupicola crocea,) one of the most elegant birds of the present family of Passerine, and the type of the genus Rupicola, is a native of South America, inhabiting the rocky and mountain districts along the rivers of Surinam, Cayenne, and Guiana. Most probably it is to be found along the whole range of the river Amazon, and its tributary branches. Latham states, "that it is nowhere so frequent as in the mountain Luca, near the river Oyapoc, and in the mountain Courouaye, near the river Aprouack, where it builds in the cavernous hollows and dark recesses: the nest is composed merely of a few dry sticks, and the eggs are two in number, of the size of those of a pigeon, and equally white." The rock manakin is a shy and solitary bird, giving preference to silent and secluded glens and rocky ravines, where it appears to pass an undisturbed existence. Waterton informs us, that it is a native of the woody mountains of Macoushia, a tract on the Apoura-poura, a tributary river falling into the Essequibo from the south, inhabited by the Macoushi Indians, so celebrated for their skill in preparing the deadly vegetable poison wourali, with which they smear the points of their arrows. "In the day

time it retires amongst the darkest rocks, and only comes out to feed a little before sunrise and at sunset: it is of a gloomy disposition, and never associates with the other birds of the forest."

The rock manakin is about the size of a small pigeon; the general colour of the plumage is rich saffron yellow, with a tinge of orange; the head is ornamented with a beautiful crest, flattened at the

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sides, and rising like a fan. The secondaries and tail-coverts are square, as if cut at the ends, and the wing-coverts are elongated into loose flowing plumes. The tail is brown, tipped with yellow. The female is not so fully ornamented with crest and plumes as the male, and her colour is of an uniform brown. We are aware of no instance of a living specimen being brought to Europe.-Natural History of Birds.

THE MARQUIS OF VICO.
No. III.

DURING Galeazzo's sojourn in Italy, Hieronymus Fracastoro, a renowned philosopher, poet, and physician, had, at the request of the aged marquis, taken great pains to persuade Galeazzo to submit to the will of his father, and to give up the new sect, full of deceit and lies, to which he had joined himself. Galeazzo answered only from the word of God, and that he used with such power, that the man of learning had nothing to say

against it, and even apologized for his unrestrained vehemence. Seeing that his father had less reason to dread the effects of his change, as to temporal matters, Galeazzo hoped his opposition would be in some degree lessened, and he returned to Geneva with an easy mind, wishing not to be idle, but to promote good order, as far as he could, in the congregation of the Italians. Many families had recently forsaken their fatherland, and added to the number of these exiles who had fled to Geneva, in order to profess their faith without molestation. Galeazzo travelled with Calvin as far as Basle, and there he met with Celsus Maximilianus, a member of the noble family of the count of Martinenge, who had once, by his eloquence, risen to a post of eminence in the Roman Catholic church, which he had afterwards abandoned. Celsus had thoughts of going to England, but Galeazzo persuaded him to return with him to Geneva, where he might enjoy liberty of conscience, and the society of the excellent Calvin, and other men of piety. The church of

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