TRANSACTIONS OF THE ALBANY INSTITUTE. TRANSACTIONS OF THE ALBANY INSTITUTE. VOL. ‘i JOEL MUNSELL, 58 STATE STREET. 1833-1852. OFFICERS OF THE ALBANY INSTITUTE, . FOR 1852. President. T. ROMEYN BECK. Treasurer, F. S. PEASE. First Department, WM. J. McALPINE, President; GEO. R. PERKINS, Cor. Sec.; W. W. CLARK, Rec, Sec.; GEO. H. COOK, Librarian. Second Department, S. VAN RENSSELAER, Pres’t; P. GANSEVOORT, Vice Pres.; JOEL MUNSELL, Cor.Sec.; | S.0. VANDERPOEL, Rec. Sec; C. H. ANTHONY, Treasurer. Curators. T. R. BECK, H.WENDELL, J. H. ARMSBY, FRED. TOWNSEND, A. H. BROWN. Third Department, J. V. L. PRUYN, President; R. H. PRUYN, Vice President; JOHN SESSIONS, Cor. Sec.; J. NEWLAND, Ree. Sec.; EDWARD W. FORD, Treasurer. CONTENTS. Art. I, Abstracts of Meteorological Observations made at the city of Albany, and calculations tending to establish its mean ee by T. ee Beck, NM. D., - - Art. II. Observations on the Solar Relipes of Thay 1832, and the Longitude of Albany, in a letter to Simeon De Witt, Ist Vice President, from enc Alexander, A. M. Corresponding Member, — - Art. III. Annual Address, delivered before the Insti- tute, April 3, 1833, by Amos Dean, A. M.,_— - - Art. IV. Description of a new Crustaceous Animal found on the Shores of the South Shetland Islands, with Remarks on their Natural History. By James Eights, Naturalist to the Exploring Expedition of 1830, and i tas Member of the pe In- stitute, - - Art. V. On the Functions of the Moon, deduced fice Observations made on the total Eclipse of the Sun, on the 16th day of June, 1806, rae Simeon De Witt, Ist Vice President, - Art. VI. Astronomical Observations made at Berlin, Worcester County, Md. (February, 1831), with some of their Results. By Stephen Alexander, A. M, Tutor in the eins of New Ans Hoenn ars Member, > Art. VII. Report of the Committee appointed to conti- nue the Meteorological Observations, on the 21st of June, September, December and March, - - - Page. 30 53 viii CONTENTS, ’ Page Art. VIII. Annual Address, delivered before the Insti- tute, April 19, 1836, by Daniel D. Barnard, LL. D., Art. IX. Report of the Committee appointed to con- tinue the Meteorological Observations, on the 21st of March, June, September and December, - A Art. X. Report of the Committee appointed to continue the Meteorological Observations, on the 21st of March, June, September and December, containing hourly observations of the Barometer, Thermometer, Winds, Weather, &c., made at different places on the 2ist and 22d of December, 1836—and meteorologi- cal tables from Illinois, Florida, New York City, Al- bany, Montreal, Snehenes L. C. and Amsterdam in Holland, ifs ts - Art. XI. Annual diddpesd} iAivede before the Insti- tute, April 27. 1837, Matthew or Webster, A a). = Fs - - - Art. XII. Meteorological Observations made on the days suggested by Sir John F. W. Herschel, - Art. XIII. An account of the burning of niet in 1690, drawn up from manuscript records. By George W. Carpenter. Read February 6, 1834, — - Art. XIV. Annual Address, delivered before the Alba- ny Institute, April 1838, by James Ferguson, Esq., Art. XV. Eulogium on the Life and Services of Si- meon De Witt, Surveyor General of the state of New York, Chancellor of the University, ( By T. ast meyn Beck, M. D. Delivered by appoin fore the Albany Institute, April 23, 1835, iy Art. XVI. Description of a New Animal cata to the Crustacea, discovered in the ‘Antarctic by the author, James Eights, (Genus Glyptonotus, Art, XVII. Observations on the Geological features of the Post Tertiary formation of the rll of pera and its vicinity. By James > 113 152 331 TRANSACTIONS OF THE ALBANY INSTITUTE. Art. 1. Abstracts of Meteorological Observations made at city of Albany, ne Pa iexlations ek to establish its win temperature, hy T. Romeyn Bec __ Read February 7, 1833. Several years have now elapsed since a regular series of meteor- ological observations was commenced in this place. ‘ I have sup- posed that it might be interesting to collect these, ascertain their | mean results, and notice also the variations in each year. The series is not, however, perfectly complete, being made at considerable intervals from each other. The earliest is the obser- vations recorded by our venerable first vice-president, Simeon De Witt, for the years 1795 and 1796. These are to be found in the Transactions of the Society for the promotion of Agriculture, the _ Arts, &c. vol. 1, p. 287. They were made, as I am informed by him, in Dock (now Dean,) street. Subsequent to this, tables were successively kept by the late Dr. Low and Dr. Eights. Those of the former are either unfor- tunately lost, or if preserved, are too imperfect to be available. promotion of Useful Arts. The Institute is also in possession, by donation from Dr. Eights, of the original MS. tables. I have carefully examined these, and the results have been accurately as- | certained for this communication. They were made three times a - day, viz at7 A. M.,3P. M. and 9 P. M The observations for 1813 were made, as I am informed by » Eights, at the north side of Steuben-street, near Middle- those for 1814 in North Pearl-street, in the house south of and ad- joining Judge Woodworth’s. From 1820 to 1832 inclusive, I have kept meteorological tables, ; at first, at the request of the corporation of the city, and latterly, — 2 under the direction of the Regents of the University. important. ja TABLE Foot for 1795 and 1796, by Simeon De Wrrv. 5 ” 1 Meteorological Observations “HOTJULIVA Aymuout 3sa}¥01z | BESS4S42RSR2 8 *93139p js9MO'T F) SSSSSERRE "9315 0p jsayory | SSBSRSSSRS °% oa “WuoUI yoee Jo aanjyesaduia} uvayy eeeeeesses ‘3 RAAESSRESS A 1796. “UOTeIIeA Apy3uour qSo}taIx) i eee we Se Pt ee ae Oe ge ge 8 ee Se oe eG | MF Oe ea HOE 9? 0 eee eet e te a Ne fe fee ee, te ee SS Re aie th ah, ew ee, ee See. ee le 6 ee 2 oO, a ee oe , December, ‘9a12ep 4saMory | “aaidep ysoysizy | SSSRZEESSKBS 29 JO Lenpehediods ueeyy | RSeRegegesge ee ee oe 1795. a). ee pa carl a es 64° * 9. eee ee . e 8 ete See ee a eee oO 9 ee ee me a gs ara ge ae anand wees es * , me Ss SESE os ShEses Sse SSn540028 | cl be lee Se] ite Having been noticed at the Academy, it of course will be observed that — the ground here is many feet higher, and is also more exposed to — the north and west winds than in either of the former localities.* With this preamble, I propose in the first place to give the ta- bular results of each of the above seventeen years, and then to pre- sent such comparative views of the whole number as may Bio” a Mr. De Witt states that the above results were deduced from the state of the en at its two extremes, within each paneer a= hoa: TABLE Il. Meteorological Observations for 1813, by Jonaruan Erents, M. D. = eZ “pura Surpreaarg | 4 2 ios ssa ssa gad BESEEssEsees os¢ _ IRAE RAZRRZARRGE . : ee 1H 389 AA “N mt 10900 FOODS 119 191925 Soe “WSOAL Me aaa ets mts ob es “sais a bicbhelbatt 5 é eo ae ee ee et ade POMS] D252 : < es : . 9) 3 1 To) “yyno: = - : * = fat Eas aN ale & a My; - % ~~ eas |= ethubicarae a . Be BIS BER Se E Late | cmt ft te at aie Ee ee oes eS AQ ho) api ~ BSC NT pt tet oN mil ‘. r besa OD OU ee ee OD OD m, . a “MoU or -_ : bw Swzurey) - : é ! . Aare tw Moug | 65° noo ed ” z wred ~ . ahs a : i SS a oe a “APRON | Socom ananSsanns i] SS eS 4 3 Ipgigs 34 ey IVI SNFHBDAT Sas E a ee oa ot -_‘osuex ea) Noaton Ajrep 4s9jvor5 |NANSRRASSAAaX sai Sl Fh & *oSuvd c. & | SSIRRSARBRSS _~o ay} [[e Jo uvapy ‘W ‘'d 6 ainyesoduia} uve pA Hoos oe, ee ee Oe ee Oe Wd ¢ 3 oinkjusddensy ueay ‘WV Lt ammjyesedura, Uva Bee Ra Sake Sse gate} Re hte oe yest Bae 4 Ca ee > ee ee Be ae peel are) = AP hg RF SY, O45. © Lee eee ee ee puataasg |e Ff ¢ ZRNHhABARRRARAZ =i m se 4 ap ae WWM 'N | SreHastSSHMAM es nee a aT ae : JOM | HOOMR REE sNO : = era z : a WO er gee: ; fa 6 6 7 ne GMOS | oraswnasns—sa é o 7 \ _ Se ae 7 = $ oe 4 4 4 4eae 3 . Be 8 WAS | wWSweson San a = | — a ine eet eh et £ = fee Pee ee pe oS E Shee eee : = Sey “N mT Zz : . — — 2. Eee ; ie GHON | amemate ool a. ; cial 5 ~~ i. we « we oe ead ‘Moug Wureg | M 2 t t iNe | (on, Et RSe Cece Sakis: Seldihes RI Moe ee $ gs Se | Gs, sey BEAN [ee | (Nm me: ¥. aT ae s “HHON | 0910 03 TH i Oo CI S - = aig BI EE © = ‘MoUg Wurey], 2. TT es 3 : “ia ar in upy | SRP SesaR o ee ¢ ‘moug | OW 52 ts ime =“ J atte ¥ a 8 ~ rar) 4 -£pno) <4 mam § 3 Pm | EO SeaeeSserse 8 0s Pf | eee fe: mi s3eseensiesns 8 = oe oO ; = _~— -asuer | “ i iol out rel S z 3 “aS | ~r 2 5 SSSSSssssesAase bY “t = : ; *yS9Mory 7 SLOTS Ip eo Mae Oe a : a : , 73 2 ee sous | REBRRZESSESES vite : sinyeiaduiaz ueayy a I Cf ee 6 eS, ee ee, ee | ‘WV Lie emyeradaie} weayAy S2esesSseSeR ie ee split bs 2 ogg ets jc8828) ett SSS qeasaeoza oe ~— Ss £ ¥: s ® . S = ( ie FY THERMOMETER. ees cs =e RerSs Conntd0 oS eS FM | Cansei HOres poor ea 55 Se: “PPM OS] sm ] 2088 lenge mr tes: — WS | rN PRODI Tw OD mt HAG AD 6 KS Sr 00 09 It 2. 2 = 389 MA | ODO His 00 08 HH 19 1919 ae eee en es pes ‘PIM 'S | eos tt OOOO < = “UNOS | as oi 05 05 iia wed ODI z a | ee SS ~ ‘BET S| ComNDSoNnrasonrs wo — —— e oe ee ss E so ee eee aoe Soe. = SN | SOOO Oe “GHON | og NOHO nod a eee SsenstatsS _ ages uIVy | ft IGRRZAARS 2: ‘Moug wUmYy, se PP mt "Wd 6 3 omnyerodura} uvazA ‘Wid ov ainyeroduia, way W VL amyerad ura} uve py ee he Se tee Sie oe TR Doe: Fs * oe ee © ON ee ee ae dee Presse December Novem TABLE IX. Meteorological Journal for the year 1825. WINDS, (NO OF DAYS.) 10 “PpUIA Sayreaorg 9M ON wan a Ee eevcaatl at Sem io: 1S BiBeacca cece "SOM ee 4 & 4m | 69 OD © XT OO UD HO 09 OD Ht 489M ‘S bar) A 1D kD ‘ aenetula: dieetareae “qynog eq 4s 2g5 SRHAO Or O19 H ro seq "s ort ee ae a OP | CO HT 1d 6 HHO TO i Si ft ome Pe OI OO HIM: rr) 19S 1d IWWOANHO isa alban BERT cae 2s Reeehasa setae ini ole ok, ee St ee ee 5 ~ nes a THERMOMETER. eS eS ee atk, vee ek a ee a: 6 ee gs ok et a a ee WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) Ce ee ae eae oe eles alee ee ee, eee “Apnoyy eae a 14.5) 16.5 ag ASR SAAS 7 ARSRASRARAR 41 :| ZRIQIRSSSSS - “Al-¥ 278 << GN GN GH A) Se Me Ne i! elt ae Ee ee PUR ee ee ee ee a ee abcde eel age eM ee ah He ee a RR ag Se la Hg as ew ee ee TABLE X. _ Meteorological Journal for the year 1826. WINDS, (NO. OF DAys.) 11 “pula, Sumreaorg “P89 M ON ES. — os Bes castle Ze iE pacha) BRM bn eS 89 ee 2 4 8 rhOUCr Wes 1nMr Coo — ~~ 489A “S abd ITS SN SOO LON “WyHOg = bs 5. | HDOoCrDommoera “PCH 'S | ‘Ba Se Br’ “yseqy Se NT “UHION, ‘Bed Ulery RABSRESR e 6. 9, CV Lene + oars oe es FROR “MOUS 2 Urey Saree ae: "a iT eT ae ee bes . 4.58 €. £9. «et + «44 | ¢ “pve 0 ete “ous -urey WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) “Apnoyp “realpD | ‘oSuer Ajrep ysa}earn) oft lESS25ReRRcR5 | RARSRRAARKSS TOs aN pigs THERMOMETER. ‘Wd aanyerodura} uve SERSSHENSKSR = oat ee et SOR ier See er ne WV 2 ON all TABLE XI. Meteorological Journal for the year 1827. WINDS, (NO. OF DAYS.) WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) 12 “pura Surprwsarg “9M ON - Zvindiviawuinazwde vi mee ne Sar oo Ea =. AMAANSNBACSS “F890 MA ceca > ead PINOHNOTOrNSS o 4 4a44 RaQ tee Neate mt to > °hO . a . , . . be < = | 69 6015 08 © 68 SO SS HN ee re s5aseneesees MON Ee DO te @ =) ad wid | Caandaiaencin I RARRRARARRSS | ESSSSARSRBSS canal CR OB AN On TON “S9ysiH | BESESSRSEESS THERMOMETER, “SUO]JEAIAS -q0 24} [[e Jo uvayAT Re het Ma, ja ei boca Sos SRSSSSRBSS5 SASS Fe SERSSERSERS seer eee Lg eae ‘3 ey 2. >< ag 3 aes 22224 SPS R21 26a8 § ES5 pee heReses 23.4 “wt Gee b ses hes sar oos 7S wt Fm Net TABLE XII. Meteorological Journal for the year 1828. WINDS, (NO. OF DAYS.) WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) 389,44 “N tag Sots Leochi ses oe br} 6A 0D By 0 1D ATOR OM ast i 5 | WO WD NI NID HS 5 ae 4m FAN PANN SHAN ey: eet J One oonone om ee nS any? Sa See = me cht eee CDOT re HCD Oe Oe “ase urey | & ik cal Wt Ss. cae ea arrange *Moug mo a8 fa oF ee ech Apnory | Po ei -oSuea Aprep 48938019 -gsuel Pie. =e wy ee + ee be. @ ¢2 6.0 Nath et Ore 6 oath) OR CE 8 ORES Se L, Ps BRARIISSS “JSOMO'TT | SRLBSSBSSRA° dz} ae Kanal Boho late W'V¥VLr hinisepdeesn aiuniie oe + be. | ee ey a> June , TABLE XIIl.. _ Meteorological Journal for the year 1829. 24 29004 44 | DGOMSANGHEtROSD ee 6 4 4 8 \SCVerDeceCen TOW ~ ~_ Pi i es pater rmCTea Te CRIGT “CIs ene 4 4 44 SreConrnNoanwran te ee ee oe oe | = mit meateocam : WINDS, (NO. OF DAYS.) 191098 2 NA SSR ~~ aq 5 | AOOPOIN A a re AYA SARESSASE SSS Erkan cky 6° 6 Se - « WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) -eSuel Ajrep ysayrarry -oSuer CGS CRE ELS eS. ee (Th gtk WO Sey tw cee at ee ee 0 te ee en Oe ee eS 8g A) "89MOr] CONN et —10) 58 47 45 46 50 EE 46 45 35 43 THERMOMETER. “SUOT}VAIOS -qo ay} [Te Jo weayy egnzerodur 019} Cheer ea Pa Deine “oath ow Waa pete Faker ‘Wd 678% a aecetuseccae 92 66S Oe ee we ere alps SS Ge ove OST Sed em Bog fees 4 eo: _2., 82-6 eee ee ee ee Dart iM RE athe. ik te Mite te oes cng “hd iy ary, Eee By ber, ber, November, x Janua’ eae eee ee ee 15 In 1825, the Regents of the University required meteorological observations to be made in each of the Academies under their care. These were directed to be taken between daylight and sunrise, as showing the lowest degree of temperature in the twenty-four hours ; between 2 and 4 P. M., or in other words, at 3 P. M., as the warmest point, and every evening an hour after sunset. The mean was to be ascertained by adding to the morning’s observa- tion twice the afternoon’s and evening’s and that of the next morn- ing. The sum of these four was to be divided by six, and the re- sult placed in the mean column. The mean of each half month and month was also to be calculated. I continued both these series of observations (at 7 A. M., 2 P. M. and 9 P. M., and according to the mode directed by the Re- gents,) for the years 1826, 1827, 1828 and 1829, in order to as- certain the discrepancies, if any, that might exist between them. After the last named year, finding both too laborious, I continued only that which was directed by the Regents. The following ta- bles show the results obtained. TABLE XIV. Meteorological Journal for 1830. 89M 'N 1216 _ Rae AKROSAACSOW _— —— ee eee 8 | WO De et OF OD et a “BSOAQ ty 2 ts r= POM S| mananacsa ian < ° . s444R 4 S & “WMS | aenantSSennscs i ~~ — — & aq 3 3 4 - ‘sty Ss OD OD HI IN OD OID é Big SSR ETI z oka a et e Shen ty ewe as f ee as Stes ha me ae WRN | eS ee ae eeg 4 4 4 “GMON | oo eee ee oe /RSRRSRERSSAZ aed 0 Bde or Pk tos. rae ag ane > ured epee PE Fo yen, nce,” Ree Gee ee : ‘moug| SMO D2 bbs ite } & “Urey NAD Sm OOAOS eo a “fk ane ae 7 : Omid | SaaS sdseaqan a men | one 88 = 1 | 4eSSangarsas _————— RENO ey acme Ne eno mB wrn are BS855R3R89S4382 ; ected 0 Ee pe fa 4 ‘soysry | SBR REREBSLSS 3 °o uve Apqyuopy | SPR SNH 16 DE re z AARSSSRSsay & sey pz ‘way | SBSRANZAGBZIWS RSUSSSESRSIS ‘Fey Isl “Uva ABRBRARSRAASS Sects rs tt st peiiiiiigigé ah: : ‘ a2eo Peai::igegea $ eo op as oes ESS ERS HR aESS eS €98 6295 RE TABLE XV. Meteorological Journal for the year 1881. . WINDS, (NO. OF DAYS.) WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) | | "389M 'N * 8 44 DQ OO E> Bw bs NS G3 08 “389 AA et ee eee SW MD AH ON HOD Tr an 69 OF _ = 389M °S wn + 1919 1p a ieaensi~ a Is “Tnog “se 'S seq “pe N “"qHON ee ei OTN ex aS ‘aseS urey “MOUG 2 urey “Moug “Urey “£pnoyg | “IVI THERMOMETER. ‘asuvs Apqyuoyy *389MO'T “qsaysryy | waded S93 bade 4 © ie Sw, eee ee, ee «=, ee es a oe | oe TABLE XVI. Meteorological Journal “for the year 1832, WINDS, (NO. OF DAYs.) WEATHER, (NO. OF DAYS.) Vinuaaccuces pn te ade be: IDIGM AAI 14 63 TO0 ae as i KN osto x $8 es re Oeste | MPDamooconnacnann = Loma - — ~ sisiisrsits moet nd | be 8) THERMOMETER. SSR8FSIE8 61 OSI SPAN N 7 : | SSSRBsasgeez =. Cc. ueoul ATq}uO, “HEY pg “weap Fey 4s “weap A SiLFSSSSEnss . . . . eel . eee . . . re Se ee ee eS ee > > r,. eee eee ewer tees J? ALY, . sere ceutney ary. Janu “ebru March, April, ... May, July. November. Decembe 19 In comparing the previous tables, it may be well to premise the remark, that this city is situated in north latitude 42°39 and west longitude 73°44. The following schedule (table XVII.) brings together the re- spective observations, so far as they can be compared with each other. As I have already explained the cause of the partial va- cancies in the years in 1830, 731 and 732, I may here state that ta- ble XVIII. exhibits the variations noticed in pursuing the double sets of observations made in 1826, ’27, °28 and ’29. It will be seen that on the annual mean they hardly differ half a degree. In- deed during three of the years the difference is less. * It will be well again to mention at 3 P. M. and mine at 2 P. M. TABLE XVIL. 20 pura Surprea | E . 2d, Fr i - “| iat inedde dei zad BS “9M ON Bs redgezceasarsa : ' 19 2 38 ae ~~ "OM * on one 2 eeeeea : ee 4 BIAS MON SAH RSSASRRASS A i Mes a) ee LS om @ @ Oe yas te WAS; KgegsgSessRneaas yA a ae es . <1 “pseq] 4 we Oe et - ¥ é 9 : S Sd “Nf SP Sen ecans -ahee iS 5 sae 8 S WON| SRIBRSRSSTRAZAS eS rion S o “oSeS ureg {2.505 5S oes =aSeees & ~ cei BSR SBS a 3 - MOUS ay avy |. aor SRS aSoontea = . | ae ee eaasbeaen: 2aRRA Se ws wey |: EXBRSTESRRERSSS Pe cae 2 “§ 4S 84 45 equ = a me | (EREZESE SBS eSER8 ‘ e = 321915 9G 1015 1918 ~ F a a ed Bl Rk 8 5 te ‘SRSEFZHSILNSRSS . e or a = = DHoawA 5 saeaies srintsing EE SSSESESSSSRESES o z 23 - 8 Aqqvaoar ys9i0a75 | ee: dk “@sURI > 3 Ajrep ysayea1r : URSRRRRRBRSS : 2 s . ; SENeuyyedenE ewes 8 A ianné SAE M ES Sc mes Soy 8 wousiy | SSbeSSESBSSS ORAS 5 | oo tears | SSRERS ROS GASNSsS | en | geesegserssiaissg 7a oak : RESSSSSSSRAS : : pe ht SSS EUR ESOS : orm . BRRSSSRSSRER : : eM | : ISSSeeeesess :: Edney | | BaReBSRRASRS - : | 2 eeesedsgedsa *: a SSO SANGHA Snasen 3 RERESU Sa eaesAaeRe that Dr. Eights’ mid-day observations were aS peg gh Sinlag zatineg pata ad i ect Seana Coane a a el aoe leh oy aa Rg gp aaah hte gi eee Cae Serna Se i | 3 : } aN ia ll ee, ll Ce aches AT He eae Ba eaeS SONS Fy oes ; etary [ 96°I9 ; 90'IS | corer 1 Sr'sr | ZO°IS , To'0g |'** ‘duno vou funnuy grog | se'os | sors | zo'te | co'OB | dees | 406% | SESE | ‘s9quiaoag 61°68 Zo 68 LL’ 68 FE OF 6I' te 18°88 88.68 tL’ 68 ) RS 10queAoNn wis | sc'lg | og sr | tosh | LL°19 | Srilg | Gres | cele : oe ¥0' Lg on Lg LV 29 61°29 C829 Z9'19 $6°F9 00'°F9 nd Oa saquiaydag 26°99 | W269 | Goch | Stree | G0-0L | Tera | BEL | GL | crits rts Gam Lo’s9 | sc'29 | INIA | S8°IL | 6e'Gh | Pech | 9O'SL | II'Ss * ‘ = = : z 3 Se | ge . & 2 me hg bs "6281 "S281 “LES ‘9281 “suoypa.tosqo fo sjas apqnop fo szjnsas ay2 fo uosrundwoy THAX WTAVL \ 22 Humboldt, in his interesting and most valuable memoir on ** Isothermal Lines* and the Distribution of Heat over the Globe,” when remarking on the number of daily observations best calculated to ascertain the mean temperature, says, ‘‘ Experience proves that the mean temperatures of the year, obtained by two or three obser-. vations, do not differ sensibly, if the intermediate observation is suf- ficiently distant (four or five hours) from the observation of maxi- mum and minimum.’’ I was desirous of verifying the correctness of this remark by the preceding table, and have been gratified with the result, which is as follows. ws TABLE XIX. Mean temperature, deduced from Mean temperature, deduced from ob- . Observations at 7 and 2, or7 and 3. servations at 7, 2 aad 9, or 7, 3 and 9. 1813 48-34 oo ceccescces 1824 48-48 ot VENS Sve e ee 47-88 1825 50-88 TCC a 0 o0 6S We 50-46 1826 50-92 tie Rees 50-51 1827 48.76 ere essen tenes 48.13 1828 51-97 ee eae owees 51-06 Total,--+++.- 545-19 eeee sees sees 539-79 Annual average, + 45-43 ce v0 ie REO REE | The results deduceable from table XVII. may here be given. Mean TEMPERATURE OF ALBANY, 49°04. fro: observations of 17 years, Highest point of the thermometer, do. 100° (in 1820.) Lowest do do do —20° (in 1796.) Greatest range, 120° * Isothermal. Lines of equal heat i i ts of the globe 18) hat in tk Philosophical Journal, vols. 3 ‘at 4. He recommends (vol. 3, Pp day an the night, we must couple the mazi imum of one da e minimum of the oe following. The dire — ave the Regents to be in comformity to this advi “ vpres “Gaiverity weet oe 23 WEATHER, as observed for 15 years, Fair days, 2997 3. Cloudy days, 24814; being an annual average of nearly 200 air : Rain. No. of days on which it fell, 1194. Annual ay. 79 days. do do do 22 do now. Rain & Snow. do do 63. do 4 do Rarn Gace for seven years, 284-47 inches. Annual average, 40-64 inches. Winps, we 15 years. Total Annual average- aoe Wee 560 eeeet asses eerteses e@eeneee . 37h No , ene 187 eee et eeeer ert eres ears sees 12. ey be oGetieed Hage es 50 CES OO Oe S26 S O18 OT 2 ee 3. Sout e@eee 742 ee ee re ri 494 South,-+++++++- 1509 oor e eee eee ee ee ee eee aene 1003 Southwest, --- 340 ee ee ewe eer en ee eee ese ee 24 est, DUM os o4 oeeon eee RNs ies eae 69} Northwest,-+--- 1050 se wth vee ae 5479 365 The following may be added as illustrative of the variety of the seasons. TABLE XX. Years. | First Thunder Storm. | First fall of Snow. 1813 | March 18 ictober 19 1814 | April 30 | November 3 1820 | April 11 ctober 25 1821 | May November 19 1822* | May 1, withhail. |; November 1 1823} coe errr cccoes November 18 1824 Sees eeeeenee cs October — 2 31 1825 arch 17 | November 20 1826 March 20 | November 22 1827 eeeecceseeress | November 7 1828 March 24 | November 12 1829 | April 19 | November 11 1830 | May 1 | November 29 1831 March 31 | November 22 1832 | March 12 vem 13 sO. +h 1s Rah 'y 1822, +h 41. 7 2 ai. . ening , rain commenced the morning, which at 1 ae aes at bers nats Sees nie = econ val flashes of lightning, with seyere 24 TABLE XXIL. Degree. | Warmest day. Degree. —10 |July 12 96 —20 |August 28| 94 — 2 |September 13 87 — 6 |August 86 — lyt 100 —14 jJuly 31 & Aug.15 93 —! 1 90 ae ly 10} 94 — 3 |June 29; 89 — 6 |June 12} 98 ; —12 |May 15! 92 —18 | August 6 90 0 |August 31 98 ; y —10 |May 28] 90 1830 | February 6| —12 aly “| 97 1831 |January 21; —10 |June 1}. 04 1832 |February 2 —I1 June 15& July 7! 91 Tadd to these, as an important and necessary supplement, the periods of the opening and closing of the river in each year, so far at least as I have been enabled to obtain them. I copy them prin- cipally from an article which appeared some time since in the “New-York Daily Advertiser.” Those marked * are derived from authentic records, or my own observations ; (some of the Ms? SE by extracts fom the diary of send, as. Stevenson, Pet) All these euic HRRIAS wiaieed at the nS oi — while those of the heat at the eid mid-day one. ion A shower fullowed a short time after 2, a at 80°, witha west bes ig "The 22d Ay pry 54 this year (1820) a eh been nerally warm. It was 94° at Albany; a’ at Hartford ( 5 at Poetiond 06° 5.04 at Newburyport Nien ies: z aa wee «es oe peabeey is ey . é 25 TABLE XXIL sg tank _— or ob- | River open or free of ted by ice. ice. |No. days closed 3 Winters. 1785—86 *March 23, 1786 _1789—90) February 3, ayo December 8, 1 A ly {91—92| December 8, € my Decem: 12, NE 26, 95 Janney 12, »—96 | January 23, 96—97| Novem. 28, 1796 797—98 ¢ 03 OA January 13 . 04 05|Decem. 13, 9, ar . 11, 4, 45 days. — 83 days. 26 It is interesting to inquire how far the results thus obtained ac- cord with previous general views on the subject. These, as have already intimated, are no where more fully or satisfactorily elucidated, than in the memoir of Humboldt. I propose, in the conclusion of this paper, to test some of his positions by the pre- sent observations. If they do not agree with his deductions, there is doubtless inaccuracy in some one or other respects, while if they on the whole correspond, a useful addition will be made to the mass of facts in this yet imperfect science. He remarks that the Isothermal line of 50° in N. America passes near Boston, and founds this apparently in part, on observations made at Ipswich and Cambridge, (Mass.) He also illustrates his position, that there is a greater variety between the seasons in the — new than in the old world, by references to the latter place ; and again, he states the mean temperature of America, east of the Al- ae at various degrees of latitude, either by deductions from ** direct observations, or by interpolations between a great num- ber of observations made in neighboring places and situated under the same meridian.”* Let us group these together and then com- pare them with the present tables. EON TE Places. N: Lat. |W. Longd Mena temt elater | suauber ton, . . . . | 4230 | 70.59 | 50,00 pe . . | 4238|.... | 50.00 ambridge, . .! 42.25 | 71.03 America, east of the So Alleganies, . . | 42.30| 71.10 |.... | 30.02 | 73.40 See ee cde eee ERE * Edinburgh Philosophi. — teat vol. 3, 2. 257, 258, 265. t in another part of his memoir (vol. 5, p. 33,) he gives the ee temperature of e, from two years’ ’ chaeivatinag at Bost oe aet oston, as 50.36 ; winter 33.98 ; sum- Vara ntact com ‘ r was long and intense d. On the moved in a body downwards for some cae indies and 3d of D of March, re ee The river was not clear _ March 25 Lise econ sores om _ — closed on the 13th, opened on the 20th, and l finally ¢ lowed Decembe 1 s one of the four winters during a centu uy in which the Hudson be tween tee -Hook and New-Yor as crossed on the ice. The other being 1740-41, 1764-65 and 1779-30. q Jan. 1824, The river was clear of ice and remained for — Sor hes ** apie ang nd closed vapesiadiy Cetin ~ ‘eines closed a ae time 1828, Feb. 9. Wild d ie : = Segre oven vges ucks and p s flew napa city-— ott Opened 1 in Consequence of heavy rains, and closed — on the 10th January, ey Opened again January 3 ; closed again January i. : SN sup ial ed eras x = 27 ALBAN Y.—TABLE XXIII. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Years, Mean temp. | Mean temp. | Mean temp. | Mean temp. 1795 49.50 71.00 50.66 28.16- == 1796 69.83 1813 45.70 70.61 51.70 24.90 1814 48.59 70.71 52.83 1820 47,74 73.58 49.56 23.70 1821 45.23 71.67 50.94 48.62 71.24 53.03 23.82 1823 46.33 71.56 46.98 28.04 88 67.87 49.87 28.69 1825 49,94 3.92 50.11 29.18 1826 49,54 71.80 51.88 24.39 48.84 70.02 48.99 31.50 1828 48.13 72.63 39 25.84 1829 26 68.34 9.26 23.77 1830 51.11 70.12 53.62 25.88 1831 51.78 72.59 51.91 21.54 1832 45.62 69.65 51.31 Annual ave,! 47.93 71.00 50.81 26.24 Other observations made by our author need but a glance at the tables for their verification. Among these I may specify the fol- lowing : ‘¢ The increase of vernal temperature is great (from 1494 or 16°2 in the space of a month,) and equally prolonged, wher- ever the division of the annual heat between the seasons is very unequal, as in the north of Europe and in the temperature of the United States.” And again, ‘‘ In all places, whose mean temper- ature is below 62°, the revival of nature takes place in spring in that month whose mean temperature reaches : or 46°4,. When a month rises to 4199 the peach flowers, ay 46 8 the plum flowers. 51 8 the birch tree (Betula wing pushes out its leaves,* On one point I have found a difference. Baron Humboldt, in opposition to Kirwan, and from observations deduced from numer- ous European tables, asserts that the mean temperature of Octo- ber approaches nearer to that of the whole year than the tempera- * Edinburgh Phil. Journal, vol. 4, p. 30, 32. 28 ture of April, as was asserted by Kirwan. The following result has been here obtained. TABLE XXIV. \ Mean temp. of | Mean temp. of | Mean temp. of the year. October. | April. 1795 | 50.00 | 51.50 49.50 1796 48.00 48.00 47.50 1813 35 49.55 49.16 1814 49.84 53.11 48.87 8 48.42 1821 09 49,55 43.43 49.18 51.49 46.51 1823 47.31 4715 49.11 1824 7.88 50.26 46.76 : 1825 50.46 52.79 63 1826 50.51 51.92 44,40 1827 48.13 51.48 50.74 1828 51.06 48. 1829 48.12. 51.28 48.05 1830 50.65 52.39 56.02 1831 49.15 52.61 52.08 _1832 | 48:10 50.71 44.93 Average,.....| 49.04 50.63 48,38 I have naturally been anxious to ascertain how far the result of — these observations corresponds with the formula of Dr, Brewster, and on this point have been favored with the following observations :. by my colleague, Professor Ten Eyck. ‘“‘ Dr, Brewster’s formula for finding the mean temperature of @ place is (mean temp. —86,3° Sin D—33°,) or 86.3° multiplied by the sine of the distance of the place from the nearest isothermal — pole,* and 34° subtracted from the product. The result is the mean temperature. ‘The mean temperature at the equator in the — warmest meridian is 82.8°, and at the pole—34°, The distance of Albany, Latitude 42° 39 39” Longitude 73 44 49, — from the isothermal pole calculated by Dr. Brewster’s formula is 38° 34? 51”, and by calculation the mean temperature will be 50.31919°, * The nearest isothermal pole is situated in lat. 80, N. and 100 west longitude. 29 By the preceding observations it is 49.04 ; but it must be recol- lected that the results of several very intense winters enter into the elements from which it is deduced. The temperature of wells, as observed in August and Septem- ber, 1829, was 51°. As it may be interesting, I add the results obtained in places of nearly the same latitude with Albany. The late Dr. Holyoke, of Salem, made observations in that town during a period of 33 years, (from 1786 to 1818 inclusive.) * Latitude of Salem, 42.31 N. Longitude of do 76,53. : Mean temperature deduced as above, 48°68. Greatest range, 112. Hottest, 101 Coidest, —11. Mean of winter, 27.502. do spring, 46.05. do summer, 69.84, do autumn, 51.308. These observations were made four times a day, at 8 A. M., at noon, at sunset, and at 10 P. |e 2 Professor Dewey at Williams- town, (Mass.) for four years, 1816 | to 1819 inclusive. Latitude, a 73.00. Mean temperature for four years, 44°73. Height of Williamstown above the tide waters of the Hudson at Troy, 1000 feet.? Height of Albany only 130 feet. * American Almanac for 1833. + Memoirs of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, vol. 1, pages 382, 387. 30 Art. II. Observations on the Solar Eclipse of July, 1832, and the Longitude of Albany, in a Letter to Simson De Wirt, 1st Vice President, from Sreruen ALExanper, A. M. Cor- 2 responding Member. Read March 7, 1833, Princeton, (New-Jersey,) Feb. 6, 1833. Esteemed and respected Sir, Presuming that they will not prove uninteresting to you, I send my observations on the Eclipse of July last, as also the Longitude of the Albany Academy as deduced from it and several previous occultations of the fixed stars. SOLAR ECLIPSE OF JULY QMth, 1832. Beginning, at 7h, Ym. 28.5 A. M: (Mean Time.) End, at Sh. 45m. 45s.5 Duration, lh. 38m. 43s. Although no very sensible effect upon the temperature could be expected, two thermometers were exposed to the sun’s direct rays and two placed in the shade. The bulb of one of each pair was coated with a black pigment. The results were as follows : TIME OF OBSERVATION. |No.1.|No.2.1No.3.)]No.4.INo.1.INo 0.3.|No.4. jabout/about/about! Soon after the beginning,| 72} 92] 634 ae = ioe aa At 7h..4%m. ... . «| 74] 92; 66 ' 1-15} 3-15} 1-1 Soon after the eet: | 951 ey 5} 60 on wien 1-24) 1-121 1-48] 1-48 Ath. 2ifm.. . . ,| 761 971 e73l G73 3-13) 5-13) Soon after theend, . .| 82/107] 71| 71 7-52} 2-13 ; 1-12) 1-12) 1- 4 Ath. lim... . .} 84] 109] 723] vey 12) 1-16] 1-24 The last four columns contain the increment of temperature per minute, between each observation and the next succeeding, as in- dicated by each thermometer. The figures denote fractions of a degree. 7 31 Nos. 1 and 2 were exposed to the sun, the bulb of No. 2 be- ing coated in the manner before stated. Nos. 3 and 4 were plac- ed in the shade—No. 4 having its bulb coated. The sky was cloudless. The indentation produced by the moon appeared perfectly free from prominences of any kind, although their occurrence in the case of a solar eclipse is by no means un- common. In computing the longitude three seconds were subtracted from the observed time of the beginning, the sum of the sun and moon’s semi-diameters was diminished 5” for irradiation and inflection, and the error of the lunar tables, in latitude, deduced and applied. The following were the results : : Longitude W. of Greenwich in Time. From the beginning, 4h. 45m. 288.587 From the end, 4h. 54m. 363.525 Correction of oe moon’s latitude (the solar tables being sup- posed correct) +2’ The individual results of the occultation, before referred to, were as follows: Longitude in Time. Immersion of 1 y my 1831, June 17th, 4h. 54m. 46s. Immersion of y % “Aug. 29th, 4h. 55m. 7s. Emersion of ditto, ‘Aug. 30th, 4h. 55m, 8s. Immersion of 1 uw Ceti, “ ~Oct. 2lst, 4h. 54m. 50s. Immersion of Aldebaran, ‘6 ~=6Dec. 17th, 4h. 54m. 35s. Emersion of — do. “ do. 4h. 54m, 12s, The moon’s semi-diameter was in each case diminished 2” for inflection, and in computing the results of the eclipse, as well as those of the occultations, the ellipticity of the earth was assumed to be 1-309. The mean of all the observations places the Academy in longi- tude 4h. 54m. 438.03 W.of Greenwich, The observation of the emersion of Aldebaran was, however, considered at the time to be of somewhat doubtful accuracy. Its result, it will be observ- 32 ed, differs 23 seconds from that of the immersion ; if this obser- vation be, consequently, rejected, the mean result of those re- maining will be 4h. 54m. 47s.65, placing the Academy 73° 41’ 54a" W. of Greenwich. | Should you, Sir, judge the above results to be of sufficient im- portance, you will please communicate them to the Albany Insti- tute. I remain, Sir, with great gaan q Most truly yours, STEPHEN ALEXANDER. _ Gen, Simeon De Wirt. : oR EME LE OT a OR eee we eee etary Men eT ORES NS aah ee tere She pda open Re, a 33 Arr. II. Annvat Appress, delivered before the Insti- tute, April 3, 1833, by AMos Dean, A.M. GENTLEMEN OF THE INSTITUTE, In attempting to perform the duty devolving upon me on this occasion, may I hope to experience from you a degree of indulgence in its discharge, equal with that of the kindness which I have already received in its imposition. ‘The guar- antee of that would be, to me, an ample indemnity for disap- pointed hope, or realised fear, for baffled expectation, or un- successful effort. The history of our race has been hitherto read and regard- ed too much as a mere mass of particulars. The events it details have been considered more with reference to them- selves merely, than, as presenting the successive undivided links of one continuous chain. It is time we should profit from the lessons of the past. An experience of almost six thousand years should be able to present us with, at least, the rudiments of a system. It is time we undertook to compre- hend the great volume of our history as a whole ; to observe the agency of each event in the formation of that whole ; and, in this manner, to seek for the elements of order amid the ap- parent evidences of confusion. In the constitution of the material universe we have not failed to discover proofs of the most perfect order. From the beauties of proportion, and the harmonies of arrangement, and the mutual adaptations existing between its diversified parts, and between each part and the whole, arises the infer- ence, that to warrant the introduction of a new principle into its.operations would require a new modeling of the entire whole. In the Toa of intellect are exhibited evidences of the same order. The complicated machinery of mind; the nice adjustment of its faculties ; the accurate balancing of its powers ; the modifying influence of each upon all, and of all upon each, indicate with a clearness, setting all doubt at defi- ance, that the Master-mover has there left his impress. E 34 Nor there only. In the adaptation of the material universe to the human mind; in the felicitous agency of the one in calling forth the dormant faculties of the other ; in the higher harmonies of man with his material domicil; we recognize, if possible, still more distinctly, the agency of Him, who is alike traceable in the order of the material universe, and in the happy arrangement of the human mind. But do all evidences of the existence of order rest here ? It would be indeed extraordinary, if in this vast material theatre so orderly arranged ; if with these actors so systemat- ically constituted ; if with these adaptations and harmonies existing between the actor and his theatre of action ; the per- — formance itself should display nor order, nor arrangement, nor plan, nor system. It cannot be so. In the great volume of human actions the Creator has also left a record of himself. In proof of this assertion let us boldly interrogate history. - Let us ask it to furnish evidences of the same profound or- der ; of the same regular arrangement; of the same mighty plan ; of the same comprehensive system ; leading us irresist- ably to the conclusion, that the material world, that the hu- man mind, and that human acts, all originate from the same source, because they all exist subject to the same law, the law of order. ae This is the task I assume on this oceasion. © Its magnitude is sufficiently apparent. Let it serve then as an apology for the brevity that I shall be compelled to resort to. —_- I can hold in little estimation the intellect that is content to stop at the mere event, or that seeks no higher warrant for its occurrence than thé immediate motive actuating its origi- nator. Acts and events are of little consequence in them- selves considered. It is only as the evidences of things not seen that they become important. They result necessarily — from the spirit of the era in which they occur, : a -and indicate its true direction. From the characteristics of its events must the predominating spirit of an era be collected. They are the true form under which its peculiarities are deyelop- 35 The history of humanity is divisible into as many distinet eras, as there have been different spirits, successively exercis- ing a controling influence in human affairs. By the term spirit, 1 mean the prevailing principle discernible in the whole course of the events of any given period, and to which, as an efficient cause, those events are referable. Each era has not only had its own spirit, but also its own distinct thea- tre, or portion of this world’s surface to which its operations have been chiefly confined. The great drama of history opens in Asia. There we see exhibited the infancy of man, and there that infancy still con- tinues. All the elements that constitute human nature are there enveloped in each other, or so intimately blended to- gether as to preclude the action of-each without rendering necessary that of all. By the term elements, I here mean those primary principles of our nature that severally manifest themselves in industry, in government, in arts, in religion, and in philosophy. Of these elements, that of industry is founded on the idea of the useful, government on that of the _ just, the arts on that of the beautiful, religion on that of the holy or divine, and philosophy on that of the true in itself. It is only in the separate, distinct, and uncombined action of each element, that we can expect to witness the gradual de- velopement of its intrinsic perfection. ‘To accomplish this separation and developement of human elements requires the exercise of every active principle of our nature. The envelopement, or intimate blending of these elements, is attested by all the important phenomena that have been observed in Asia. In speaking of Asia generally, I must be understood as not intending to include those regions immedi- ately bordering upon the Caspian, Black, and Mediterranean seas, which in their physical character are more strictly Eu- ropean than Asiatic. The specimens of the arts exhibited in _ Asia are so indefinite in outline, so general in character, so deficient in just proportion, as to indicate a still indissoluble union between the arts and their associate elements. The dictates of the religion, the precepts of the morality, the de- 36 ductions of the philosophy of the east, are all in strict unison with each other, and exclude the idea that there is between them any line of separation. This state of envelopement, or intimate union, seems, therefore, to be the condition under which. the existence of man is given in Asia. This condition has stamped one pe- culiar feature upon this primitive era in our history—and that is mental inaction, profound repose, a destitution of well directed physical effort. To these the local peculiarities of Asia strongly conduce. Its centre is one immense continu- ous plateau of elevated land. The intense heat at the south divests the human frame of its energy, and the mental and moral fabric, of its power. The events brought down to us by history have mostly transpired within the temperate zones. In Asia there is, strictly speaking, no actual temperate zone. The regions of fire and frost there border upon each other. . At the foot of the Himaleh you are scorched by a torrid sun. _ Ascend their steep acclivities, and you stand on the immense plateau of central Asia, directly within the sphere and in- fluence of the northern “ polar sanctuaries.” Many of the institutions of Asia, particularly of the south- ern part, come in aid of those local peculiarities. ~The insti- tution of the castes of India effectually destroys all motive for exertion. : The religion and morality of India both lead to the same general inaction. Here, as elsewhere, in these departments as in every other, we find every thing harmonizing with every thing. The same spirit pervading every institution, and breathing its influences, for good or ill, into every de- partment. What is its religion? A deformed theology, absorbing every thing into itself ; allowing man no part to perform but that of a mere machine, and leaving it m- different, in the great system of things, whether even that part be or be not performed by him. Religion is the pre- dominating element of the east. What is its morality ? That also inspires repose. It teaches man if action be necessary, to act as though he acted not ; to act with a profound indiffer- 37 ~ ence to all its results. That whether he acted or not, the eternal principle that creates, and modifies, and renews, and sustains all-things, would be still the same. Under these combined influences man in Asia, has ever re- mained the same. We have seen him exhibiting no striking evidences of mental or moral advancement, bequeathing us no important discoveries in art or science ; handing down to us no trophies of his victories over the elements of nature. Exclusive of what foreign agency has effected, when have we ever wit- nessed an alteration in the manners, customs, laws, or insti- tutions of India, China, or central Asia? The sun that glad- dens this day has risen upon the same, with few or no modi- fications, that were dawned upon by the sun of Zoroaster. Centuries have there come and gone, and left no impress. Let foreign influence cease to operate, and they never will leave any. As soon may we expect to see the Egyptian mummy bursting the cearments of its sepulchre, and display- ing anew the energies of a life long lost, as to see the Asiat- ic competing with the European and American in the actings and doings of this world. Industry, government, the arts, religion, philosophy, there form one mingled mass.. No attempt at separation. No ef- _ fort at developement. We see every where exhibited the same dull, dead uniformity ; the same Sahara of the mental and moral world. It is true, we have witnessed physical movements of man in Asia. On that wide waste of desolation, the central pla- teau, have roamed the Scythian of the ancient; and the Tar- tar of the modern world. We have also seen pave, he there move in masses. Individuals, or tribes, accidentally collected together, or united through the influence of some command- — ing genius, that has casually appeared among them, have, at different times, descended from that elevation, and invaded the domains of civilization. The immense bodies of men that, in the fourth and fifth centuries, moved from that nur- sery of nations, that birth place of European ancestry, found nothing sufficient to stop their onward progress until they’ reached the Atlantic ocean on the shores of Portugal. 38 We have now contemplated one great exhibition of human nature. We have seen it present one strong peculiar char- acteristic, that of inaction, arising from the envelopement, or intimate commingling of all its elements. Were. those ele- ments always to remain enveloped? Was that nature ever to remain inactive? -All existence is granted subject to one con- dition, to the operation of one uniform law, the law of pro- gression. The man must walk forth from the boy, the civil- — ized from the savage. Happily our race can claim no ex- emption from this condition, or from the operation of this law. To perform it, therefore, it was nécessary that a movement should be made, that a new era should open, a new spirit predominate. It is here proper to advert to the manner and — direction in which that progression is accomplished. The man advances by a successive separation and developement — _ of his powers, humanity by a successive separation and de- — velopement of her elements. We have seen in Asia all these — elements, industry, government, the arts, religion and philos- — ophy enveloped within each other, or intimately mingled to- — gether. It is the successive separation of each element from — all the others, and the full systematic developement of each, or its utmost possible extension into all its particular and general applications, that constitutes the progressive princi- — ple of our race. This principle has ever been manifested in one direction only. It is a fact rather curious, that one great movement — of the atmosphere, that all sustaining principle of life, has ever been from east to west. In the same direction are the mighty movements of that majestic ocean, ‘that has once — been the cradle of our globe, and may yet be its grave.” — The mental and moral movements of man, the progressive’ principle of humanity, have been in the same direction. In the opening of a new era, to be influenced by a new 4 spirit, we are to view man under a different aspect. We are to proceed from inertia to action ; from where man was noth- . EAE PER er Gate eee ge ee te eee ae a Coe ee nee eT RRS ye ee ee, ee me teen ee eee Ty eee eee Payee tee ing to where he is every thing; from despotism to democra- _ cy; from union to separation; from envelopement to devel- opement ; from Asia to Greece. This new era required <: Ee ee ae i 39° new theatre of action. It found one in the mildness of a Grecian sky; in the balm of a Grecian atmosphere ; in the variegated beauties of a Grecian landscape ; in the diversi- fied qualities of a Grecian soil. The mountain, the stream, the bay, the harbour, unproductive Attica, and fruitful Mes- senia, all furnished motives for action. Man did act, and thus became acquainted with his own powers, and the extra- ordinary qualities with which his God had endowed him. Here, for the first time, the important secret was discovered, that in the inventory of the universe, man forms an item of value. The high estimation in which he here held himself is inferable from the fact, that he has invested his very gods with human attributes. He has transferred his own nature to his own heavens, and admired, and loved, and feared its display in the wisdom of his Pallas, in the loves of his Venus, in the valor of his Mars, in the thunders of his Jupiter. From the volitions, powers, and energies, he discovered in himself, he inferred that he was something more than a mere machine in the operations he effected. In the relations existing be- tween him and external nature, he discovered a mutuality ; that he was as essential to the world as the world was to him. The conviction of his free agency resulted from his feelings and his reasoning. But if free to act or forbear, he must be accountable for his choice, otherwise there could be no moral right or wrong. This principle of accountability, resulting from the conviction of his free agency, is distinctly traceable in all the great outlines of Grecian polity. When an important principle is first discovered, it is not surprising that its practical operation should be tested by a great variety of applications. We accordingly recognize this as the fun- damental principle, entering essentially into the very being of those little democracies. It was the key-stone of their governmental arch. Without it, the entire fabric was a ruin. With it, an exhibition of order, beauty, and harmony. Ac- countability direct, immediate, and unconditional, was the tenure by which every office was held, the condition attached to every official act. "Through the medium of the ostracism, even exalted worth itself was compelled to aecount for its ¢ 40, very worthiness. It was through the instrumentality of this all-important principle that man here sought the high attain- ment of self-government. The adoption of this kind of gov- ernment led to important results in a national point of view ‘Jt clothed the state with new powers, invested it with new attributes, threw over it the moral qualities of a person, and thus rendered it a fit subject of the law of nations. Its will re ee was the blended wills of all its members; its acts, their acts, modified by each other. It bore nearly the same kind of re- lation to its members, that life does to the organs through which it operates, or that the entire mind does to the facul- ties that compose it. The spirit actuating the movements of the Greek and Ro- man era was the same. In the government of Rome we rec- ' ognize indeed a new peculiarity, the aristocracy. To that, perhaps, is owing the greater permanence of its institutions. One strong feature in the Greek and Roman character was an unconquerable attachment to country. It was the source of pleasure, the centre of sympathy. Hence resulted what may be deemed the true spirit of the Greek and Roman era, national enterprise and national glory. In Greece and Rome human elements strongly tended to separation and develope- _ Industry, government, arts, religion, and philosophy ment. no longer exist, as they did in Asia, one commingled mass. The arts and philosophy here achieve their enfranchisement. - The productions of the former exhibit definiteness, and pre- cision, and beauty of proportion. The Grecian model was worthy of the Grecian master. The trophies of the Grecian arts have descended to us in the glowing canvass of her Apel- lés, in the all but breathing marble of her Phidias. The enfranchisement of philosophy was still more impor- tant. The very point of separation is the centre of a deep feeling, of an intense interest. with the blood of a Socrates. wards investigated earth and its productions in the of her Aristotle. She ascended to the source of things the — idealism of her Plato. co Why? That point was sealed _ In him philosophy first awoke — to a knowledge and comprehension of herself. She afters : == The remaining elements, industry, government, and re- ligion, were still intimately blended together. A successive separation was necessary for the purpose of allowing each an opportunity of being developed, or carried out into all its pos sible applications. Of these yet enveloped elements, that of government, or the state, was predominant. As. religion was the central element of the east, so was government that of-the Greek and Roman movement. Around this, as a nu- cleus, gathered all the others. Tostrengthen the patriotic love _ of country, industry lent its application, religion her inspira- tion, philosophy. her. deductions, and the arts their living can- vas and chisseled monument. The Greek formed a part of his. state. 1 acts were, ae fore, to some extent, his acts. To him that state was the world. It had been hallowed by the achievements of his forefathers. To it belonged the dawn of his infancy, the bloom of his youth, the vigor of his manhood, the-decay of his age. -Had he affections ? that. was their centre. Had he powers of action? that furnished motives for their exet- cise. It embodied all that was beautiful, all thatwas inter- esting, all that was lovely, all that was worth'living for, all that was worth dying for, Beneath him was the Grecian. soil ; around him Grecian monuments ; above him the abodes of Grecian gods, ‘The Spartan cheerfully consented to the division of his lands among his countrymen ; to use iron as the medium in exchanging his commodities; to lay- aside all personal distinction at the public meals ; because his own loved Sparta required the sacrifice. The Athenian appealed to the strength of his nation’s ties, of his nation’s spirit, when he resigned his cherished Athens to the mercy of a Persian foe. To preserve his nation, he abandoned the monuments of his art; the sepulchers of his sires; the shrines of his Individual worth during this era is estimated from the ex- tent of individual sacrifice. The nation was the actor. The ee: Wave of Salamis ; the straits of Thermopylae ; the plain of - rt 5 the ee of natane Carthage in ashes ; a de- > - an molished empire ; a subjugated world, attest the energy of its action. The existence-of the individual is here merged in that of his nation. It is that, that inscribes its achieve- - ments in living lines on this page of the history of our race, investing this era with a nationality, rather than-an individus. ality, of character’; rendering it resplendent from the display of national glory ; imposing from. the exhibition of nation power. . In central and western og we are to find that portion of our world’s surface devoted to a new era, characterized ° by the movement of a new spirit. In the preceding’ era we ol ss ee i aki ae PO ae hee OS had seen the arts and philosophy separated from the other el- ements, and, to a very considerable extent, developed by the Greek and Roman spirit. We had seen industry, govern- - Ment, and religion, still bound together by the ties of a strong and almost indissoluble union. In the era to which we have now arrived, we are to witness the efforts of industry ih ef-. fecting its separation from the remaining primary elements, and its consequent developement, leaving only government and religion i in a state of combination. ' This effort of indus- try brings to ‘light the powers and energies of man‘ as an in- dividual, and from their freedom and vigor in action arises 7 This truth is deeply en- _ the distinctive spirit of this era. graven.on every page of modern European history. It- is told in the insubordination of its earlier periods ; ; in the an-— archy of the middle ages ; in the necessity that originated the feudal system ; ; in the strong effort, finally Victeudif! by which us bonds were sundered, and vassalage thrown off ; in the curious institution of chivalry ; 3 and in that singular’ fa- : naticism that prompted the monk to abandon ‘the solitude of his cloister, the peasant the homely delights of his cottage, and the j prince the splendor of his palace, to wrest the Holy 5 Land from the dominion of infidels. ° True, this Spirit has been both warlike and peaceful, At one time it has punoaled ip to the sword, as the sovereign arbiter of individual tight, at an other pursued the even tenor of its w ay under the quiet sane- ss tion of law. It was, oe ee the same spirit still. Its : 43 achievements in atl the departments of industry, as well asin philosophy and the arts, are numerous and important.’ The inventions, the discoveries of modern times, all stand its debtors. It has pervaded space ; sought an acquaintance with other orbs ; followed the trackless course of the comet in’ its wanderings-; and brought back intelligence, almost from the very out-posts of creation. In the sciences that in- struct, in the arts that refine, it is conspicuous. It has de- manded of the material world-the elements that compose it ; the manner of their combination ; the mode of their action. It has sought a familiar acquaintance with the- laws of life ;_ the subtleties of organization ; thé main facts of existence. It has penetrated’ the deepest recesses of mind, investigated its powers, classified its faculties, and explained their modes of operation. It has added a new world to the old, and fear- lessly explored every accessible part of both. It has been active in agricultural pursuits, in the mechanic arts and in- ventions, in the direction of human industry, into every pos- sible ‘available channel. It has instituted commercial rela- tions, and connected together the human family by the mu. tual ties of a common intercource. ' It has acquired a maste- ry over physical nature, and compelled the very elements to labor for its benefit, It has ascended to the source of things ; enquired into the modifications and reasons of existence, and investigated God’s moral government of the world: 9 4" In the effort of industry to enfranchise itself, and j in the ins divi idual energy so strongly marking this era, we recognize the key enabling us to explain some otherwise ‘anomalous appearances’ in the governments of modern: Europe. Goy- ernment here was still involved with religion, .and was, there- fore, to a greater or less extent, modified by it. It acquired for itself distinct characteristics. It became an independent science, possessing its own rules, its own system of tactics. That singular personage, the state, exchanged the moral fr the political mantle. Governments were sustained, not upo the principle of accofntability to their ‘constituents, Tat b 5 é virtue of the system of checks and balances established ex- 44 . ternally between themselves, and internally between the com: ponent parts of each individual government. They might rather be said to protect than be protected, to uphold than be upheld. This singularity i in the constitution of modern Eu- ropean governments, originated a new principle of action. This principle has been developed-in the strong and ceaseless efforts of those govérnments accurately to maintain the bal- — ance of power. It arose from the anxiety of government to perpetuate itself; to foster and protect its.own interests. It was a refinement in governmental reasoning. It was the — Bx: Be fe E: pore ee cl “logic of empire.” The consequences resulting from the - ‘ actual developement of this principle have been all important — 4 in European politics. But I must here stop at immediate — ‘results, without attempting to push them into their far reach- A Ing consequences. It is a fact worth adverting to, that the very despotic ten- dency of modern European governments, has resulted from the prevalent spirit-of this era. | In the earlier periods of theit — : existence, the spirit of liberty an equality had been infused | into these governments.. Of this, the diets of Germany, the 2 cortes of Spain, the parliament of England, and the states: — general of France, are so many attesting witnesses. They have descended to us as the relics of that period. On ‘the first page ‘of modern European history, therefore, individual gen- _ius predominates. It was left free to obey its own impulses. That freedom, with some qualification, it has ever since en- _ joyed, both under the common law of. England, and the civil law of the continent. Its prominent objects were the acqui- | sition of knowledge, and the accumulation of wealth, or crea-- tion of value. out of the inert things of nature. For the pre- 2 valence of an individual, rather than a national spirit, in this — era there exists a reason. . "Human affections must centre in eaniatingg: ‘When con-" fined, they even attach themselves to the very barrier that confines them. Witness the love of the monk for his clois- ter. He loves it, because it excludesghim from loving any. thing else. The law which controls the action of these af ee a el 45 fections, is not less clear, than the necessity of their acting. They exclude all interference with the objects of their selec- ‘tion. Over those objects they claim to exercise an undivid- ed empire. The governments of modern Europe, with: few or no exceptions, became’ established over territories of large extent, and embracing a numerous population. Government was, therefore, the common property of too great a number, to concentrate in itself the affections of’ individuals. Hence that affection attached itself to other objects, and accomplished its purposes in the advancement of the individual, through the medium, not of the state, but of the acquisition of know- ledge, and the accumulation of wealth. Two important re- sults have followed, the one a national, the other an individ- ual. “From the engrossing character of individual ‘pursuits, the first result was, that governments were left to take care of themselves. They did take good care of themselves. Until recently they have possessed a decidely —_ ten- ency. | The other result is told in the fact of individual advance- ment. The science of political economy originated from the activity of the individual spirit of this era—That science was unknown to the Greeks and Romans. They never dreamed of dividing themselves into producing, distributing, and con- suming classes.. It was left to this era to develope the indi- vidual spirit in all the various departments ¢ of industry. To facilitate the operations of that spirit, the: numerous: versified objects of individual pursuit have been subdivided ‘into their distinct and appropriate classes. - _ The division of labor has been regarded as the true barometer, indicating, with unerring certainty, the degree towards perfection, fo which every social system has advanced. This division has been-refined, and refined, until the very pin that connects - our garments has passed through eighteen distinct operations, requiring the agency of eighteen different persons, before a complete finish is given to it. This extreme division of labor | has resulted in affording every person employment ; in pre- 46 senting to every one a choice of employment ; in extending — a fs by most of the European powers ; thus limiting its beneficial 4 the comforts and conveniencies of life to the greatest possible number ; in producing a mutual intercourse between man and — man ; in rendering all the parts of society reciprocally depen- dant ‘on each other, thus consolidating the whole by the strongest of earthly bends—the bond of interest. But notwithstanding the triumphs of industry during this: era; notwithstanding the proud trophies it has handed down tous as the fruits of its herculean efforts, it had not ‘yet achieved its complete enfranchisement’ from. its previously enveloped condition. Its union with government was still too clearly perceptible i in the adoption of restrictive systems, results, by restraining its freedom of action. Industry can only find its best possible distribution, and its greatest quanti- : ty of encouragement, when all the markets of the world are freely opened to its products. Humanity during this, and the previous era, had aicniaall 2 much, but not all. She bad. not yet reached her acme. Her highest point of-attainnient yet laid in another hemispheres — We had seen a successive separation, and gradual develope- — ment, of human elements. The arts, and philosophy, and im | dustry, except one remaining point of union, had successive- ly achieved their, enfranchisement, and inscribed, in enduring — characters, on the historic page the results of their progres- sive developement. We were yet to see industry compel disenthralled. We were yet to see the only remaining sepa- Satins tint of Se ssagigs osu n government. We had seen a of sea Pe : ton ‘a cs f our history ; a spirit 3 national movement the.second:;, and-individual enterprise and. activity, soatrained however by governmental interference, enlivening the third.. We were. yet to seé car- tied more extensively into practical operation, the important’ doctrine, that this world was made for individuals, not: for nations. We were yet to see, at least, the disposition to ac knowledge the broad truth, thts all’ the ‘possible develope ; 47 . “ments of human nature in industry, in government, in ‘the arts, in religion; and in philosophy, are far better made in accordance with the laws enacted by its author, than under those imposed by governmental or any other agency. Based upon the recognition of thjs truth, we were yet to see the in- dividual man standing upon this world’s great theatre, an ac- _ ‘tor by himself; depending upon his own energies; relying ‘upon his own resources ; 7 and wholly divested of the adv@nti- | tious aid of government. We were to-see him shaping his — course alone on the-great. ocean of life ; with ‘the universal _ principles of human action for his chart ; his own strong perinss for his pilot his polar star the heaven of the sta py: A new portion: of our earth was richie ‘for this last sep- aration, and for the further progressive dev elopement of human elements. In finding it, humanity, to be consistent with her former movements, ruil travel westward. She didso. The Atlantic wave interposed but a feeble barriers the then .un- broken forests of our own dear land but a momentary obstacle. — It requires an energy strong indeed, to stop or stay the migh- ty march of man on the broad surface of this globe. . “America presents a field fitted to call forth the highest pos- sible exertion. It is a goodly portion of a goodly world, Nature here blends the sublime ‘with the beautiful ; and in ‘her happy disposition of the mountain and the plain; of the _ river and the lake ; of the bay and the harbor ; ‘in sher diver- "sities of climate; her varieties | of soil ; her’ numerous and ‘dissimilar pied utibas ; in her beauties of prospect ; hersub- limity of design ; her felicity of execution, she seems to have _ united, in one grand result, the perfection of all her previous models. ‘It was never intended that man only should dwin- dle here. His first-act in the assumption of a national thar- . acter, exhibited the noblest specimen of moral sublimity ever yet presented to the’world.. The American revolution was the offspring of ‘ho- ‘momentary ebullition. “It proceeded less from physical, than from moral oppression. It was the firm, 45 wins i bitaialla resolve of a reason, to perileven ‘life itself upon a mere issue of right. a ‘The government established upon _ its termination varied © from any ever before attempted. It combined, in almost equal proportions, federal and national principles. It united the distinctive characteristics of monarchy, aristocracy and. democracy in harmonious proportions. It amalgamated the priftciple of accountability, thé basis of the. Greek and Roman ‘commonwealths, with the system of checks and balances es- " tablished in modern Europe. It admirably tended to unite the Greek and Roman love of country with the European ~ : love of self. In selecting the perfections, of all previous models, and. combining them together in beautiful propor- tions, man: only acted in accordance with the lessons already taught him by nature in the physical formation of his happy country ; lessons which he could read written in legible characters upon the summit of every mountain; in the bosom of every valley ; on the shore of every lake ; in he course of every stream. We are here called upon to witness the separation of the : last elements that still remained.in | a state of combination. Goyernment and religion, had continued indissolubly bound together during all the three previous eras. Neither of them had improved from the alliance. Here * ‘was sundered the -bond of their union. Government. was” called upon to ace 4 count to man; man only recognized his accountability to his God. The last lingering tie that connects industry. with - goverrtment. is also about being inteted in the pansion: of the restrictive system. Well might humanity hold a jubilee upon ‘the final separa- | tion of her elements. Well might she pause upon this proud pinacle of her attainment, this elevated Himaleh of her world, and examine the successive steps of her progress hither. . ‘The world had been the theatre of her action; time the chronicler of her acts; nations and individuals her actors. She had travelled over the fallen column ; the mlering 49 monument, the sepulchral city, the ruined state, the demol- ished kingdom, the dismembered empire. At her bidding, the nation had appeared upon her theatre ; performed its part in developing the grand plot in her drama, and retired be- hind the scene. It disappeared when it had nothing more to fulfil; when its mission was accomplished; when the con- dition was complied with under which its existence had been permitted. Every important step in her advancement had required a sacrifice. Greece and Rome had retired to give 4 place to the modern European movement. All had been losers except herself. Her progress had been onward still, whether she encountered society or solitude, the city’s tite or the empire’s grave. But humanity stops not at the ultimate separation of her elements. Those elements when separated, are each to be developed, and in that developement to exhaust her entire capacity. Industry, relieved from governmental visitation in the shape of discriminating duties, is to be carried out into all its possible varieties of application. Its empire is established over the useful ; its achievements, the creation of value out of things in themselves valueless ; its instruments, human hands and the complicated machinery that has been devised to aid them in their efforts ; its object, human ee in the sup- ply it furnishes - iad: ‘Wants. Bot e great organ of dig, in the bith animal wyetaid iti is to feel without bain felt, to act without being perceived. That government is to be the most perfect, that allows man the utmost possible freedom in his industry, in his arts, in his religion, in his philosophy. The arts are to reflect the forms of nature moulded and embellished by the human mind. They are to add beauty to the beautiful, sublimity to the sublime. They are to collect from all forms their peculiar beauties ; to recombine them - harmonious proportions ; and to exhibit i in one powerful view, a a strength in design; a oe in execution ; a perfection G 50 in model ; attainable only when the ane of nature are cast ‘ in the mould of mind. de _ Religion is to be the pure aspiration | sent forth from man to his Maker. It is the foundation of his hope, the soul of ‘his wish, the spirit of his. desire. It is the point of union be- tween this world and a betier ; ; the golden cord, the firm bond, the indissoluble sa connecting sae with her Au i thor. the mirror reflecting all the. other attainments of humanity. Her province is to investigate and develope the principle of things.. ‘In industry she is the essence of its application ; nd government, the spirit of its action ; in the. proportion ; in religion, the soul of ils i ins iration. the true expositor of all elemental modifi principles of action ; of all:the modes of existence. mental Sévelopements. In them were as be expended the energies of humanity, when she no longer required their aid | in effecting the separation of her elements.. The true spirit. of this era, therefore, is the spirit of developement. The ex- istence of man is here given subject to one condition—that of directing all his energies to the developement of one or more of these great elements of humanity. The same original di- versity in talent and disposition that leads to the division of labor in all the various departments of the element of indus- try, leads to the division of human energies in carrying out, at the same time, to their utmost possible extent of practical detail, all the other elements; their developement, therefore, must not only be progressive, but simultaneous. tent of ‘developement, when humanity has reached her zenith, is she to rest satisfied with her highest attainments here > No. The new world must re-act on the old. The same spirit that here characterizes our free institutions ; that unfolds all our individual and national movements, must cross the Atlantic, Philosophy, or the recognition of the is: in itself, is to be : it when these elements are pushed to their ultimate ex- — and, in Europe, the old world’s great field of action, pervade f fe with its benign influence, every kingdom, and state, and city, and hamlet, and human habitation. That spirit has already: gone forth. The fires of reyolution that have beon kindled in France, in Spain, in Italy, in Greece, that even yet linger amid the still smouldering ashes of Poland, attest the depth and energy of its operations. The conventions of crowned heads, that have, at different times, been held at Vienna, at Verona, at Laybach, attest the same fact.. The direct ten- dencies of things in that interesting portion of our globe can- _- not be mistaken. Institutions that are recommended solely by ir. bi a - \e ferent spirit from. that ‘which now predominates, are fast — crumbling away beneath the influence of public opinion. We have quite recently seen a crown going abroad in search of a head to wear it; and even when found, the natural affinity between head and shoulders was by no means strengthened by the golden incumbrance. Yes, the old world is hereaf- ter to receive its main impulses from the new. From that world we have received much, to it we are to communicate more. In the sole department of discovery, we might now almost claim to hold its people our debtors, While we cheer- fully accord to them all the commendation they so justly de- serve for their numerous and splendid discoveries in the ele- ments of industry, of government, of the arts, of religion, apd of philosophy; they, in return, will thank our. Franklin that the thunderbolt fal Is bamaley, from: Abc: dwellings, ‘and bless ur Fult an that tha etaam alm tance on their rivers. At this very period; one e the peer ing principles in all their material movements, is a direct reference to the state and condition of things on this side the Atlantic. The successful deselsgatvenst ‘so happily commenced, of all the separated elements of humanity in the new world, has appealed to similar elements in the old. That appeal has met with a response fatal to kingly claims. Government is there endeavoring to mould itself after our model. Let us 52 beware then of “ breaking the Pattern.” ‘The other elements, industry, the arts,. religion, and philosophy, are striving to attain a state of oe separation and independent devel- opement.. The desatiol he saiiich the new world communicates its impulses to the old, is of a moral, not a physical nature. Physicat force has almost performed its fall errand upon earth. The commercial relations that have already arisen, and are yet to arise, upon the entire separation of industry from the other elements, consequent upon the rejection of all restric- tive systems ; the ties that result, necessarily, from a common intercourse ; the friendly relations growing out of a constant exchange of commodities ; the firm conviction that the con- tinuance of that exchange between each, is essential to the comfort, convenience and happiness of all, will effectually prevent every interruption from belligerent causes. The time is yet to come, when Europe and America, ori- ginally marked out as the great spheres of this world’s ac- tion, are to bow to the influence of a moral sceptre ; when that influence will be alone sufficient to insure to each sepas ‘ rated element, that freedom which is essential to its complete developement; when the appeal of the injured will be made to man’s moral nature; and when the deep felt conviction of another’s wrong, will be more effectual in its redress, than a million of bayonets. This moral government, coupled with the full and complete developement of every human element, is the highest possible attainment of humanity ; it is the last series of an hitherto constantly increasing progression; it is the near approximation of humanity to Deity ; it is that proud point in this world’s history, from which man can address his God and say—We now realize the promise of thy coming. Se ey oe Seed ali é iaets, def eae, I ~ BRONGNIARTIA. TRILOBITOIDE Plate U Ce te ae re r sad 4 ~- Art. IV. Description of anew Crustaceous JInimal found. on the Shores of the Sovurn SHETL AND Islands, with Remarks on their Natural History. By James Eicurs, Naturalist to the Exploring Expedition of 1830, and en wore Member — * A copy of this drawing is given in Plate 3. Fig.23¢ Western Lumb. "Gul ‘é Uk ISD a ae “< | cannot account for the ‘brightness that surrounded the moon, beyond what may be supposed to be her atmosphere, in any other way than by considering ‘that body as possessing phosphoric prop- erties in an eminent degree, and having the faculty of ejecting con- tinually the light it has received from the sun and stars, after per- hhaps having partially decomposed it, in a manner somewhat simi- lar to thc progress by which air is imbibed and emitted with. changed properties by the leaves of vegetables, and also for pur- poses not altogether dissimilar. Such an emission of light, which cannot be perceived by us at any other time than when the sun is totally eclipsed, must necessarily cause an appearance like what was displayed on that occasion. ' © That the light which comes from the moon to us has wsdl some change is, I think, evident from its having a paler colour than that which comes from the sun. ‘The luminous circle on the edge of the moon, was remarkably so. It had that bluish tint which distinguishes the colour of quicksilver from a dead white. ‘‘ I attempted to make observations on the stages of the eclipse, but, for the want of a meridian and glasses of sufficient power, I am sorry I could not make them with the accuracy I wished; I however send them as they are. ‘They may possibly be of some use among the collections from other quarters. I have also taken some pains to ascertain the extent of the moon’s shadow, ina northerly and southerly direction. The best information I have received is from Judge Thorn, of Washington county, who assures .me that the edge of the shadow passed nearly along the south bounds of Campbell’s patent, in the town of Granville, which, on — my map of the state, lies in lat. 43° 22’ and long. 45’ ea county of Orange, who determined the southern edge the shadow in the town of Montgomery, to have crossed the road leading from Ward’s bridge to Goshen, three miles and five chains from the bridge. This will be about lat. 41° 30’ and long. 0° 14’ west from the meridian of New-York. The middle of a straight line between these two places falls on Hudson’s river in lat, 42° 26’, where therefore the centre of the shadow must have passed. If it would be of any use for the purpose of correcting the lunar tables to ascertain with precision the diameter of the moon’s shad- ow, and the exact part of the earth on which it fell, it might be done with great accuracy in this case, as the path of the shadow 72 was nearly at right angles with our meridian. And the truth of the result would therefore chiefly depend on observations to deter- mine the latitude of two places nearly north and south of each other.’” For this communication | received a special and flattering ac- knowledgement from the Society, and was told that an engraving of the delineation of the eclipse which I had sent would have been made, had not one already been prepared * from a drawing of Mr. Ferrers, who observed the eclipse at Kinderhook, which very closely resembled mine.” I have introduced this letter on the present occasion for the purpose of pursuing, to a greater length, some of the ideas suggested in it, and which may lead to a wide field of speculation. I have said in my letter to Dr. Rush, that I could not account for the brightness that surrounded the moon, beyond what might be supposed to be her atmosphere, in any other way than by con- sidering that body as possessing phosphoric properties in an emi- nent degree : I shall now make some observations for the purpose of elucidating thatremark. . Light in itself is invisible; its existence, like that of soul or spirit, can only be known by its effects or operations perceptible to our senses. The existence of light is made known to us only, either by its rendering visible the body from which it emanates, or the bodies on which it falls. The luminous streams which pro- ceeded from the moon, during the total eclipse of the sun, to the distance of some thousands of miles, could not then be simple light, but some grosser material which either contained the mat- ter of light in itself, and which was made visible by sending that light to the eye, or it must have been something on which light fell, and was thereby made visible, in the same manner that the common objects that surround us are made visible. The latter supposition is inadmissible, because there is no evi- dence that the moon has an atmosphere of any great extent, and therefore there is nothing about her, beyond this, capable to sup- port matter from which light can be reflected, certainly not to the — extent of the luminous rays that proceeded from her during the eclipse. The only possible way then, according to my apprehen- sion, to account for this appearance is, to consider the moon as @ ; e body incessantly pouring out, not light merely, but something con- stituted of minute particles, each possessing precisely the same properties which the sun and ignited bodies possess, that is, t0 73 render ain dinible, by etitinigind rays of light to the eye, not by reflection but by direct emanations from themselves. This is what J call phosphoric or phosphorescent, as a property eminently possessed by the moon ; perhaps strictly considered, it may be more properly called a property of each particle of matter in those rays which proceeded from the moon, and formed what has been called the glory that surrounded her On such subjects it is impossible to avai: theory, because the requisites, demanded by the rules of philosophizing, are not at- tainable here, that is, to admit nothing, as the premises of a syllo- gism, but facts proved by experiment, or in order to arrive at a moral certainty, facts deduced from undoubted analogy. For the manner in which I shall further treat this subject, I may then plead an illustrious example, to wit, Herschel, who has stratified the universe with suns, and placed ours in one of his strata, as a speck in that which compose the milky way. By reasoning from ’ analogy, Dr. Franklin arrived at the conclusion that lightning and electricity were the same, and he thus arrived at truth, as certain- ly as if his subsequent experiments to prove it had never been made, although the conviction of it, on the minds of others, might not have been so complete. With these preliminary remarks for an apology, I shall now give my theory on the subject under con- sideration, with such reasons in support of it as its nature will admit. Throughout the universe, as far as our observations can extend, every thing is in a state of activity and mutation, and every sub- stance in nature seems to be designed, either to impart some of its own properties to others for their benefit, or in some way to sub- serve their purposes. It is true our limited knowledge does not permit us to perceive all this in every subject submitted to our view, but the further our knowledge extends the further do we perceive that this is a law, established in the councils of the om- nipotent, allwise and illimitably beneficient Author of all that fills the universe, by which every thing without exemption is governed. _It is further to be observed that nothing as a cause is limited in its production toa single effect, but that every thing which is operative as a cause, produces as many effects as from its nature it is qualified to produce. In order to illustrate this let us take the sun as an example. What may be the extent of his services to the worlds that compose the solar system, and others beyond it, we cannot tell. But this we do know, that it is the sun which makes K 74 every thing visible, and should he be designed for this purpose alone, considering how perfectly that purpose is answered, it must be pronounced a contrivance worthy the almighty Architect ; but he is made to answer other purposes, wonderful beyond concep- tion and countless in number. By his influence all the phenome- na of our globe and every thing around it are produced ; without him our earth and all it supports would be as inanimate and inert as an icicle, appended to the skirts of the creation. He puts into a state of activity the latent heat contained in all earthly substan- ces, by which all the mutations in the animal, vegetable, mineral and aerial departments of nature are produced : subjects of human research interminable, and the increasing objects of our wonder. | The sun raises the waters of the ocean, lakes, rivers, and every other receptacle of them, to the firmament, along which the bur- den is carried in clouds, and scattered over every region, for the reshment and invigoration of: the vegetable creation. ‘The sun causes the tempest, the thunder and the lightning, as well as the breeze and the zephyr, which, in the sultry season, play so grate- fully about the animal frame. The sun is the. primum mobile in — the laboratory where diamonds, gold, silver, and all other metals. and minerals are manufactured. It is the sun that paints, not — only the rainbow, but the flowers of the garden and of the field. — It is he who hatches, from their embryos, rears to maturity, and z sustains, during their existence, the myriads of animated beings : that swarm in the earth, the air and the waters of our globe. It is _ he who arranges and gives those inimitable tints to the magnifi- — cent drapery of heaven, which overhangs him, as he retreats Le % hind our horizon in the west. The moon is a domestic attendant on our earth, and seems evi- ia dently intended as her special handmaid. It is therefore to be pre- sumed that her office is to render us numerous services. Those — which are universally recognized are her giving us light in the absence of the sun, and causing the tides of the ocean. But can this be all? On the principle that every cause must produce as many effects as its nature is qualified to produce, this is not tobe Let us now enquire what other good services she may render us. The appearances exhibited during the eclipse shewed us that there is an emanation of something from the moon. This, from the nature of things, could be seen by us only in a lateral dir rection. It was not caused by the eclipse, but only rendered per Wa A ds ce ae ee ERI Lai ier es atl Se ak 75 ceptible by that circumstance. It may therefore be concluded that this emanation is not occasional but perpetual, and that it is in all direetions, and must therefore be equally directed towards us as to other parts of our system. It is therefore to be presumed that our atmosphere receives a share of its influence, and that influence must be for salutary purposes ; for the whole economy of nature in all its departments, is evidently formed on a plan of reciprocal benefits. There is no such thing as a malignant — as astrolo- gers have imagined. Modern discoveries have brought to our kniberlediger the fact that the leaves of plants and the lungs of animals perform analogous functions. The lungs of animals inhale the atmospheric fluid, take from it what is salutary, and impart to it what is noxious to the animal system. ‘The vegetable then inhales the same atmos- pheric fluid, takes from it, as its salutary food, what was ejeeted by the animal as noxious, and sends it back to him, thus purified, for a second inspiration, and thus the animal and vegetable breathe | into each others’ lungs the air which is essential in its qualities to the vitality and nourishment of both. In the same manner it may be supposed that the earth and moon may render each other recipro- cal services. ‘The emanations from the sun may be considered as the atmosphere in which the earth and moon are immersed. The moon inhales and retains within herself what of it is salutary, and sends it back with what is noxious to her constitution, and this same matter the earth may then inhale, take from it what has been ejected as noxious by the moon, -but as salutory to the earth, for her reinvigoration in the performance of her proper functions or to be thereby supported (if the phrase may be allowed) in a constant healthy condition.. This matter is the phosphoric eufflvium before noticed, as radiating from the moon, “and which, being ejected by a strong repulsive pewer, will, like light, continue its course until it is intercepted by the earth. These observations apply to the constant and ordinary services of the moon to her mistress. What I have farther to remark is about her extraordinary services, when she steps in between us and the sun, especially when she thereby causes a total pes such as that which has elicited these comments. The late Chancellor Livingston favored the Society for the pro- motion of Useful Arts with a very interesting memoir on the com- 76 parative effects of the shades of different trees on vegetation, and as I purpose to make use of the facts he has stated, in support of what I have further to say on this subject, it will be necessary for me to make considerable quotations from that paper. It is con- _tained in a letter to Dr. Mitchill in 1792—after some intron remarks he says— **] shall be able to offer you nothing on the subject of experi- mental husbandry that will merit your attention, unless it be an observation which I have frequently made, but with more atten- tion this year than before, and which may, I conceive, if properly pursued, lead to important consequences. I mean the baleful ef fect of the shade (if I may so call it) of some trees upon the vege- tation of corn, I will state the facts as they have appeared to me, and you will the more readily comprehend my ideas. I planted. maize on the west side of a young wood, consisting of oaks, pop- lars, a few chestnuts and a large mulberry, somewhat advanced in the field. The shade made by the rising sun extended nearly across the field and was not entirely off until about ten o'clock. 1 | remarked that as far as the shade of the chestnut reached, the corn _ was Saepinely apgnired, it was ee and small : the conical shape of trees, might be traced toaconsid- : erable atgans: in the sickly appearance of the plants. The black ' oaks were likewise injurious, but less so than the chestnuts, the poplar was very little so. Near the mulberry tree, the corn was covered by its shade for a very long time every morning, and — though not so large as that which had more sun, maintained a +h ] healthy appearance. To what cause are we to attribute this phe- nomenon ? It is certainly not the mere absence of light or heat, fot in this case the trees would have been equally i injurious, or rather — the mulberry tree would have been the most so. It is not to any opping from the tree, for the corn grew under none but the muk berry. It is not to any effuvia from the trees, for this would either be emitted in circles or wafted irregularly by the wind. ~“Whereas. the shape of the shade was plainly traced on the corn, Were1 permitted to form a conjecture upon this extraordinary circum- — stance, I should conclude that the mischief was not occasioned by the shade, but by those rays of light that actually passed through the tree, either perforating the leaves (for none of them are per fectly opaque) or being brought in contact with them, and that this 2 TF ~ light served as a menstruum, to dissolve certain parts of the tree, noxious to the corn, and as a vehicle to convey it in the direction of the rays, (which necessarily is that of the shade.) As the injury is done in the line in which the direct rays of light pass through the tree, it must follow that neither air nor water are solvents of this body, for if they were, it would be wafted in different direc- tions. If this idea is just, what a field does it open for important discoveries,” In 1793, Chancellor Livingston made another communication, detailing his observations on the effects of light passing through chestnut, black oak, mulberry and apple trees, on a field of buck- wheat, at the conclusion of which he says: ‘* This experiment which I have made with attention, under the most favorable cir- cumstances, as well with respect to the position of the trees, the. nature of the yegetable, and the season of the year, has confirmed me in the theory I hinted to you, that the injury which some vege- tables receive from the shade of certain trees,lis not owing simply to the diminution of light, but either toa change the light undergoes in passing through them, or from its dissolving and becoming the vehicle of some substance noxious to certain plants, contained in the tree through which it passes. ‘There are few facts in physics that do not admit of useful deductions. I have taken pains to es- tablish this, that you or some other chemist of more leisure and equal information may make them,” or the purpose of my theory I will now fake it for granted that the observations of Chancellor Livingston satisfactorily prove that the rays of the sun serye as amenstruum to dissolve or decompose certain substances, and after such decomposition, can and do, car- ry with them parts of such substances and impart them to remote _ objects. Or that, in some other manner, _ properties inherent in the leaves of trees, “are by the sun-beams conveyed to distant ob- jects. The luminous girdle round the moon (if I may so call it) what was it? or what was the cause of its appearance ? There must have been something occupying that space, with properties, either to radiate light or to reflect it; or, when the sun was behind the moon, to refract a portion of his rays so as to fall in parallel lines on the eye. In support of the two first suppositions no facts or reasons are known, sufficient to raise a plausible presumption. The last supposition is thanelonn that which I shall adopt ; and for its support it that the moon has a trans- parent atmosphere to the extént of this luminous girdle. =? D It has been positively concluded that there is no lunar atmos-— phere from the circumstance that stars passing behind her disap- pear instantaneously when they come ina line with her edge, which — is alledged could not happen if there was an atmosphere about her. _ But let it be remembered that this conclusion will hold good only in the supposition that the matter of which the lunar atmosphere is — ‘composed, is like that of ours, that is, decreasing gradually in ~ density from the surface of the body it surrounds, as it recedes rom it. But the atmosphere of the moon, which causes the ap- pearance under consideration, is evidently of a uniform density; — for the exterior edge of the luminous girdle was as strongly and : distinctly marked as the interior, and in such case, the conclusion — drawn from the instantaneous disappearance of the stars, as before mentioned, is inadmissible. It is carrying analogical reasoning too far to take, as a postulate in this case, that if the moon has an atmosphere, it must be in all respects like ours. From what has — been observed it appears highly probable thatshe has an atmos phere, and that it is of a uniform density. What the matter of itis, : whether water, air or something else not belonging to this earth, is immaterial : it is sufficient, for my theory, that it has the property _ of every other diaphanous medium, through which light passes, refract its rays, ‘This atmospheric girdle, let it be further remark ed, was completely distinct, in its colour as well as its bounds, from the luminous streams of phosphoric light emitted from the moon, as observed during the eclipse. It must therefore have been essentially different in its nature and the cause which pro- duced it. A There is then no way to account for this dazzling cincture about the moon, but to take the fact for granted, or rather proved, that she has an atmosphere, and that it differs from ours in the manner assumed ; and further, that at the moment when a star touches __ the exterior edge of this atmosphere, its rays will be so refracted — ' as to become instantly invisible. — _ Our atmosphere contains a great variety of heterogenous mat-— ter, such as the oxygen, hydrogen and azotic gases, What the atmosphere of the moon contains it is impossible to know ; but it is presumable that it also contains a variety of heterogenous matter, — and as nothing is created in vain, that, like every other thing, must be intended for useful purposes, and considering the moon a8 § 79 the special ateondiais upon our world, these penne must be chiefly intended for our benefit. The rays of the sun, we know, are coestibuied of mst lial tween which and other substances, there is a mutual attraction. Their refrangibility can be accounted for on no other principle, When a ray of light falls in an oblique direction on the surface of a transparent body, at it approaches that surface it is attracted by it, and its direction is thereby changed. ‘This is what we call re- fraction, and it incontestibly proves, the attractive quality of light. Now if it be admitted in this instance, it must be allowed that light possesses what chemists call elective attraction. If light then, in passing through the atmosphere of the moon, meets with matter which has a stronger attraction to it, than to that to which it is attached, it will immediately leave it, attach itself to the ray of light, and be carried away by it, till it meets with some other substance which has a still stronger attachment to it, and there it will then be deposited. That substance, in the case under consideration, is our earth, for whose benefit this wonderful contrivance in the machinery of nature has been devised. If it be objected to this theory, that if the light of the sun be thus refracted from behind the moon, as it is from behind the earth, before he is actually above our horizon, the light of the sun, thus refracted by the atmosphere of the moon, would be as intense as if it came without any intervention direct to the eye. The objection is readily met by noticing the effects ascribed to the moon, which necessarily require the exercise of functions which will essentially change the properties of the rays of the sun, in their passage through the atmosphere of the moon. It has already been stated that the rays of the sun do possess the property of attraction, or which is the same thing, of being attract- ed. This is a fact proved, and wherever this property does exist, all our observations prove elective attraction a necessary conse- quence and, equally so, a double elective attraction, where circum- stances favour it. I shall now make a supposition wich I think must be allowed to be fortified by the strongest degree of probability. It is this. The rays of the sun, like all other existences in the material crea- tion, as far as human research has gone, are found to be, not sim- j ple, but compounds of matter. This is proved by the prismatic analysis. ‘The atmosphere of the moon must be of the same cha- racter.. Take these things for granted, and it must follow, that the — atmosphere of the moon will take from the rays of the sun passing 4 through it that for which it has the strongest attraction, and this — attraction may be considered her natural appetite for what is ne- — cessary food, to qualify her for the due performance of her fanc- tions ; and it is moreover a natural supposition that this matter - must be the most fiery part of the rays of the sun, which, being: imbibed by the moon, give to her the properties of a highly charg: — ed phosphoric body, the uses of which have been already consid- ered. The light of the sun thus transmitted will be so mellowed — as to cause no unpleasant sensations in the eye that receives it. — This removes the abové mentioned objection to this theory. Again, the rays of the sun, in passing through*the atmosphere of the moon, will take from it that for which they have the strong: est attraction and carry it to our earth ; and this, whatever it bey considering the benevolent designs .manifested in every depart ment of the creation, must be intended for our good, What this may be, in this case, is perhaps beyond conjecture; but this we ae do know, that all earthly matter is subject to continual mutation, — between deterioration and melioration, for the balancing of which — : there appears to be a provision in every branch of the econ omy of nature ; and matter, thus conveyed from the moon to us may be essential for such a purpose. This can only happen in oc Chancellor Livingston i in confirmation of this theory, and submit the reasonings contained in this memoir in confirmation of his- may appeal also to the authority of Euler, who, in that con- stellation’ of philosophers, who illuminated the world in the two last centuries, has been universally acknowledged as a star of the first magnitude. He founded his theory about the tails of comets : (generally considered the most plausible of the many that have beet ) on the postulate that the rays of the sun could carry with — them, or propel the vapors, that compose the atmosphere of thos : bodies, to the distance, at least to which their tails are visible -*he momentum of moving bodies is as the quantities of matter they contain, multiplied into their velocities, Then, although the — particles of light may be incalculably small, yet their velocity, be ing so inconceivably great, as we know it to be, their momentum may be sufficient to produce very sensible effects. ‘That such , the sine we know with certainty, at least i in one case. a a it If the rays of light, from a circumscribed luminous body, fall on a particular part of the retina of the eye, they will, by their:im- petus on the nerves, so wound them, as partially to paralyze that . part for a time, so that, if soon afterwards, the eye be directed to an object with a white surface from which light is reflected, that portion of light, which falls on the paralyzed part, will not pro- duce the usual effect of vision, but represent, as a dark pets that part of the object from which the light is reflected to it. The difference of size between that of a particle of light and of a cannon ball, may almost, but cannot be absolutely, infinite— The effects which either can produce are governed by the same law already quoted, that is, the quantity of matter in each multi plied by its velocity.” If then a ball, discharged from a cannon, has an effect to propel whatsoever may be in its course, so has a ray of light ; both are governed by the well known laws of moving. bodies impinging on those that are at rest. If the proportions be= tween the one and the other are the same, the effect will be the same, differing only in degree. If then the sun-beams can, in passing through the moon’s atmosphere, carry with them some- thing contained in it to thisearth, whether it be by elective at- traction or by impulse, the theory that has been advanced respect- ing the functions of the moon, cannot be considered as absurd, or destitute of plausibility, to such a degree as not to claim for ita rational assent. The tooth of time crumbles every thing into atoms, and the re- generating energies of nature constantly recompose them into or- . hodies. - oe are matters of daily observation 5 $. and this. process cannot be thus unceasingly in operation without admitting the position that the atoms, aggregated in the various substances belonging to this earth, and probably, all that compose the universe, do, by their faculties of attraction and repulsion, and perhaps some others unknown to us, so operate as to produce the ultimate results for which those provisions of nature are made, and which we perceive - in the origin, growth, maturity, decline and destruction of. isuery thing about us, besides the many other wonderful continually witness. 82 What produces magnetism, galvanism and electricity ? appar- a ently lifeless masses of matter—iron, silver, zinc, glass. It ap- pears, prima facie, absurd to think that such bodies can, bya proper agency of the materials which compose them, produce any effect whatever, much less such powerful ones as those they do actually produce. Hence we are driven to the necessity of con- cluding that there is life in them, and that it is, by the combined agency of the particles of which they are composed, that such ef- fects are produced. While those bodies of matter are presented as absolutely dead masses, they contain the most active materials within them, work- ing miracles as incapable of solution as the mysteries of eternity. Under such a view of the constitution of the material creation, I cannot conceive that any substantial objection can be brought against the theory I have advanced, respecting the functions of the moon and her services to the earth. But whether this-theory be well sustained or not, it excites re- flections which crowd so thick on the mind that language is inca- pable of giving them utterance. If it be true that nothing is cre- ated in vain, or to be mere inert, inoperative matter ; if it be true that every thing acting asa cause, produces as great a number of effects as, from a constitution designed for the greatest possible good, it is capable of producing ; and if we are warranted in say- ing that as far as our discoveries extend there appears to be a rer ciprocity of salutary effects and mutual services between all the agencies of material substances, may we not view the creation and every organized body it contains, nay, every imperceptible as well as perceptible atom belonging to it, as in a state of ceaseless ac tivity, all engaged in executing the benevolent purposes of the Governor of the universe. It is true that many of them appear to be dormant, or perfectly lifeless until the appropriate exciting means rouse them into action, and then they exhibit their tremen- dous powers. Witness the degree of combustion, almost beyond credibility, produced by galvanism, and the. destruction made by a stroke of lightning; and yet we know that all these have their salutary effects and are intended for the wisest purposes, There is a relation between all, even the most distant worlds that float in the immensity of space, as well as between the parts _ of which they are composed. How wonderfully do those mysteri- ous powers, the centrifugal and centripetal forces, control ever? * 83 orb that rolls through the immensity of space, and confine it to the path traced for it by the finger of the Creator! What can we say of the attraction between worlds and worlds, as well as between the infinitely minute particles of matter that constitute this globe and every other part of the visible creation, and the wonderful re- sults, but that such is the fiat of the Almighty, who can make a sun-beam the carrier of necessary restoratives between inhabitants of systems of millions of miles apart from each other. How do such considerations confound, and set at nought, all our endeav- ors to form adequate conceptions of the power and wisdom of the great incomprehensible Creator and Governor of the universe ! Ant. VI. Areponewicis Onsenyarions made at Berlin, Wor. oe _ cester County, M. eal 4 February, 1831,) with some of their : a _ Results. By eal Avexanper, A.M. Tutor in the Ceti oth New-Jersey, Corresponding Member. Communicated, August, 1833. Latitude of the place of observation, 38° 19! N. ; ce ~ Approximate longitude of do. 75° 15! W. of Greenwich. © ~ the eclipse of the 12th of February, 1831, would not Pe annular at any place in the state of New-York, | left Alb Lg ' some days previous to that time, having determined to station : myself at some point in the state of Maryland, as near as practi- cable to the path of the centre of the moon’s penumbra i Previous to my departure, I was kindly furnished, ‘by his Ex- cellency Gov. Throop, with a general letter of introduction, and by my friend Prof. Joslin, of Union College, with a valuable sex- tant, by Troughton, graduated upon platinum, and measuring tens _ of seconds. To the politeness of Mr. Edmund Blunt, of New- | York city, I am also indebted for the loan of an excellent poc chronometer, by Barraud. +. procured likewise for the occasion, an achromatic telescope, which was mounted ona brass stand, magnified about eighty times in diameter. To this list of i - struments should also be added Fahrenheit’s. thermometer. Ay. vailing myself of what information I could previously procu e ‘that which I obtained i in the course of my journey, I finally selected for the place of observation the village of Berli Worcester county. With considerable difficulty I succeeded reaching that place on the evening of the 11th February. Although the weather on the morning of the 12th, presented a appearance which scemed to indicate that the day would 0 cloudy, yet this soon changed ; and during the entire continua of the eclipse, we were favored with a cloudless sky. ~The times at which the principal phenomena took ‘place, as it dicated by the chronometer, were as follows—that instrument having been, originally, set to Greenwich time: ‘ ain at . . « 4h. 48m, 134s. at © $5 which reduced 10. mean time at the place, in accordance with ob- servations made on that and several succeeding days, will “es as follows; Beginning at. . . ih. 200, 473.70 A, M. civil recheenings Formation of the ring, 0 55. 8,93 P.M. eiehl of do. -0 56. 54,66 End coon cay GR 226 a ae The observation of the beginning was highly satisfactory ; the | breadth of the indentation of the Sun’s limb when first noticed did not, as appeared to the eye, exceed a degree and a half or two de- grees of the Sun’s circumference ; it consequently, could scarcely have been more than a second’of a great circle in depth. A few the Moon advanced, its edge exhibited a remark- ne not far’‘from the sniddwe-of: the arc then projected ‘ gpon the Sun’s disc. South of this prominence, and at no very great distance from it, an indentation of great breadth and very con- siderable depth, was soon afterwards discernible. ‘These ragged appearances, as the Moon advanced, became quite numerous ; some portions of her edge appearing very rough, especially near the south pole. ‘This roughness was, however, almost entirely con- ** tothe eastern half of the edge; the western, except at the formation. of the ring, appeared remarkably smooth. During the first hour of the eclipse, a small band of that part of the Sun’s disc which bordered the edge of that of the Moon, ap- peared for some time, brjghicr than the remainder of the visible portion-of the Sun: ‘This appearance was even discernible with the small telescope attached to the sextant, to the eye-piece of which: was: %6 7 3 18 30. 284 2eEaB! 94 Results of equal altitudes. Middle time 5h. 43m. 18s. * 5h. Sa. | 176035 Sh. 43m. Se 75 Eq. —14.008 3 .905 3.598 3.9925 . 3 ,720=a 4 .152—c. ‘ 7 .984=—2. — Res % : 3 .720—a. ee # 415 .856 ‘Mean’. 0 Ss « Sh. 43m. 38.964 at app. noom. Meantime . .. 0 14 21.397at do sChronbmeter too fast5 28 42.567at do Results of single altitudes. (Temperature 47°.) —_—< ings ieie 2h.35m. 58.25 |2h. 49m. de ; a 6 24.062/9 21 14 rey 37 co a Cromer 28 41.18315 28 40068|/5 28 33.478 — Ps gsomaer oe ee 3h 34m. 36s. 3h 50m 288.5 39.545/10 5 57.254|10 21 47 058 lsh eat, 3 28 40.7051 5 28 38 .746| 5 28 S 48 Chronometer too fast. Mean : Mean, (eting the oberon) Bh Bm sb at 9h. on 8 ee | i awe Times shies “App. alt. of of O's lower limb. Results i mean tie esr: ' 30” alten moan i i 30 1k 3 0 8 1 182 nea 10 1 19.733 seo 58 3 40 43.904 Cooecuivter to fat a A. Sh, 28m, 508.7: ( Pemperature 527.) 7 ul 8-50 Ie Wek 50 512 IV. 5 30 10.596 5h. a3, ( 616 i and 40 4th cheeratons) +4 oil pe A 37" 28 21 36 cs ie é a i a z 29 ais a S 28 96. 44 14 2 ‘Se t*t*=“i«é‘R | i ne AD 2 ari Sham a250 (rj) sam04250 snare = Sh, 43m. 31.000 . 13 .328 —18 .879 . 17.121 17.121 465 .996 95 Brought forward, Poe 65 .996 Se er. 43m. 16 .499 16 .499 : app. noon. Meantime . .. 0 14 = 11.230 a do. _Chronometer too fast, 5. 29 6.269 at de Results of single altitudes. (T ture 52°, Time ve greene 2h. ri is 18s. 333 2h. 28m. 8s.75 |2h. 43m. 558.75 Mean 8 13 .820/8 59 3.91919 14 51.366 Chronometer too fast,|5 29 4.613/5 99 4.831|5 29 4.384 bass wary Sin sean pnss 57m. eater 10m. $4 904)0 . 28m. 56s.250 59 §«54 476 ECE 99 0.38815 29 5.3465 29 1.774 Mean, 5h. 29m. 38.539 at 9h. 21m, 19s. Wabeisiry 21st. Times ager chronom. App. — e fe lower limb. * | . ae 3 21.37/11 a2 1793) 11 21 3.4610 | Mean, for the latitude of Mr. Sturgis’ s hotel, at which the pene T o the uniformly polite attention and assistance rendered me by gentleman, as well as others at that place, I feel penne cee = Tad. fe arr - 3 5. L at Art. VII. Report of the Committee appointed to continue the MretrroroLocgicaL OpsERvatTions, on the 21st of June, September, December and March. Accepted May 5, 1836. In presenting to the Institute the following tables, as worthy of publication in the pages of its Transactions, your committee believe that the following brief a account of | = eh oa “oe not be deemed inappreeane cece In the autumn of 1834, the South Miricaik iieraty ana Philosophical Institution appointed a meteorological commit- tee, who presented a report prepared by Sir John Herschel, embracing instructions for the observing and recording meteo- rological phenomena in South Africa,* from which the follow- ing is an extract: “ With a view to the better determining the laws of the di- urnal changes taking place in the atmosphere, and to the ob- taining a knowledge of the correspondence of its movements and affections over great regions of the earth’s surface, or even over the whole globe, the committee have resolved to recom- mend, that four days in each year should henceforth be espe- cially set apart by meteorologists in every part of the world, and devoted to a most scrupulous and accurate registry of the state of the barometer and thermometer, the direction and force of the wind, the quantity, character ne distribution of clouds, and every other particular of weather, tl t the whole 24 | hours of those days and the adjoining the days preceding and following. ‘The days they have been induced to fix ¢ on and recommend for these observations, are, the 21st of March, the 21st of June, the 21st of September, and the Zist of December, being those, or immediately ad- to those, of the equinoxes and solstices, in which the solar influence is either stationary, or in a state of most rapid variation. But — any one of those 21st oe ce on oe of this re’ was printed for ieute:tiseribnslinn tie ngls Henry Bea . R.S., and it has es oe smoothly piped abi hed in this city. A % 98 Sunday, then it will be understood that the observations are to be deferred till the next day, the 22nd. 'The observation at each station should commence at 6 o’clock A. M. of the ap- pointed days, and terminate at 6 o'clock P. M. of the days fol- lowing, according to the usual reckoning of time at the place. During this interval, the barometer and thermometer should be read off and registered hourly, or at all events, at intervals not more than two hours asunder, and the precise hour and minute of each reading should be especially noted. * For obvious reasons, however, the commencement of eve- ry hour should, if practicable, be chosen, and every such se- ries of observations should be accompanied by a notice of the means used to obtain the time, and, when practicable, by some observation of an astronomical nature, by which the time cap i be independently ascertained within a minute or two. As there is scarcely any class of observations by which meteorolo- gy can be more extensively and essentially promoted, it is hoped that not only at every section of importance in this cole _ ny, but over the whole world, and on board ships in every part of the ocean, individuals will be found to co-operate in this — inquiry.” a _sapecmarh 5 pear htmmaa teeta ata aaia Rata ere toh es Nese os War cma et TE Sr eT CN Pt, NL eR _ This recommendation was followed by Mr. Roberton, of : 4 the Royal Society of London, whose observations for the 22d of June, and 21st of September and December, 1835, are ré- . corded in the first three tables. They are copied from the London Atheneum. A committee of the Institute commen similar observations in December, and tables 4 and 5 contain the record of the 21st and 22d of December and March. For purpose of making this design generally known, these t@ bles were published in the Albany Daily Advertiser, and also on @ separate sheet, and sent to every person whom the col mittee knew to be engaged in meteorological observations — At the same time, John S. McCord, Esquire, Vice-President of the Natural History Society of Montreal, and a correspond- ing member of the Institute, at the request of an officer of the Hydrographical Corps, commenced similar observations in that city, the results of which, for December and March, are give? 99 in tables 6 and 7, which he has kindly sent to the Institute. The publication of our tables has induced Prof. Gill of Flush- ing, L. L, Prof. Smith of the Wesleyan University, at Middle- town, Conn., Prof. Locke of Cincinnati, Ohio, and Prof. Jos- lin of Biiscectady, to unite in making contemporaneous ob- servations, of which those by the three first named gentlemen are contained in tables 8, 9, and 10. Professor Gill's Pe tions have also been published in the Mathematical lany, Prof. Smith’s in the Middletown ‘Sentinel, and | Locke’s inthe Western Monthly Magazine. Profestior Teain’s 3 . ct le yet been published. fi a, aaa ed 2 - ‘The committee haye. appended to these tables a diagram, representing the variations of the barometer on the 21st and 22d of March, at Flushing, Middletown, Albany, Montreal and Cincinnati, in which the variation of each observation from the mean of the 37, is measured on the line corresponding to the hour, and these points united by straight lines. MATTHEW HENRY WEBSTER, _ PHILIP TEN EYCK, JOHN V. L. PRUYN, HORACE B. WEBSTER, ! Shou. The committee sclcneliie request all who may hereafter take similar observations, to communicate them to the Tnsti- tute, pe eas Number of the ansac- 100 TABLE L METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments of the Royal Same Romeraes House, or 37 successive hours, commenci M. of the 22d June, 1835, and epee 6 P. M. of “the ° lisaiag day. ( Greenwich mean time Lat. 51° 30’ 49” V.; Long. 0° 5’ 47" W. By Mr. J. D. Roperron, Assistant Secretary Royal Society. Fe lssl. ef | 83 18/8 lel .. aa E S aS zs = Wind. REMARKS. = & |ISo\Scle's oo a Se BS | 88 ja" a |ss > A. M.|29.865)6579/60° Lightly overcast; light wind. : -873/66 2/61 = = -865/66 5/62 a ¥e ) -853/67 7/65 4 is 1 -839/68 4/66 Fine; light clouds and wind. 1 -835/69 0|66 § a bd se 12 -810\69 7/69 a +e light brisk wind. P. M./29.796\69 8\71 se ti ‘“ -782\70 3\72 — mat -768\70 5\72 - Oh = ae oe -759\70 7\71 4 ‘ “ 5 -750\70 969 2 lighit'w wind. } -736/70 5/67 Fine; ‘light clouds and wind. F -730\69 8/65 § 3 724/69 2/68 Cloudy; he ) -716|67 9/61 § 6e “ “i 10 -707/67 5/60 §€ se be “ 1 -699 66 7\61 § - te “ce 12 -680 | 66 7|60 7}. se ‘ec “ A. M.|29.655/66 2/59 ¢ Overcast; be 2 -645|66 2159 - «“ “ [very high wind. 3 -625/66 2/59 by 22 A. M. heavy reine? 4 635/65 9157 ze continued rain and ) -641/66 6/55 “a } pe * 9154 : A 4 6156 Fine; 1 tel d ‘ “671166 a ‘ens ee an ata -681/69 2/62 te 7; ‘ 1 -693|70 464 “ce ee te 1 701 70 3/64 6}. “ec a6 ‘ce 5 12 -699|70 2164 4 “ tc “i 1 P. M./29.699 69 666 9 ‘ce “re “cc 3 :709'69 6165 9). ‘e “ e = -724'69 4/65 § ‘ és te sais oe os : 62 € se : li ny oie 6 a ol61 ¢ Ligh light clouds, Mean. /29.731168 3'63 9 _ eeeenenanaees sie logical Eomys. Height eter of the he Royal Society is described in Daniell’s Meteor, the sea, 95 feet. External eater oy Reo ye the presumed meant lev — i Height ‘of receiver a ‘ie eg 1s two feet higher than barometer cisterl- 101 TABLE II. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments of the are Society, ser ig House, 37 successive hours, commencing 6 A. M. of the 21st of September, 1835, caw sePige 6 P. M. of the following day. (Greenwich mean ) Lat. 51° 80 49” WV; sitios 0° 5' 47" W. By Mr. J. D. RoBERTON, Assi Ri y 1 Society. a REMARKS, —_ light wind. a ce light fog and w Overcast; very light orkin nal wink ligh t continued rain wind. c e . * . . . . . . . Sm we SSSS=eeaues SLESSSES . ‘ wind. . | Cloudy; light brisk wind. ar. ¥ high wi Overcast ; bi “ce ce 102 TABLE Ii. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments ‘és the Royal Society, er House, London, for 37 successi on. 0 Trocenbic ( Greenwich mean tim Lat. 51° 30 49” N.; Long. 0° 8’ 47” W. By Mr. J. D. Roperton, Assistant Secretary Royal Society. A. M. of the ours, commencing 1835, and 1 ending 6 P.M. of the following £6 | $3 Be | 38/8 .fa. 3 2. ft el eae S@ | &3 }$5/8 s/s | Wind. REMARKS, Bs [4% (ela (8 6 A. M./29.934/36°3/32°7|....| NW | Cloudy; light wind. rs 95: 3/32 7|...-| W var. us 8 . 2132 8i...-| NE af og 9 F 2/32 5|....| NE ne as 10 * 3/32 6)....| N ~ < il -998/36 3/32 8]....| N 12 -994/36 0/33 4|....| NW iy dat light wind. 1 P. M.|29. 0/33 O} ... and cloudless ; light brisk wind. 2 994 33 2....| NE Vv: 3 S 3/32 6]....| NE ts t 5 “Oz7ls¢ 0130 T..| NE. | Fine; light clouds; light . 0 ses i ; i it clouds ; i t wind. 6 -035/36 2/30 3}....| NE m rae 7 033/35 9}29 4 8 045/35 8/29 ne + 9 -065/35 7|29 * as 10 -080/35 6'29 Fine and clear ; light brisk wind. 11 -087/35 6/29 rs “ je -092)35 5/29 af hy 1 A. M.|30.099)35 6/28 as se 2 -099/35 5|28 fe ah 3 103/35 4|27 s “e 4 -117/35 3/27 ” 5 shee. 22d -Gleves|- odds es SS +4 6 0 h94194-9)|27 Gio. oe] oo cé ces . fe 7 ~154)34 8 27 wees - NE 34 és 8 178/34 7|27 7|....| NE re i 9 198/34 6/28 8]....| NW var. a 7 10 216/34 7/29 9]....3 NE light fog and wind. il 231/34 7/31 9]....} NW Fine; light clouds, with light brisk wind 12 -233/34 7/33 5]....| NW 1 P. M./30.239/34 8\35 2] ...| NW s 48 2 -247\35 0/36 2|....| NE var. 3 -263/35 2/36 3}....] ENE Fine and clear; ‘Tight brisk wind, 4 °287|30 5/35 2j....] N 48 te 5 299/35 4/34 0}....] NE ¢ se 6 311/35 6/32 8)....) NE aes is 103 TABLE IV. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS et at oe - eviespemd of the Albany om sar —— Acade- y, for successive hours, commencing 6 A. M. of the 21st of, ante geen and barge, 6 P. = sao the Ses day. 2 73° se a Gomeaia of the ve cai EE a Sh "a+ B38 a2 gs/28| 3 REMARKS. eo = . 2 o & : aS a |e | & >A. M. 50 [33° «| SW Overcast ; thick clouds ; wind very lig’t } ano xe cl. break. & mov. N. fad { : 4 ce “ec ; * “ 1 25 7 ce ‘se “ee 1 3 ‘* | Fog rising; clouds moving NE = “‘ 1 : i Fine; bt it cirrus clouds; os P. M. i ine moving E; ‘ € > ‘ec ee “ec : ; ee “ec cé ce ‘é ] d be ‘ 74 : ‘“ Suk: ie ace «NE; “ ; a“ “cc “é F - ae fog; se “sé sé 50 iS ine: al Hosta “ 10 «| "hick fog «“ 1 ‘é “ 12 ad 4 A. M. ‘¢ | Fine; “tight stratus clouds inhor. ‘‘ 2 cc “ce ac ce ae 3 os ie cloudless ; ee 4 5 “ec “cc “ce 7 1 “cc “cc “é 5 D - of ttle clouds in horizon; ‘“ é 3 75, NE ‘* fog over river; 6 24 50 fe ‘mot. cir.-str. cl. mov. NE; ‘“ ola? 50 Me sg «Tigh cl uds E; “ 10 27 t oO “a : 1 29 50| NNW “ 1 ) 31 oe ce “cc iid “cc “ee ae “a Ey e. tof fee ear “ “ 3 29 pe ie 4 é 127 25) fe “thin mov. ; i 5 -812,25 24 9 Cloudy; cir. str. &cir. cum, cl.; “ j 81623 50}24 50:19 50) * Slightly overcast. “ Mean. 29.734)30°23 a 1°73) ‘The barometer i nO one of Pool’s Inarine barometers; 044 has been added as the for capi rity, in Daniell’s Meteorological Essays have been employed. " There is no adjustment the lewhs) nor is the capacity of oe cistern known.* The the according to Fahrenheit, and were made by Kendall. a cee ee ined b = Se ter, 3 feet higher than barome' * This barometer was compared with that used in March, gt necalhsoag 37 observations was found to_be 00,165 inches less than that of Pike’s barometer. 104 TABLE V. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Mods at the Apartments of the Albany Institute, A ihesy oA cade- y, for 37 successive hours, c M. of the 21st oe "Murch, 1836, and ending 6 P. M. a the he following day. Lat. 42° 39' 3” WN. 2 By a Committee of the Institute. gE 4 es : it § HB ES /So/ ES] 1 sg REMARKS. go |£E |) se] sf] &] & Bs |mo l(a ig | Al & 6 A. M. cates 1 0° |WNW Clear; wind very slight. 7 15 15 6 ae ‘¢ fog ov 8 19 50)19 9 WwW at a. ia 8 hae wind a - breeze. 9 24 L Ss * fleecy cl. mov. from 10 -022/32 50/31 1 SSW | Overcast; 11 oe ee a jg 41 ; 7 “ce é “sé 1P. M. 42 3 | Light cir, cum. & cir. stra. cl.‘ 9 930/42 50/39 ee “ec “ce <<“ 3 39 |37 S | Overcast; «“ 4 37 50\36 25 td bis - 5 “ce ae “ec 6 50) “cc “ “ 7 6é “e “ce 8 ce se ee 9 ce “cc “ec 10 5 sc “ ‘c ll “ “ss “ce 1 e 7; . if é 1AM. “ q Seer: he : 744\32 25/33 50 a a “ “ee ‘ . é ; eae 50 = ‘a cl. assum. stra. form; m 5 sé ce “ce 6 c a“ ; . “ce aa : slight flurry of snow; ue 8 e Snowing; “ 9 L SW “3 “e 10 50 “cc “ “ ll s ) NE “a “ 12 6 30 6 ae “ 1 P. M.'29.606/39 50 “ se te 594/40 | ENE 6 se 3 .587/43 |e ‘ “ 4 "607|39 [NE | « te 5 -603/36 50 50) ‘6 ‘é “ec 6 572133 ) | ‘“ 46 “ Mean. 29.792)34°79|33°58\22°67 Amount of snow melted and measured ; in rain guage, 0.19 inches. These hoi as were made with one of Pike’ s (N. Y.) barometers, which is a pc! means of an ivory float; the correction for capillarity is .044- ter is on the brass plate, near the vacuum chamber, In red ste shed th height of the col to 32°, the tabl ay i umn to the table gi in Daniell’s Meteorologi- cal Essays has been followed. The external ghahoenecer ta Ey Kendell, and cem e sule hygrometer of Pouillet. Position of instruments ead i Time ascertained at noon, on the 19th, by a toabadt ine merce 105 TABLE VI. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Montreal, L. C., for 37 successive hours, commen A. M. of 21st December, 1835, and ending 6 P. M. of the es lowing day. Lat. 45° 30’ N:; Long. 73° 22 W. By Joun S. McCorp, Esq., V. P. Natural History Society, Montreal. zs C8 ee ees 3 £3 | ge |e] 2s] 28 |Z REMARKS rap =| a: 3 2| s=| 8 (8 é P| < 3 3 Sa] KH] -B Y 5 Bo | <_ |B |A° ie “tabanh 6 A. M.|29.796/53° 95 | SSW Clouds breaking; clear. from W; stars P z ).798/53 oS shining bright. 8 ).806/53 ao 9 ~820/53 wars F 10 . Bright sunshine. zs te 12 SW Clear ; not a cloud above the horizon. 1P.M SSW. mr 2 “ee ce “¢ s “ee se ce 4 3 SW “ce ce 5 3 iad “ce “ec 6 3 ee Clear; wind freshening. 7 “se ‘« stars very bright. 8 ae “é “cc 9 zi “ee is3 10 5 “ec sé 4e ll 5 iz4 “se “é 12 5 ce ec << 1 ‘ sé 74 cc 2 “a ce cs “ec sé : 25 ie te “cc 5 ce “ee “e 6 Ee ee Fine morn.; sky clear; afew light cl. E. ho. ce ce 7 bas : 9 A pa light sloiade iting. 10 #¢ Cloudy; wind high. ll ele © cam. ver the w 1 ee 2 Wwsw 4 = 3 ee cid ce ee é oe : 5 “cc He “ee 6 “ce “ee ée Mean. 129.781156 12|27°27 Bar. corrected for cistern, capillarity, and | |_| reduced to 32° Fahrenheit, 29.796. e observations are made with one of Newman’s (London) iron eistern mountain barom etere—(Nett point, 29.632; capillarity, .048; capacity, 1-59; temp. ot)) whose is 30 feet above St. "Lawtehon rmometers, ‘by Newman, and Jones, (Charing-Cros London, )—care being taken in the position of the severa ral instruments e appt. height ot mercury in brome x being read ing the f — of the wind, I have used the eseatoia vege soles 5 eae calm; 1, a peg eran to blow the wake from _— owes! pia ‘oo: “6. at an an- gle — 3, horizontally; 4, a gale. uated to Fahrenheit’s B 106 TABLE VII. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Montreal, L. C., for 37 successive hours, commencing 6 A. M. of 21st March, 1836, and ending 6 P. M. of the fol- lowing day. Lat. 45° 30’ V.; Long. 73° 227 W. By Joun S. McCorp, Esq., V. P. Natural History Society, Montreal. ea | ac =z se / S213 ../2.| 8s lz 22 |28/48] 25) 3-8 lo REMARKS. 22 | 2s | ge) gel BE (8 Bs [eela ia [ae is 6 A. M. Cloudy. 4 “ce . Clearing. 10 Cloudy; stratus. 11 “e 12 oe 1P.M. de 2 ce 3 ce 4 “ce 5 ‘“ 6 “ce s “oe 8 ce 9 ce 410 ee ll “ce 12 ‘cc 1 & M ‘ec mn 2 Clearing. : Bright star light. 5 Clouds athering in E. 6 g g in ; Brig ht; upper current 83, lower, E. 8 tc cr 9 ‘ se 10 “se cc - Light snow. 1P.M Sleet, 4 Light snow. rz4 4 “ec 5 te 6 | 0} Cloudy. Mean.}29.777,58°51 ee Bar. corrected for c istern, capillarity, and | reduced to 32° Fahrenheit, 29.784, 107 TABLE VIII. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Wesleyan wens Par rie (Conn.) for 37 successive hours, commencin 1836, and ending 6 P. M. of Ag following d Lat, 41° 34’ 43” M; Long. 72° 39’ W. M. of - 21st of March, ay. The hours of observa. Attached Ther. Barometer REMARKS. ¢ = te a = oo nie | lI ms wo — er NE a = S&S Oe an eoallention’ Gr S SESEs 23s SSss SNN8N seueERE ah s g FESSSSaunrsse 8 lodlantl and AA én ak Cloudless ; wind scarcely perceptible. whe “ OIL’ 6% eeeeee re rs tL ‘oqqista Ajareq uns | 4sva10AQ | L0G 08 & M 088" ” GPS | 981°6s |°°°8) OE 16 PF ot *M ULsnquiu !qg urynung | cz | oF & MSM | 007° M ; | bHT°'6S | «6B | CTE oF 6 *S oy] 01 Aq Sutssed snqunu y | ez% Geer ” oot’ MS Lb | 9ST'6% |******| Gob bE 8 "M Woy snes 01 pojddeg Tce 08 & ” 020° tS} OF | O16°6s Beh Xo L *M wo Ayprd] *uoziioy | Idoeoxe ‘reaTD | OPS a aie ” ¢60°0 as 6& | O18°66 |? oases 9% 9 “BI ‘AOU! 2 *10Y Gf 9X9 [[B "BuLI0A0d *vys “110 porddeq | *** o M Oe |. 268 | 6IS°6S [oR ee 9% |N'VS “wi013 |OaspT Ul {9 spnoyo JO|"PUIM JO |*pUIM JO| “IOUT, |pjoo01100}*yur0d | *qynq | ‘A0U,.L ‘SMUVNAY -AW pores “Buy| esino) |ySueyg| esinoD |peyoeny] -womwg | meg | 3@A\ |PIBAINO| “NOH ‘ory ‘e8aTToR TBOIpe Jossaord “(I “WW “AMT NHor Ag ‘AA LG oF 8 “SU0T A" 9 068 T ‘fiop burmonof ayr fo ‘Tv “dq 490]9,0 9 10 burpua pun ‘gear ‘young fo r81¢ oy) fo “py “FH 42012,0 G 1M Huysuamwoo ‘sinoy aarssooons gg sof ‘youMourD 1 epHyy SNOLLVAUASHO TVOIDO'TONOMLANW ‘xX WAV 111 ‘syStu oy) YSnory) sUOTIBAIOSgO OY SuTMUTIUOO Joy ‘11 PUL Pleyyory, 810}90¢] ‘spuory Aur 0} suonesiqqo Jopun Wie] + “spuodes 119} SBA AjI00]0A IeMSue oy ) OUI Ol.f, ‘SUTATOSSIP UsyO pte a1uUyapuT oe Spnofo oy] JO seBpe oy asnvoaq ‘Apoexe Araa you ‘yItuez oy} passed Aoys SB UOYe} SBAi spnozo oyt fo AjOojoA IvfnsuL oy, ‘sIsNs 18a U0dgs oY) pexieU pus ‘UOHUEAUT MMO AI Jo “UoUINAIsUT SUTIO}SIHOI-FJOs B st Jojoulouroue ay, “UE oy} YSnomp sorppo Ut ATprim mous oy) Bury ‘sisn3 ueppns Buoys ut IM Ol], ‘SoyNUIU MOJ B UBY} OIOUL IOF puns oy} Uo}STOUL Jo WoITY MA 0} IUOTOUJNS JOU ING ‘MoUs BIT B poroN yo spno] a10U OY,L, “Soinutur AreM3 JO ueEYy sof oroydstwY woz vB ISOTUTR PIOFe 0} sb poyeredas IBF OS Salt] JaI0 v8 ‘aTjUed EY Ur epeys Joyrep vB Aq poyieuT Buraq pnojo yous “ouNstp pues peyomep Apuaprao TNs yng ‘Ays oTOAA OT) aMosgo 0} SB JQUUBUL B TNS UI Joyo Yows uodN popmoso soulaWOs “Ysam oy Woy Ayprder Surssed Spnop? snquitu jo uotssodons B SLM Oto, *wUoMOUOYd wosrun Ayjoid Aq poyseul SBM suory q QB Ot} UT pepnpoUur oll} OYT, “OANYSIOU OULONXe 0} SsoUAIP OUleNIxe Woy ‘soo1Zap pUBSNOY) GUO OUT PEPLAIP S{ IoJOWOISAY OY} JO [BOS OUT, “a[’OS 8,PUTT 0} Surproooe JojvM Jo YOUT UL Jo [BULIZeP oy) UT PoywUINSE st purm oq} Jo [Sues oy Jo uUMIoo OUT, a 799} PL°CEL FOAL OO OY) JO YIwUL 19} ~BM MOT OAOGE Ja}aMOIEG OUI Jo UaSI9 OY) Jo IyZI0qy | &°8EG L285" 6 best. “papmoso ynq “JounsIP spnoig | Z9T | ST AN | GOI’ ” OF | Oh" 6% 9 "N domoy ‘44 wuNyeys Joddq | oft ST N er? ” FS | 99F"6s ¢ ” PPL OF MN PSG" ” 6¢ | 0SF°6e iv *spnoyo SurAyq | cet | OF ” £06" | MN b9 | Shr" Ge & "ueyouq spnojg | ECT | OF T ” cot’ | AN b9 | CIb°6G & ” 9LT 3 ” cor" ” 8 | S&h' 6s ‘Wdt i | ost | 08s M | ict | M 19 | GbE" 6% sr ” 681 4 ” 1sT° ” £9 | I8h*6% IL “MOUS OTT BpuB £0% é ” £0" ” C9 | PER GS OL ” COG ? ” PSG" MNM GbE | S6R' 6s 6 “MOUS aT Bg, rata ; ” £08" MN ¢ &¢ | 928° 6% 8 *mous jo soponied Maye, C0 4 MNM | FOL’ | MNM | ¢ TS | peg"6e £ ‘oTIU[ B Burmous ‘Apnoig | FIZ ; ” SCT* ” TS | SG" 6% Pe “uayorq spno[g | £8% ner M GLO" MN €S | 166°6% S$ *spnop you’ | 986 | ***" ” bor’ ” oS | G86" 6G b ‘opat[ B Burmoug | 16s | **** » | SOT 0 9¢ | 098° 6% £ ‘Apnolg | Ps bose ” POT’ ” co | G8I°6s & 112 TABLE XI. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the peewelt of the Royal =aetae Somerset — n, for uccessive hours, commenci the 21st of ‘March, 1836, cat ending 6 P. M. of the jolicwtag day. Greenwi me. ) Lat. 51° 30’ 49” WV; Long. 0° 5° 47" W. By Mr. J. D. Roperton, Assistant Secretary Royal Society. ze BT by £5 ee | 82 (Sete cle dia. 4.8 £2 (3/8 Sts S| Wind REMARKS. 25 | 28 |BR|RR (Ss Bo | ae a ea 6 A. M. = 6) Pee Overcast; light wind. 7 mo tite. Qisccat: SW af a 8 124|53 7/47 2).... sé $e vi 9 0113/53 7/48 2).... = be =~ 10 -102)54 0/49 2)... Ss ae < ll x 50 | SSW so oe 12 -071/55 3/51 7|....) SW “3 = 1 P. M.|30.05 cea SE es eg 2 " 53 d =e iad “ce “ce 3 -017 Delica. & = cg 4 ~ OF Ul eed <=. fo “i wie 5 = 52. 3)....) SW ra ~ 6 x Le ee ° ~ - 7 A 50 eo al “ec [73 £6 8 A 50 ‘cae ce (74 74 9 < 50 ns “ 10 -976 50 $e ‘ il -968 50 $e “ 12 961 49 = id 1 A. M.}29.946)54 4/49 g ‘ 2 -944|54 3/49 bd ‘“ 3 929 48 “ & 4 .924/54 0/48 - “ 5 -917/53 8/48 6].... Ss bie “ 6 -907|53 6/48 6}....) Cloudy; be 7 22 49 4)....) 8S ns ne 8 50 ew ce ee ée 9 2/50 8}... " very light rain and wind 10 -932/55 4/51 sesh S Var, ; ee ” ll 51 : por ce “é “é ee 1 -913/56 5/52 2|....1 SW 4 se se 1P.M. ud 51 f “intr. “ec 6é “ee sé 2 . gy: | See Ss sé a3 “cc 3 87. 51 by aus “sc 4é “és sc 4 865 eee & se bi ts 5 -861 J Bie 7 ae aad + a 6 ).870|55 1/51 2|.027)SW var.} Overcast; light wind. Mean. !29.975'55°0'50°5} . SAHARA RSANIGIES CRON Ct AIEEE TE ft mowed of its proper oe whieh should be “hen re slo TE in ae, is inserted able 113 Rix. VIII. Annuat Appress, delivered before the Insti- tute, April 19, 1836, by Danrex D. Banwie, LL.D. GENTLEMEN OF THE INSTITUTE, The occasion of the Annual Address before the Institute, is a proper one for reviewing the past and for anticipating the fu- ture. The course of remark which I propose to myself at this time, however, will not allow me to dwell on the spent labours of this learned body. The results of those labours are on re- cord. ‘They are incorporate with the period. They are al- ready of the substance of that imperishable history—the most important of all—the history of the human mind. The dis- advantages under which they have been achieved, and the li- mited means enjoyed, will not be forgotten; and the Institute may point to what has been accomplished, not merely without reproach, but with just and honest pride. A library has been formed, a museum has been established, and the transactions of the society have been published. These transactions will show with what spirit its members have entered a wide field of enterprize. It-will be found that they have not been dis- posed to content themselves even with the full possession of the paternal territories, the ample inheritances of knowledge. Al- ready, in their brief time, have successful incursions been made into distant provinces; sometimes to explore regions often visit- ed but little understood; sometimes penetrating to higher and almost unattempted latitudes; and always bringing back con- tributions which have added actual riches to the general trea- sury of science and learning. In the mean time, the society, looking steadily forward, has applied itself faithfully, in the collection of books, specimens and apparatus, to the enlarge- ment and supply of its depot of provision and materiel for the of deeper study and of more extended discovery. But while it would not be unbecoming in me, as a recent member of the Institute, and one who has contributed nothing to its prosperity, to speak of what it has done in terms of high commendation, and make the past the theme of my discourse, yet I shall not indulge in so grateful an employment. My c 114 view of the position which I have here the honor to occupy, leads me to adopt a different course. I shall seek to discharge this duty with special reference to the practical advantages which ought to result from the exercise. And I propose, there- fore, to ask the attention of my fellow members to the consi- deration of topics which may tend, in the result of their dis- cussion, to shew the true relation in which this and all our in- stitutions of learning stand to the community in which they exist; to reveal the essential connection of these institutions with each other; and to suggest the way in which their mu- tual means and resources must be enlarged, and how their in- dividual and united action may be rendered more comprehen- sive and more effective, and adequate to the mighty purpose they are designed to accomplish. In the preamble to its charter of incorporation, the object of the Institute is declared. It was organized “ for the promotion of science and literature.” Here were individuals, only a handful, who were known to be devoted to the extension of the kingdom of human knowledge, and a leading design un- doubtedly was, to enable them to unite their efforts, and to fur- nish and surround themselves, as far as possible, with the needed and indispensable aids to profound study and research. It was proposed that here, at the capital of this State, an in- stitution should be located, which should take an active, and it might be, an efficient part, in those great labours which else- where the learned associations of our own and other countries were prosecuting. tific arrangements in Zoology. Ray acted on a suggestion dropped by Aristotle nineteen centuries before; Linnzus im- proved upon Ray, and Cuvier has rivalled Linneus. Here is the outline, and the filling up would be almost equally brief. And then it is to be noted, that it is not merely that science 115 has engaged the labours of but few persons, but that all great discovery, all brilliant result, all actual advance, has been the product of their spontaneous and unputchased zeal. In mo- dern times, and since the natural sciences have been cultiva- ted by the methods of true philosophy, profound investigation and discovery have been pursued and wrought out in a great degree by individuals attached to learned institutions;* these institutions having, for the most part, one of these two objects in view; either directly the cultivation of learning by the mem- bers as a substantive business, and the publication of the re- sults of their labors, in the manner of the Royal Society of England, or their design has been instruction to resident scho- lars, as in the colleges and universities in Europe and in our own country. Sometimes, however, both objects have been united, if not at the beginning, in the progress of their ex- istence, as in the instance of the academies at Paris and Berlin. But attached or not, to learned associations, deep and suc- cessful study has always resulted from the natural and resist- less promptings of individual mind, impelling to severe and al- most superhuman effort, in a sphere quite above any assumed or assigned range of private or professorial duty. It has been effort which princes have not been rich enough to purchase, and which principalities and powers have not been able to re- press. Let gentlemen pass the field in review before the mind, and they will satisfy themselves that this remark is of almost universal truth and application. See how it has been with Astronomy. Copernicus was a Doctor of Medicine at Cracow, and went into voluntary exile in Italy for many years, becoming a student at Bologna and a professor at Rome, that he might prepare himself to bring out his system. Kepler was the recipient of imperial favors, in the form of appointments to professorships, but war and bi- gotry cheated him of his salaries, and he was forced to study and practise physic for his livelihood, while actually engaged in prescribing laws for the courses of the planets. And not to * It is true, also, as remarked by Dr. Smith, that the greater part of the eminent men of letters, both of Greece and Rome, appear to have been either public or private teachers; generally either of philosophy or of rhetoric. Se: i 116 mention other names in this department, Newton had formed a distinct conception of his three great discoveries while a stu- dent and fellow of Trinity College. Herschel, it may be add- ed, had constructed the reflector with which he discovered a new primary planet, before he relinquished his engagements as a music master. And as we find it in Astronomy, so it has been throughout the circle. And here it is desirable to understand, how much credit is due to the public—+o political communities and to go- vernments—for the actual advance which at any time has been made in science. Undoubtedly, governments have done some- thing for the preservation of knowledge, and something for diffusing it in some degree, greater or less. ‘These are the pur- poses for which public schools, colleges and universities have been established.* The primary object in all these is instruc- tion—instruction of course in what is known; and it is ex- pected, therefore, in the higher institutions, that those who conduct them shall possess themselves of all learning, up to its highest state of advancement at the period, that they may be able to impart it. The tendency unquestionably is, to keep the learning of the age from absolute retrogression. But whatever more shall be accomplished, is expected, if at all, to come of individual enterprize, acting too often under the dou- ble discouragement of inadequate support and of oppressive exactions. It is true, however, that in some countries, their educational systems have been arranged under state authority and endowment, with a distinct view to enlarge, as well as maintain, the boundaries of knowledge. And yet, on the whole, this has been a most neglected in- terest in the hand of governments. It was for this very rea- son, that learned men, seeing the necessity of making some effectual provision for it, at a very early day set themselves to devise that plan, which consists in the establishment of volun- tary associations, like this I am now addressing, for the pur- * But by far the greater part of all such establishments, wherever situated, were originally founded and endowed by individuals, thou ough subsequently adopted and patronized by the governments. The English university colleges originated im this way. 117 pose, not merely of preserving, but of sims science and literature. These societies were known in ancient times, and were es- tablished first after the revival of letters in Italy, under the name of Academies. Upwards of five hundred of them ex- isted in the Italian territories alone. ‘The example was fol- lowed, sooner or later, in every — of tina i and has been imitated in our own country. Of these institutions, or at least of certain favorite ones, it has been the fashion for ecclesiastical and political dignitaries to become the patrons. The academy at Alexandria was pa- tronized by the Ptolemies. The Arab caliphs patronized aca- demies both in the west and in the east. The academies of Italy were patronized by her merchant kings. ‘The princes of Germany have not failed to afford a like condescending countenance and support. Even Russia has her academies, and some of the most extensive and magnificent which exist, in like manner under imperial sufferance and protection. Now it must be admitted that these associations, as well as the educational foundations, which have occupied ground with this sort of southern aspect, though sometimes in danger of being dazzled or scorched from a too direct and near exposure to a gorgeous and burning sunshine, on the whole have de- rived advantages from their position, which have been essen- tial to the success and glory that have attended their career. It has happened generally, that kings have taken care to open reservolln: meee the throne, into which a large portion of the ft tive kingdoms has been uniform- ly eer And so it has been found, from motives almost as various as the instances, that they have been induced to let out some streams of royal charity in the direction of these in- stitutions, which have thence felt at once the benefit and the burthen of their patronizing and ostentatious munificence. But while contemplating the golden showers that have been shed on such establishments from these high latitudes, we must not forget the fertilizing effect of those copious irrigations which have been supplied to them from sources of i and private bounty, nor the living influence of those - _perpetu- 118 al dews that always fall on them from surrounding atmo- spheres, such as are never overcharged but never dry. Let the gauge be accurately taken, and it will assuredly appear, that the crowning and superior measure of support in these cases, on the whole, has come of the largesses of subjects, not of kings. : _ It has been the pleasure of sovereigns that certain magnifi- cent establishments of a literary and scientific character, ex- isting in the name and under the control of royalty, should adorn the capitals of their empires; and in furtherance of this object they have sometimes indulged in princely profusion. And yet it is remarkable that scarcely an instance can be found where one of these establishments has originated with the titular head of a government, or has been sustained by its authority and means, at least without the aid of large indi- vidual contributions, or of gross public robberies. . 'The impe- rial library now at St. Petersburgh, containing 400,000 vo- lumes, set out with a capital of 200,000 volumes, which had been collected at the private cost of an ecclesiastic in Poland. Zaluski in his life time, had generously opened his library to the public, and at his death the government seized it as its own, to the exclusion of all claims on the part of his lawful heirs. The royal academy of sciences at Paris did not receive the sanction of the king for more than thirty years after it had been founded by Colbert. The king’s library at the same place received a supply of 100,000 volumes at one time, the property of French subjects, wrested from them on the sup- pression of monastic houses. 'The museum of natural history at the Garden of Plants, the most extensive in the world, Owes its existence to the solicitations and zeal of two physi- sicians of Louis XIII. Sir Robert Cotton laid the foundation of the British Museum, by the gift of an invaluable private collection. The celebrated royal society of London was wholly a private association for many years, and even now, since its incorporation and adoption. by the government, each mem- ber pays an admission fee of eight guineas, and an annual contribution of four guineas, to sustain it. 119 The simple truth is, that the burthen of the pecuniary sup- plies indispensable to the promotion of learning, has fallen, in an oppressive degree, on that very class of persons, few in number and little able to bear it, who have been also entirely relied on to sustain the necessary labors of study and investi- gation. Beyond this narrow circle, this great interest has de- pended very much on individual charity, while governments, with some notable exceptions, have either neglected it, or con- tributed with a reluctant and sparing hand to its support. It is painful to be obliged to add, that in no enlightened country has so little been done for the cause under public authority, as in our own. It is time, however, that the truth on this sub- ject should be boldly spoken; and, for one, I am fully resolved that no false pride of country shall prevent me from giving it distinct and emphatic utterance. Of the necessity of endowment from some quarter, to sus- tain and encourage learning, not only in its higher walks, but in nearly all its departments, it seems to me that no one who will cast an eye over the tract of its history can entertain a doubt. It never would have been doubted, even perhaps by Adam Smith, but for the abuses which have sometimes grown out of particular systems. The evils which belonged to cer- tain modes of encouragement, have been imputed to encou- ragement itself. One thing is at least indisputable. Learning has in fact been sustained throughout the world by endow- ment; and I hold it idle to pretend that the educational and scientific institutions of any country ever have been, or could be ‘permanently without it. ‘It must be borne in mind, at ici dagres in which learning every where fails to sustain itself, it is sustained by endowment; and it is better that we should accustom ourselves to the use of the term in this sense. In every conceivable shape in which aid comes to an educational or literary establishment, beyond what it re- ceives in direct return for services rendered, it is actual, benefi- cial endowment. If an institution be possessed of an ancient territorial estate, as the corporations of Oxford and Cam- bridge; if its members receive a stated salary from the govern- ment, as those of the French Institute; if bequests or dona- 120 tions be made to it, in money, books, apparatus, models or “a cimens; if funds are raised for it, whether for tempo permanent uses, by voluntary subscriptions, by lottery, or, as in the case of the Albany Academy, by appropriations from a city corporation—all this, be the amount in any given case great or small, is endowment; and a little reflection will satis- fy every one how universal is the practice of endowment for literary uses, as well in our own country as in every other. It is not therefore a question whether learning shall exist with or without endowment. It will exist with it, or not at all. It was the error of a great political economist to suppose that the doctrine of demand and supply was applicable to all the dealings in knowledge, as it was to the trade in bread stuffs and cotton fabrics. Before any such conclusion was drawn, it should have been made to appear that there was some analogy between the cases. If there was in the human mind a natural appetency for knowledge, like that which ex- ists in every man to supply his animal wants and to make ~ gain, a faculty which would educate itself and pursue its end by the intelligent use of the most appropriate means, then in- deed it might be concluded that it were better to treat learning like merchandize, and let it alone. But while it is fairly dis- putable that any such distinct affection as a desire of know- ledge exists; while it cannot be shown that the mind feels any original impulsion after knowledge, beyond what is observable in the natural constitution of the particular powers fitted for acquiring it, and which, like all the active faculties, are en- larged and gratified by exercise, and are dormant without it; and while it is certain that the ignorant and uninstructed can not comprehend the higher uses or the true pleasures of know- ledge, any more than the congenital blind can understand colors, and are therefore not likely to be drawn into the pur- suit of it by any discovered charms in the subject itself, what chance would there be, let me ask, for learning, if the cultiva- tion of it must be left to be regulated only by the natural and spontaneous demand? It should be enough to know, that no system of education, for any grade or rank in life, in any age or land, has ever yet sustained itself, in the way in which a ak sf he ae spe a : = a 1 mechanical trade, or a branch in merchandize in the hands of an individual or a company, sustains itself. And the same thing is true of all plans for the promotion of learning, as by voluntary associations and otherwise. There is always a lack of willing customers. The necessity of keeping up a large supply, and ina manner forcing the commodity on the public, is understood only by a comparatively small number, while the mass, for whom the benefit is directly intended, and who, as a body, are abundantly able to pay the cost of production, cannot comprehend their need of it, and refuse to give an equivalent for its value. As I have said, therefore, the question is not, whether en- dowment shall or shall not be employed. _In some shape, it must be acknowledged to be indispensable to the preservation of learning. Nothing effective can be done without it. All those mighty interests which are connected with the progress of mental illumination, are absolutely dependent on it. Among an enlightened audience, and on an occasion like the present, I shall assume that not one individual can be found who would be willing to commit the interests of learning and education in this country solely to the support which they would derive from a spontaneous demand for their benefits, accompanied by a voluntary disposition to render a full and just equivalent for the value received. The question then which presents itself, and a grave and important one it is, is this; what shall be the mode or system of endowment adopted in our country for the preservation and advancement of senereing and sees univer- sal instruction of the people? ~ It will be observed that I speak of niigltg a mode, as if up to the present time, no established system whatever had ex- isted; and such I hold to be nearly the fact. I cannot call that a digested system, which abandons the most considerable of the subject to chance or charity; which concerns it- self with plans for cherishing certain favorite extremities, while the heart is ready to stop for lack of proper stimulus and vital heat. It will be observed also, that I speak of endow- ment, not as needed alone for popular education, or to sustain our higher seminaries, but as equally necessary to support our D 122 academic and learned associations. As connected with en- dowment, I desire to be understood as regarding learning un- der the notion of an entire system, closely related in all its parts, bringing its utmost extremities together, and uniting the very alphabet of knowledge with the sublimest speculations of rie then at the whole subject in this view, it remains to inquire, whether we are to have a rational and systematic plan of endowment for the support of learning in this coun- try—for there is only one general mode by which such sup- port can be rendered permanent and effective—or whether we are to go on in the old way, committing the whole cause to the hazard of uncertain supplies, from unstead y and precarious sources; gleaning a little in this quarter and a little in that ; resorting to financial schemes, always inadequate, sometimes founded in cheatery and trick, and sometimes in flagrant im- morality; and appealing not seldom to motives and passions which all parties are, or ought to be, ashamed to avow? With us, I mean in the United States, our educational and literary system may be described in general terms, as consist- ing of primary schools, of academies or grammar schools, of colleges or classical and scientific schools, of schools for pro- fessional education, and of associations designed for the pro- motion of learning generally or for the cultivation of particu- lar branches. Such, in brief, is our system; and we shall soon see whether this system, in all its parts, is what it ought to be—and whether learning is receiving with us that encou- ragement and support which its importance demands? To begin with our common schools. These are endowed, as they should be, in several of the States, by the State go- vernment. ‘The plan in our own State is justly regarded with admiration. In many respects it is admirably devised, and so long as nothing better can be accomplished, it ought to be strenuously supported. But we have only to compare what is actually done in the work of primary instruction with what should be done, and must be done, if we would elevate the character of our people and save the country, to discover that the present endowment is wholly inadequate to the object. 123 Popular education is in no degree what it ought to be. It is absolutely necessary that the standard should be raised, or we are not an educated people. And how is this to be done? Not certainly with our present modes of instruction, and un- der the present race of common school teachers. And how are better teachers and better instruction to be supplied? Not certainly for any compensation which is now afforded. ‘The pay of teachers is obtained from three principal sources; from the State; from the property of the towns by taxation, which is of two kinds, compulsory and voluntary; arid from tuition fees. 'The impulse to this financial scheme is given by the State, which sets the example of offering to a district about the average sum of ten dollars towards an annual compensa- tion for the services of a school-master. With ten or twenty dollars more, as the case may be, raised by taxation, the school- master is provided with his outfit. This he can depend upon, and if he gets any thing more, it will be just in proportion to ~ the spontaneous demand which may exist for his wares; a de- mand which is never active when the articles are of prime quality, but which must be dreadfully heavy when they are known to be nearly worthless. Now, that common schools should be well taught, you must have competent teachers; and as these cannot be found, it has been proposed to create eh: An excellent plan to this ef- fect is now in —— under the patronage of the State. Hight selected academies have a department in each for the instruction of a few teachers. 'To supply the actual demand on the pr there should be one hundred acade- mies, with one hundred pupils in each, destined for this em- ployment. But this apart. It concerns us more now to in- quire, how are the services of these qualified teachers to be se- cured for common schools, and how paid for? If thoroughly in the range of studies prescribed for them,* it is quite evident to me that they will find occupation in your aca- demies, even in high departments, at a salary of $400, rather than labor in your common schools at ten or twelve dollars a Vide Note A. 124 month; or they will seek compensation for their services as masters of select schools. It seems to me certain that no be- nefit, not the most inconsiderable, is to be felt by the common schools from this instruction of teachers, unless, as a necessa- ry part of the very plan itself, the means of payment for the enhanced value of their services be devised and supplied. This result is evidently apprehended by the able Superintend- ent of Common Schools. But the hope seems to be indulged that the people, on this subject, will break their own lethargic slumbers, and rouse themselves in gladness as the light ap- proaches. In my opinion, the first feeling would rather be to turn from it, as painful to the vision. And besides, what is to wake them up? Is it to be some inward motion, or some out- ward impulsion? Will the offer of a competent teacher, and a lecture on the importance of better instruction, answer the purpose? It is warring with all experience to think so. Moreover, why cannot the truth be understood at once, and once for all, that no plan for the amelioration of the popular condition, being designed to operate through the active and voluntary agency of the people themselves, which does not ad- dress itself to the known composition and constitution of the uman mind, ever can become a successful one? If we in- tend to put this machine in motion, we must employ the pow- ers which it has, and not idly attempt to task it for any which it does not possess, In short, we must employ mind as an agent, just as we do solid matter, and water, and air, and steam—according to its properties and laws: and if otherwise attempted, we shall only reap disappointment and ruin. When we talk to the ignorant and the uninstructed about education, and the moral elevation it gives, we are uttering harmonious sounds to the deaf, and exhibiting brilliant colors to the blind. We address no intelligent faculty, and no known motive, and we excite no favorable feeling beyond that of a mute and stu- pid wonder. If we go one step farther, and, pointing to the higher classes, and to the visible effects of cultivation on indi- viduals, in advancing them in the eye and consideration of the world, make an appeal to the spirit of emulation and ambi- tion within them, we shall probably strike a chord that will 125 answer; but what the answer will be, is by no means so clear. Possibly the impulse may be of an elevating and upward ten- dency; yet it is much more likely to manifest itself in a dogged etermination to preserve their own condition, and drag all above it down to its degraded level. But let the impression be the most favorable that could be desired, we have next to present our scheme of finance. We haye now to tell them that their improvement will involve a serious expense and a liberal out- lay, and that it is expected of them to make a voluntary pro- vision for all the extra cost. And we shall no sooner have dropped a hint of the sort, than we shall find that we have alarmed their love of gain, and their honest apprehensions about the due supply of their animal wants and the full grati- fication of their animal propensities, and that having effectu- ally aroused the dominant feelings and affections of the vul- gar mind, our mission of benevolence has come to an utter end. If the teachers whom we are instructing at the public ex- pense are to be employed in common schools, as no other pro- vision is made for them, it is of course expected that the de- mands for their superior services are to be met and paid for by tuition fees; and it is expected also, that they shall be employ- ed as fast as they can be qualified, the foundation being ex- tended, with due perseverance, until every district in the State is supplied. | _ The sum of the wages of common school teachers for one year, in this State, is at present about $700,000. I handle the statistics of this subject in round. numbers, but with sufficient the rate-bills for tuition. "This sum is paid for 540,000 child- ren, or each child pays an average bill of about seventy-five cents. The average stipend paid to the teachers reaches the height of about seventy dollars each in the year; a sum which I make no doubt, is out and out equal to the value of their services. But now it is proposed to send into each district a competent teacher, and I put down his salary at $400, as the lowest amount which should be thought of, if it be seriously intend- 126 ed to raise the standard of education and elevate the charac- ter and condition of the people. As there will be 10,000 schools to be supplied, there will be four millions to be raised for teachers’ wages, instead of $700,000: and no less than $3,700,000 is to be supplied, on the present plan, from tuition fees. That is to say, each town will pay in fees an average sum of $4,353, each school district $363, and each scholar $6. 84. And this, be it remembered, will be in addition to the ex- penses incurred in the erection and furnishing of school-houses, in the purchase of school books, and in the taxations, both co- ercive and voluntary, to which the property of the town must be subjected for teachers’ wages. I am sure I need notadd to this statement one word to demonstrate that the instruction of teachers is to avail us nothing, if the State cannot be persua- ded to put forth its energies in the reconstruction of the entire system. The attitude which I have here emery places me under an indispensable obligation not to leave this subject without some suggestion, however crude it may be, and however little weight or authority it may carry with it, of what ought to be done in the premises. I shall not presume to offer any thing like a detailed plan; my purpose is only to indicate a course of action in the most general terms, and to insist on certain great leading principles which should govern all conduct in the mat- ter, and which, once adopted and firmly adhered to, cannot fail, I am persuaded, to suggest the best methods and lead to the best and the grandest results. In the first place, then, as a thing to be insisted on most of all, the government must lead the people in this business, and _ not wait to be led by them. ‘This principle is found, certain- ly, in our common school foundation, as it stands, but let me have leave freely to say, that it is not acted on with as much boldness as it should be. I respect, as much as any man, that feeling of caution which makes legislation afraid lest it should chance to commit unnecessary and improper encroachments. But there is a difference between caution and cowardice; and there are some matters which cannot be treated judiciously without being touched with a bold hand. Such an one, in 127 my judgment, is that we are now considering. Let us im- pute to the people, in political affairs, whatever wisdom and sa- gacity our love of them may teach us to give them credit for, but let us keep this subject apart for the exercise of our honest regard for the philosophy and the truth we may find involved in it. . Of one thing let us be entirely satisfied: that it is in vain to expect the people to make a voluntary upward movement, from their present level, in the work of education, just because it is not in the constitution of man to do it, and because not one example of the sort can be found in the whole history of We must adopt the maxim, which is the chief wis- dom and praise of the common school system as it now exists, that the people will move in this matter only as they are moved upon, and that it is the business of the State to supply the mo- tive power; and, once adopted, the maxim must be fearlessly carried out in practice. I hope I shall not be understood by these suggestions, that we are to copy implicitly any military system of discipline, de- signed to afford just illumination enough to complete and per- fect the training necessary to form accomplished and effectize subjects for an iron despotism. In this light do I regard the educational modes established in Prussia. At any rate, one thing is agreed on all hands, that the police of that system is utterly inapplicable and impracticable with us, though it is ad- mhitted we may glean from it some excellent lessons. Still, in my opinion, this is the very country where govern- ment should do more for learning, under its just authority, than is done in any other, instead of less.* It seems to me that it should be assumed as an unexpressed but ne- cessary part of the compact into which the people of this thority. If party nef ‘are suffered to be mingled with the system, its whole « 128 country entered with each other, when they agreed to form themselves into republican communities, in which they’ were to govern themselves by their elected representatives, that a high standard of education for the entire mass should be adopted and sustained; simply because without it, as is uni- versally conceded, the mode of government contemplated could not and cannot be supported. ‘This view of the ori- ginal compact into which the people entered in their indivi- dual capacities, involves two or three important particulars, which it is necessary to notice. In the first place, there is a positive political obligation resting on every individual, having the proper opportunity, to submit himself to instruction; and the force of this obligation in practice, if submitted to, would carry every child to school under parental care and authority. Without such instruction, there can be no intelligent perform- ance of that high political duty—that solemn part in the pub- lic administration of the government—which every elector is called on to perform. And as every other man has an inte- rest in the manner in which this duty is discharged, as well as the individual performing it, the obligation to submit to in- struction is a perfect one, as to which the community may and is bound to demand satisfactory evidence that it has been faith- fully observed.* Of course, 1 shall not be thought guilty of the absurdity of supposing that any man or child can be forced to receive instruction; but I would have it understood that I am clear in the opinion, that failure or refusal to meet this obli- gation should involve this certain consequence, that the indi- vidual must rest satisfied with the privileges of an ignorant citizen, which he can always enjoy with safety to the repub- lic, but must not aspire to the higher privileges and immuni- ties of an instructed one. There is now another particular to be mentioned, connected with the one just noticed. There is a positive political obliga- ~ tion resting on every individual, not only to submit to instruc- ld ¢ 7 fal + Tilaati P alan. ms If th tue public U tors in this respect, there would: I believe, be no erase Whatkves i in devising & just, effective, and unoppressive mode of obtaini 129 tion, but, if able, to pay for the expense of it; and if either unable or unwilling to do so, to permit the community to pro- vide for his education at the public expense. This involves, in the cases supposed, a reciprocal obligation on the part of the State, or the community, to make such provision. In case of inability, this duty on the part of the public is universally ac- knowledged. When individuals are found unwilling to meet the necessary expenses of instruction, the like duty is actually practiced, though it is not so apt to be confessed; while the just benefit which ought to flow from it is omaniie defeated by a policy, which begins with caution but ends in parsimony. To estimate truly the force and spirit of this obligation, it should be recollected that the class of unwilling citizens, by ‘the very distinction we make, does not include the unable, but is made up of persons of some substance, which may al- ways be reached by a proper system of taxation. The chief resource of that great corporation which we call the State, is in the individual property of the citizens, who are the corpo- rators; and of itself it can possess no property but each corpo- rator has an interest in it. When, therefore, the State under- takes to prepare a foundation for popular education, and to fur- nish the means for its support, it can apply nothing to this ob- ject which is not the property of the public—a property to which every man of substance directly contributes, or in which he has an interest without direct contribution. It is easy to see, from this view, that the class of the unwilling, though they may refuse voluntarily to make any sufficient. ‘provision community, is permitted to meet the exigency in its own way, but in doing so it takes care to coerce the unwilling, as far as peacticaie into a just contribution. il of administration with us is provided for, by the division and subdivision of the people into distinct and, in many respects, independent communities. We have counties, and towns within counties, and cities and villages—all being distinct political communities, and exercising, within them- selves, larger or more limited powers of administration. It is E 130 through these divisions, that popular education is, and ought to be, chiefly carried forward. The one hundred thousand dollars furnished annually by the State for the support of com- mon schools, does not exceed the thirteen hundredth part of the whole annual expense. The rest is furnished entirely through the medium of the county and town administrations, with the aid of tuition fees. The whole outlay for the con- struction of school-houses, in which more than two millions are invested, for the repairs of these houses, their furniture and their fuel, falls, self imposed, on the taxable property of the towns. Besides this, the same property of the towns, receiv- ing the bounty of the State, is also twice taxed for the sup- port of teachers; once by the administration of the county and again by their own. Nothing can be more admirable than the foundation whic is here laid for a system of adequate universal instruction. The principles really involved in it need nothing but that they should be carried into vigorous execution. There is a blend- ing of authority with moral suasion, and of constraint with freedom, which is not only just in itself and adapted to our institutions, but belongs truly to the spirit of the age. The only fault I have to find is, that in the present state of the sub- ject and in the present condition of the people, the authority is not exerted with sufficient steadiness and effect, while the moral force wants the aid of other and higher sanctions; that the constraint is too feeble, and the freedom too free. Setting out with the proposition, which no man does or ought to doubt, that popular education of an elevated charac- ter is a work of indispensable necessity and obligation in our country, just as much so as.the support of government itself, I see now no good reason why it should not be made a legal condition of the existence of every town in the State as a dis- tinct corporation, that the necessary provision shall be made for primary instruction within it, according to its numbers, and according to the standard prescribed by public authority. Such provision would embrace the requisite buildings and their fur- niture and supplies, and so much for teachers’ wages as would meet the probable deficiency in the funds for that object, after 131 applying the amount which may be received from the State and from the rate*bills of the pupils instructed. _ I see no hard- ship in insisting that no town should enjoy its privileges as such, which would not come up to this requisition; and that in such case, it should not be organized, or if organized, it should be dissolved, and annexed entire, or in parts, to such towns as would meet the condition.* I am aware that propositions of this sort, which contemplate important changes, are apt to strike the minds of observers with alarm. But I know also that these monsters, which seem such when viewed at a distance, often undergo an apparent transformation, so that an aspect which was thought to be ut- terly terrific, is finally converted into a countenance of consi- derable beauty, when its features are brought under a near and calm inspection. I am not without strong hope that such may be the result with the subject in hand. 1 think it may be made to appear, that with the introduction of proper changes and improvements, our common schools may be supported, ac- cording to the elevated standard now contemplated on all hands, even without any additional burthen on the people which would for one moment be made the subject of serious complaint. My proposition of reform begins with the districts. There are not only too many of them, but they are out of all pro- portion to the exigencies of the case, on any plan of instruction whatever. There are upwards of 10,000 of them in the State for the accommodation of 540,000 children; an average of more than twelve in every town, and ond siecttieed- Sma S- example of a liberal appropriation to complete the proper fur- nishing and endowment of the college and Institute. In the mean time, let the Institute, even with the means in posses- sion, take in hand the business of preparation for the delivery of courses of lectures to be begun in the coming autumn— lectures which may be so conducted, I hesitate not to say, that at the end of eighteen months, a diligent hearer of the course, with ordinary capacity only, may have a sounder acquaintance with science and useful knowledge, than can be found in one out of twenty college graduates, who carry the evidence of their proficiency in a classical certificate under seal. To complete the outline of a plan for a system of learning and public instruction in this State, it remains only for me to add, that it requires to be crowned with at least one great State University. This should be established here at the seat of government. We now have the name of a State univer- sity solemnly incorporated by act of the Legislature, but no poten & To create one, in fact as well as in name, the not hesitate or delay to appropriate one million of dollars for its endowment. If we want a model, it may be found in Germany. Perhaps the most perfect is that at Got- tingen.* And as for the million or more which might be ne- cessary to endow it, let it be the business of the men of learn- ing, by a concerted union of all their forces, to make the pub- lic authorities ashamed to refuse it. It is demonstrable, that without something of the sort, science cannot be kept fully alive in any country. If scientific speculation be not cherish- ed and strengthened, her wing will flag whenever she attempts to gain the region of a higher and rarer atmosphere. The foot of ardent and noble discovery will tire and stumble, with none to cheer him on, and no aid towards clearing the obstruc- tions from his untrodden path. If philosophy be not allowed * When this university was established, a building, then used as a gymnasium, was appropriated for the purpose of lecturing; and for a long time no other provi- sion was made, either for the convenience of the students or of the professors: every one was to take care of himself as well as the state of the place would al- low. To this university the town of Gottingen owes its prosperity.—London Jour. of Education. " ze) 4 a : 2 : EG i, 145 implements, and materials, and opportunity, and leisure, she cannot mine, and elaborate, and build; cannot lay deep foun- dations, and raise heavy frame works, nad carry up her struc- tures to unwonted altitudes, to meet the visible glory which ought to rest on their summits in the sight of the people and of the nations. To say that this service in the cause of learning may be expected from our colleges, is utterly to mistake their business and object, as wellastheir means. They are toconduct, what has been aptly termed, the gymnastics of education. are, after all, in relation to learning in its exaltation and sub- limity, nothing more than high preparatory schools. They are to fit and prepare the student to occupy an intelligent po- sition in the class of the university professor. Mature in years, with a vigorous understanding, and in full possession of the elements of knowledge, he is thus made ready to wait on the ordinances of the university with singular profit, not to him- self only, but reciprocally to the learned professor, and to the cause of science. They mutually cheer on each other, the one panting to follow wherever the other shall dare to lead. Eve- ry high demonstration is then understood; every lofty effort is appreciated; and in this way it is, that, by the influence of a common zeal anda common sympathy, they are enabled final- ly to ascend and stand together, professor and pupil, on the very heights of science. It is believed that in no uichet way, than through the sus- tained efforts and the example of such a university, can the cause and the interests of true learning be properly subserved. It is through this medium alone that the standard of high scholarship is to be fixed. It is her example which is to pre- scribe, and regulate, and elevate, the methods and business of the schools set up for professional studies. She it is who is to give energy and efficiency to the labors of the voluntary asso- ciations formed for the promotion of learning, by furnishing to their boards a supply of active, zealous and competent mem- bers. It is in her ample and well furnished halls where are hereafter to be gathered those ardent spirits among us, who are now driven away to the deep wells of learning in other 146 countries, toslake that burning thirst of knowledge which can be satisfied nowhere in our own. And finally, it is she who must become the nursing mother of those noble sons of genius, who are to rise from their eminent position in professorial chairs, to the dignity and glory of original, profound, and distinguished authorship; and who, by themselves and by the scholars whom ey form, are to create that atmosphere of learning, at once pure and luminous, which must envelope the whole land, in order to afford the proper element of life and breath, of health and of vigor, to the constitution and body of a safe and genu- ine sidinailes Having completed, I am afraid by a very tedious process, this imperfect sketch of an extended system of public instruc- tion and learning, and having insisted on the necessity of en- dowment by the State and under State authority, I have one word to say in conclusion to my fellow members of the Insti- tute, of the relation in which, it seems to me, we stand to the subject we have been considering. I maintain, in the first place, that no spontaneous movement on such a subject, is to be expected from the body of the people. And I go further, and maintain, that even the government, no matter in whose hands the power may be, no matter what political party may be in the ascendant—even the government must not be ex- pected voluntarily to turn from the care and pursuit of those measures, pressed on it from all quarters, which concern the interests of trade, and of agriculture, and of manufactures, and of internal improvement, and which are chiefly directed to aid in the creation of individual wealth and in the promo- tion of outward public prosperity—to turn from these volunta- rily, and take up the interests of learning, originate the proper system, on a scale commensurate with its dignity and impor- tance, and carry it forward to its consummation. On this sub- ject, governments too, like the people, will act efficiently when acted upon, and not otherwise. Now I submit to the Institute, that it is peculiarly the business of those who, by their volun- tary associations, make a public profession of their interest in the cause of learning and education, to begin the movement in this important matter. Let the learned societies of this 147 State establish correspondencies with each other, with a view to add the force of numbers to the force of argument; and, taking an example of wisdom, even from the enemies of law and order and morals, let us too agitate, and agitate, and agi- tate, in the cause of truth and of virtue, until our opinion shall form and become public opinion, with all the weight and authority of that mighty engine; and let us give no rest to the men of power among us, till we shall see the land redeemed from the vices of ignorance, bigotry, and superstition, and es- tablished under the reign of a wide-spread illumination; of a pure, exalted, and ennobling philosophy; and of a religion of undefiled and Christian simplicity. NOTES. The following i the selected Academi: neli 4. Geography and General nary combi > The History of mS et * . Geometry, Trigonometry, Mensuration and Surveying. 7. Natural Phono, “iia the Elements of Astronomy. BS Slesieg| s REMARKS. eg | ez lacleciccl = mo |ms ie a ias| & 6 A. M.|30.017|64 2157 6|....| SW Cloudy; very light wind. 7 -031/65 2'58 9|....|WSW ss we 8 -035/65 6/60 ¢ Ss Overcast; light wind. 9 -033/66 2/60 6)....] W = 2s 10 -031/66 2/59 6|....| SW | Overcast; very light rain and wind. 11 -018/66 0\60 2)....| * + os “ts 12 -010 3/62 Diwwee ee bad Ls 1 P. M./29.996|68 2/67 8|....| ** Fine light clouds. 2 . 0 Si oos = Cloudy; light wind. 3 -005|70 4/66 4)....) * ‘e -very light rai 4 -008|70 3|66 9\....) * = se 5 004 2'66 eeee id rg “ 6 -014\69 6/66 4|.... = vis vie 7 -000/68 9/65 4)....) a se 8 -990/68 3/64 Q)....| se 9 -986/67 3/62 7|....| < 10 -978166 7/61 9}... . = light wind il -976|66 3/60 be Me 12 -966/66 0/60 ¢ ‘< light rain, 1 A. M.|29.948/65 8/59 ¢ ae “4s 2 -932)/65 6/59 4 2 as 3 -920/65 4/59 : oir 4 924/65 3/59 a 4 5 932/65 4/59 str as 6 -934/65 5/60 ; + ba: 7 -942/66 0/60 : is i 8 946/66 2/61 £ «light wind. 9 -950/67 3/63 ¢ we = 10 -950/68 2/63 4)... fe ze 11 950/68. 5/64 2....) *& ae sh 12 -946/68 7/62 9}.2..) & vy a 1 P. M./29.9: 4/64 5)....| t - 4 3 2162 7|..../S var. " de 3 8/63 6).-..] « Overcast; very light rain and wind. 4 -9L1/68 6/63 6|....| SSW “ Ws 5 : 5/63 4;....|/S var. = light brisk wind. 6 . 63 3/63 0}.016) § sé #8 Mean.|29 969/67 4\62.5|.1101 | Instruments and position same as in December. 155 TABLE IL. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments of the Albany in ee io, Acade- my, for 37 successive hours, commencing M. of the 21st of. June, 1836, and nding 6 P. M. of the follomitig day. ‘Lat. 42° 39’ 3” N.; Long. 73° 46’ 38” W. By a Committee of the Institute. i -- Pe | I £0 = & Oo} s,s wey ° . . ~s ze ee Bs Es 2 PE ed REMARKS. $5| 26 ‘3| = 5.4 24 3 Sle ja | alidias| se > A. M./29.838/54° [53°50/52° |...) NE jvery li’t.| Overcast; slight rain. F -843/56 [55 [53 vsulsseme J lm. y { -845/57 [55 [54]... .| WNWivery li’t. #e cls. moving W. 855157 155 50/53 |...] r «sit. rain“ 10 847/60 00|56 25154 |... NW | light. . * “ 1 856/62 50/61 50/56 |...| N_ |very lit.) — “e 12 -846/62 50/60 [54 |....WNW| “ a“ “ P, M.|29.842/62 57 75/56 |...| NW |“ . i _ 2 32 00/59 [56 a“ ae ‘ 2 50 Yr ; of “é te “ ee “ec 3 “ce oc ) “ec “sé 10 s u ] [. ““ “ec 12 “ “ A. M. e “ y “cc “ec 3 es «els. breaking. “ce ahd 43 ‘ ey. cir. in E ce c ‘« els. ass. app. cu, 3 ENE *¢ thin cir. overh’d; ) NE ‘ [cum. in hor. 1 ) SE ce NW re 12 + P. M. ‘ “ce ‘ te : ‘“ Pia 7 ae Mean. |29.896'61717!58°55153°12) .02 Instruments and position same as in March. Time ascertained at noon, on the 16th, by a transit instrument. Made on ME TABLE Ii. taken at three hour interv: Lat, 46° 48’ WV.; Long. 71° 15 W. By J. Warts, Superintendant of Telegraphs. OGICAL OBSERVATIONS ape Diamond, Quebec, Lower 12 M. wad the 20th June, _— and ending 12 M. of the 22d, Canada, commencing 7 ; aS Sa + 3 3 a: obo | # So] ‘6 Wind. fESs REMARKS. eg | 2 ge) 3 oe eeig =| 2 > 20th perfectly 12 29.90 |....|70 calm |......| Cloudy. 3 P. M./29.91 |....(69 aé chbhnn gi 6 29.94. |. .31/65 “2 wee . 29.95 |....|54 43 »-ee..| Cirro cumulus. 29.96 55 |54 as vehe fé Qist 3 A. M.|29.98 '55 (54 Unsettled.|...... 6 29.99 55 |55 ENE 28 Clog: a in various parts. 9 30.02 58 |62 NEbyE}j| 33 12 30.04 \62 67 &e 33 | A thin 3 P. M./30.04 |62 |62 NE by E | 20 Cloudy. SW byS 6 30.04 [59 [56 | NEbyE| 20 “ SW by S 9 30.05 |55 |52 8 20 | Athin scud. NW by W 12 30.05 |52 [51 s 20 | Clearing about the zenith; clout 24 NW by W ’ [at hori 3 A. M.|30.05 |52 NW by W} 2 | Clearing. 6 30.06 |....j51 NE4N 11 | Clear. 9 30.06 |.... BS 20 ae 12 30.06 |....|69 ENE 24 ve The cistern of bar, is 330 ft. above Mean. |30.004!56.5159.17! level of St. Lawrence at 4 ebb. the lower NW by W. Ss NW by When compared with Mr. weet hae which, The true mean would therefore be 29°89. ake 29°835. <. signifies that the upper current is S and a TABLE IV. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Montreal, rape) Canada, for 37 successive hours, com- _ mencing at 6 A. M. of 2\st June, and ending 6 P. M. of the following day. Lat. 45° 30’ WV; Long. 73° 22’ W. By J. S. McCorp, Cor. Sec. Natural History Society, Montreal. Ss; | l¢gile.l els. ef | 82/28) £8) 2! ele REMARKS. o3 | g2 | 8"| 6) 5 | £F i me ieujer |al|a be 20th . 9 A. M./29.920/65 [57 [42 N | 0} Cloudy. 9 P. M.}29.916)64 eooe| NE | 0 « Qist 6 A. M./29.924/65 aw Ere Rain; commenced at 5 A. M. 7 29 930/65 Seeey Pee light. 8 29 .932)65 ee Ge 9 29.940/64 wee] “ 10] steady. 10 29 .948/64 oumaire 3°” i xs ll 29 .952/64 anew) *! - ne 12 29 .950)64 A cc's aC Ls as 1 P. M.|29.950)64 iY eee SO Se heavy. 2 29.950) 65 coee| “4 ‘¢ diminishing. 3 29946165 Sb ose) # “« drizzling. 4 29.960) 65 ea Pesen| -# clearing little in E. 5 29.950)64.5 tT ee eae O Gana raining; clouds driving fast 6 29.950'64.5 oN ea ae Cloudy. * [& high. 7 29 ..950/64.5 este all over the horizon. 8 29 .950)65 A Oe * 9 968 65 “x “éc “ “ “ec 10 .968 65 set “e ce “ “é 9) 65 5 et ce “ “ “cc 29 .960 65 oa “é “cc ‘cc “ce 1 A. M.|29.9&2)65 Bren, cede xe ¥e Sf * kek “c “ “ ae 29 950/65 eecee et te “if 4s 295 eee oad t we se 65 BP oe 8 Rain. 65 ones! tins iat . 65 oD faccepe 1 OH Cloudy : 10) 64 a “« _ breaking in the E. 63.5 Te tes ey 63.5 54 - Cloudy. 64 wee F bee 63.5 52 L Blue} asky appearing; clouds Be = ~ see] , 5) beuc “ec ‘ “cc “c “a 964)64 5 [51 iS % “ ‘ 29 970/64 eee 86 : “ “ec se -960)64.49/56.33/53.2 Bar. corrected for cist. cap. and re- duced to 32° Fah. 29.928. Rain -4in 036/64 |61 {55 E | 1} Clear. 0. 66 |64 $s j1 : in December. 158 TABLE V. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the — Fushi ing? Tad; commencing at at 6 P. M. of the Sliowting day. Lat, 40° 44 58” VW; Long. 73° 44’ 20” W. By Prof. C. Ginx. or 37 successive hours, fo M. of the 21st of June, 1836, and ending °o Sa = |< REMA KS. af g | 2 |sto rm began at P. M. 20th, mE 8 = = 5 z 5 | & = | with slow Fon, oe during ins a D | mS | eve. rained hard, thu. & li’g. 6 A, M./29.81 SW) brisk. Dark clouds and rain, * % ) “e ae 8 80 “¢ | higher x ad 9 278 ‘| high, 10 .79 s vs Seed end. 10 344. M. 1.85 11 F ee i inches rain since7 P. M. 12 , ‘ risk, : LP, Moe ‘* | fresh. | Grey clouds overspread. 3 ** ‘gentle. he fu! 3 s fresh, “ ‘ 4 s ce 7 « 5 .83 ce gentle, “ se 6 e L é “e ae “ee 7 = 7 “se ee ae ce 8 a7 ‘« } Driz. rain between 73 and 8. 9 88 “¢ | Clouds partially breaking. 10 e a “ec fresh ce “ce 11 .£9 &s ‘6 Dark clonde a ppi g 12 4 ee ee ‘e 1A.M.|_ .88 : *¢ | Dark clouds. 2 87 “| brisk. aie 3 = “e “ce ce 4 e “ce ce ee 5 ° ‘*« |gentle. shed 6 ° ‘« | brisk.| Dropping rain at intervals. Z si se “e “e “ce 8 : ‘* 'gentle.| Clouds breaking. g z ** | fresh *¢ overspr 10 . ‘* Igentle. = 11 : “light.| 12 re 4eé ec Riga Ae ‘ lventle.) Sun app. at intervals. = 4 ce “ce oe “ec 3 . 3 ‘¢ | light. | Clonds again spread 4 ‘ 4 ce “é “ ae ) F ce ee “ce “cc é 96 62 el oz sol | «| « —— - Ra sags of bar. i1 inches; do. Mean, 129.854'59 74157.39154.14 thermometer, 158°. a baro poy is a leathern Sage instrument of — s construction, and ment. ota he observat.o re precisely as they were read off from "ila eight of berdaeter above low water mark in Flus stows ots 54 feet. 159 TABLE VI. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the sone ee pte aac eae :) for 37 sue- cessive howrs, commencing @ M. o 21st f Feac, 1836, and vidas at 6 P. M. of ine oats ai ¥y. Lat, 41° 34 43” N.; Long. 72’ 39’ W. By Prof. A. W. Smirx. es 2s | = ‘ Sa 37 £|% 4 8 Pe os Buel Su] 3 oe ¥ . 2 me ef | ee|esies| 2\/os| | 3,18) 8 | fg ef | 6 |r| e| 2 /22| 2 | 22/2) 2 | 32 ms Sileda | A\|Feta | oe |e |e | Bs 6 A. M.|20.566 |56 ) 3 NE | fresh.} nimbus.| SW |cloudy 7 578 5 5 ) 3 “ce ““é sé sé y 0.01 8 -570 |56 5 |50 is = . ‘ 0.06 9 2590 5 5 “e ce ce ce “ec 10 588 3 5 5 ‘ ee “cc “ce ‘ 11 -588 156 5 NNE 43 és “t a 12 583 5 ce c cé “ce ee 1 P. M.)29.573 [57 a = re . f 0.01 - f -583 157 § 452 N fe ie 0.01 3 -083 [57 5|NNE| “ {cu. strat.) ‘‘ jcloudy} .0L 4 580 3 ‘ “ee “ec ‘ 5 -091 [57 ee brisk. <4 ee “ 6 595 y be ee ce ee ce - 613 5 oe ce e “cs oe 8 626 ce hd é “cc “c 9 -643 5 150 5 4 fresh.| stratus re “es 10 664 ) “ ab sé ‘a a3 11 654 5 N brisk ate - be 12 646 5 5 “ec 6c cc tc “se 1A.M 647 4 fresh. Be ee ad 9 647 ‘“é ‘ “ec ita ee 3 647 ee gentle. “ec te te 4 ‘ > oe : strat. 5 657 5|NNE| ‘ strat ** Icloudy 6 73 fresh ‘ ‘ “cc 7 [73 gent ‘ce “cc ‘ec 8 ) Ree 1. donee cum. itr: 8 .806 71 ee 9 ~827/72 - me : 10 .831/71 ig Nimbus; ‘‘ 1l 827/72 x af £e -831 71 = *. cum. str. 1 A. M, |29.837'70 ee -838 70 light. tf 3 -836 70 te ‘s 4 -847/69 |61 5 . id rain. 5.4 -865 68 5/60 5|59 5)57 5 we “ 6 -87468 5 ee “ € -894 69 at A rain. 8 -893 69 A, M./30.163/60 [53 75}....| N brisk.| NW | Cir. cum. cls. scat..ov. hea. ‘ -168}62 [55 30/51 | NNE| “ & break. away. -149/58 |58 00/50 gentle.| W “ overhead, — ) -158/60 |60 10 NN é “ Sead peasbuants cirri & cir. 10 168164 |64 2550 | NE |light.| «* | Cloudy. {cum in hori. 1 -145|67 167 90150 |WNW| * “ee $6 12 -143|72 (73 10/50 | <* « | « | Overcast. P.M -115|72 9|74 20/50 “6 ‘c 66 ‘ ‘iz 74 5 95 “cc “ée “ce *. “ 105/73 50 |WSW) « “6 si 3 f 112170 5\71 25|52 §-.¢ @ $e ae ; ) 105|67 |67 50/52 -| SSW, | = 4 102 64 63 75153 “ec “cc 73 “ ; -119|61 7|61 75 8 aa ve 119}61 5|60 75(56 = 2 = e ) -106)61 |60 00)56 z A me ad 10 -120/59 5/58 75|56 : #6 Ma 1 114/57 37 75/58 25 Re se Light cir. cum. cls.; faint 12 090157 1/56 25/52 Si ent BS [aurora, A. M.|30.094/55 5155 00/52 i geoeh Re eA 2 -089)55 (54 10/54 fs “ Ww Clonay: ~~ cum, & s 3 -084|54 9/54 00/54 ts se se ; clear ar OV; fant 1 .084|55 (54 00152 7| “ “ ‘“ OW ‘ [aurora. 5 -082)55 7/55 00153 3} ‘‘ |gentle.| . ‘ Cls. ass. cir. cum. sha ; 088155 5/54 75153 5] « © |..eee.{| Clear; cir. cum. cls. in ho. ; -084|59 |57 75154 8} “ | light.} N° | Cloudy; cum. & scuds S. 3 -065/62 5/62 00/54 4) “| brisk.| NW as ) -066|64 2)64 5 3} SSW} light. : Clear overh’d; It. cir. cum. 10 025/68 |68 6 ee : 1 003 70 5 71 sé te a4 ae 12 97917 76 2 = brisk.| ¢‘ +s oh P. M.|29.966/77 i “ se e 2 -963\74 e * os ones 3 -969/68 2/69 35/57 O|S var.| ** “ de mipome Sard ag: 4 -954\70 |66 50/57 as & $6 Overcast; seuds from s. > -954\70 + \65 75/58 s $6 se 5 -936|\70 (65 00/58 «I gentle.) ‘. 3 oe Mean.|30.078.64.463.75153.8 = ‘Am’t of rain .003 of an in. The barometer used i ~ the aave obs. was by Roach of N. ¥.; with t glass cistern; neutral point 30, t , capacity 1-39. The e ee aris = Trou ghton iat yee of 7 edie The dew point sen taken by Pouil- let’s — until 5 A. LJ of the 22d, “etter wiseh it was deduced from epee — meter. Position of instruments same as in December. Time asce re a genie it intro on the 19th, TABLE XIL METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Montreal, Lower Canada, for 37 successive hours, com- M. of the mencing at 6 A. M. of 21st Sept. and ending 6 P. following day. Lat, 45° 30’. M; Long. 73° 22’ W. By J. S. MeCorp, Cor. Sec. Natural History Society, Montreal. = es, zz . 3 rl g 3S * ef 142 (8lesi 8) 334% REMARKS. 23 |e. lgelge|2| £2 18 me geile 6 |ala de 20th 53 9 A. M./29.842/71 |68 |....| SW 3 - pe M./30.100/71 {59° }....[ 2) 6A. M.| 200/70 149 |....;| N Clear; cloudless; beautiful sunrise. 7 200 Ok. te nouere oe i a 8 -210/68 |53 N| NW] 1) &* _ light clouds rising in E. 9 * 68 eeee as { i ib - 10 -200/68 4 “e ( Cloudy; mottled cirro stratus. il -194|67 5/60 |.... N ( 12 -170\67 |62 (46 | NNW clearing in — 4 & Ww. 1P.M.| .134 61 --| WIN [l- Clear; a few cirro cum 0122/67 |64 {45 3 elOZ67 165 | eves * “4 4 092167 |64 |445) * ** not a cloud above the hori. 5 -092/66 5/63 |....| N nf 6 -092}66 5/62 |....} “ a 7 é 58 eos ~ = 8 -080 57 ° i 4 9 078167 156" |. ..6h ° 10 -082|67 ape ‘* bright moonlight. ll -082\67 [54 Fre pli: 12 082/67 |54 wg yee 1A.M.| .066/67 Be Sas - 3 -050|67 {54 |...) “ ‘¢ prilliant starlight; not a cloud, 3 -050|67 Pe Seated sg i . 4 -044/67 ia a £ a ne 5 -036|67 4 5 . 6 -036|67 ro veut NEW Cloudy; cumuli. IS BT, NW. iia 2 | 299 86 a = * ¢irti and eumuli. li 9: Tosvein ** ~~ nearly all over horizon. 12 58 SW ‘cc a“ “ 1P.M.' .918/66 5 ey a, | WwW by “i “ 9 .894167 ‘ ( ‘é “ “ 3 .870167 a “ ( “i “ “ 4 .870 59 “ { “a “c “ 5 870 SC ein ( ‘« breaking up. 6 870/67 ) 160 - kd Mean.|30.051/67 1/59 8/50 9 Bar. corrected for cist. cap. and re- duced to 32° Fah. 30.019. 23d. 9 A. M.j29.966)66 {58 sn N 1) Cloudy. 9P. M.| .896/67 |59 oom sd 1 se hi * AT Instruments and position same as in December. “> Was anh upper [4 N. the wind was W. , whilst below 166 TABLE XIii. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Institute, Flushin commencing at ending 6 P. M. of the following da. Lat. 40° 44’ 58” WN; Line: a 44’ 20” W. By Prof. C. Gitx. r 37 successive hours, ng, L. L, for of the 2\st tek September, 1836, and 83 lau le = $s a ge (28|/F8/S8io /3) 2 REMARKS. ' ££ | Se] oeiS8] S| oF aS a5 $e Ret] CF S/S p< Pe ‘ga ms | <= |H | él o/\as 30.194.67 |62 50558 . | NE] SE| light. | Bright clouds, mostly spread. 7 +209 67 50/63 58 “ - Clouds a little darker. 8 | 164,67 4 50/58 50} ‘| “ |gentle | Stereo ho et | «| «| fresh.| Sun i iter Smo ~ - oe: a 50/70 a 61 ‘ “ Clouds darkening. 183, 5 # : P.M.| .168.69 _ |68 50/60 50, “| ‘< igentle) — « a - “ee ‘ 7 22 eb da it | | PPE a fo rope of 4 “135/67 50{67 25)60 50 |< |veryle| bees i ed | sol60 50, «| | & Dark cls & rail; reliuilfogin 7 115165 63 sof oes] Cal [6 to 8 .12in, 8 156 67 50 "= ES ae ds oversp “ee oc 10 "17565 59 50) LNW tens | “ « 11 1143166 [60 50]59 | “| «| & “ “ 1 143 66 59 50] “| «] « ee ee 1A.M.| .138 66 60 ec] “ “ 144 66 50 60 sé te ce “ “ce 3 .139 66 ) “ce “ ce 6c “c 4 126 65 60 “ce te te 73 tc 5 108 65 5059 75) ] «| 6 120/65 2 |60 N = Clouds orvtiaii mee 7 7120165 66 5063 | | | 8 111/69 ) 65 or is = ao 9 119 69 66 ~ sa a 10 .121/69 65 “| SE} ligh louds darkened lledly 11 110/69 25/65 25] « ‘© | Overcast. [about 9 3-4. -091 69 50|66 50) * | SE rs Dark clou 1P.M -068 68 25/05 25) ,“« | NE gentle.| Rain; from 12 1-4 to 4 P. ce ce ae : bai’ Oae = ) ~4 SE |NW very se Js . 3 | NE wcities es S| fader ez fos) «| nary 1 Min. ce \ } } The was made with extreme care, for the purpose, b =e of N. Y. having a glass stern, with an adjustment for the aeoteal t as d can be read point, an off to the ag “of an inch. Correction for cai pillarit rvations trument and the one used in June, there is a mean difference of : Height of barometer above low water mark of Flushing bay, 54 ft. cere peer 167 TABLE XIV. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS. Made at the ‘ggeb asiilgee sar gels ge ) for 37 sue- A. M. o cessive hours, comme wees at 6 Zlst es Sept. 1836, and pines at 6 P. M. of the inane. ee ay. Lat, 41° 34’ 43” WV; Long. 72' 39’ W. ‘ By Prof, A. W. Smirs. i MH pe om m4 ar 831s — P= Be ed ai 2 s ond 2 On| Se =) mos > + ee | gel gel ee] £122) | fe | 213 | 5 By) oe aS 28 : 22 aels"ia'| ale?|2|é62/)4/s 6 A. M.|29.807 5 |56 2 N_ |gentle.| cirrus. | W | fair. |” 822 5 3 ) ce “ce ec ae : Late 8 .824 2 5 152 NE |} fresh. as N “ 2 9 -844 3 2 NNE vie £ ape ds a 10 851 15 N mile.| ci. stra,| ‘‘ fe 24 ll 844 NNE | light “ ee 12 841 ) E 1 P. M./29.836 2 - 3 -821 3 818 ) 4 818 5 818 HY 6 -816 5 7 -836 5 |57 8 -824 3 *9 -827 4 10 -829 5 il -829 5 12 830 1 A. M./29.829 5 72 ~832 5 5 3 833 4 -833 5 5 -822 70 5 6 -813 |70 7 808° 8 -802 5 9 -803° 10 9.793 |76 PS ee -746 |75 SS gs -743 Kj 2723 5 5 3 5 (63 3 4 2 , 5 5 |62 J 6 5 |62 Mean.|29.8015|73 51/60 55156 95 0.13 Instramente and position same as in June, * Lunar halo, t Aurora borealis faintly visible. TABLE XV. “METEOROLOGICAL, OBSERVATIONS u Maine, for 37 successive howrs, commencing of t awe 83 and ending 6 P. M. of Qo cpa oe 3 g ro ers 3 z REMARKS. Be Om] 2 ae te fet 54. 153 cir. st.) Fresh breeze; clear, except at S. o. or clear. ~ not a cloud. ~ 158... [56 cir. st. bed haze at s. ‘60 56 50 a6 mi 3 55 26, 59 50 “oe ~ 62 50 “ec “oe f ce fe “ “ tpg: ce te se} Calm = §4 Clouds very faint. o moon bright, _ | Slight a m SW clear. Slight haze SW: halo ro. moon. S Very sli. a Sw; alichaee. Sw. stratus; 1 the 1 ee ) nimb. ) cir. # Sie : ) te cee ) «“ =~ 4 a “é 4 5 ‘ce 5 A “ce 6 2 ‘ _ Mean./30.17'68.1 (59.9 '57.1 | ata These observations were made with a barometer made b Dolland, London. — ovine baromete Y above low water mark in Kennebec civor, 40 40 feet. The ex- meter was a spirit fletmometer, 1 made by Bate, London. The wet bulb Gerace was a mercurial thermometer, made by Thos. Rubergall, Lon. TABLE XVi. ¥ ian: fs METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS 37 successive hours, commencing ae and ip: 6 =3 M. "Bh the Made at William's College, for 6 A. M. of the 2\st ces Jllwias day. se. | Seis, ze | 23| 43] £3 oe Be Er bist ms 8 |< : A. M./|29. | 5) eae NW 69 55 ae _ = ON AMMWIR BR SOOIM Om wOMBESOHUS 5 -\ Thick clou Clouds cirro camila : es ume “Nearly clear. Cirro stratus. dy. Slight rain. Dark; cloudy. 71 0|67 25166 tat mn 68.3 (61 and position same as in eee aaa ous of the mercurial Ee a . oe) ee June. These observations gives the height column above the mercury in “oe Cc ” M ai, 5 ”? ” eeeercevece ” ” ” ”? a ”? “Apno[g ” a ” *9[GISTA TOOUI ‘Apnoyo < n ” ” ef “Aurey Pe ” ” ‘OF'D 1 Aures ” P ” ” ?? : ” ” ? ” ” 55 “oyeropowl | | Aq AN ss 4&q M “"Ysouy ”? ” *ueyorq puv SIM /4899,, lq Aq aN aN “CIN PUB NI 3B Arey SAR A woy Suraout spnoyo uch ” » \ANIN Aq NI aC LACK: | M ” N M ‘ary pue ‘stvodde uoout *4\ wor Apnoig | ag ” N » S A wow] PROTO JO WNIBYS JOMO] B ‘Wd p IV AAS Wo, pnojo WYSIT * ga [reus ee ike MS ” 9 er ee ee Wd | els OS Pe Teo tae tS AS ayeBIOpoul MN “1vaq9 Pe eeeeeres “IUSIT MSM # "MOTT SUUVNA ‘spno[g | ‘Sueng | «spuray ‘bsg ‘aratsary *) *y Ag ‘aansnpour ‘pee 07 420% ‘29g wolf ‘yL0xX-mayy fo hjro ayy un apoyy SNOLLVAUASAO TVOIONOIONOALAN 7 TIAX WIAV.L ‘TUL WE JO TIporpuNy 9uo oY UTA oBINI08 ans 0} B peveenp st yor “queut snfpe oy} Ut Joy popraord w2eq Suravy yt ‘Ayreyidea yo yunos0v uo Arwss8990u poulloep st ouOU pUe ‘selue oY) UI opLut "T 91 OF SB Oqn} OY} Jo IB} YY Jovory ‘weyuaryey .39 Jo omperoduioy 4 0g 3 iy payenp pun ‘sos oy JO [aay poumnsoid oy) oaoge yooy ua} qnoqge st ree OY} JO U1O}SIO OL], ‘uonwunrxordde Aq paploae ore JojouloULIey) OY) Jo soaifep yo SUOTJOVI, OUT, PF EOL RTE | G*€1)6" 89/61 Of" OW : 5 aN “Aurer pue Apnoya M ” ” 2] 89/80° or “ary ‘urex pue Apnoyo ‘areg |, vy _ | ‘oyBtepour aN GL| 02)00°0€ 9 ‘1oyenb owes] MSUQ GIN 9] WOT PHOS UTVI MOT B YIM “ON WoIF YSody puIM ‘UTeI prey Cyc ye fcT°¢ ye Apnopo fey mata ysey ,, | ANN MN] 2d} 92/86°6/"W ‘dS M § 4q M LL | M ‘ayerepouly =MASM tL} GL/c0° ol “ABBo5 pare APOD | yy eS 97 ty foo" HY 9 ‘ i “¥SUq AA AS @L| L9\8T° ot STGISIA UOOUL + AA WOH ysisq puvUury? spnojo —,, 2» 14 May. ” ” GL}. SOFT" 8 99 94 ” 1 ” ” GL; 89IGT* 9 ‘Apnop is, ” a ” ” TZ} 89|€t° ¥ ‘Aurer puv Apnolg ” ” ass GL) S896I° |W 'ds “03°GT 48 UreL ” a ay ga 8 TZ} 69/€8" ét “Apnoy) ” ” ASS GL} 69/96" ot 8 ‘ “UsYOIg puB UIY} spno[D M ae $8 TZ| 99/8%° 8 “Apno[y M syaq -) AGN | 1) P9\cs 9 “e. 172 TABLE XVIUl. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS : ig at pete pe Ct., at intervals <= 4 an hour, for 49 su ¢ hours, org ae at 6 ay ‘ vee the 20th of Sept, ee 8 6, and ending at M. of th ta. 41° 17 58” NV; ee 72° 57 46” W from Greenwich: according to merican Almanac, 1836. By E. C. Herrick and J. D. WHELPLEY. . oo 8 und _ og o On| = g i 5 g 3 E §| Wind. REMARKS. 62 | 2/8 56 to mai cakel by a belt of cirro-cumulus where the winds mix, curiously ing 1n intricate bed but all finally drifted from W to E. 20 23 No cloud on or oe nase oe but a great glare 10 or 15 degrees round it. 21 0 Great cirro-c over the mountain. 21 10 Nocloud on 6a va, boars goa erat white glare. 22 30 Rather less white glare about sun. No cloud near. 22 55 Cirrus a ‘off, but another approaches, and rapidly increases in size and density. A general formation of cirro-cumuli sed on. 23 0 ig y of blue sky, ‘Eggenes in SE, Wind aloft feeble, NW. ariable, from Nand S alternately. Sun too much aoaied for Booms 0 0 U per babi feeble NW. Cirro-cumuli in great masses, distributed tt ye ut S and SE quarters. @ 21 Cirri neer, but not mpl sun. Actinometer gave 33.75 when the edge of a 1 0 Clouds in and poles Sesiith. Sun clouded. Wind, for the last hour, in gusts 1 50 Sky cling py as the gusts freshen from the SE, and the lulls grow frequen 0 less fr 2 0Re t of NW and SE winds. The = sweeps over the flats, A ott the poe per- sists in driving r the low Serves f the T. moun- tain as far as Constantia, bein sais tenes oe pour over the main bank and at ie d the peak of the Devil mountain. 3 0 The NW clou in huge cottony bales ever “thie lower parts of the Ta- ble range. rapes a = of elear blue parallel to the range; ap vi a belt of fine sethechated cirro-cumulus, through —— western edge the “en, viewe “ through the dicoerst glass, appears encircled with a double 410 The ee W ce eo moa now thickly overcast, and finely mackarelled banks, with cirrus, are drifting E and 8, high above level of the poe ong a obscured. 0 Clouds advancing thick and rapidly from W. Devil and Table mountains 0 Clouds still hi gh, but threaten rain. 5 —— of a “yello owish rainy appearance. They move very slowly, more CoO NH OF 0 Sky. cleats pot idly. Moon’s dark limb most distinet. 0 Perfectly clear starlight. Stars in 20ft. refl. beautifully defined and tranquil. 181 TABLE XXT. METEOROLOGICAL. OBSERVATIONS For the March Equinox, = made at poten atm near Wyn- berg, C T.) rec- . (M. ad e Day and hour as- ——— 68.3 | 58.4 | 0.10 70 0 | 58.5 | 0.25 pe of Good H By Sir J Eat w. he te eee -Actinometer.| Wind. g . rE ; = 2s. | 2 F ret On a . Dry. | Wet. | 3 © £¢E z Pa) Ei Be|ese Elgeles 62.0 60.8 eee? @eeee . WwW 0 SSE G16 7 B81 0 lesacceat ON. 1 SSE 7001 Bh GB a | ge Pe if yf SE O48 1 SE3 1 0 licccee of LO 0 CGO) O08 | Oo hi encae 0 vr: 3 || Zangnaee 2Z2<83| Ti1 | 0.8 tractiosiie 71.5 | 59.5 | 0.5 | faint gleams. 69.0 | 59.8 |15.25'gleams, 71.0 | 59.2 |25.301In clear mome’t 68.2 | 57.1 | 30 | Estim. 64.9 | 56.0 | 25 | Estim.| —— WNW 5} 63.1 | 55.8 ets GSB) S668 | sich ieces si BW SW MOON occ slecesscs]| OW 61.0 } 53.1 61.3 | 53.8 | 61.0 | 53.1] .....[..00. .| —— | § Le ER g ee eee Eee TOS isevel wck st. seas BE TPS bicidiccecal W Ww 2 gt So ee agers 60:2 | 68.31... eS See ee oc croo won S&S £2 6 G&G oa & Co 6 comnmoor! oooHHHowl PS WR eR ROR ee BRR ROR RR Dido r . *. 182 TABLE XXII, (ConTINUED.) are freed from instrumental error, the zero corrections bein (WL ®) "pauoy -oa1 Aypeotmou0d |-#B Inoy pus seq ‘ojouloulsey) b queIpey “won 3 “BIPBI [BISO119,], *Ays onyq Jo Ay COMRINGO AORMORH -tuenb poyeunsg - ‘WIOT |) COSDOCHAR FARR OO S = te Fs ‘uoooldg | $ 23 MET l fs te n a "eA ee ee g dojo own, ‘3 5 OSmercoge =| is i ee Smet iiiiii; SRsees < ees tS rte —# < v2 be SoMa raraew Kets oe nee eg & |SS38855 SSSS855 ee B [geneeen neases a eG SSSERE RERR *‘sajomoreg ur AL) SSS QQSS 394493 “noiou jo ‘due, | 8855555 BSSS55 : $2 TRO ee NOo°or soy esos |ESSESSS FREES |RRARRAR RRRRARR ‘OE8T coo,7oootoo oooo § SARA onan en g e- ho he thermometer.) which Royal So- d thermometer of the f observation has been ascertained to be the Royal Ob- h, “sh +h 1 J t of the station o ight (within a foot or two) 115 servatory, whose p b ieati : i eS The he 7 ter to a standard by Ne hh £, s standard, by a to its all applied. _The barometer is brought to ty’ earincas ciety. t 20 faot feet above the floor of the mY 1 th hk + 183 REMARKS ACCOMPANYING TABLE XXII. h. 17 “0 The morning dull and dark. py, 2h rain had — in _— night. : 18 30 No ee = of rain: all things looking brig sout 19 0 Clouds nab, ‘at least 3,600 feet, as neither the Table nor Devil gr 20 0 ‘i = a hitherto obscured, now occasional gleams. March 2 O0A ‘ay of conflicting winds, which (as usual in this dereniy) seule rapa * ferences by conference or contest over the summit of th ble poet es ee over its easte = on which shia Set is ueeends dart the 2ist are mere estimations of the solar heat, in occasional teres ae the subsequent hour, grounded on long experience mee of the 9 0 The ‘radiant the acheter was a small and extremely delicate thermometer by d wards. The eight proved unfavorable for the obser vation, and the day following th On the whole, ~— is little to be regretted, the nature of the observation being such a I should observe, that there is no Slaee tage in the usual form of parabolic reflector of silvered copper used in angle of nearly 180 degrees at the ther iho esi pio tig surface o of cata from its great brillianey and ar ter re pre rei ie (even eof estimated ye gine gel ‘a righ t 130 Sky dull, though clear of all visible = none on the mountain. Defini- tion of stars in the twenty feet reflector good. 14 0 Clouding ‘attained th from er ean by & a sheet of dense cloud, sone 0” 0 ( wine to the pressure of other business, the actinometer could not be ob- served before this evil bes the sky has never been suffici — ntly clear Bor irro rizon. 1 0 Much visible ci h increasing, and diminishing momentarily. i consequence, extremely variable. Three sheervations gave 6381, 30.0, as the haze ually cleared. 2 0 Variable wind, or rather alterna te gentlo breezes from NW and § or SW: prertige e however, the former prevails. (N. B. This was the first cyaiptals north-wester, ~ brought heavy rain about 6 P. M. next re! 83, trong cirrous veil over the sun. 3 4 Stro 4 0 Sun very dull, and getting low. 5 0 Sun pretty clear, but too low for convenient observation. foie are :. % oe ee yi ee NOTE, It has been thought advisable to reprint the ng aed ‘* Explanation of the er and construction ss the Actinometer, by Sir John F. W. Herschel, F. S.” from the a e Third Meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Scien This is an instru ment invented by Sir J: F. oe te, ‘for measuring at h Eo of the sun is put in monieions = a cooling infaense of exte ? with an intensely blue liquid. Into the interior of this, the calorie rays e, win an th otal of heen iy ot so that the! is heat- wit d th (not stopped by ct to make an dilate the contents, and ai din producing that effect. T’o make an observation with the y Se nan as wer ae hantrainetis must be freely exposed in the to sunshine fo ” same time, the tion again noted: and lastly, once more, in the sha The a of the two variations in the shade being subduct- ed from. the acerart in the the excess gives the dilatation per minute due to the sun’ wos ys; the quantity ‘s0baueted being the effect of the other causes in ac- tion at the tim ‘The Actinomeser, as used by Sir John Herschel, is made and sold by Mr. Robinson, optician, Devonshire-street, Portland-Place, ” London.” ART. X.—Report of the Committee appointed to continue the Mz- TEOROLOGICAL OssERVATIONS, on the 2\st of March, June, September and December, Containing hourly observations of the Barometer, Thermometer, Winds, Weather, &c. made at different places on the 21st and 22d of December, 1836—and meteorological tables from Illinois, Flo- rida, New-York City, Albany, Montral, Quebec, L. C. and Am- sterdam in Holland. [Accepted March 2, 1837.] In compliance with the resolution of “the Institute, the commit- tee on meteorology present the following REPORT. More than a year has elapsed since it became known in this country, that the South African Literary and Philosophical Insti- tution had, on the suggestion of Sir John F. W. Herschel, deter- mined to set apart four days in each year to be devoted to a most scrupulous and accurate registry of the state of the barometer and thermometer; the direction and force of the wind; the quantity, character and distribution of clouds, and every other particular of . weather throughout the whole 24 hours of those days, and the ad- joining 6 hours of the days preceding and following, reckoned as- tronomically. And to recommend a similar determination to me- teorologists in every part of the world, with a view to _ better determining of the laws of the diurnal changes taking atmosphere, and to the obtaining of a ciaulotre of the gee Ti spondence of its movements and affections over great regions of the earth’s surface or even over the whole globe. The days fixed 1 7, 186 upon were the 21st of March, the 21st of June, the 21st of Sep- tember, and the 21st of December, being those or immediately ad- joining to those, of the equinoxes and solstices, in which the solar influence is either stationary or in a state of most rapid variation. But should any of those 2ist days fall on Sunday, then it will be understood that the observations are to be deferred till the next day, the 22d. The observations at each station should commence at 6 o’clock, A. M. of the appointed days, and terminate at 6 o'clock, P. M. of the day following, according to the usual reckoning of time at the place. During this interval, the barometer and ther- mometer should be read off and registered hourly, or at all events at intervals not more than two hours asunder, and the precise hour and minute of such reading should be especially noted. Impressed with the belief that the adoption of a similar deter- mination on the part of the Institute would tend to spread a know- ledge of the design, and secure an extensive co-operation through- out our country, a committee of its members having made the best preparations in their power, made the suggested observations on _ the 21st of December, 1835, at the apartments of the Institute. — The record of these observations, together with a brief notice of the plan, was published and generally distributed, and the request made at the same time, that those who were willing to unite with us should communicate their observations. The result has proved that our expectations were well founded. Immediately on this publication, we had the pleasure to learn that simultaneous obser- vations had been made by John S. McCord, Esq. an officer of the Natural History Society of Montreal, who has been unwearied in his efforts to establish new stations throughout the British Pro- vinces. The succeeding appointed days have been observed at numerous and distant points of our country, and the Transactions of the Institute contain, in addition to those made at the apart- ments of the Royal Society of London, and by Sir John Herschel near the Cape of Good Hope, which were reprinted from the Lon- don Athenzeum, observations made at Albany, Montreal, Quebec, Flushing, L. I., New-York city, Middletown and New Haven, Conn.; Williamstown, Mass.; Baltimore, Maryland; Cincinnati, Ohio; Gardiner, Maine; and Burlington, Vermont. As showing not only the feeling with which our co-operation has been receiv- ed abroad, but for the important suggestions made by Sir John Herschel, the committee beg leave to incorporate with their re- # 187 port, the following extract of a letter received from him by the secretary of the Institute: ‘* Feldhausen, near Wynberg, — Cape of Good Hope, Sept. 30, 1836. “ Sm—lI have just received, through the favor of the Secretary of the Royal Society, the meteorological observations made at the Albany Institute on the 21st and 22d of December, 1835. I am truly rejoiced to find this readiness of co-operation at a station of so much importance, and I beg that you will return my best thanks, personally as well asin the name of the institution here, over which I have the honor for the present to preside, and to which your communication has been made, to the president and council of your institution and especially to the committee of its members who have undertaken with such alacrity and performed with so much apparent care, the somewhat harrassing observations requi- red. We will indulge the hope that they will be continued on succeeding occasions and communicated in like manner, and I have no doubt when one or two years’ observations shall have thus ac- cumulated from the now numerous and continually increasing sta- tions which have placed themselves in correspondence with us, that from their comparison, results of a general and important na- ture will not fail to arise. ‘Permit me to suggest, that in continuing the observations un- til an opportunity shall occur of ascertaining by direct or interme- diate comparison with some standard of authority, the zero point of the barometer, (or by instituting some direct inquiry into the absolute length of the mercurial column, by actual measurement, ) it would be desirable that the same instrument should be employ- ed, (unless there be reason to fear that in transporting it from its usual place its zero should change,) and that any opportunity which may occur of comparing it with other barometers should be seized. “Tn addition to the observations heretofore made, that of the temperature of the soil at 6 or 8 feet below the surface, or of the water at the bottom of a deep well, which would give very little additional trouble—as one or two observations on each day would suffice—would be valuable as leading by the shortest course to a knowledge of the mean temperature of the station. The committee now present the observations made by Sir John Herschel in June, and those of the 21st of December last, which have been sent to the Institute; abstracts of meteorological regis- 188 ters at Springfield, Illinois, from Dr. Meade; and Key- West, Flo- rida, from Lieut. Alvord, U. 8. A.; a communication from Wil- liam C. Redfield of New-York, one of our corresponding members. containing the results of his daily meterological observations for the years 1835 and 1836; an abstract of meterological observa- tions made in the city of Albany during the year 1836 by M. H. Webster; meteorological register of Mr. McCord of Mon- treal; a statement of the annual means and extremes of the ba- rometer and thermometer at Cape Diamond, Quebec, by J. Watts, superintendant of telegraphs in Canada, for several years; and a similar statement of the annual means and extremes of the barome- ter and thermometer at Amsterdam, in Holland, from G. A. Van- dervoort of that city. With regard to the horary observations on the 21st of Decem- ber, the committee regret that those made at Cincinnati, Middle- town, Baltimore and Burlington, have not yet been received.— And this is the more unfortunate, as the period embraced in it was characterized by the termination of a very extensive inland storm, and would furnish more precise data with regard to its movement than have hitherto been collected. Of this storm, the following additional particulars derived from the newspapers are deemed worthy of being here brought together: At New-Orleans, at 2 P. M. of the 20th Dec., a southerly storm, accompanied by a heavy shower of rain. In the evening a strong gale blew from the north. At Natchez, the barometer had been falling from the the 18th, on which morning it was 30.10, until the morning of the 20th, when it stood at 29.64; at 4 P. M. the ther- mometer was falling and the barometer rising; in the morning there had been showers, thunder and rain; in the afternoon it was windy and clear; the wind changed from S. in the morning, to 5. W., W. and N. W. in the afternoon.—.Mr. Tooley’s met. reg. At Cincinnati on the 20th between 11 and 12 A. M. it began » to rain, with a strong wind blowing from 8. E. The thermome- ter rose to 51° and the barometer fell in a few hours from 29-27 to 28.73. About 9 P. M., a little more than an inch of rain having fallen, the thermometer still standing at 51° the wind shifted sud- denly to the S. W. and W. 8S. W. and a rapid change commenced. The rain ceased, the winds blowing in strong gusts with 4 little snow, amounting in all to less than a tenth of an inch; until oF 189 2lst at 8 A. M. the thermometer had fallen 40° in 11 hours, and stood at 11°. The barometer had risen in the same time nearly an inch.—Prof. Locke in Cincinnati Gazette. At Buffalo, there was during the night of the 20th, a tremen- dous gale from the westward. At Rochester a severe gale in the afternoon from S. E., veering round to W. during the night. These particulars, together with those contained in the annexed tables, respect a storm extending over a distance of more than 2000 miles. All of which is respectfully submitted. M. H. WEBSTER, Pp. TEN EYCK, JOHN V. L. PRUYN, HORACE WEBSTER, Committee. 190 oroydsoune Azey ‘AystpL @eesleves eeee I I MN S°Sh | t'6h | oves | ehttos | o z@1 | et "spnoyo 0 I PAN tae OCCT ee ee ee 0°6S 8PL*OS O 04) St snotasoduit yt “seo 0 Seite Pees eesti eere coorieene ween L° LF 9°8P | 0°6S Z9L*OR 0 OL {I -I9A0 Ays—So} YOryy, 0 0 ; Soee we eeeleoses asesieeee sees I’ LP C° RP @°9¢ @Sl° oe | 0 6 OL ‘aroydsounye Azey ‘AYSTIAT 8 calie seer beselesee ceeelenae sone 8° LP L°6P G'g9¢ @SLT‘Ok 5 3 6 OL 0 eeeseaeee eeseeeeeaen eeee @e@eee L°6P O° IS ¢°9¢ ISL°O8 0 ZL 8 . 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The abstract of observations from my private journal now sub- mitted to the Institute, is a continuation of those reported to the honorable Regents of the University, on the 22d of January, 1835.* The following tables exhibit the result of the observations on the direction of the surface winds, and also of the more elevated or main atmospheric current, as indicated by the highest observed movement in the region of clouds. PDiesoeionof tse sci Windle St cree i Soe eas ne ea St | of clouds. Sele: ore ae $.8 | 8 s S. Abstract of observations for the g2 | soi 803 Es Le Sj Bai es aime a2 | ae| cel cil ofl oF! SF eS ce ms |B3| ee \|22| 83 | 23 24 5 5° gs gS €8) 68 g.5 g e fe Ve ete ie January, seccee .eeee-| 524] 15 | 453] 39 0 | 90; 12 February, ....+-...+-| 40 | 34] 483) 44 0 | 85113 March, «000. ..+++00+/ 443] 15 | 483] 424]1 33 | © | 61 ai April, cessesveeeceess| 274] 24 | 374/ 45 || 10 | 01 491 43 May, secocesceducce «| S58] 2831200 ESE 6 1 | 24 | 834 JUNE, cecoes coteeceesl| 10-1 2441-673 264); O 0} 31 | 67 DAY, 00s de oo sees] - 81 184-87 19 10 5 | 72 | 28 AUZUS, cevsee séeeés «|° 183], 930-75 354'| 54) 4 | 76 | 263 September, ..........| 203] 203] 633 353/1 3| 8 | 65 | 194 October, .....5esce0:| 293] 243] 75 13 1 0 | 79 | 18 November, ..........| 224! 12 | 604] 45 6] 2) 61 | 39 December,;..........| $1 |; 3 1.50 }- 66 0| O| 54] 60 Ann. results for 1835, .|346 |1924!71831434 534) 20 |747 |4234 Proportion in 1,000,...!205 1113 1425 1257 || 43 | 16 |600 |341 —————————————e————eeeeee Sd On examining these results it will appear that the prevailing wind or natural current of the atmosphere, is from the the south- west quarter, as I have shown on a former occasion; and this re- sult is rendered more obvious by the fact that our south-westerly winds are of a more equable and current-like character than gyratory and stormy winds which generally blow from other quar- ters of the horizon. Annual report of the Re nts of the Uni : . ture of the State, 1835. Silliman’s Journal, vol xxviy pia of New-York to the Legisla- 211 The total of. eT, oon obsérved for the year, as appears ° from the above table, is 538. Total of westerly winds 1,152. The —* of westerly winds in 1,000 is 682; or more than two to The Seieaiaance of the westerly wind at the surface is, how- ever, less striking than that of the upper current; the observations of which result as follows: easterly 733, westerly 1,170. The proportion of westerly observations in 1,000 is 941; the prevailing current being from the south-western quarter. Direction of the tig tages eee of highest clouds in periods of four hours. in periods of hours RE a poke Me ae a Be a ee Be we gg a Ee Bi | Ei | BE] B2| Eni! S| ES oe oe) fel oe) cell ee) fe! Se) oe esl gel e"| e562) gs) 2] 68 e (6 (ee Te pe lee January, coos seseaees| S54) 7 | 324) 51 8 | O]| 61 | 23 February, ....e++ e+} 50 | 14) 25 | 613])) O| O 31 Mateli, occ cee ‘as eds cof 26 -| 273} 6S |°30 3 0 | 95 | 22 April, ..ccee eeese seeees 224 364 42 36 4 0 554 584 May, .ccecevsesscses| 52-[ 28 | 544] 134]| 5 | O | 94 | 248 JUNE, wccccesccsesece| 72 | 243] 31 | 10 || 37 6 15 Fuly; wccccocssccsces| 53: 4:10 O74 14 1 22 1) Behe Au ugust, @eeestpeeeeseeoeve@ 2834 164 59 35 6 0 36 14 September, ...0.+....| 57 | 204] 474| 20 || O | 4 | 69 | 28% October, ..cceeceeeee| 27 | 54] 664] 433]| 4] O | 564] 40 November, .....seee-| 24 | 163} 49 | 50 6 | 54) 524] 404 December, ...- ossse{ 11 | 21 | 59 | 494/} O | O]| 88 Ann. results for 1836, .]4784/224 |596 |4143)/ 95 | 183/806 13574 Proportion in 1,000,...|279 |131 |348 |242 |] 744] 144/631 |2s0 _ ciusacianinetinalieniinatamennamadcnnmbenmnaettaieas The total observations of easterly winds for the year 1836 are 692; total of w voy winds 1,010. The proportion of westerly winds i in 1,000 is strong and regular winds from the eastward, with a high state of the barometer so cloudy weather, having ibeciienti occurred during the summ The great ars Be of the eres current from the west- ward would, however, be more apparent, were it not that the ob- served clouds which move from the eastward, usually belong to the 212 stratum of surface wind, and conceal the regular movement of the clouds which float at the same time in the only observed movement of clouds, is necessarily set down to the upper current, though actually pertaining to the surface wind. e upper current, and the Table of the monthly mean height of the barometer in English inches, for each of five daily observations during the year 1835. 1835. 6 A. M. | 10 A. M. 2 P. M. 6 P. M. 10 P. M. Monthly mean. Jantary is bs cwsee February, .... 2. ar Cc gr reee seoees April, cesese seeesene 30.160\30.203': 30.152/30.175'30.161 30.140 30.176 30. 122/30, 162 80.202 30.161 30.182 30.141130.158' 30.186 30.214! 30. 125 30.133 30.148 30.114): 80.185 30.176 30.112 30.122 30.133 December, .....« -|30.165'30.210 20.1 30.164 30.186 30.175 Annual results,.... i30. 1 16'30.139 ne ned te SP LON SS S aenne oer 30.107’ 30.106, 30.131 30.119 mse Table of the pei mean height of the barometer - sath of free aily observations during the year 1836 1836. 6 A. M. 10 A. M. 2P. M. 6P. M. 10 P. M. Mor.thly mean, ps Oa PeUruary, occ, ases ne ea Sa fy ae soeeee Shi sti saas Septcaiber, bis oléisxi' Getobers ike secu 3 November, ....... December, ....... 30.148/30.166 30.189'30. 200/30 30.184/30.218 30.140 172 30.191 30.205/30.234'30.197 30.107|30.139 30.104/30.133 30.065/30.081 30.102 30.154 30.166 30.170 30.195 30.156 30.184 30.195 2p .907 30.113 380.060 30.108 30.112 30.063 30.116)/30.182 30.157/30.180 30.082 30.110 30.088 30.123 30.214'30.228 30.122 30.116 © 30.154 30.069 80.157 30.093 30.079 30.214 2(1).949 30.098 29.931 | pe eee Annual results (*eeeeeeeeeataceencinnnannsnnnnnnnnn 30.138,30.162 | 30.134 30.129 30.150 30.143 mene 213 Table showing the monthly range of the barometer for the years. 1835 and 1836. 1835, 1836. Monthly | Monthly |Range Monthly | Monthly |Range um | maximum imum | January, .oevee sees eeee| 30.68] 29.40/1.28]| 30.68) 29.48)1.20 February,....++s++se02| 30.67) 29.71] .96)| 30.78] 29.55)1.23 March, ...se0e sees cree] 30.75) 29.31)1-44/| 30.70) 29,50)1.20 April, ..sececcecesesee| 30.41) 29.19)1.22 30.67} 29.73] .94 May, a pesos sees aesece 30°52) 29.74! .78!| 30.43] 29.66 Su 6 a June, ocos coos ceeeecee| 30.58} 29.55/1.03]| 30.29) 29.83) .46 July, sso atvece,.caeece|, 30.82 29.82) .50)| 30.39) 29.68) .71 August, ..+- eeesecnseee| 30.29 29.80) .49]| 30.36] 29.82} .54 September, .-.e+. seee+| 30.53] 29.45/1.09)/ 30.39) 29.58] .81 October, .ecccessseeses| 30.48] 29.60| .88|| 30.50] 29.50)1.00 November, ......++se++| 30.60) 29.19)1.41}| 30.67) 29.60)1.07 December, .....++- +++) 30.67] 29.70) .97|| 30.80) 29.42/1.38 Annual results, .......-| 30.75} 29.19/1.56|! 30.80) 29.42)1.38 The mean of the barometrical observations for 1835 and 1836, as deduced from the above tables, is 30.131 inches. The barometer used in 1835 and the early part of 1836, was of the solar construction, and no allowance has been made for ca- pillarity or variation of level in the cistern. The calibre of the tube is estimated at .28 inches, and the relative areas of 8 cross sections of the tube and cistern as 1 to 30. The scale was ad- justed by measurement with common boxwood instruments, bier is deemed to be a little too high above the cistern, and uently reading off a little too low. Since May, 1836, the observations were taken from a new Kevcinavats constructed by Roach, under special directions, which has a glass cistern surrounding the bot- tom of the tube, with solid oun bottom which shows the level of the mercury in the cistern and the point of zero adjustment, and which is not subject to the variations in the adjustment which re- sult from a flexible bottom of soft leather. The mercury was boiled in the tube, and the measurement was carefully made on trouble of this correction. The instrument was graduated at a dempers ture of about 68° Fahrenheit, and the relative capacities * The apparent discrepancy between the reruns D 2 paren observations made in India- and adage which I have formerly co ced by Mr. Owen in Silliman’s Journal, . 295, is fully accounted for by the different height of the two places of observation abavets the level of the sea. 214 of tube and cistern are as Ito 40. The position of the cistern is ete bably within ten feet of the mean level of the tide in this harbor. To the extreme ranges by this instrument, as noted in the tables, should be added the variations of level in the cistern, which are as 1 in 40. It is, however, to the special variations of the barometer during extraordinary phases of weather that we must look for the most interesting and important generalizations; and these cannot find place in such a summary of observations as is now presented. It is important to the cause of science that a series of barometrical observations should be made at certain hours, daily, at several points in the frontier counties and in the centre of the State, and t lakes and of the St. the physical influences of the rotative action must have here produced the greatest degree of depression in eter, and this effect must have become storm progressed regularly in an easterly or northeasterly direc- tion, and from the phases of the wind, it is inferred that its centre of rotation passed over Lake Ontario, and not greatly distant from Quebec. 1e induction from the geographical direction an changes of the wind, and from the observations of the barometer in this case, seem mutually to strengthen each other. On the 3d of January, 1837, the barometer at Montreal fell to 28.77, under a heavy storm, which commenced the afternoon pre- ceding. At Albany the barometer fell to 28.98 with a slight fall of snow. At New-York the barometer only fell to 29.37, wind at and WSW. From all which it would appear that the centre of this storm must have traversed the basin of the St. Lawrence. On the 2}st of January, 1837, there occurred at New-York a severe gale from NE by E, with rain and snow, which veered by N during the night, to the north-westward on the 22d, having ex- hibited the usual phenomena of rotative storms. Under this storm the barometer fell to 28.80 at 10 P. M., which is the lowest ob- servation which I have yet made in this city. At Albany the storm was also severe, and the barometer at 11 P. M. sunk to 28.94, the wind also veering, by N during the night, to NW on the 215 peel ye of the 22d.* From these data it would appear that this m was of large extent, and that its centre of rotation passed = a : dite which lays to the seaward of the city of New-York. will be supplied, in part, by voluntary reports from pram in different parts of the State. Reports of like character, and also 0 winds, from some points in the Canadas, and in the western States, are also deemed a desideratum, ape would, doubtless be thankful- ly acknowledged by the Institut New-York, February 25, 1837. Abstract of a register of the barometer and hygrometer kept in the city of Albany during the year 1836, by Matthew Henry Webster, Corresponding Secretary of the Albany Institute. A desire to contribute in some small degree to a knowledge of the atmospherical phenomena, exhibited in our city, induced me to commence with the past year a register of the barometer, ther- mometer, &c. which was continued “with considerable regularity. The situation, however, in which I was obliged to expose my in- struments, was.so much affected by radiation from neighborin walls, which at the same time afforded an almost perfect shelter from northerly winds, as to render the results given by the exter- nal thermometer of little value: they have therefore been left out of this statement. But as these circumstances do not affect the dew point, the monthly mean of the morning and evening, and of both observations, the maxima, minima, range, and the degree of moisture on the hygrometric scale, in which 1,000 represents the term of saturation, are given in the following _ table. Months. Mean of | live. 9 A.M. 6 P.M. |observation| Max. | Min. |Range Scale. January, ..seese 18° 82 17° 86 18° 34 | 34° —3°| 37°] 756° to November,......| 30 12 | 32 29 | 31 20 |....|...-|...-} 762 * For these, and other valuable observations iy Be tay indebted to Mathew Henry Web ster, Esq., corres corresponding secretary of the Albany Institute - 216 These observations were made in January and February, with one of Daniell’s hygrometers, which was only graduated to 3°, and thus for many successive days the temperature of the dew point being below that point, the results above given are too high. During the other months a capsule hygrometer, on the plan of Pouillet, was employed. is agreed well with Daniell’s on com- parison, and seems to me a preferable instrument, as being less li- able to be broken and requiring less ether. Having unfortunately . been broken in December, enough observations were not made in that month to warrant the calculation of means. But on several occasions Ng spec ig obtained at —10°, which was the lowest point of the instrum The barometer peo is of the ordinary = gnnstrapbons with a leathern bottomed cistern, in which, however the adjustment for zero is made previously to each anarenien. by a aalcats ivory float, resting upon the surface of the mercury of the cistern, which is thus open to the air; the 30 inches were measured from the standard scale in the office of the Secretary of State. By an intermediate comparison with that employed by Mr. Redfield, of N. York, it requires a correction of -.04 of an inch. The tube is well filled, and exhibits the electric light in the vacuum cham- ber, i is .16 inches in is added for capillarity. tal scale, and the ter, and the constant correction of .044 ometer is on the me- given in Daniell’s meteorological essays The therm table has been followed in reducing the observations to the temperature of 32°. The elevation of the cistern above low water mark of the Hudson river, is 64 feet. The following table shows the monthly means in the morning and rene the mean of the observations, the maxima and minima and ra 1836. 9 A. M. | 6P. M. Mean. | Maximum} Minimum | January, .cosseces April, ssceeeceees OY A J0H6, ic Siep de secé July, wove ccowvece August, i. secces September, .....+. OStObe So ees ed November,.....0. December, ......+|30.178 30.274 | 30,242 30.258 ~) ww} 29.696 30.828 29.630 30.006 30.159 30.168 80.690 Means, .... . 2/80. 1217 30.071 30.1018'3 828 The barometer is exposed on the exterior of the house, under cover of a wooden shed. 217 ‘3 . Se bi k ox} or “Buoy $8 3doy St 0383 mous oy, | “papiodai sromgnuow clayyo ahep Gr sa a “re riprscel gem Gunes a joe Ap 7% 4qu0 ¢ ‘TH + “Sarguid » L8°Sh|S9" LL. 06°61 | | | | | a) | |b OF 066’ 6% ce? A. | PRS Srj09" 11h" **° ayrgl ees fa bg ezelensilea-9 Bulk c 6 |00° loo: aoe: ***"100°8.0S°S| 60°81: 996°63)* “99d + OPST"S (09°S |100°S**** |**** lon s'cz°81.G24°9 |00°S|0S'S8 |00°S 0S" "P08" 00°T ****0g"¢ 'FG° TE 698° 68)" “AON S°Tg"*** SS" [loo Sess? 1s** 1gz- He F1,0G'O1|0S°Si0S "01 00° "8/08" POS" |°°**\00°€/00' 11, L8° 68/686" 63l"* “90 S*GG|**** 160° liesrales** lez jae-Flo0'G jeL°91|/0S"%!00'°9 jog" "908° HES" 1/08" 18" 1/h8"S)\9h" Le L16°62|** “deg EG}"""" 1G6°S |iterstse**Siggst locFlcz's |GL'PT0S"S0e's |00° 400° 9)0¢" 0,00" @'08°0/00'F |G0" 89 GLB" 6B "aay OG|"""" OLS |itereteees lezee igg*zoo's |09'61\\s6' 0S'h |g8°609'F i400" [0S* 1P8"L 06 14,698" 6e|* ‘Aor GP|"*"" |S6"T [l***"log°o icz*% log*zios'6 |GL'FI}100° T|0S*@ (00° 6,00" "8/08" £)00°F/09" F 00" F):G% G9)F86*6S|* OUNL S°1p0S°O [04° |l****|***"tlez*o loo-sien's |0g'6 |l00°T/eL*F |0S'F £8"°0 0S" Osc: 109° [/F8 "6/68" SS10L8° 6% ey THSh"S |0S°0 loo" siss"Olies"O \SL'T0G°L |SG°LTI EE "FOS" 09°F'88"S £8" 0)58" O\PE "SE "8 |h%" SE 66°68! [Hey IviOr’ PI)" Teeseiz*** |**> log’ tio S16" PTO" 1199" L v8" LOS’ O9T"I)****|FE*T,00°S 106° 0% L06°63)* “2° Sv/SE'GII"**" les Sigs-o [GL TelGL" 1|GL°0T, G%°Sl|,00°S|0S"6 09°9,0E°T|**"*|*"*"|00° 10S" S]/e8* 11/496" 63)" * 4° 2 BROCE" TT 8e"4}°-7* | °°* Js" 0[s%"ET|00"0T}.00-g/09"4 joS"8)00°81"*** |os-0,05"Fj00° L|'¢0" Lil9be6o|** “URE nog g _ ‘ug | “Son | sys | wy | Ao | 0 a] MAN] “M | MS] 'S | GS] “a | ‘IN | ‘N ! Z z SS 3 03 ig at a c as 03 *youa Jo sAwp Jo saquiny “‘Burmoyq sAup Jo oquinyy 1 I : ah pa 4 ’ ® . gees] 8 *WHHLV AM. ‘ONIM S.2" & ? Y | *hqa1v0gt hsopsopy [Dt “MON? hanjotoag Surpuodsa..vog ‘G4OD.W *S “£20 ‘M1 6B BL “UOT Ne 08 (Gh “IVT wt ‘vppuvng samorT ‘wau.uopy yo yday ‘968l UOT UALLSIONN "TVOINOTONOALAN 218 Mean Pressure of the yeas corrected and reduced to 32° Fahrenheit, .....06 Sea . 29.920 Mean Temperature of the year, "being the | mean of ‘the maxima and minima taken by register thermometers,.. 40.43 Maximum height of the barometer during the Aree as December, 9 ey ert eecesesoees 30.5 Minimum, (14th December, 9 A.M. ) ieee eeesens 20: 000 es ily guid ep che cpupret AEERERERS SOTERA TT La a Warmest day, (9th July,).. 90° (mean of the 24 ewes. 79.75) Coldest day, (2d Pebruaty,)-19 Range of thermometer, .. 109° Number of days of westerly winds,.... ssscscesceecess 189.24 do Wo Sati ei en Oe ® do north GO =.55 fises Feesdcescds §=6OS-om do south OD eas teeil pe siscenes, COE Number of. dave ohmervedss 5.55 2 ce oes vive SOT N. B. The instruments used are all of the first description. The barometer, a standard mountain, by Newman. The register thermometers by “ges same, and ag ay with a standard by Adie & Son, Edinburgh. The rain Newman, after the one used by the Royal Society, Londo ak precaution is used in a placing of the instruments, which a residence in a city will ad- 219 “yoo],0 ¢ pue 3 F1uprar ye ydoory , "YIG] Jaqui999(q ‘mie Apne “Aavniqey ST “1OQWIDAON 6% 88’98 ‘0.19% MOl9q ,bZ— 6&6 $L9°62% OF" 83% &8°08 “PEST "N61 Asenuer "pez ounr “LOQUIDAON CT ‘Laquiavoq] L 16°98 ‘019% MO]Iq 0k — of 98 88° 6% 1h °83 S$" 08 "S88I "MPs Asvnagog “net Aine “19qQW909CT QT “Arenjgay Ol os*se ‘010Z MOI9qQ .SZ— 88 SEP" 6B 6° LB IP° 08 ‘SS8I "81% Asenuer ‘ure Ajoe ‘judy 6 ‘Aavnigeq PI 068 ‘o10z AO]9q .2e— <86 98°62 PS LZ are ‘IS8T 4stg Asenues 4ste Aloe youu 8 *Asvnigay L olP op oF6 09°63 00°83 &&° 08 ‘O8sTt ‘yp Arenuer "iisz Ar ‘roquiesaq] F 068 ‘0192 MOI9q .ge— o16 88° 6% ST°8% £908 “68ST *aFB19A8 10 UvOyY "WOMO] aout] *sayouyT 8aMO'y “yay Sip] |oBes9Av JO ULOY UVAA (‘sarequorqeg) ‘YA.LAWOWYAHLL “UDLAWOUVEa ‘Ne ‘ppourg ut sydvasajay fo juapuajuradng ‘Liv ‘pf Aq 4S/D0.129U2 noy 99.ty) 3D uayn) ‘oagandy ‘puowmge advg uo ‘asaydsowmjp oy) fo 010s savoh py Suq ‘suo A[yj}uoU (21) yy jo oSeroar oy) Wolf Udye} Orv suvow AjivoX oY T, ‘subaw Ajlep 94} Jo oSvioav oy) wo. uoye} ore suvom A[yUOW oY T, 61’ LE ‘MOPq eee of06 © | ES" 6% I1°8% 69°08 “‘UBOUI OUT, / "1g “99 pur ‘py ‘qa.q ‘ye Apne | : bane) IT ‘ACW cI eee *O19Z MO]Iq .9G— 086. 668 ° 66 GE"8s G8" 0€ 9881 y "Ulp Areniqa,y "eT ysndny | *r9qw1aA0 NT ol youre CB Ip‘ee ‘019Z MOl9q .OS— of 88 | 08° 6% 60°83 26 0€ "CEST “aBepl Jo o#eI0Ay *480M0°] ad: PPibeae so tivopt *OMO'T "yoy Spy ! os "UVA (Caaroquamqey) “WALAWOWUAHLL il ‘Ua. LAWOUVEA 221 Annual means and extremes of the barometer and thermometer, from observations made by G. A. VaNvERVOORT, at Amst erdam, in Holland, Lat. 52° 22' N. Long. 4° 53' E.. ‘ BAROMETER. } THERMOMETER, Years. Mean Max Min | Mean. Max. Min. 1830,' 755. TTY. 733. I 49.1 86.5 a 1832,| 758 775. 739. 50.0 78.5 23. 1833, | 758. 470% 729. 51.4 82.0 a7 1834,| 761.5 777. 735. 53.6 84.0 1 «: 1835,' 759.7 780. 728. 50.0 85.5 18. _ The height of the barometer i . given in Millimetres—the mean e 6 years reduced to English inches, is 29.838. The ther- mometer is graduated to the Fahrenheit, scale, and the mean of e 6 years is51°06. Humbolt gives the mean temperature 51°62 from 5 years observations of Mohr & Van Swinden. Art. XI. Table of Mean Temperatures, &c. deduced from the Re- ports of the Regents of the University—By Martuzew Henry WEBSTER. In the following table the first column contains the names of the different academies at which the observations were made, ar- ranged according to their respective latitudes, inning with the north; the 2d and 3d contain the latitudes and longitudes. as given in the reports, when these were ficient I have sup- lied them from the county maps in tit atlas. The 4th co- mn gives the saration above the supposed mean level of ‘the tide; these were also taken from the reports, and the deficiencies I have supplied from the best authorities to which I could refer, The next epi columns contains the mean temperature of each month. The 17th column contains the mean temperature of each place, as saved from the means of the months. The 18th co- lumn contains the mean temperature corrected for the error arising —— the hours at which the observations were made, w ich is ac- number of years for which observations have been made, and also the names of the years; the letter p, before a number, means that observations were only made during a part of that year, and the letter o, that no observations were made in the year before which it is placed. -1E,'d “QE-GGi "BOE"GH 1190" SHS" SeleF" 8E|09" Sh|80" 9gIV8" S9(36" 89° Le*S9|hO"SS|PB"Ch'BO"SE'Sh-BT(9C°GIy FEPT\ET LL 08 Ghir*tss wry TTT tar "G8. A “PE. “TIGT*OS |/Sb* Zt)|86" 9G|E6" BEIGE" OF bP" G9 6b" 99)/8S" G2 09° $9\S9° 9S) 16"OF Gh 9E 68° 2e|19"FE\| THOTIOS BZ 1g BPI" ** tte r++ tonntanundy * “PEE, 9 “GE-9G. “BIIP9' BP IIPZ°St|\20° ZB\TT" ZE|9b* Bh _LB*BS PG" S9|S0" L9 Ob°H9| Go" OSE Eb G8" ES EF" bE NL" GC}] OOTI|PO Sz LE ‘IME "08-60. 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Annuat ApDREss, deliter Ot 6 or th April 27, 1837, by MatrtHEw Henry ‘ TeRST GENTLEMEN: There isa vonuliain’ in the formation and constitution of the Institute, which while it presents, in my opinion, great and prominent advantages, at the same time occasions some em- barrassment in the selection of a suitable topic for r the present occasion. Our roll of members exhibits the names of indivi- duals drawn from almost every class of society, occupied in all the diversified pursuits that hold out the prospect of wealth and reputation to their followers, and that reflect back upon the community at large the benefits arising from well directed la- bor. We find no exclusive cultivators of any particular branch of science, and hardly one whose whole attention is devoted to its study. It is made up in fact of a few who, though deep- ly convinced that much good might result from an association of themselves for scientific and literary | purposes, have yet so many other and higher claims ee their ae. and attention, as to be compelled to make these s the. t of their leisure, instead of the aces ‘ecuyton of their lives. All of us possess a greater or less oqua vith the | outlines of the sciences of the rest, nor yet any i class, but the whole in their widest range. Our plan of operations does not restrict us to a narrow strip or portion of the domain of intellect, but embraces its whole extent. It is this magnitude of plan which gives to the Institute its distinctive character, and which has necessarily resulted from our social position. That minute di- vision of labor both in science and art which is every where seen in thickly peopled a a is hardly known among 226 us. In our larger cities some approach to it may be found, but the immense extent of country we possess not yet reclaim- ed from a state of nature, removes to a distance scarcely with- in the limits of calculation, the period when over-population shall be a theme of complaint to our statesmen and economists. And until that time shall arrive, we can scarcely expect that the principle of the division of labor will reach its full develop- ment. ‘To me this seems a matter of congratulation ; for al- though it may be strictly true that in the mechanic arts, high degrees of perfection can only be obtained by exclusive atten- tion to a limited department, yet it may well be questioned whether, if the lowest price at which this perfection can be ob- tained, be, as it is and must be the comparative destruction of the human intellect by reducing its possessor almost to the level of the machine he directs, it is not too dearly bought. With us, however, such a state of things is as yet far remote, and we are at liberty to enjoy the more agreeable task of spe- culating about its results, instead of being compelled to occupy ourselves in devising plans for the modification or removal of its inevitable consequences. And as in the mechanic arts, so in a limited aigree: is it true in the fine arts and the sciences, but only in a limited de- e. 'The mind of man is of a finer and more flexible cha- racter, than his physical organs, and while an entire and com- plete devotion to a single branch of these higher pursuits, if it were possible, would injure and weaken the instrument, in the exact proportion in which it should be thus confined, it would not tend to produce the greatest perfection. There is a close and intimate union of the different departments here which does not exist in those of an inferior rank, and which requires in him who aspires to eminence in any of its divisions, a great- er or less acquaintance with the whole. Improvement and perfection here, depend not upon manual skill and dexterity, but on the cultivation of the intellect. And he will be most likely to be successful in enlarging the boundaries of science, who possesses intellectual powers capable of taking the most extensive range, and which are least fettered by the empirical rules of the mere artisan. The argument from analogy then 227 is not strictly applicable to science, and only becomes so as we recede from those which are purely intellectual, and approach those arts which depend almost entirely upon physical skill. Too select an instance, with which my pursuits have made me familiar—the profession of the Law ; we find that in Eng- land it is composed of the attorney, the solicitor, the convey- ancer, the special pleader, and the barrister, exclusive of ex- tensive classes whose studies and practice are confined to the courts of civil law. Each of these is a distinct profession, se- parated by almost insuperable barriers, and the evils frequently arising from the ignorance of even eminent individuals, in all but one peculiar branch, are great and notorious.* Here, on the contrary, instead of this grave array, we have the lawyer, practising in all the courts, and discharging alternately, and often in the course of the same day, the appropriate duties of these different branches. He may not, perhaps, be as deeply skilled in chicanery and trick as is the English attorney, nor possess the same minute and accurate acquaintance with the laws respecting the transmission of property as the conveyan- cer, nor have acquired the classical learning and polished elo- * Chitty, in his late work on Practice, says: “ Recently a common law Barris- vised that there was no remedy whatever agai married woman who, having a considerable separate estate, had joined with her ead | ina promissory note for £2,500, for a debt of he r husband, because he was of opinion that the contract if a married woman is decal nse fe knowing, or forgetting, that in in equity, under such circumstances, payment might peice teri earthen separate estate. J And afterwards a . very eminent equity ap Rae OA od 2 “2 only in equity. d the fz { the vase, ‘as then del, pr ciel the ‘death of her r husband, the wife had — to pay, in poppers pes of forbearance, and upon é If the common law counsel had properly edvised p ding quity, or if the equity counsel had advised proceedings by arrest at Jaw, upon the promise after the death of the husband, the whole debt would have been paid. But, upon this latter ae a bill in Chancery was filed, and so much time elapsed before de- great part of the property was dissipated, and the wife escaped with resis. into France: and the caditon thus wholly doet his det, hich would second instance. This is one of the » Sirpniimerdiis cased alincit’ dilly edeuiciny, illustrative of the conseque uences of the want of at least a general knowledge of every branch of law.”—2d General Practice, 303, note (g.) 228 quence of the barrister, but what is far better, his intellectual powers have been enlarged and strengthened by a more com- prehensive course of study and discipline; and he is prepared not merely to discharge his duty toward his clients, but if oc- casion arise, to assume any of the numerous public stations which our institutions require, and to perform its functions with credit to himself and advantage to the commonwealth. The experience of every day furnishes additional proof of the truth of these remarks; and were we to cross the ocean, we should find that the most distinguished professional men even there, were those wl jui ts were most extensive, and whose studies had been the most varied. The different professions, the sciences and the fine arts would furnish similar illustrations : what has been said of one, might with equal truth be said of all. But whatever difference of opinion may exist as to the consequences or advantages of such a state, there can be none as to the fact, that however the case may be elsewhere, here we hardly know of division of labor, except in name. And what I consider the necessary conse- quence is every where apparent: there are scarcely any whose depth and accuracy of knowledge is so great as to be remark- able, but at the same time there is none of that entire and al- most brutal ignorance, which is by all admitted to prevail so extensively over the greater portion of Europe. The genial stream of knowledge is not here collected into wells and re- servoirs of limited extent and unfrequent occurrence, but of unfathomable depth, but is spread over the whole country in kindly rills, of depth sufficient to prevent their entire evapora- tion, and carrying every where nutriment and health. n such a situation of society, it was absolutely necessary, in attempting to found an institution for scientific purposes, to give to it a plan and object of great, one might almost say un- _ limited extent, in order thereby to ensure the union of a num- ber of individuals sufficient for its existence and continuance. Experience also, in our case, added her warning voice, and the union of two societies has shewn, that far more has been ac- complished by them jointly, than could, under the most favor- able circumstances, have been expected from their divided ef- forts. 229 An address to such a society, if confined to the discussion of questions arising under any individual department of science, however interesting to the speaker or a portion of his audience, could hardly be expected to fix the attention of the majority, or result in any definite good. It has, however, occurred to me, that I might profitably occupy the present occasion, with considering how we may individually best discharge our duty as members of the Institute. In doing this, even should I not advance any positions having the recommendation of novelty, I feel that I may at least claim the merit of having attempted, at a humble distance, to follow the example of the distinguish- ed individuals who have heretofore addressed you on similar occasions, in striving to give a practical character to what would else be a mere unmeaning display. In becoming members of the Institute, the only positive en- ement we make, is to contribute annually the sum of two dollars towards its funds; but I take it for granted that no one supposes that when he has done this, he has discharged all that can reasonably be expected from him. If such were the fact, and the like opinion should be entertained by all, it re- quires very little of the spirit of prophecy to predict with cer- tainty what would be the condition of our Society. - Instead of a library orderly arranged in suitable cases, we should either have none at all, or else a confused heap of books, from which any particular Selenite could only be selected after a long and tiresome search. Our museum would not exist, or the speci- mens composing it would remain packed up in the boxes in which they were sent to us, or scattered about our rooms, with- out being labelled or catalogued, useless for the purposes of study or examination, and forming an unsightly nuisance. Our treasury to be sure would be replenished; but the mere accumulation of money would not satisfy the ends of our in- corporation, and might violate some of its provisions. ‘That we have a library, which though small is yet of inestimable value for the purposes of the Society, and which, for its extent, need shun no comparison with that of any similar institution : that it is orderly arranged, and that catalogues of it have been made with great care and labor: that we have a museum 230 containing nearly all the minerals, rocks, and animals of the State, together with many others from different parts of our country and the globe, and which adds an ornament to this splendid hall, is entirely owing to the conviction of some of our members, that they would be guilty of a neglect of duty, if they should remain.content with merely paying their an- nual contributions. Such a conviction should be entertained by each of our members; and until this is generally the case, the Institute will never be productive of all the benefit which has been hoped and expected from it. Not that I desire or believe it possible for each individual member to devote an equal portion of time to the welfare of the Society ; such can never be the case; but it may reasonably be hoped, that each of its members should be constantly influenced by a desire to increase its usefulness; and this desire will be the means of producing results that, if now foretold, would be deemed whol- ly impossible. Some few of the different modes in which such a. feeling could be profitably employed, I shall proceed to point out ; and if I can satisfy you that no great demands are to be janes upon your time, and that instead of being irksome and unpleasant, they may become highly delightful and useful to you, no matter what may be your pursuit or profession, I trust — some among you will be induced to attempt them in practice. pune the first, I should place that of striving to increase the number of our members; of enlisting new recruits in the cause of science and Leaiuts to supply the places of those whom we are gradually losing. The subjects for the cultiva- tion of which we have associated together, can never be confin- ed toa few without injury ; without proportionably destroying the beneficial effects which they are calculated to produce. They are in their nature essentially expansive, and derive the greatest portion, if not all their value, from their general dif- fusion, and the new views and corrections that necessarily arise from the collision of different minds engaged in the examina- tion of the same subject. Of the arts, as consisting of the practical application of knowledge, one of the most distinguish- ed philosophers of the day has said: “ They cannot be pet- 231 fected till their whole processes are laid open, and their lan- guage simplified and rendered universally intelligible. If the knowledge be merely accumulated experience, the art is em- pirical ; but if it be experience reasoned upon and brought under general principles, it assumes a higher character, and becomes a scientific art. 'The whole tendency of empirical art, is to bury itself in technicalities and to place its pride in particular short cuts and mysteries, known only to adepts: to surprise and astonish by results, but conceal processes. The character of science is the direct contrary. It delights to lay itself open to inquiry ; and is not satisfied with its conclusions till it can make the road to them broad and beaten: and in its applications it preserves the same character : its whole aim being to strip away all technical mystery; to illuminate every dark recess, and to gain free access to all processes, with a view to improve them on rational principles.” In increasing the number of our members, then, we are not merely acting for the benefit of this Society, however dear may be its inte- rests and prosperity, but at the same time, for the cause of science and knowledge generally. Suggestions thrown out by the most ignorant, have often led to the discovery of princi- ples of the highest possible importance. And he who is en- gaged in the study of nature, will neglect no clue, however indistinct or unlikely it may be, to lead him to any valuable discovery, merely became oe may be indebted for it to one who is, in education bly beneath him. 4 Instead of , let us if possible, get seven hundred : there!are!none-who Scan. useful, and those probably the most so, from whom at first sight we should be apt to expect the least. If this were the only benefit to be antici- pated from an increase in the number of our members, it seems tome that it should be enough to induce us to exert ourselves, and to make the attempt, at least, to accomplish it. But there are other benefits to be obtained by it. Our an- nual income would at once be increased to a sum: nearer the requisitions of the Society than it has ever yet been. The re- ceipts into the treasury have not varied much from between $150 to $200 a year; a sum barely sufficient to cover the ex- 232 penses incidental to similar institutions, and furnishing com- paratively nothing towards the increase of the library, the fit- ting up additional cases, the publication of our Transactions, or the numerous other points which are absolutely essential to the completion of the designs of the Institute. You are of course aware, that what has been done by the Institute al- ready, has not been simply through its annual income ; dona- tions of considerable amounts have been frequently made for special purposes. ‘'T’o one gentleman we have been indebted for the means of completing our collection of works on Mine- ralogy, and enriching our Museum with scarce and high priced specimens. To another for a work on Fossil Conchology ; which, though consisting only of six octavo volumes, cannot be obtained at an expense far short of $200; and that is in- dispensable to the student of Geology. I might enumerate others of a similar character, but I will merely point to the splendid cases you see around you, and add the tribute of my grateful ‘acknowledgments to the liberality of some few of our fellow citizens, who have erected here a monument to which each of us may with pride refer, as among the many proofs of the noble and enlightened spirit of the citizens of Albany. That many of them have, among the numerous claims that are constantly made upon them, deemed the Institute worthy of a portion of their contributions, goes far, in my mind, to disprove the assertion, that their purses are always closed to their own institutions, and always open to those of others. Nor must I omit to mention the debt of gratitude we owe to the Trustees of the Albany Academy, who have allowed us . the gratuitous use of these noble apartments, a boon which we shall be more likely to estimate at its true value, when we con- sider that if it were withdrawn, our funds would not enable us to procure accommodation more than sufficient for the sto- rage of our collections packed up in boxes. But while much has been done, and the Institute has already begun to reflect back upon the city the honor which arises from the possession of a society contributing its quota towards the advance of knowledge, much still remains behind. To effect this, money is required ; and if you feel indisposed to add your time and 233 labor to advancing its interests, you may facilitate the labors of others, by adding to its funds. Allow me to mention a few of the objects which might be accomplished with additional means. Our library is deficient in many departments, which might be economically filled up; in ornithology, particularly, the works of Wilson, Bonaparte and Audubon, should if pos- sible be now secured, as the lapse of a few years may prevent the possibility of its ever being done. The works which we require are not those which are to be found on the shelves of every bookstore—the compends and digests of science; in which the errors of one author are perpetuated by his succes- sors, until it becomes at length a problem of no little difficulty to ascertain what is the exact truth in regard to a given point. But it is the originals which should here be found ; the store- houses in which the knowledge and discoveries of each suc- ceeding day have been laid up and preserved, and which are no less instructive in showing what has been accomplished, than in informing us what has been unsuccessful. ‘The fact may not be generally known, but is undoubtedly true, that of the numerous inventions and discoveries which so abound throughout our country, and on which we are apt to pride our- selves, as proving the superior ingenuity of our countrymen over the rest of the world, a large proportion are described and figured in works belonging to our library, some of which go back nearly two hundred years. ‘These inventions have many of them been tried and fallen into disuse, again to be invented to pass through the same trial, and to encounter the same lect. A knowledge of what had b the result, would in all probability in every such case have prevented the waste of the money, time and ingenuity expended in the vain attempt to bring to perfection what had been found insufficient, and might have induced another and more profitable direction to the same expenditure. These originals are the Transac- tions of Scientific Societies, and the Journals of Science and Art; of the latter we possess an extensive and highly valua- ble collection of what have been published in England, but of those that have appeared upon the Continent of Europe, we cannot boast a single specimen. Many of the volumes in our B ‘ é 234 library are the donations of various societies and individuals, and were the catalogues of the library printed, it is not at all unlikely that the immediate returns in works which would be observed to be wanting upon our shelves, would more than: cover the whole expense of publication. The continuation of our Transactions is almost at a stand, for want of the neces-. sary funds; the number of subscribers is not sufficient to de- fray the whole expense, and it has not been deemed advisable: to incur a debt which might hereafter prove a source of un- easiness. It is by this publication, however, only that the In- stitute can become known abroad, or can expect to participate in the benefits of those interchanges which have become es~ tablished throughout the literary and scientific world. The privilege of making use of instruments of superior ma- nufacture and higher value than can ordinarily be expected to be owned by individuals, is another advantage held out to its, by societies like ours; but in our case we possess nothing of the kind. Rinne iabieatinenes which are used: in making the quarterly observations recommended by Sir John Herschel, are borrowed for the occasion. — It: is of the highest importance to the interests of the Society, that this de- ficiency should be supplied. A barometer and thermometer of the best construction and nicest accuracy, an instrument a as- certain the magnetic dip and variation, anda meter, are some of those which, if owned by the. fades: would probably be employed constantly, with the certainty of, adding facts of the highest value to the mass which every day is accumulating throughout the world. The subjects which I have thus mentioned, are only a few of those which might be pointed out, and are perhaps the most important only in my- individual estimation ; their suggestion will, however, serve: the purpose I have in view, which is simply to shew that there: are desiderata which may be supplied: with little exertion, if properly directed. The only remaining benefit I shall mention as to be ex- pected from an increase in the numbers of our members is, that. it, would bring within our réach one of the most influential principles of our common nature, sympathy. How much so 235 ever philosophers may dispute about the mental faculties, all are agreed upon the means by which this feeling may be ex- cited and directed. Of these, the most essential is numbers; a statement which might be coolly and dispassionately, per- haps incredulously, listened to by a few without producing any especial effect upon them, if made to the same persons among a numerous multitude, will be likely to affect them nearly, if not quite, as much as the most enthusiastic of the crowd; doubts and difficulties vanish ; and when we review in soli- tude that with which we were carried away in the tumult, we might be almost induced to doubt the evidence of our recollec- tion. ‘That it may be, and in fact often is, perverted to the vilest purposes, instead of affording a sufficient reason against availing ourselves of it for good and noble ends, should, on the contrary incite us to its employment. It is the principal in- ducement that influences us to form associations for distinct purposes. The naturalist who has expended long and pain- ful hours in the examination of some obscure point in science, feels himself at length amply rewarded, and urged to new ex- ertions, by the cheering applause of those to whom he com- municates his labors. One of the most striking accounts of the operation of this principle, is given in the record of the proceedings of the British Association for the advancement of Science, at its recent meeting in Bristol. A gentleman almost entirely unknown as a naturalist, at the request of some of scure operations. He had, in other words, effected the forma- tion of crystals of quartz, carbonate of lime, and other mine- rals, from watery solutions, The effect was indeed electrical; loud peals of applause frequently interrupted his communica- tion, and were continued for several minutes after he had finished. ‘The assemblage though large, was principally com- posed of the philosophers of Britian, and one of these, the Rev. Mr. + anes: — pancnisaie to ae so re — the & intelligence, as he had intended: to make; “Now; tinned much of this feel- 236 ing is attributable to the highly, interesting discoveries pro- mulged, yet the greater portion is unquestionably due to the effect of sympathy, rendered contagious and unavoidable by the number of the audience. A regular attendance at the meetings of the Society, is an- other of the duties incumbent upon each of its members, which has been perhaps too much neglected. It is this only which will render them interesting and profitable. Few, if any, will take the trouble to prepare communications to be read at meet- ings at which it is probable there. may not be a quorum pre- sent; and instead of the want of matters of interest being a sufficient excuse for your non-attendance, that want is, in my opinion, mainly caused by the non-attendance. What induce- ments do you hold out to those who are willing to give their labor to the collection and diffusion of useful and entertaining knowledge, when even the regular stated meetings of the In- stitute, amounting to only eight or nine in the course of the year, are not ed with a full assemblage? It is in vain, and worse than useless, to expect that much or almost any good is to be accomplished by you asa society, unless you yourselves feel an interest in it, and exhibit the proof of it. In the eloquent address which was delivered before you a year ago, the subject of regular courses of l 2 s to be given under your immediate direction, was upon you as an > important means of contributing your quota towards the efforts - that were then and are still making, to give a higher charac- ter to the instruction of your fellow-citizens. I mention the suggestion now, merely for the purpose of adverting to the suc- cess which has attended the practical application of such a sys- tem in the Young Men’s Association of this city ; and to lend my aid by agitating the question again to certain action upon the subject. Even should the immediate success be not so great as might be anticipated, the simple fact of making the existence of our Society more generally known to our fellow- citizens, of bringing them together, and shewing them what has been done towards collecting a museum of natural histo- ry, could not fail of doing great and permanent good. ig If, however, you desire not merely to discharge an pss 7 237 duty, buts in addition are willing to advance a step further, and to contribute your share not merely to the well-being of the Institute, but also to the grand interests of knowledge, you can do so, not only without interfering with your other pursuits, or subjecting yourself to any toilsome or disagreeable task, but with a positive increase of pleasure, and the certainty that you are adding to your immediate usefulness in whatever sphere your lot may be cast. And this, by leaving the station of pas- sive observers, and joining the ranks of science militant. We are all of us, even in spite of ‘ourselves, observers ; the posses- sion of the organs of sense deprives us almost of the power of remaining wholly ignorant of the great operations of nature that surround us on every hand. But so long as we neglect to impress these phenomena on our recollection, by recording them for examination by ourselves or others, our observation, however precise and accurate it may be, is utterly valueless, And not only valueless, but by constantly repeating the same process, we soon lose all interest in what we see, or hear, or feel; and instead of making our senses contribute to the in- tellectual supply, which is almost as necessary to the health and strength of the mind, as is food to that of the body, we wilfully deprive ourselves of their advantages, and counteract so far the design of our creation. In some of the sciences wiarh are thence termed experimental, we are able by repeat- awe are ot in mEPIMg sc to arrive at 3 buti them by any experim nts in ou | obliged-t until they again occur in she: ses course of nature. To enable us, therefore, to make any approach towards a know- ledge of such: phenomena, or of the laws which govern them, we must observe each of them as it occurs, and not trusting to mere recollection, record our observations, if possible, on the spot, or as soon afterwards as circumstances will permit, and before we have forgotten any of the attendant. circumstances. To do this with the certain prospect of benefitting science, it is not necessary that we should be familiar with scientific pur- suits, or even with the particular branch to which our situa- ‘ 238 tion, circumstances, or peculiar disposition induces us to make the object of our attention. There are none of the sciences, indeed, in which accurate observations, if made carefully and truly related by an intelligent person, are not extremely valu- able. At the same time it is no less true, that to render any rson a perfect observer, he must be not only intimately ac- quainted with the particular science to which his observations relate, but must also possess a competent knowledge of all'the others, that so he — be enabled to estimate apropesty the re- lative importance o , and thus give the closest attention to those which are necessarily con- nected with the phenomenon, rather than to those which are merely accidental and noways essential to it. But while the knowledge of this truth should teach us the utmost caution in employing our observations in the formation of general theo- ries or laws, it should not prevent us from recording, or even publishing them. © "Neglecting to do eae deprive ourselves of with others, or of being led to Sia Risevery noe ie may in future avoid the errors into which we have been incautiously led. I know that great complaint is often made of the use- lessness of multiplying records-of observations, and more es- pecially of those made in Meteorology. But the fault com- plained of is principally that an.immense mass of observations are given, without any averages or means being calculated; that no particulars are given as to the accuracy or position of the instruments, and very frequently that the hours of obser- yation are not mentioned. Now these objections do not apply to the observations themselves, but simply to imperfections in recording them. 'T’o judge of their value, we require to be informed whether the indications of the instruments are near- ly accurate, or whether they require correction ; whether their position is such as to secure them from extraneous influence, or whether the hours at which the observations were made, are such as experience has shewn to be most proper. For in- stance, a meteorological register may be kept with great care, and yet be utterly valueless for the purposes of science, by the inaccuracy of the thermometer, by its being placed so as to be 239, affected by the radiation, reflection or conduction:of heat from: neighboring bodies, or by its observation at such hours as will not represent the mean of the twenty-four; by the deteriora- tion.of the barometer from the intrusion of air into the tube, by its wanting an apparatus for ascertaining its zero, and by its being observed at hours which will not exhibit either the daily oscillations of the column, or its mean annual height. A remarkable instance of labor almost thrown away, is found in a series of observations made by a Professor in a celebrated college, under the direction of a learned Society, where the times of observation of the barometer were those, neither of its maxithum, minimum or mean, nor even fixed hours, but one of them was the fluctuating period of sunrise, and where, from the close agreement of the results, he pronounced the notion of a daily oscillation of the column, not to be supported: by these observations. In this case the observations were nearly valueless, from the selection of improper hours, and the dedue- tion of the inference showed a want of caution truly surpris- ing. Yet even with these drawbacks, these observations are better than none at all, although a little attention to the sub- ject would have rendered them almost inestimable. While, however, care and accuracy are to be always studied, I would warn you against the opposite fault, of undervaluing your own observations because they may not possess the latter quality in - —— pee: sere; this pete when carried to. its ee a a Vy Cs r a ly . - ae sK ee: a ES ae REE Eee Pee ee at mn much higher degen tothe indus hima Some confidence in. ourselves is requisite here as well as in every occupation of life; and he who fears to relate what he has observed, lest he may be repeating a twice told tale, will never do much to advance science or his reputation. Guarding, then, by all the means with which we may be acquainted, against inaccuracies, I would impress on each of you, if possible, the conviction of the importance of forming the habit of observing and some natural phenomena at stated periods of each day, the rapidity with which it will become a source of pleasure, will soon add an agreeable surprise. Take, for instance, the direc- 240 tion and strength of the wind, and you have a subject upon : which well arranged facts are of the highest importance. The course of the clouds, one would hardly suppose, observed any approach to regularity ; and yet you will find that the upper strata are wonderfully constant, and that when two or three distinct strata can be seen, which is frequently the case, you have exhibited to you the strange phenoinenon of different strata of the air above us, moving at the same time in oppo- site directions. The times of flowering of different trees and plants ; the periods of the annual departure and return of birds, and numerous other similar subjects might be suggested, but I shall content myself with referring to White’s Natural His- tory of Selborne, one of the most delightful books in our lan- guage, as an evidence of how much agreeable and useful in- formation may be collected by any one who chooses to attempt _ : it, with even more moderate scientific attainments than any of — you can acquire with scarcely an effort. It is the constant ex- ercise of this habit which gives such a charm to the narratives of intelligent travellers ; that renders every spot, however bat- - ren and devoid of intetest it may appear to another, rich in objects of interest and wonder to him who has cultivated it. It almost adds another sense to those with which man has been endowed, or rather it is the perfecting and improving them, instead of suffering them to lie ne and to pees through want of use. I have said that this habit will interfere with no done or. profession to which you may be bound, and I repeat it; be- cause I know that the objection is often urged, that it is miaawe patible with an attention to business, and more frequently per- haps believed and acted upon, than expressed. But the objec- tion is not founded in reason, and experience does not disprove the conclusion to which reason inevitably conducts us. There is no knowledge or information, however trifling and unimpor- tant it may at the moment seem, that will not, if we make it our own, sooner or later stand us in good stead. Such is the assertion of age and experience repeated over and over again, by the most learned and wisest men. And he must be fortu- nate indeed, who has never felt regret at being unable to Te { 241 call facts or illustrations, which when he first met them, secm- ed hardly worth the preservation. ‘But time you may think is wanting; you may be constant- ly employed, and the little portions of the day which are not occupied with business, must be given to relaxation and exer- cise; these, then, are the portions which you should give to observation; and you will soon find that it affords not merely relaxation, but revives and strengthens the faculties oppressed and overpowered by intense application to an absorbing pur- suit. It brings into exercise faculties of the mind which might otherwise have remained dormant, and thus relieves us from fatigue, not by absolute rest which can never effect such end, but by change of activity. Nor must it be supposed that these little fractions of time are insufficient to lead to any valuable result. If faithfully and regularly employed, they will enable us to effect almost any purpose we can form. The most dis- tinguished authors have left upon record their warning against the pursuits of literature as a profession, and their testimony that far more can be effected by the application of a certain regular portion of the time, that even the most engrossing pur- suit will always afford to him who desires it, than by making it the sole and constant employment. You all recollect the anecdote of the French Chancellor, who finding that his wife never came down to dinner until fifteen minutes after she had been summoned, appropriated that time to writing, and in a few years had amassed a large collection of folio volumes as the result. One hour a day faithfully employed, will enable any one to make ina few years a collection of observations far surpassing in value any estimate which should previously be formed, and that was at all within the limits of probability. Constancy and regularity are the only indispensable requisites; and without these, nothing valuable can be produced, no mat- ter how great be the expenditure of time. Neither the mechanic, the merchant, nor the professional man expects, when entering upon life, to continue busily en- gaged until its termination; no one thinks to die with harness _ on; but each looks forward (no matter how obscure may be the prospect) to the period when his toil-won gains will enable Cc 242 him to retire from the busy paths which he has trodden during youth and manhood, to spend the evening of his life in more appropriate ease and quiet. But if he at length succeeds in wishes, unless he have provided some mental resource or occupation for his retirement, it becomes irksome and intolera- ble: and he finds that the gratification of his wishes has not added to his happiness, but the reverse. If, however, he will, while engaged in business, choose for his amusement that which he intends for his occupation in retirement, he will ac- complish all that he desires. He enjoys tle present gratifica- tion, and quitting business, he assumes an occupation that cus- tom has endeared. He is relieved from the embarrassment of having to devise and become familiar with that which is strange and foreign to his habits and pursuits, which is often too erful to be overcome. And where can we look for nobler or more fitting employment for this period of life, than is afford- ed by the sciences, or the contemplation of the laws of nature. Here “ CORITORICHORS OF areg uber lies never froguai, but all is harmony. Ap and equivoque in her sublime legislation, is is as unheard et as iedadaanaiotre tion.” It may, however, occur to some, that a position in a city is not favorable to such an application of his leisure; that if his residence were somewhere else, the inducements held out might be irrisistible, but that here the attempt would be useless. Nothing can be more unfounded than such a surmise; there is not one of the sciences that cannot be advantageously stu- died here, and many of them with opportunities superior to those afforded by other places apparently more favorably situa- ted. Laying entirely out of view the valuable collections of literary and scientific books which are to be found here, it may with truth be asserted, that there are few places which possess in their rocks, streams and fields, greater attractions for the student of natural science than Albany. Our sands, clays and rocks present a field of almost unlimited extent for researches, and would amply repay the most minute investi- gation: more especially as they are among those to which, in this country, the least attention has been paid. Nor is it theit 243 presence alone that renders this a favorable spot, the occur- rence of the deep ravines which are found in every direction, furnish extensive natural sections on every hand. 'The broad and noble river that flows in front of us, affords an opportuni- ty of studying with unusual advantage one of the great pro- cesses of nature, which apparently trifling, from its constant action, has been shewn to be capable of performing an impor- tant part in the production of those changes upon the surface of the earth, that in the earlier stages of geological science tasked the most fervid imaginations to furnish deluges and un- heard of convulsions, to account for. Our streams and canal abound with fish, shells and reptiles; while the votary of Bo- tany may reap a rich harvest from the luxuriant and varied vegetation of our uncultivated fields. “Meteorology too, one of the most complicated and difficult, but at the same time interesting subjects of physical research,” may here be culti- vated with every advantage. The developments of his theo- ry, which have recently been made here by Mr. Espy, have, it is to be hoped, excited an interest in the subject, which will not entirely pass away without producing valuable results. As citizens of New-York, too, we should take a greater inte- rest in this science, from the fact that the most extensive and valuable contributions which have of late years been made to it, are due to the enlightened action of the Regents of the University. . Datta ach itledieateenl-anih chamsicalaciemeen slene.tbet you need confine your attention ; setting them entirely aside, the field of research is still amnple, and in this country as yet hardly entered upon. The department of Statistics opens a world almost in itself, and promises to its cultivators the rich- est rewards. Nor must you deem it a dry and repulsive study; it is susceptible of being made the most intensely interesting, by exhibiting to us views of order and regularity pervading not merely the works of nature, but even the artificial institu- tions of men, of which we should not otherwise possess the most indistinct conception. Few things are apparently more uncertain than the occurrence of sickness or death, and yet we know that when our observation is carried over a sufficient 244 extent, smaller irregularities disappear, and general laws may be deduced; which, though they may not enable us to guard against or prevent them to any very great extent, point out the means by which their consequences may be materially . So also in the case of crime, the statistics of this pre properly collected and arranged, at once bring to view facts in the highest degree startling, and which go far towards pointing out the appropriate means which should be employed for its prevention. A single fact of undoubted truth may per- haps show that I have not much exaggerated their value on this subject. In England, one-half of the offenders against the laws of their country, are under 20 years of age; one- tenth under 16, and one-sixtieth under 12; a fact which never could have been known, unless statistical collections had ex- hibited it. Here, indeed, the interference of government is perhaps necessary to supply complete details, and it is for you to direct its attention to it. If you compare the censuses which have been taken at different times under the direction of our general and state governments, you will at once be struck with the vast improvement in those of later years; and yet, exa- mined with a view to statistics, even these are susceptible of still further improvements. 'The making and enforcing of well founded suggestions on the proper authorities, is one of the le- gitimate objects of societies like our own, and when judicious- ly done, will always receive respectful attention. But even if confined to our own city, the researches of one individual would in a very short time accumulate a mass of information of the highest interest, and which is now no where to be found. The number of commitments to jail, the proportion of indict- ments found, and of convictions under them; the number of schools and scholars; the amount of merchandize annually brought into and taken from the city; the number of travel- lers who arrive at and depart from it; are some of the points of very different character that may be mentioned as tending to show the extent of the field. An infinitude of similar sub- jects will suggest themselves on the slightest reflection, not one of which would not afford ample scope for the exercise not merely of industry, but of talent and skill, 245 I have thus pointed out, imperfectly I am aware, a few of the modes which are within the power of each of you, by the employment of which you may discharge the duty you have undertaken in becoming members of the Institute. The sub- ject is far from being exhausted, but I have desired rather to excite attention and inquiry, than to weary your patience by an enumeration of the almost infinitely diversified methods which ingenuity could suggest. If I have succeeded in doing this, my aim has been accomplished. To render our Association completely successful, depends not upon the zeal or acquirements of this or that member, but upon the willingness of each to contribute his exertions towards it. It is not by speculation and generalization to which our minds are always prone, that we can materially benefit our- selves, or add to the stock of useful knowledge. These, in- stead of requiring encouragement, should rather be repressed and discouraged. 'T'o be of any ultimate value, they require more extensive acquaintance with the facts brought out by ob- servation and experiment, with their relative importance and connexion, than any of us can boast of, or could acquire with- out an entire devotion of all our faculties to science. They may be safely left to the Herschels and the Humboldts, the giants in knowledge and intellect, while we may contribute materially to lessen their labors, by choosing the humbler, but not less necessary, task of collecting and verifying facts. It is only those who know nothing of science or its pursuits, who would be inclined to undervalue and sneer at these worthy contributions, while they would applaud to the echo, the frothy, empty declamation, which affects the ear, but does not reach the mind. Here each of you can do something, and you should dismiss at once and forever the thought, that be- cause you cannot do all, or even any thing very great or re- markable, there is no necessity for your doing any thing. The water, the sand, the lime, and the brick, are as indispensable to the completion of the lofty edifice, as the towering column or the sculptured shaft. Genius, whatever it may be, no lon- ger sways the sceptre over the realms of science. Great and noble ends indeed are to be achieved, but the means which oe can alone ensure their accomplishment, are comparatively humble. They are patient labor and sober thought; these each of you can give, and with these every thing can be ac- complished. Since this address was delivered, I have met with the follow- ing passage in Dr. Young’s lectures, delivered at the Royal Institution of Great Britain, which affords a proof that the assertion made in page 233, of our own country, is true also in England: “We may also be able to render an important service to socie- ty, and to confer a still more essential benefit on individuals, by re- pressing the premature zeal of unskilful inventors. We need only read over the monthly accounts of patents intended for securing the pecuniary advantages of useful discoveries, in order to be con- vinced what expense of time and fortune is continually lavished on ‘the feeblest attempts to innovate and improve. If we can be suc- cessful in convincing such inconsiderate enthusiasts of their real ignorance, or if we can show them, that even their own fairy ground has been preoccupied, we may save them from impending ruin, and may relieve the public from the distraction of having its attention perpetually excited by unworthy objects. The ridicule attendant upon the name of a projector, has been in general but too well deserved; for few, very few, who have aspired at improve- ment, have ever had the patience to submit their inventions to such . experimental tests as common sense would suggest to an impartial observer. We may venture to affirm, that out of every hundred of fancied improvements in arts or in machines, ninety at least, if not ninety-nine, are either old or useless: the object of our re- searches is, to enable ourselves to distinguish and to adopt the hundredth. But while we prune the luxuriant shoots of youthful invention, we must remember to perform our task with leniency, and to show that we wish only to give additional vigor to the health- fal branches, and not to extirpate the parent plant.” 247 ‘TABLE I. Art. XII. Mereorotoaicat Osservations made on the days suggested by Sir Joun F. W. Herscue. HOURLY METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Feldhausen, at the Cape of Good Hope, on the 20th, 21st and 22d September, 1836, By Sir Jonny F. W. HerscHe.. : 2828 2 2 rytem Jo y0q 38 “duno,y, | = 8885 8 8 5 *punois tbe : : 8 | wo ‘moyy,| 9 ALE : : | "10}09 904 | ., tis : ; z IOAO “UOJ, | = $3: : : Seow, cage = feet be + schanl Toul OF haeet snag earth’s surface by Col. 14 contains the te idiiperitiee c of the Paty mapa feet deep, (16 of which were seoupiat i ie: ter). It was n bya tenn cone eter (one of Crichton’s = ted Mentioned), by aking a thik fous bottle full of water, well stopped, and letting it remain cons tantly at the bottom, except when rapidly drawn up for the purpose of immersing and reading off the thermometer. The readings are corrected for zero of the therm NOTES TO THE OBSERVATION s. (Refer erences to Numbers in C 1, Cloud along the summit of the Table ss to westward, All clear to E. p? & — morning. Le ton cloud on the moun Clouds as in last observation. 4, Cloud increased on = mountain, and occasionally drifting across the sky in cirrocumular pa = pi and pov a in all quarters, Polarization of sky light very strong. 7. Ditto. Polarization a maximum at about of 92 deg. from sun, oe south pole: = very strong thence down to the south horizo 8. The mou = with a blueish haze. 9, Ditto fans trong. ae Tar ils of th Lert ih haze. etails of the ¢ Mountain obliterated by grey or rye ‘ a cepted by mountain, Actinometer observations of urse discontt 249 Superb begga evening. if, 15, 16, 17. Ditto. 18. Very slight dew on 6; 1 a ‘Thermometers laid out for night radiation. 19, 20, 21, 22, 23. Dew as before, hardly increasing. 24. No apparent amen for this remarkable rise of the thermometers. . nt sun 26. Rapes tie poring ye every thing most favorable for the actinometer obser- 27; 98, 29, ‘30, 31. Ditto, ditto, observed the sun: it has a very large spot in an el a of smaller ones, Diameter of Penumbra by micrometric mea- Sars ‘ 32, 36. Suni interru tered oe re Table Mountain. serene, and delightful. NOTES TO THE OBSERVATIONS OF TABLE II. 6. Fine; t clouds and wind; sharp frost. 7 —- brisk wind; do 9. Ove 10, 11, 12 pad light brisk wind; sharp frost. 1 cm 3 4, 5 "Fine ‘light clou = wind. 2.) em Soe) red Paahe aS 3 Toe 12. Overcast; pent snow; air frosty. bey snow and wind. 5 Cloudy; slight tha 2, 3, 4, 3, G Owihnek: light brisk wind. * In the evening pail with sharp frost; as also the day p vations being commence: 250 TABLE Ii. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments of the Royal ona Somerset House, for 37 successive hours, ye 6 A. M. of the 2ist of March, 1837, and ending 6 P. M. of the fotlowing day. (Greenwich mean time. By Mr. J. D. Rosertos, Assistant Secretary Royal Society. , ses ze og ry a o ze | ES 22 33 |§s 36 Hs |ée <5 6 A. M.|29.890 34. ' : 34.8 $79) 35.7 “861 36.0}: 1 ‘851 36.3 1 : 36.2 1 -821'29.309] 35.7 P. M |29.794 29.786|36.9 .772.29.766|37.1 776, 37.2 .754.29 Peg . } -76 J 10 1 12 A.M. 8 ; 4 3 29.5 ) 8131.0 10 15134.6 } 8 .2'36.2 12 1235.7 P.M. 0|35.7 ) 8135.2 3 7134.7 4 34.6 5 2/33.3 00 ; 6 1812/29. -804)37.232. 5129 .824|37.2|00.2/26| ....| do Means, (29.777 29.769\36.6331 6129 .784136.3)00.9196|.1021 * Melted snow. The observ eo of the mage Sno and crown glass) are severally correct- ed for tempera ” _— ees — water in the cis’ rr the wet mm bulb thermometer ws frozen, during nearly the we of the observations = [For notes to the observations of this table, see preceding page.) 251 TABLE III. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the Apartments of the Albany Institute, i ing at 6 A y, for 37 successive hours, commencing of Lat. By a Committee of the Institute. Albany Acade- M. of the 21st March, 1837, and ending at 6 P. M. of the following day. 42° 39’ 8” NV; Long. 73° 46’ 38” W. eT 4 Py ro] a ca | Sg 3: a2 2s z & os oo 3 . eg | 2|gelcelzele|2|¢]3 | “MARK 4 eE|s Flos & 3 Ss |as|s2lgelee1a) Fe] ae] so 6 A. M.|30.119}27.75)/24.50} .---+ 15.0]... cal SE |Overcast; br. stripE 7 .089}30.00)27.00)26.0 |17.0 light.| do do { .097)31.00/29 .50)27.5 |16.0 ve. lt.| do do 9 - 102) 34. 33.00 d ° do 1 . 43.50)}42.25 - do I -080) 49.00/48 .50 do pleas. breeze, 1 -078) 49 .75|49.50 do P. M.}30- 51.50|52.00 do : 53|52.00)51.75 do -047| 48 .50)48.50 do 4 53 00)43 .00 do 5 40.50 do 5 00/38 .50 do com, rainingat y 137.00 Rain, (6h. 15m. 36.50 «-| do 36.00 do 1 \35.50 do 1 35 50k :| do 12 35 do slight. I Oo Ol .| do els.br. in E hor, do do do Rain&snow, mea’d 8 A.M. 23d, 1.52in. etn aE NE Instruments and position same as in December. Time ascertained by @ transit instrument on the 18th, the 252 TABLE IV. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at Montreal, Lower Canada, for 37 successive hours, com- eaeies at 6 A. ee a 21st March, 1837, and ending 6 P. M. of the following Lat. 45° 30’ MW; Long. 73° 22’ W. By J. S. McCorp, Cor. Sec. Natural History Society. 2 Tl sists © Bee | s 4 2 — at - A es | 2 |28/ 28/2. |S wits ae | 8 (86] SE| sd |g cee He | a |e) es/5F 6 A. M./30.140159. (13. | =N Cloudy. 7 164/59. (12. do io 8 150/58. |12. do Light snow. 9 -148)58.515 NbyE Cloudy. 10 -156|58.516.5 | do do 11 -150|58.519. | do do 12 + . 20. do do 1 P. M.|30.124|59. 2) | -do do 3 ok do do 3 6 hth. do do 4 -068]60.5 23. do do 5 -074|60.5. do do “6 is . do do - 07. . - do do 8 . ‘ do. do 9 -066|61.525. | do do 10 -066}61.5,25. do do hail, 11 -046/61.5 27. do do do 12 -032)61.5/27. do do 1 A. M./30.020/61.5/27. do do 2 000/62. do do : tee 62. |32. Roar do. 5 -964/62. (83. E do the rain very ite ‘hail heavy. 6 -968)61. - do do 7 -970/60. - do do do 8 .978/60. 83. | do do : 9 -996]/60.5}34. do Cloudy; tt ih hail Seabed 10 -000/61. 34. | NE do 1l 1s 5. oO do 12 000/61 .5/37. do do 1M -012/61.5/37. do do 2 990/61 .5/37. do do 3 -994/61.5/35. do do 4 996)61 5/34. do do 5 = 61.5/33.5 | N do 6 016/62. |33. do do Means, |30.048\60.5127 .01 Bar. corrected & reduced to 32° F. 30.031. Tecmo age eM ee During the whole of the i eyrmh ras entire — was covered with a dense cloud, so that pees rigs could be see ean the Cae “9% a well _ = po for the year 1836, 45.87. Mean temperature oft same well during the 37 hours observation, 40.05. 253 TABLE V. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the reels —_ ing, L. I, for 37 successive hours, rcoggt A t 6 A. M. of the 21st of March, 1837, and end- ing @ BM of the following day. Lat. 40° 44’ 58” WV; Long. 73° 44 20” W. By Prof. C. Grit. a 8 5 oi § Se 0. me > oO 5 ° sé | S3|zeise/ 22} & | 2/4 a <5 ° Rn g 3 g 8 3 i BE rs z| = E ed REMARKS. ° = — e > = 5:5 me 25 Z2/ G4|/24| = | O | ae 5 A.M. 3. (32. | NE | S_ (gentle.| Thin clouds overspread, 7 [.50i83.75) GO |-co-.s| do | Misty. f 50 ide HO eee oe do { 7 gies ak +O Bees Bpsre Pa ies) do 10 do | SW | brisk.) Misty; clouds 1 do do do d 12 do do do do P. M. do do do do 7 do do do do 7 do do do do d do do do do do do {gentle do do do | Dark clouds and rain. E do d d do 3 do do | brisk. do do do do | Violent rain, 10 do do do do 1 do do we do 12 do do io do A.M. do do do do : do do d do ‘ d do do do d do do do » do do do do do do do do do do do do Go} “desde: f° do do | do | do do 10 do |-do |vechi|’ do 1 £ do ' do P, M. do | do | | Rain less heavy: ‘ do do do do } NE | SW | brisk. do d do do : « do do | high. do * do |ve. hi. do Means, |29.859/50.50'39. [38.20 Fontenot 54 P. M. of th ist = ¢ ided 9 i at the at, an He P. M. of the 22d; commenced again at 1 A. M. of the 23d, and t iP, M. f the same da: rained al- so from 5 to 64 P. M. Sf the 234, 9 wae oe iar a - The wind, pre as in the table, fll at about 3 A.M. of the 23d try Saintes the depth of rain could not be 254 TABLE VI. METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the See University, > tte Ci., for cessive hours, commencing at 6 A. M, of the 21st of pes « 1837, and shelby at 6 P. M. of the following day. Lat 41° 34’ 43” .; Long. 72° 29 W. By Prof. A. W. Sr. - = eles | $2] 2/2 [= {2 : sé 3 |aelgel 2/8 [2 |g. lect § le, Bs | &$ |se| Se 331 a3 18s los 3 “3 SE | EE/SE GE] EISE| BE issi22| § |e me [as | op op = bak nD oO ‘sayzenb usa op op 4 3 op G* ls 4 1880 OY} WIOIF PNOS UTY) JO UINIVNS IIMOT [IMS B YIM ‘aAoquss AGG toss spnos iki Aq WMge) *Bu0Ns op te "MSS WoJy SULAOUL pnoya pnos aMoOT ! o[qrsta ATUIET a MSS op a ee d at eeeae eaees re) a Senn eeee o op It "q10G = uo sB sures oY} 9q 0} posoddns st pnoyo ain ou JO eBmnod OL Op |eeeessecee op op ot tp USIP 04 JOUUL YUP IO s}MOMIEAOUL S}t YY PouyepuN os ‘pnolo OD “5 [he ig os 8 . * ooo 7 0 _ ; mm OURWOE DES wceosHemwwr wm Sows] ABwwR he soaws do Cls. still thinner, rain — 250 = 250/\WNW)..| Cloudy, no rain, wind in win- 300 _ ae [try gusts. : cis: dis. by darker shades on [a light ground. > = ‘ do do |..{. do 120 ""| No sky visible. ..| Nos +120 NNW j Civate feokele sky visible, +120) do Sky more extensively +10 | NW, Sky ag a cov. with fly. cls. do Clear; flying clouds. 07 oe 12 | NNW/2 | Clear; els. dissolving rapidly. -05 | NW do -05 eeeeeeles Perfectly clear. eS oe do 025 : 02 ae do es ae Instruments and position same as in previous observations. 261 TABLE XIL METEOROLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS Made at the nega of Vermont, for 37 successive hours, com- mencing at 6 A. M. of 21st March, 1837, and ending 6 P. M. of the “lowing day. Lat. 44° 27 3 Long. 73° 15’ W. By Profs. G. W. & F. N. Beyepicr. a iti [=] mM, Pom) | = 2 De o @ g w 5 i oe 3° f RS ime Ee: ws 5 A.M.| 754.14 No dew at 15° j 754.27 |... 3.5 3 754.91 ‘ ) 759.62 * 10 75°.46 |—I. 1 759.40 | 2. 12 759.20] 4. P.M. 759.20] 4. s 754.67 | 3.5 | No dew at 20° ‘ 754.51 | 4. 4 754. 3.5 754.42 | 2. 754.47 754.41 3 754.61 ) 754.57 10 754.42 i 1 754.28 |—0.25 12 754.06 |—0.25 A.M.) 753.79 |—0.5 753.49 |—0.5 ‘ 753.14 < ‘ 752.84 |—0.2 752.69 |—0.5 752.54 0.1 752.44 oD 3 752.20 3 ) 752.32 5 29.5 10 752.28 oO" 29. 1 752.25 . 1s 752.39 oO P.M.) 752.36 75, 29. 3 752+ 46 é K 752.41 4 752.56 7. 29, é 752.59 | 2.5 29.25 € 752.88 ‘ Means,| 753.684) 2°36 ee —— —— ee Barom. 29.672 Eng. inches. Therm. 36.25 Fahr 262 REMARKS TO PRECEDING TABLE e time of these observations, the lake was still entirely frozen over, anda Pied te of cold dry days had immediately preceded them. This will probably was from ry ENNW a at te beginning, but fluctuating, and from that cause and the aspect of a cloudy sky, a speedy change was anticipated. At 10 oe M. the wind, still slight, was from NW, and at 2 P. M. it ed settled in the SE, where it remained 19 A. M. on the 22d. This change was accompanied wae a general beer of the clouds, and from 9 P. M. on the 2ist to 4 A. M. on the 22d, rain, hail an tion on the 22d, 9 A. M. the water was dripping freely from the eaves, (from the tawine of a 3 little sleet deposited in the night,) within 2 feet of the in- strument. The difference between that observation and ~ three succeeding ones, is probably er amen to that — umstance. rom the few observations made with the hygrome o mean It is proper to add that the hygrometit, and a dall the instruments, were about 15 ft. above the surface of the ground, and — tiers above the evel of Lake b Soap: oat he —_— of owreerny ck heig' . a m , , by su btracting oe each height so 2 eoreted ,000166 of its soca for above correction. — th pagerG oy Sa ‘ f the mercury. the They only varied, encathey between a nese 2°,75 an = 5°,1. The hygro- meter is Daniell’s——made ¢ by Newman of London. _ the thermometers used are exact instruments, and do not differ in their readings na part degree, in like eireu 3. B tera e erphio No. 275, of Bunten of , and re -1 a millimetre to be subtracted from i in; bring the heights of the column to those of the yal Observatory s i nts to the two sure fr Ming dae jogs being of sensibly equal diameter. No correction for capillarity 263 Art. XIII. An account of the burning of Schenectady in 1690, drawn up from manuscript records. By Groree W. CarrenterR. Read February 6, 1834. [The historical part of the following Article, embracing the first few pages, and extending to the middle of the year 1689, is taken from Smith’s History of the Province of New-York ; the subsequent part, containing all the cir- ces connected with the event detailed in this paper, is from a book of records on file in the county clerk’s office, with the perusal of which I have been politely favored by C. A. Ten Eyck, Esq. I have also examined all the store ngs of the Civil and Military Council of Albany, that are to be found the Chamberlain’s office.] The early history of our country is intimately blended with that of its aboriginal inhabitants; and while it faithfully re- cords their virtues, and bears honorable testimony to their friendship and kindness, is chequered with their crimes, and marked with a long catalogue of their massacres. Those of Schenectady and Wyoming have long been celebrated for their atrocity and cruelty, and stand in dark relief in the calendar of crime. ‘The former was perpetrated through the instigation of the French in Canada; and this event, which led to the expedition against that country in the ensuing spring, has not been recorded with that minuteness which its importance de- serves. I have attempted, therefore, in the following article to give a correct account of it, with the attendant circumstances ; together with a succinct history of the colony from its first wee tlement. This was found necessary, to understand the causes that influenced the French to plan and consummate an act, that will ever be remembered for its unparalleled barbarity. The province of New-York, at its discovery, was inhabited by a bold and warlike confederacy, consisting of the Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Senecas and Cayugas. By their un- daunted bravery and uniform success in war, they had gained the ascendancy over the surrounding tribes, (who paid them tri- bute,) and spread their fame over a greater part of the north- 264 ern continent. The first settlers at Fort-Orange, (now Alba- ny,) early secured their friendship, and entered into a league of amity with them. The Governors of the Province, sensi- ble of the importance of retaining their good will, severally met in council the principal Sachems of the confederacy, rati- fied the league, and received from them the belt of peace. This friendly intercourse, thus kept alive by the policy of the crown, not only insured to the English a lucrative trade, but protected their settlements from the inroads of the more distant hations. The French, who settled in Canada in 1603, deprived of the trade with the Iroquois, and not insensible of its advanta- ges, viewed with jealousy, the growing power and wealth of their neighbors, and determined to seduce the Indians from their alliance. 'To accomplish their malicious purpose, jesuiti- cal emissaries were sent into their country, who finding it im- possible to detach them from the interest of the English, en- deavored to sow jealousy among them, and thus break up their confederacy and conquer them in detail. So great was the influence which they soon acquired over the minds of some, that the chain of friendship which had bound the Five Na- tions together from remote antiquity, had well nigh been my ken, and the Colony deprived of its most powerful allies. This undoubtedly would have been the result, had not their designs been discovered and counteracted by Peter Schuyler, whose hame is identified with the prosperity of the Colony. He wee at this time mayor of the city of Albany, and had by his Ms remitting kindness and disinterested friendship toward the Six Nations, gained their confidence, and thus raised a barrier to the aggressions of the French and the far nations. ‘The con- fidence reposed in him was so great, that without the consent of their Quidder, (as they called him,) they would neither de- clare war, make peace, nor enter into any alliance. The French, disappointed and chagrined at their ill SUCCESS, furnished the Twightwies and Chictaghicks, (then at war with the Iroquois,) arms and ammunition, encouraging them 2 harass their borders and cut off their hunting parties. Ths stratagem also proved abortive, and only served to exposé the 265 deceitfulness of the French. The Confederates detected the treachery, intercepted the supplies, and defeated their enemies. The Governor of Canada, to repair the evil consequences of these measures, and effect a treaty with the Iroquois, formed the bold but rash and impolitic design of invading their terri- tory ; for this purpose he collected an army of twenty-six hun- dred French and Indians, and, commanding in person, enter- ed their country, destroyed their cornfields and burnt several of their villages. ‘This act was an open violation of the peace then existing between the English and French, and soon brought upon the latter the vengeance of the Confederates. In- dignant at the treachery, they, with their usual success, made several descents into Canada. ‘The French, unaccustomed to their predatory warfare, could offer but feeble resistance, and thus lost their influence over the far nations; which, with few exceptions, made peace with the English. In the midst of these successes, and when a little assistance from the English would have proved the total destruction of the French, an event of the greatest importance occurred at New-York, and gave them an opportunity to recover from the chastisements of the Iroquois. Many of the inhabitants had become disaffected to the government, and Leysler, aided by the military, had seized the garrison, and under the cloak of loyalty discharged the duties of governor. He did not meet, however, with that cordial co-operation on the part of the in- habitants which he undoubtedly expected to receive. While cori apladd the asta joined his standard not a few were enraged at his presumption, and considered him in no other light than that of an usurper. The people were thus divided into two distinct parties, who carried their animosity so far that it required all the address of Peter Schuyler to pre- vent a civil war. That unity of action which had heretofore enabled them to detect and counteract the designs of their enemies, and which is indispensably necessary to the prosperity of every infant co- lony, was destroyed, and the borders of their province were exposed to the ravages of the — Notwithstanding the 266 late successes of the Confederates, so great was the fear of an invasion from Canada, that on the 28th June, 1689, four scouts were sent from Albany, with directions to proceed to Crown Point, and acquaint the Council from time to time of the move- ments of the French. The stockadoes around Albany were repaired ; and to give the guard an opportunity of observing the enemy in time to sound an alarm, all the fences, wood and houses, that stood without the gates, were removed and taken within the stockadoes. On the first of August, news arrived of a declaration of war between England and France. When these tidings reached the Colony, the disaffection of the inha- bitants was so great, that it was found impossible to maintain even a few scouts stationed upon the frontiers. The Civil and _ Military Council at Albany, not insensible of the importance of their city, and aware of the deep-rooted enmity of the French, immediately Resolved, “Since there is news of wat between England and France, -that the gentlemen now met at this convention, doe each bring a gunn, with } Ib. of pow- der and ball equivolent ; and that the traders and other inha- bitants be pursuaded to doe the same, to make up the number fifty, to be made use of upon occasion.” This timely warning, however, was entirely lost upon the populace ; instead of arousing them to a proper sense of their anger, and encouraging them to be prepared to give the French a suitable reception, it only increased their fears, al- ready excited by false reports. The excitement was so great, that many were preparing to emigrate to the east, and the Council found it expedient, on the 7th of August, to issue a proclamation, forbidding any to leave the county of Albany, under the penalty of the law, “to be esteemed, pursued and. followed after as cowards, runaways and vagabonds, and as. such to be prosecuted by the utmost severity of the law.” On. the 21st of August, the news of war was confirmed, and in- formation sent to Kinderhook, Schenectady and Canastagione. The affairs of the French at this time were under the su- perintendence of Count Frontenac, an accomplished soldier. Although advanced in years, he still retained all the buoyancy 267 and vivacity of youth, and was well calculated to retrieve the ill successes of his predecessor. Apprized of the disunion of the English, (through the spies who resided in the colony of New-York,) he did not long re- main inactive, but made preparations to carry on the war. Fully sensible of the impossibility of conquering the Iroquois, he avoided the fatal error into which De la Barre and De Non- ville had fallen, and by a bold and secret manceuvre, hoped to diminish their confidence in the superiority of the English, and thus open a way for negotiation. He accordingly planned an expedition against Albany. This design did not long re- main concealed from the knowledge of the colonists, who re- ceived the intelligence from some praying Indians, taken pri- soners upon Lake Champlain, (September Ist, 1689.) A messenger was immediately despatched by the Civil and Military Council of Albany to Ulster, for the aid of thirty men, and an express sent to Capt. Leysler at New-York, to procure an additional one hundred men, and a supply of am- munition. Unable to obtain any aid from New-York, and an attempt to raise by subscription a sum sufficient to maintain ene hundred men having entirely failed, (the amount sub- scribed not exceeding half the sum required,) a deputation was sent to New-England for aid. Although little could have been expected from this quarter, (being engaged at the time in a war with the eastern Indians,) they returned with a promise of assistance. From this time to the latter end of November, the public attention was entirely absorbed in the internal af- fairs of the colony ; and little was done to prevent a surprise, if we except the sending out occasionally of a few scouts, During this period the public credit had sunk so low, that in- dividuals became responsible for the payment of the military. On the 25th of November, the long expected assistance from the east, consisting of eighty-seven men, arrived at Albany. This timely aid, which, under a proper discipline, might have averted the blow which shortly after fell upon Schenectady, only added to the confusion. Thirty of their number were stationed at Schenectady, but instead of meeting a cordial wel- 268 come on the part of the inhabitants, they were treated with — perfect indifference. 'The disaffection was carried so far, that Peter Schuyler found it necessary to go in person to Schenec- tady to see them well quartered. The inhabitants of this place appear to have lost all sense of danger and personal safety. The usual precaution of clos- ing the gates and placing sentinels at the outskirts of the town was neglected, and the inhabitants thus exposed to the ma- rauding parties of the enemy. When warned of their imminent danger by a small party of gentlemen who had come from Albany for that express pur- pose, and entreated to keep their outposts manned, they evin- ced a recklessness of consequences bordering upon idiocy. While in this exposed condition, the expedition started from Canada, with a view of surprising Albany. It consisted of two hundred French and Indians, Through the advice of the latter, they changed their purpose, and directed their course towards Schenectady, which they reached almost famished, after a march of twenty-two days. They had suffered ex- tremely from the winter, which was uncommonly severe ; and during the latter part of their journey, had endured all the torments of hunger. Their provisions were too far expended to return, and they themselves too feeble to encounter a spirit- ed resistance; nothing seemed left them, therefore, but to pe- rish, with the object of their expedition almost accomplished, or A surrender prisoners of war: they chose the latter alter- native. It is impossible at this day to estimate the extremity of their sufferings: we are accustomed to judge of the miseries of oth- ers, by the standard of our own feelings, and enjoying the comforts of civilized life cannot enter into that degree of hard- ship and wretchedness necessary to induce the savage, (who rehearses his exploits, with all the ardor of an enthusiast, while enduring the most painful and lingering torments,) to surren- der a prisoner of war. While in this destitute and wretched condition, the Indian scouts, = were generally two or three days in advance of 269 . all marauding parties,) returned from Schenectady with an account of its defenceless state. This, as might have been expected, buoyed up their depressed hopes and encouraged them to proceed. ‘They reached Schenectady on the 8th of February, 1690, between eleven and twelve o'clock at night. Finding the gates open and the outposts unmanned, they pe- netrated undiscovered into the very heart of eral To prevent any resistance from the inhabitant y and thus secure their total destruction, the whole number’ of. French Indians was divided into small parties, and hehe house sur- rounded without the knowledge of its inmates, who rested in fatal security, not believing it possible for the enemy, in the middle of winter, to march from Canada to their city; nor were they convinced of their error until aroused from their slumber by the savage yell of the Indians, who had already begun the work of destruction. The assailants were rendered desperate by their late sufferings, and with a fiendish barbari- ty, practised only in savage warfare, commenced an indiscri- minate massacre. The lisping infant was torn from the fond embraces of its frantic mother, and inhumanly murdered in her presence ; the aged found in the number of their years no respite from death, but soon fell under the stroke of the tomahawk; nor did the piercing cries of the helpless female move the compassion of the Indian, who beheld in every Bega countenance an ene- my tohisrace. ric aeatidytihe: cieelroninens Malco: alle had dled he to mahawk, the city was fired, and all : the ex-- ception of five or six houses, saved through otis todbtcdieori of Capt. Sanders,” towards whom they had received particular orders to be kind, in return for the many good offices shewn * In Smith’s history of New-York, I find the following: ‘‘ Several women and children were also released at the desire of Captain Glen, to whom the French no violence, the dene cavemen » boned strict pasins against it, on the sore of his wife's ilies to Fre in the time of Colonel Dou- ” It will seen . gan. in the name, 270 by his wife to the French prisoners. ‘The number of those destroyed, amounted to sixty ; consisting of ee a ee ee 24. UMS WORT FEE 6s oe wes ? EWU RENe CUMONON 56 ses oes 17 A French prisoner, (girl,) ........+ 1 A Macquase Indian, ..........+.65 1 NGOS, 666 CTS NA OG 10 Making a total of ........ 60 Among these was Petrus T'assemaker, the minister, and five soldiers from New-England. Those who escaped the fire and the tomahawk, were four- teen miles from the nearest place of safety: In the hurry of their flight, they could not provide for the dangers that now awaited them, and were exposed to the inclemency of a cold winter’s night. Half clad and wounded, they com their dreary march towards Albany. Owing to the great depth of snow, (being twenty-four inches at the time,) their progress was very slow, and few reached it before the middle of the next morning. The first that arrived was Symon Schermer- horn ;* he had been closely pursued by the enemy, and expos ed to their fire had received a wound in his thigh, but by the aid of a good horse, had effected his escape; he reached Al- bany about five o’clock in the morning, (February 9th, 1690,) and brought information that the enemy had murdered the in- habitants and burnt the city, and were then on their march - towards Albany. This error undoubtedly arose from his mis- taking the few that followed him out of Schenectady, for the main body, still engaged in the city. Alarm guns were IM mediately fired at the fort, to apprize the farmers in the vicl- nity, of danger ; the outposts all manned, and every thing put in readiness to repel an attack which was momentarily ex- pected. The statement of Schermerhorn was by those who arrived during the morning ; all of whom reported goto 2 seth asl sie ole _* The enemy had murdered his son and three of his negroes. 271 | that the enemy were on their way to Albany. Some horse, sent out to discover their march, were unable to proceed through the deep snow, and obliged toreturn. The same fate attend- ed an express sent to procure assistance from Sopus. ‘Thus cut off from all communication with their neighbors, the in- habitants awaited the result; nor were they correctly informed of the motions of the enemy, until some time in the afternoon: had they known these early in the morning, they might, in all — probability, have surprised them while pillaging the city, and rescued the prisoners afterwards carried to Canada. Some Macquase Indians were sent from Albany in the morning, un- der the direction of Lawrence, (an Indian very friendly to the English,) to carry the tidings to their castles, and prevail on the Macquase to hasten to their assistance. The bloody scene presented to their sight on their arrival at Schenectady, crowd- ed from their minds the object of their mission, and thus gave the enemy an opportunity to proceed unmolested. Although several messengers were afterwards sent, the Macquase re- mained wholly unacquainted with the dreadful catastrophe, until too late to be of any real service. The inhabitants of Albany, in the mean time, were preparing to pursue, when they received information that the whole expedition consisted of 1,900 men, 1,700 of whom were destined to Albany : this at once put a stop to the expedition, and prevented any from leaving the city that day. ' On the next morning, (February 10th,) ihe tike we > des- patched to bury the dead, with orders to follow the enemy, pre vided a sufficient number of friendly Indians could be: at Schenectady to render such a course advisable. These were followed in the afternoon by twenty-five volunteers under Evert de Ridder, (recorder of the city,) and the whole joined by another party on the next day, (February 11th D When the third party reached Schenectady, Lawrence, who had been in pursuit since the 9th instant, had just. returned with information that the enemy were only two hundred strong: this intelligence gave those collected at Schenectady, for the purpose of rescuing the prisoners, (twenty-seven in s 272 number,) prospects of success. A great fall of rain, however, kept them in the city until the next day, (February 13,) when they were joined by the Mohawks, who had heard of the mas- sacre and come to their assistance. Thus reinforced, they were about leaving in pursuit of the Indians, when they were again hindered by the confession of several Indian prisoners, who affirmed that when they left Canada, six hundred men were preparing to march against New-England or Albany. While this inactivity prevailed at Schenectady, Lawrence and his Indians, who had left for the second time, kept close in the rear of the enemy: at one time they were within a ‘day’s march of them, and would undoubtedly have surprised them, had they not been discovered by some Indians, who were in pursuit of two captive negro boys that had escaped. This induced the French to increase their speed, while their pursuers who had at the commencement performed two days’ journey in one, were too much fatigued to overtake them. When arrived at Crown Point, some of the party in pursuit were unable to proceed further, although the enemy were not far in advance. A few, however, continued the pursuit for some distance from the shore, and were only stopped by the smoothness of the ice. The French had foreseen this, and provided themselves with skates and ice-spurs; these, with the horses taken from Schenectady, enabled them to escape from their pursuers, and arrive safe in Canada. In reviewing the event detailed in this paper, it may not prove uninteresting to search for the causes that led to it. The French had already made several unsuccessful attempts to draw the Iroquois from their alliance with the English and attach them to their own interest. The opposition always manifested to a treaty with them, was traced to the influence possessed over their minds by the Colonists. ‘This influence, as has already been noticed, was not supported by force, but was the legitimate consequence of an upright course of con- duct towards a people possessing a high sense of honor. Thwarted in this attempt, the French had recourse to force of arms, and hoped by a grand display of a large and well dis ciplined army, to press them into their service: this not only wastes a disregard of every principle of justice, but also evin- ced a total ignorance of the Indian character. The sarcastic and bold reply of the Sachem Garrangula (when threatened with war) to De la Barre, who led the expedition, soon con- vinced him, that although the Indians were desirous of peace, they would not submit to any humiliating terms to preserve it. Notwithstanding the disastrous results of this expedition, De Nonyille, who succeeded De la Barre as governor of Canada, determined to invade the territory of the Iroquois. The great preparations which he made seemed to promise success, but the determined resistance of the Indians discovered to him his error, and ultimately brought upon the French the just retri- bution of their crimes. The Indians in their turn became the assailants ; and their adversaries soon found they had no common foe to deal with: their progress was marked with desolation and blood, and in one of their descents into Canada, they destroyed one thousand of the inhabitants, besides taking a number of prisoners. This blow was severely felt, and had it been seconded by a spirited assistance from the Colonists, the French, no doubt, would have been driven from Canada. It was at this critical juncture, as has been related, that the disturbance occurred at New-York; this gave them a respite from the vengence of their siciindiai and enabled them to recover from the effects of their depredations. All their efforts to subdue the Iroquois had not only proved fruitless, but had always been followed by severe punishment ; it became, therefore, a subject of no little importance to the French, how the bond of union existing be- tween the English and the Iroquois could be severed : this ef- fected, the rest could be accomplished by the intrigues of the priests. 'T’o have made another forcible attempt to break their league with the Colonists, would have evinced a hardihood of purpose little short of madness, From three Frenchmen, residing at Saratoga, they received intelligence of the disturbance at New-York; and with a cun- ning that characterized all their intercourse ‘with the English, G 274 determined to send an expedition against Albany. This de- termination originated, no doubt, in the belief that some signal blow upon the settlements of the English, would convince the Indians of their weakness, and thus bring about an armistice. With this belief they planned the expedition, which resulted in the destruction of Schenectady. If the Colonists had remained united, there is ‘little reason to believe that the French would have andettalén an expedi- tion which, in all probability, must have resulted in a total dis- comfiture. Besides, a united effort on the part of the inhabi- tants, was all that was necessary to defeat the enemy, after they had reached the very gates of Schenectady. There can ~ be no doubt, therefore, but that the expedition arose out of the dissensions of the Colonists; and to Leysler and his partisans must be attributed its fatal consequences. _ hh eh eas 3 a Art. XIV. Annuat Appress, delivered before the Alba- ny Institute, April 1838, by James PRRASPON, Esq. GENTLEMEN: THe Bnitéry of the Jast five hundred years exhibits, through a series of events, often extraordinary and por- tentous, the grand characteristic of a constant and ra- pid improvement in every species of knowledge. The mind of man seems to have awakened from the dark slumber of the middle ages, as if strengthened by its long though troubled rest, to disdain every limit and throw down every barrier which it had ever acknowledged be- fore. The first century of this period produced the dis- coveries of gun powder, of the art of printing, and of the new continent; and the commencement of the next was marked by the birth of a new philosophy, by which, in physics, the properties of matter, the laws of motion and of organization were soon to be developed: and in ethics, the true principles of society and the constitution of go- vernment determined and defined. About the middle of this important period, lay societies, unconnected either with the civil or ecclesiastical establishments, and intend- ed solely for the encouragement of literature and science, were first organized, and have since been much multiplied in every part of the world—I have therefore thought it not inappropriate in discharging the duty at this time confid- ed to me, to make the subject of this annual exercise a consideration of this last mentioned feature of the mo- dern age. In which I do not mean to wrong the Insti- tute by an historical memoir of the names, founders or eleves of different literary institutions, either in the old world or in the new—but to treat briefly of their general history—of the distinguishing qualities of some of them, and of the influences which they have hitherto exerted, A 276 and may yet be expected to exert upon the literature and science of the time. For the attempt I bespeak your usual forbearance. Nor can the theme, as I think, be deemed by any one unsuited to the occasion, when we reflect that since the revival of letters such societies have identified themselves with the interests of knowledgesand of good ; and have been the most effectual instruments in ameliorating the condition of our race, by making prac- tical new branches of industry, and improving all the elder departments of science and the arts. -_ eee ee The causes which produced these establishments. be- gan to operate about the middle of the fifteenth century. Previous to that time, all learning had been in the hands of the clergy. The seclusion of their lives, and the un- disputed authority which they held over the most pow- erful princes of the time, had enabled them to preserve all the relics of ancient knowledge which had escaped the pillage of the barbarians. They had also improved the leisure of their vocation, and become authors them- selves. The monks are our earliest historians—in the monasteries were the first chemical laboratories,* and mn the broad = the sandalled foot, the first trespasser upon the broad, quiet domain of natural science. Nor have their writ- ings, though voluminous, been of little use.t To the Benedictines we are indebted for the treatise on the art of verifying dates, as well as for all we know of the his- tory and language of the northern nations.{. The gay Froissart describes himself as “ priest, canon and trea- surer,’? and Copernicus and Gassendi were both eccle- Siastics of high Standing.§ But in process of time a bar- _ barous patronage on the one hand, and a false _philoso- _ phy on the other, had indurated the mildness and ruined the simplicity of the first faith: while the wealth of reli- gious communities had corrupted the order- bass _ At the same time the cruelty of the fierce nobles of the Period had driven their vassals to question the hitherto po- ‘tent charter of divine tipht Weresias were in the church, *See Note 1. tSee Note2. +See Note 3... §See Note 4 and rebellion in the state, and the world wore an aspect importing danger and discontent, and commotion and e.. In such times to investigate any principle or publish any discovery, is certain to procure both denun- ciation and punishment. The heads of existing establish- ments will always connect the progress of knowledge with that of innoyation, and. attribute them to the same cause... The clergy, therefore, from having been the pa- trons, became the enemies of science; and those of the laity who in any way added to the mass of knowledge, became liable to charges of sorcery and magic, inferring punishments, at the name of which our ears tingle now. Under such circumstances, associations among philoso- phers. became necessary to protect both themselves and their discoveries from the scandal of ignorance and the license of power. These associations were proscribed, and of course necessarily secret—their members being bound to each: other by oaths of fearful import. They , themselves of the little then known. of che- mistry. and natural magic as a defence against the vul- gar, and hence were stigmatized by opprobious epithets, and charged with practising unhallowed mysteries, hav- ing for a confederate the devil. There can be but little doubt. that such was the original Purpose of. those frater- ities; which at this time, and s Ys» extended themsel nder diff tn names , over the wholeof Bx Eu- neem They. were at first societies for mutual protection and the advancement-of knowledge, but by preserving only the formal and unnecessary parts of their constitu- tion, came at last to be both useless and dangerous. - Previous to the reformation and dawn of civil liberty, philosophers of different nations held mystic communica- ‘tions. with each other by means of these combinations, and inthis way new facts and new principles were com- municated to those best able to comprehend them. Their knowledge however was held to be private and forbid- den, and science in their hands took deservedly the epi- thet of occult. 278 But the developements of science at this period were too splendid to admit of concealment. By the aid of the new philosophy, the laws of planetary motion had beer discovered, and the investigation of the motive force was in progress. The social fabric had been analyzed and just principles of government established, and men of genius of every nation seem to have arisen at once, and consentaneously to convict error and purify the world. — It was discovered, however, that, while this process had been going on, much had been lost from lack of concert. The same principle had, at the same time, been elaborated by different philosophers, and disco- _veries had been made of which it was difficult to fix the paternity. These considerations, together with the operation of those natural affinities which men of sci- ence have always for each other, produced about the middle of the 17th century the establishment of nation- al academies.* The earliest of these was the Re Academy of Sciences of France, which commenced its sittings as a private association in 1629, was patron- ized by Cardinal Richelieu soon after, and established by Royal Edict in 1635. It was remodelled by sucee constitutions in 1666 and 1689, under the reign of the same monarch, (Louis XIV,) and patronage of the same minister, and reorganized at the revolution as the Nation- al Institute. About the same period originated the Roy- al Society of London, which, though only chartered im 1660, had held its meetings privately at Oxford, under the style of the Philosophic College, as far back as 1638. Next in order of time were founded the Academia del Cimento of Florence, and the German Academia Natu- re Curiosorum. These four, which may be consider as the germ of modern science, produced soon aft academies of Petersburgh, of Berlin and of Stockholm, among whose associates have been numbered the mo distinguished men of their ages. There was no longer any reasons for concealment, when princes became the Ban ag LITE TID LEE, RE gage A * See Note 5, er the patrons of science, and its peaceful honors were held more ennobling than those — either in the forum or the field. — It is a fact deserving notice, that all these associations originated in the immediate neighborhood of universities which were then old, and some of which still survive, though like the heavy gothic structures in which were located, they now serve only to shew that learning for a long time required to be immured and protected. The meetings at Oxford, of which the peaceful Richard Cromwell was one of the first members, would have been proscribed under the monarchy: and it was urged at Pa- ris, as a main reason for the Academy to accept its first constitution, that they would be otherwise obnoxious to the penalties enacted against unauthorized assemblies, and might under a less wise government be punished and suppressed. We must also remark that the main purpose of these new establishments was the encouragement of science and the new philosophy. There had undoubted- ly existed private societies of an older date, both in the universities and among the religious orders, tending to the same end—and the Benedictines and the Jesuits we know were zealous cultivators of science. But these influences were confined and characterized by the more ' their profession, and were besides lia- ble to a vice of which it is important to be aware. The mere association of learned men, though it give unity of action, correct any habit of thinking peculiar to the in- dividual and increase the mass of knowledge, will yet in time produce an evil much more incurable and danger- ous to the object of true philosophy, the spirit of system, by which men come to appropriate principles as they do chattels for the sole reason that they have been to them the object of labor and care, and to defend and propo- gate them sometimes to the extent of persecution, with- out considering that new observation and new methods may have already proven them to be false. This is the evil which renders reformation and reorganization neces- 280 sary to all human institutions, and its effect will be much augmented on such as are destined for scientific objects, when they are connected either with the government, or religion, or public education of a country. For itis the object of all government to keep things as stable and constant as possible, and though we have passed the age when an increase of knowledge can be supposed to threaten the safety of existing establishments, still the spirit. of philosophy which is constantly grasping at new truths, suffers and is repressed when connected with in- stitutions whose principles to be efficient must be consi- dered as fixed. The mere object of association could have been attained in the several universities, particular- ly in the universities of Germany, which had long before the reformation given a character to the public education of their country. But as these were then clerical esta- blishments, and the polemicks of these days not of the most: orderly character, they could hardly have offered an adequate remedy to the evil of which we have spoken. — It was to be avoided in the organization of natio1 ; academies by keeping them disconnected from any doml- nant or militant sect of religion, and as much as posst- ble independent of the government. The vice which rendered the schools and universities of the earlier times unfit agents for the improvement of the sciences, had been many years before distinguished by the illustrious Bacon. And his description of it presents one of the greatest evidences of the clearness, the purity, and the depth of his perceptions. The passage is from the Novum Organum,* and is so characteristic that 1 shall be excused for quoting it at length: ‘In the customs and institutions of schools, universities, colleges, and the like conventions, ‘destined for the seats of learned men and the promotion of knowledge, all things até found opposite to the advancement of the sciences; for the readings and exercises are here so managed, it cannot easily come ‘into. any one’s mind to think of ‘Sie 281 things out of the common road. Or if here and there one should venture to use a liberty of judging, he ean only impose the task upon himself, without obtaining as- sistance from his fellows: and if he could dispense with this, he wil] still find his industry and resolution a great hindrance to the raising of his fortune; for the studies of men in such places are confined and pinned down to the writings of certain authors, from which, if any man hap- pen to differ, he is presently reprehended as a disturber and-an innovator. But there is certainly a great differ- ence between arts and sciences and civil affairs: for the danger is not the same from new light as from new com- motion. In civil affairs it is true a change even for the better is suspected through fear of disturbance, because these affairs depend upon authority, consent and reputa- tion, and opinion, and not upon demonstration. But arts and sciences should be like mines, resounding on all sides with new works and farther progress; and thus it ought to be according to right reason, but the case is in fact > otherwise; for the above mentioned administration and policy of schools and universities, generally op’ and greatly prevents the improvement of the sciences.” “These opinions of Bacon, so early expressed, and sehich 3 ins their fellas’: sense, might oem epplitstts sary sin corroborated. nearly in’ our own’ ‘times, by Adam Smith, Playfair and Babbage.* The remark of Smith, which being made with more temper than the criticisms of the others, is entitled to more credit, that ‘the great- er part of universities have not been very forward to adopt improvements after they were made: and that seve- ral of those learned societies have chosen to remain for a long time the sanctuaries in which exploded systems found shelter and protection, after they had been hunted out of every other corner of the world,’’} should be good ground for us to believe that in general much of the old mischief may belong to establishments of more recent * See Note 6. + Smith’s Wealth of Nations, Book 5, Chap. 1. 282 date. This error was, however, intended to be eradica- ted in the constitutions of the first free associations, and — for that reason only it has been necessary to speak of it now. It is said that the first foundations of this class, those of France, England, Italy and Germany, were based upon the suggestions of Bacon. But of this there is, to say the least, much doubt; and it is much more reasona- ble to suppose that their first constitutions were deter- mined by the circumstances of the time. The distin- guishing quality of the English Academy is its entire in- dependence of the government, or rather this was its dis- tinguishing quality at the period of its birth; and we may suppose this rather to have been the consequence of ac- cident than of any pre-cognition on the part of its first members. Originating during the civil war, and before the nation had approached the eminence of wealth ant power to which she’ subsequently attained, it was not at the time of its foundation, accounted of sufficient impor- tance to have any public function assigned to it, or to hold any relation with, or receive any emolument from the government. Its operations have therefore been st milar to those of any other corporation, and its expem have always been defrayed by subscription. The govern- ment have often availed themselves of the science which — it embodies, and patronised it by advancing its members to public stations, but other than this it has had no pro- tection or patronage. This peculiarity distinguishes a from all other European societies of its class; and has been the cause, perhaps, why it has operated so power fully as a regulator and promoter of science throughout the empire. The lectures of Sir Humphrey Davy, chemistry, are said to have done more for the advance ment of that single branch, than all the other instruction of that day.* The want of professors and pensions has been the subject of complaint among the English them- selves, while foreigners have in general considered it as an advantage, and lauded the English education as being more practical than that of any other nation. The effect wnat ; en ee a * See Note 7, 283 of the Royal Society of London upon the science of the English nation should be of more interest to us, from the circumstance that the constitution of associations for si- milar purposes, among ourselves, will probably much re- semble it, and though recently it has been the subject of much censure, its original operation was altogether benefi- cial. Containing among its members men distinguished in every department of literature and science, it was little liable to error arising from the spirit of system, while the renown and dignity ofits character made always an admis- sion to its body, the highest honor which could be con- ferred upon men of learning; and even now, if age have impaired its force, and lessened its usefulnes, it has not fallen without rearing about it a progeny of younger as- sociations, originating perhaps in disappointment or in rivalry, but following in freedom of action and discus- sion, the steps of their distinguished predecessor.— Among them we may notice the British Association, which has now held its seventh annual meeting, and contains near 1900 members. The other European Academies are of different organ- ization, having salaries and pensions, and holding gene- rally situations of profit in the administration of the go- VERRIER ae this way it may papper that men, distin- affairs, become mem- bers “without ‘the necessary ~ acientific attainments. Of this arrangement, also, it may be said, that though it place all the science of a nation at its disposal, and ena- ble it better to support the national industry, and to se- lect from its population those citizens best qualified to execute its projects, either in the arts, in commerce, or in war, it yet lies open to the defect alleged against the old universities, a proneness to act from the spirit of sys- tem, and bring science, which should be always free and growing, into a fixed and immoveable state. That this has not yet been the case among societies so constituted, has been partly owing to the emulation existing among themselves, partly to the very rapid advancement of sci- B 284 ence, which has kept it unshackled from any arrangement of the schools, and perhaps, also, to the fact, that the honors and emoluments of these institutions have almost always been conferred upon the most learned and deserv- ing, without regard to creed, to business, or to nation. The bounty of Louis the XIV., brought to the French Academy, from Italy, the elder Cassini, and from the Netherlands, Huyghens*—while Cardinal Richelieu, as if to atone for the persecutions which science had recent- ly suffered from the church, compelled Gassendi to come to Paris, and lecture upon what the worthy divine was pleased to call, in his apologetic discourse, ‘‘ the profane science of Geometry.”? From this period, the French Academy continued to advance in reputation and influ- ence, and contained at the commencement of the revolu- tion a body of talent, such as had scarce ever been col- lected before. After a suspension of two years, between 1794 and 1796, it revived as the National Institute, and with a constitution differing essentially from that of the Academy. The number of members was augmented to eighty, and divided into departments. That referring to mathematical and physical, holds the old designati of the Academy of Sciences. There is then the Academy of Inscriptions for antiquities; the Academy Francois, for belles lettres or French literature; the Academy of Arts, and an Academy for the political and moral sciences. The members receive each a pension of fifteen hundred francs, and may, therefore, in virtue of their seats as Academicians, be considered functionaries of the go vernment, of which indeed the institute is a department. Upon its reports are grounded all public operations, con” cerning the arts and sciences, the national industry public education. It examines by its committees the treatises of its members, and those intended to be used for instruction, and the present arrangement ‘and depend- ance of schools, now used in France, was discussed and perfected at one of its earliest sittings. In this way 3 a 25, RE aaa a * See Note 8 nee 285 acts directly upon science, and has hitherto done so with a beneficial influence ;—and has been stimulated perhaps to greater exertion, by the revolutions so frequent in France, by the emulation growing out of its foreign con- nections, and also by its relation to the military science of the country, which since the time of Louis XIV., has been collected in a species of military college. at the de- pot de la Guerre. The other European Academies resemble this, and dif- fer from the English, in that they are connected with the government, and even still more dependant upon the bounty of their sovereigns, by whose mere authority they have always been created. The distinction, therefore, between the French and English, presents all that can be interesting to us in considering similar establishments among ourselves. An our own country, though the public instruction be in some cases under supervision, all other societies for the promotion of literature haye been entirely free; and if as yet no one of them have arrived at such predominance as to entitle it to the character, or enable it to perform the functions of a National Academy, this has, perhaps, arisen partly from the youth of the nation, which, con- sidering only piilitg, discredits and discourages abstract science; and may, perhaps, in some degree be attributed to the oounlae of party spirit, which, though it ma may be necessary to the safety of the’government, does by no means tend to the advancement of knowledge. It affords indeed much room for speculation, to think how any in- stitution combining the strength of the science and litera- ture of the whole country, shall first become accredited. Whether the continued rivalry between free associations, shall, in time, produce such excellence in one of them, as to give it preponderance and authority; whether some department of the government, having the management of scientific projects may become virtually invested with the functions of a National Academy: or, whether the government, feeling, in this instance, its duty and interest s 286 coalescing, may not directly or indirectly interfere to establish one: For, whatever may be said of the general diffusion of knowledge and of liberty, it cannot now be argued, that our science will ever be judiciously patron- ized at home, or represented abroad, until some such power exist among ourselves.* From recent experience we cannot expect the action of the government in favor of general science, for there is no clause in the constitu- tion, which, by the broadest implication, could sanction such an exercise of its authority; and even if such seru- ple should be avoided, it would only produce the defect of connecting science with government, which, from ex- perience in older countries, has been found not often a wholesome or happy contract. We must therefore regard the first contingency as the most probable, and that the rivalry between free literary associations, is in time des- tined to produce an excellence which shall be acknow- ledged by all; and it is therefore of interest to us, aS members of a society instituted for the encouragement of literature and science, to regard our affairs in t is as- pect, and our relations to others of the same class. it were to be insensate and unreasonable to suppose that the same causes which have operated upon other nations, are not to act upon us! When we find streams that do not leave their sources, and men who will neither grow old nor rich, we may perhaps expect the tub of Diogenes again to be occupied; but that the arts, the honors, the excellencies which have strengthened and adorned other states, are not destined to be ours, is a heresy; in —— (we would all say with acclamation) we do not believe That a National Academy or power, having general authority in matters of science, must soon arise in this country, and that either from the effect of competition among the free literary associations, or from the gee age of the government, is, I think, proven by @ et instance, which I will mention. The United States Mil tary Academy,t which was at first a free scientific ass0°° * See Note 9, + See Note 10. ail ation, (and about the constitutionality of whose endow- ment there may well be some scruple, though for aught I know it has never yet been weighed) was founded un- der the superintendance of General Williams, in 1802; and has already had a decided effect even upon the pri- mary education of the country. This Academy was the first to bring into notice the recent authors of France and Germany,’ in Mathematical and Physical Sciences, and ive Geometry was taught orally to its students by Professor Crozet, as far back as 1817, when the name of that science was scarcely known in the elder seats of learning. At that time, in our colleges and academies, the text books were nearly as old as the time of Newton. Simpson and Bonnycastle, and Maclaurin, and Vince, and Enfield, were then the divinities both in pure and mixed mathematics. These have since given place to the better adapted treatises of modern times, and all those who haye noticed the progress of this improvement must be aware that the example of the Military Academy, and the increased value of its instruction, contributed in no small degree to hasten the period of this judicious change. This instance may serve to show the effect of government. patronage on such subjects. If we consider Sen the effect of competition, the ‘between ws ee ee ie en, ae I ef page i Hterary of education, in whith the defect incntent to the eid saan uni- yersities of Europe, does not so much obtain, or will be corrected in the rivalry betweenthem. It would be use- less to enumerate all of either class. The American Philosophical Society founded in 1769, has distinguished itself by the extent of its correspondence and consequent value of its collections, and in this has been ably sup- ported by others. Among us, however, these societies have hitherto failed or faded with the genius from which they originally emanated, and the vigor of an association of many individuals seems to have been limited to the life of a single man. Franklin founded the American 288 Philosophical Society, (I believe when he was a printer.) It is now known more by its library than its transactions. Bowditch sustained, for many years, the American Aca- demy of Massachusetts, and he is dead; and we who have numbered among our associates, Clinton and Fulton, and Mitchill and De Witt, are not we failing in the obli- gation consequent to so high a descent. Let it not be so. The boundaries of human knowledge have not yet been franchized, and there are realms before us as wide and as fertile as those which we have left behind. But setting aside all hope of a National Academy, and supposing that Agrarian notions are to be introduced into the realm of intellect, (which God forbid, for the sublime ‘sciences of Phrenology and Animal Magnetism, would then cease to exist,) let us look at the offices which free literary associations have hitherto performed, and in what way they may be expected to operate upon Us) They have hitherto insured the continual extension of science, which would otherwise have become cramped in the schools. They correct individual habits of think- ing. The geometer, the experimenter, the historian, the moralist, the artist and the poet, each of whom individa- ally would treat the same subject differently, according to their respective tastes and occupations, by incorpora- ting in these societies, transfuse their distinguishing qua- lities to each other, and cover the solid material of ‘sci- ence with the graces and beauty of literature and learn- ing. The geometer gives certainty to physics, and prunes the redundant images of false rhetoric—the histo- rian learns to treat events as the philosopher does things— the moralist throws round them all the strong tie of duty and obligation, and the artist gains felicity of device and celerity of execution. - Itis impossible that bodies so con- stituted, should ever adopt a rule or limit for any one of their pursuits. The spirit of system can gain no vantage ground here, without falling Ease the pass and free incensed points of mighty opposites.” : Nor is this all, projects are constantly originating, which 289 affect deeply the manufactures and commerce of nations, and require to mature them, combinations of science and talent both high and rare. There can be no agent more capable to integrate and arrange such attempts, than an association embracing the best accredited knowledge of a country. In the old world National Academies were originally devised, and have id been used for sai purposes. — And again, in the progress of science, dinebvetictn are often made, which at first seem of small importance and little value, except that the pleasure of having made them has repaid the philosopher for the time spent in the research. Of such discoveries the world will constantly ask, ‘‘ What is the use of it ?’? And the philosopher, if unsupported, might be dismayed at the query, as if his labors, though successful, had been fruitless. But in an association of this class he is sustained by the general alliance of the sciences.* He has discovered, at least, a _ mew truth, made one step in advance of his compeers; and whoever increases knowledge and widens the circuit of thought, though he may not save labor or make bread, has benefitted his race. It has been in the halls of free literary associations that theories have been first elabo- Tate - which were at Brat pasa the compprehension of wealth to nations, new branches of industry t ie utes had been overpopulated, and delight to men of science throughout the world. Suppose that Lavoisier, when he had discovered oxygen, had been asked by a sans culotte of the Committee of Public Safety, of what use his dis- covery would be to the world. The good man would have probably answered, my labor has been repaid by the pleasure attending discovery, my ingenuity has been ex- ercised, I can therefore do more, and the world will ap- preciate my /abors. He could not have foreseen the im- mense realm which he had been opening to investigation, or the almost numberless classes of industry which were * Bee Note 11, 290 soon to be employed in completing the conquest to which he had pointed the way. In sustaining therefore men of science, when their labors may seem profitless to the vul- _ gar, learned societies perform an office for which these seems no other appointed agent. = There are also other auxiliary functions performed by learned societies, which it is important to. notice; an first, itis on the records of these transactions thatwe must chiefly depend for an accurate history of the ; Tr 0- gress of science. The history of science considered ab- stractly is of more value, than we would at first suppose- Nor-can perfection be attained in any one department of knowledge, without a proper comprehension of the pro- gress which has brought it to the state in which we find itnow. Ido not believe, for instance, that a man could be a good watchmaker, who should merely know how to construct the newest pendulum or last invented scape- ment. The art in his hands would be apt to be station ary and unimproveable. To be accomplished in his bu- siness he should have traced the successive improvements from the time of Huyghens upwards; understanding w ell the primitive arrangement and its defects, and how ' have gradually disappeared by the application of human labor and ingenuity. Without knowing this he would be apt to go backward instead of forward, superinducing 4 improvements combinations which had been tried and dis- carded before. In like manner, he might scarce bea good astronomer, who should know merely the state of the science now, even though he had sounded the depths and mastered the transcendencies of Delambre and La Place. Indeed, he would not be very apt to attain such excellence, without having followed the history of ast¥ nomy from its origin. _The announcement of the true theory by Copernicus; the proof of the first instance by Galileo; the patient labor of Tycho; the sagacious cer: tainty of Kepler; the skill of Huyghens and Cassin, and the far reaching invention of Newton, all suc . each other in building up the science as it is noW, and it can scarce be understood in its perfection, without under- standing the process by which it has been improved. In- deed, in the last treatises upon any science, the first prin- ciples which were proven till they had become familiar, are at length merely announced as dogmas; the reason- ing from which they were derived is forgotten or lost, and can only be supplied by retracing the st os by which it had, 1 in the first instances, been ascertained. As an nple of this we may note, that, in nearly all the En- Arithmetics, the principle of the Arabic notation, the very base of the science, is not explained at all, though a proper understanding and use of this is said to have first recommended Pestalozzi to the public notice. The use of the principle had made it common, and by common authors its bare annunciation was accounted sufficient. But apart from the aid which a true history of science gives to its disciples, learned societies are of use in preserving chronicles of its progress, and insuring that the origin and manner of any invention shall be as well known as the invention itself. They exhibit, as it were, the crystallizations of thought, and show the modes in which mental effort has been directed to any one point of consideration; and in that way will always prevent the uncertainty which attaches to the works of philosophers of | earlier times.. We do not know, for in- stance,* that Descartes had ever read Bacon, and there is some doubt whether he have not appropriated thoughts which originally were not his own. Twenty-five years after the publication of the Optics of Descartes, Dr. Gre- gory, of St. Andrews, discovered by his own effort, the law of the refraction of light, never having seen the work of the French philosopher in which it had been first de- monstrated. The rule called Cardan’s rule, for the irre- ducible case of cubic equations, is said not to have been his invention, though first published by him. And the question, whether Leibnitz or Newton first discovered the principles of the differential calculus, was for many years * See — 12, _ 292 .a source of jealousy and quarrel among the learned men of Europe. Even in our own day, the credit of having succeeded in a difficult experiment in electro-magnetism, made about the same time by our associate, Professor Henry, and Mr. Faraday, has been secured to our coun- tryman, merely from his having announced the results in a communication to the American Philosophical Society. These associations, therefore, by preventing discontent and bickering and jealousy among men of science give a certainty to their labors, and a moral excellence to their characters, which could scarce be attained m any other way.* Hogs Such associations have also much influence in prevent- ing the vicious and demoralizing effects of empyricism and pretence. We are not long in discovering that it does not require much knowledge of a science to be able to talk about it: And we have all met men of very plausible but shallow attainment, who have nevertheless held fora long time reputations to which they had but little title. But when men associate, and are actively engaged in scientific or literary pursuits, such dissimulation can be but of short duration. When minds come into contact with each other, the weak always bow to the powerful, nor is there any panoply by which ignorance may be made either defensible or strong. In such combinations therefore, talent always finds its appropriate place, and those who have for any length of time been thus connect- ed, have an acknowledged value entitling them to great er trust, and of course enlarging the sphere of their"use- fulness. Men thus associated, have also greater indivi- dual influence in society than they could otherwise pos- sess; and are enabled to a very great extent to direct @P" plications of industry and of ingenuity, which may chance to fall under their observation. It is, for instance, es uncommon thing, to find imperfectly educated mechanics and artists, wasting time and skill and money upom PFO jects which are either impossible or useless, and which — chreeerers eet ae * See Note 13. 293 any one having competent knowledge, could easily de- monstrate to be so. Such misapplications can always best be corrected, when the science of a nation or a com~ munity has been a long time concentrated and acknow- ledged; and is, of poe plopenty 2 omit and re- garded with confidenc But associations me the dino tiiagOnet of hafittal science in particular, are the more necessary in our coun- try, from the nature of the government and character of the public education. It was remarked by the Earl of Chatham, previous to the war of the revolution, and when the measures which produced that event were first agi- tated in the English Parliament—that the Americans were a nation of lawyers, were of course peculiarly sen- sitive in matters of right, and snuffed tyranny in every breeze which crossed the Atlantic. This description would answer nearly as well for us now as it did then. Those who have reached the highest places in the coun- cils of the nation, have with scarce an exception risen from the profession of the law—a pursuit which, though it imply a knowledge of literature, and some of its con- comitants, does by no means encourage or tend to the cultivation of physical science. Indeed it will not be thought unjust in saying that lawyers are more apt than any other class of men to practise upon the maxim that ‘the proper study of mankind is man,”’ and eschew all material relations and agencies as unworthy their atten- tion. This may not always be the case, but where it is not, will be found to have arisen from some aptitude or bias in the individual, and not from the tendency of his employments. In consequence of this legal character which belongs peculiarly to our statesmen—when scien- tific projects are entertained by the government, it is long before they are properly understood, and having no na- tional academy or similar eutablishensie:; upon whose re- commendation the government can-rely, they become en- tangled in the formalities of the departments, in the ma- zes of party politics, in the jealousies of different branch- 294 es of the public service, or are confided to the sordid ma- nagement of contractors and speculators. This defect will only disappear where such projects can be primari- — . ly discussed and arranged in an association purely sci- entific, with whose deliberations pecuniary or party con- siderations can have no place. age It is also upon the libraries of such societies, that we must chiefly depend for the more rare and valuable works, not only of the past but the present time.. And this, to us, is of more consequence, inasmuch as our opportuni- ties of procuring relics of primitive learning, become every day more and more unfrequent, and the risk of their being lost in private libraries is always very great. Ido not mean to vindicate or recommend the yocation | of the mere bibliopole, who estimates the value of his collections by their binding, their date or the width of ir margins—though even in this regard, as settling eras in typography, and exhibiting the gradual improve- ment of the art, such varieties are not without their use. But in a more extended sense, there are productions. of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries which must always be of interest, and which for certainty of arrangement, and purity of diction, haye not since been equalled. The works of Copernicus, of Kepler, of Galileo, of Descartes, of Malebranche, of Haller, of Pascal and Montaigne, ways in literature and in Science, to be a connection be- tween the great of one age and the great of the next- The Sceptres of men of genius are never barren of given to 2 hand unlineal, as the poet’s disappointed king complains. Shakespeare gleaned much of the legendary lore of wile the ground-work of his happiest conceptions was forll- ed, from the long poems of Chaucer and Gower and others. We may conceive Milton to have been much in- debted both to him and to Spenser, and Scott has exhi- bited as much industry in collating the poetic history and early ballads of his nation, as in giving them back again to the world in the fresher and lighter creations of his own. We know, in the bibliomanie of the times, that single folios have been ground down and melted up into dozens of volumes of the size and character which suit the lighter reading of the present day. In view of this, Doctor Johnson prophesied that the time was fast coming when men would write only duodecimos and paragraphs; while the facetious Sterne exclaimed against fabricating new books as quacks do new medicines, by pouring out of one bottle into another.* But besides antique or standard productions, there are books even of our own day, which from their size and number can scarce be expected to pass through new edi- tions, and which, if not preserved now, must become rare and difficult of access. It would, for instance, even now, be almost impossible to procure a complete copy of the Transactions of the Royal Society, or of the Academy of Sciences or of the National Institute; while of the Me- mois of the Berlin Academy, there is, I believe, but a single c omplete copy i in the country; yet all these works are of great value and comparatively recent date. It is also more incumbent on us to collect and preserve the works of the distinguished authors of our own lan- guage, from the peculiarly light, and comparatively worthless character of English productions of the pre- sent day.. The poets, as Scott, Byron, Wordsworth and some other of their cotemporaries, will undoubtedly oc- eupy high and permanent places, and mark an era in the language. But of more useful writing whether relating to history or to moral or physical science, there are not many treatises which may expect to be remembered even for halfa century. The public taste seems to have been * See Note 14, 296 vitiated by romance, and all the efforts of human ingenu- — ity to have yvolatilized themselves into fiction. Science has been transmuted into pills, and distilled into extracts so that it is difficult to tell how much either to take orto give. So much as concerns the public instruction is pre- tended to be taught in two and six penny treatises and pretty nursery fables, while the sanctions of religion and obligations of morality are inculcated and taught, not only to us but the heathen, by tracts of about the same dimension and yalue.* Writing is now done by the acre, and seems to have no definite purpose but the support of the trade; for it would be utterly impossible for the most ingenious casuist to assign any other object for nine tenths of the productions with which the press at present teems. So far as the mature part of society is concerned, this state of things is bad enough, but considering the interest of the young, it is still worse. It cannot be a judicious system of education to begin with the fancy and leave the reason to mature itself. By such means the judgment becomes discursive, uncertain and unsound; and we lose the ability to profit by our industry or observation. To improve any of our qualities they must be confined and exercised, and not left to run riot through whole worlds at once. As corroborative of this, we notice that under the older systems of education, which, though absurd enough in some things were certainly not deficient In strictness, the growth of both literature and science “er not only luxuriant but strong. ‘ tends to ‘This legerity of education and literature also tep demoralize it. As an instance I will remark that in the i t accounted time of Johnson, French newspapers were no proper to be read in English families by reason of their levity and the loose character of their descriptions- The tables are turned upon us now, and English newspapers, are in general held discreditable among the French, 10¥ reasons which the perusal of many of our public journals will make sufficiently apparent.+ a * See Note 15, - + See Note 16. We are therefore led, however reluctantly, to the con- clusion that the character of English learning has for some time been gradually loosing weight. Indeed this was almost a necessary consequence after the splendid demonstrations of the last century. Such eras are al- ways followed by an age of imitation, from which we can not expect the bold and strong developements of origi- nality and invention. But in these matters as in every thing human, the downward tendency has alwaysa limit, at which some strong hand arrests and sustains the sub- ject, and gives it an impulse and direction towards new excellence. We may therefore hope that we are now approaching a new era in literature of a higher and more rational character. These remarks will not be deemed invidious. Babbage’s reasons for the decay of science in England, though in general characterized by petu- lance and acerbity, are nevertheless, not groundless, and though a refutation has been attempted, it has not been either satisfactory or triumphant. If these premises be true, and the expectation of a change for the better be as reasonable as I have supposed, the effect of associations tending to combine science with literature cannot fail to be a most efficient agent in has- tening such results. For without discussing the more minute and particular causes alleged for the decay of science in England, such ‘as the exclusive character of the universities, and the inaction and silence of their pro- fessorships, we may notice that nearly from the time of Newton a prejudice has been at work in England, whose direct effect must be to disparage science by detracting from its uses, and to emasculate and unnerve literature by washy or trivial subjects. Up to this time, English literature and science had been closely allied; there had till then been no boundary drawn between them, from which the domain of the one was accounted luxuriant and benignant, and that of the other harsh and sterile. The poets till then had remembered the advice of Quintil- lian, that there is no science or art with which they should 298 not be familiar,* so Milton was not ashamed to understand astronomy, which knowledge he has in some passages turned to much account. Nor were philosophers unstudi- ous of, or inattentive to, the graces of diction, so Raleigh wasa poet. But from that time in our language, these two departments of intellect seem to have been at feud with each other, to their mutual injury. The consequence of this has been, that the literature of the day deals with passion and not with knowledge, and that science is loosing its attractions and becoming repulsive and stern. To show that is not too fanciful a supposition let us no- tice a few of the exhibitions of this contrariety. In an English Review of a few years back, which I am not able now to refer to, Professor Playfair is com- plimented for having been able to write elegantly on an abstruse subject; a compliment which the Professor cer- tainly deserved, but not for the reason that an abstruse subject may not always be clearly explained. We all remember Butler’s account of the elephant in the moon, said to have been discovered at one of the first meetings of the Royal Society, a lampoon which proves nothing but the poet’s ignorance of the science of optics. The moon story of New-York is still fresh in our recollection, and was upon the whole a much better affair than that got up by the author of Hudibras. But of heavier a thors the sarcasms upon science have been just as de- cidedly pronounced. Gibbon, who devoted some of his earlier years to mathematics and philosophy, congratu- lates himself that he had escaped from such uncongenial pursuits “before his mind had been hardened by the habit of rigid demonstration so destructive to the finer feelings of moral evidence.” It is nevertheless, not imp e that Gibbon may have derived some of the piquancy of his style from the early studies of which he speaks 5° disrespectfully, or that by a more continued application to them his moral susceptibilities might not have been rendered more acute than they were. To be convinced eee ae cus * See Note 17. of the deleterious effects of such prejudice, and to what extent it has attained, we have only to refer to the pre- lude to the first canto of a poem entitled the Loves of the Triangles, and dedicated in ridicule, to Dr. Darwin. This production was on its appearance attributed to no less a genius than that of George Canning, though for- tunately for his fame, this ascription is now known not to have been correct, and the paternity of the piece has been assigned to a less distinguished personage. It however serves to show that we are not altogether mis- taken when we attribute any deficiency in the literature or science of the present day, to the prejudice by which they have been separated. And we are the better enti- tled to hope that this incapacity may be removed from the knowledge that a similar state of things existed upon the continent about two centuries since, and that it is not to the same extent to be found there now. - About the time of founding the first independent asso- ciations, the literature of the continent and the public taste resembled much what exists now among us. The poets and writers of fiction were in the highest repute, and amused themselves in pasquenading the university and the doctors, who were held as sufficiently unintelli- gible to be worthy of such notice. But after the acade- mies had reconnected the two departments of knowledge each of them obtained an increased value. In the French particularly, the language acquired a certainty which it had not possessed before, better fitting it for the demonstrations of science, while its increased associa- tion produced a fineness and delicacy as much available in the more graceful developements of eloquence and poetry. We can easily conceive that the effect must have been beneficial when Colbert and Cassini and Ra- cine and Bossuet occupied adjoining seats in the new consistory of science, corroborating by union the pro- ducts of their individual genius. And this consolidation was the base for all the triumphs that followed—from this period ridicule upon science became among French- D 300 men less frequent, and the literature of the nation im — creased both in mass and in time. The parallel between these times and our own, pre be sure, not perfectly just. But the effect of the incor- poration of literature and science at that time, is felt now, and a new and better growth may arise from a re- newal of the connection. ~ I have thus endeavored to trace the history of com lie terary associations, and to show their uses in the old world and their probable effects in this. They seem to have arisen with other free institutions, and to a great extent to have contributed to the modifications which the primitive governments of Europe have gradually taken. In France, as I haye shown you, they have already be- come a part of the government itself, nor is it improba- ble that such may be the final result in our country. They have contributed to sustain the alliance between science and literature, which is too apt to be interrupted, to forward and mature industry, and to benefit our whole race by improving education. If such have been their effect in the old states of the world, we surely are not wrong in supposing that among us it will be alee and at least as beneficient, rer di NOTES. NOTE 1. ** And the sandalled foot, &c.”’ Shakespeare has made his Friar Laurence not only a gardener and botan- ist, but also a physician. The Friar was however, not a Thomsonian, as he did wee exclude minerals from his practice. Oh, mickle is the powerful grac In herbs, plants, stones and their true qualities, For stich so vile, that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.” Romeo and Juliet, Act 2, Sc. 3. — - ‘* To the Benedictines we are indebted > monk Nestor wrote Annals of Tansia i in 1073. The community of St. Maur produced the treatise on the art of verifying dates. The Jesuits and priests of the Oratory also ese voluminous collections—the clergy of that day were the ‘keepers of all archives, and masters of diplomacy, and had always with them the seit’ of history. Speaking of the Bene- dictines, Chateaubriand a with feeling—‘‘ Let us first render a surpas- sing o the school of Benedictines, who can never be replaced—if I were not panei on the soil of my oa wed I had R head a a wd poco ipa ner pase einmeed Fistriqus, Tome ty aiigeom 26. “NOTE Bs! a The gay Froissart Froissart Froissart’s would be accounted rather uncanonical at Present,— ** Well I loved,” says he “ to see dances and carrolling, well to hear y and tales of glee, well to attach myself to them who loved hounds and hawks, &c.”’ Froissart and his times, by B. St. Leger. NOTE 4. “< But in process of time.’ There are many descriptions of these times, showing what were the real causes of the mis-rule which produced the reformation, and all concur in laying the chief blame upon the monks—the following are from St. Le- 302 4“ For as the ascetic virtues of the first cenobites mainly contributed to the establishment of that authority by which the church obtained such exten- sive dominion, so did the vice and luxury of their successors contribute the destruction of their power. This likewise became the case in laical governments when the vices and oppressions of the rulers, by straining the cord too tightly broke it, val letting loose the tide of human strength and feeling, gradually led to the abolition of ultra i and to the a of national freedom.’ * Hence arose that war against letters, those Sectiasieie whic ch charae~ terized science by the name of sorcery, and that determination to punish every one who attempted to enlighten his fellow creatures.’”’ ; As also Scott— : O aye, the monks, the monks, they did the ae Theirs all the grossness, all the ease tio Of a most gross and superstit age— May He be praised that sent *a healthfal seme per scattered all those”pestilential vapors But that we ow’d them all to yonder harlot, Thron’d on the seven hills with her cup of gold, I will as soon believe, with kind Sir Roger That old Moll White, took wing with cat and progeantsty raised the last night’s thunder. Monsitity; Chap. 1 . NOTE 5. The academy of inscriptions now incorporated in the National Toate is of older date than the academy of sciences ; but its duties referred en: tirely to Archaeology and diplomacy. The English claim that the Royal Society of London, is of older date than the academy of sciences} but this is not probable. We have no account of the meetings of the English soci- ety previous to 1638: While the history of the French academy, by M. Pellisson, written in 1729, makes certain the dates of its principal transac tions. He says, “ The French academy was not established by edict of the King, till the year 1635, but we may place its actual origin four or five years ars earlier; 0 this was the result of accident. Those who speak of the academy of hu- morists at Rome, say that it commenced fortuitously at the nuptials of Lo- renzo Mancini, a gentleman of Rome where certain persons of condition pe oy elyes about amusing the ladies: and as it was the carn ag to recite sonnets and , from which they took the si Bel comedies hum ori. And in time, having iineensibly acquired a taste for such exercises, they — to —— st eeeleny of Belles = te * * “The French seaioatg did not in truth, Siiptinta’ from a similar rencontre But it is certain that those who commenced it — ss nothing less gore what has since arrived. About the year 1629, certain dividuals be in different parts of Paris finding nothing so scivecsant in that great city as to call often upon each other and find no = at home, resolved ad ‘ once a week at the residence of one of them. 303 These meetings, in the course of afew years, were made known to Car- dinal es by means of M. Boisrobert, a counsellor of state, who e been a man of genius and of a mirthful and happy temper ; two qualities which are not often found together. The Cardinal’s physi- cian was used to prescribe for his eminence, when fatigued with the cares of state, a quantum suff. of Boisrobert’s conversation. ‘‘ My lord,’’ he would say, ‘‘ we will do all that we can for your health, but all our drugs are se unless you mix them with a little of Boisrobert.’’ Cut mediately offered to the academicians his protection, a constitution and PTE which they at first hesitated to accept, but finally did, ritige from fear than affection. : Vide Pellison, Histoire de V Academie Francois. NOTE 6, ** Of the defects of the universities there are — coinciding opinions. The eee § is from Professor Playfair’s dissertatio ‘* There are always great numbers of men, ‘its sli m habit, indolence or fear, are the determined supporters of what is established, whether in prac- tice or opinion. To them the constitutions of the universities of Europe so entirely subjected to the church had added a numerous and learned pha- lanx, interested to preserve the old systems, and to resist all innovations which would endanger their authority or repose.”’ Page 141. ities Spies ‘ nots ts “ The want of steepest Hume i e following passage— ‘* Amidst the thick pres at colganty and ignorance which overepresid the nation during the commonwealth and protectorship, there were a few aednic philosophers who, in the retirement of Oxford, cultivated their rea- and established conferences for the mutual communication of their dis- covetics iit physics and geo ometry. Wilkins, a clergyman who had married ( Ss afterwa eet Chester, Sites these conversations. se men procured a patent, and having saieraee ther — donated the Society. But this patent was all t aeaiied from the king— though Charles was a lover of the sciences, edaiedy chemistry and me- chanics, he animated them by his example alone, not by his bounty. His craving courtiers and mistresses, by whiotn he was perpetually surrounded i ats all his expense and left him neither money nor attention for lite- rit. His contemporary Lewis, who fell short of the King’s genius this does great honor to his memory ; and in the eyes of all the ingenious part of mankind, will be esteemed an atonement for many of the errors of his - oe . These remarks of Mr. Hume deserve criticism, in as much as they are evidently tinctured with the prejudice towards the Stuarts, which always warped his opinions. He seems here to have forgotten, both that the first 304 meetings of the new society were held at the house of the Protector’s bro- ther-in-law, (this I believe was the case, but cannot refer to an authority,) and under the Ist Charles all such meetings would have been star chamber matters—and he forgets also, that the 2d Charles, thoughjhe gave the society a charter, did nothing more. He to be sure, mentions both these circumstances, but does not seem to have connected them consequen- had no reason to blame the protectorate for an improvement which would have been punished under the monarchy—and yet he says, ‘¢ amidst the thick clonud,’’ &c. as if siti all these evils to Cromwell. There is no sequence in the argument. Gassendi died fifteen years after this compulsory process of Cardinal Richelieu’s. His apo sige soovenne 3 is even - ——_— in a eo to which I cannot now refer. ation, page 259; and in the Histoire des Mathematiques par Montucla, Tome? page 237,—“ The Cardinal Richelieu compelled him in spite of his to accept the chair of a professor royal, which he filled till 1655, which was the year of his death.”” He was an ecclesiastic of great knowledge, and an exemplary life, thd in every thing the truth of his fai puddin his practice enesliahes of his ROTE 9. It is perhaps, wro to say se * pag sentian antho rizing the satioaigs = science ; the sections relating to commerce and. tbe currency, might cover such object by implication, but they have been often used before for other purposes, which would weaken their influence now- The only clause in the constitution referring directly to science, is regulating the patent office—which is as follows : “The congress shall have power to promote the progress © useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and Anyegiete clusive right to their respective writings and discoveries.” f science and the ex- NOTE 10. The United States Military Academy, was at first, @ among the younger officers of the army, for mutual ae by General Williams, and in time received the patronage of the 2 vernment—it has richly deserved it. The fact of its being a free scien b association is what I wished particularly to refer to, and this a pore, reference to Governor Clinton’s discourse at the first ree gk ae ry and Philosophical society of New-York. (Page 21.) jation it was NOTE 11. wit Omnes artes qua ad a pertinent habent quoddam comm vineulum, et quasi cognatio me ‘quadam inter se continentur. Cicero. Toutes les verites ‘deviennant plus lumineuses les unes par Jen antene Puffendorf: 305 eae eee TE 12. , Descartes never once mentions Bacon—though it can scarce be credited that he had not seen his works. The followmg suggestion of Professor Playfair has more semblance of truth than we could wish. ‘* Descartes paid little attention to those who had gone before him, and, as already re- marked, never once mentioned the Archbishop of Spalatro. Like Aristotle, he seems to have formed the design of cutting off the memory of his prede- cessors; but the invention of printing had made this a far more medent neiinhion than it was in the sti of the Greek philosopiaew Playfair’ s » page 192. 13. The ifdlewing notice explains the circumstance alluded to. The principal facts of the paper on the influence of a Spiral conductor re January, 1835, and an abstract ore pin A as will be seen by the fol- lowing extract: from the March No. of the Franklin Journal. To the C ee on Publications. —The American Philosophical Sulake at their last stated eset ing, authorized the publication of the following abstract of a verbal communication made to the society by Professor Henry, on the 16th of uary | memoir on this subject has been since submitted to the society, containing an extension of the subject, the primary fact in relation rved by Professor Henry as early as 1832, and announced by him i in the American Journal of Scien nce. Mr. Faraday having recently imilar rvati the immediate publication of the accompanying is important, that the prior claims of our fellow coun- vy ay not be overlooked. Yery respectfully yours, A. D. Bacue, ou a * Secretaries Am. Philos. Soc. OTe ix ee eee “ Tell me ye learned, shall we forever be adding so much to the bulk and so little to the stock ?—Shall we forever make new books, as apothe- caries make new mixtures, by pouring only out of one vessel into another ? the same track. days of eternity, on holydays as well as working days to be shewing the relics of learning, as monks do the relics of their saints, without working out one single miracle with them.” Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, vol. 4, ch. 1. ** On trouve aujourdhui beaucoup d’hommes qui savent ecrire une cin- quantaine de pages, et quelquefois un tome — trop gros) d’une maniere fort distin guee: mais des rae capables de composer et coordonner un ouvrage etendue, d’embrasser un systeme, de le soutenir avec art et interet pendant le cours de plusieurs | leas ily éna tres peu: cela demande une force de judiciare, une longueur d’halejne, une abundance de diction, une 306 faculte d’application, qui diminuent tous les jours.. La brochure et I’article de — semblent etre devenus la mesure et la borne de notre es esprit. — les Historiques, Tome 1. —— Se Be NOTE 15. ‘This may at first seem strong language, but on reflection I cannot bat think it just. The principle of modern education seems to be to learn chil- — dren to speak of sciences which they do not understand. And the manner in which arithmetic, geography and history are taught in nearly all our schools, deserves unqualified lesiaul In the treatises used on these subjects the memory only is thought of, and a reason not at all, and un- Indeed, it is little matter whether they mde or not. I have known some youths of no ordinary intelligence, who if they could have been by any process made deaf and dumb, and sent to institutions where these unfortu- nates are taught, would have made rapid progress, but who never could learn any thing (even spelling,) under the ordinar y administration of the Stories written for young readers. There are few, iia out those written - Miss ecpisbeds, — — a, — are even tolerable— indeed, if echani skill should advance r me to come, aii oe daa for the ieee years that aed past, children wins male these z _ for themselves; for if there can be of the prin ciple of the kaleidoscope, (a thing #08 improbable’i in ‘the age of Babbage, ) and the story of Whittington and his eat, (which is I believe, one of the oldest if not the best of this class of fables ,) be subjected to its operation, by which we may vary infinitely, the relations and titles of the personages, as Polonius says, ‘according to the place and the addition of man: country,” all the class of blue, yellow and green books, stories of Lady peescerd ae Squire Teachums, which make at present the = “a “Je me ap dans un roman de Pestalozzi, la restitution de sue ques pommes de terre par un enfant qui les avoit volees. Sa grand me a mourante lui ordonne de les reporter au seman du jardin wl Prises, et celte scene jusqu? au fond du cour—Ce pauvre © ae l'on peut s° exprimer ainsi, causant de tels seit: la solemnité de la mort par le a- et bien mal, car dans nos fictions poetiques, les pourpres de la destinee saga gent un peu de la pitie que causent les revers; mais I’on croit voir aie romans populaires | une foible lampe eclairer une petite cabane, et la bon For the fact.” 307 NOTE 16. That French newspapers were not accounted decent in England, i time of Doctor Joh think, mentioned in the Rambler, but I have not been able to find the pas- » That at —— newspapers are now not held polite in France, I know examination of the police reports in the daily papers sage. merely verbally. ef New-York, will ee explain the reason, i NOTE 17. The following passage from Milton, shows that he had read both Ptolemy and Descartes. ance with Ptolem i yr) ‘¢ He his fabrick of the heavens Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions made Hereafter, when they come to model heaven, And calculate the stars, how they will wield mighty frame, how pS unbuild, contrive gird the — With eentstc and ae ie n vediitded 6 Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb.”’ ‘This passage is quoted by Professor Playfair to show Milton’s acquaint- my. Dis sertation, page 122. NOTE ee 18. The Matwiey wis opening of the first canto of the Loves of the Tri- angles. ‘Stay your rude steps, or e’er your feet invade The muses’ haunts, ye sons of war and trade ! Nor you ye legion friends of church and law, Pollute those pages ith unhallowed paw ! touch your spieealigs mind; “ you no Postulates prefer their claim, No ardent Azioms your dull souls inflame, For you no Tangents touch, no Angles meet No Circles join in oscillations sweet. For me your Assoids round my temples bend Your wandering curves. Ye conchoids extend: Let Playfol Pendules quick vibration feel, Lea gh Let shrill Acoustics tune the tiny lyre ; With Euclid sage fair Algebra conspire, The obedient pully strong Mechanics ply And wanton Optics roll the melting eye. E 308 I see the fair fantastic forms appear The flaunting drapery and the languid leer, Fair sylphish forms who tall, erect and slim, n glance and stretch the length of limb, e gay wreath and titter as they prance. To show that this disrelish for science which has been so long felt in England, is not an entire stranger in America, I will refer to the stanzas from Halleck, one < the sweetest and most talented of our poets. here she learned by hear ; h Dioptrics, optics, catoptrics, ca Chlorine and iodine and aerostatics; Iso why frogs for want of air expire And how to set the Tappan sea on fire! Fanny. ; Art. XV. Eulogium on the Life and Services of Smcon De Wirt, Surveyor General of the state of New-York, Chancellor of the University, §c. By T. Romeyn Becx, M. D. Delivered, by ap- pointment, before the Albany Institute, April 23, 1835. bs FreLttow Memsers or THE InstiTvE, How true is the remark of the moralist that mutabili- ty is the lot of man. A short year has only elapsed, since our departed friend was amongst us and took an active interest in our concerns. Now we are assembled, to mourn his loss, to enumerate his services, and to en- shrine his virtues in our memory. » I feel myself hardly worthy of conducting your thoughts on this affecting occasion. No one regrets more than myself that the gentleman unanimously selected for this office, was unable to fulfil his engagement.* He would have brought to the task talents, which rank him high in the service of his country, the first dawnings of which were cherished and fostered by the friend he now mourns. I can only follow with unequal steps. Yet an effort however brief, however imperfect, may find some favour, when it attempts to trace and improve the life of a pa- triot, a scholar and a christian. Simeon De Wirt, our late venerable vighsleaidens inherited a name of high and rare distinction. In an age fertile of heroes and great men, amidst wars and tumults, in contest with England under Cromwell, with France under Louis XIV., the immortal John De Witt Maintained the honor and glory of his native land, de- veloped its resources, extended its commerce and gave it *James Ferguson, Esq., formerly American Astronomer in adjusting the North Western Boundary—now engaged in the national work of a Survey of cur Coast. 316 a place among the ruling powers of the earth. Yet he fell a victim to popular fury, and his death was a foul stain on the republic which he had governed with so much energy and patriotism. 2 From that country the ancestor of Mr. De Witt emi- grated, probably some years previous to the period just no- ticed. He was among the early Dutch occupants of the then colony of the New-Netherlands—now our own state of New-York. The family appear to have settled in Uls- ter county, and here, in the town of Wawarsing, on the 25th of December 1756, Mr. De Witt was born. His father was Dr. Andrew De Witt, a respectable and in- telligent physician, and his mother a Miss Vernoy, of an emigrant Huguenot family in the same county. At this early period in our history, the means of educa- tion were but scantily diffused, yet it is a mistaken idea to Suppose that they were altogether deficient. Private in- instruction in many instances supplied the want of public institutions, and the clergy, as in other countries, were efficient agents in preserving and transmitting the living lights of learning. After having received such an Eng- lish education as the means of a scattered agricultural population could afford, he was placed with the minister of the town, and an intimate friend of his father, the late Rev. Dr. Romeyn, of Schenectady, for the purpose of classical instruction. Here he was prepared for college, and in due season entered Queens (now Rutgers’) in New-Jersey, under the presidency of the late Rev. Dr. Hardenbergh. i He was not however destined to complete the ye scribed course in quiet academic shades. The stirring times of our revolutionary conflict were at hand. Great Britain, not deterred by the determined spirit that man fested itself at Lexington and Bunker-Hill, sent a™Y after army to conquer her rebellious colonies, and the contest threatened to be long and bloody. The battle of Long-Island was followed by the evacuation of New" York and the unwilling departure of the American at™y 311 across the Hudson. It was not permitted to retreat un- molested. General Howe pursued the flying Americans to New-York and from that to .New-Brunswick, and again from New-Brunswick to Princeton and Trenton, where his tide of suoeges was suddenly ohpokas by the Ere this, saneter, the college had been aa by the British troops, and the students dispersed. This was either at the close of Mr. De Witt’s junior or the com- - ‘mencement of his senior year, and he must have been at this time nearly twenty years of age.* He returned to his native home, pursued his studies as he found opportunity, and passed much of his time in the family of his uncle, General James Clinton, then a colonel in the revolutionary army, and father of De Witt Clinton. With Gen. Clinton and his brother, Governor George Clinton, he wasa greatfavorite. From them and from his father, he could not fail inspiring the principles of true patriotism. During the next year, the formidable incur- sion of Burgoyne roused all the military spirit of the state. A battalion was organized in Ulster county to join the American army under General Gates, and with this Mr. De Witt marched as volunteer adjutant. On arriving at the seat of war the men were incorporated into a regi- ment already existing, and being thus deprived of his temporary command, he fell into the ranks as a private, and in this capacity was present at the battles which decided the fate of Burgoyne, and at his subsequent sur- render. The service being ended, for which he and his com- panions had volunteered, he again returned to his fa- ther’s house. He pursued his mathematical studies, combining with these, an attention to the practical busi- ness of surveying. Not many months, however, had elapsed, before General Washington, in a letter to Ge- * He received the degree of A. B. from Queens College in 1776, and of A. M. in 1788. 312 neral James Clinton, enquired whether he knew of any person who was qualified to act as Geographer, or, as it would now probably be termed, Topographical Engi- neer, to the army. Mr. De Witt was immediately re- commended by him, and he was accordingly appointed in 1778, assistant to Col. Robert Erskine, then Geogra- pher in chief. How well and how satisfactorily he per- formed his duties, may be inferred from the fact, that on - the death of Col. Erskine in 1780, (and not his resigna- tion as has been erroneously stated in some accounts,*) he was appointed head of the department. The commis- sion under which he served I have here before me, and you will permit me to read it as a relic of by-gone times. The United States of America, in Congress assembled. _.. To Simeon De Wirt, Esq. Greeting. _ We, reposing especial trust and confidence in your patriotism, prudence and fidelity, do by these presents appoint you to be Geographer to the United States of America from the fourth day of December, 1780. You are therefore faithfully and diligently to discharge the duty of Geographer to the United States of America, doing and performing all manner of things thereunto be- longing. And you are to observe and follow such orders and directions from time to time as you shall receive from this or a future Congress of the United States, oF com- mittee of Congress for that purpose appointed, a com- mittee of the states, or the commander in chief, for the time being, of the army of the United States, according to the rules and discipline of war, in pursuance ° the trust reposed in you. This commission to continue In force until revoked by this or a future Congress, the committee of Congress before mentioned, or 4 committee of the states. ai 5 Rtg Se * In Congress, Dec. 4, 1780, Resolved, That Simeon De Witt be — ed Geographer to the Army in the room of Robert Erskine, tee tract from the minutes. Charles Thomson, Secretary. [From the origiss! now in my possession. ] aoe eer 813 Witness his excellency, Thomas M’Kean, Esgqr., Pre- sident of the Congress of the United States of Ame- rica, at Philadelphia, the eighth day of September, and in the sixth year of our independence. THOMAS M’KEAN, President. On the 16th December, 1780, he was ordered to head quarters at New-Windsor, by General Washington, and continued attached to the main army until the end of the campaign. In the memorable march to York-Town, he, with his assistants, was constantly employed in survey- ing the country along the route of the army, and was pre- sent during its siege, and at its surrender. Thus, ‘‘ha- ving had the signal good fortune to witness the surrender of the two royal armies of Burgoyne and Cornwallis.” The war, as is well known, lingered for a year or two after this, and as the prospect of peace brightened, he became anxious to receive a discharge. On application to General Washington, however, he was answered that his office was such, that Congress might possibly still have occasion for hi services, and he, therefore, did not conceive himself authorized to grant it. At the same time Mr. De Witt proposed a publication, the fai- lure of which cannot be too much regretted. I will use his own language in addressing General Washington. “Since the army is now about being disbanded, and as I suppose the public will stand no further in need of my services, and consequently include me among the number of those who receive their final dismission, I therefort ask from your excellency the last favor of a discharge, and beg the acceptance of my sincerest ac- knowledgements for the honor I have had of serving un- der your excellency’s particular direction. All I regret is, that the poverty of my country and myself have not permitted me to make my office more extensively useful. “Tt made application last summer to congress for per- to prepare the maps in my possession for publi- cation. To a committee appointed on the business, I pointed out their usefulness; that, though no direct ad- 314 vantages would result to the public, every light that could be thrown upon the transactions of the war was due, not only to the solicitude which every individual has for his country, but more particularly to the merits of our prin- cipal commanders, whose proceedings in all these parti- culars have hitherto been, and will continue to be pried into, with the greatest eagerness, in every part of the globe. I represented that in every civilized nation, where circumstances prevented the progress of the liberal arts, it had been the business of government to lend every encouragement. That in the present case, the inunda- tion of catchpenny maps, which, upon the commence- ment of peace would probably be poured upon us from Europe, and which can there be executed with a facility that must discourage every attempt of the kind in this part of the world, would render such an undertaking too precarious for me to venture upon, at my own risque. That all I desired was to be assisted in going through the business and indemnified in the end. ‘‘ The remarks on the opposite side were that the state of our finances was in so low a condition, that the strict economy they were obliged to observe, forbade the ap- plication of money to any thing but the numerous ne- cessities which urged their immediate relief. That this was not an affair which claimed a primary regard, and therefore it was not very probable that congress Won! second the proposals I made.” Os In a subsequent communication to the president of congress, dated Jan. 12, 1784, he observes, ‘CTF the ex” pense of bringing my maps to a farther degree of perfec- tion by additional survey, be judged to be needless, } have this proposal to make. I will undertake, 7 the best manner I can from the materials I have, a8 much as shall be conveniently contained in one plate, and pub: lish it at my own risque, provided I am furnished from the continental treasury with cash sufficient for the pur ‘pose, on account of the pay now due me from the Unt ted States. Probably a thousand dollars will be sufi B15 cient. I make this stipulation with the greater assur- ance, as I have not had the indulgence extended to me by which others of the army, who, like myself, have not been patronized by any particular state, have received on the settlement of their depreciation accounts, con- siderable proportions of the balances due them. From the impressions of one plate, I shall be able to judge, whether it shall afterwards answer to undertake any more at present.”’ The reply of General Washington to this application is taken from an autograph now in the possession of this society. - It is as follows: Mount askin 3d March, 1784. Dear Saipan By the interruption of the post, your letter, dated the 12th of January, never got to my hands until Sunday last. I have urged, not only in public, but in private con- yersations with individual members of congress, the pro- priety, | indeed necessity, of having accurate maps of the United States, and they know full well my opinion of your worth, and ability to execute them. All seem sen- sible of these, and yet, the want of funds, I suppose, stops this, as it does pany other wheels which ought to be moving. _The petponltonk. maa in your memorial of the 12th, to congress, appear to. me exceedingly reasonable and just. These sentiments I will express to a very va- luable and respected member of that body, to whom Iam now writing. With great esteem, am, dear sir, Your most obedient servant, GEORGE WASHINGTON. Simeon De Wirt, Esq. The disordered state of the national finances discour- aged this laudable plan, and it was reserved for later times to present these illustrations of the heroism and sufferings of our forefathers. In the prospect of leay- F 316 ing the army, Mr. De Witt turned his attention to the ap- plication of his talents and knowledge to surveying the vast unsettled territory that now lay ready to be occu- pied by the enterprising. ‘‘If a new state (says he,) is to be laid off adjoining Pennsylvania and Virginia as has been expected, I have hopes that from the parity of the office I now hold, and that of surveyor general to such a state, congress will be inclined to transfer me to that department, especially if it be allowable to suppose them influenced by a predeliction in favor of their old servants, who have done their duty with reputation under all the difficulties which the American army had to encounter, and who have lost permanent places of employment by being engaged in a military life.” so 2020 Tn less than three months from the date of this letter, and in consequence of the resignation of General Philip Schuyler, he was gratified in receiving the information that he had been appointed Surveyor-General of this, his native state. His commission is dated on the 13th day of May, 1784—I need hardly add, that he held it more than fifty years. Bie Although New-York was for some years subsequent, the political capital of the state, yet the Surveyor-Gene- ral’s office was by law established in this city, and here accordingly he removed as early as practicable. In the then condition of our State, his duties were numerous and unremitted. The western section was still a forest. It was to be prepared for the residence of civilization, 0 refinement and of learning. In traversing its extensive domain, he could not fail to appreciate its manifold and vast capabilities—its fruitful soil—its abundant streams— its exhaustless mineral riches. Yet, to his high and lasting honor be it spoken, that none of these things moved him from his integrity. He ever desired te avoid aught that could breathe on the purity of his character as ‘a public officer. I state it with pride, as one of the brightest traits in his character, that during the half een 317 tury of his public life, he never purchased a single acre of the public lands.* The boundary lines between the respective states were generally unsettled, at this period of time, but as pro- perty constantly became more yaluable, and the danger of conflicts in territorial jurisdiction increased, a gene- ral desire was entertained to establish them permanently. One of these was the line between this state and Penn- sylvania. Commissioners were appointed by each. On the part of the last, were Rittenhouse, of European ce- -lebrity, and Ellicott, an excellent astronomer and ma- thematician, while from this state were selected Philip Schuyler, James Clinton and Simeon De Witt. The two last only attended to the duties of the appointment. ‘The survey was completed in the years 1786 and 1787, in a satisfactory manner. Are there any gentlemen present who are now resi- demi of the southern portion of our state along the line are § Grhe con was on this subject, his supposed conduct on aiethed point has been made the subject of attack with the formidable wea- pon of ridicule. I refer to the application of classical names to the newly erected towns in the military tract. Whatever opinion we may entertain respecting the taste of this domestication of Greek and Latin cheats 4 cient for me to deny, that Mr. De Witt had aught to do with it that he was not the“ Godfather of the christened West.’’ This line a part of a poetical effusion, effusion, that ared in New-York in 1819. He does not appear to have noticed it, but when the e charge was repeated some some years after in dull prose, by an editor in New-York, he published ‘a satisfactory refutation in the following terms: - ‘‘ The editor of the ——— has done the Riceare Generel ome ingen, by retaining for him the naming of the townships in the military tract, ir a display of his knowledge. The names of these townships, o ie m7! along the St. Lawrence, and of the townships along the somes. river in the vicinity of Pennsylvania, were given by forma! resolu- tions of the Commissioners of the Land-Office. The board then consisting of the Governor, the Secretary of State, the Treasurer, the Auditor, and the Attorney-General, held its meetings in the city of New-York. The Surveyor-Genera eral had his office established by law in the city of Albany, and knew nothing of these obnoxious names, till they were officially com- municated to him, nor had he ever any agency in suggesting any of them.” Let not then this charge be again brought against him, as through igno- rance alone I have even heard it since his death. 318 in question, or are there any who have recently visited it? If so, it may gratify them to hear a brief descrip- tion of the country, by the memorable Rittenhouse at that time. 569) In a letter to his wife, dated August, 1786, he says,— “* It is six long weeks since I have had the happiness of seeing you or hearing from you, and this is the first op- portunity I have had of conveying a letter to you since I left Wyoming. As I cannot hope to receive a line from you until we approach nearer to the habitable world, my next greatest pleasure is to inform you of the favorable state of my health. This seems a different climate from that you are in; the weather is constantly cool, but not cold. We are at present situated on a pleasant bank of the Susquehannah, about fifteen miles above the mouth of the Chenango, one of the principal branches of this river. From this place to Middletown in Lancaster county, is by estimation, 270 miles along the river; much of the road is very bad, so that we had a tedious journey. At Chenango there are a few Indian families settled, amounting to forty souls. Some of these people frequently visit us and bring us fish and venison; in return for which they are very ‘desi-” sirous to have flour or salted provisions, and we live in the greatest harmony with them. Five or six days ag, one of the Onondaga sachems, with his family, came up in three canoes, and encamped in the evening, just below us: General Clinton having prudently brought an interpreter with him, we are enabled to converse, as, although cheer ful and agreeable, they cannot or will not speak a word of English.” He then adds, that Mr. De Witt was taking: a likeness of the daughter of. the sachem, which } hoped to have the pleasure to show her in a few weeks. Thus, in a tent for their only shelter during several months, were these gentlemen engaged in this then un cultivated region, in assigning the metes and bounds of the respective republics. : el Tt is unnecessary for me to dwell on the routine duties of the office he was now holding. They were laborious yy Page Bs 319 from the quantity of land held by the state and the de- tails necessarily needed when any alienation of it was directed. As early as 1786, the legislature had requested his at- tention to the preparation of a map of New-York, and this, after combining his own surveys and those of gen- tlemen associated with him, or acting under him, he was enabled to complete, and afterwards to publish in 1802. Its execution was creditable to all concerned, and amidst the rapid changes that industry and enterprize are indu- cing in every quarter, it may now be referred to, as an index of what we then were.* Were it not for some lanidonarke like this, posterity would hardly credit our rapid advance. The forest changed to a city, the sequestered stream rushing over its rocky bed, becoming the abode of manufacturing in- dustry—the -school house—the academy—the college, erected near the scarcely tenantless wigwam, are only feeble illustrations of our onward march. _ Within the period that I last noticed, the government of the United States had gone into successful operation under the presidency of General Washington. In the appointments to office made by that great man, it is the remark of his biographer, that without regard to private friendship, he looked solely to the qualifications. of the individual. And the history of his administration un- doubtedly warrants this assertion. If there was any partiality, it was towards his companions in arms; men who had fought by his side, endured all the privations of our revolutionary war, and whose country, at its conclu- sion, was too poor to reward them according to their me- rits. That he should select such, was only paying the debt long since incurred. Yet he made his choice with judgment, and an ever steady eye to the welfare and be- nefit of the country. Mr. De Witt was one of those who were not forgotten. * The Map was Ss ae by Fairman, and was one of his earliest pro- ductions. 320 In 1796, General Washington, without his knowledge or solicitation, nominated him to the Senate as Surveyor- General to the United States, and the appointment was cordially ratified. This event was often spoken of by Mr. De Witt to his intimate friends, as the most gratify- ing in his public life, and as age advanced, he appeared to prize it more highly. Well might he do so—it is an honor higher than a patent of nobility, to have attained the confidence of Washington. Let all who can num- ber it among their ancestral memorials, value it as @ jewel of great price. éaks This appointment, however flattering to his feelings he was induced, from the force of circumstances, to de- cline. In his letter to Col. Pickering, then Secretary of State, he says, “‘I pray you to express to the President how much I am impressed with the sense of being favored with this mark of his confidence, and to assure him that nothing but an apprehension of making too great a sac- rifice could have prevailed on me not to accept the of- fice.”? i “In 1798, he was elected a Regent of the University the room of the Hon. Lewis Morris, deceased. This office he held until his death, and for many years was the senior member of the board. In 1817, he was elect- ed Vice-Chancellor, and in 1829, on the death of Lieu- tenant-Governor Tayler, a friend of his early and ; his later days, he was chosen Chancellor of the University. The present is not the time and, in some respects, ts not the place to discuss the services of this board in the cause of learning and education throughout our state. What I have to remark, will be altogether historically. It was conceived, just half a century since, (1786; by our then legislature, that instead of leaving the sub- ject of education to the frequently immature, a6 well as discordant plans ef a body of men coming together id only a short time, and especially engaged in local affairs it-would be well to select a number of intelligent and enlightened individuals and commit this great cause to 321 their fostering care. Men were found who entered on it with ardor and alacrity. Not many years after their appointment, I have seen on their minutes, repeated no- tices of the subject of Common Schools, and they ear- nestly solicited the legislature to give them that stability and increase which our subsequent School Fund has been the means of accomplishing. In the establishment of Colleges and Academies, they looked to the endowment that was bestowed. They understood not the doctrine of political economy, that literary institutions will flourish most, when altogether dependent on temporary and fluc- tuating support. Itis well stated by Dr. Chalmers, and did I not fear to appear arrogant, I would say, conclu- sively argued by him, that there are some institutions in every enlightened country which cannot be safely left unprotected.* The intelligent may and do see the want of education; they understand perfectly, that each en- dowment 3 is more for the benefit of those in middling cir- -and the poor, than for the rich; and they are e aware, as all must be, who look at the subject, that education will be neglected, if the state does not inter- fere to nourish it, to raise its standard, and to encour- age its servants. With such views, in advance at every step of existing establishments of education, we may point to the labors of many members of the board. Among general objects to be effected through the medium of the institutions of which he was a governor, there were two, on which Mr. De Witt had long pondered, and both of which he suc- ceeded within the last ten years in maturing. One was to require from every academy a series of meteorological observations, including the temperature, the quantity of rain, the progress of vegetation, and indeed a notice of all the phenomena that constitute peculiarity of climate. No field could be better calculated for enquiry. Ex- over four degress of latitude and seven of lon- itulee and reaching from the Atlantic to the lakes, our * See Chalmers on Endowments. ee ii pi ere eh 322 state presents a noble area for the solution of problenis : connected with the varied meteorology of temperate re- gions. ‘The directions for this extensive undertaking were prepared by Mr. De Witt. ‘srg Among the interesting results already obtained, direct- ly applicable to our numerous works of internal improve- ment, is the approximation to the actual quantity of rain and snow that fall in various situations, and the effect of altitude or of clearing forests, on this. Among the high- er scientific results, are the deductions to be hereafter made from the simultaneous appearance of the Aurora Borealis in the northern latitudes of Europe, and in this state. Observers in Great Britain are already noticing, with great solicitude, this striking occurrence. ee ~ To another subject, Mr. De Witt devoted equal atten- tion. This was the variation of the magnetic needle. Ina report to the Board of Regents, it was stated, it was very desirable that observations should be annu- ally made on this, in as much as the boundaries of lands are usually described according to the courses indicated by the needle, and there are no rules by which its —_ tions can be ascertained, for any interval of ‘time, ac- cording to which such bounds may be retraced where the land-marks have been obliterated.” As, however, the Regents could not make the duty of observing impera- tive, it was resolved that they would recommend the same, and for this purpose a series of directions wer? drawn up by Mr. De Witt. Several of the institutions have complied with the request, and there is no doubt, but that as they acquire proper instruments, all will «8 tend to it. eyes In connexion with the subject of education, I not omit his long services as a Trustee of the La ; School Society, of which, at his death, he was prer dent. “5 _ On the inception of the canal policy of this state; ae. De Witt was directed officially to cause surveys t? 2 moust ncaster 323 made of the streams and rivers between the Hudson and lake Erie, and for several years, he was associated as one of the Board of Canal Commissioners. - From the account I have now given of his official acts, an idea will readily be formed of the peculiar bent of his mind on literary and scientific subjects. It would, how- ever, be altogether imperfect, were I to omit a sketch of his connexion with societies intended to promote and advance these. Questionable as their utility may appear to some in these days of universal doubt and disputation, I would yet suggest that in this country, much room is left for displaying all their valuable traits. We differ in many respects from scientific Europe. Our means of investi- gation are limited and partial. Our men of science are scattered over the surface of a large country, and can scarcely pursue its progress, except through the medium of journals and societies. That we have abundance of talent, is an every day’s observation, but we are hardly aware how much of it is wasted in oft-repeated enqui- ries, and how frequently it is depressed by finding the pro- duct of years of labor, useless and superfluous. Those who have seen (as several in this society have witnessed) the inventor presenting his supposed novelty, with a feel- ing of hardly suppressed pride, as an offering, not only to science, but also with an impression that through it he will be repaid for months and years of reflection and en- quiry, and then behold his depression, when in some sci- entific work, all that he had thought and labored, is al- ready put down, will scarcely deny that the collision of mind must be of immense service. Itis indeed thus that societies prove infinitely useful. For the successful pur- suit of natural history they are indispensable. Noristhe meeting together without its utility in fostering the so- cial virtues. The oldest society in the United States is the ‘‘ Ame- rican Philosophical,’’ established at Philadelphia. Of this, Franklin was the first President, and Rittenhouse, G 324 the second, and Mr. De Witt was elected a member, at least. as early as 1790, on the recommendation of the latter gentleman. He made one communication to the society, entitled ‘‘Observations on the Eclipse of the Sun, June 16, 1806, at Albany.”’ It is published in the 6th vol. of their Transactions. cepiieece Philadelphia and Boston alone had _ philosophical so- cieties, when one was incorporated in this state in 1793, under the name of the ‘‘Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, Arts, and Manufactures.”? Of this, Mr. De Witt was an original member, he served in various offi- ces, and on the death of Chancellor Livingston, its first and only President from 1791 to 1813, he succeeded him in the chair. . To this body he communicated several pa- pers: two of them deserve particular notice, since — thoughts contained in them were, as you will observe, matured for practical purposes. I refer. to communica- tions ‘fon a plan of a Meteorological Chart, for exhibi- ting a comparative view of the Climates of North Ame- rica, and the progress of Vegetation,” and “on the es- tablishment of a Meridian Line on the public square m the city of Albany.”? Besides these, he read several on Drawing in Perspective, and his observations on this im- portant branch of study, were afterwards enlarged and published in a volume, entitled ‘Tue ELEMENTS OF Perspective.” On Agricultural subjects, he commun cated concerning the extirpation of the Canada Thistle, and a method of procuring new varieties of the Potatoes while as to the arts and natural science, may be, men- tioned his. papers on Heating Rooms, on the Forest Trees of this country, and on a remarkable cold Spring at Ithaca. _ siaEx _ In 1799 he delivered the Annual Address before the Society. Its subject was the improvement of Agriculture, and he noticed with much earnestness the then compara tively novel ideas of rotation of crops, and of the intro- duction of various kinds of grain. In the conclusion; he adduces an illustration of the deep hold that agricul- tural pursuits exercise over the mind, in the fact that the elysium of the Pagan Mythology, and the heaven of Mohammed, owe much of their attractiveness to the deep arched bowers and landscapes which they are promised to contain. The idea is at least poetical, and I am greatly mistaken if it has not been used with effect by some modern poet: i On the establishment of the Board of Agriculture by the legislature, the society for the promotion of useful arts, became a city institution. It possessed a small but valuable library, and many of its members were unwil- ling that this should be dispersed and the society aban- doned. It was thought that a union with the Lyceum of Natural History, and the extension of the objects of the society, soasto-comprehend general literature, might be useful to all engaged, and, if properly sustained, ho- norable to the city. ‘Of this plan, Mr. De Witt was a warm and'zealous supporter. I need hardly add, that it ended in the incorporation of the ALBany InsTITUTE. [rejoice that he lived long enough to be satisfied that his anticipations had proved successful. For this, he labored as much as any of his associates, by his attend- ance, his communications and his donations. Even since his death, in our last published list of donations, we wit- ness his friendship to us, and his remembrance of the in- stitution he so much cherished. = Se _ His published communications in the Transactions of the Institute, are a table of variations of the Magnetic Needle; observations on the functions of the Moon, de- duced from observations made on the great eclipse in 1806; and an account of a new form of Rain Gage. While on the subject of his writings, I may add, that he made several communications to Professor Silliman’s Journal, and particularly was much interested during the commencement of 1834, in discussing the theory of the remarkable Meteors, or falling stars, of November, 1833. A publication of his, on this subject, appeared in the ‘sus newspaper of this city. ° 326 Of his unpublished papers, probably the one of great-, est interest is that on the Theory of Music. He had long attended to this science, and indeed invented an in- strument to illustrate the ideas that he entertained. It is evident from the detail now before you, that his habits must have been those of study and reflection. This indeed was the prevailing bent of his mind, and he delighted to cultivate it. With his time divided between his official labours and scientific investigation, he passed his days in placid serenity, while of late years, he in- dulged himself in summer excursions to his country re- sidence, enjoying and luxuriating in the beauties of na- ture. Thus he lived, and thus, with a firm belief in the doctrines of Christianity, and a full reception of their happy effects, he prepared to die. After the glowing and affecting description by his beloved pastor and friend but a few days since, in this hall, of the state of his mind in the prospect of approaching dissolution, I feel that it is unnecessary for me to dwell on it.* He died in the hope of Heaven, on the 3d of December last, within a few days of accomplishing his 79th year. Philosopher, yet to no system tied; nae pet Patriot, yet friend to all the world beside; Ardent with temper, and with judgment bold; Firm, though not stern, and though correct, not cold; Profound to reason, or to charm us, gay, Learned, without pride, and not too wise to pray. That the loss of such an individual should be felt and deeply regretted, is only paying due homage to departed orth. At his own Ithaca, where he died, and where his remains now Tepose, the inhabitants closed their Places of business, and with one accord, attended the solemn procession to the grave. In their public testimo- ny to his character, they speak of him as endeared to them by peculiar relations, while his official services and worth demanded their testimony of respect and gratitude. The State Society of Cincinnati, in the brief memorial that, alas, in too rapid succession, records the departure * See note. of the few surviving comrades of Washington, enume- rated his military and civil services. Our Chief Magis- trate, and our Legislature, with the Boards over which he presided, have each paid him the tribute due to his unsullied virtues. - The individual traits of his ehayetios may be inferred from the brief biography that I have now laid before you. He possessed, in a remarkable degree, the rare gift of a well-balanced mind. With great equanimity of temper he united firmness of purpose and decision in accom- plishing. His friendship when once formed, was unwa- vering, and most devotedly reciprocated. In the domes- tic circle he was ever attentive, kind and affectionate.* Fellow Members of the Institute, The reverend gentleman who a few weeks since did us the honor to deliver the annual address, feelingly re- marked, that the last year of our history as a society was not sybout affecting memorials. Besides the late Sur- eral, another active and most excellent mem- ber and constant attendant, Cuarites R. WEBSTER, has gone from us. It is a cheering thought amidst the changes induced by death, that we can point to some re- lic, by which our friends can be remembered, and their names transmitted to our successors. Thus, even in our collections, their memory will survive. Who indeed can gaze on the portion contained in yonder recess, without recalling to his mind the lineaments of departed great- ness—who but will drop a tear over the cherished cabi- net of De Wirt Cuinton? Happy, if when our account is made up, we shall be found, each in his appropriate sphere, like our honored fellow members, to have done some service to the com- munity, or the state. Then, whether in the morning of life, or at its fervid, bustling noon-day, or in the declin- ing hour, we depart, our memories will be cherished, and our names “implore the passing tribute of a sigh.’ * Mr. De Witt was thrice married.—Ist to Miss Lynott—2d to Mrs. Har- denbergh, the sister of Colonel Varick, and 3dly to Miss Susan Linn, daugh- ter of the Rey. Dr. William Linn 328 NOTE. [The Rev. Dr. Ferris has obligingly favored me with the following extract from his Annual Address.] ‘The loss of two of the early and distinguished friends of the Institute, during the year, admonishes us to car- ry out our plans of activity without delay. The work of change is going on, and amid the innumerable uncer- tainties of life, we are called, to suffer no opportunities of usefulness in any of its pursuits to pass unimproved. And well may we take as our models in constant useful- ness, the honored friends who have been removed. The name of Cuartes R. Wesster will be long remembered, as of one, who enjoyed the good feelings and confidence of this community and of the older. c habitants in the northern and western parts of this state, ina degree which has fallen to the lot of few. He was identified from his first settlement here, with almost every plan for the improvement of the literary and moral con- dition of this city and this section of our state, and an active Participator in the labors of most of them. His devoted services in the Board of Trustees of the Lan- caster School particularly, have secured for him the bles- sings of many who, cheered by his kind counsel, have made their way through hosts of difficulties and become most worthy members of society. He has left in the mementoes of his great moral and social worth, an in- heritance far dearer to the feeling ect Pee than any pe rishable estate. ‘We have lost arag the year, the venerable first Vice- President of the Institute, Stmron De Wirt; a a man endeared to a wide circle of friends, adorning every sta- tion he occupied in public, social and private life, and crowning every excellence with piety. It is not neces Sary that we should now dwell on the details of his pt tracted and useful course, as we shall soon be called t? . 329 hear these from one, whose long intimacy qualifies. him to speak worthily of such a subject. Yet it is in place here, while we note his departure, to hold up his exam- ple as our model. He was the warm and active friend of this association, availing himself of every means of - contributing to its advancement, and though considera- bly. the senior of those participating in its various duties, coming to their aid with all the interest and enthusiasm of the most animated, and in his last excursions in his summer retirement seeking to add to our collections. Were he now among us enjoying the health of a few years since, I doubt not, he would not only approbate the enlarged policy which has been recommended, but be among the first to lend his personal aid to secure it success, and anew employ the pen, he knew so well to wield in literary or scientific or pious purposes. But he is gone—and though departed let his example live in our memories Band be embalmed in our affections and animate us to ce,—let us seek to imbibe his spirit and sdich his * falling mantle. And happy, thrice happy shall we be, if favored with his years we may look back on a life so usefully employed. Happy if, as in his case, in our departure, science shall bless us, our country shall bless us, christianity shall bless us. Christianity? Yes, he, the scholar, the man of science, drank deep, at her perennial fountain. Her principles were the guide of his life, the stay and solace of his soul.* And his last days illustrated her heavenly triumph over all that is trying and harrowing in the separation of the ties which bind us to life, and in going down to “the valley of the Shadow of death.”” This was his language to me a few months previous to his death: ‘‘I have looked with calmness on the approaching event. It has excited no * The time of Mr. — Witt’s connection with the Church cannot be pre- cisely ascertained, yet there is reason to believe it took place many years since. For about oe years he has occupied the place of an Elder in the Reformed Dutch Church, and at the time of his death was one of the most "eas and influential members and elders of the 2d Dutch Church, Al- y: 330 ae horror, nor even a depression of spirits. - I have a con- __» fident and believe well founded trust, that I have become reconciled to my Heavenly Father through our Divine Redeemer and Mediator. And with the prospect of a “ life of eternal happiness, why should I deprecate death who is to open the gate.’? Language worthy the chris- tian sage! He adds another to the proof of the solemn verities of the Gospel; another to the many illustrations of its consoling influence. To all our attainments may we add the heavenly wisdom he enjoyed.”’. A veghw aa pee eee. z yee ie tt oo E Bi: 3 MS: : we 4 a m a ‘ 5 a , (¢/e VFL EA] 331 DESCRIPTION Of a New Animal belonging to the Crustacea, discovered in ~. the Antarctic Seas, by the author, James Excurs. [Cabinet of the Albany Institute.] GENUS GLYPTONOTUS. (Ereurts.) Animal composed of a head, thorax, and post-abdomen or tail, constituting in all thirteen distinct segments. Head deeply inserted into the cephalic segment of the thorax. Eyes sessile, and finely granulate. Antenne two pairs, placed one “above the other, with an elongate multi- articulated filament. Mouth as; in the ordinary Isopods, mandibles not palpigerous; the two superior foot-jaws ae into a well defined lower lip, bearing palpi. ‘Thorax separated into n distinct segments, the three petterior ones biartiontate-nedé thele- lateral extremities ; each segment giving origin to a pair of perfect legs, ter- minating with a strong and slightly curved nail. Post-abdomen, or tail, divided into five segments, provi- ded with neither styles nor swimmerets; the under sur- faces each supporting a pair of branchial leafiets, longitu- dinally arranged, and covered by two biarticulated plates attached to the outward edges of the last segment, closing over them much in the manner of an ordinary bivalve shell. %, SrECiss G. ANTARCTICA. (E:cxrs.) ~ Axrancric ScuLpruRE-BACK. caleis symmetrical, ovate, elongate, and de- pressed. Teguments solid and calcareous. Color, brown Sepia. han from the insertion of the antenne, three nd half inches ; width, one and three-quarters. ransversely elliptical, terminating at its lateral rior corners acutely, and incurved ; anterior mar- sely elevated, and arched each way to its centre. ® oe. ee 332 Superior surface of the head ornamented with an imper- fectly sculptured “ fleur-de-lis ;” posterior portion obtuse- ly elevated, producing a marginal rim. Eyes small, reni- form, indigo blue, and placed near the lateral and ante- rior portion of the head, so deeply impressed in the mar- gin of the shell as to be easily distinguished from beneath. Inferior pair of antenne longer than the superior, corres- ponding in length to the width of the head, transversely, from spine to spine ; articulations four in number; last segment longest, the remaining three gradually diminish- ing in length as they proceed to the place of insertion; segments triangulate, with angular projections on their surfaces ; edges of the angles, and articulating extremities rigidly spined. Terminating filament about the length of the basal articulations, gradually ‘attenuated until it di- minishes to a finely pointed apex. Superior antenne half the length of the inferior, three-jointed, and terminating with an attenuated filament whose articulations are indis- tinct; segments angular, external one much the longest; extremities and angles likewise spined. Mouth with the labrum or upper lip hard and massive, resembling in form a reversed heart. The mandibles are without palpi, stout and osseous, tipped with a hard and black enamel. The maxille are furnished with the usual palpi. The lower lip, or superior foot-jaws when united, sub-cordate ; its palpi five-jointed, snugly embracing the manducatory organs along their base, like a row of ciliated leaflets. _ The thoraz is composed of seven distinet segments, ea one being beautifully ornamented on its superior st by an elongated and sub-conie insculptation, forming x series, whose pointed apices almost unite along the longi- tudinal dorsal ridge. These segments are finelyborm, along their posterior articulating edges by an elevated ® continuous marginal rim, extending to the la . ri mities of the shell. The cephalic depression 1 margined by an eaten” — aaa - Bat 333 of the thorax gives origin, beneath, to a pair of ponderous angulated legs, composed of the ordinary parts. The three anterior pairs project themselves forward, and are closely compressed upon the inferior surfaces of the three foremost segments ; they are monodactyle, with the nails incurved upon the anterior edges of the rather largely in- flated penultimate joint. Each joint is furnished at its articulating extremity with rigid spines; the inner edges of the penultimate joint, together with those of the three adjoining, are provided with a double row of tufted cilia, _ disposed diagonally, and much resembling in appearance the arrangement of hairs in an ordinary brush. The four posterior pairs of legs are directed backwards, strongly triangulate, stout and ponderous, terminating by a slightly curved nail; their length is nearly equal, but they gradu- My i ase in thickness as they recede toward the tail. | The basal joints are large ‘end. inflated ; the remainder regularly angulate. The extremities of the articulating joints, and edges of the two inferior angles, are each pro- vided with a series of tufted and rigid spines. The post-abdomen is composed, of five, Regmente, . The PAN four anterior ones are much st he stitute the thorax, but greatly. resemble ‘them ‘in. form, eing ornamented on their superior surfaces with similar insculptations, though but slightly defined. Each of these segments is provided beneath with a pair of articulated pedicels, which furnish a support to the bifoliated bron- chial leaflets. These leaflets are arranged longitudinally one upon the other, and are entirely concealed by the biarticulated plates of the caudal segment; they are sub- ovate and elongate; the outward ones smaller than those __ which they cover, and are nearly surrounded by a fringed _ Cilia, most conspicuously developed along their inner mar- gins. The second pair are each supplied with an elonga- _ ted style, extending almost to the termination of the _ Caudal segment. The terminating segment is large and ie 334 triangular, giving attachment to the biarticulated plates at a single point on its outer margins near the base, which enables the animal to close them together in a line along its centre beneath. These plates are about the length of the segment, and of a triangulate form, each one having near its termination a small oval articulation. The seg- ment and marginal plates are slightly inflated along their external edges, producing an obtusely elevated border. The segments constituting the thorax and post-abdomen are supplied by a central, angular, and elongated knob, which, when united, form a prominent dorsal ridge, gradually diminishing in its backward course, and form- ing a sharp elevated line along the caudal segment, ter- minating at its extremity in a short and obtusely pointed spine. i “an This beautiful crustacean furnishes to us another close approximation to the long lost family of the Trilobite. I procured them from the southern shores of the New South Shetland Islands. They inhabit the bottom of the sea, and are only to be obtained when thrown far upon the shores by the immense surges that prevail when the de- tached glaciers from the land precipitate themselves | into the ocean. a, a 4 4 eid = C2 PEs anand 5 aoataat a vy — i 1 n of the Pose Tertiary. 5 tivecesainult —a_ Transverse Section shewing the Groored Trenches LITH, OF RICH ? HW, Ana ee, ALBANY. * . Ferruginous san VAS. EIGHTS, DEL. Marl oh ar pn upper portion D. Imbedde : . a Boulder system. I, Small concretions, bedded sand and gravel. . a slide. Wena: : 3 Marly clay. Central posse. G. Marly clay, lower portion by K. Large concretions. L. Sandstone and shales 335 OBSERVATIONS On the geological features of the post-reRTiARY formation of the city of Ausany, and its vicinity. By James E1cuts. Accepted March 4, 1852. ~ The Helderberg mountains occupy ‘a position compri- sing about one-third part of the entire county of Albany. They lie in a southwesterly direction from the city, twelve miles distant ; and may be seen, on a clear day, to form a beautiful feature in the landscape scenery from any of the public highways. The other portions of the county pre- sent the appearance of a uniform level plain of sand, almost completely covered over by a dense growth of pine, with pete other deciduous trees ; but a closer inspection, particularly along the courses of the Hudson and Mohawk ae. ait most of the minor streams that discharge their waters into these channels, will at once exhibit the entire base of the country to be composed of Hudson river sand- stones and shales, Over this an ancient drift or boulder system sometimes prevails, sueceeded by a thick ee ted of blue and drab-colored clays; the latter embracing all over among its different strata, innumerable beds of sand and gravel, the whole mass belonging evidently to a more recent, or post-tertiary period. Above this is spread out _ acontinuous stratum of yellow ferruginous sand, which _ forms the surface of the plain; and however level may _ appear to be the surface of this plain from a distant point __ of view, a nearer examination will disclose frequent hills of sand and depressions of morass, the former drifted up by the winds at a period of time long before vegetation __ had scattered a single seed upon the soil. _ The general elevation of the surface of this plain has _ been ascertained, by actual measurement, to be about two _ hundred and sixty feet above the tidal wave. ____ The clays which constitute this formation are about one 336 hundred feet in thickness, and are for the most part dis- posed in a horizontal position. Its lower portion, where it rests directly wpon the Hudson river shales and sand- stones, is of a firmly compact nature, owing no doubt to the heavy pressure of the superincumbent mass; but, as we ascend in the series, its stratification begins to develop itself, at first at distant intervals, but, on approaching the surface, these’ intervals are seen gradually to diminish in thickness, until they terminate in layers so exceedingly fine as scarcely to be discernible. Whenever this stratification first makes its appearance, the separating material is a remarkably fine-grained pul- verulent sand of a light silvery tinge, closely approxima- ting to white: and this is continuous throughout the re- maining portions of the formation. It is chiefly among some of these seams of sand that the indurated calcareous concretions, so frequently met with in this vicinity, origi- nally derived their existence. These seams of sand, as they approach the surface of the soil, are sometimes seen to expand in such a manner as occasionally to admit a stratum of a fine-grained yellowish sandy clay, from two to four or more feet in thickness, the lower parts of which not unfrequently become interstratified with fine layers of the blue variety beneath, but most generally it is isolated and compact in its texture. The general color of these clays is of a Soop blue or violet, closely approaching a neutral tint; but as we as- cend in the series, it is seen by degrees to lose its fine wni- formity of shade, and at length to assume a more variega- ted aspect. From the deep stone-blue beneath, this entire mass, in its progress upward, exhibits among its numerous strata almost all the other hues in nature, and in oft re- peated alternations ; not blending imperceptibly one into the other, as is so frequently seen, but so arranged in dis- tinct bands as to present an appearance not apse si striped ribands on a lady’s dress. 7 337 This display of colors retains its beautiful appearance until we approach the surface of the clay, where, from long exposure to the influences of sunlight and the wea- ther, its whole upper portion, whenever revealed to the eye, becomes one uniform tint of yellowish drab.» This upper division, or drab-colored variety of the marly clay, is usually separated from the horizontal, variously colored and dark-stained mass beneath, by a single im- bedded deposit of fine-grained, deeply tinged yellow sand, amounting in many places to some considerable degree of thickness. This drab-colored portion of the clay consti- tutes about one-third of the entire formation, and it is through its numerous layers alone that the disturbing agencies appear to have exerted their most powerful ener- gies: The heavy primary boulders and other detrital ‘materials from the northern section of the State, during ‘the violent agitation of the waters which drained and left bare so large an extent of our tillable lands, have grooved out deep and parallel trenches, running in a direction nearly north and south, and, after disrupturing the strata and giving origin to those many faults and slides which everywhere prevail, may now be seen piled up in the greatest profusion all along the base of the heavy lime and sandstone cliffs which form the northern termination of the Helderberg mountains. - This disrupturing agency has, in many instances, forced its way between the strata of this variety of clay at various elevations; sometimes raising the overlying mass so as to cause it not unfrequently to assume the regularly arch- like form, and leaving the intervening spaces completely filled with fine-grained gravel or beds of sand; at other times it has fairly inverted the strata, and thrown them about in every variety of confusion, producing at the same ‘time those singularly twisted or tangled appearances ‘which so often perplex the geologist in his endeavors to trace them clearly out. Immediately beneath this dis- 338 turbed portion of the deposit, the strata are again seen to resume their usually horizontal position. In several situations, and always in connection with this superincumbent mass, are to be observed decided evidences that some partial or local currents of water have drifted the fragments of these broken-up strata, and quiet- ly deposited them over the surface of the yellow ferrugi- nous or overlying sands. These fragments have their angles but slightly abraded, and consequently could not have been brought to their present position from any great distance ; and most commonly they can easily be traced to the parent cliff, almost in the immediate vielnieae of their occurrence. When this disruptured mass of clay comes in direct contact with the subordinate strata upon which it rests, it generally presents the appearance of being placed in an unconformable position by the disturbing agencies, and would, from its absence of color and deranged condition, most readily deceive the eye of an inexperienced observer, and induce him to believe that it had been the result of a distinct and more recent deposition; but a closer in- spection, however, will very soon convince him that they are identically of the same age. The succeeding portion of this formation occupies a cen- tral position, amounting to about a third part of its entire thickness. It is composed of innumerable strata of a re- markably fine-grained, unctuous, marly clay, separated throughout its whole extent by numerous thin seams of @ silvery white pulverulent sand. These strata are, with rare exceptions, arranged in a horizontal position, and the numerous layers by which they are constructed are deeply tinged with red, yellow, and blue, including all the various modifications of tint, presenting to a spectator a richly striped and exceedingly beautiful appearance when freshly exposed to the open light of day. These colors are usually repeated in the strata throughout its 3 : ; “s Co i tid % 4 339 entire extent, but they gradually diminish in thickness as they proceed upward. It is in some of the separating seams of this division that the leaves and stems of plants have been discovered. The inferior portion of this deposition of clay, where it closely approximates to the supporting indurated rocks below, when freshly exposed to view, assumes the appear- ance of a compact cohesive mass, the particles of which it is constructed being of an exceedingly fine nature; but when for a few days it becomes subject to the direct in- fluences of the weather, it most generally exhibits a ten- dency to separate vertically into a rudely columnar struct- ure, much resembling in general aspect many of the = of our Eastern States. aba Scepoation of lay. rests in an unconformable posi- tion nm upon | d shales beneath; but inven sriblainss a more ancient drift or boulder sys- tem intervenes, the currents of which swept in a south- erly direction over the principal portion of the State of New-York, producing those numerous scratches which are so distinctly visible upon the surfaces of most of its rocks, and giving evidence that a long period of time must have necessarily elapsed of tranquil waters reposing over this region of country, in order to leave so uniform a deposi- tion of clay, amounting to about one hundred feet in thickness. It was after the completion of this deposit, that the violent action took place which tore up and dis- located the upper portion of this formation. , _ The numerous beds of gravel and brown sand which are inclosed within this upper or drab-colored variety of the marly clay,—and which, no doubt, were the agents em- ployed in the opening and upturning of its strata,—are of a different nature from the overlying formation of yellow ferruginous sand. The materials which characterize these deposits are for the most part of a greenish brown color, _ and appear all to have been derived from the primary I 340 ranges of the north; not a single fragment of the exten- sive lime and sandstone formations of the Helderberg mountains, twelve miles to the south, has ever yet been detected among them. The sands are almost completely composed of rounded particles of transparent quartz, gneiss, hypersthene, hornblende, and augite, disseminated in about equal proportions; the latter named minerals giving to the entire mass that greenish-brown color that it invariably presents whenever it becomes exposed to the sight, and which readily distinguishes it from the over- lying ferruginous sands. Their mineral characters and abraded angles also denote their transportation by water froin some far distant region. It is rarely indeed that any other mineral ingredients can be discovered among their particles, if we except some occasional fragments of flesh- colored feldspar and oxides of iron. Whenever any of these imbedded materials are freely exposed to view by the numerous diggings, and in the ra- vines along the shores of the various streams that dis- charge their waters into those of the Hudson and Mohawk rivers, they invariably present an arrangement of large and small particles in a series of waved lines or angular markings, as if disturbed or deposited from gently moving or by violently agitated waters. This in all probability was the ease when the drainage took place, and the plain became permanently dry. These peculiar characters most strikingly resemble in appearance those of a no doubt si- milar nature, which are most generally to be met with on the exposed edges of many of the more ancient sandstones : a fact strongly impressing on our minds the conviction _ that nature is governed at the present day by the same laws by which she operated in times far remote. = ~ Th many places it would appear; that after this brown arenaceous matter had beer 1 through the clay in the manner we now: behold it, slight and Tim ited depositions of an exceedingly fine-grained, light yel o 341 ' Jowish colored sand took place, which are at present to be seen in yarious situations, protruding as it were from the roofs of these excavations, and forming a singularly dis- tinct contrast to the dark stained material into which they are enclosed. From the circumstance that these appa- rently isolated masses of sand never exhibit those undu- lating lines and angles so characteristic of the other and associate deposits of the kind, I should form the conclu- sion that they had derived their origin from the surface waters, slowly and gradually percolated through the nu- merous thin seams or shrinkage fissures in the overlying and disruptured clays; for I can conceive of no other or more simple process to account for their present appear- | Sometimes the rounded pebbles which constitute the gravel, and. which are at all times to be found in connec- tion with these imbedded brown sands, are cemented firm- ly together by a copious deposit of carbonate of lime, to such a degree as to form extensive beds of calcareous con- glomerate, or pudding-stone, the lime being derived from the percolating waters containing it in solution ; but this only occurs when the broken up strata of drab-colored clay are either in their immediate vicinity, or directly above. In other instances, the cementing ingredient is the sulphuret of iron, which then renders the united mass 0 exceedingly hard as to destroy the tools of the work- men employed in its excavation. . The marly clays of this formation, with their imbedded contents, are sometimes subject to frequent and extensive slides. They are of common occurrence all over the slop- ing sides of the numerous and deeply cleft ravines which open from the surface of the plain, down to the shores of the different streams. To an individual looking from an eminence across one of these ravines to the hill-side be- Yond, it will most generally appear to be composed almost fntirely of a succession of irregularly formed terraces, 342 rising one above the other, until their termination at the surface of the plain. These slides are of various dimen- sions, some of them extending to a considerable magni- tude ; and when their edges become exposed, from exca- vations for the purpose of obtaining the brown sand, or the clays in which it is embraced, the facts there deve- loped might easily deceive the eye of a spectator, by dis- closing to his view the appearances of a repetition of simi- lar deposits widely separated from each other in position, whereas they are in reality a part and parcel of the — stratification. Most of these slides exhibit evidences of a very slow and gradual movement of the mass in their progress on- ward. In many situations, the beds of sand and gravel which they contain, and the various strata of clay pene compose their structure, however distorted and di they may appear, disclose no further indications of any disturbance, either by fracture or otherwise, than those produced at the time of their original deposition: they perfectly correspond in every respect with the same*for- mation in its natural position many feet above. In other instances, where the movements have evidently been more rapid and irregular in their action, the different materials of which they were constructed appear to have been frac- tured and tumbled about into the utmost degree of confu- sion. In several other situations, where excavations for economical applications have been made along the sloping sides of these ravines, the peculiar action of the slides is well exhibited. In frequent instances, most generally after heavy torrents of rain, the progress of railroad cars has been seriously impeded by prodigious quantities of these materials having been suddenly thrown over the track, so as to require the constant employment of a large number of workmen in their removal. The only methoc to remedy such an inconvenience is, if practicable, to con- struct the embankment from the edge of the road at the ed io a: ae 343 same slope that nature always adopts in her arrangement of particles of earth on the hill-sides, which is at an angle something less than forty-five degrees with the horizon: it then remains in a quiet state until the surface is completely covered over by shrubs and herbaceous plants, which are perfectly competent, by the ramifying entanglement of their rootlets, to secure permanently the banks from all further encroachments. Whenever [the angle is of any greater degree, these slides must invariably take place. The calcareous concretions embraced in the clays of this formation present a very singular feature in their construc- tion. They are exceedingly common among some of its strata ; and from the peculiar variability of their forms, it becomes very difficult to conceive any method by which to communicate a definite idea of their remarkable ap- pearances, other than by a reference to the specimens ‘themselves. They are always limited to the upper por- tion of the deposit, or that part most commonly selected for the manufacturing of brick. From the size, color, and the.r geological position amid the clays, they will easily admit of a separation into two distinct varieties : the first, or smaller of these, are most generally of a light yellow- ish color, about an inch or an inch and a half in their diameters, and are exclusively confined to the divisional seams of sand in the upper or disruptured portion of the series. The second and larger variety, as far as observa- tion has hitherto extended, appears to be restricted to a single stratum of the middle, or variegated portion of the clays near to its upper termination, and situated about four feet from its junction with the overlying or disturb- ed member of the deposit: they are for the most part about three or four inches in diameter, with a length fre- quently of more than a yard, and of a deep stone-blue color. Both of these varieties sometimes present the same peculiarities of form, but they differ considerably in their Rad 344 By an individual unacquainted with the manner in which these concretions have been produced, particularly those that assume the rounded form, so great is their re- semblance, they might very easily be mistaken for water- worn fragments of some firmly indurated rock ; and had the material of which they have been constructed been somewhat more copious, there can be but little doubt but that a solid stratum of silicious limestone would have been the result, occupying a position in conformity with the strata of this heavy mass of ductile clay. These clay-stones, as they are most commonly ested calcareous concretions, have frequently been the cause of some considerable speculation among geologists, in en- ceavoring to account for their production. The manner in which they have been formed is distinctly perceptible everywhere, among the various and extensive diggings which have thrown them open to the light of day... The. delicate fibres of the roots of the different trees of the forest that at one time completely covered the surface. of the soil, have, in innumerable instances, penetrated to a very considerable distance beneath. It was along these roots that the moisture from the surface, highly charged with carbonic acid gas, readily found its way, collecting the lime and other necessary ingredients in its descent, until its arrival at one of these seams of sand; here a de- position commenced, and the particles gradually arranged shandeinanonestiniesonens form around a nna at ligneous fibre. Whenever saumaintenantions have been examined ja a perfect state, this nucl it iably been found, exhibiting no.other change in its. appearance than that of a brownish stain given to it by the oxide. of iron. Sometimes two or more of them may be seen unit together ; at others, where the deposition sunset been far more copious, the liquid mass appears to have spread out to some considerable extent, giving origin 10 345 those stony plates of the same nature which are always to be found associated with them. It is also not an unusual circumstance for many of them to be marked with circu- lar depressions, when, after a short exposure to the at- mospheric influences, they readily disunite, the central portion falling out, carrying with it the woody nucleus that they contained, and leaving the concretions in that regular ring-like form that they so commonly assume. In some instances, while undergoing the necessary process of induration, the particles appear to have shrunk from the centre to the circumference, causing those radiating fis- ‘sures which afterwards became filled by segregation with alcareous spar; in this case, these concretions become wiry septaria. ' When these carbonized waters flow through the pul- onan ‘sands which separate the layers of clay, and free from the influence of the roots of neighboring plants, they continue for several feet in length to form those indura- ted plates of concretion that are so frequently to be met -with, strewed all over the surface of the ground, far be- neath the level of their original deposition. The lower, or amorphous portion of this formation, not being divided into distinct stratification, nor ever having been penetrated by the roots of plants, it consequently would rarely if ever contain these concretionary forms, which seems to be the case ; and from the preceding de- -seription it will be seen that although perfectly embraced ‘in the layers of the clay to some considerable depth, they ‘Iay with strict propriety be considered as belonging to a more recent period, having been constructed long after ~the deposition had become complete, and vegetation had for some time flourished in the soil upon its surface. Minerals, in a distinct form, are of rare occurrence in ~ nenatie: sinseagsoas jsealph wnat of iron in nodular »—which are not mnfangnest, - —m_inarre larra d haantitnl crystals nf colanita 3 7 lee? a al 346 of lime arranged in a stellular manner, are sometimes found. This latter mineral no doubt derives its origin from the decomposition of the iron; the sulphuric acid produced, readily uniting with the lime contained in the clay, would speedily accomplish this effect. In some situ- ations where magnesia prevails as an ingredient, epsom salts in acicular crystals has been the result, and was pro- duced in all probability by the same chemical agency. In one of those thin seams of fine sand that separate the strata of clay, about fifteen feet beneath the surface of the soil, is to be found the remains of a vegetable much resembling in appearance the leaves and stems of the Mitchella repens, which now thrives most luxuriantly all over the surface of the pine plains in this vicinity. These leaves have undergone but a slight degree of change in their nature, still retaining all the flexibility of the more recént plant. This is the only instance of an apparent fossil remain having been found connected with this for- . mation in the neighborhood of our city; but Professor Emmons has procured, from what he considers as equiva- lent to its upper layers, along the shores of Lake Cham- plain and the St. Lawrence river, many feet above the reach of the tidal wave, the fossil remains of marine shells that still have an existence along the shores in the neigh- boring seas, together with some few that belong to the waters of a more boreal or arctic region. The only ready method to account for the paucity of fossils in this depo- sit, extensive as it appears in this section of country, is, to consider it as having derived its origin from the waves of a deep inland estuary or arm of the sea, with numer- ous streams of fresh water continually discharging them selves into its basin; by which means the water ant soon become too brackish for animals from the land, and much too fresh for those belonging to the sean Fibrous rootlets of plants, still retaining all the eharac- ters of a more recent vegetation, are to be observed in al- * ee eee 347 most every stratum of the clay, to the depth of some fif- ‘teen or more feet from the surface, ramifying in every di- rection over the vertical faces of the cliffs. In many sit- uations they have often been mistaken for ancient fossil remains, but a slight inspection will most readily disclose - their recent origin. They have, in many instances, been traced to the stems of still surviving trees. The clays of this formation have, for a great length of time, been extensively made use of for the manufacturing of brick. With now and then a rare exception, the entire city of Albany has been erected from the material upon which it stands. In many places, this clay contains sand sufficient to constitute an excellent mortar for the purpose ; but most generally it is necessary, particularly in its low- est division, to give additional sand to its composition. It is likewise capable of affording a fine material for tile ma- king ; but the demand for such an article has been so limited, that no individual, until very recently, has con- sidered it of sufficient consequence to embark in the enter- prise. With a little more care in the tempering, I should think that this material might easily be moulded into ele- gant ornaments for decorating the door ways, windows, and eyen the entire fronts of dwellings, so as to give to the structure composed of it a very chaste and highly beautiful and that too at a far more reasona- ble rate than isnow employed for the sandstones and mar- bles at present in such general use. Quite recently, an attempt has been made to manufac- ture fine glass from these clays; but by a reference to the table of analysis, it will be seen that some of the most im- portant ingredients, if there at all, are not in sufficient quantity to produee any thing more than a common ya- riety of coarse bottle glass, of littlest or va consideration whateyer. Inconjun pe: however, it has produced some very beautiful ae door mobs; but the expense attending their manufacture K eau Ve 348 has far exceeded the idea of any thing profitable. It is occasionally made use of for coarse pottery, and many of the poorer class of our citizens make use of it, with.a so- lution of glue, for washing the walls of their dwellings. From the central portion of this formation, and from amid the various colored strata, is obtained the material so much in value at the earthen-ware factories in our neighboring States, for the purpose of glazing their nume- rous productions ; they pay for it at the rate of one dollar the barrel, and it is most admirably adapted to the use. All that is necessary, is to dip the article to be glazed into a solution of this clay, formed with water to the consist- ency of cream; the lime constituting one of the ingredi- ents, readily performing the action of a flux to the alumin- ous portion; and when the article is subjected to the heat required, it produces all the effects that become ne- cessary to accomplish the object. - This blue elay, in a moist state, is a most admirable ar- ticle for the preservation of the seeds and roots of plants, particularly during long journeys by land and distant sea voyages. Ali that is necessary, is to cut it into thin sli- ces, and deposit the seeds and roots between them, at the Same time packing the whole mass firmly together. In this way, these vegetable productions will retain their vi- tality for a number of years, in consequence of the exelu- sion of air, and the retention ” a sufficiency of moisture for their preservation. _ The finest portions of the imbedded brown sands’ ind gravel are much employed, when united with lime, in the composition of mortars and other plasterings, and they are also used for moulding purposes in furnaces; while the boulders and Pct eter broken os construction of roads. The caleareous concretions have not, to my knowledge, been appropriated to any practicable purpose ; but it has been suggested, from their chemical composition, that 349 they might be usefully employed as a delicate water ce- ment, when properly prepared. Over this heavy formation of marly clay, and likewise constituting the surface of the extensive and elevated plain which forms so conspicuous a feature in the scenery be- tween the city of Albany and the Mohawk valley, is spread out a thick deposit of yellow ferruginous sand. It leaves, however, in many places, denuded portions of the clay protruding far above the soil; and also, fills up those deep grooved trenches, which have been torn out by the rush- ing waters loaded with detrital matter from the north, in such a manner that it can only be seen to advantage along the deep cuttings, and in the banks of the numerous streams that discharge their waters into those of the prin- cipal rivers. _ This sand is very unevenly spread over the surface of the clay, so that it becomes ex¢ dingly difficult to form a just conception of its thickness, it having been drifted and blown about into variously shaped knobs or hills, some of which attain an elevation some distance above the general level of the plain; about thirty feet, however, I should consider in all probability a fair estimation of its greatest _ This yellow sand is chiefly composed of silicious parti- cles having an external coating of oxide of iron, which gives to it that deep ochreous appearance which it every- where presents, when not exposed to the direct influences of atmospheric action ; small fragments of magnetic iron in the form of sand, with feldspar and Inica, are commonly found disseminated through it, and more rarely garnets and pyroxene. After heavy showers of rain, the surfaces of roads run- ning through this plain are literally strewed with small concretions of this brown oxide of iron, these, upon be- ing washed into the low marshy depressions. which are every where abundant, unite themselves together by the. 350 tendency they have to concrete, and give origin to those large quantities of bog ore which have hitherto proved so great a source of profit to the possessors of the land. In this way, the formation of this ore may be considered as of daily continuance, and consequently on the increase. A few years since, this iron was shipped in large quanti- ties to the city of Philadelphia for stove castings, and for the purpose its quality most admirably adapts it. Beds of sheli marl, either covered or surrounded by margins of peat, are not unfrequently to be met with in the marshy depressions of this plain; both of which sub- stances, when judiciously used as manures, have proved of essential service to some of the lands in the vicinity; but at other"times they have been the source of some con-: siderable evil, merely in consequence of the absence of a little chemical knowledge of the nature of the soils upon which they were improperly introduced. The rains that descend and percolate these yellow sands, are, in many instances, immediately thrown off by the sloping surfaces of the impervious clays beneath, and again make their appearance in the form of copious springs among the various depressions scattered over the surface of the plain. From these springs, the numerous minor streams that ramify the country derive their origin. But many of these waters find their way into basins or reser- voirs at the bottom of the torn out trenches and disrup- tured portions of the clay, from whence our farmers most generally obtain their supplies; and they consider them- selves extremely fortunate when, in digging their wells, they at the first attempt succeed in reaching one of these repositories. In these researches for water, they are al-' most altogether guided by chance, and oft times wonder that their labors are attended with such ill suecess. The accompanying diagram is taken from an actual section at one of the many excavations made in the neighborhood of our city, and will in a great measure aid in illustrating Sie oo.. m ieee ee 351 the theory of springs, and readily explain the cause of failure and success in these undertakings for water. An individual boring for water at A, would be sure of obtaining it on passing through the yellow sand, and ap- proaching the impervious floor of clay; whereas at B, a few yards distant, he would find none whatever, because. the rains which percolate the sand at this place, flow off immediately on reaching the sloping surface of the clay. Now should he not be satisfied with the quantity or qua- lity of the water procured at A, and resume his labors through the impervious floor, he would, in all probability, on penetrating the imbedded sands, lose that which he possessed ; but on proceeding still further into this mass, he will in a short time be enabled to find it in the greatest profusion ; whilst at B, he might proceed through the en- tire formation, without discovering the smallest measure of it. It is from this peculiarity of the structure, that the borings for water on the “Pine plains” are so uncertain, and of such a mysterious nature to our farmers, and which ‘renders them so liable to the imposition of swindlers. _ The waters contained in these imbedded sands are most generally of a finer quality than those which have perco- lated through the yellow ferruginous mass above, in con- sequence of the latter abstracting large quantities of iron in their passage through, which always renders them hard and unpleasant to the taste. It would seem natural to suppose that the larger the _ size of the disrupting boulders drifting over the surface of this plain, the nearer they would be found deposited to the parent rock from whence they derived an origin ; and the smaller the particles, the further they would be trans- ported by the action of the moving waters. This law is unquestionably correct over an extended surface of level country, where the water had a comparatively quiet flow; but in this particular instance, it would appear to require some degree of modification, for the more numerous and 352 larger boulders, after having torn up and dislocated the upper portion of the clays, in their passage along the sur- face, may now be seen in prodigious numbers, and of the greatest magnitude, lying up against the elevated range of mountains to the south, whilst rare indeed is the circum- stance to find a solitary fragment of any considerable size any where along the intervening space. The various facts detailed in this communication, when attentively considered, would appear to favor the hypo- thesis advanced some years since, that by some powerful convulsion of nature, the barrier was burst asunder which pent up and confined the waters of this inland estuary or arm of the sea, and caused an almost instantaneous drain- age of the land. Such being the case, a violent rush or current would be the result, sufficiently powerful to sweep along at a rapid rate, even the largest of the boulders in question, and by that means easily to disrupture the sur- face of the clay, and produce all the effects that we at present behold. But still, an adequate supply of water seems to have remained, in order to evenly disseminate the yellow sands over the irregular and broken up surface long ere the land had become permanently dry. The following results of analysis have been carefully obtained, expressly for this communication, by Dr. James H. Sarissury, of this city. Rare) “Ta Ca ry pegs - rae .8 me me a) e 22sja 5.9 9 o+= ELEMENTARY supstaNces. [°™,|2=.|°™.| © .|2= $ie2 2 °* © . . . ESesS PEE 3 2)2 bad Ps PLS. we) ec -=—-_ — Ss Ss Ss és SAs6aa Organic matter, ie 6.401 1.32) 3.64 7.60 Carbonic acid, 0.64| 2.441 9.44 et Rh steeeeeeees 67.20| 78.10] 44.40] 42. Peroxide of iron and alumina, riidaes 18.44} 9.98| 7.72| 9.88 — . 0.04! trace.) 0.08} 0.08 F-sancy at . 3.40 4.16 26.88 21h tee . 0.20] 0.10! 0. . Enmiaricndhd, . trace.| 0.14) trace.| traces Potash 0.12} 0.06] 0.24] trace. Pe as 2.20) 2.72) 5.92] 6.92 * 0.68] 0.42) 1.80} 1.72 pa REE 99.321 99.44) 99,40] 99.16 393 This analysis of the small yellow concretions, from the upper portion of the clays, was made in the State Labora- tory, under the direction of Prorzssor Emmons. Watery vic idee ices Vie ebet raves dues oees 6.28 ONgANES TATE, 60 5 ae Bee Sie ene etes i Po i5 cbs un vine da at env is pane sneduses, 7 PDO Free alumina and per oxide of iron, ........ 9.42 RAOUNS OE IMG ets cess cess besectes " UOL08 MN is oa ee inc vececiccetslese 0.22 Total, es 5 aciiamienhis ads cxsaannees 4s 99.42 EXPLANATION TO ARTICLE IV. THIS VOLUME. In the second number of this volume, I have described a Crustacean, under the new genus Brongnartia. A few years later the figure of a Serolis (Leach,) was given in Dr. Buckland’s volume of the Bridgewater Treatise ; though much smaller in size, every one must be struck with the close resemblance of the two. At the time my article on this animal was published, there was nothing but a de- scription of the genus Serolis that I could have access to, and in all the works containing it, it was described as be- ing destitute of Palpi to the mandibles. In the Brongnar- tia, these organs are strikingly palpigerous, a distinguish- ing character, which must remove it, not only from the genus Serolis, but also from the order to which that animal belongs. JAMES EIGHTS.