I. JANUARY.

Then came old January, wrapped well In many weeds to keep the cold away;

Yet did he quake and quiver like to queil;

And blowe his nayles, to warm them if he may:
For they were numbed with holding all the day
An hatchet keene, with which he felled wood,

And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray.-SPENSER.

THIS month derives its name from JANUS, a deity represented by the Romans with two faces looking in opposite directions, and typical of the past and the future. JANUS was the god of gates and avenues, and held a key in one hand, and a rod in the other, symbolical of his opening and ruling the year. This month is chosen as the commencement of the year, in preference to March, when the ancient year began, probably because the lengthening of the days being the chief cause of the return of Spring, may therefore be considered in reality as its commencement. The time of the renewal of nature varies greatly in different countries, but in our own there is certainly less appearance of such a change in the month of January than at any other period; for 66 as the days begin to lengthen, the frost begins to strengthen." The weather during this month is frequently clear, cold, and bright, and the beautiful effects of hoarfrost are often sufficient to give animation to a landscape, which would otherwise look blank and dreary. Every branch and spray is fringed with delicate crystals, sparkling in the sun's rays with the lustre of diamonds; and there is not a single blade of grass, or a plant, however insignificant, but may become, when adorned with these radiant gems, the object of our highest wonder and admiration. The very weeds which we are accustomed to pass unnoticed, or to tread beneath our feet,

Now shine

Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad, And fledged with icy feathers, nod superb. All those effects which are produced by the transient morning dew of summer, are now exhibited, and still more strikingly, in the brilliant hoar-frost; and were it not that the constant recurrence of the wondrous scene has taught us to look on it with some degree of indifference, we could not fail to be struck with feelings of admiration and delight. In the remembrance that Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God,

such a scene is well calculated to inspire us with enlarged ideas of the power of that wonder-working Hand, which, whether in the vast or in the minute, is equally faultless in performance, inexhaustible in resource, infinite in variety, and unwearied in operation.

The examination of a blade of grass, or even of a spider's web, laden with this frozen dew, will prove how inimitably beautiful, and passing human art to imitate, are the least of the works of God.

The beautiful hoar-frost is nevertheless only one of the effects of the absence of heat during this season of the year. As the cold increases, the surfaces of rivers and lakes become fixed, and converted apparently into floors of marble, and during this change the water expands, and in its solid state occupies more space, at the same time that it becomes lighter than before. This remarkable circumstance appears at first sight to contradict the general law of the expansion of bodies by heat, and their contraction by cold, that is, by the diminution of heat; but the difficulty is lessened by considering that water does contract by cold, according to this law, within a certain limit, and that having reached this limit, and become condensed in the greatest degree of which it is susceptible by

"by which the crystalline form of the solid which is about to be produced occupies more space than the particles in the liquid form.' "Now supposing," says Mr. Tomlinson, "that water regularly contracted from its liquid to its solid state, it is quite clear that a certain bulk of ice would occupy less space than the bulk of water which formed it. Its weight would be, in short, bulk for bulk, greater than that of water, and it would consequently sink; and our streams in winter, instead of the superficial crust of ice which covers them, and which is easily thawed, would become one solid mass of ice, destroying all that life with which the waters teem, and would take a whole summer to become again liquid, since water is so imperfect a conductor of heat."

One effect of this property of water to expand during the process of congelation is to diminish the height of mountains; for the rain and melted snow remaining in their cavities and fissures during the summer season, become frozen, and seeking to occupy a greater space than before, force out masses of rock with irresistible power, and send them thundering down to the valley beneath. Another, and a generally useful effect, is the preparation of the earth to receive its destined seed, in consequence of the crumbling to pieces of the heavy clods of the field, by the expansion of the frozen moisture within them.

At the time when the frost is severe enough to produce these effects, how beautiful, how elegantly diversified, are the forms it assumes on the windows of our apartments, where we may sometimes fancy a resemblance to the fretted roof and clustered columns of some ancient building, or trace what may seem "the sparkling trees and shrubs of fairy-land," or seek in vain, among its thousand capricious shapes, "the likeness of some object seen before." These beautiful appearances are due to the condensation of moisture from the atmosphere of our dwellings, on the cold panes of glass, and its subsequent expansion into crystals. The same kind of starry crystals are found in the frozen water of the clouds, or snow, which forms a covering for the earth of unrivalled purity, and affords protection from the extreme severity of the frost to the plants which lie beneath it.

But while the plants are thus protected from the rigour of the season, how fares it with the minstrels of the grove? where do they find a substitute for the leafy shelter of the trees, and how are they able to supply their wants, when the rivers are frost-bound, and the land covered with a fleecy deluge? Doubtless when the frost is of long continuance, thousands of them die of cold and hunger, or become the prey of man, as they venture near to shelter themselves in the warm neighbourhood of his dwelling. Blackbirds, thrushes, and fieldfares, nestle together in banks, and under hedges, and frequent the vicinity of towns. Larks find shelter in the warm stubble, and tribes of small birds courageously surround our houses, and take possession of our farm-yards, in search of their precarious sustenance. The yellow-hammer, the chaffinch, but especially the audacious sparrow, beset our path, and seem to claim a share in the food with which we are so abundantly supplied; while the friendly redbreast seeks and finds a welcome everywhere. Redwings, fieldfares, skylarks, &c., find a partial supply in wet meadows, and along the water's edge, while these remain unfrozen. The ringdove subsists on ivy-berries; water-fowl quit the frozen marshes for the neighbourhood of rapid streams, where the swiftly-passing-current escapes its icy fetters, and leaves its richly embroidered banks to display the wonders of the mighty agent. Sea-birds

also leave the shore, and frequent the larger rivers, while nearer home we observe the effect of the severe weather in the sad and half-petrified appearance of the cattle, which are seen creeping to the corner which seems best adapted to shelter them from the keen air, and waiting in mournful silence for their customary supply of fodder. Many animals remain in a deathlike state of torpor, during the winter, and many others sleep away the greater part of the season, receiving nourishment from the fat which they had acquired in summer. Thus it happens that the bear, marmot, &c., come out in the spring greatly emaciated, but during summer they gain so much in bulk as to be able to undergo another season of torpor.

Intense cold and deficiency of food embolden the fox, the weasel, the polecat, and other predatory quadrupeds to attack the hen-roost and the farm yard. The fearful attacks of hungry wolves are happily known to us only by tradition in our own country, or by the reports of travellers in Alpine lands. Even the timid hare approaches the abodes of man to feed on the garden vegetables. Rabbits greatly injure the young trees by nibbling off the bark as high as they can reach. The tit-mouse sceks food in the thatched coverings of houses and walls, and the farmer keeps his early lambs and calves within doors, tending them as carefully and as gently as his own children.

The vegetable kingdom too has put on winter dress or retired to winter quarters. The roots of herbaceous plants are safe under ground, ready at the return of warmth to throw up their young shoots. The soft and tender parts of shrubs and trees, are wrapped up in hard buds; the larger kinds of which, such as those of the horse-chesnut, the sycamore, and the lime, are covered with a sort of resin which resists the most intense cold. Sometimes, however, a tree which is less securely guarded than its fellows by those kind provisions of nature, has its juices frozen, and it then spilts asunder by the formation of the ice, and perishes. By the end of the month the leaves of the woodbine appear ready to expand; the winter aconite and bear's foot are often in flower, and in sheltered situations the red dead-nettle and groundsel. The snow-drop is preparing its modest bell and the catkins of the hazel begin to open.

On mild days the slug or shell-less snail is moving about to the injury of the young wheat and garden plants. The bodies of these animals are covered with slime, as the whale is with blubber; this non-conducting substance enables them to withstand the

cold.

The frost suspends most of the out-door work of the farmer. His team can now move over the frozen fields as easily as on the high-road; he, therefore, carries out manure to his fields; or he lops his timber, or repairs hedges. The labourer warms himself in the barn by the constant use of the flail; or when work is over, he retires to his snug chimney corner, and if honest and industrious, he need not fear the want to his family of "meat, clothes, and fire." But still there is no season of the year in which charity is more efficacious than in this. Those who from their warm and snug retreats hear the cold wind without, should think upon their poorer fellow-creatures and relieve their necessities.

Rivers and canals are no longer the high-roads for watermen and bargemen: these are out of employ. ment, while troops of skaters and sliders usurp the domain of the boat and the barge.

It was at such a season as this that the pious Krummacher composed his WINTER LAY of which we offer the following translation.

Ah! why reposest thou, so pale,
So very still in thy white veil,
Thou cherish'd Father-land ?
Where are the joyous lays of spring,
The varied hue of summer's wing,
Thy glowing vestment bland?
But half-attired, thou slumberest now,
No flocks to seek thy pastures go,

O'er vales or mountains steep:
Silent is every warbler's lay,
No more the bee hums through the day,
Yet art thou fair in sleep!

On all thy trees, on every bough,
Thousands of crystals sparkle now,

Where'er our eyes alight;

Firm on the spotless robe we tread,
Which o'er thy beauteous form is spread,
With glittering hoar-frost bright.
Our Father kind, who dwells above,
For thee this garment pure hath wove,
He watches over thee.

Therefore in peace, thy slumber take,
Our Father will the weary wake,

New strength, new light to see.
Soon to the breath of spring's soft sighs,
Delighted thou again wilt rise,

In wond'rous life so fair.

I feel those sighs breathe o'er the plain, Dear Nature, then rise up again

With flower-wreaths in thy hair.

MIGRATION OF HERRINGS.

THE great winter rendezvous of the herring is within the In the spring, this mighty army begins to put itself in arctic circle, and there they spend many months of the year. motion. We distinguish the united shoals by that name, because the word herring comes from the German heer, an army, and expresses their number. They begin to appear off the Shetland Isles in April and May; these are only the forerunners of the great shoal which comes in June; and their appearance is marked by the numbers of birds, as gannet, and other sea-fowl, which come to prey upon them. When the main body appears, its breadth and depth are such as to alter the appearance of the very ocean. It is divided into distinct columns of five or six miles in length. and three or four in breadth, and they drive the water before them with a kind of rippling: sometimes they sink, for the space of ten or fifteen minutes, and then rise again to the surface and in fine weather reflect a variety of splendid colours, like a field of the most precious gems; in which light this gift of Providence ought in very truth to be viewed.

The first check this army meets with, in its journey south, is from the Shetland Isles, which divide it into two parts; one wing takes to the eastern, the other to the western, shores of Great Britain, and fill every bay and creek with their numbers; others pass on towards Yarmouth, the great and ancient mart of herrings; they then pass through the British Channel, and after that disappear. The other wing, which takes a westerly direction, after presenting themselves at the Hebrides, where the great stationary fishery is, proceed to the north of Ireland, where they meet with a second interruption, and are obliged to divide again; one party takes the west of Ireland, and is soon imperceptible in the immensity of the Atlantic; but the other shoal passing into the Irish Sea feeds the inhabitants of its coasts. These last are often capricious in their motions, and do not, like the grand body, show an invariable attachment to their old haunts. The object which induces this yearly migration, is the spawning, or depositing of their eggs.

Herrings are found, also, in vast shoals, on the coasts of America, as low down as Carolina. Chesapeak Bay is inundated with them. We find them also in Kamtschatka, and they probably visit Japan. The Dutch are passionately fond of pickled herrings, and the first boat that arrives, is entitled to a prize. The herring dies as soon as it is taken The Dutch call a merry-andrew, pickle-herring, and from out of the water; hence the proverb as dead as a herring. this, also, we borrow some colloquial expressions.

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merce; and that after the invention of ships, they were still retained for the transportation of soldiers and of heavy

burdens."

There are some passages in the Bible which allude to the floating of wood. 1 Kings v. 9: "My servants shall bring them down from Lebanon unto the sea; and I will convey them by sea in floats unto the place that thou shalt appoint me." 2 Chron. ii. 16: "And we will cut wood out of Lebanon, as much as thou shalt need; and we will bring it to thee in floats by sea to Joppa, and thou shalt carry it up to Jerusalem." These passages relate to a compact between Solomon and Hiram, king of Tyre, by which the latter was to cause cedars for the building of the Temple to be cut down on the western side of Mount Lebanon, above Tripoli, and to be floated to Jaffa or Joppa, probably along by the sea shore.

as possible. This great undertaking, at first laughed at, was completed by his successor, René Arnoul, in 1566. The wood was thrown into the water in single trunks, and suffered to be driven in that manner by the current to Crevant, a small town on the river Yonne; where each timber-merchant drew out his own, which he had previously marked, and, after it was dry, formed it into floats that were transported from the Yonne to the Seine, and thence to the capital. By this method large quantities of timber were conveyed to the populous towns.

A similar mode of transporting timber from the central parts of Germany to the great towns or to the sea ports, is practised at the present day. Mr. Planché, in his Descent of the Danube, says:—

But it is in Germany that the transportation of timber by means of floats has been most extensively carried on, partly on account of its noble forests, and partly through the possession of the river Rhine. There is evidence of floating of timber-rafts in Germany as far back as the year 1410. A letter from the Landgrave of Thuringia says, that on account of the scarcity of wood that existed in their territory, the landgraves had so far lessened the toll usually paid on the river Sale as far as Weissenfels, that a Rhenish florin only was demanded for floats brought on that river to Jena, and two Rhenish stivers for those carried to Weissenfels; but the proprietors of the floats were bound to be answerable for any injury occasioned to the bridges.

In 1438, Hans Munzer, an opulent citizen of Freyberg, with the assistance of the then burgo-masters, put a float of wood upon the river Mulda, which runs past the city, in order that it might be conveyed thither for the use of the inhabitants: this seems to imply that such a practice was not then uncommon. When the town of Aschersleben was adorned with a new church, in 1495, the timber used for its construction was transported on the Elbe, from Dresden to Acken, and from thence on the Achse to the place of its destination. In the year 1564, there was a floatmaster in Saxony, who was obliged to give security to the amount of four hundred florins; so that the business of floating must, at that time, have been of considerable importance.

When the citizens of Paris had used all the timber growing near the city, the enormous expense of land carriage, led to the suggestion of an improved mode of transport. John Rouvel, a citizen and merchant, in the year 1549, proposed to transport timber, bound together, along rivers which were not navigable for large vessels. With this view he made choice of the forests in the woody district of Morvant, which belonged to the government of Nivernois; and as several small streams and rivulets had their sources there, he endeavoured to convey into them as much water

ment, of a boat. A very respectable promenade can be made from one end to the other, and two or three huts erected upon them afford shelter in bad weather, and repose at night.

A

The

But the anonymous author of An Autumn near the Rhine gives a more detailed account of the timber-rafts of Germany, of which we will avail ourselves. little below Andernach, on the banks of the Rhine, the little village of Namedy appears on the left bank, under a wooded mountain. The Rhine here forms a little bay, where the pilots are accustomed to unite together the small rafts of timber, floated down the tributary rivers into the Rhine, and to construct enormous floats, which are navigated to Dordrecht and sold. These machines have the appearance of a floating village, composed of twelve or fifteen little wooden huts, on a large platform of oak and deal timber. They are frequently eight or nine hundred feet long, and sixty or seventy in breadth. rowers and workmen sometimes amount to seven or eight hundred, superintended by pilots and a proprietor, whose habitation is superior in size and elegance to the rest. The raft is composed of several layers of trees, placed one on the other, and tied together. A large raft draws not less than six or seven feet water. Several smaller ones are attached to it, by way of protection, besides a string of boats, loaded with anchors and cables, and used for the purpose of sounding the river, and going on shore. The domestic economy of an East Indiaman is hardly more complete. Poultry, pigs, and other animals, are to be found on board, and several butchers are attached to the suite. A well-supplied boiler is at work night and day in the kitchen. The dinner-hour is announced by a basket stuck on a pole, at which signal the pilot gives the word of command, and the workmen run from all quarters to receive their allowances.

The consumption of provisions in the voyage to Holland is almost incredible, sometimes amounting to forty or fifty thousand pounds of bread, eighteen or twenty thousand pounds of fresh meat, a considerable quantity of salt meat, and butter, vegetables, &c., in proportion. The expenses are so great, that a capital of three or four hundred thousand florins is considered necessary to undertake a raft. Their navigation is a matter of considerable skill, owing to the abrupt windings, the rocks and shallows of the river; and some years ago the secret was thought to be monopolized by a boatman of Rudesheim and his son.

Dr. Granville, in his Journey to St. Petersburgh, has also given a description of this remarkable floating

timber village, which he has also illustrated by an engraving.

The subject of our frontispiece is the first beginning of such a raft. The bridge is called Pont d'Alto, and is situated near Agordo, in the Venetian Lombardy district of Belluno. Under this curious wooden bridge flows a small stream, which empties itself into a larger. The surface of this stream is seen to be covered with scattered pieces of timber, which have been brought down from forests near the banks, and precipitated into the stream. When these timbers, whose number receives constant accessions in the journey, reach a particular spot, they are all bound together, to form one continuous raft, and in that form floated to the place of their destination.

A DISCOURSE ON GEOLOGY.

I.

NATURE OF GEOLOGY.

"CURIOSITY," it has been well observed, "is one of the most distinctive faculties of the human mind; one of those which establish a marked separation between man, and the rest of the animal creation;"

For of all

The inhabitants of earth, to man alone
Creative Wisdom gave to lift his eye
To truth's eternal measures.

But though curiosity, or the love of investigation, is one of man's best faculties when directed to an

end really worthy of him, it is capable of being misdirected and misapplied. It becomes, therefore, of paramount importance that this principle, so active in all intelligent minds, should be guided into channels, where it may not only find free scope for its exercise, but the most exalted ends for its ultimate object. Such are "the sacred paths of nature and of science." The grandest discoveries, and the inventions of the greatest use to mankind,—the sublime truths of astronomy, electro-magnetism, the steam-engine, the telescope, the microscope, are all the result of long-continued research, ennobled by their object; and the same principle is still stimulating us to extend the range of our knowledge, and to fathom the hidden mysteries of nature.

In modern times, science appeared to have made such great progress, that we scarcely could have expected any new track would have been opened equally rich in discoveries with those disclosed by the telescope or the microscope. Yet the investigation of the ground we daily tread under foot, has, during the last half century, in the hands of Smith, Cuvier, and a host of other scientific men, become a science peculiary fertile in novelties, not only deeply interesting to the geologist, but strikingly attractive to all who look with wonder and curiosity on the visible works of the Creator.

Geology, indeed, may be regarded as a science necessarily dependant on the advanced state of the natural sciences; for its conclusions have only been established by these means, and it can scarcely be said to have existed as a science until chemistry, zoology, botany, and mechanics, were applied to the explanation of the phenomena it presents. A general acquaintance with science is, therefore, of the greatest possible advantage to the geological student. Yet, nevertheless, to those unpossessed of these acquirements, geology may form a highly engaging pursuit; for it is a science of observation, and is directed to objects immediately within our reach,— to the rocks and cliffs on the shore; to the beds exposed to our view in the excavations of a road;

to the very pebbles scattered in our path *,-all of which will derive an infinitely higher interest, if regarded with reference to the phenomena of geology, and to those changes which have been instrumental in imparting to them their actual form, or present arrangement.

Sir John Herschel tells us, that geology, in the magnitude and sublimity of the objects of which it treats, undoubtedly ranks in the scale of the sciences next to astronomy. To those who are in some measure acquainted with the immensity of the field into which astronomy guides her votaries, but to whom geology is as yet a sealed book," this assertion may appear to assign too exalted a station to the latter science. The distances treated of in astronomy are so immense, and the time required for the completion of some of the celestial cycles so vast, that they elude the grasp of our comprehension : "What, then, is there in geology," may such inquire, "to compete with the myriads of years to which astronomy directs our attention?" To this the geologist will reply, that by careful researches into the rocks and beds of the earth, we learn that periods approaching to, if not equalling the myriads of years of the astronomer, have apparently been required for the accomplishment of all the changes. on the surface of the globe. And if geology may yield to astronomy in the vastness of the space over which it ranges, and in the former science our views are confined to the observation of only a limited portion of one small planet, the indications it displays of the Mighty Hand that rules the universe, are scarcely less striking, and perhaps fully as impressive, from their capability of being brought more immediately under our own inspection.

The difference between the sciences of astronomy and geology may be compared to that of the discoveries effected by the telescope and the microscope:-the one reveals to us objects of vast magnitude concealed from us by their immense distance; the other discloses objects hidden from us by their almost incomprehensible minuteness.

Geology shows us that "the configuration of the earth's surface has been re-modelled again and again; mountain chains have been raised or sunk; valleys have been formed, again filled up, and then re-excavated; sea and land have changed places. Yet throughout all these revolutions, animal and vegetable life has been sustained: these changes in the condition of the earth having been accompanied by corresponding changes in organic bodies, adapting them to those altered conditions ;-the succession of living beings having been continued by the introduction into the earth from time to time of new plants and animals, evidently admirably adapted for successive states of the globe t."

"If we

It being, then, an ascertained fact, that we repeatedly see the commencement of new races, we are obliged again and again to have recourse to a supreme Intelligence and a creative power. examine the marine remains of the strata, we find that whole genera of shells, which in the present seas are most abundant in species, were not in existence till after the chalk was deposited. Other genera again originated about the middle of the series, and soon became extinct, being represented by no species in the Tertiary strata, that is, the strata above the chalk. These new creations supplied the place of other races which perished; for some genera are peculiar to the lower groups of rocks, not a single

The author has, not unfrequently, met with well preserved fossils among the pebbles of a garden gravel walk LYELL, Address to Geological Society.