it feeds by an oily acrid liquid of most author, "The history of insects should be is worn, the whole garment will ravel the force of the Scripture caution, "Take heed to thyself, and keep thy soul diligently," Deut. iv. 9; and while he thus guards with earnest, constant watchfulness, against the first, the least deviation from the ways of the Lord, will not also find daily and hourly need to implore, by earnest prayer, the help of the Omnipotent, to detect the deceitfulness with which his own heart would deceive him, and remove from his eyes the veil wherewith the adversary would blind him. Thus did the psalmist implore, "Cleanse thou me from secret faults. Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting," Psa. xix. 12; cxxxix. 13, 14. Lord, search my soul, try every thought; I beg the trial of thine eyes. Doth secret mischief lurk within? WATTS. Much difficulty has been experienced by those who have written upon the elm, by the many varieties which are found among us, and which appear continually to be multiplied. Hence the species has been very differently arranged by various botanists. It is now, however, ascertained that the elm, when raised from seed, rarely proves true to the tree from which it is gathered; and modern writers are disposed to consider all the European elms as varieties of only two species, the Ulmus campestris, (to which our observations have principally referred,) and U. montana, or, as it is generally called, the Scotch or wych elm. Even these two have by some been considered only varieties of one common parent. Yet though casual observers may discern no difference between them, there are many and well-defined circumstances in which they vary. Not only are the leaves of the wych much larger, and, generally speaking, much lighter in colour than those of the field elm, the flowers on long footstalks rather than sessile, and its shoots formed like long and straight wands, instead of the regular and forked ramification to which we have alluded in describing our common species; but the general character of its growth is widely dissimilar, being rather that of a broad and spreading, than an erect and lofty tree. Even in the month of September, the wych gives sign of the approach of winter, and frequently before the first frosts, its leaves shrivel, turn brown, and fall rustling to the ground, leaving its bare and denuded form a striking contrast to the common elm, which preserves its verdure to a much later period, and even then forms, by its rich mellow golden hue, an important feature in our autumn landscape. The wych elm, too, never throws up suckers from its roots, but produces abundance of perfect seeds, by which it is extensively multiplied, while the field elm is solely propagated by suckers or layers; the seed, as has been already observed, rarely, if ever, ripening in these localities. The species most generally found in our midland and southern counties, and that to which our preceding observations have referred, U. campestris, is, as has been stated, considered by many as not indigenous among us; but U. montana, the wych, or Scotch elm, as it is sometimes distinguished, is an undoubted native of the northern districts of our island, being found not only in the lowland vallies, but in the remotest parts of the highlands. In these, its indigenous localities, it is indeed a valuable tree, and presents an object of no common interest; and forming as characteristic a feature of that wild mountainous scenery as the birch, or fir, or mountain ash. "For our part," writes sir T. O. Lander, "we consider the wych or Scotch elm as one of the most beautiful trees of our British sylva. The trunk is so bold and picturesque in form, covered as it frequently is with huge excrescences; the limbs and branches are so free and graceful in their growth, and the foliage so rich, without being heavy or clumpy as a whole; and the head is generally so finely massed, and yet so well broken, as to render it one of the noblest of park trees; and when it grows wildly amid the rocky scenery of its native Scotland, there is no tree which assumes so great or so pleasing a variety of character." The value of its timber has been extolled by many authors as superior to that of the common species; but though this may be the case in those northern districts where the one is a native, the other a foreigner, the general opinion of the most able judges does not support the opinion. On our more level districts, probably from the thicker nature of the soil, though the growth of the wych far exceeds the com of this green, yet uninhabited, uncultivated, joyless desert. Rome sits here in lonely grandeur on her plain, a type of what Rome was of old in the midst of the world. The approach to Rome by this ancient Appian way has great moral grandeur. For thirteen or fifteen miles, pieces of ancient pavement, ancient walls of bricks built chequer - wise, shapeless ruins, masses of rubbish of considerable elevation, arches of demolished buildings, monuments with inscriptions not legible, fountains not running, and broken ranges of aqueducts for conveying water from the hills, are scattered in all mon elm in rapidity, the wood is very | city of Rome sits by herself in the midst inferior in strength and durability, and also in the length of the planks produced. It is, nevertheless, well suited for many purposes, and is even recommended as a substitute for ash, when that cannot be procured. In former days, when the long bow was the main weapon by which our gallant yeomen defended their country's cause, or extended her dominion, it was not considered an object beneath the attention of the legislature to regulate concerning it; and in a statute of Edward Iv. we find the wych named among other woods of which it was to be made, and placed second only to the yew. Though we have principally spoken of it as grow-directions upon the deserted plain-deing in the northern parts of our island, it is found in many woods in various counties, where the soil is congenial to its growth. In Hampshire it abounds, and is there commonly called the witch hazle. By old writers the name is usually spelled as witch, though wych is now the more general form, and by many is the only name given to this species, though it was formerly indifferently applied to all. Some have supposed that it originated from the use which, from time immemorial, has been made of its timber in the salt works, for the pipes or troughs by which the water was conducted from the springs to the large pans or reservoirs in which the watery particles were evaporated by heat, and the saline particles retained; wich or wych being the general term given by our ancestors to such localities, and in many of them, as Droitwich, Nantwich, etc., it is yet retained. Others have conjectured that the name was applied from the superstitious notion that its wood was an antidote to the effects of witchcraft. Even in the present day, it is not unusual in the dairies of some of the midland counties to make a small hole in the churn, and insert a small piece of this wood, as without such a precaution, the country people imagine the butter would not " come. serted by man, yet covered with the remains of human power, and with the habitations of an extinct population. There is no sound or sign of human industry on this lifeless sea of grass. The lark singing in the sky, and a solitary shepherd and his dog in the distant horizon, are all of living objects that strike ear or eye. You reach the gate of Rome through the seclusion and solitude of the grave. Within it, all is as silent, solemn, and destitute of movement as without. A clerical-looking soldier on guard, a half-asleep functionary of the customhouse, a few labourers working at unusually slow time in the repair of the causeway, are all the concourse at the gate of the mistress of the world. You pass the gate, are within her walls, and are still in the country, with fields, gardens, and vineyards on each hand. Roads bounded by white walls on each side, a crucifix at every turn of the road, and in the distance a beggar or a monk crossing it, are all that for nearly a mile within the gate, reminds you that here is Rome. But our road becomes a street at last, with houses, palaces, churches, ruins, temples, triumphal arches, statues, fountains, priests, monks, soldiers, people, shops, carriages, bustle, and business. THE CITY OF ROME. ALBANO stands on high ground, from which the descent into the great plain of the Campagna is very impressive. This plain of the Campagna, boundless to the eye, is without trees, or houses, or ponds, or running waters; but is one vast sheet of dry, fine pasture grass, thickly studded with shapeless remains of buildings. The KNOWLEDGE IS NECESSARY. To write or talk concerning any subject, without having previously taken the pains to understand it, is a breach of the duty which we owe to ourselves, though it may be no offence against the laws of the land. The privilege of talking, and even publishing, nonsense is necessary in a free state; but the more sparingly we make use of it the better.-Coleridge. WHIRLPOOLS AND WHIRLWINDS. A WHIRLPOOL is a vortex, eddy, or gulf, where the water has a circular motion. Whirlpools are produced by the meeting of currents which run in different directions. Their danger to navigators is well known, but is perhaps not equal to the dread which sailors entertain of them. A whirlwind is a revolving column or mass of air, supposed, with most probability, to be produced by the meeting of two currents of air blowing in opposite directions, but ascribed by some to electricity. It is analagous to the whirlpool. When the opposite currents have the same velocity, the circulation will be maintained at the same spot; but if the motion of one of them is more rapid than that of the other, it will transport the whirling motion with its excess of celerity, and a progressive and rotatory motion are thus maintained at the same time. Whirlwinds generally occur in summer, and are most violent in tropical countries, where NOVEMBER, 1843. they frequently produce most destructive effects. Some of the circumstances of the waterspout are thought to be explained, by considering the spout as a whirlwind carrying up drops of the water which it has separated from the waves. THE PERAMBULATOR. A VISIT TO THE SEVEN SISTERS. THOUGH Some readers may marvel at the subject here presented, inasmuch as it is not at all likely they will be able of themselves to divine what it may mean, yet will others, who happen to live on the north side of the metropolis, give a shrewd guess who and what the seven sisters are, about to be introduced to their attention. With these fair ladies I became acquainted many years ago, but though much attention has been paid on my part to them, I cannot with propriety boast that they have ever paid any attention to me. Before, however, I proceed any farther 2 I in my account, I will at once remove all mystery respecting them by a few plain words of explanation. On a small green, at a distance of about four or five miles from London, on the right hand side of the road, and within sight of the new church as you enter Tottenham, stands a goodly group of elm trees in a circle, leaving a fair space in the centre. Even in the broad glare of day the place has an air of shadowy seclusion; but when evening draws on, it is shrouded with mysterious solemnity. You may not be so fond of elm trees as I am, and might not, therefore, be drawn aside so easily by those in question; but rarely or ever do I approach the group without feeling a desire to muse for a season among them. They cast so grateful a shade in sunshine, they afford so comfortable a shelter in the storm, and present at all times so retired and influential an appearance, that, even when I do not turn aside to greet them, to pass by without a pause, or some token of friendly recognition, is impossible. A spot so attractive to the passer-by, so soothing to the meditative mind, and so well suited to foster the wilder phantasies of superstition, was not likely, in times gone by, to remain long without having attached to it some popular tradition, and, indeed, many a shadowy legend and superstitious tale has reached me respecting these elms; the most intelligible of them implies that very many years ago, in a then adjoining mansion lived seven sisters. Six of them being fair to look upon, and withal of agreeable dispositions, married happily, and prospered in the world; but the seventh, being deformed and of an unkind and fretful temper, pined away discontented and neglected. What these ladies had to do with the planting of the trees is not set forth in the tradition, nor is it explained why there should have existed so close and mysterious an affinity between them; but it seems that the seven elm trees were to remain as living emblems or illustrations of the seven sisters. Six were to flourish, and one to decay; and certain it is, that at the present time, one of the seven is a stunted, deformed, and decaying trunk; while the other six are comparatively full grown, fair, and flourishing trees. Many who visit the place, disbelieving the tale, are more than half convinced of its authenticity, when they see, with their own eyes, the distorted and withering tree standing before them. Now, it may be that I have stumbled on a very inaccurate account of the tradition, which has doubtless assumed many shapes, but as my only object has been to assign the generally received reason why these seven elms bear the appellation of the seven sisters, whether there are legends more striking or better entitled to credence than the one thus presented to my readers, is a matter of very little importance. I purpose now to dismiss from my mind all that is legendary, traditionary, and mysterious, and to regard the seven sisters as seven elm trees. When I look at these trees from the road they seem sweetly to harmonize one with another, like a group of the same family dwelling together for the sake of companionship. At times, too, when the shadows of evening have clothed them with solemnity, and all has been silent around, they have impressed me with the same kind of awe, which has rested on my spirit when approaching the ruin of Stonehenge on Salisbury Plain. Not equal in degree, but of the same character, driving away from the mind all that is trifling, and drawing it to the consideration of what is weighty and important. They form just such an object as the artist would delight to dash with hasty pencil on a leaf of his sketch book. They present just such an inviting appearance to the thoughtful passerby as is certain to allure his footsteps, and leave such an influence on the meditative mind as deeply to dispose it to serious reflection. Here am I now, in the very centre of the group, marking the variety of form that they individually represent. As I stand with my face towards the north, the stunted, twisted, and unsightly tree, to which I have already alluded, is a little on the left. I could almost imagine that it had been wrenched and blasted into its present deformity by the lightning of heaven. A part of it has been latterly sawn away, and its warped trunk is rifted and disfigured. The stem of the adjoining tree to the right forks up boldly into three strong branches; one of them, however, is leafless. The next tree is of the same character, spreading on high a goodly canopy of smaller overhanging boughs. third tree from the deformed one, shoots up in four parts, and I love to trace it with an upturned eye to the point where The |