leagues. The inhabitants of the banks of the Apuré, at the confluence of the RioNula, as well as those of the maritime coast, compared this noise to that produced by the discharge of heavy pieces of artillery. But from the junction of the RioNula and the Apuré to the volcano of St. Vincent, the distance is computed at 157 leagues in a direct line. This sound, which certainly was not propagated by the air, must have had its origin very far within the recesses of the earth. Its intensity was scarce more considerable on the coast of the Antilles immediately near the volcano, in full eruption, than it was in the interior of the country. It is unnecessary to multiply these examples. But to menBut to mention a phenomenon which, to Europe, has acquired an historical importance, the list may be closed with the famous earthquake of Lisbon. It occurred the 1st November, 1755; not only the waters of the Swiss lakes and the sea along the coasts of Sweden, were violently agitated, but also those of the ocean around the eastern Antilles. At Martinique, at Antigua, at Barbadoes, where the tide does not usually rise to a height of more than eighteen inches, it rose, on this occasion, suddenly to twenty feet. All these phenomena go to prove that the subterraneous forces are manifested either dynamically by earthquakes, or chemically by volcanic eruptions. They further shew that the action of these forces does not take place superficially in the outer crust of the earth, but passes at immense depths in the interior of our planet, and is propagated through crevices and veins not filled up, which conducts to points of the surface the most remote asunder." Another extract, and we dismiss this book of interesting topics: "The question has," says the author, "been often agitated: What is it that burns in volcanoes? What is it produces the heat by which the earth and metallic ores are fused and mingled together? Modern chemistry replies: That which burns is the earth, the metals, the very alkalies; that is to say, the metalloids of those substances. The solid crust, already oxidized, of the earth separates the atmosphere, rich in oxygen, from the inflammable principles not oxidized, which reside in the interior of our planet. Certain observations which have been made under every zone, in mines and caverns, prove that even at a small depth the heat of the earth is much higher than the mean temperature of the atmosphere at the surface. This remarkable fact is entirely consonant with what we are taught by volcanic phenomena. La Place has even attempted to determine the depth at which the earth might be regarded as a molten mass. Whatever doubt, notwithstanding, due to so great a name, may be entertained respecting the numerical certainty of such a calculation, it is not the less probable that all volcanic phenomena proceed from a single cause, which is, the communication, constant or transient, between the interior and the exterior of our planet. Elastic gases press outwards, through deep fissures, the various substances which are in a state of fusion, and in process of oxidation. Volcanoes are, so to say, the intermittent springs of these terrene substances: the fluid mixture of metals, alkalies, and earths, which are condensed into currents of lava, flow softly and tranquilly, as soon as, hoisted to the surface, they have found an issue. It was even so, according to the Phædon of Plato, that the ancients used to imagine all volcanic eruptions to be emanations from the infernal torrent of Periphlegethon." We have thus endeavored to present the reader with a faithful summary of the most interesting questions, either solved or suggested in this book. The facts and observations will be still found of value to the philosopher, if only surveyed from the point of view attained by physical science since their original publication. For the work is some forty years old; although that conscionable fraternity, the publishersanxious, no doubt, like other fraternities, to deceive the people for their good-seem to be passing it, in England as well as here, in connexion with the late translation, as a production fresh from the octogenarian pen of the author. Of this English version we have made no use ourselves in the passages cited, which are translated from the French one, executed soon after the German edition, and under Humboldt's own inspection. Nor can we commend it to the reader for anything better than the usual presentations of German philosophy in English style. It was not difficult, however, to do justice to the style of Humboldt, and to most of the authors named by the mere plodding of their own countrymen. National jealousy had much to do with this criticism, no doubt. Still, it is not the less probable that Humboldt, in eschewing the metaphysical visions of his native philoso it needed no more than justice to be clear and consecutive. His manner, in this respect, like his maturer education, indeed, is much less German than French. This we should have perhaps enumerated among the elements of his popularity as a writer. Humboldt is, in general philosophy, would swing over into the man of phy, what Goethe was in poetry, Lysing in criticism, and Savigny in jurisprudence. In their several modes of style and statement, these have well been Frenchified Germans. Notwithstanding the improvement in respect of manner, it may, however, be questioned whether this alien and imitative direction is equally favorable to genuineness or profundity of thought. A defect of the latter qualities, and on ground of the cause suggested, is known to have been, in fact, a standing imputation made facts, and measures, and multifarious inquiries, that we ventured to characterize him at the commencement of these pages. The lack of profundity there imputed would thus be explained, without derogation to the natural abilities of the venerable author. For, in any case, in any country, it is only intellects of the highest order that can operate fully, freely, under a foreign system, whether of doctrine or method. But a German, in particular, is nothing, if not mystical. THE SHIPWRECK. A BALLAD. VOL. V. NO. II. PART I. RIGHT off the sandy Cape of May To break the purple sheen of morn, Three mariners tramp along the beach,- For the sea to wash away;- One carries in his hand a scarf, And the third a silver and pearl caskét :- But they think of the body in the surf, GAY was the day when the gallant ship The danger of the faithless sea,- Full freighted with a precious charge, Bright, on the deck, the young maid stood; When, shouting glad, all hailed the land They looked on her alone : Set was the sun, and night begun, With song that cheers brave marineers, Made mirth and jollity : In feast and dance they sped the hours; At midnight stroke the sea awoke, Upsprang the captain and the crew, "We sink! we sink!" they cried, They nothing heard, they nothing knew While from the vessel's side Three oarsmen bold the life-boat pulled, And they took one beside. Black was the sky, and fierce the cry Of tempest and of sea, No man could hark, no man could mark Out over the raging sea. Swift from the cabin they'd hurried her, With stifling hands they silenced her, And wicked threats beside: The boat was lowered, and, stoutly oared, She swept the foaming tide. Out over the sea the mariners three The life-boat pulled away; Sink down amid the spray ;— Fast in the bottom of the boat The prize lay bound and still: The sea burst o'er, behind and before,- An hour the raging tempest blew, Then fled, and all was still : All save the moaning of the deep, Where heaves the brine its snowy line Right on the Cape of May, Where the proud sea beats sullenly The sandy cape of May. The mariners three, right lustily, Pulled toward the land amain: Right through a rift of inky cloud And showed the land, and showed the boat, O woe! for mariners, whose hearts For lust of flesh, for lust of will, For lust of ruddy gold; Their dreadful deeds, (which God well heeds), Be for a warning told! They saw the land, which lay at hand, They saw the white surf line, A cottage on the leafy shore, A window's cheerful shine ;--- Bound in the bottom of the boat, The mariners looked, the mariners longed, (The devil would have his will) ; Each claimed her with a dreadful oath, And swore to have his will. The mariners looked, the mariners longed, They saw the cottage on the shore, And felt a deadly fear; They cast it in the plunging deep, Slowly the boat slid up the strand And they thought the dead raised up its head, |