within the ditch, and encompassing the whole area, was a series of large upright stones, consisting of one hundred in number. These stones were placed at the distance of twenty-seven feet from each other, and usually measured from fifteen to seventeen feet in height, and about forty feet in circumference. Within the area of this circle, the diameter of which was about 1400 feet, were two double circles, each consisting of two concentric circles, comprising the same number of stones, and displaying the same method of arrangement. Both of the exterior circles were about 466 feet in diameter, formed by thirty stones of similar dimensions, and equally distant from each other, as in the large enclosing circle. The inner ones consisted of twelve stones of like proportions, and had similar intervening spaces; and the diameter of their area was 186 feet. In the interior of the southern concentric circle was an upright stone, of larger size than any of the others; as it measured more than twenty feet in height; and within the northern one was a group of stones, which has been variously termed a nebla, niche, or cove. This was formed of three stones, placed perpendicularly, and having a large flat stone for an impost; which appears to have measured originally about seventeen feet by thirty-five. Near this, on the ground, lay a large flat stone, toward the east, or rather north east. There were two entrances into the grand circle, one from the south-east, and the other from the south-west. These were approached by two avenues, or double rows of upright stones, extending a mile in length, and each formed by one hundred stones, placed at nearly equal distances. One of these avenues, which extended itself to Overton, had at its farther extremity a double concentric circle, of smaller dimensions than those already mentioned; the stones being placed at shorter intervals. The other division of this circle was formed of forty stones, most of which were about five feet high; and its inner portion, of eighteen stones of a larger size. The diameter of the former was 120 feet, and that of the latter forty-five. The other avenue, which extended to Beckhampton, had at its termination only a single large upright stone, which was standing a few years ago; and near it are several large barrows. On the northern side of this avenue, at the fiftieth stone, was a group of three stones, resembling the cove already described. In its original state, this extraordinary temple, according to Dr. Stukeley, consisted of 650 stones, exclusive of a large cromlech, about a mile to the north, the vast barrow, called Silbury Hill, and numerous others surrounding it; all apparently connected with, and belonging to, the work. Most of these, however, have been broken to pieces, by means of fire and manual labor; and the fragments appropriated to the erection of walls and houses, and the formation of roads. It is probable that Avebury is of far greater antiquity than its more noted rival, Stonehenge. To what uses these astonishing structures were appropriated, is a question calculated to excite much speculation. We may reasonably conclude that they were the work of the aborigines of Britain; which opinion is strengthened by the fact, that numerous barrows, tumuli, roads, and other works, are to be found in their vicinity. It is well known that our British ancestors held the doctrine of the immortality of the soul; and this belief was so strong, that they burned or buried with the dead those things which were most useful or agreeable to them when alive; supposing that they would be equally so in another life; such as cups, weapons, necklaces, and animals. Innumerable specimens of such things are therefore constantly found on opening these barrows, the sacred depositories of the dead. The immense erection at Avebury was doubtless raised for national purposes; and there, perhaps, the chiefs assembled, as in parliament, to debate the affairs of the nation. GEORGE PRYCE. FEMALE CHARACTER. President Edwards' visit to Windsor, in September, gave him his last opportunity of seeing his sister Jerusha, whom he tenderly loved, and who, a little time before, had passed a considerable time with her friends in Northampton. She was attacked with a malignant fever in December, and on the 22d of that month died at her father's house. The uncommon strength and excellence of her character rendered her peculiarly dear to all her relatives and friends; and from the testimonials of her father, of four of her sisters, and of a friend of the family at a distance, written soon after her death, I have ascertained the following particulars:-She was born in June, 1710, and, on the testimony of that friend, was a young lady of great sweetness of temper, of a fine understanding, and of a beautiful countenance. She was devoted to reading from childhood, and though fond of books of taste and amusement, she customarily preferred those which require close thought, and are fitted to strengthen and inform the mind. Like her sisters, she had received a thorough education, both English and classical, and by her proficiency had justified the views of her father, and sustained the honor and claims of her sex. In conversation she was solid and instructive beyond her years, yet at the same time was sprightly and active, and had an uncommon share of wit and humor. Her wit was always delicate and kind, and used merely for recreation. According to the rule she prescribed to another, it "constituted the sauce, and not the food, in the entertainment." Being fond of retirement and meditation from early life, she passed much of her leisure time in solitary walks in the groves behind her father's house; and the richness of her mind, in moral reflection and philosophical remark, proved that these hours were not wasted in reverie, but occupied by solid thought and profitable contemplation. Habitually serene and cheerful, she was contented and happy; not envious of others, nor desirous of admiration, not ambitious nor aspiring; and while she valued highly the esteem of her friends, and of the wise and good, she was firmly convinced that her happiness depended, chiefly and ultimately, on the state of her own mind. She appeared to have gained the entire government of her temper and her passions, and discovered uncommon equanimity and firmness under trials, and while in difficult cases, she sought the best advice, yet ultimately acted for herself. Her religious life began in childhood; and from that time, meditation, prayer and reading the sacred Scriptures were not a prescribed task, but a coveted enjoyment. Her sisters, who knew how much of her time she daily passed alone, had the best reason to believe that no place was so pleasant to her as her own retirement, and no society so delightful as solitude with God. She read theology, as a science, with the deepest interest, and pursued the systematic study of the Scriptures by the help of the best commentaries. Her observance of the Sabbath was exemplary, in solemnly preparing for it, in allotting to it the prescribed hours, and in devoting it only to sacred employments; and in the solemn and entire devotion of her mind to the duties of the sanctuary, she appeared habitually to feel with David, "Holiness becometh thine house for ever." Few persons attend more closely to preaching, or judge more correctly concerning it, or have higher pleasure in that which is solid, pungent, and practical. She saw and conversed with God, in his works of creation and providence. Her religious joy was, at times, intense and elevated. After telling one of her sisters, on a particular occasion, that she could not describe it, she observed to her, that it seemed to her like a streak of light shining in a dark place; and reminded her of a line in Watts' Lyrics: "And sudden from the cleaving skies Her conscience was truly enlightened, and her conduct appeared to be governed by principle. She approved of the best things, discovered great reverence for religion, and strong attachment to the truly pious and conscientious; was severe in her estimate of herself, and charitable in judging of others; was not easily provoked, and usually tried to excuse the provocation; was unapt to cherish prejudices, and lamented, and strove to conceal the faults of Christians. CABINET OF NATURE. FALLS OF THE MONTMORENCY. The Montmorency empties itself at the distance of about eight miles north-east of Quebec, into the great river St. Lawrence, to the coast of which it gradually descends from the elevated mountain on which it has its source. At a station called La Motte, situated on the northern extremity of a sloping ground, its waters diffuse themselves into shallow currents, interrupted by rocks which break them into foam, and accompanied by murmuring sounds which enliven the solitude and solemn stillness prevailing throughout the surrounding forests and desolate hills. Farther down, its channel is bounded by precipitous rocks, its breadth becoming extremely contracted, and the rapidity of its current proportionably augmented. At a place called "the natural steps" there are several beautiful cascades of ten or twelve feet. These steps, which are extremely regular, have been gradually formed by the accession of waters the river receives in its progress, at the breaking up of winter, by the melting of the snows. From the middle of April to the end of May, its waters roll with increasing height and rapidity. Being powerfully impelled in their course, they insinuate themselves between the strata of the horizontal rock, vast fragments of which are detached by the rushing violence of the sweeping torrent. On the eastern side, the bank, which is almost perpendicular, and fifty feet high, is surmounted by lofty trees. The south-west bank rises beyond the steps, and terminates in a precipice. On the opposite side, the bank is regular, and of a singular shape, resembling the ruin of an elevated wall. The trees by which the banks are |