and already, many gentlemen, who have estates in the neighbourhood of Sydney, and between the Parramatta road and George's River, will neither allow their timber to be cut down, nor their lands to be trespassed on. Some park-deer, which were brought to New South Wales many years ago, and let loose, have increased wonderfully, and it was no uncommon circumstance for sportsmen to take their guns into the bush not many miles from Sydney, and return in the evening with a fine doe or buck behind their saddles. In consequence of this, the late Dr. Wardell caused to be inserted in the newspaper the laws and regulations respecting deer and game in England, and prohibiting every person from trespassing on his grounds (at Petersham, about six miles from Sydney), for that purpose.

These bush-lands, therefore, are beginning to show their park-fences, and display an importance, which, from their former dreariness, and gloomy aspect, might not have been expected. There are several parcels of land on the south side of George's River, which have been occupied and cultivated many years, some of which are situated in such sequestered glens, corners, and nooks of the ranges, as scarcely to be known, or visited, except by their respective occupiers. Many of these people gain a livelihood, some by fishing, others by making lime from the shells, and taking it to Liverpool in boats, &c., to which place the river is navigable for barges. There are also some tracts of forest-ranges, which fall upon George's River between Liverpool and Campbell-town. When following these down with my party, we fell in with wild horses which were in exceeding good condition. I afterwards heard that many attempts had been made by stock-keepers to drive them in, but in vain. The nature of the ground is such, that the wild animals can gallop into the secure retreat of ravines where no horseman dare follow. The only likely method of getting them would be by stratagem, which is sometimes practised in securing horses that have strayed away; for the more simple and gentle, the method of catching, treating, and subduing wild horses, the better. I have seen a wild horse caught by a rope thrown over its head, and then fastened to a post. The animal got frightened, ran off, pulled and struggled till he broke his neck. All these patches of forest-land abounded with the larger sort of kangaroos, at the time I was employed in surveying the ground, and scarcely a day passed without our dogs killing two or more of them. There are some farms on the south side of Botany Bay, and a very fair run for cattle on the ranges to the westward. This side is more irregular than the other, being indented with bays, mud-banks, and mangrove-flats by the shore. But some parts of the land which divides the bay from Port Hacking, is rather of a peculiar formation.

The headlands are here also separated from the main land by sand-bars, as before described. A chaos of low sandy ridges, without form or order, have been thrown up in an extraordinary manner. In some places the steep banks of sand run in rows, then cross-ways; in others hillocks have been formed, pyramidal, unconnected (the sport and plaything of the wave), assuming a variety of curious accidental shapes. But it is evident from the vegetation which exists in many places upon it, that it has not been disturbed or inundated by the sea for many years. Some of the sandy flats which are sheltered, abound with the cabbage-trees, fern, and apple-trees, and although they are not clothed with grass, yet the soil must be very productive. The elevated points between the headlands possess this sandy character,

but there the land is barren and exposed; circular pools of water and small swamps abound upon it, with green patches of dry and rough herbage scattered here and there.

The entrance to Port Hacking is narrow and dangerous, and never attempted by vessels of any size. It is almost blocked up by a reef of sunken rocks, which rise straight across from one point out to the other, over which the waves are seen to break and give warning of danger. The headlands, both north and south, are composed of black rocks, which are neither high nor striking in appearance. The south head of Port Hacking is perfectly bare, and many of the neighbouring hills are altogether destitute of timber, and being covered with green herbage, they appear from the sea like cultivated farms. From this point a range of mountain extends southward along the coast towards Illawarra, and attains a great height, where the public road before mentioned descends into that rich and luxuriant district. On the west side of this range are the gullies of the Port Hacking river, but its eastern side falls in perpendicular cliffs upon the sea-shore for several miles.

There is no harbour or inlet for vessels of any description, and but one or two short sandy beaches between Port Hacking and the Coal Cliff. Near this point there is a farm called Stanwell Park, which is romantically situated in the first recess of the mountain-range. A flat, and some land cleared on the inner side of one of the cliffs, are clearly distinguishable from the summits, together with a beautiful wide beach, whose finely-curved line, from the base of one rugged precipice to the other, is a conspicuous object in the grandeur of the scene, though everything below appears so diminutive from the rocky heights above. The coast between Port Jackson and Broken Bay is diversified by projecting headlands, connected by long sand-bars with lagoons, and teatree swamps within them, but the coast between Port Hacking and Illawarra may be termed a bold and uninterrupted line of mountain-cliffs. This bold outline of coast mountain-cliffs continues southward from Port Hacking about forty miles, when it connects with the Mittagong range near Bong-Bong, by taking a westerly direction. After passing what is called the "Coal Cliff," which is about thirty-four miles south of Port Jackson, the rich flats of the Illawarra country commence, between the base of the mountain-precipices and the sea, and the range then lies back further from the shore.

The view from the summits, over a point on the coast called Bulli, is extensive and grand, and here the table-land suddenly breaks off in abrupt perpendicular masses of rock, and falls in steep wooded undulations towards the shore. The descent of the road is difficult, and may be called dangerous for horsemen; yet, many as there are who travel up and down, an accident rarely occurs. The traveller in his descent finds himself entering a totally different region from the country which he has passed over in his journey towards the mountain. The main road from Sydney to Illawarra branches off from the Parramatta road about five miles from the capital, and passes through Liverpool about sixteen miles further a little south of westward. This town is the thoroughfare, at present, to the main southern roads, and the bush through which this main road has been made is for many miles very dreary and uninviting. The soil, also, is rotten in many parts, and, consequently, there have been few farms cleared, and the tedious sameness of the aspect is not relieved. It crosses two or three salt-water creeks which flow into George's River, one of which may be nearly

thirty yards or more wide. The bridge-builders have been very unfortunate on this creek, since there has scarcely ever been a flood but the bridge has disappeared, and the whole fabric been swept away. Another part of this road (which, indeed, with these exceptions, is very good,) is subject to an inundation for nearly half a mile, which prevents carriages from passing. The land is low and flat, and there is not a sufficient drain to carry off or hold the water.

The screech of the black cockatoo, and the sounding note of the bell-bird, often arrest the traveller's attention. The former always resort in these dismal forests, and are scarcely ever seen (like the white cockatoo) in cheerful and open lands. They are neither so plentiful or common as the white, nor do they congregate in such flocks, as more than seven or eight are seldom seen together. They are of a jet shining black, having a formidable crest of feathers on the top of the head, which they erect at pleasure; but the inside of the wings, and the wide feathers of the tail, are of a brilliant red. They feed mostly upon insects, and cut out grubs from the bark of trees with their powerful beaks; but they rarely, if ever, annoy the settler by attacking his maize-fields, nor have I ever heard of one being tamed. The bellbird is small and plain, and celebrated only for its peculiar note, which is strikingly clear, and remarkable in sound. It is invariably the inhabitant of sequestered ravines and mountain-hollows.

The site of the town of Liverpool is close to the bend of George's River, as I have before mentioned, where it turns eastward toward the sea. The form of the town is apparent, from the streets being laid out of a good width and fenced in, but the houses are few and scattered. The surface of the town, as well as the neighbouring country, is flat and dismal. There is, however, a good church, and a very superior hospital in the town, which, though built of brick, has been erected in creditable style. There is also a gaol, which is surrounded by a wall, and a kind of timber-yard and barrack for prisoners. The river, probably, hereafter, may be of more importance to the place, but at present it is used only for the conveyance of heavy materials, as wood, stone, lime, and manure, &c., in boats.

About three and a half miles south of Liverpool, the road branches off to Campbell-town, which is eight miles further on, and then continues southward through the Appin district, till it crosses Tuggerah Creek, at a place called King's Falls, from whence it turns directly eastward to the descent of the mountain, the whole distance from Sydney being nearly fifty-four miles. The land from Liverpool begins to improve, and there are several good farms and gentlemanly residences towards Campbell-town. The Appin range is also under extensive circulation, and the soil is for the most part excellent; but as soon as the road crosses the King's Falls, utter barrenness and gloom accompany the traveller to the mountain. Campbell-town is merely a village, having but one street, the houses of which are nearly all inns. There is a small church and court-house, which are both built of brick. The town is often badly off for water in dry seasons, and the people are obliged to fetch it from Tuggerah Creek, which is more than a mile

distant.

Now, as I have before stated, the inland features, as well as the boundaries of this portion of country, are nearly of a similar character to the country described between Port Jackson and Broken Bay. There is in both a river on the north, the sea on the east, a range and road on the south, and the same on the west. The boundaries of both include nearly

an equal portion of useless lands, and the very shape or form of the lands so included are not widely different. The mountain-rivulets of both derive their sources from the southern extremities, flow northward the same, and disembogue themselves in a similar way, into rivers or inlets of the sea.

Again, these two districts, which lie so immediately north and south of Sydney, possess similar disadvantages in the formation of their narrow, broken ridges and impassable ravines, and it is probable that both portions will remain like some regions of the Blue Mountains, a blank, uninhabited and useless. Tracts of country, which, though surrounded as they are by the industrious labours of men, will, nevertheless, remain for years and years unnoticed and unseen. A road, a path, or even a deserted hut, gives life and expectation to a place,-it shows where some one has been, and once dwelt; but the solitude and awful dreariness which reigns amid the trackless chaos of dark and impassable ravines is disheartening. W. R. G.

WHEN any one acknowledges a moral governor of the world; perceives that domestic and social relations are perpetually operating, and seem intended to operate, to retain and direct men in the path of duty; and feels that the voice of conscience, the peace of heart which results from a course of virtue, and the consolations of devotion, are ever ready to assume their office, as our guides and aids in the conduct of all our actions;-he will probably be willing to acknowledge also that the means of a moral government of each individual are not wanting; and will no longer be oppressed or disturbed by the apprehension that the superintendence of the world may be too difficult for its Ruler, and that any of His subjects and servants may be overlooked. He will no more fear that the moral than that the particular case: and as he knows that every sparrow which physical laws of God's creation should be forgotten in any falls to the ground contains in its structure innumerable marks of the Divine care and kindness, he will be per suaded that every man, however apparently humble and insignificant, will have his moral being dealt with according supported, and raised, if he use the appointed means which to the laws of God's wisdom and love; will be enlightened, God's administration of the world of moral light and good offers to his use.-WHEWell.

RELIGION is too often represented as a state of melancholy gloom, as a barren desert, in which we are condemned to wander without one object to delight the eyes, or to cheer the heart; as a dreary banishment from all the innocent pleasures and harmless gratifications of the world around us. But it is not in the solitude of seclusion, it is not in austerities of perpetual and monastic penance, that Christi anity consists; it is a religion of joy; it promotes the hap piness of mankind here, as well as hereafter. Happiness is not only pointed to as an object, but it is inculcated as its doctrines and its duties, who shall represent melancholy a duty. They, therefore, form a very erroneous estimate of as its precept, or enforce severity as its practice. It is the messenger of glad tidings to man, it is the minister of comfort to the afflicted children of mortality; to every disconsolate soul, as to Jerusalem of old, it speaks comfortably; iniquity is pardoned." On the other hand, he that would it tells her that "her warfare is accomplished, that her unite the joys of the Lord with the pleasures of sin, he that would combine the purity of the Gospel with the pollution of guilt, will discover too late that he cannot enter into a composition with the Almighty for the gratification of his passions, and that when the infatuations of sin shall anticipation of the wrath to come. have passed away, no joy will then remain, but a fearful It is in the innocent mind alone, that the happiness of Christianity can take root; and as the purity of the soul is stained with the contagion of guilt, in such proportion will its real joys fade off from the polluted surface. RENNELL.

FRIENDSHIP hath the skill and observation of the best physician, the diligence and vigilance of the best nurse, and the tenderness and patience of the best motherLORD CLARENDON.

II.

HUMAN LIFE AND THE TABLES OF MORTALITY. It would only be repeating an acknowledged truth, to say that Human Life is uncertain, and that its duration varies, according to the age and circumstances of the life proposed. But although age may in some measure denote the value of life, it does not necessarily follow that an equality in age will produce an equality in the duration of existence. There are very few of our readers who could not select, from the circle of their own acquaintance, many who, with equal ages, have by no means an equal prospect of seeing the commencement of another year. During the patriarchal ages, before the follies and intemperance of mankind had spread disease and its consequent miseries, age might perhaps with propriety have been adopted as the standard measure of longevity; but of later years it has only served to measure out the portion of existence due to mankind collectively. The life of man may terminate at any period between birth and the extremity of old age, and although it would be extremely difficult to assign the exact period at which the dissolution of a single individual might be expected to occur, yet it is by no means so difficult a task to portion out the number of years due to a large mass or body of mankind.

The progress of population and the waste of life, have long since been found to be regulated by an absolute and almost unerring law. It is not indeed pretended that the action of this law is everywhere the same. It would be the extreme of folly, to suppose that the duration of existence is the same amongst all nations, and in all climates, at all periods, and among all classes of society; a thousand causes interfere either to increase or to diminish the mortality of particular places, and particular periods. Some countries are scourged by periodical endemics, and some periods are marked by scarcity and famine. The waste of life is greater among people who arrive early at maturity, than it is among those in whom maturity is backward. It is for this reason that the natives and inhabitants of warm climates, who are, as it were, forced into premature perfection, seldom or ever reach the extremity of life; nor do we want evidence to show that the waste of life is sensibly affected by the comparative scarcity or abundance of provision. Every material rise in the price of food, is invariably attended by a corresponding decrease in the number of the yearly births, by an increase in the sickness, and by an excess in the mortality of that year; but, with all this apparent fickleness of nature to contend with, our statists have traced the mortality of the different countries and classes of mankind, with an exactness and regularity which is scarcely credible.

The constitution and arrangement of the human frame, however perfect it may originally have been, intimate that it was not formed to continue in healthy action, or to perform with regularity its various functions, for a longer period than seventy or eighty years. From constitutional defects or hereditary weakness,-from intemperance, self-indulgence or folly,-a certain number of every generation fall sick, and of these a certain number annually die, at every age, but in such a manner and by such a law, that the rate of mortality gradually diminishes from birth to puberty, and is from that period gradually accelerated until the extremity of life. Life may, indeed, be said to be divided into

three distinct periods or eras, namely:-The period from infancy to puberty, or the commencement of manhood; from and during manhood to the commencement of old age; and from the beginning of that era to the termination of existence. During infancy life is exceedingly precarious, and the mortality of that season far exceeds the mortality of a middle age. This is in a great measure owing to the delicacy of the human frame at this very tender age, and to the fatality of the numerous disorders which infect childhood in its very early states. period of manhood is marked by a certain but a slow decay, while from old age to death, the velocity of mortality is extremely great. In these papers it will be our object to confine our inquiries to the observations which have been made on the duration of life in our own country, and among our own people, and to the use which has been made of the materials collected in the construction of the various tables of mortality by which the Life Offices regulate their charges.

The

The observations, upon the accuracy of which the law of mortality in this kingdom depends, have been chiefly drawn from the examination of the parish registers of different cities, towns, and villages, and from the population and other returns made to Parliament. The origin of the parish registers and bills of mortality as they are still called, has been already given in a former paper in the Saturday Magazine*. Other and very different sources have been examined, and have been found to produce data, in some cases, superior to that procured from the registers of even the oldest parishes. We shall, in the course of this paper, allude to the various sources which have provided data for these inquiries, but we cannot promise more than a very brief sketch of the subject, and a short but succinct account of the three or four principal Tables which have been constructed upon the materials furnished by the British empire.

The first in importance, and the oldest, of these tables, was formed by the celebrated Dr. Price, from the parish registers of the town of Northampton, a small central and healthy borough town, which in itself combines many of the advantages of both town and country. We shall not be able in this place to give a detailed account of the method pursued by Dr. Price in forming this table, the tabular numbers of which are, of course, wholly artificial, and have been produced by a series of mathematical assumptions, but the ground-work of it is substantially correct, and founded upon real observations. It is not to speak too favourably of this table, to say, that frequent use and subsequent experience have concurred in rendering testimony to its value and accuracy, especially in the later stages of existence. In its tabular form it consists of 11,650 individuals, who are traced from birth to the termination of existence, which, according to this table, is at the age of ninety-six years. The numbers dying in each year are noted, and, consequently, the number surviving to commence the ensuing year. is as follows:

In its form it

From an examination of the above specimen, the nature of these tables will be made apparent; it commences with the birth of 11,650 children, out of

Vol. I. pp. 82, 118.