THE AGE OF IMPROVEMENT. WE live in an age of improvement. The characteristic battle-cry of our times is, Onward! Not shouted by armed columns in the headlong onset that secures or overthrows empires, but in the scarcely less impetuous advance of all classes, of all nations, in the eventful struggle for precedence in the arts of peace.

In looking back within the period of our own remembrance, there seems so much of progress crowded into that brief space, that we are surprised so little should have been done before we lived. We wonder what the world has been about since the creation, and suspect that the past ages must have had rather a sleepy time in leaving so much to our day and generation. In the vast range of science, and its applicability to every-day use, in the means of abridging distance by increased locomotion, in all that relates to human culture and human comfort, the nineteenth century has done more than the combined results of all its predecessors. Its distinctive mark is utility. All professions and classes must contribute to this great end. The plodding scholar and the practical man must alike lay their work on the public altar. The student is not allowed to follow his tastes and gratify his curiosity for himself alone: he must acquire for others, and surrender his knowledge for the good of all. He may dissect the globe until its component parts are familiar things; resolve matter into its original elements; compel the solid rock to tell the history of its formation; and from the indistinct and mouldering fragments of bygone time spread out the map of the infant earth teeming with monster life and unseemly vegetation. He may show how processes, worked out by the wisdom of the Creator, compelled the ungenial soil to unfold the principles of production; and, transforming the primitive world into fertility and usefulness, prepared this beautiful home for the advent and improvement of the human race. But he must do all this with a strict regard to the wants of humanity. Science can no longer dwell in seclusion-a living thing buried from men; but she is summoned from study and laboratory, from closet and cabinet, to aid in the great march of advancement. She abandons her "arcana' to minister to man, and to apply her power to the necessities of active life. She does not, now, bend mysteriously over furnace and erucible, that iron may become gold, and our allotted days be indefinitely extended; but she brings her works into light,

that industry may be encouraged by her friendly assistance. She seeks a solvent that shall cover the barren places with abundance, converting stones to bread, and transmuting sterility into waving corn-fields. That the husbandman may know how to apportion his labour, she subjects the soil to a scrutiny, which infallibly betrays where excess exists, or where nutriment is wanted. She classifies and arranges earth, stone, and plant, with unerring skill; tells the history and uses of the forest tree; breaks in on the domestic economy of insect life; discloses the habits of the worm; gives every hue of the beetle's mail; describing so minutely the appearance and intentions of the destroyer of orchard and garden, that his presence may be detected, and his operations frustrated. Indeed, the speculations of science and abstractions of philosophy are made subservient to this utilitarian age, which discards theory without practice, and estimates the value of learned research in proportion to its adaption to the tangible requirements of society.

It is not advisable to go back to the early ages, tracing the progress of agriculture from beyond the flood. It may be taken for granted that the antediluvians entertained a due consideration for dinner, and very well comprehended the small chances of procuring it without paying their addresses to the soil. Neither is it expedient to explore what is generally understood by antiquity. It may be a matter of curiosity what the people of that indefinite period did to the earth, but as for any practical application of the information, we might as well consult a model of one of their war galleys for the purpose of improving a line-ofbattle ship. Whether tillage was first practised in India or China, whether the Egyptians pulverized the Delta of the Nile with a wooden hoe, or the Romans scarified the Campagna with a crooked stick, are matters of no great moment except to the antiquary. A thorough investigation into the agriculture of the ancients would give no hint for the management of our farms, adding neither to the corn-bin, hay-mow, or market-cart. They wrote much, and not content with plain prose, gave some, now useless, advice in very excellent verse. Hesion's poem of Works and Days sleeps on the shelf of the library, and the Georgies of Virgil serve only to worry schoolboys with rather tough Latin. Homer says, that the master farmer was accustomed to meet his ploughmen at either end of the furrow with the crowned goblet," to reward and stimulate them with hearty draughts. He does not describe the

quality of the beverage, but it is to be sup- | posed that it was such as would meet the approbation of a temperance society, or that the furrows were very long; the employers of those days doubtless being as anxious as at the present for a good day's work, and however partial they may have been to "the serpentine line of beauty" in art, it can be presumed they did not fancy an irregular series of them in their ploughed fields.

We give the past ages credit for very good Intentions, and, in some things, must acknowledge their superiority. The huge monuments, whose construction is an unsolved problem, puzzling the science and art of modern times even to raise from the ground the fragments which time or the barbarian has laid low, compel us to confess that they beat us in laying stone walls. But, in positive usefulness, we entertain a belief that we have made an advance in the management of the earth. If the Carthagenian general, who wrote twenty-eight books on Husbandry, every word of which is now as little known as his military exploits, had been present at the Great Exhibition, his astonishment would be equal to that of his soldiers, should they rise up, to find themselves confronted by a battery of flying artillery. And could Cincinnatus walk through our agricultural warehouses, his wonder would be, not that he left his plough, but that he ever returned to it. In fact, we flatter ourselves that we know something more about farming than did the Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans; and doubt whether the most indefatigable research into their modes of cultivation would increase our knowledge. We respect them for their veneration of the plough, and can excuse them for worshipping the ox that drew it, he being, unquestionably, superior to the average of their deities; but we think we could show them stock that would essentially diminish the divine honours of all the cattle of antiquity, from Apis downward.

The cultivation of the earth commenced whenever, and wherever, she did not, spontaneously, produce enough for human wants. Necessity placed the hand on the plough, for men never yet did hard work for the fun of it. When they can feed and clothe themselves without it, they find other modes of amusement. Labour has been ordained as man's heritage, leaving to his ingenuity to discover the best ways of applying or diminishing it. One of his great objects is to produce the most results with the least work. He has, therefore, pressed the horse and ox into his service, making them do his bidding.

He dams the water-course, and only suffers it to run after it has turned his mill-wheels. He invents the steam-engine, and it puffs and blows that his hands may rest and his own breath not be expended. The drowsy hum of the old-fashioned spinning-wheel, which was once seen in every farm-house, and the monotonous sound of the hand-loom, that lumbered up the largest apartment, have given way to the stunning din and clatter of the factory, which turns out material enough to clothe an army, in the time that an ancient housewife would have been getting ready to weave a shirt.

STRAY THOUGHTS.

WE have observed that when men and women arrive near middle age, a settled sorrow seems expressed by their countenances. This is most apparent in the faces of men. The ends of the mouth are bent downwards, and wrinkles appear on the face and brows, telling to the world that earnest, deep thought had been there; and also speaking of sorrow and disappointment. Sorrow for what? What can cause our fellow-creatures thus to show openly the inner feelings of their bosoms? They do so unconsciously, it may be, oftimes-perhaps almost always; and yet the expression of their countenances in moments of repose is full of poetry, full of eloquence; and how shall we seek to interpret it? They have gazed on the dark and the bright side of human life; they have had many joys, and not a few sorrows. They have known the pleasures of what the world calls love, and the many sweetnesses which earth can be stow; and having enjoyed and suffered much, having beheld the fleeting pageant of the world's pomp and pride, having searched around them for something to satisfy cravings which they cannot define, they seem with silent eloquence to say

"All that this world has given us in the shapes of pleasure, mirth, wealth, and honour is as nothing-fleeting as the rainbow, or the beauteous forms and faces we have gazed on in the land of dreams," and with mingled scorn and sorrow (scorn for the empty joys which the world can give, and sorrow for the possession of unsatisfied longings,) they gaze around them on the world, it may be looking silently, but not the less eagerly, forward to that far land where their yearnings for immortal blessings will be hushed in the fruition of eternal love and peace.

J. G. T.

his wife and three children to the care of a brother. After coming here he was so disappointed and disgusted with the place that he wrote home to say he should return to England directly, and had actually taken his passage; but, a storm coming on, the vessel could not sail at the appointed time, and being delayed several days, he went ashore; but while he was away the wind changed and the ship sailed without him. The change in the wind changed his opinion; he had not much money left, so he thought he would try to earn enough to make himself as rich as when he came; so he went to work for some one who persuaded him to rent a section, which he did, and eventually did so well that he sent for his family, who sold off all in Devonshire; and now he has eleven eighty-acre sections of his own, and is one of the largest farmers in the colony. Of course every one is not so fortunate, but everyone may get a living, and a good one, if they are willing to work. There is also a general sympathy among old settlers for new-comers, and very few masters would refuse to give work to such as are willing to make themselves useful. If any man hears of another settler and his family not doing well, the first question is, "How long has he been here?" Perhaps the answer is, "Only twelve months." The answer again is, "Oh, poor fellow; he has not had time to get on," and whatever favours he may require are generally granted. But if the answer is, "He has been here three years or more," the reply directly is, "Oh, there must be something wrong, or else he would be getting on by this time; I shall not trust him." As to the various reports current in Europe when we were there, of young men clerks getting enormous wages by bullock driving, it is all nonsense: the fact is, they can get nothing else to do. After they come over they spend all they have in Adelaide, and then, not knowing how to work, take to bullock-driving (the lowest calling in the colony) to keep themselves from downright starvation. Many of this sort of young men go hut-keeping, which is by far the easiest berth. There is only one sheepstation about here, and that is ten miles from us.

I went on a visit to this station a short time ago, and while on the road met three little children, the eldest about nine years old, having charge of a flock of fifteen hundred sheep. When we got to the station, we found it kept by an intelligent Scotch couple, who had been there several years: the hut-keeper was a gentleman who can talk Greek and Latin; he has just heard of

the arrival of one hundred pounds from home, and no doubt he will stay in Adelaide until he has spent every penny, and then write pitiful accounts of this colony to his friends.

Miss F. writes me word that Sarah L., who came out with us, writes to her friends to say that the young women in Adelaide are glad to work for nothing but their keep, without any wages at all. I have asked many people who have been here from Adelaide if such is a fact, and they all deny that it is true: they say it is often the case with the men, who are glad to get, in any way, an insight into colonial work.

Some young men who came over in the "City of Manchester," told us that she brought out a number of needlewomen, who dressed on board far beyond the cabin passengers, and who never went to the cookhouse to put a saucepan on, without putting on gloves to prevent soiling their fingers. Now I suppose these young women thought this a dreadful place when they came ashore and found that, if they stayed in the town, they would have to accept menial situations, and that if they went up country they would have to wash milk dishes, which cannot be done in gloves anyhow; and, even worse, in some places would have to milk the cows. However, I have heard that several of these girls are now doing very well, and so are the girls from the Shetland Islands. Indeed, everybody who has met with these Scotch lasses says they are very good girls.

Most of the young women who come out in our ships get situations a few days after arrival; if they do not get places directly, they can stay on board fourteen days, and after that time they go to the labour office, where I believe they can stay till they get situations. The orphan girls, who are generally very young, are always sent to the labour office at once, from whence they are always hired, and never allowed to go and live at public-houses. I believe that any young woman may find certain employment, with fair wages, very soon after she arrives. One reason why so many are out of employment so long is, because they ask such enormous wages.

We have lately had a minister settle down here, and have just built a chapel; it is a curious-looking edifice, a few degrees inferior to the Crystal Palace, which from what I hear must be all glass. Our infant chapel cannot yet boast of any transparency, for we have calico windows, and about a fortnight ago we were much amused, for the cattle one night had eaten them all up.

Ir is not necessary to suppose that the Almighty uttered these express words; but, understanding them as an expression of His Sovereign will, they may be considered as an instance of the truest sublimity. This extraordinary expression, says Boileau, which marks so well the obedience of the creature to the commands of the Creator, is truly sublime, and has in it something divine. If, instead of those few words (says he), we were to substitute-"The Sovereign Lord of all things commanded that light should be formed, and at the same time, this wonderful work, which we call light, was produced," what littleness should we not perceive in these pompous expressions, when opposed to "God said, Let there be light: and there was light."-Reflex. Crit. x.

The simplicity of the words, the brevity of the whole, and the rapidity with which this wonderful and glorious work, proceeding from the First Great Cause of all things, was accomplished, when taken collectively, are truly admirable. Besides, we cannot help adverting to the great benefit and blessing of the thing created, by means of which the beauties of creation are unveiled to our senses, and we enjoy, with the least possible exertion, the most innocent, varied, and extensive pleasures.

minds

A difficulty has arisen, however, in the some persons, to account for the production of light before the creation of the sun, which has been considered as its Source, and they have indulged various conjectures on the subject. Some have supposed that it was caused by an imperfect sun, in which the elements of light and fire were not yet collected in sufficient quantities to illuminate the earth. Others have imagined that, though the sun existed, his rays could not penetrate through the dense atmosphere to render the surface of the terraqueous globe visible. A third conjecture is, that this first-created light was only a lucid cloud, of the same nature as the shechinah, which guided the Israelites by night in their journeyings through the wilderness. But this difficulty has arisen from adopting, with implicit confidence, a mere hypothesis of modern philosophy, an hypothesis which the recent improvements of science seem to render every day more questionable. Instead of the great elementary body of light emanating from the sun, there is reason to believe that light itself is an inconceivably subtile fluid, pervading all space, and wholly

independent of the sun, which may be considered as its principal exciter, or the great agent in nature which gives it motion and renders it the medium of vision. The late

experiments in chemistry and galvanism have served to render such a fluid or elementary principle more familiar to us. Besides, we know that there are many substances capable of emitting light, independently of the sun. Among others may be mentioned, besides culinary fire, the different kinds of phosphori, the diamond, the glow-worm, the Bologna stone, the fire-fly, ignis-fatuus, putrescent fish, &c., and frequently the waters of the sea are seen to emit light, respecting which last the reader may find some very curious observations in the "Philosophical Transactions," vol. lix. p. 446, et seq.

Another genus of mollusca, called pyrasoma, seen and described by M. Perou (whose veracity may certainly be relied on), presents one of the most singular phenomena of this kind of light.-"On the 14th of December," he relates, "the horizon was loaded with heavy clouds, and the darkness was intense. We had discovered, at a little distance, a broad belt of phosphoric light spread upon the waves. We presently reached it, and found that the brillianey was caused by an innumerable quantity of small animals, which, lifted by the waves, floated at different depths, appearing under a variety of shapes. The pieces that were more deeply immersed presented the idea of masses of burning matter, or of enormous red-hot balls, whilst those on the surface perfectly resembled large cylinders of iron heated to whiteness."

Bouguer, Hawksbee, and Bernouilli, instituted many curious experiments, by which they produced various kinds of artificial light, as did also the philosopher, Franklin. The supposition that light is a subtile elementary fluid, or a substance independent of the sun, is at least as old as Aristotle, and supported by the opinion of many writers of eminence, among whom may be mentioned the Abbé Pluché (the ingenious author of "Spectacle de la Nature,'') Dr. J. Taylor, Dr. Franklin, and that profound mathematician, Euler. Nor should it be forgotten that the sentiments of Milton on this subject are conformable to the declaration of Moses.

His invocation to light is one of

the most poetical passages in his immortal work. He calls it

"Bright effluence of bright essence increate!
Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the sun,
Before the heav'ns thou wert, and at the voice