inequalities most apt to produce them. The bottom of the sea, like the surface of the earth, is overspread with mountains, intersected with inequalities. In all mountainous places currents will be violent; in all places where the bottom of the sea is level, they will be almost imperceptible.

Whirlpools appear to be no other than the eddies of the water formed by the action of two or more opposite currents. The Euripus, nigh the Grecian coast, and famous for the death of Aristotle, alternately absorbs and rejects the water seven times in twenty-four hours. The Charybdis, near the straits of Sicily, rejects and absorbs the water thrice in twenty-four hours; and the greatest known whirlpool in the world, that in the Norway sea, which is affirmed to be upwards of twenty leagues in circumference, is said to absorb, for six hours, whales, ships, and every thing that comes near it, and afterwards returns them in the same quantity of time as it drew them in.

But that which gives to the sea its unremitting and universal impulse, which suffers it not to rest for a single moment over all its wide extended bounds, but keeps it in perpetual agitation, and makes it, a it were, remain vigorous, and acquire health by exercise, from one extremity of the earth to the other, is that wonderful and truly surprising phenomenon of nature, the flux and reflux of the tides.

This wonderful phenomenon, so inconceivable to the ancients, is accounted for by the moderns, on the principle of gravitation, and has been demonstrated to be under the influence of the moon; but from

whatever secondary cause it may proceed, there can be no doubt as to the fact, that the waters of the sea ebb and flow alternately twice in the course of something less than twenty-five hours, with the greatest regularity. This is surprising indeed; but it is no less so, that they should adhere so invariably to the limits of their operation; that even when the waves lift up their heads in the most ungovernable fury, and toss about in their most frantic ravings, they still confine themselves to the space allotted for them by Providence, and pay the most implicit bmission to that unerring law which regulates their movements.

When the tide begins to flow, it signifies not that the proudest earthly potentate be in the way. Canute may erect his throne on the beach, and command the sea to approach no farther; but it will be only to proclaim his own impotence; for, regardless of the mandate, the waters will press on, and, if the monarch persists, will sweep him from the face of the earth. When the ebb has commenced, it is equally vain to think of retarding the reflux; the rolling surges must return to the bosom of the ocean, from whence they came.

The bed of the ocean, gradually deepening as it recedes from our shores, till it loses itself in the dark unfathomed caves of the deep, renders it not only more commodious for the purposes of navigation, and safe for the inhabitants who dwell on its borders, but it is of singular service in removing, to a distance from our shores, those numerous deposits of noxious matter which are daily poured into it,

while undergoing the process of purification amongst the sandy particles at the bottom. There the most offensive impurities having subsided into the mud, may be said to be buried in the depths of the sea; but not to remain, for even there a species of worms await their farther decomposition, and the last stage of corruption is made to assume a new form.

The saltness of the sea, besides the important part it bears in the renovating power of the watery element by its saline quality, is also of use in lending its aid to preserve that motion, the beneficial efficacy of which has just been demonstrated; for the saltness of the sea renders its waters less apt to freeze, and in those countries where, in the absence of heat, it is not so necessary otherwise, tends not a little to retard the progress of congelation. This serves only to render the water of the ocean heavier, and consequently of a proper consistency for supporting those numerous burdens which float on its surface.

Among the wonders of the great deep, we may justly reckon those awful phenomena, termed Water-spouts; yet these no doubt have their uses.They are of two kinds; one of which is no other than a thick compressed cloud, reduced to a small space by contrary winds, which, blowing at the same time from many corners, give it a cylindric form, and cause the water to fall by its own weight. The quantity of water is so great, and the fall so sudden and precipitate, that if, unfortunately, one of these spouts break on a vessel, it shatters it to pieces, and sinks it in an instant. It is asserted, and possibly

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with foundation, that these spouts may be broken and destroyed by the commotion which the firing of cannon excite in the air.

The other kind of water spout is called a typhon, and does not descend from the clouds, but rises up from the sea with great violence. "These Waterspouts," Thevenot observes, “are also very dangerous, for if they fall on a vessel they entangle in the sails so much that sometimes they raise it up, and afterwards let it fall with such violence as to sink it; or, at least, if they do not lift the vessel up, they tear all the sails, or let the water they contain fall on it, which often sinks it to the bottom." But, whatever mischief may be occasioned by Water-spouts, or however terrifying their appearance, we have abundant reason to believe, from their being the productions of so wise and good a God, that the partial evil they may at times occasion, is nothing in comparison with the good they promote. As the burning torrent, issuing from the top of Etna or Vesuvius, alarms the surrounding inhabitants, and sometimes carries irremediable devastation among their dwellings, yet is absolutely necessary to prevent greater evils, so the terrific Water spout may act as the most simple and efficacious medium of restoring that equilibrium among the elements, which, if longer prevented, might not only occasion convulsions sufficient to swallow up whole navies, but be attended with the most direful effects upon the dry land. But were it for no other purpose than to add to the grandeur of such a scene as is about to be described, and awa

ken feelings similar to those experienced by the author of the following sublime sketch, taken in the midst of the Atlantic ocean, these wonderful productions of the varying power of nature may be said not to have been created in vain.

"One evening," observes this writer, (“ it was a profound calm,) we were in the delicious seas which bathe the shores of Virginia; every sail was furled; I was engaged upon the deck, when I heard the bell that summoned the crew to prayers; I hastened to mingle my supplications with those of the companions of my voyage. The officers, with the passengers, were on the quarter; the chaplain, with a book in his hand, stood at a little distance before them; the seamen were scattered at random over the poop; we were all standing, our faces towards the prow of the ship, which was turned to the west. The globe of the sun, whose lustre even then our eyes could scarcely endure, ready to plunge beneath the waves, was discovered through the rigging in the midst of a boundless space. From the motion of the stern, it appeared as if the radiant orb every moment changed its horizon. A few clouds wandered confusedly in the east, where the moon was slowly rising; the rest of the sky was serene; and towards the north a Water spout, forming a glorious triangle with the luminaries of day and night, glistening with all the colours of the prism, rose out of the sea like a column of crystal, supporting the vaults of heaven.

"He who had not recognised in this spectacle the beauty of the Deity, had been greatly to be pitied.