political discussions that raged around him, and his silence was considered as a disavowal of the principles which were then triumphant. Those who arrogated to themselves the title of "Friends of the People began to persecute the man who had shown his friendship by his deeds. "Speak no more of Parmentier !" exclaimed an orator of the Jacobin Club, "he would feed us only on potatoes. It was he who invented them." His name was placed on the list of the suspected, and he was deprived of the small pension given to him by Los XVI. and of his apartments at the Hôtel des in valides. But he had scarcely been reduced to poverty before the absolute need of his services was again felt. The coalition of all the European powers against France forced her to neglect no means that might contribute to her security, and amongst these it was deemed advisable to reorganize the pharmaceutic department of the mili tary hospitals, and to make the soldiers' bread better. This difficult task was offered to Parmentier, who aecepted it with enthusiasm, and acquitted himself of it with zeal which was above all praise. To this day his name is gratefully remembered in the French army. He was now appreciated according to his deserts, and was called to one honourable employment after another in the service of humanity. All the learned societies sent him diplomas, and he was received as a member of the National Institute. During the time that Napoleon's empire lasted, Parmentier's life flowed on in uninter rupted prosperity and honour; but in 1813 his health was considerably injured by his grief on the death of a beloved sister, joined to his distress at the reverses sustained by the French armies. At the approach of the allied sovereigns he fell dangerously ill, and died on the 17th of December, three days after they had entered France. A distinguished French savant, Cadet de Gassicourt, delivered a funeral oration in honour of Parmentier before the Pharmaceutic Society; and in describing the life of this simple-minded and benevolent man, he dwelt on the two acts by which it was especially brance of his imprisonment in Germany, and of the potato, recurred more vividly than ever to his mind. This useful vegetable had been brought into Europe from Peru in the early part of the sixteenth century, and was first cultivated in Italy and in Germany. It was introduced into France from Flanders, and was propagated in the south by the care of the great minister Turgot; it was used in the provinces of Anjou and Limousin, but ignorance and stubborn dislike to every innovation had prevailed in all other parts of the kingdom, and the plant was regarded as a subtle species of poison, that was calculated both to exhaust the soil in which it was grown, and to bring forth leprosy and other fearful maladies wherever it was used as an article of food. Such were the absurd prejudices Parmentier now resolved to attack with courage and perseverance. He knew how hard the strife must ever be against long-established custom and popular opinion; but he was animated by the purest philanthropy, and no obstacle seemed to him invincible in the path which should lead to the attainment of a national benefit. He saw that it would be necessary to obtain from the first some powerful protection for his plans, and he sought that of the king himself, Louis XVI., who gladly accorded it. He then determined to strike the imagination of the Parisians, and so to forge a weapon of his own, for his projected warfare against fancy and foolish superstition. For this end, he asked the monarch to bestow upon him fifty acres of the sterile plain of Les Sablons. They were cultivated now for the first time, under his directions and at his expense, and in due time were planted with potatoes. No sooner did the flowers appear, than Parmentier carried a nosegay of them to Versailles, and presented it to the king, who was surrounded by his court; Louis received the offering most graciously, and placed it in his button-hole, in spite of the scornful looks and the halfsuppressed smiles of many who were present. From that time the cause of the potato was gained in the highest circles of Paris. The noble and the beauti-marked, and which contained, as it were, an epitome of fu imitated the example of the monarch, and the potato blossom was worn instead of jasmine and roses in the most fashionable dresses of the day. But while the great lords and ladies of the court hastened to the Hôtel des Invalides to offer their congratulations to the modest philanthropist at whose expense not a few jokes had been passed only a week before, it was still doubtful whether the people, for whose benefit he had chiefly been anxious to raise the plant, would be willing to profit by his pains. The guards placed round his field by day increased the curiosity of the crowd, but they were withdrawn at night, and Parmentier heard with infinite satisfaction that his potatoes were stolen. He rewarded the first man that brought him tidings of this welcome theft, exclaiming, in the gladness of his heart, "If they are stolen by night, the old prejudice against them no longer exists." Soon afterwards he gave a grand entertainment, at which Lavoisier and the American philosopher, Franklin, were present, amongst many of the most distinguished men of that time. Every dish consisted of potatoes dressed in an endless variety of form and fashion; even the liqueurs were extracted from the same precious root. It is only to be regretted that the bill of fare and the receipts of the cooks have not been preserved to the present day. Thus did the generous efforts of one man give to his fatherland an inestimable supply of wholesome food, and placed millions beyond the reach of the dreadful famines which used in past years from time to time to desolate the plains of France. Parmentier occupied himself a good deal from 1783 to 1791 in composing and publishing several most useful works upon domestic economy and agriculture. But soon the storms of the French revolution put an end to all calm meditation and enjoyment. He was too wise, and far too well occupied to take any active part in the it all,-the introduction of the potato and the syrup of the grape, which, in his own charitable intentions, were to become the bread and the sugar of the poor. François de Neufchatel had already proposed giving his name to the potato, and calling it "La Parmentiere," but his suggestion was not adopted, and few perhaps now in France remember to whom they are indebied for one of the most necessary luxuries they possess amongst the fruits of the earth. EXTRACTS FROM NEW WORKS. THE COTTAGE OF AN ALBANIAN SHEPHERD. "Soon the barking of shepherd-dogs announced that our approach was heard; and, to our infinite joy, we found ourselves in a few minutes in a wild inte Albanian hamlet, with the whole of its very unsophis ticated inhabitants crowding round us. Instanty when they found how wearied and exhausted we were there was a great dispute as to who was to have the honour of offering us hospitality. Finally, the right to do so was claimed by the fortunate possessor of the best house in this village of shepherds. He triumphantly led the way to the dwelling, which we wert told was so greatly superior to all the others. It was a small building, composed entirely of wood, and c sisting of one single apartment. A large fire blar merrily on a square stone near the top of the room, and the furniture consisted of various sheepskins, spread out on the clay floor as seats. We were invited to take our places on the ground, on one side of the fire, into which a handful of pine cones having been flung, it shot up into bright flames, which cast a strong glare on the strange scene around us. Opposite to us sai väl host and his wife, their daughter, a little girl of some fourteen, and her husband, a fine-looking youth of twenty. Beyond them were our servants, occupied in preparing our supper, and in rubbing down the horses, who had entered by the same door as ourselves, and were to share the same apartment; next to them were an ass and a pig, who were loud in their remonstrances at being thrust so far from the fire to make way for the new comers, not to speak of the innumerable cocks and hens who perched in the rafters, and flew about amongst us. I really believe we should have slept soundly in spite of all, but for the restlessness of the pig, who was a decided somnambulist, and the braying of the ass in his dreams-a sound which all must be aware is far from melodious under any circumstances; but those who have never had an opportunity of hearing it in a bedroom can have no idea how overpowering it then appears. The night was short, and we started again at three o'clock on our return home; but it was one never to be forgotten."-Wayfaring Sketches among the Greeks and Turks, by a Seven Years' Resident in Greece. NIGHT SCENE BETWEEN DECKS ON A GERMAN "A HOLLOW Sea was running, and the waves thundered with heavy blows against the sides of the ship, which quivered to her heart at every stroke. Yet the gale had not blown long enough to raise the waves much; and heeling over to the wind-the position in which a vessel is both safer and has less violent motion than when it blows directly astern and the lofty mast sways from side to side the good ship shot rapidly through the dark water, dashing the foam from her bows, while most of the passengers quietly and without alarm fell to sleep. A wild confused cry, a thumping and washing of heavy bodies, an almost stupifying, piercing pain in the head, waked him [Werner]. Alarmed and surprised, he opened his eyes; and although everything around was hidden in pitchy darkness, he instantly perceived that the ship must have changed her tack, and was in consequence lying over on the other side, on which his berth was-for his head was thrown downwards, while his feet were pointed almost perpendicularly upwards. He changed his position in all haste. The frightful din between decks, however, went on; and creeping out of his berth, he became at once aware of the alarming condition in which he and the rest of his fellow-passengers were at the moment. . . . . The luggage had been lashed to the stanchions, as usual in passenger ships, and in such a way, too, that most of the lids and covers might be opened to give the owners access to their stores of food and clothing-but one of the peasants, not at once comprehending the reasonable purpose of keeping the baggage fast, and the risk which might attend the neglect of this precaution, had, in spite of the dissuasions of the others, loosened one of the ropes, in order to get more easily at something in his chest. The little tailor, who lay in the berth above him, may very likely have had a prophetic fear of the trunks and cases dancing about in disorder: for he had attempted to fasten them as before-but, being ignorant of the mystery of knotting ropes, had done it but poorly. So that when the ship began to plunge-when the whole weight of the baggage was swayed over, now on this side, now on that, the fastening gave way, and down came clattering first the little boxes and cases from the top of the pile, followed, at last, by the heavy ordnance, the immense chests of the emigrants. Many of them, indeed, with laudable zeal, instantly leaped out of their cribs when they perceived the danger: but from the frantic motions of the ship, they could hardly keep themselves on their legs, how much less master these heavy weights-and were fain, as a sudden shift of the vessel threw the whole mass against them, to regain in all haste their berths, which were protected by stout planks, in order to save themselves from being lamed or crushed to death by the luggage which came falling upon them. Their condition now was terrible; and was made sadder by the moans of one of the young fellows who, in attempting to reach the hatchway and get on deck, had been badly wounded by some of the chests falling upon him :-while from all the berths the the noise was increased by the wailing of the women, screams of children, and the groans and sobs of the seasick. It was a frightful confusion; and in vain did they all rage and cry for help from the sailors. In the darkness they could have done nothing, had they even had leisure then to attend to the unfortunate passengers. Then, when all might suppose the alarm had reached a height that could not be increased, there pierced through all the din and uproar, through all the groaning and complaining, a cry of agony and unspeakable horror so wild, that even the sick and the children hearkened to the sound, and for the moment an absolute hush followed the dismal tumult. It was but for a moment: and the fearful exclamation-'A corpse! a corpse!' sounded from berth to berth, from lip to lip !"— The German Emigrant's Journeyings and Adventures. A NIGHT ON THE SHORES OF HINDUSTAN. There is "WE came to anchor, on the third morning after quitting Kedgeree, under the walls of Fort William, and found H.M.'s 3d Dragoons encamped on the glacis. About four in the afternoon, the heat having considerably abated, we disembarked, and marched into the Fort, where quarters had been provided for our men, though none for the officers, as the brigade-major informed us, at the same time stating, that as a difference of opinion existed on that subject between himself and the fort-major, we must wait until he (of the Queen's) had craftily overcome him (of the Company's), and induced the latter individual to house us. an old proverb about a man between two stools being likely to come to the ground, which was fully illustrated in our case, for, both of our supports for a night's rest in Fort William having given way, we came to the earth, though fortunately in the tents of the 3d Dragoons, immediately under the walls of the fort, where our fall was kindly broken by cloaks spread on the ground to receive us. I was composing myself to sleep as comfortably as circumstances would permit, when suddenly a volley of screams, as though proceeding from the lungs of ten thousand demons, caused me to start on my feet, supposing the camp to have been invaded by the infernal regions. My host, lying in the opposite recess of the tent, being a man of some days' experience, begged me not to disturb myself, as it was only the jackals.-'Only the jackals! but they are pretty nearly enough to murder sleep, I thought, as I laid down to await the cessation of their intolerable howls. Silence at length ensued, and I was just falling asleep, when a low gurgling noise arose close to my ears, and continued with the most monotonous regularity: Good heaven!' I cried, after listening intently for a few minutes, 'that must come from the diabolical bandicoots, of which I have often heard from old Indians.' I drew my sword, and awaited their advance in a violent perspiration, for I have an insuperable abhorrence to the whole rat tribe; but they had no intention of coming to close quarters. No, their cursed pipes sounded the advance, unheeded by the main body. My enemies, nevertheless, seemed to be mustering; for the gurgle was taken up by a reinforcement from the opposite side of the tent, interrupted occasionally by a low, muttering sound: Jamjam efficaci do manus scientiæ. 'I submit; it is impossible to sleep through this interminable persecution, and a man's days in this climate must be necessarily short without rest!' Thus I exclaimed, as jumping up, I threw my cloak aside, and paced the tent in a fever, saluted incessantly by the unearthly gurgle. My friend lay on the opposite side; sleeping as calmly as if there were no such things in the world to torture us as jackals or bandicoots. The morning was just breaking, and I stepped out of the tent, in hope of being taken for a ghost by the jackals, and thus retaliating by fright on a portion of my enemies -when, lo! the veil of mystery was withdrawn, and there sat two Hindoos smoking the pipe of the country, commonly known by the name of hubble-bubble, which noisy instruments I had mistaken all night for the bandicoots. This was too absurd. I burst into a fit of laughter, which awakened my friend, who hastily joined me, when I related my grievance. Having silenced the smokers, I soon enjoyed the rest I had almost despaired of attaining."-Military Sketches by a Cavalry Officer. But I must not fail to tell How a fairy islet lay About three cables' length from shore, The jewel of the bay. And thither with swift strokes they race, Holding pleasure still in chase, Through cleft waves that, as on they dash, Close round their shoulders with a rainbow flash. And landing in a tiny cove, They rove the islet o'er and o'er, Naked, in boyish liberty; And high and low explore Its rocks, and inmost coral caves, And now 'tis time to think of home; Congeals their youthful blood! That seems the brothers for his prey to mark; Ah, well may they grow pale with dread! The elder boy, with desperate cheer, His jaws in sight, then dips, then slowly reappears. A deadly film comes o'er their eyes; They have neither pulse nor breath: Half conscious what they do, they creep Unseeing and unseen to lie, Than dally with their watchful enemy. And they look forth from hour to hour; And now the tide is flowing fast And still they shudder, crouch, and cower; They shrink from the bright sea. For they must drown, or brave the cruel for: For the dear life to shore they strain, Convulsed, worse than in fever dreams; And once the younger screams Till a warm glance recalls them, and they hear THE DUMB GIRL. ANNE A. FREMONT. To break this weary silence, and to be So prodigal of speech, and full of glee— And when some childish grief For they in list'ning ears the cause can speak; Each word is breathed more touching than the last, And when the tale is done, the woe is past. But must I hide mine deep In the recesses of my own sad heart, For I can only weep, And when they ask what I can ne'er impart, But there is one, the best, The sweetest, gentlest, most beloved of all; And oh! how gladly seem her words to fall, And with a skill, love-taught, Will read my feelings on my varying cheek, Unlock each sealed thought And give it utt'rance: if these lips could speak, A heartfelt blessing, and breathed forth for thee! H THE ACTION OF WATER. WE have spoken of the agency of ice streams in changing the features of our globe, we will now mention the action of water in producing the like effect. We have here no theory to propound, no hidden causes to investigate; we have but to consult the records of early and late times, in order to see the truth of the adage, "continual dropping will wear away the stone," exemplified among the grand scenes of nature as well as in our experience of every-day life. But, first, let us trace the agency of water as a forming, not a destroying power. At the mouths of all great rivers, deltas, or tracts of swampy land, are formed by the following process. The materials washed from the banks by the ceaseless flow of the current are held in suspension and carried along while the water is in rapid motion, till meeting the waves of the sea at its embouchure, the force of the river is checked, and the materials are deposited at the bottom, at a greater or less distance from the shore, according to the resistance which the river opposes to the sea, and also somewhat dependent upon other circumstances in the character of the stream. For a river greatly in creased by the melting of the snows of a mountainous country, and rushing periodically in a large volume to the ocean, will, when thus swollen, not only carry the debris which it then bears farther out from the shore, but will act in the same manner, though in a smaller degree, upon the accumulations deposited at less turbulent periods. A stream, therefore, which flows through a tolerably flat country, and which is equable in its quantity and force at all seasons of the year, deposits its mud and sand in a more circumscribed space than that which has its source in a mountain chain. Thus are rich alluvial tracts formed, which constantly, but not visibly increasing, gain from the ocean what the wear and tear of its waves in other spots washes away. The vast amount of mud and sand thus conveyed by running water may be imagined from an experiment which was made some years ago on the water of the Rhine, by Mr. L. Horner. This gentleman found that the average of solid matter brought down by the Rhine amounted to 400 tons per hour; and he thus calculated that in the course of one year upwards of 7,000,000,000 tons of debris would be carried along, the greater part of which must be deposited in Holland before reaching the sea, in consequence of the slow and meandering course of the river through that flat alluvial country, In the course of two thousand years the Rhine may thus have brought down enough material to form a stratum one yard thick, extending over an area more than thirty-six miles square. The "wandering Po" likewise brings down large quantities of debris; it receives in its course many mountain-streams, each laden with characteristic matter, which in the descent of the Po to the plains about Ferrara impedes its current, and causes it to form numerous sluggish streams, powerless to bear away the soil with which they are impregnated. Hence a kind of promontory has been formed at the mouth of the river, which, throwing back the sea with double force upon Venice, has caused it to gain upon that city, as is proved by two pavements having been found lying beneath the present one in the place of St. Mark, and below the present level of the Adriatic. Ferber also quotes Italian naturalists as to the presumed fact of the rise of the sea. To the south of the Po stands Ravenna, once the capital of the Western empire, the link between Rome and Constantinople, the residence of the Gothic kings and of the Byzantine exarchs. It contains the mausoleum of Theodoric and the burialplace of Dante. Augustus formed a harbour at Ravenna, | but it is now filled up, and the town stands two leagues from the sea. The little town of Classe, which is situated in an adjoining marsh, was destroyed by the Lombards under Luitprand, A.D. 728; it was then a seaport, it is now situated four miles from the shore. If the Adriatic be indeed rising, or the bordering land be sinking, the quantity of soil brought down by the rivers must be very great to counteract this. The delta of the Ganges is the most extensive and remarkable of those of which we have to speak. It com mences at a distance of 220 miles direct from the sea, and has a base 200 miles in length, besides which enormous deposit, the quantity of mud and sand carried out into the bay of Bengal is so great that during the rainy season, when the stream is turbid, the sea does not recover its transparency even at a distance of sixty miles from the coast, and a glass of water from the river is said to yield one part in four of mud. Hindostan and the Sutlej, the bed of the Ganges being then an was probably once an island, by the union of the Junta arm of the sea. The Hindoos assert that in the time of Bhagiratha, B.C. 2000, the Gangetic provinces were uninhabitable, except in the upper parts of the country where Satyvrata, or Noah, is said generally to have re sided. Bhagiratha went to Hurdwar, and obtaining Gange, led her to the ocean, tracing with the wheels f his chariot two furrows as limits to her encroachments This probably alludes to some wise legislator, who took means to reclaim the lands rendered useless by the overflowing of the Ganges; perhaps the whole country was a swamp without any distinct water-courses. The soil in the Gangetic provinces consists of different serts of earth in great confusion, the lightest often lying below the heaviest. At an excavation near Benares, som mould, and sand, the workmen came to an old bed of the years since, after piercing through several beds of clay, Ganges thirty feet below the present one. In a deep stra tum of river sand were mixed the bones of men and quadrupeds. Under this was clay and earth, and at the depth of 105 feet was fine white sand like that on the sea-shor. Besides this evidence of a former sea covering the plain of Hindostan, there are found in the valleys of the Sewalik mountains beautiful pebbles, agates, and frag ments of marble, all rounded by the action of the wave The Ganges has been known to rise in one night in a column of thirty feet perpendicular, and to carry de struction before it; thus the ancient city of Hastinapers was destroyed. The delta of the Nile is well known, but it has bert disputed whether this be wholly an accumulation formes by the river. Tunis is supposed to be the ancient er of Zoan; prostrate columns and other remains have been found there, leading to this opinion; if it be so, the delta has not increased in proportion to the rise of the land along the banks of the river, caused br the clouds of sand which are arrested by the mountains and which fall upon the valley of the Nile. Another instance of solid matter conveyed by a rive and forming land, is at the mouth of the Amazon. Th river meets the current which crosses the Atlantic fr the coast of Africa to that of South America, and the mud which it brings down is deposited along the ca of Guiana, where the sea is shallow; thus the land te is rapidly increasing. The waters of the Amazon not wholly mingled with those of the ocean at a dist of 300 miles from its mouth, and may be recognised by their muddy colour. Thus, also, the red earth brong down from the hills of Lebanon by the river Ada gave rise to the ancient fable of the annual bleeding the wound which had caused the death of the favou of Venus. The festival of Adonis was celebrated after the autumnal equinox, when the sun gradual withdraws his beams from the northern hemisphere and the storms of winter begin to despoil the garcas Then the imaginative heathens mourned the suppos death of the sun in the not less fictitious deaths v Adonis, |