cipal reservoir that supplies the rivers on its surface. Mr. Kirby proceeds to support his hypothesis, by showing that the waters of the Mosaic deluge could not be supplied from any inferior source.

"If, allowing for inequalities and elevations, you deduct two-fifths from the body of water which would have prevailed above the tops of all the mountains 15 cubits, and as the highest peak of the Himmalah range is 5 miles above the level of the sea, this would require a sphere of waters inclosing the whole globe as its nucleus, of 5 miles in depth above the level of the sea. But a deluge of rain for 40 days and 40 nights, over the whole globe, would fall infinitely short of the amount of water required to cover it to

this height. The mean quantity of rain that now falls upon the earth in a whole year, is short of three feet, there must therefore have been an outbreak of waters from a source which could supply all that was necessary to accomplish the will of the Almighty, and make the earth itself a ruin, as well as sweep off its inhabitants; and where shall we look for this, but to the abyss that coucheth beneath the earth,* whose fountains, as the sacred historians tell us, were broken up."

Mr. Kirby next proceeds to inquire what has been said in Scripture on the subject of subterranean animals. He brings forward a passage of the Apocalypse, where the creatures under the earth are distinguished from those in the sea:- "And every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying,-Blessing, and honour, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."-" There is also," he observes, "another place in Scripture, which, though highly metaphorical, seems to point, if rightly interpreted, to subterranean animals, and even a particular description of them. The passage I allude to, is in the xlivth Psalm :-- Though thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, and covered us with the shadow of death.' The place of dragons, and the shadow of death, here mean the same thing-the hidden or subterranean world. In another psalm David couples dragons and abysses." Mr. Kirby next proceeds to inquire what is meant by dragons, by which he understands the Saurian race. The typical animal, or the dragon proper of Scripture, is undoubtedly a Saurian, especially the amphibious ones, such as the crocodile and its affinities. These are the animals that he conjectures may not improbably be still in existence in the subterranean ocean; and this will sufficiently account for their never having been seen, except in a fossil state. Mr. Kirby then produces the example of one Saurian still in existence, that is perfectly subterranean-the Proteus anguinus, concerning which animal there is so much that is curious and interesting in Sir H. Davy's posthumous work, the Consolations in Travel: and he observes, all the circumstances above stated, being duly weighed, and especially the discovery of a species in the depth of the earth, related to one of the fossil ones, I trust that my hypothesis of a subterranean metropolis for the saurian, and perhaps other reptiles, will not be deemed so improbable and startling as may at first sight appear. At the same time I would by no means be thought to contend that none of these animals are extinct, but solely that all may not be so, and that their never having been found in a recent state, may have arisen from the peculiar circumstances of their situation.'

* Dr. Brinkley says, "The earth, upon an average, through its whole sphere, has twice the density of granite, or about five times that of water. Therefore it cannot be a hollow shell, as some have formerly supposed; nor can its internal parts be occupied by central fire or water. The solid parts must greatly exceed the fluid parts, and the probability is, that it is a solid mass throughout, composed of substances more ponderous the deeper we go."-See Paley's Nat. Theology, cap. XXII.

This is a delightful day-dream, so to us it appears, of an ingenious and philosophic mind; and it is also the result of the endeavours of a truly religious and devout feeling, to vindicate the authority of Scripture, and to reconcile the discoveries of science with the written word of God. But there are some difficulties that arise to intercept our belief; for, as Mr. Kirby observes, the Hebrew word, sometimes interpreted dragons, is also at others, very properly translated whales, sea-calves, serpents, and sharks: and, secondly, the fossil specimens of the Saurian tribe which we possess, point to an age far too remote to be included in the late catastrophe of the Mosaic deluge. There are difficulties, no doubt, that meet us in Mr. Mantell's and other geologists' supposition of an age of reptiles, when the Saurian monsters were the mighty masters of the primeval animal kingdom; when the megalosauros was the monarch of the antediluvian world, and when under the pressure of a thick and heavy atmosphere, and on a wilderness of lakes, and fens, and morasses, amid forests of gigantic reeds and arborescent ferns, his mailed and plated nobles, of all forms and sizes, accompanied by their flying footmen the pterodactyles, went snorting, bellowing, and basking, courting their unwieldy and hideous wives, devouring their faithful and loving subjects, and presenting a kind of life that is now only realized in an Asiatic pashalik, or, peradventure, in the foul and loathsome recesses of an Egyptian harem. But we are convinced that the science of geology is not sufficiently advanced to enable us to see our way at present through these subjects; and whenever it does, we are as fully persuaded that over the disembowelled caverns of the earth, and through its interior recesses, and on the fossil tombs of its departed tenants, the faithful Word of Scripture, like a bright and constant star, will emerge in its primæval brilliancy from the clouds that cover it, and appear shining in the unsullied majesty of truth.

We had noted down a great many very curious and interesting subjects, most learnedly discussed in Mr. Kirby's treatise, which we meant to have presented in a convenient and brief form to our readers; but it would demand a space far larger than we have to spare; and perhaps we should not do justice to a composition that is sufficiently attractive in itself to demand a careful and continuous perusal.* We shall therefore turn, as we approach our conclusion, to that part of the treatise in the second volume which is appropriated to the consideration of instinct. The chief object which Mr. Kirby has in view, is not to define its limits, to account for its varieties, or to exhibit its powers, but to trace its origin or cause, and taking it out of the hand of the materialist, to vindicate the interposition of the Deity. With regard to truly instinctive actions (he says) they invariably follow the development of the organization-are neither the result of instruction, nor of observation and experience; but the action of some external agency upon the organization, which is fitted by the Omniscient

*We allude to such subjects as the discourse on minim animals, vol. i. pp. 152160; on coral formations, pp. 184-187; on aggregate animals, p. 220; on plant.. like animals, pp. 232 and 350; on hybernating animals, p. 289; on cuttle fish, p. 313; on the eye-worm in the perch, p. 353; and in vol. ii. on the moulting of the cray-fish, p. 52; on the kangaroo, p. 175; on the pelican, p. 196; on the arachnideans, p. 297; on ants, p. 343; on the salamander, p. 424. These subjects, with many others, will amply reward the curiosity of the intelligent student. Indeed, Mr. Kirby's and Dr. Roget's volumes will be indispensable to the future naturalist. Dr. Prout's and Dr. Kidd's also are very valuable, and will remain solid monuments of their respective attainments and science.

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Creator to respond to its action.' He then considers whether the Deity acts mediately or intermediately on the instinct of the animal and having concluded the latter, through whom and he proposes a belief, "that the powers which he made appear synonymous with the physical cherubim of Scripture, may be the intermediate agents which by their action on plants and animals, produce every physical development, and instinctive operation." Does it seem incongruous, he asks, if these powers, light, heat, electricity, and air, or any modification of them, upon which every animal depends for life and breath, and nutrition and growth, should be employed by the Deity to excite and direct them in their instinctive operations?' or, in other words, the instincts have their beginning in consequence of the action of an intermediate physical cause upon the organization of the animal. We consider this hypothesis * as not discreditable to Mr. Kirby as a philosopher, while it is what we should have expected from him as a divine. Turning from the cause or origin, to the manner in which it acts, and the phenomena it exhibits, in order to determine the precise import of the term, it must not be forgotten,t "that the word instinct brings together a number of facts into one class by the assertion of a common ground, the nature of which ground it determines negatively only; i. e. the word does not explain what this common ground is: but simply indicates that there is such a ground, and that it is different in mind from that in which the responsible and consciously voluntary actions of men originate. Thus, in its true and primary import, instinct stands in antithesis to reason." And we fully feel the necessity of making that distinction between reason and understanding or intellect, on which Mr. Coleridge and other writers have so emphatically dwelt; and the ignorance of which has, as he said, led to the perplexity and contradictory statements into which so many meritorious naturalists and popular writers on natural history have fallen in on this subject. Now, as the same writer observes, no one, except as a figure of speech, ever speaks of an animal reason; but that many animals possess a share of understanding, perfectly distinguishable from mere in

* The late Dr. Darwin, as well as many other naturalists, have attempted to trace the motive and cause of the instinctive action: and many fanciful and ingenious hypotheses have been started on the subject. In considering the striking examples of the power of instinct, we must not forget the wonderful sensibility and acuteness of the nervous system in animals. The eagle when so high in his azure dominion' as to appear only a speck, can descry a small bird, or animal, on the ground; the camel can smell water at a great distance; but there are instances of instinct going beyond what can be presumed from any mere fineness or delicacy of the sensitive nature: as in animals, like cats, finding their way back, when carried away from home, confined in a carriage, and in the dark, and removed a considerable distance. Mr. Coleridge calls irritability the proper seat of instinct.

+ See Mr. Coleridge's Aids to Reflection, p. 235.

How judiciously has Dr. Paley drawn his example of the instinctive action, and how felicitously is it expressed. Moths and butterflies seek out for their eggs those precise situations and substances in which the offspring caterpillar will find its appropriate food. That dear caterpillar the parent butterfly must never see. There are

no experiments to prove that she would retain any knowledge of it, if she did. How shall we account for her conduct? I do not mean for her art and judgment in selecting and securing a maintenance for her young, but for the impulse upon which she acts. What should induce her to exert any art, or judgment, or choice, about the matter?" The undisclosed grub, the animal which she is destined not to know, can hardly be the object of a particular affection. If we deny the influence of instinct, there is nothing therefore left to her but that of which her nature seems incapable, an abstract anxiety for the general preservation of the species; a kind of patriotism, a solicitude lest the butterfly race should cease from the creation.' 2 H

stinct, we all allow. Likewise, we distinguish various degrees of understanding, and even discover from inductions supplied by the zoologists, that the understanding appears (as a general rule) in an inverse proportion to the instinct. We hear little or nothing of the instinct of the halfreasoning elephant,* and as little of the understanding of the caterpillars and butterflies. But reason is wholly denied equally to the highest as well as lowest brutes, otherwise it must be wholly attributed to them, and with it, therefore, self-consciousness and personality or moral being. The understanding of the higher brutes has only organs of outward sense, and consequently material objects only; but man's understanding has likewise an organ of inward sense, and therefore the power of acquainting itself with invisible realities, or spiritual objects. This organ is his reason. Again, the understanding and experience may exist without reason; but reason cannot exist without understanding. Under this distinction we should observe practically on the subject, that the existence and welfare of the animal creation is entrusted jointly to their instinct and understanding, each bestowed in various degrees; that the instinctive faculty is by no means unchangeable or infallible, but, on the other hand, it sometimes varies, and sometimes falls into mistake and error, as in the instance which Mr. Kirby gives of the flesh-fly mistaking the blossom of the stapelia for carrion, the hen a piece of chalk for an egg; and he may add the instance given by Dr. Roget, of the vulture mistaking the skin of an animal stuffed with hay for the carcase. Secondly, as Mr. Coleridge observes, a great share of one, does not necessarily infer a proportionate increase of the other; and thirdly, it is not possible accurately to define their exact limits, though we acknowledge their separate existence; or to follow that sinuous and variable line, along which they wind one into the other, or catch the first dawning streaks of intellect, as they rise in faint flashes above the brute instinctive mass. One fact seems to be established-that animals possess and profit by the powers of memory, as strongly shown in the horse and ass; as in the greyhound and other dogs; that they learn much from their close communication with man ;t and that (subject to some exceptions) the gregarious animals, such as the bee and the ant, evince a superiority of intellectual power over the solitary and secluded. Among the former insects there is found a social sympathy, a mental intelligence, a division of labour, a community of interest, a diversity of rank, a sagacity in overcoming difficulties, and a sacrifice of the present to the future and, as in the instance of the Amazon ant, an alteration of pursuits and habits, consequential on a change of external circumstances-an enjoyment of a kind of dignified repose from toil, when the community or corporation was powerful enough to substitute a slavelabour for their own, from the captives they took in war; and, lastly, a

*The elephant is not known to exhibit in his wild state any superior sagacity, though by a strong poetic metaphor called 'half-reasoning' when in captivity; whereas the fox, whose astuteness and policy are quite proverbial in the forest, when in bondage is known to be the most stupid and unteachable of all animals. No one ever heard of a learned fox. The wolf also, ceasing to be savage, becomes stupid..

† A poodle-dog, trained up by Professor Blumenbach at Gottingen, not only hatched the eggs of the hen with all the mother's care and patience, but attended the chickens afterwards, and found food for them. Mr. Coleridge knew a Newfoundlanddog who watched and guarded a family of young children with all the intelligence of a nurse, during their walks. See the Friend, vol. i. p. 268. We may add some of Mr. Ducrow's horses to these examples; and some examples given in Mr. Jesse's interesting volumes of Gleanings.

friendly disposition gradually taking place of their original enmity towards their subjects, and showing itself in every way, except granting them their freedom. To arrive at any just and satisfactory results on these inquiries, demands most accurate and extensive habits of observation, and most cautious and sound principles of induction. Nature never acts by line and rule she has, what Cicero calls, her insatiable variety. The field of her operations is almost boundless, and the manner in which her gigantic labo. ratory is carried on, is often too vast for our comprehension, too complicated for our dissection. How very few of her final causes do we know among the numbers that exist. How can we tell whether the ends she has i view are near or remote; single or associated, as we follow the continuous line of the means she uses, through their long and prospective progress. These observations are not said in discouragement, but in caution; the richer and more variegated the field of inquiry, the greater should be our industry, and the more satisfactory will be our success; őτov «λeiwv KÓTOS TOλV KÉρdos. And we must never forget the sound remark of Dr. Paley, that it is a mistake to suppose, in reasoning from the appearances of nature, that the imperfections of our knowledge proportionally affects the certainty of our conclusion; for in many cases it does not affect it at all. If pursued, as Mr. Kirby has pursued this and all the other congenial subjects, with an intelligent mind, and with an honest and good heart, we shall not only be richly rewarded when we succeed, but compensated even when we fail; and we shall adopt with him, as the interpreter of nature, the only correct method of investigation, ut neque relligio ulla sine sapientiâ suscipienda sit; neque ulla, sine relligione, probanda sapientia.'

DIARY OF A LOVER OF LITERATURE.
(Continued from vol. III. p. 574.)

1810.

July 27. Read Mr. Copleston's attack on the Edinburgh Reviewers. Had he not been seduced, by the example of his opponents, into a ridiculous attempt at fine writing, he might have inflicted a deep wound; for they have laid themselves open, in some of their Latin criticisms and emendations, by an affectation of erudition which they do not possess. What he remarks on the danger of any leading principle gaining in speculation an exclusive hold on the attention, as applied to the wealth of nations, which, though the chief, is by no means the sole object of political ceconomy, appears perfectly just. On the whole, this attack, though the Reviewers may attempt to disdain it, will have a beneficial effect, in repressing that audacious rashness which conscious superiority and perpetual triumph have an invincible tendency to generate.

* In the Diary, Oct. 2, Mr. Green says, "The Reviewers have certainly brought themselves into much difficulty by their hasty and intemperate attack on Oxford, and particularly by their attempted display of classical attainment. They will find it difficult to recover the ground which they have lost in public esteem." See Mr. Coleridge's Table Talk, vol. ii. p. 348. "We got upon the Oxford Controversy, and he was decidedly of opinion that there could be no doubt of Copleston's complete victory. He thought the Review had chosen its points of attack ill, as there must doubtless be in every institution so old, much to reprehend and to carp at. On the other hand, he thought that Copleston had not been so severe or hard upon them as he might have been; but he admired the critical part of the work, which he thought very highly valuable, independently of the controversy."-EDIT.