of nutrition, motion, &c. There are shell-fish so small, that, even viewed through the microscope, they appear scarcely so large as a grain of barley; and yet they are real animals, with durable dwelling-places, the foldings and recesses of which, form so many different apartments. How exceedingly small is a mite: nevertheless, this almost imperceptible point, seen through a microscope, is a hairy animal, perfect in all its members, of a regular figure, full of life and sensibility, and provided with every necessary organ. Although this animal is scarcely visible to us, yet it has a multitude of still smaller parts; and, what is yet more admirable, the glasses which show us so many faults and imperfections in the most finished works of man, can observe nothing but regularity and perfection in these microscopic objects! How inconceivably thin and slender are the threads of a spider! It has been calculated, that it would take 36,000 of them to make the thickness of a thread of common sewing silk! Each of the six papillæ from which the spider draws that glutinous liquor of which it forms its web, is composed of a thousand insensible pores, which give passage to so many threads; so that, however fine the spider's thread may appear, it is composed of 6000 smaller ones!

You are struck with astonishment: but, suppose we had microscopes which could magnify some thousands of times more than those glasses do, through which a mite appears no larger than a grain of barley, what wonders should we then see! And, even then, Should we reach the limits of creation in these inconceivably small productions? Certainly not: and it would be presumption and extravagance to believe it. Each creature has a kind of infinity; and the more we contemplate the works of God, the more the wonders of his power shall be multiplied in our sight.

Our imagination is confounded in the two extremes of nature, the great and the small; and we know not whether we should admire the Divine power more in those enormous masses which roll over our heads, or in those micro

scopic objects which are invisible to the naked eyes. Should not the contemplation of the works of God be our most pleasing occupation? The trouble of study would be amply compensated by the pure and innocent pleasures which it would afford. It would at least awaken in us an ardent desire to arrive in those blessed regions where we should require neither microscopes nor telescopes to enable us to discover the wondrous works of God. There all his works shall be so unveiled to our eyes, that we shall be able to distinguish the destination, structure, and relations of each object. There immortal songs of praise shall resound to the honour of the Creator of the universe. There all distinction of great and small shall be entirely done away; for every thing shall appear great in our sight, and fill our souls with admiration and joy!

SIXTH WEEK-MONDAY.

REASON IN THE LOWER ANIMALS.

INSTINCT, if the definition which I have given of it in my paper of Saturday be correct, will not account for all the operations of the lower animals. Instinct is uniform. It belongs to all the species nearly in the same degree. The young possess it as soon as they are produced; or, at least, as soon as their bodily powers will enable them to employ it, in as great perfection as the old. It is not communicated by instruction; it is not learned by experience. The young bee, for instance, the moment it leaves the cell where it has been produced and cradled, cleans its body, smooths its wings, then leaves its hive, and flies, without a guide or teacher, to the nearest flower, where, using its feelers, and inserting its proboscis, it sips the sweet nectar with which the Author of Nature has, for its use, filled so many vegetable cups, and then returns to its native roof, tracing its solitary way through the

trackless air, and deposits the gleanings of its industry, to add to the hoarded treasures of the parent swarm. Then, again, it exudes the secreted wax from the rings of its body; and, still without instruction, begins to form those wonderful hexagonal cells, the scientific construction of which the mathematician has found such reason to admire. All this is instinct.

Yet, though there is wisdom here, it is not that of the animal, but of its Creator. It has been guided to these intelligent works by a blind impulse. This, however, is not the case with many of the actions of the inferior creation; and, however difficult it may be to draw the line between reason and instinct, I believe no person who has, without prejudice, studied the character and habits of the living creatures below him, will find it easy to deny them at least some glimpses of that higher faculty to which his own species has the most appropriate claim. A few well authenticated instances will illustrate this remark.

I have the following anecdote from a gentleman* of undoubted veracity, and acute observation, in the vicinity of Dumfries. A few years ago this gentleman had beautified his residence, by converting a morass in its neighbourhood into an extensive piece of water, which he had stocked with fish; and, as places of retreat for these tenants of his lake, he had caused numerous roots of trees to be thrown in here and there, which were usually hid below the surface. This year (1836), however, the unusually dry spring, caused the necessary supply of water unexpectedly to fail, and the pond sank so low, that some of the roots made their appearance, and on one of these, more elevated than the others, a pair of wild ducks constructed their inartificial nest, and the female had already laid some eggs, when the weather changed, and the descending rains having filled the streams by which the lake was fed, the surface gradually rose, and threatened to overwhelm the labours of this luckless

Lennox, Esq. of Dalscairth.

pair, and to send the eggs adrift on the swelling waves. Here instinct had no resource. It was an unexpected occurrence, for which this faculty could not provide; but if any glimmerings of reason belonged to these fond parents, it might be expected to be exerted. And so it was. Both the duck and the drake were observed to be busily employed in collecting and depositing materials; presently the nest, which the rising waters had already reached, was seen to emerge as it were from the flood; more and more straw and grass were added, till several inches of new elevation was gained, and the nest, with its precious contents, appeared to be secure. Here the fond mother patiently brooded her full time; and one duckling rewarded her care; when, just as it had escaped from the shell, another torrent of rain fell, more sudden and more violent than the first; the water rose higher and higher; the nest, and remaining eggs, were swept away. In this emergency, the whole attention of the parents was given to the living progeny, which was safely conveyed by them to the shore, where another nest was constructed; and their sagacity and solicitude were finally crowned with success.

An example of a still higher order of intelligence is recorded by Mr Jesse, in his "Gleanings in Natural History," which came under his own observation :—“ I was one day," says he, "feeding the poor elephant (who was so barbarously put to death at Exeter Change) with potatoes, which he took out of my hand. One of them, a round one, fell on the floor, just out of the reach of his proboscis. He leaned against his wooden bar, put out his trunk, and could just touch the potato, but could not pick it up. After several ineffectual efforts, he at last blew the potato against the opposite wall, with sufficient force to make it rebound; and he then, without difficulty, secured it." If we can believe that this extraordinary action was any thing but mere accident,— that this half-reasoning animal, as the elephant has been called, really intended the potato to rebound within his

reach, it is impossible to deny the justice of Mr Jesse's conclusion, that it could not be instinct which taught him to procure his food in this manner; and that it must, therefore, have been reason which "enabled him to be so good a judge of cause and effect."

In some of the insect tribes, there seems to be an extraordinary faculty, which, if it can be called instinct, surely approaches to the highest faculty possessed by man, I mean the power of communicating information by some natural language. Huber affirms, "that nature has given to ants a language of communication, by the contact of their antennæ; and that, with these organs, they are enabled to render mutual assistance in their labours and in their dangers, discover again their route when they have lost it, and make each other acquainted with their necessities." This power seems to be confirmed by what occurred to Dr Franklin. Upon discovering a number of ants regaling themselves with some treacle in one of his cupboards, he put them to the rout, and then suspended the pot of treacle by a string from the ceiling. He imagined that he had put the whole army to flight, but was surprised to see a single ant quit the pot, climb up the string, cross the ceiling, and regain its nest. In less than half an hour, several of its companions sallied forth, traversed the ceiling, and reached the repository, which they constantly revisited, till the treacle was consumed. The same power of communication belongs also to bees and wasps; as may be proved by any one who carefully attends to their habits. This is their language, not of articulate sounds, indeed, but of signs, a language which, as Jesse observes, we can have no doubt is perfectly suited to them,—adding, we know not how much, to their happiness and enjoyments, and furnishing another proof that there is a God allmighty, all-wise, and all-good, who has ornamented the universe' with so many objects of delightful contemplation, that we may see Him in all His works, and learn, not only to fear Him for His power, but to love

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