heat in the vaporous state, or some undefinable gaseous substance whose particles are endued with mutual attraction, and impregnated with a vast amount of heat.

Reasoning, then, from the well-known laws of physical science, it is evident that the subtle condition or state here assumed, if it could exist, would remain permanent and unalterable; for the natural affinity of the substance for heat, gives to it, and maintains it in, this assumed diffused gaseous condition. For if we even admit that from the influence of gravitation, the particles of this gas have a tendency to concentration towards the common centre of gravity of the whole mass, the repulsive element of heat among them would, on the principles of the hypothesis itself, exactly counteract this tendency. Some other agent of force or power must therefore be introduced as a cause of condensation. To suppose that this gaseous medium would throw off heat by radiation, is to suppose that the particles which, according to the hypothesis, have a natural specific tendency to combine with heat, under the given circumstances, have at the same time, a contrary tendency to part with it, or they could not by radiation throw it off. By conduction it cannot escape, as the hypothesis involves no medium of transference; and unless it can escape, no increase of density can occur at the centre. If, then, we are to imagine some substance diffused or expanded to the gaseous state, under certain given circumstances, this resulting medium must then include within itself, whatever, under those conditions, constitutes it what it is: and consequently something extraneous would be required to begin or effect any change.-Wallis' Strictures on the "Vestiges.”

SOMETHING TO BE LEARNED EVERY WHERE.

AN absurd objection has been raised to local histories-that they are only interesting to residents, or those connected with the neighbourhood; as if facts and principles of extensive and enduring importance were not frequently developed during the pursuit of such enquiries as they properly involve.

How, indeed, was it that Cuvier achieved an imperishable name, bringing to light an entirely new world of existences, and restoring to us hundreds of animals, now extinct as living races?

How, but by consenting to become a local historian-by digging in the quarries of Montmâtre, and there conversing with the natural records of creation, in precisely the same spirit which should animate the antiquary in deciphering the monumental remains of art?

Now, what will be said, if we can demonstrate that even in your own fields and gardens, in the immediate neighbourhood of London, you may make similar discoveries? Yet this is not a matter of mere theory: it has actually been done. In a well sunk on Sydenham-common near the railway, was found a tooth belonging to the extinct genus Lophiodon, an animal allied to the tapir, the first that has been discovered in the London basin, although by no means likely under proper vigilance, to prove the last.

A complete analogy obtains between the geological basins of Paris and London, and were the latter explored with half the zeal bestowed upon the examination of the other, would be found abundantly rich in the same interesting class of remains.

It will be contended, probably, that geology forms no part of the business of a topographer. Though this is by no means admitted, let us turn to another department, about which there can be no such dispute-the examination of sepulchral monuments, and especially of brasses. Is it a matter of mere local importance to obtain an insight into the military, civil, and ecclesiastical costumes, and inferentially of the habits and manners of our early ancestors generally? Yet it has been left to the topographer alone, to give a proper character and nomenclature to these things; to shew the esquire and the gentleman in their true colors, and to analyse especially, the complicated and beautiful dresses of our ecclesiastics. Has not all England, if we may not say all Christendom, been lately agitated by the conflict between gown and surplice, whilst all parties have appealed to early precedent as their examples. Meanwhile, the plodding and despised topographer, proceeding with his heel-ball, or his metallic rubber, from church to church, has collected facts that laugh to scorn the squabbles of polemics, and give him an easy conquest in this strife of words. Here is the vera effigies of good old Hugh Johnson, forty-five years vicar of Hackney,

who died in 1618, preaching from a square pulpit, (one of the forms so loudly inveighed against by our modern popery restorers), with a ruff about his neck, and a dress upon his back as little like a surplice, as were his heart-spoken discourses, to the antiquarian effusions of our modern tractarians.

A collection of similar rubbings from all parts of the country would form a pleasing portion of the most interesting and authentic pictorial history of England in existence. The mode of taking them is so simple that a child may do it: it consists simply in laying a sheet of paper flat upon the brass, taking care to fix it securely, and then rubbing it over with a cake of shoemakers' heel-ball, till the impression is sufficiently dark. Those who have any doubt of its practicability and extreme simplicity, may try the experiment by their own fire-sides on the embossed cover of a book, which will give off a very fair fac-simile, even when rubbed over only with a common lead-pencil.-Opening Address at Walworth Institution.

"SHEW ME THY FAITH BY THY WORKS."

“AND this is religion!" exclaimed Charles Stevenson, as he threw himself on a chair in his own room, and shut the door with a violence which accorded with the excited state of his feelings.

Much angry altercation, about some trifling affair, not really worth a moment's consideration, had arisen between his cousins and himself, and had been silenced in an equally angry manner by his uncle. Charles felt that he was treated unjustly, and walked proudly and silently away; and it was not until he was alone that he gave free expression to his indignant feelings.

"And this is religion !" he repeated aloud,—" then I am sure the less one has of it the better. I never met with so selfish and disagreeable a family, and yet they can assume the most sanctified demeanour, and talk so well and so fast on religious subjects! It is such hypocrisy to pretend to be so much better than other people, when, in reality, they are far more unamiable and ill-tempered; I hate such high profession, for it is always associated with the most miserable practice. There is a very fair outside, but all is hollow underneath."

Charles suddenly paused, for just then he thought of his mother. She died while he was very young, but her gentle mien and lovely conduct had always been fondly cherished in his memory, and they seemed at that moment to recur to his recollection more vividly than ever. He remembered the anxiety with which she guided his earliest years-the sweet way in which she taught him the simple hymns of childhood, and the beautiful exemplification in her own life, of those truths which she carefully sought to impress upon his tender mind. And it appeared but as yesterday, since he had knelt beside her dying couch, and listened to the ardent prayer which she breathed to heaven as she folded him in her arms. The glistening eye and beaming smile appeared to pass before his gaze-the tumult of his bosom was hushed- and he could not condemn all religion as heartless, when he remembered how brightly her faith and humility had shone in the hour of sickness and of death. He felt that there must be a reality in real godliness, and forgetting the sad inconsistencies, which often made him doubt this, he longed for the child-like trust which marked the character of his beloved parent. It was not often that Charles felt thus; for his intercourse with professed christians did not extend beyond his uncle's family, and their immediate acquaintance, and he saw but little in that limited circle, to convince him that religion's ways 66 were ways of pleasantness, and that her paths were peace." His uncle was a man of imperious disposition, in whose heart the good seed was choked by the cares of this life, and the acquisition of riches; and his aunt was more conformed to the maxims and fashions of the present world, than was consistent with an avowed attachment to the meek and lowly Saviour. The junior members of the family were accustomed, from habit and education, to observe with reverence the outward forms of religion, and some of them, it is hoped, had learned to "remember their Creator in the days of their youth;" but the moral atmosphere which they breathed, was ill calculated to cherish the blossoms of piety and excellence; and, with the exception of Lucy, the youngest daughter, Charles could not perceive that the motives and actions of his cousins differed materially from his own. It is not therefore strange, that his ideas of religion became gloomy and repulsive, for its noble and elevated principles seemed to him

G

the mere covert of ill-regulated passions, and unamiable conduct. Sceptical thoughts often perplexed his mind, and were mournfully strengthened by the inconsistent lives of those who professed to be guided by the pure principles of christianity. But the memory of his mother retained its precious influence, and the hallowed remembrance of her love and piety, prevented his wandering still further from the Saviour's peaceful fold.

Charles sat lost in reverie over the touching reminiscences of his infant years, when a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the next minute his cousin Lucy entered the room. She had noticed the flushed cheek, and angry glance of Charles, as he left the little party in the parlor, and she came to soothe his ruffled feelings by her gentle sympathy, and to soften the little dispute which had arisen among them. She also brought a letter for him, which had just arrived from his uncle, Mr. Charles Hamilton. This letter, which was written in the kindest and most cheerful strain, contained a very pressing invitation for him to spend a few weeks at his uncle's secluded but lovely parsonage. Charles had not seen this uncle for some years, for the delicate health of Mr. Hamilton's wife prevented his undertaking so long a journey; and Charles had never felt any inclination to become the guest of a humble country minister. He had always heard Mr. Hamilton spoken of as being unusually strict and religious, and had, therefore, been glad to avoid all intercourse with him. But the perusal of this letter changed his feelings, for it expressed such a cordial and affectionate desire for his society, that Charles felt attracted towards his kind relatives, and was willing to become better acquainted with them. Perhaps the little disagreement which had just occurred with his cousins had prepared him to appreciate more fully than he might otherwise have done, their frank and pleasant invitation. The permission of Mr. Stevenson was easily obtained, for although he was rather surprised at the request of Charles, he very willingly complied with it; and with the characteristic ardour of youth, Charles was soon engaged in making active preparations for his departure.

It was at the close of a lovely summer's day, when the rich hues of a gorgeous sunset were gradually fading into the calm tranquillity of an evening sky, that he reached the peaceful