short, why should not the multitude of stars constitute one or more living wholes? Would they not thus present to us a strict parallel to the "living wholes" which we have long recognized to be such-unliving particles in living relations to each other? True, the earth we live on is inorganic: true, we have good reason to conclude all the orbs contained in space to be inorganic too. This is no reason that they are not “particles "atoms-though inorganic by themselves, in an organization of a corresponding magnitude. The atoms of which our own bodies consist, also, are "inorganic by themselves."

“An organization," I said, "of corresponding magnitude." I am not the first to use the term. The "organization" of the heavens-of our own solar system, and of the various galaxies of stars-has been often spoken of. The likeness of the stellar groups, and of their ordered and recurrent movements, to the forms and processes of the organic world, has found for itself a voice, at least in metaphor. There is a striking passage in the first volume of Cosmos bearing so directly on this view, that though it will probably have presented itself to the reader's mind, he may thank us for reproducing it. "If we imagine, as in a vision of fancy, the acuteness of our senses preternaturally sharpened even to the extreme limit of telescopic vision, and incidents which are separated by vast intervals of time compressed into a day or an hour, everything like rest in spacial existence will forthwith disappear. We shall find the innumerable host of the fixed stars commoved in groups in different directions; nebulæ drawing hither and thither like cosmic clouds; our milky way breaking up in particular parts, and its veil rent. Motion in every point of the vault of heaven, as on the surface of the earth, in the germinating, leaf-pushing, flower-unfolding organisms of its vegetable covering. The celebrated Spanish botanist, Cavanilles, first conceived the thought of 'seeing grass grow by setting the horizontal thread of a micrometer, attached to a powerful telescope, at one time upon the tip of the shoot of a bamboo, at another upon that of a fast-growing American aloe (Agave Americana), precisely as the astronomer brings a culminating star upon the cross-wires of his instrument. In the aggregate life of nature, organic as well as sidereal, Being, Maintaining, and Becoming are alike associated with motion."

The

Here we will pause, and abstain from argument. Let the thought stand as a suggestion merely, a whim of fantasy. It is at least a noble and elevating one. The dissevered unity of nature is restored. lower rises to the higher rank; the higher wins a new glory in descending to the lower place. Unbroken stands the scheme before us. Life infinite and boundless; throbbing in our veins with a tiny thrill of the vast pulse that courses through the infinitude of space; the joy and sorrow in our hearts calling us to an universal sympathy, guaranteeing to us a sympathy that is universal, in return.

One word, in conclusion, with respect to the title of these papers. The name of "Riddles" has not been given to them without meaning, or

merely to stimulate a jaded curiosity. The thought which it was designed to convey, has probably become evident to those whom a genuine interest in the subject has made tolerant of the abstruse discussions which some of the papers contain, and of the many imperfections which mar them all. Man is but a child. I am (( an infant crying in the night," says the sweet poet of the modern time, and the words find an echo in all hearts, because they are true of all humanity. Man is a little child, and as a little child he is taught. His feeble powers are drawn gently out, in tender sportive ways. Lord Bacon says, in words which prove in him a sensibility of heart as exquisite as the reach of his intellect was sublime: "Of the sciences which contemplate nature, the sacred philosopher pronounces, 'It is the glory of God to conceal a thing; but the glory of the king to search it out: not otherwise than as if the Divine Nature delighted in the innocent and kindly play of children, who hide themselves in order that they may be found, and in his indulgent goodness towards mankind, had chosen for His playfellow the human soul." Nature sports with us, presenting to us easy questions in hard ways. She gives us riddles-the fact simple, the mode in which it is put before us complicated and involved. We think in every possible wrong way, before we find the right; but in the meantime our faculties are strengthened and enlarged. Our chief difficulty in comprehending Nature is her simplicity, the multitude and boundless variety of results which she educes from one law, and this law, it may be, self-evident and impossible not to be. We cannot, till we have learnt by long experience, understand what great events from simple causes spring, nor how truly "the workmanship of God is such that He doth hang the greatest weight upon the smallest wires."

How amazing it is to trace the wonderful processes of life, even so partially and feebly as we have done, to the simplest laws of force. And yet more amazing is it, to reflect that these same laws extend illimitably over the field of nature. If they bear such fruit in one least corner of the universe-for "if a man meditate upon the universal frame of nature, what is the earth but a little heap of dust?"-in what rich harvests of order, beauty, life, may they not issue, through all the immeasurable sphere of their dominion! Before the resources of creative power, imagination stands silent and appalled.

The study of Nature, revealing to us, though faintly, yet truly, traces of the laws and methods of the Highest and Universal Worker-revealing to us, in His work, an absolute singleness of aim and unity of means, perfectness of calm repose one with unfailing energy of action-this study has its worthy end, only when it raises us to act like Him: with stedfast and single aim which no passion can pervert, nor interest corrupt; with means which, ever changing, are yet ever one in changeless rectitude; with an activity untiring, and a calmness that cannot be disturbed, rooted in love and trust.

Chinese Pirates.

If there is one institution of the Central Empire which has not degenerated so as to deserve a place in Mr. Carlyle's black list of Shams, that institution must be piracy. Poor China is a thing of decay and disorganization; her roses are withered into potpourri, her poets are plagiarists, her philosophers are dreary old disregarded twaddlers, and the Brother of the Sun and Moon is on cold terms with his magnificent relations. But piracy survives, flourishing with a luxuriance which Captain Kidd scarcely dreamed of, and which contrasts nobly with the pitiful retail business which went on a century ago upon the Spanish main. The pirates of China have their fleets, their squadrons, their self-appointed admirals and commodores, in exact imitation of the imperial navy. In fact, if it were not for the uncomfortable presence of our English cruisers, the piratical craft would soon clear the seas of their opponents the mandarin vessels.

When the writer of this paper first formed acquaintance with Chinese waters and customs, there existed a desperado of the true Paul Jones type, although this reddest of all Red Rovers did wear a pigtail-a long, silken, beautifully-braided pigtail-which might have represented the "back-hair" of some young lady at a boarding-school. This man's name was Chin Apo, and if the trumpet of fame did not publish it over Europe, the Pekin Gazette diffused it pretty liberally over China. Ten, nay fifteen thousand dollars, from the imperial treasury, have been offered for that neatly-plaited pigtail, and the head that it adorned. Yet Chin Apo walked in peace through the streets of Canton, Nankin, Shanghai, or any other town, as if he had been lord of the receipt for fernseed, and was invisible, for neither governor nor policeman ever happened to see him, though less noted offenders were daily crucified or sawn into halves by the purblind Chinese justice that spared Chin Apo. The exact reasons for this immunity I never could learn, but am disposed to regard it as the fruit of a judicious mixture of bribery and bullying. In fact, a master thief creates a sort of respectful sympathy in the bosom of the stoniesthearted mandarin; and if Tarquin had been enthroned at Pekin he would have contented himself with thinning the rank and file of the poppies, leaving the tall ones untouched. So Chin Apo prospered, and robbed, and levied black-mail, and commanded a flotilla of fifty or sixty lorchas and war-junks, until in an evil hour he became concerned in the murder of two of our officers at Hong Kong, and the British Lion put his paw upon him. Being caught, the pirate displayed that curious indifference to life which is one of the most puzzling features in the national character. It is not that a Chinaman is not capable of running away to an almost

unlimited extent to avoid danger, although I sincerely believe that the proverb which says a Chinese fears noise more than pain, is a profound bit of wisdom, but when captured he dies cheerfully, as if life were valueless. So in Chin Apo's case. His sentence was transportation for life, and he was sent to Calcutta in irons; his only petition had been all along to be put to death in some decent fashion which would not compromise his tail, and the disgrace of fetters and hemp-picking made him essay to starve himself to death on board the frigate. The master-at-arms, with unwelcome philanthropy, fed him with soup through a bamboo tube, but Chin Apo succeeded in obtaining a rusty nail, opening a vein, and dying like a philosopher.

The most usual size for a piratical vessel is of about three hundred and fifty tons, but they seldom or never cruise alone; and when you see a corsair bear down upon you with sails and oars, you may be pretty sure her consort is not far off, like a hawk hovering within a bird's-eye view of its mate. A junk of this burden, mounted with a few very heavy cannon, and full of men, is no trifling opponent for an armed European merchantman, especially as Dromio of Canton is pretty sure soon to come to the aid of Dromio of Macao, while as for Chinese traders, they never show fight at all. If a Chinese merchant is prudent, he pays black-mail to some piratical dignitary, who will underwrite his ship and cargo. If he is testy or proud, he hires a Yankee or English skipper, with a half European crew, and makes an investment in gunpowder; or, if he is a very enlightened individual indeed, perhaps he even buys a British steamer, which at the worst can trust, like Atalanta, to her heels, and outrun a whole armada of pirates. Not always, though, for among the islets and promontories of the coast, especially to the northward, are some, ugly straits, through which vessels have to run the gauntlet, and where the pigtailed Vikings swarm like wasps, and sting as smartly.

It makes an important difference to one's personal comfort and wellbeing, whether one's ship is taken by pirates on the north or the south of a certain geographical line which may be said to bisect the Chinese seaboard. If we become captives on the south of the above line, we are pretty sure to owe our lives, and perhaps a garment or two, especially if old and shabby, to the clemency of our conquerors. No doubt there will be some trifling hardships to be endured; we shall be stripped, we shall be beaten with less or greater severity, and starved till our ransom is paid by the nearest consul, or commander of one of H. M.'s men-of-war. Very probably we shall be carried about the country in bamboo cages, like so many Bajazets in reduced circumstances, and pelted with mud and stones by the rustic children, who never saw a Fanqui before, and do not admire the breed. If the ransom is long delayed, it is possible that our proprietors may grow impatient, and mark the days of anticipation by notching off a joint of one of our fingers every morning-a thing not wholly unheard of -but, at any rate, we are likely to get home to our disconsolate friends in the long run, and may figure as lions for the remainder of our natural VOL. II. NO. 10.

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lives on the strength of what we have gone through, to say nothing of bringing out a neat octavo volume, with illustrations. In the northern part of the China coast, they manage these things differently. They have learned to believe in the bloodthirsty old buccaneer proverb, "Dead men tell no tales," and they make terribly short work of the captivity of their prisoners. There is but one plan-to resist to the last gasp, for the voyager may rest assured that no weak submission will plead in mitigation of judgment.

The plan of attack in the channels among the islets, or between the latter and the mainland, is a very simple and old-fashioned one; nets are simply stretched across the waterway, and the spiders lie in wait for the flies in some convenient lurking-place near their web, say in a creek where the palms are on a level with their low masts, or under a black rock that keeps their dingy hulls and straw or cotton sails within its shadow. A merchantman comes crawling along, with top-gallants and studding-sails towering aloft to woo the coy breeze. The captain was a little too impatient to find himself snugly anchored in the port he is bound for, where there would be no more logarithms to plague him, no more solar observations to take, where the fresh provisions would come on board, where the consignce would ask him to dinner, and compliment him on his quick run, and he would be quite a hero for the nonce in that circle of pale ladies and bilious merchant-princes. So he went inside the islands, to save a day, and see the result. He is asleep, we will say, in that cockroach-haunted cabin of his, with the windsail fitted to the companionhatch, and there is nobody on deck except the red-jerseyed helmsman, and that lean old mate in check shirt-sleeves and Panama hat, who is biting his nails in the bows, and whistling for a wind. The mate doesn't like it; he was all along in opposition to that seductive plan of slipping along the glassy channel inside the islands, and the mate's opinion, before a Committee of the House of Commons, would outweigh the skipper's, who would not command the ship if he were not the owner's nephew, or son-in-law, or something of the sort. I hope the good ship is duly insured, cargo and all-as for the lives of those on board, they are gone beyond redemption: for see! already the pigtailed ruffians on board those skulking junks are casting loose their sails, and slipping those long sweeps over the gunwale into the blue water. Just then, the mate espies the ripple where the corks keep the upper line of the nets above water, fatally near and right ahead. His practised eye makes it out only too clearly, and he somehow thunders the sleepy crew upon deck in an instant. Up comes the captain too, all in a flurry. "Hard up with the helm! back mainsail! topsails aback!" No use; it only distracts the crew, for there is no room to put the ship about, and the projecting cliffs take the wind out of her sails as she shivers, taken aback, and bang! gocs the first gun from the pirates. There is but one hope, to hold on, and crack through ropes and nets and stakes, for life or death. Fill away the lazy sails, clear away that carronade that has been lying neglected among boats and hencoops: hand up the muskets from below? On goes the doomed ship, crash! she goes in