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villages, rivers and lakes—would form one of the largest objects which the eye, or even the imagination, can steadily grasp at one time. But such an object, grand and extensive as it is, forms no more than the forty-thousandth part of the terraqueous globe; so that before we can acquire an adequate conception of the magnitude of our own world, we must conceive 40,000 landscapes, of a similar extent, to pass in review before us : and, were a scene, of the magnitude now stated, to pass before us every hour, till all the diversified scenery of the earth were brought under our view, and were twelve hours a-day allotted for the observation, it would require nine years and forty-eight days before the whole surface of the globe could be contemplated, even in this general and rapid manner. But, such a variety of successive landscapes passing before the eye, even although it were possible to be realized, would convey only a very vague and imperfect conception of the scenery of our world; for objects at the distance of forty miles cannot be distinctly perceived; the only view which would be satisfactory would be, that which is comprehended within the range of three or four miles from the spectator.
Again, I have already stated, that the surface of the earth contains nearly 200,000,000 of square miles. Now, were a person to set out on a minute survey of the terraqueous globe, and to travel till he passed along every square mile on its surface, and to continue his route without intermission, at the rate of thirty miles every day, it would require 18,264 years before he could finish his tour, and complete the survey of “this huge rotundity on which we tread :"-so that, had he commenced his excursion on the day in which Adam was created, and continued it to the present hour, he would not have accomplished one-third part of this vast tour.
In estimating the size and extent of the earth, we ought also to take into consideration, the vast variety of objects with which it is diversified, and the nume.
rous animated beings with which it is stored; the great divisions of land and water, the continents, seas, and islands, into which it is distributed; the lofty ranges of mountains which rear their heads to the clouds; the unfathomable abysses of the ocean ; its vast subterraneous caverns and burning mountains; and the lakes, rivers, and stately forests with which it is so magnificently adorned ; the many millions of animals, of every size and form, from the elephant to the mite, which traverse its surface; the numerous tribes of fishes, from the enormous whale to the diminutive shrimp, which “play” in the mighty ocean; the aerial tribes, which sport in the regions above us, the vast mass of the surrounding atmosphere, which encloses the earth and all its inhabitants as “with a swaddling band.” The immense variety of beings, with which our terrestrial habitation is furnished, conspires, with every other consideration, to exalt our conceptions of that Power by which our globe, and all that it contains, were brought into existence.
Rev. GEORGE CRABBE.
Were others joyful, he looked smiling on,
In times severe, when many a sturdy swain
No more that meek and suppliant look in prayer,
THE COMMON LOT.
There lived a man: and who was he?
That man resembled thee.
The land in which he died unknown;
This truth survives alone :-
Alternate triumphed in his breast;
Oblivion hides the rest.
The changing spirits' rise and fall;
For these are felt by all.
Enjoyed,—but his delights are fled;
And foes,-his foes are dead.
Hath lost in its unconscious womb :
Her beauty from the tomb.
The rolling seasons, day and night,
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main;
To him exist in vain.
Encountered-all that troubles thee :
He is,—what thou shalt be.
That once their shades and glory threw,
No vestige where they flew.
The annals of the human race,
Their ruins, since the world began,
Than this-THERE LIVED A MAN!
SORROW FOR THE DEAD.
WASHINGTON IRYING. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal—every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open--this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal ;