Maury was enabled to predict the course | period, and from the north-west during and position of a steam-vessel, the San the latter. Francisco, which was disabled in a storm in the year 1853, whilst conveying a regiment of United States troops to California. Great alarm being excited by the arrival of barks which had seen her in this crippled condition without being able to render any assistance themselves, searching vessels were promptly dispatched. But where were they to look? Science instantly mapped out the limits within which the ship would be likely to drift, and even indicated the very quarter where she would most probably be found. The exploring vessels took up the trail of the storm, and pursued the track which had been prescribed; but before they could reach the spot where the steamer was expected, relief had arrived. Had they not been thus anticipated, their instructions would have carried them within sight of the wreck. Strange to say, the Kilby, one of the vessels which accidentally contributed to the rescue, parted company with the transport ship in the night, and could neither find her in the morning nor tell in what direction to look; yet, hundreds of miles away, a philosopher sitting quietly in the National Observatory at Washington, could lay his finger on the chart, and guide the explorers to the locus of the shattered ship. Still more striking, perhaps, than the influence of heated water in the production of atmospheric disturbances, is the influence of heated land. There are the monsoons, for example. These are tropical winds which, instead of keeping up the character of the family for fickleness, blow steadily in one direction for about five months, and then blow as steadily in a different direction for about five months more. Each change occupies about a month, and is a very fussy transaction, being accompanied by blinding lightnings and deafening thunders, by rains which render the atmosphere opaque, and blasts which lift the surf and sometimes carry fishes into the interior. Subject to the gradual shiftings of direction which occur at these transition periods, and neglecting the consideration of certain local limitations, it may be said generally that north of the equator the wind blows from the south-west between April and October, and from the north-east between October and April. South of the Line it comes from the south-east during the former Now, what occasions these monsoons? A voyager in the Indian Ocean may little suspect that the cradle of the breeze by which his vessel is impelled lies far away in the interior of Asia. Yet such is supposed to be the case. The vast naked plains and the great desert tracts of the continent, when heated by the sun's vertical rays, must rarefy the atmosphere overhead, and produce a draught as if a furnace where in play. To feed this partial vacuum, air will be dragged in from any quarter where it can be procured. Since, then, these disturbing districts lie in the rear of the north-east trades, it is presumed that the stream which feeds them will be arrested, and that the trades themselves will be drawn back and pulled towards the affected spot. Further, the balance between the north and south trades being broken-for the meeting of these two produces that belt of equatorial calms which is elegantly known as the Doldrums or Horse latitudes-the southern trade, on finding no resistance, will pour over the Line into the northern hemisphere. But, in doing so, it will yield to the same distant influences which have troubled its brother trade, and at the same time will undergo deflection to the east, because it is now impregnated with the earth's equatorial velocity. The result (difficult to express without diagrams) will be the production of a south-west wind, such as actually blows north of the equator from April to October. It follows, also, that if these monsoons are due to the sun's influence as described, they should coïncide in their proceedings with the position of this luminary. And such is the case. When the south-west monsoon is in force, the deserts of Cobi and the peninsula of Hindoston are blazing under his directest beams; when the north-east breeze is in constant play, it is a sign that his presence has been transferred to the southern hemisphere. Applying the same principles to the monsoons of Africa, the Gulf of Mexico, and Central America, we may fairly conclude that these phenomena are occasioned by the deflection of the trade-winds in consequence of the overheating of distant plains and deserts. sandy wastes thus become important agents in the ocean economy, and the mariner owes the steady, serviceable Even great breezes, upon whose faithful flow he can | depend for more than five months together-breezes which will kindly bear his bark in one direction, and carry it back as well-to those Saharas which seem such scars and blemishes on the face of our planet. "He that made both sea and land," says Bishop Hall, "causeth both of them to conspire to the opportunities of doing good." Still what of the depths of the ocean? To know something of the surface is by no means sufficient. Naturally we feel as curious to probe those silent abysses and to investigate the secrets of Neptune's halls as Bluebeard's wife did to pry into the mysteries of the sealed chamber. Unfortunately it is not easy to gratify this laudable longing. The lively and ingenious Bishop Wilkins-he who maintained the possibility of constructing a flying chariot which would transport any enterprising gentleman to the moon-was also of opinion that an "ark" could be contrived whereby the bed of the sea might be explored, and various interesting discoveries effected not only of sunken treasures but of remarkable physical phenomena. Upon this enchanting topic his lordship is delightfully loquacious; and after discussing the means by which the submarine vessel is to be moved, its fouled atmosphere rectified, its passengers received or discharged, he asserts that "whole colonies may thus inhabit," living constantly at the bottom of the sea, printing their observations on the spot, and even bringing up families, whose surprise, on ascending for the first time to survey the glories of this upper world, is joyously depicted. 'Tis a grievous pity that the project of this charming visionary can not be realized; for who would not exult to learn that arks manned by crews of savans were groping their way along the floors of the Atlantic and Pacific in all directions, and that sooner or later the geography of the drowned portions of the globe would be taught in our schools as familiarly at least as that of Africa or Japan? But, alas! we know well that the pressure of the water upon any manageable vessel would be too prodigious to admit of any extensive descent, and that the difficulty of procuring fresh air would forbid any prolonged sojourn beneath the surges of the ocean. Perhaps, however, the reader may be dispose to imagine that nothing could be easier than to ascertain the depth of the sea at any particular spot. Heave out the lead, give it as much rope or line as it requires, and when it ceases to run from the real, you have gauged the abyss to a a yard. The task, however, is more difficult than it looks. The sea is as coy in revealing its depths as a lady in disclosing her age. In the profounder probings of the ocean how are you to know when the weight really touches the bottom? Some persons would tell us that at a certain distance from the surface the resistance must become so great that the lead will cease to sink, and that even parted anchors and iron cables must remain in suspension. This fancy rests upon the assumption that water is a compressible fluid; for not until its particles were crushed into such small compass that a cubic inch of the liquid should equal a cubic inch of the metal in gravity, could the latter be induced to float. Practically speaking, however, water may be regarded as an obstinate and irreducible thing, for Oersted ascertained that under the pressure of each additional atmosphere it shrunk to the extent of forty-six millionths of its bulk only. But still in attempting to fathom Neptune's domains, currents may carry out the line, and you may imagine that the plummet is plowing its way through the waters long after it has reached the bed of the sea. In 1852, Lieut. Parker ran out mile after mile of cord while exploring the ocean off the coast of SouthAmerica. Deep seemed to call unto deep, for here no bottom could be found, though ten miles of line were delivered. But on subsequent trials it was discovered that the true depth was not more than three miles, and the discrepancy could only be explained by referring it to the disturbing action of currents, which may sweep away the cord, or gather it into loops if they happen to flow in contrary directions. Amongst the various contrivances which have been proposed or adopted for ascertaining when the bed of the sea is really reached, some are intended to tell their own tale de profundis, either by ringing bells, exploding shells, giving electromagnetic signals, working clock-machinery, or registering the pressure to which a column of air is exposed. None of these, however, have served their purpose effectually, and some have egregiously failed. In the navy of the United States a very simple plan has been employed. Nothing tenant Parker by sub-currents as already more than a cannon-ball with a sufficient described. Further investigations, conlength of twine is required for each ex- ducted by the aid of Maury's law of periment. The latter, marked into lengths descent, have sadly curtailed these estiof one hundred fathoms and wound on mates of ocean profundity. "The reels of ten thousand fathoms, can be greatest depths at which the bottom of sacrificed at small cost, and thus the labor the sea has been reached with the plumof upheaving the apparatus is spared. Of met," says this writer," are in the Northcourse a thirty-two pound ball, though Atlantic Ocean, and the places where it necessarily lost, is quite as honorably em- has been fathomed do not show it to be ployed in ransacking the deep as in deeper than twenty-five thousand feet. battering a hostile fort. Subject to The deepest part is probably somewhere certain inevitable infirmities, this easy between the Bermudas and the Grand contrivance has done good service in Banks, but how deep it may be yet the American navy, and by carefully remains for the cannon-ball and soundingstudying the average times of descent twine to determine." for different depths, it has become possible to judge whether the movement of the line is due to the legitimate progress of the weight or to the impertinent action of currents. And pray, what is the depth of the ocean? Speculatively, it has been assumed that the greatest depression at sea would not exceed the highest elevation on land; but bolder conclusions have also been deduced. Dr. Whewell, for example, has inferred that the Atlantic may have valleys which it would take a line nine miles in length to fathom. At the meeting of the British Association in 1855, Mr. W. Darling suggested that, since the ocean occupies three times the area of the land, the waters are probably thrice as deep at their maximum point as the tallest of our mountains is lofty. And certainly some very romantic results have occasionally been obtained. Sir James Ross sounded at the distance of nine hundred miles from St. Helena, but his plummet could apparently find no resting-place at a depth of twenty-seven thousand six hundred feet, or five and a quarter miles. Lieutenant Walsh sounded with thirtyfour thousand feet, or six and a half miles, and proved equally unsuccessful. Lieutenant Berryman sounded mid-ocean with thirty-nine thousand feet, or seven and a half miles; but he, too, failed to probe the abyss. Captain Denham sounded in the South-Atlantic, between the island of Tristan d'Acunha and the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, and discovered bottom at forty-six thousand two hundred and thirty-six feet, or nearly eight and three quarters of a mile. But how little trust can be placed in these returns from the abyss must be manifest from the trick played on Lieu. Something more, however, was still required. Could not an apparatus be contrived which would bring up specimens of matter from the bed of the ocean, and enable us to discover what was going on in those gloomy and unvisited recesses ? Mr. Brooke, of the United States navy, set his wits to work, and proposed a scheme for the purpose. A shot, slung to a rod, is so arranged that, when it strikes the bottom, it shall be released. In a small cavity at the extremity of this rod a little soap or tallow is placed, and as it alights perpendicularly, any trifling substance will adhere, and may be drawn up to the surface for examination. It is needless to say that the apparatus was speedily applied. What, then, is there at the bottom of the ocean? It may well be imagined that the first specimens drawn from the sunless abysses of the Atlantic would be regarded with peculiar interest. Up there came a number of calcareous shells belonging to foraminifera, and a smaller number of silicious shells belonging to diatomaces; in other words, the floor of the sea at the depth of more than two miles was found to be strewn, not with sand or gravel, as might have been expected, but with the remains of microscopic creatures. Similar throws in the South-Pacific brought up representatives of numerous animaleular groups; neither of the two orders just mentioned, however, being very abundant. The result of various soundings in the North-Pacific, as high as the sixtieth parallel of latitude, showed that the bed of the sea was still paved with infusorial shells; but that, unlike the Atlantic products, the samples were particularly rich in the silicious shells of diatoms, whilst they were destitute of the calcar greatest undertakings in nature is intrusted to agents the smallest, the feeblest, and apparently the most inefficient. If we wanted a new island, we should never think of giving the order to a company of coral insects: nor if a new breakwater, could we expect any number of infusoria to construct it out of their shells. Yet here are some of the puniest things in creation, not only engaged in building future platforms of being, but in tempering the existing climates of the globe, and in maintaining the salubrity of the existing ocean by their labors on its salts. As fast as the rains dissolve these ingredients eous fragments of foraminifera. Yet, if startled by the discovery that the sea is floored with little organisms, we must not hastily conclude that the creatures passed their lives in these dismal depths. More probably they floated near the surface, and, when their ephemeral existence concluded, each tiny shell began its funeral descent, and sank by slow stages to its resting-place in the huge watery mausoleum. For we must now look upon the ocean bed as a vast burial-ground, where millions upon millions of animalcules are daily interred; with what object we may readily guess. The solid matter abstracted from the waters by their curious chemical" and send them down through the rivers powers is thus conveyed to the bottom of the sea, where it is gradually forming deposits, such as we see exemplified in the rocks of the olden world. That the process of accumulation must be tardy, indeed, can not be denied, but it is a notable fact that the execution of some of the to the sea, these faithful and everlasting agents of the Creator elaborate them into pearls, shells, corals, and precious things; and so, while they are preserving the sea, they are also embellishing the land by imparting new adaptations to its soil, fresh beauty and variety to its landscapes.' From the London Quarterly. LIFE AND TIMES OF CAREY, MARSHMAN, AND WARD.* GREAT honor is designed for the memory of the fathers of the Serampore Mission. No Englishman of the present generation will forget, and the history of England will convey to those of future times, how the heart of the nation, when sore with repeated tidings of disaster in India, was first relieved, and then filled with exultation, by gleam after gleam of victory from the sword of a hero leading a slender band; and how good men told with delight, that Havelock was a son-in-law of Dr. Marshman, the missionary. The same distinguished man left a son, who was long recognized as the unrivaled leader of the Indian press, and who, in the columns of the Friend of India, has exerted no inconsiderable influence on its history. Retired now to England, he has employed his leisure in telling the wonder Life and Times of Carey, Marshman, and Ward, Embracing the History of the Serampore Mission. By JOHN CLARK MARSHMAN. In Two Volumes. Longmans. 1859. ful tale of Carey, Ward, and his own father, in a work which no missionary, or statesman, or student of Indian affairs, can safely dispense with or honestly ignore. It is the moral history of North-India, and of the Indian Government, illustrated by and interwoven with a strange tale of enterprise, almost incredible mental prodigies, and eminent Christian graces. It is well told. The author has the advantage of perfect familiarity with the scenes and persons to which his narrative related. Yet sufficient time has elapsed to make the men already public personages. The work has the double advantage of history and biography-the elevation and gravity of the one, with the liveliness and personal interest of the other. Mr. Marshman is a practiced writer, holds his pen easily, never tries to be eloquent, but often is so; *One striking result of these deep sea-soundings has been the discovery of a line of volcanic cinders, a thousand miles in extent, which reaches entirely across the course of the Gulf Stream. and now and then seasons with a gentle grain of salt. You feel at once that your author is outspoken and fair. He does not hesitate to set forth the faults of his heroes, or to let it be seen that missionaries are subject to infirmities like other men. He is an honest Baptist, a frank Dissenter, and perhaps a little hard on Bishops; not so much on the genus as a whole, as on that anomalous species of it, the Colonial prelate, who, being a Bishop, is always wondering why he is not a baron. But genial and manly throughout, though he deals a few knocks on names we are wont to honor, he seems to feel his reasons to be good, and does not give offense. The variety of incident, the dovetailing of events, the shifting of the scene, are all admirably managed; and men are made to live before you, without formal descriptions of them. We could have wished the conversions both of some of the leaders and their disciples more fully given. History is gradually getting deeper into man, from the camp and court to the arts, from them to social life, and at length will come to the root of all life, the soul. Conversion has yet to be fairly recognized in general history as an element in national life, quite as much as genius or power. It is here in the world. It has affected men who have influenced nations. The historians must deal with it, or evade the most copious source of light upon moral questions. Mr. Marshman is far from overlooking conversion; but we should have been glad had he, in one or two cases, given the inner history of a soul, as fully as D'Aubigné has done that of Luther. No historian has told us what kind of a shoemaker was Clarke Nichols of Hackleton; but he had the most wonderful apprentice in Northamptonshire. The son of the parish clerk and school-master of Pury, William Carey had what store of letters his father could give. To this he had added the whole of a Latin vocabulary found some how. He was always busier with the structure of plants and insects than of soles and uppers. In Nichols's house he found a Commentary with here and there a Greek word. Of course he was puzzled, but was not to be put down. At Pury lived a learned weaver, Tom Jones; and Carey carefully copied each Greek word as best he could, and carried it for a translation. At sixteen the death of his master transferred him, as a journeyman, to one Mr. Old. The well-known commentator Scott paid pastoral visits in this family. There his eye was struck by "a sensiblelooking lad in his working-apron," and he foretold that he would be "no ordinary character." He who thus foresaw his greatness, was a leading instrument of his conversion. Carey, chiefly through the influence of a fellow-servant, received deep religious impressions. That fruitful fear which leads to efforts after salvation, lay heavily upon his soul. Mr. Scott's preaching was a blessing to him, which he never forgot; and, by slow and dimly lighted steps, he rose out of the pit of despondency into the sunshine of Christian life. He had not long experienced the joy of true religion, before he began to tell of it to others. His neighbors relished the words of the wise journeyman. He was called to one village and another to preach. In the midst of this good work he adopted Baptist views; and Dr. Ryland of Northampton says, that " on the 5th of October, 1783, he baptized a poor journeyman shoemaker in the river Nen, a little beyond Dr. Doddridge's chapel in Northampton." Who, upon the banks of the Nen that day, imagined that the poor youth would win a name on the banks of the Ganges greater than all the celebrities of Northampton? Mr. Old died, and Carey, at nineteen, took a business and a wife. He never was capable of managing the former, and the latter was not to be managed. Not only was she infinitely his inferior, but incapable of understanding his pursuits, or feeling proper respect for his grand character. She was a weight and a tease for him while she lived; leaving a lesson, that men whom Providence marks with gifts above their original position ought to beware how they tie themselves for life to a perpetual reproach. Nothing prospered but his garden. His congregation could not give him as much as would buy clothes. He was long beset with fever and ague. He trudged and toiled to make and sell shoes; but gave up his first "charge," and came to be over a little Baptist flock in the village of Moulton. Here he hoped to do well by taking up a school, the master of which had just left the place. But his genius did not lie in the pedagogue's line any more than in the tradesman's. "When I kept school," |