MELON.

A LUSCIOUS fruit, so well known that a description of it would be superfluous. It grows to great perfection, and is highly esteemed in Egypt, especially by the lower class of people, during the hot months. The juice is peculiarly cooling and agreeable in that sultry climate, where it is justly pronounced, "one of the most delicious refreshments that nature, amidst her constant attention to the wants of man, affords in the season of violent heat."

There are varieties of this fruit; but that more particularly referred to in the woodcut, is the water-melon. It is cultivated, says Hasselquist, on the banks of the Nile, in the rich, clayey earth, which subsides during the inundation. This serves the Egyptians for meat, drink, and physic. It is eaten in abundance during the season, even by the richer sort of people: but the common people, on whom Providence has bestowed nothing but poverty and patience, scarcely eat anything but these, and account this the best time of the year, as they are obliged to put up with worse fare at other seasons. The fruit likewise serves them for

drink, the juice refreshing these poor creatures, and they have less occasion for water, than if they were to live on more substantial food in this burning climate. This well explains the regret expressed by the Israelites for the loss of this fruit, whose pleasant liquor had so often quenched their thirst, and relieved their weariness in their servitude; and which would have been exceedingly grateful in a dry, scorching desert.

Mr. Harmer makes the following quotation from the travels of Egmont and Heyman, to show how refreshing this fruit is:-"The inhabitants of Mount Carmel chiefly employ themselves in improving their gardens, where they have, among other fruits, excellent melons and pasteques, which, in goodness and taste, are not at all inferior to those of Naples and the West Indies. The latter are called in America, water-melons, and very properly, consisting of little else than a rind and delicious water. The pulp of some is reddish, especially that part nearest the centre of the fruit, where they have also small seeds, the surface of which is blackish or reddish, and beneath, a white, soft, and palatable substance, whence a kind of oil is

expressed, of great use in colds, inflammations, and cutaneous disorders. The melons which have a white pulp are of a very agreeable taste, but not so much esteemed as the other, probably more from prepossession than any solid reason. Both, however, may supply the place of drink, as they dissolve in the mouth, quench the thirst, and are of a cooling quality."-The Natural History of the Bible.

HABITS OF THE RED DEER.

RED DEER are uncommonly sagacious, and seem to employ the whole of their sagacity in planning and adopting means of self-preservation. Wherever a red deer is found, if his seat be carefully examined, it will be seen that it possesses a more commanding view than any of the surrounding scenery. If a deer travels in snow to his form, he gazes at and watches his own tract with the greatest anxiety. If the wind blows from the direction of his pursuers, he will smell them at several miles distance. If any one of them is perspiring, he will detect them much farther. It must have been frequently observed that almost every herd of red deer carries a young one along with it. The young one is the sentinel. He is placed on an eminence to watch, while the others browse beneath; and if he attempts to quit his post, the stags pursue and butt him with their horns until he resumes his watch. When the leading stag is perplexed with baffling winds, he works up the herd to a pitch of terror in a peculiar manner. He leaps from his form as if in extreme fright, scampers off, but soon returns, followed by the others. After a little while, when no danger is apparent, they begin to browse, and the stag suddenly repeats his

ruse.

In this manner he convinces the herd that some danger threatens, and they all become watchful as so many lynxes. They also adopt this system in instructing their young. There is a perpendicular rock above the village of Shieldaig, on the summit of which a stag selected his form. He lay with his flank towards the precipice, and commanded a view of the surrounding country, and did not seem in the least degree alarmed at the approach of the shepherd or his boy, or even the cutter-man; but if the gamekeeper entered the ground, he bounded away directly.-Inverness Courier.

UNIFORMITY AND VARIETY IN NATURE.

THE HERALDS OF THE SEASONS.

RURAL Sounds, the voices, the language of the wild creatures, as heard by the naturalist, belong to, and are in concord with, the country only. Our sight, our smell, may perhaps be deceived for an interval by con

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servatories, horticultural arts, and bowers of sweets; but our hearing can in no way be beguiled by any semblance of what is heard in the grove or the field. The hum, the murmur, the medley of the mead, is peculiarly its own, admits of no imitation, and the voices of our birds convey particular intimation, and distinctly notify the various periods of the year, with an accuracy as certain as they are detailed in our calendars. The season of spring is always announced as approaching by the notes of the rookery, by the jangle or wooing accents of the dark frequenters of its trees; and that time having passed away, these contentions and cadences are no longer heard. The cuckoo then comes, and informs us that spring has arrived; that he has journeyed to us, borne by gentle gales in sunny days; that fragrant flowers are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling of gratulation and of joy: the children mark the well-known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! as they gambol down the lane: the very plough-boy bids him welcome in the early morn. It is hardly spring without the cuckoo's song; and having told his tale, he has voice for no more, is silent or away. Then comes the dark, swift-winged martin, glancing through the air, that seems afraid to visit our uncertain clime: he comes, though late, and hurries through his business here, eager again to depart, all day long in agitation and precipitate flight. The bland zephyrs of the spring have no charms with them; but, basking and careering in the sultry gleams of June and July, they associate in throngs, and screaming, dash round the steeple or the ruined tower, to serenade their nestling mates; and glare and heat are in their train. When the fervour of summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. The evening robin from the summit of some leafless bough, or projecting point, tells us that autumn is come, and brings matured fruits, chilly airs, and sober hours; and he, the lonely minstrel now that sings, is understood by all. These four birds thus indicate a separate season, have no interference with the intelligence of the other, nor could they be transported without the loss of all the meaning they convey, which no contrivance of art could supply; and, by long association, they have become identified with the period, and in peculiar accordance with the time.Journal of a Naturalist.

docile. He had also a fine Newfoundland dog named Cæsar. These animals were mutually attached, and seemed perfectly acquainted with each other's actions. The dog was always kept in the stable at night, and uniformly lay beside the horse. When Dr. Smith practised in Dublin, he visited his patients on horseback, and had no other servant to take care of his horse while in their houses, but Cæsar, to whom he gave the reins in his mouth. The horse stood very quietly, even in that crowded city, beside his friend Cæsar. When it happened that the Doctor had a patient not far distant from the place of his last visit, he did not think it worth while to re-mount, but called to his horse and Cæsar. They both instantly obeyed, and remained quietly opposite the door where he entered until he came out again. While he remained in Maryborough, Queen's County, where I commanded a detachment, I had many opportunities of witnessing the friendship and sagacity of these intelligent animals. The horse seemed to be as implicitly obedient to his friend Cæsar as he could possibly be to his groom, The Doctor would go to the stable, accompanied by his dog, put the bridle upon his horse, and giving the reins to Cæsar, bid him take the horse to the water. They both understood what was to be done, when off trotted Cæsar, followed by the horse, which frisked, capered, and played with the dog all the way to the rivulet, about three hundred yards distance from the stable. We followed at a great distance, always keeping as far off as possible, so that we could observe their manœuvres. They invariably went to the stream, and, after the horse had quenched his thirst, both returned in the same playful manner as they had gone out. The Doctor frequently desired Cæsar to make the horse leap over this stream, which might be about six feet broad. The dog, by a kind of bark, and leaping up towards the horse's head, intimated to him what he wanted, which was quickly understood, and he cantered off, preceded by Cæsar, and took the leap in a neat and regular style. The dog was then desired to bring him back again, and it was speedily done in the same manner. On one occasion Cæsar lost hold of the reins; and as soon as the horse cleared the leap he immediately trotted up to his canine guide, who took hold of the bridle, and led him through the water quietly."

FREAKS OF MONKEYS.

HE (Captain Rogers) had once accepted the invitation of a brother officer, in a totally different part of the island, to try a few days' hostilities against the elephants of that neighbourhood, and had arrived, after a day's sport, to within a mile or two of the bungalow, where his host and hostess were awaiting his arrival, when, passing by a

delightfully cool-looking river, he thought a plunge would be the most renovating luxury in existence; so a plunge he determined to take, sending on his servants with his guns, and an intimation, that in ten minutes he would be at home to dinner. So, stripping and placing his things very carefully on a stone, he began to luxuriate in the water, He was a capital swimmer, and had swam to some distance, when, to his horror and dismay, on looking to the place where he had left his habiliments, he perceived a dozen monkeys "overhauling" his entire wardrobe! one was putting its legs through the sleeve of his shirt; another cramming its head into his trousers; a third trying to find if any treasure was concealed in his boot; whilst the hat formed a sort of wonderment and amusement to some two or three others, who were endeavouring to unravel its mystery by unripping the lining, and taking half a dozen bites out of the brim. As soon as he regained his mental equilibrium, (for the thing was so ridiculous as to make him laugh heartily, notwithstanding his disgust at seeing his garments turned to such "vile purposes,") he made with all haste for the shore; but judge of his horror when he saw those "precious rascals" each catch up what he could lay hold of, and rattle off full speed into the jungle, not leaving poor Rogers even the vestige of an article of raiment to cover himself. All he heard was their triumphant chattering as they one by one disappeared, the last one lugging off his shirt, which, being rather awkward to carry, was continually tripping it up by getting between its legs. Here was a pretty pickle under a broiling sun! and here he stayed till the inmates of the bungalow, beginning to suspect some accident, came out in search, and found poor Rogers sitting up to his neck in water, in a frame of body and mind which we may conclude to be "more easily imagined than described."-Reminiscences of the late Major

Rogers.

SNAKES IN INDIA.

A DAY or two ago, the Maty bolted into the breakfast room, exclaiming, Sar, one snake, Sar! One big snake in godown. He very good snake, Sar!" This brute was a large deadly cobra-capello: it had hidden itself behind some bottles in a recess under the steps where the water is cooled. Awent directly to load his gun; and I peeped out, but could not go near enough to see the creature on account of the sun, and I calculate I should not have gone any nearer if it had been ever so shady. There stood all the palanquin-boys with bamboos in their hands, ready to beat if it came out, and all the peons peeping over their shoulders; array enough to take a tiger. A- forbade their killing it in that way, on account of the

danger of their getting bitten, if they missed a blow, and he shot it dead himself; after which they all dragged it out, and beat it to their heart's content. Two days afterwards, we were told of another cobra in a hole of a tree at the bottom of a garden; but while A was preparing his gun, one of the snakeconjurors came and charmed it out of its hole, and brought it into the garden to show us. It was quite fresh, its teeth not extracted, and its bite certain death; but this man had it perfectly under his command: he set it up, and made it dance, and when it tried to strike, he just whisked the tail of his gown into its face, and quieted it again. I offered to buy it, and pay him for killing and bottling it, but I could not persuade him to sell it at any price; he thought its possession would bring him good luck. In answer to my offers, the butler, who was interpreter, told me, "If missis put snake in bottle of rack, snake dead." "I know that," said I: "I like it dead." "Yes, ma'am, but that man like live." "What is the use of keeping it alive? sometimes snake bite." "No, ma'am, no can bite: that man snake conjure." However, to-day, the con

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juror came to say that he had found another cobra, so he was willing to sell me one if I liked it. Accordingly, he took it with his bare hands out of a brass pan which he brought with him, set it up, made it show its hood and dance a little, and then put it into a bottle of spirits, which soon killed it. The snakes have very much confirmed my belief in physiognomy. They certainly have a great deal of countenance; a cunning, cruel, spiteful look, that tells us at once that they are capable of any mischief; in short beaucoup de caractére, and the more venomous the snake, the worse his expression. The harmless ones look harmless. I think I should almost know a "too much good snake" by his too much bad countenance. The cobra is the worst; his eyes are quite hideous; and that boa-constrictor, at the Cape, was very disgusting. But, after all, I do not know that there is anything more horrid in the way of physiognomy than a shark: there is a coldblooded, fishy malignity in his eyes, that makes one shudder.-Letters from Madras, by a Lady.

SIR,

ORIGINAL LETTER OF MRS. FLETCHER.*

Madeley, Sept. 18th, 1809.

YOUR favour of the 14th I am desirous to answer, though but weak, being on the recovery from a slight fever.

The first head you mention is a mistake. I never had any personal appearance of my dear husband. The second, that he said he had works enough to recommend him to God, and had trusted too much to them, is absolutely false. The whole tenor of his soul, all his life, (after being brought to God,) and to his dying moment, is well expressed in these words, of which he was very fond :

"I nothing have, I nothing am,

My treasure's in the bleeding Lamb,
Both now and evermore!"

The gentleman you mentioned I do not recollect. May his prayer be fully answered, and all his soul filled with God. But I must acknowledge, though I have not had any

* Some time ago, during a visit into Yorkshire, I fell in with an original letter of Mrs. Fletcher, written in reply to some questions respecting her late revered husband, put to her by a friend of mine now in eternity. There being some points of interest in it, I forward you a copy, which you are at liberty to make what use of you may think proper. GEORGE SCAUM.

personal sight of my dear Mr. Fletcher, I have had spiritual intercourse with him in dreams; and have been much refreshed thereby. I have also heard his voice, as plain as when he was alive. I will relate one or two circumstances, though it is a subject I am not very free to speak on, as some cannot enter into it; but it is sure we are come to the spirits of the just made perfect. One night, soon after his death, I went to bed in much trouble, and very low, on several occasions which at that time occurred near morning I heard his dear voice, as if his face were on my pillow, saying,

:

"Fight the good fight of faith with me,
My fellow-soldier, fight!"

Another time, in the same situation, he said,

"For the joy that's set before thee,
Bear a momentary pain;

Die, to live the life of glory;

Suffer, with thy Lord to reign!"

The first two lines awoke me, and I heard the last when awake. Another time, after having conversed with him some time concerning the work of God here, he said, "Mr. is with us: he bid me tell thee And as I saw he was going away, I said, "My dear, don't thee visit me sometimes ?" He answered, "Yes, many times a day." Again I said, "And don't thee know

all concerning me?" He replied, "Yes!" Then added I, "When I am in trouble, pain, or danger, may I believe thee with me?" He was silent some time; at last said, "Why, yes; but it is as well for thee not to know it, for thy reliance must not be on me."

The person above alluded to, when he said "Mr. is with us," was a young man I knew when a boy, and had conversed with him about his soul, and lived about a hundred miles off; but I found he died happy a few weeks before this dream. It is now twenty-four years since my husband was taken to glory; and I have nothing to do but to get on my white robe, that I may behold my dear Redeemer as he doth. Last Tuesday, Sept. 12th, I was seventy; and had he lived here, he would have been eighty, for we

were both born on one day, as far as we know, only ten years between. I am going fast. O, that I may drink deeper into that pure stream, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb! My head is much affected, and I can hardly see; so must conclude,

Your affectionate sister in one common Lord, MARY FLETCHER.

If you read the account I have given of my dear Mr. Fletcher's death, in my letter to his brother, (most of which is taken into Mr. Benson's Life of Mr. Fletcher,) you will see the spirit he was in, and may judge for yourself.

MEMOIR OF MR. ALEXANDER

CALVERT.

DIED, September 2d, -1845, at Predmin, in the Middleham Circuit, Alexander Calvert, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. The early part of his life was spent in the service of sin. For several years he launched out boldly upon the sea of ungodliness, and dived with energy into its filthy depths; and learned, by sad experience, that it can yield to the most daring adventurer nothing but vexation, trouble, shame, the frown of God, affliction, and a premature death. He was ever ready to acknowledge that this was the only "fruit which he had in those things whereof" during many years of his life he was "ashamed; for the end of those things is death." Having the means of gratifying the lusts of his flesh, he gave the reins to his corrupt inclinations, and often spent days and nights in succession in adding drunkenness to thirst, in boisterous mirth and brutal sports; insomuch that he became the subject of dishonourable notoriety, and laid the foundation of disease, which years of temperance and piety could only mitigate, but not wholly remove.

The subject of this notice was arrested in his impious career, and awakened to a sense of his sin, folly, and imminent danger in his twenty-second year, under a sermon preached by the Rev. A. Jackson, a Minister of the Methodist New Connexion, from Rom. vi. 23, "The wages of sin is death," &c. The Preacher took occasion to show the expense of time, bodily labour, and cash which the ungodly were at to get to hell; how hard they wrought for the devil; how many hours in the day and night too they served him; and how much money, which they could ill spare, they paid in his cause; and

as a

the result of all this labour, suffering, and expense, was a right to an eternal dungeon in "that lake of fire and brimstone, where the smoke of their torments ascendeth up for ever and ever." The truth was 66 nail fastened in a sure place:" it made a deep impression on Mr. Calvert's heart. He was thoroughly convinced, not only of the impiety and baseness, but likewise of the extreme madness, of his former course of life; he trembled with apprehension of the wrath of God; mourned over his rebellions; and resolved from that time, in the strength of divine grace, "to cease to do evil, and to learn to do well."

The change wrought in our deceased friend's heart necessarily produced a very strongly-marked alteration in his life. He refused to be any longer the companion of fools, who make a mock of sin; he stood no longer in the way of sinners; neither walked he in their counsels; and when they enticed him, he refused to consent. He gave himself to prayer, and ardently sought a free pardon of the guilt of his manifold and abundant transgressions.

After having sorrowed under the burden of his sins a few weeks, he was enabled, by a faith which is of the operation of God, to cast that burden on the "Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world;" and being justified by faith, he had peace with God through Jesus Christ his Lord. He was filled with all joy and peace through believing. He felt he had much forgiven, and by consequence he loved much. He immediately became very zealous for the Lord God of Hosts; and whilst he was personally careful to walk as it became the Gospel, he mourned over the impiety which abounded around him. He boldly reproved