position of the soil being siliceous or quartzose. Several smaller pieces of fresh wood were also found strewn about, which had not been, perhaps, subject to the petrifying influence of the water.-Dr. Armstrong's Personal Narrative of the Discovery of the Northwest Passage. THE EFFECTS OF BLASTING ON ICE.-As we knew not how soon an opportunity would occur when gunpowder might aid or facilitate our advance, Captain M'Clure resolved to test its efficacy on a floe of last year's ice, about four feet thick, then in our immediate vicinity. A hole was accordingly bored until the water was reached, and a small cask containing forty-seven pounds of powder was placed beneath the floe, and ignited by means of Pickford's fuse. The explosion, which took place eleven minutes after the fuse was ignited, caused the ejection of a cloud of brokenice and water to an elevation of eighty or one hundred feet in the air, produced an opening in the ice twenty-five feet in diameter, from whence fissures radiated in different directions from sixty to two hundred feet. This experiment may be taken as a fair instance of the effects of a given charge of gunpowder on ice of a certain character, under the most favourable circumstances. The shock of the explosion was felt on board, which caused our bells to ring merrily without a pull. -Ibid. THE IMPORTANCE OF LIGHT.-Light affects the respiration of animals, just as it affects the respiration of plants. This is a novel doctrine, but it is demonstrable. In the day time we expire more carbonic acid than during the night; a fact known to physiologists, who explain it as the effect of sleep; but the difference is mainly owing to the presence or absence of sunlight; for sleep, as sleep, increases, instead of diminishing, the amount of carbonic acid expired, and a man sleeping will expire more carbonic acid than if he lies quietly awake under the same conditions of light and temperature; so that if less is expired during the night than during the day, the reason cannot be sleep, but the absence of light. Now we understand why men are sickly and stunted who live in narrow streets, alleys, and cellars, compared with those who, under similar conditions of poverty and dirt, live in the sunlight. "New Sea-side Studies." Blackwood. DIED IN INDIA. WHEN the wretched 6th Regiment 'mutinied at Alla, habad and murdered their officers, an ensign only sixteen years of age, who was left for dead among the rest, escaped in the darkness to a neighbouring ravine. Here he found a stream, the waters of which sustained his life for four days and nights. Although desperately wounded, he contrived to raise himself into a tree during the night for protection from wild beasts. Poor boy! he had a high commission to fulfil before death released him from his sufferings. On the fifth day he was discovered, and dragged by the brutal sepoys before one of their leaders, to have the little life left in him extinguished. There he found another prisoner, a Christian catechist, formerly a Mahomedan, whom the Sepoys were endeavouring to terrify and torment into a recantation. The firmness of the native was giving way as he knelt amid his persecutors, with no human sympathy to support him. The boy officer, after anxiously watching him for a short time, cried out. "Oh my friend, come what may, do not deny the Lord Jesus." Just at this moment the alarm of a sudden attack caused the instant flight of the murderous fanatics. The catechist's life was saved. He turned to bless the boy whose faith had strengthened his faltering spirit. But the young martyr had passed beyond all reach of human cruelty. He had entered into rest. OCTOBER. OCTOBER, the eighth month of the ancient Roman calendar, but the tenth of our improved system, is, if fine, one of the pleasantest months of our year. It has not the tender fresh greenness of spring, nor the noble and splendid flowers of summer; but it has, like every other month, its own peculiar beauty. Flowers still linger in our gardens, as the hardier fuschias, the Michaelmas daisy, and a few late kinds of rose, as fragrant as ever. In our hedgerows and fields, the golden rod, some of the thistles and other composite flowers, are still found; and the traveller's-joy, (clematis vitalba) with its greenish flowers and downy seeds, adorns the hedges. Most of the autumnal plants, as the thistles and the grounsels, or ragworts, (senecia) have feathery seeds; and the field-mouse, and other small hybernating animals (such as sleep through the winter) use them to line their nests. The woods and hedges, as their leaves fall off like ripened fruits, are brilliant with all the tints of yellow, red, brown, or dark green; and over all hangs the bluest of skies, flecked here and there with little snowy clouds. The woods and lanes are cheered by the song of the robin, and now and then by a few notes from the blackbird and thrush. And then, do not October sunrises and settings rival in beauty those of summer's mornings and evenings? How lovely, too, is the sea, beneath the clear transparent atmosphere of October; how fresh and invigorating its breezes to the languid frame, enfeebled by summer's heat, confinement to close rooms, and indoor occupations. There is also a time in human life resembling the year's autumn. But before the human autumn can resemble the calm loveliness of a fine October, there must, in its spring and summer, have been laid up a store of lovely and wise thoughts, to blossom and bear fruits, rich fruits of piety and goodness. The idle and wicked are like the dreary stormy October that we shrink from, and retreat to our calm fireside to avoid. Leaden coloured skies, pouring down torrents of rain, winds lashing the waves to foam, and sweeping down tall strong trees, sharp frosts withering the late-blooming flowers of our gardens, all the premature characteristics of winter occur sometimes in October; yet we know and feel that these natural occurrences are sent for good, are ruled by wisdom and benevolence. "Time and change are busy ever, Man decays and ages move; The torrents of rain fill the water courses that summer has dried up; the howling winds that sweep round the earth by their rapid force, renew and purify the heated, tainted air; and the ocean waves even, are freshened by the violence which dashes them together, and lashes their crests into foam. But the stormy wildness of the human autumn is no work of God. It is man's own doing; it is exquisitely and entirely painful to behold. How dreadful then to the slothful and wicked, whose illspent youth and maturity have thus brought on their punishment; who sowed the wind of stormy passions, and now reap the whirlwind of remorse, hatred, and contempt-self-hatred, self-contempt. And how sad, how pitiable, the case of those connected with the guilty; who cannot retreat from such storms-of the innocent sufferers by another's sins. Yet are the wicked even more to be pitied; for their innocent victim may still hold fast his integrity: his trials, like the storm-shaken oak, with all its graceful branches rent and torn, only root him the firmer on the "Rock of Ages," patience will have her perfect work. The form, bent with shame and sorrow at another's sins, thus chastened, may "attain to the height of the perfect man, the fulness of the stature of Christ." "Even the hour that darkest seemeth And in his love even to the sinful, God appoints sufferings to sin, sufferings to recall the wanderer; sufferings to chasten and purify the nature the sinner has degraded. God hates sin, but not the sinner; for he sent Christ to seek and to save the lost, as well as to be the pattern of perfect obedience and goodness. J. A THE PRIZE DAY. "I say unto you-love your enemies." On the First of May the large village of Wilby Magna was in a state of great excitement. Troops of children in their Sunday clothes were assembling in the streets, bearing streamers and gay flags decked out with ribbons and evergreens. The shops were gaily decorated, but above all the school-house shone in all the glory of bright banners and floating ribbons. What was the great occasion which called forth all this rejoicing? The giving away of the prizes; a very great occasion it was to many of the young aspirants after honours. Forming in procession in the central place, the scholars proceeded toward the school-house, carrying the gay flags with great pride and glee. Over the door a large tri-coloured banner was streaming, and wreaths of flowers and evergreens ornamented the stone front and porches. The children were accompanied by their friends and parents, all eager and anxious as to the result of the examination; and all went trooping into the house. Then the young ladies from the hall came cantering up on their pretty bay ponies, and when they had dismounted and were fairly seated, the examiners took up their books, and the work began in earnest. The pupils looked very grave as question followed question-geography, history, arithmetic, spelling-and the interest became more and more intense. At last the two head boys came forward to contest the first prize. One, Harry Lamore, was a fine lad, tall, slender, frank, and honest, but certainly not handsome. other, Richard Atwell, also tall, strong, and healthy, stood beside him-dark-haired, dark-eyed, handsome, and self-confident, but with a temper looking through those handsome eyes, that gave a forbidding look to his whole countenance. Both were about the same age, both had closely contested the prize through the whole half-year; and the result of the present examination would of course decide the victory. The Answer after answer, and still both were equal. The examiners questioned more and more closely-then |