eastern division, where the cold is thawed by the neighbourhood of the sea, and the inland regions are fertilized by the waters of the Amoor, and sheltered by its magnificent forests. But its shores are desert, and its woods solitary; the tomb of the fisher is more frequently seen on its coast than the boat of the living; the mausoleum which the emperors of China have erected to their ancestors is more splendid than their palace; and it seems as if the mass of the nation had expatriated themselves to take possession of their conquests in the south. The third division of Central Asia is a still milder and more fertile region, as the ground rapidly descends, and the sky brightens after passing the Belur Tag or the Mountains of Darkness, till the delicious valley of Samarcand and Bochara opens out, and displays the green meadows and blossoming gardens, the castles and towns of Mawar-alNahar, whose inhabitants, in the mildness of their climate, lose the Scythian cast of countenance, and are alike celebrated for their bravery and their beauty.

Northern Asia, or Siberia, loses, by its northern exposure and latitude, what it gains by the descent of the ground towards the Icy Sea; and winter lingers round the year in the recesses of its woods and in the depth of its morasses, where the ice never melts: only some favoured situations enjoy the benefit of a brief but rapid summer. But even in its uniform desolation there are shades of difference, and the country beyond the Yenisei is still more Siberian than that which is nearer to Russia. It is thus that Asia has no temperate climate; it is divided by its central range of mountains between winter and summer.

South-eastern Asia, which is its warm and tropical division, may be divided into China, India, and the Indo-Chinese countries. In China the hills retain the coldness of Tartary, and the valleys unite the warmth of India to the mildness and moisture of the neighbourhood of the Southern Sea; and China thus furnishes, with every variety of climate, every variety of production. Japan may be considered as a smaller and insulated China, surrounded by the atmosphere of the Pacific, and therefore presenting the same range of temperature, mo

In India beyond the

dified by its vicinity to the ocean. Ganges, both the animal and vegetable worlds assume their largest dimensions; this is the native region of the teak forest and of the elephant. Nature itself is on so large a scale, that every range of mountains forms the boundary of a kingdom, and every valley constitutes an empire. This region, by the jutting out of the peninsula of Malacca, forms a connexion with the Spice Islands, which owe their luxuriance to their being placed beneath the sun of the equator, in the midst of a boundless ocean; and while, in one of their group, New Holland, they attain almost to the size of a continent, their size is lessened in the Isles of Polynesia, till they form but a single rock, or a bed of coral emerging from the waves.

South-western Asia, which consists of Persia, the countries watered by the Tigris and the Euphrates, Caucasus, Asia Minor, Syria, and Arabia, may be considered the most temperate region of Asia. The Tigris and the Euphrates no longer water the gardens of the king of the world. The forests of Lebanon and Carmel, with the groves of Daphne, the orchards of Damascus, the vines of the hills of Judea, and the corn of its plains, once ranked among the most luxuriant and most cultivated spots of the earth. Arabia, farther to the south, forms a desolate contrast, stripped of all vegetation but the few palms which indicate the secret waters of the desert; and its sterile uniformity is only interrupted by mountains which break the clouds, retain their waters in the wells of the rock, and forms upon their terraced sides the gardens of the burning wastes around them. These mountains, becoming frequent and continuous towards the south, enclose the happy Arabia, where hills and valleys, showers and sunshine, produce a variety of verdure the reverse of the burnt-up expanse of the sands. DOUGLAS Advancement of Society.

MAP OF THE WORLD-AFRICA, EUROPE, AND AMERICA. THE north of Africa is, on a large scale and to an intense degree, a repetition of the heat and barrenness of Arabia, with two lines of vegetation interrupting its im

mense sterility. The course of the Nile on the east, and the Mediterranean, with the range of Atlas, to the north, secure each a strip of Northern Africa from the barrenness of the rest. The vale of the Nile widens towards its mouth; and the double valley of Atlas, on either side of the mountains, stretches wider as the shores of the Mediterranean approach to those of the Atlantic. The islands of verdure in Africa are still more remarkable than those of Arabia, from the vaster desolation around them. Beyond the Great Sahara, the most sterile region of the world, arises the most productive and fertile, Central Africa, where heat and moisture, the two great instruments of vegetation, are most abundant. Africa presents some variety of features on its eastern and western sides. The eastern appears to be the most elevated and open. To the west are the mouths of the largest and most frequent rivers. The whole of Africa may be considered as being under the heats of the torrid zone, except at its two extremities, where the productions of the temperate zone arrive at perfection.

Europe is the temperate region of the earth, where all the extremes of temperature are arrested and modified by its insular and intersected situation. The east of Europe partakes of the character of the steppes of Asia, but is fitter for cultivation; and while merchandise can only be transported along the high and parched plains of Asia by beasts of burden, the rivers of Russia are navigable, and afford an easy communication by water. As the mainland of Europe is prolonged to the south-west, the land increases in fertility, and in its aptitude for agriculture. The two seas by which Europe is intersected, the Mediterranean and the Baltic, have been the earliest scenes of the Grecian and the Gothic tribes, to whom ancient and modern Europe owe their civilization and renown; while Spain, Portugal, and Britain, the frontiers and outposts of the Old World towards the west, have spread themselves over a new continent, and begun a fresh career of glory upon the opposite side of the globe.

America, or the New World, is separated into two subdivisions by the ocean, which has broken the continuity of the United States and the Caraccas by inter

The

vening seas and a number of islands. Each nation has obtained that portion of the continent of the New World which was most adapted to its previous habits. United States, while they possess the finest inland communication in the world, are admirably placed for intercourse with the West India Islands and with Europe. The Brazils are well situated, on the other hand, for extending the influence acquired by the Portuguese, for becoming the emporium between Europe and the East, and for receiving into their own soil, and rearing to perfection, the rich productions of those islands which the Portuguese have lost for ever. The United States possess every variety of temperature and of soil, from the snows and barrenness of the Rocky Mountains to the perpetual bloom of the Floridas; while the Brazils, to the north and towards the line, approach the climate and the luxuriance of Africa, and, towards the south, are able to rear the tea-plant and the productions of ChiThe Spaniards in the New as in the Old World, and in modern as in ancient times, are the great possessors of mines. They spread themselves along the back of the Andes as other nations spread themselves along the valleys of rivers, and live, an aerial people, above the clouds, having built their cities in the purer and higher regions of the air; and while the Americans are placed over against Europe, and the Brazilians are advantageously situated in the neighbourhood of Africa, the Spaniards, from the ridge of the Andes, overlook that vast ocean which will soon open to them a direct communication with China and the islands of the South Sea, and connect, by a new channel, the gold and silver of the West with the rich productions of the East.

na.

DOUGLAS Advancement of Society.

ACCORDANCE BETWEEN THE SONGS OF BIRDS AND THE DIFFERENT ASPECTS OF THE DAY.

THERE is a beautiful propriety in the order in which nature seems to have directed the singing-birds to fill up the day with their pleasing harmony. The accordance between their songs and the external aspect of nature,

at the successive periods of the day at which they sing, is quite remarkable. And it is impossible to visit the forest or the sequestered dell, where the notes of the feathered tribes are heard to the greatest advantage, without being impressed with the conviction that there is design in the arrangement of this sylvan minstrelsy.

First the robin (and not the lark, as has been generally imagined), as soon as twilight has drawn its imperceptible line between night and day, begins his lovely song. How sweetly does this harmonize with the soft dawning of the day! He goes on till the twinkling sunbeams begin to tell him that his notes no longer accord with the rising scene. Up starts the lark, and with him a variety of sprightly songsters, whose lively notes are in perfect correspondence with the gaiety of the morning. The general warbling continues, with now and then an interruption by the transient croak of the raven, the screams of the jay, or the pert chattering of the daw. The nightingale, unwearied by the vocal exertions of the night, joins his inferiors in sound in the general harmony. The thrush is wisely placed on the summit of some lofty tree, that its loud and piercing notes may be softened by distance before they reach the ear, while the mellow blackbird seeks the inferior branches.

Should the sun, having been eclipsed with a cloud, shine forth with fresh effulgence, how frequently we see the goldfinch perch on some blossomed bough, and hear its song poured forth in a strain peculiarly energetic; while the sun, full shining on his beautiful plumes, displays his golden wings and crimson crest to charming advantage. The notes of the cuckoo blend with this cheering concert in a pleasing manner, and for a short time are highly grateful to the ear. But sweet as this singular song is, it would tire by its uniformity, were it not given in so transient a manner.

At length evening advances, the performers gradually retire, and the concert softly dies away. The sun is seen no more. The robin again sends up his twilight song, till the still more serene hour of night sets him to the bower to rest. And now to close the scene in full and perfect harmony; no sooner is the voice of the robin