our attention shall be directed to the character and qualities of the soil itself.

In the previous volume, it was mentioned, that, in its primitive state, the crust of our earth seems to have been barren, waste, and void, consisting entirely of rocks and water, without soil, without vegetation, and without animal life; and that the first scanty soil was gradually formed by the breaking down and abrading of the rocks, which prepared Nature for the sustenance of organized beings. Such is the geological theory; but whether it be admitted or not, there is no doubt that our present productive soil consists chiefly of minute particles of stone, mingled with calcareous substances, which are the spoils of marine animals, and with fat earth, being the remains of all kinds of organized bodies in a state of decomposition.

With this kind of soil, we find the surface of the earth generally covered to a greater or less depth. There are, indeed, exceptions to this, which give rise to rocky and barren wastes; but these exceptions serve to confirm the general rule, and are not so numerous as to throw the slightest doubt on the intention of the arrangement, so wise and so beneficent, by which,most extensive provision has been made for a vegetation suitable to the support of living creatures over the surface of the earth. It might have been otherwise. There seems to be nothing in the ordinary laws of Nature which rendered such an arrangement necessary, or even probable. It is true, that a disintegration of rocks is occasioned by the action of the atmosphere; and that water, whether in the form of rain, of mountain torrents, or of constantly flowing rivers, is continually and actively employed in spreading the soil thus formed, over the low grounds, or carrying it into lakes or seas, on which it makes encroachments, by the formation of new deposits. But such causes, however powerful they may be, could only be partial in their operation. They tend to fill up valleys, and extend the boundaries of the dry land; but the extent of their operation must, even in a long series of ages, be comparatively very limited. Such agents give rise merely

to what has been called alluvial soil, such as is found along the low banks, and at the mouths of rivers; and, if these were the only places where soil was deposited, it is easy to conceive what a naked and sterile waste the general surface of the earth would be. By far the greatest proportion of the soil is to be found in situations, and under circumstances, where the action of water, in any of the ways we have enumerated, instead of accumulating it, must have a tendency to wash it away. Such is the

earth which covers all the elevated grounds, from the mountain ranges down to the gentle declivities which form by far the greater part of the cultivated lands. This is called diluvium by geologists, because, as stated in the preceding volume, it is justly believed to have been deposited by the turbid and agitated waters which passed over the surface of the globe, either immediately before the era of the Mosaic creation, or during the subsequent deluge in the time of Noah, or rather at both of these periods.

But, whatever were the agents employed, the effect is altogether providential; and the more we consider the general aspect of the earth, in other particulars, the more reason will we have to believe that the fertile covering with which it is enveloped, is the arrangement of an Intelligent and Contriving Mind. Maltè Brun, in his System of Geography, says that "the structure of the globe presents, in all its parts, the features of a grand ruin ;” and, for the truth of this, he appeals to the confusion and overthrow of most of its strata; the irregular succession of those which seem to remain in their original situations; the wonderful variety which the direction of the veins, and the forms of the caverns display; the immense heaps of confused and broken substances, and the transportation of enormous blocks to a great distance from the mountains of which they appear to have formed a part. All this is undeniable and striking, and obviously indicates some mighty catastrophe, or succession of catastrophes, by which the ancient strata of the earth have been broken up, overturned, and dislocated. But the more we become aware of the disorder in which the materials of the

earth are placed, the more shall we be struck with the proofs which meet us on every hand, of a regulating and overruling Power, which has controlled that seeming disorder, and rendered it subservient to His own beneficent purposes.

I have already had occasion to advert to this view, in other instances; but let us at present apply it to the subject before us. Had the disruption and ruin, alluded to by Malte Brun, and familiar to all geologists, taken place by the mere agency of mechanical causes-by some accidental explosion, for example, of a central fire, or by some oversetting of the equilibrium of the earth, or by the casual collision of a comet, without the intervention of Divine Wisdom, can it be supposed that this vast ruin would have been every where so wonderfully overspread with a soil fitted for the nourishment of vegetable and animal life? On the doctrine of chances, is this within the bounds of probability? It is not denied, indeed, that there are ranges of rocky mountains, and a considerable extent of barren deserts; but, even allowing that such interruption to the general fertility were really a defect in the system, which, as regards the former, has been shown to be far from the truth, does not the actual arrangement, after making every possible deduction, appear clearly to be such as to preclude all idea of its being fortuitous? No candid man, who adverts to the nature of the substances of which the crust of the earth is composed, can resist the conclusion, that the clothing of its surface with vegetable mould is as much a display of skill and intention, as the enclosing of the human body in an elastic and sensitive skin, or the covering of the winged tribes with the beautiful apparatus of light and downy feathers.

In adverting to the properties of the soil, there are several things very worthy of remark, with regard to which, a slight and cursory observation may at present suffice. To insure its fertility, it is necessary, on the one hand, that it should be sufficiently open and pulverized, to imbibe the moisture which falls from the heavens ; and, on the other, sufficiently tenacious to retain it in a certain

proportion, while it rejects what is superfluous. That this requires some nicety of adjustment, every agriculturist is well aware, as well as that, taken on an average, this adjustment has actually been established. Had the soil been, in any great degree, either more retentive or more porous, it would not have been fit for the nourishment of plants. Again, there are certain qualities characterized as vegetative, which are essential to a productive soil. To particularize these,would lead us too much into detail; and it seems sufficient to remark, that such qualities are very generally diffused. We do, sometimes, indeed, as I have already stated, meet with unproductive tracts, and these wastes may occasionally be the effect of barren sand, or impervious clay; but, compared with the extent of the earth's surface, these are as nothing; and, when the various ingredients of mould, suitable for vegetation, are considered, it cannot but be regarded as a proof of providential care, that they should exist in such profusion, and be so widely spread over every region of the globe.

I need scarcely add, that there is further required an adjustment between the soil and the weather, to insure the developement of its fertile qualities, and that this adjustment also has been established. Whatever be the climate, from the extreme heat of the tropics, till, towards the poles, the cold becomes too intense for the comfortable existence of animal life, the earth is covered with the mould adapted for the nourishment of such vegetables as that climate is capable of bringing to maturity.

These considerations sufficiently indicate the superintendence of an Almighty Designer, and loudly call for the devout admiration and gratitude of that rational race on whom He has bestowed the high faculty of tracing His hand in His works, and the glorious privilege of giving utterance to the sentiments which His perfections inspire.

SECOND WEEK-WEDNESDAY.

VEGETATION.

Or all the wonders with which we are surrounded in this mysterious world, there is none more worthy of admiration, than the principle of life in organized existences. Its essence is far beyond the human ken, but some of its properties we perceive and can investigate.

The chief intention of the Creator in all the arrangements on the surface of our globe, is, doubtless, the support and enjoyment of sentient beings; and, above all, the education of intelligent creatures for a higher mode of existence. But it would appear that the crude materials of which the unorganized crust of the earth is composed, were not found, in the great plan of the Creator, to be suitable for the first of these purposes, the sustenance of animal life; and therefore an intermediate mode of existence was to be employed, by which the proper nourishment of living creatures was, by a most curious and skilful process, to be extracted from the soil, and to be scattered profusely over the face of the earth, in various forms, containing all the qualities of beauty and utility. Such is the vegetable world; a system, which, while it admirably fulfils its primary destination, is at the same time adapted, with consummate wisdom, to perform other functions of great importance in the economy of the animated creation.

The first property necessary for the continued existence of vegetation, is the power of absorbing from the surrounding elements the materials which constitute its nourishment. For this purpose, each individual plant, with few exceptions, is connected with the soil by a root, and shoots up in the air by a stalk, and expands itself generally by means of branches and leaves, thus drawing its nutriment both from the soil and the atmosphere, and opening its bosom to the genial influences of light and heat.