Part 4

"Let us figure to ourselves this prodigious crowd of insects covering the ground lying between these two ant-hills, and occupying a space of two feet in breadth. Both armies met at half-way from their respective habitations, and there the battle commenced. Thousands of ants took their station upon the highest ground, and fought in pairs, keeping firm hold of their antagonists by their mandibles; a considerable number were engaged in the attack and leading away prisoners. The latter made several ineffectual efforts to escape, as if aware that, upon their arrival at the camp, they would experience a cruel death. The scene of warfare occupied a space of about three feet square; a penetrating odour exhaled from all sides; numbers of dead ants were seen covered with venom. Those ants composing groups and chains, took hold of each other's legs and pincers, and dragged their antagonists on the ground. These groups formed successively. The fight usually commenced between two ants, who seized each other by the mandibles, and raised themselves upon their hind legs, to allow of their bringing their abdomen forward, and spirting the venom upon their adversary. They were frequently so closely wedged together that they fell upon their sides, and fought a long time in that situation, in the dust; they shortly after raised themselves, when each began dragging its adversary; but when their force was equal, the wrestlers remained immoveable, and fixed each other to the ground, until a third came to decide the contest. It more commonly happened that both ants received assistance at the same time, when the whole four, keeping firm hold of a foot or antenna, made ineffectual attempts to gain the battle. Some ants joined the latter, and these were, in their turn seized by new arrivals. It was in this way they formed chains of six, eight, or ten ants, all firmly locked together; the equilibrium was only broken when several warriors, from the same republic, advanced at the same time, who compelled those that were enchained to let go their hold, when the single combats again took place. On the approach of night each party returned gradually to the city, which served it for an asylum. The ants, which were either killed or led away into captivity, not being replaced by others, the number of combatants diminished, until their force was exhausted.

"The ants returned to the field of battle before dawn. The groups again formed; the carnage recommenced with greater fury than on the preceding evening, and the scene of combat occupied a space of six feet in length, by two, in breadth. Success was for a long time doubtful; about mid-day the contending armies had removed to the distance of a dozen feet from one of their cities, whence I conclude some ground had been gained. The ants fought so desperately, that nothing could withdraw them from their enterprize; they did not even perceive my presence, and although I remained close to the army, none of them climbed upon my legs; they seemed absorbed in one object, that of finding an enemy to contend with."

THE DIAMOND.

Of all transparent substances, none can be compared to the brilliancy of the diamond; and its hardness is such, that no kind of steel instrument can make any impression upon it. Notwithstanding which, it has been proved that the diamond is but carbon or charcoal, in a pure or chrystallized state. When strongly heated, it consumes entirely away. Diamonds, when rubbed together, have a peculiarly, and scarcely to be described grating sound, which is remarkably characteristic of this gem; so that by this circumstance alone, rough diamonds may be accurately and expeditiously distinguished from every other gem. When the diamond is rubbed, it will attract bits of straw, feathers, hairs, and other small objects, and if exposed to the rays of the sun, and immediately taken into a dark place, will appear luminous.

The largest diamond ever known, is in the possession of the Queen of Portugal, and weighs about eleven ounces. It was found in Brazil, and sent from thence to London, in the year 1746. It is still uncut, and has been valued at twenty-five million six hundred thousand dollars.

Diamonds are much worn in England as ornaments. When converted into powder or dust, the diamond is used with steel instruments to divide pebbles and precious stones. Its use in cutting glass is generally known. Rock crystal, brought from Brazil, is divided into leaves, and ground and polished with diamond dust for spectacles, and other optical instruments.

EXTRACTS FROM WIRT.

"Excessive wealth is neither glory nor happiness. The cold and sordid wretch, who thinks only of himself; who draws his head within his shell and never puts it out, but for the purposes of lucre and ostentation--who looks upon his fellow creatures not only without sympathy, but with arrogance and insolence, as if they were made to be his vassals, and he was made to be their lord--as if they were formed for no other purpose than to pamper his avarice, or to contribute to his aggrandizement--such a man may be rich, but trust me, that he can never be happy, nor virtuous, nor great. There is in fortune a golden mean, which is the appropriate region of virtue and intelligence. Be content with that; and if the horn of plenty overflow, let its droppings fall upon your fellow men; let them fall, like the droppings of honey in the wilderness, to cheer the faint and wayworn pilgrim. I wish you indeed to be distinguished; but wealth is not essential to distinction. Look at the illustrious patriots, philosophers and philanthropists, who in various ages have blessed the world; was it their wealth that made them great? Where was the wealth of Aristides, Socrates, of Plato, of Epaminondas, of Fabricius, of Cincinnatus, and a countless host upon the rolls of fame. Their wealth was in the mind and the heart. Those are the treasures by which they have been immortalized, and such alone are the treasures that are worth a serious struggle."

ON THE ADVANTAGES OF NARROW RESOURCES.

In minds of a certain cast, the title of this essay may possibly excite surprise. It might be imagined that the writer was guided in the choice of a subject, as the Cynic was directed in his tub, by that misanthropy which affects to look on good and evil, with an equal frown; or by that pride which finding itself linked to poverty, strives to dignify the despised partner of its destiny. Yet, in spite of these suggestions, much may be said in favour of those narrow resources, which the superficial view with pity, and the worldling with scorn. And further, the assertion may be hazarded, that they are favourable to individual character and happiness, as well as to the general cause of literature and virtue.

Repeated proofs of the first position, may be drawn from the common scenery of life.--Observe that boy, in the early stages of his education.--Why does he destroy his books, and cast about him his pens and his pencils? Why are his pages the repository of blots, and deformed with dogs-ears, and his volumes alternately his sport, and his footstool? Because he feels that his parents are able to purchase more. Why does he occasionally fix on their contents, a scowling eye, and the bent brow of discontent? Fear of present discipline, or a listless desire of winning the dainties and praises of parental indulgence, are forcing a reluctant attention to his lesson.

Mark that boy at his side. Why does he so carefully use his scanty writing materials, and so faithfully return his books to their place, when his task is finished? Because he has learnt their value by the difficulty of obtaining them. Why does he pursue his studies with unremitting application, yet with a cheerful countenance? Because he considers it a privilege to be permitted to acquire knowledge, and his studies are but a recreation from severer labours. His mind takes its pastime along with its nourishment, while his companion, like a prisoner, is only anxious to escape from durance. One, in toiling to gain instruction, feels himself the indebted party: the other, if he ever submits to it, fancies he has conferred a favour which entitles him to commendation and reward. This diversity of motive, will naturally produce diversity of action; and action, long continued, becomes confirmed into habit. Time, while he palsies the springs of energy, and quenches the ardour of thought, adds force to those habits, which indulgence has fostered and nourished. And will it be supposed that habits of carelessness, watchfulness, and mental indolence, continued through the important period of school education, will have no influence on the future character? Is the productiveness of Autumn, not affected by the poverty of the blossoms of Spring; or the future symmetry of the tree, uninjured by the excrescences of the sapling? No one imagines that early habits of industry, economy, and application, stamped on the character in its formation, will ever be wholly obliterated; why then, is that state of fortune considered as an evil, which aids their implantation by the strength of necessity?

Mark that student at the University. Why is he lounging in the fashionable walks, ogling the ladies, displaying an expensive dress, contracting bills at the confectioner's and tailor's, late at prayers, listless at recitations, satisfied only in the resorts of folly, vanity, and dissipation? Why does he return home, uninformed in mind, undecided in profession, tinctured with extravagance, or involved in debt? Because he knew his parents were rich, and believed that wealth was a substitute, both for science and for virtue.

Why does a youth from the same neighbourhood, perhaps his inferior in talents, maintain the first standing in his class, and gain the honours of his seminary? What heightens his love of knowledge, brightens his eye with intelligence, incites him to mark every hour with diligence, every day with duty; what enables him to scorn luxurious indulgence, and to endure privation with a noble hardiness of soul? The consciousness that his family are poor, and that by his own exertions he must stand or fall.

Thus excited to perseverance, he ascertains the extent of his own talents, bends them to their proper objects, brightens them by exercise, and entrusts them "to the usurer, that the Giver, at his coming, may receive his own."--The indolent mind, weakened by indulgence, views knowledge as "an austere man," and committing its talent to the earth, beholds its harvest in the mildew, the mouldering, and decay of its own powers.

Where a taste for literature exists, and the means of attaining it are not precluded, narrow resources are favourable to its acquisition. Would Johnson, the giant of English literature, have gained the proud eminence which he commands, without aid from the strong hand of necessity? Did he not even express gratitude, that the touch of adversity had been appointed to rouse him from the slumber of his native indolence? Is it probable that mankind would have been delighted with the elegance of his "Prince of Abyssinia," if affluence had enabled him to discharge the mournful debt of his mother's obsequies? Did not the classical Beattie trace his ardour of literary pursuit, and his premature proficiency to the stimulus of his bursary at Aberdeen? Did he not refer some of the most descriptive stanzas in his "Minstrel," to his state of seclusion and poverty, when a parish schoolmaster, and precentor, at the foot of the Grampian Mountains?--Would the Ayrshire ploughman's "wild bird of heaven," have displayed such varying plumage, such fearless compass of tone, had it been confined in a gilded cage, and pampered with the enervating luxuries of fortune?

Whatever enforces mental application, is favourable to mental improvement; and nothing teaches the lesson of application more thoroughly than necessity. Whatever exercises the inventive powers, is favourable to genius, and necessity executes this office so powerfully, that it is styled even by the common people, "the mother of invention." The affinity between restricted resources, and virtue, is of obvious perception. Habits of self-denial, and self-control, insensibly lead to moderated desires, and inspire that content which is the secret of happiness. A well-regulated mind, by accustoming itself to privation, and sacrifice, rises superior to selfish gratifications, and improves in that disinterested state of the affections, which is one of the greatest objects of piety to cultivate.--The man, whose narrow possessions are the fruit of his own industry, will better understand their value, more studiously avoid the vices that dissipate them, and more conscientiously limit his expenses by his income.--Thus will he keep his spirit unhumbled by the embarrassments of debt, and his heart unchilled by dread at the face of a creditor. Rational economy, while it supplies him with the means of rendering every man his due, will prove also the legitimate fountain of charity. Profusion is no friend to pity; and how can he have a right to be liberal, whose debts are unpaid. The movings of Charity are silenced, by the "cry of the labourers whose wages are kept back;" while he, whose industry has satisfied the claims of justice, may make glad the hearts of theirs, while his own reproaches him not. May we not suppose that the remembrance of having ourselves known want, would soften the feelings to the wants of others? as a participation in the sufferings of sickness, creates deeper sympathy for the victims of disease? Who, with a warmer overflowing of charity, would impart bread to the hungry, and a garment to the shelterless, than the man, who had himself felt the need of one, or by his own labour obtained possession of the other? A class of distresses, of which the rich can have no conception, he has entered into; and in his humble gift there will be more charity, than in the ample donations of Pride, listening to hear Fame extol her bounty. As the Israelites were incited to hospitality, by the remembrance that they had once "been strangers in the land of Egypt," so the heart that has endured the privations of poverty, can better estimate, and more feelingly relieve them.

If the happiness of any condition be computed by its usefulness, by the energies which it awakens, and the virtues which it cherishes, may we not believe, that many in making up their account of life, will have reason to bless the Almighty Disposer, that they were shielded by his providence from the enervating influence and the dangerous temptations of wealth.

[_Con. Mirror_.

ACCOUNT OF MAMMOTH CAVE,

_in Kentucky and a remarkable Mummy, or dried Indian woman found in it_.

"I received information, that an infant, of nine or twelve months old, was discovered in a saltpetre Cave in Warren county, about four miles from the Mammoth Cave, in a perfect state of preservation. I hastened to the place; but, to my mortification, found that, upon its being exposed to the atmosphere, it had fallen into dust, and that its remains, except the skull, with all its clothing, had been thrown into the furnace. I regretted this much, and promised the labourers to reward them, if they would preserve the next subject for me. About a month afterwards, the present one was discovered, and information given to our agent at the Mammoth Cave, who sent immediately for it, and brought and placed it there, where it remained for twelve months. It appeared to be the exsiccated body of a female. The account which I received of its discovery, was simply this. It was found at the depth of about ten feet from the surface of the Cave, bedded in clay, strongly impregnated with nitre, placed in a sitting posture, incased in broad stones, standing on their edges, with a flat stone covering the whole. It was enveloped in coarse clothes, (a specimen of which accompanied it) the whole wrapped in deer skins, the hair of which was shaved off in the manner in which the Indians prepare them for market. Enclosed in the stone coffin, were the working utensils, beads, feathers, and other ornaments of dress, which belonged to her. The body was in a state of much higher perfection, when first discovered, and continued so, as long as it remained in the Mammoth Cave, than it is at present, except the depredations committed on its arms and thighs by the rats, many of which inhabit the Cave. After it was brought to Lexington, and become the subject of great curiosity, being much exposed to the atmosphere, it gradually began to decay, its muscles to contract, and the teeth to drop out, and much of its hair was plucked from its head by wanton visitants. As to the manner of its being embalmed, or whether the nitrous earth and atmosphere had a tendency to preserve it, must be left to the speculations of the learned.

The Cave in which the Mummy was found, is not of great extent, not being more than three quarters of a mile in length; its surface, covered with loose limestone, from four to six feet deep, before you enter the clay impregnated with nitre. It is of easy access, being above twenty feet wide, and six feet high, at the mouth or entrance. It is enlarged to about fifty feet wide, and ten feet high, almost as soon as you enter it. This place had evident marks of having once been the residence of the aborigines of the country, from the quantity of ashes, and the remains of fuel, and torches made of the reed, &c. which were found in it."

RECEIPT FOR MAKING ECONOMICAL BREAD.

Separate the bran and grosser part; from the flour; then take five pounds of it (of 16 ounces) and boil them in four gallons and three quarters of water, so that when it is dissolved, there shall remain three gallons and three quarters of glutinous water. With this knead fifty-six pounds of flour, adding salt and yeast, in the same manner and in the same proportion as for other bread. When the dough is ready to be put into the oven, divide it into loaves and let it bake for two hours and a half.

In this way the flour will imbibe three quarters of a gallon more of glutinous, than it would of simple water, and will yield not only a more nutritive and substantial food, but likewise an increase of a fifth beyond the quantity of common bread, a saving of one day's consumption out of six. Upon this plan, fifty-six pounds of meal will yield eighty-three pounds and a half of bread. When this is quite stale (baked since ten days) if it be put into the oven and left there for twenty minutes, it becomes fresh again, a very convenient property in long sea voyages.

BREAD MADE OF RICE AND FLOUR MIXED.

Rice is an excellent substitute for wheat flour. The following receipt for the mixture yields a solid and palatable bread.

Soften well by a slow fire a pound of rice with three quarters of a gallon of water. When it has acquired a certain degree of heat, mix up with it, well, four pounds of flour, some salt and yeast, as in making common bread; knead it and put it near the fire to rise. This will give eight pounds and a half of good bread. If the rice seems to require more water, add, for there are several qualities of rice which swell more than others.

JONAH'S GOURD.

"The bottle gourd, (_lagenaria_) grows in many parts of the world to near six feet long, and two feet thick.

The rinds or shells are used by the negroes in the West India islands as bottles, holding from one pint to many gallons. Barham speaks of one that hold nine gallons; and the Rev. Mr. Griffith Hughes mentions them in his history of Barbadoes, as holding twenty-two gallons. Sloane mentions one of these gourds as large as the human body.

* * * * *

"The gourd called Vegetable Marrow, is of a pale yellow colour. Those I have seen did not exceed from seven to nine inches in length. It has only been known a few years in this country; and, I believe, was not sold in the shops and markets before the summer of 1819; and although they are of so late an introduction, the accounts are very imperfect: but it seems most probable that the seeds were brought in some East India ships, and likely from Persia, where it is called _cicader_. It is cultivated in the same manner as cucumbers, and is said by those who have grown them to be very productive. This fruit is used for culinary purposes in every stage of its growth. When very young, it is good fried with butter; when half-grown, it is said to be excellent, either plainly boiled, and served up sliced on toasted bread, as asparagus; or stewed with rice sauce, for which purpose it is likewise sliced. It is often sent to table mashed like turnips: when full grown, it is used for pies. It has been highly recommended to me by many persons who have grown it, while others speak of it as but little superior to the pompion."

We observe, from Galiffe, that the pumpkin is the principal food of the lower orders in Venice; and have no doubt but that it might be very advantageously introduced into the messes of this country, but for the prejudice against all innovations of this sort, and for purposes of economy. All along the Danube too, the gourd and the melon constitute, during their season, the daily meals of the labouring classes.

THE PROMPTER.--No. X.

_It will do for the present._

Custom, with an iron rod, rules four-fifths of mankind. My _father_ planted corn on a certain piece of land--it answered well--_I_ do the same, though it does _not_ answer well. My neighbour such a one tells me that I had better try a change of crops, deep ploughing, or sowing turnips or clover; it may be the land will recruit; but my neighbour is notional, and fond of _new things_. _I_ do not like projects. My father did so before me, and _it does for the present_.

So says the Virginia planter; he has raised tobacco on a field, until the soil is exhausted; he knows not how to fertilize the land again; his only resource is to clear a new spot, and take the benefit of nature's manure. _This does for the present._ But when his land is _all_ impoverished, what will he do? Go to Kentucky; as the New England men to Genesec. But when the western world is all peopled, what will our _do for the present folks_ do for good land? The answer is easy; necessity will compel them to use _common sense_; and common sense will soon make old poor land rich again. When farmers learn _to work it right_, they will keep it good, for the Prompter ventures to assert, that a _proper tillage_ will for ever keep land good. How does nature _work it_? Why nature covers land with herbage; that herbage withers and rots upon the land; and gradually forms a rich black mould. But farmers, when they have used land till it will bear _no crops_, let it lie without feeding it. No herbage grows on the land, till the weeds and a little grass creep in by chance; after three or four years, the farmer ploughs it for a crop, and has a job at killing weeds. Surely the man _does not work it right_; but he says, _it will do for the present_.