miah, “they shall march an army, and come against her with axes, as hewers of wood. They shall cut down her forests, saith the Lord, though it cannot be searched, because they are more than the grasshoppers, and are innumerable."* The French, under Buonaparte, were preparing to adopt the same policy, when the people, being apprehensive of utter ruin, immediately laid down their arms.

Much is here comprised in one vegetable production, that in Europe is effected by the skill and industry of man, in deriving what is essential to his wants, from various natural productions, and these frequently far distant, and requiring in their cultivation both care and knowledge. If the palm-tree was consigned to our favoured region, innumerable hands might remain unemployed: those energies which are now directed to works of utility, might be wasted in idleness, or banefully employed; for man is an active creature, and the idle hand is often turned against a brother of the species. Now observe a few among those innumerable animals and vegetables, that are employed in Europe to supply our wants, and how simply, yet how completely, the same purpose is effected in a different climate by the stately phoenix. Milk is the produce of our herds; the keeping of them is necessarily attended with expense. Grasses must be sown for their use; the selling of these is the business of the seedsman; and the planting and mowing, the making of them into hay, when mown, and the thatching of the rick, in order to preserve them from the wet, furnishes occupation to innumerable hands. The date-tree would supersede all these; for a sweet mucilaginous juice, re

* Jer. xlvi. 22, 23.

sembling milk, plentifully exudes from the excavated

stem.

Meal, too, is the produce of corn, and, in the preparation of it, how many are employed! The field must be ploughed, the seed-corn sown, stones picked off, and weeds rooted up; rains also must descend to foster it, and the winds must blow, the sun shine bright, and the beautiful harvest moon ripen the corn. Then come the reapers' pleasant toil, the waggon constructed of wood and iron, and teams of horses to carry off the loaded grain; the barn in which it is deposited, with walls of stone, and slated roof, and glazed windows; the thresher, the mealman, and the baker. All these are generally put in requisition before a single loaf of bread is placed upon the table. But the palm-tree supersedes the corn, the waggon and the barn, the thresher and the mealman. It contains within its ample storehouse, meal, as good as that obtained from wheat.

Honey is in this country equally wholesome and agreeable. Bees, we know, produce it; but bees must be hived, and their hives are an article of trade; they are made from straw, and the making of them employs many hands; the selling of wax and honey many more. And how wonderfully is the bee constructed to answer these important purposes! The proboscis, and the honey-bag, the instinct which impels the little rover to the field or garden in search of food, are all adapted to the same end. The flowers, too, how admirably are they made; they are furnished with nectaries, and secrete a sweet juice; they are often so arranged as to supply resting places for the little feet, while the industrious bee collects the yellow dust from off the anthers, and forms it into pellets for her combs. The best honey is generally produced from wild

thyme: and here it is worthy of remark, that herbivorous animals attach themselves to the leaves of grass, leaving untouched the stalks that support the flowers. How wonderfully is the preservation of every living thing provided for! What a beautiful arrangement, and consistency is observable throughout the whole creation! If sheep, in pasturing, preferred the flower to the leaf, what would become of the industrious bee? The humming she makes, by the quick vibration of her wings, in collecting her summer harvest, would be over, there would be no sound of bees about the hive. Seeds must also fail, and our verdant meadows, unrenewed from one season to another, would often be covered with weeds. "The flocks would be cut off from the fold, there would be no herd in the stalls ;" and as the fields could yield no meat, how could man be clothed and fed? Thus are the support and well-being of society, in a great degree, dependant on the strict observance of that one law, to which the Creator has subjected all herbivorous animals.

We may also briefly notice, that the profits arising from a range of bee-hives, often pay the rent of an industrious cottager; and that wax is used for many important purposes.

The phoenix would supersede the bee; for honey is procured from its dates. In the making of our couches, baskets, mats, bags, and brushes, what a variety of materials are required! Think of what enters into the composition of one of these: of the wire, the wood, and paint that is necessary even for a bird-cage. All these materials, one solitary tree, the palm, affords.

Threads, ropes, and rigging, employ in their construction innumerable hands; the materials for making them,

come frequently from a distance, and then both shipbuilders and sailors find employment, and the manufacture of cables and sails is a considerable and lucrative branch of commerce. All these are comprised in the date-tree.

Now if this noble tree had grown plentifully in the British isles, innumerable hands would have been unemployed, and many curious and beautiful inventions might never have been elicited; whereas in the arid regions, to which it is mercifully assigned, none of those plants, and animals, could exist, which in this country call forth the energies and ingenuity of man.

Herds cannot be sustained in sandy deserts, grass will not grow there, nor is iron the production of the earth there; and if it was, the intolerable heat of a burning sun would render the smelting impossible. The industrious bee could not exist upon the deserts; there is neither rock nor tree to afford her a shelter, nor pleasant flowers yielding wax and honey, nor straw with which to form her hive. None of the various productions, of which couches, mats, and baskets, bags, brushes, or garden-fences are made, could grow in a torrid clime; nor are there any rivers, down which a gallant vessel with oars might pass, nor ships to bring home the hemp, and wire, the soap, and pitch of other lands. Neither if there were, could manufactories be set up, from the want of wood and iron, or men be found to labour hard in a sultry and intolerable clime. Every needful want is, therefore, abundantly supplied by the phoenix, and in speaking of it, we refer to the vast deserts of Arabia and Sahara,

Thus it is evident, that the productions of the temperate zone could neither exist, nor be appropriated

among tracts of burning sand; and that if the palm-tree of the East was to spring up in our fields, trade, commerce, and industry, would simultaneously languish, and a variety of plants and animals seem to be made in vain.

Now turn from the glowing regions of the Line, to Kamtschatka, that barren and inhospitable land, incumbered with unwholesome marshes, and impenetrable thickets, where, during nine long months, snow lies thick upon the ground. Corn, consequently, cannot grow there; but, instead of this, the most fertile spots are luxuriantly covered during summer with Sarenne. The roots of this valuable plant are gathered by the women in August, when they are dried in the sun, and laid up for winter use: they make excellent bread, and when baked, and reduced to powder, serve instead of flour in various dishes. They are also very nutritious, and are often washed and dressed like potatoes. This plant is evidently a provision for the Kamtschatkadales, and answers the same purpose in those regions, as our own rich fields of waving corn in these more favoured climates. But there are two parts connected with the sarenne, that may well detain us a few minutes. When the migratory species of fish, which annually visit in innumerable multitudes the sea and rivers of Kamtschatka, become scarce, the sarenne is plentiful; when, on the contrary, this valuable plant begins to fail, the rivers are full of fish. The economic mouse, also, is a valuable coadjutor. This little animal principally lives upon the roots of the sarenne, which it not only collects at the proper season, and lays up in magazines for winter store, but also occasionally brings out, and spreads upon the ground in sunny weather, as if careful to preserve them from the danger of decay. The natives search for these hoards,

D