From Valparaiso, Mr. Darwin set out on an excursion to cross the Cordillera, and having ascended to a considerable height, on one of the patches of perpetual snow, he found the red snow described by Arctic navigators. He observed that the footprints of the mules were stained red, as if their hoofs had been slightly bloody; at first, he thought it was dust which had blown from the mountains of red porphyry, these extremely minute plants appearing like coarse grains, from the magnifying power of the crystals of snow. A small portion of it rubbed on paper communicated a faint rose tinge mixed with a little brick-red. He placed some of the discolored snow between the leaves of his pocketbook, and a month afterwards examined the traces on the paper. When scraped off, the specimens were of a spherical form, with a diameter of the thousandth of an inch. When living, on the snow, they are collected in groups, many lying close together. When immersed in any fluid, the central part appeared like a drop of red, oily matter, containing a few very small granules, which are probably the germs of a future growth.

There is a good deal of interest in Mr. Darwin's account of his passage over the mountains; but the scenery has been described, and the difficulty and danger are well understood. In the higher ascent, they experienced that difficulty of respiration which is called puna by the Chilenos, who consider it a disease, and maintain that many have died of it; persons, probably, who had some disease of the heart, and were overcome by the effort of ascending. The only sensation in himself, which he could ascribe to the rarefied atmosphere, was a slight stricture over the head and chest, and this was at once forgotten when he came in sight of fossil shells. Two of his companions, not aware that water, at the height of two miles, boils at a lower temperature, were vainly endeavouring to cook potatoes; after boiling them the usual time, they came out as hard as they went in ; much to the surprise and displeasure of the hungry travellers, who, not able to account for it in any other way, inferred that it must be the fault of the pot, on which, accordingly, they bestowed appropriate benedictions. The dryness of the atmosphere appeared in the shrinking of the handle of a geological hammer, the hardening of articles of food like bread and sugar, and the preservation of the skin and parts

of the flesh of beasts which had perished on the road. To the same cause he ascribed the facility with which electricity was excited. Flannel, when rubbed in the dark, appeared as if it had been washed in phosphorus; every hair on a dog's back crackled, and sparks came from linen sheets and the straps of the saddle.

He describes, what other travellers have noticed, the increased brilliancy of the moon and stars, when seen from a great elevation. The extreme clearness of the air gives a peculiar character to the scenery, and it is from this cause, quite as much as from the absence of objects of comparison, that the traveller judges incorrectly of the size and distance of the things within his view. During the day, the sky was very often covered with clouds; but at night, when they cleared away, the great mountains, in the bright full moon, seemed hanging over them, as if they had been buried at the bottom of some deep ravine. Sometimes travelling is interrupted by storms, even in the depth of summer; but the guides told him that there was no risk of a heavy snow-storm, without thunder and lightning attending it to give warning.

From Peru, the Beagle sailed to Tahiti, an island now drawn into the eddy of European politics, and suffering more from those who take to themselves the name of civilized than ever it did from the darkness in which it formerly lay. In the civilization of the present day there are about three parts of barbarism; and in dealing with an unenlightened people, a Christian nation is sure to turn to them one of its savage sides, a fact which is painfully illustrated in the history of every great nation of the present day. The people of Tahiti were then under the influence of missionaries, and were happily advancing in a course of improvement, which has since been miserably interrupted by the base proceedings of the French, intent, like their English neighbours, on making the possessions of others their own, without the least restraint of conscience or of shame. Mr. Darwin was greatly delighted with the appearance of the inhabitants. There was a mildness of aspect, which banished the idea that they were savages; and an intelligence which showed them to be advancing in civilization. They received strangers with cheerful and friendly confidence, not aware, at the time, how soon they might have reason to regret that Europeans

had ever discovered their little island in the heart of the

sea.

The land susceptible of cultivation is only a border of low alluvial soil, lying at the base of the mountains which form the interior of the island, and very little elevated above the level of the sea. It is protected from the waves by a coral reef, which encircles the whole island, forming a safe harbour for ships, and affording some passages through which they can enter. This fringe of soil has a most luxuriant vegetable growth; and in the midst of orange, cocoa, banana, and breadfruit trees, are cleared fields, where yams, sweet potatoes, sugarcanes, and pineapples are cultivated. Through these forests or orchards, small winding paths lead to the scattered houses. The only way to go into the interior is to follow up one of the valleys which descend on the sides of the mountains.

The account which Mr. Darwin gives of the moral and social state of the islanders is full of interest, and must be regarded as the testimony of a perfectly impartial witness in favor of the efforts and success of the missionaries. He says that there is no truth whatever in the assertion, that they had become gloomy and superstitious; on the contrary, they were remarkable for the cheerful kindness of their bearing; and he thinks that the prevailing tone of morals is honorable both to the islanders and those who have taught them. He also intimates, what has been violently suspected before, that these unfavorable representations come from those who are disappointed at finding licentiousness less privileged than in former days, and who would fain restore the times when the heathen Christian may teach the Christian heathen the arts and refinements of his own most degrading sins. The captain of the Beagle was instructed to demand three thousand dollars as compensation for an English vessel which had been plundered; an assembly was gathered to consider the subject; the chiefs and people offered to contribute what was wanted; and when the English captain suggested that their private property ought not to suffer for the crime of distant islanders, they said that they were grateful for his consideration, but they did it cheerfully for the sake of their queen. From Tahiti they proceeded to New Zealand, where they were equally struck with what the missionaries had been able to accomplish, and that, too, against the resistance of for

eign residents, many of whom are drunken, licentious, and contemptible, and yet rejoice in the name of Christian. But in spite of this opposition, houses are built, windows framed, fields cultivated, mills set in motion, and orchards grafted, by New Zealanders themselves. There were large fields of barley and wheat, potatoes and clover, and gardens containing not only the familiar vegetables, such as asparagus, beans, cucumbers, rhubarb, gooseberries, currants, and grapes, but many others peculiar to warmer countries. More attention is here paid to the arts of civilization than in Tahiti, where the same results are sought in direct religious instruction and improvement of the mind. This is, perhaps, because the mind of the Tahitian is of a higher order. In the northern part of the island, a majority are believed to profess the Christian faith; and those who have not embraced it feel the influence of this wondrous religion in a sense of shame, which makes them less bold and confident in their views than in former days. Surely there is some reason to rejoice in such manifestations in this land of polygamy, murder, cannibalism, and all other atrocious crimes.

In his account of Australia, Mr. Darwin makes some remarks on the manner in which the aborigines waste and disappear before the Europeans who establish themselves among them. The famous law of population, so triumphantly put forward by Malthus, may have some application to the case of such a people, who do little or nothing to increase the means of subsistence on which they depend. At New Zealand, the strong and manly natives knew that their children were to pass away from the land; in Tahiti, where infanticide has been abolished since the voyages of Cook, the inhabitants have diminished in numbers. But it also appears, and the accounts of New England voyagers go to confirm it, that diseases are introduced by ships, or rather by the intemperance which they bring with them, which do more than internal wars or any other cause to sweep the natives away. It is certain that waste and disappear they must; but this no more justifies the proceedings of many civilized men in respect to them, than the well known fact that a man must die can be pleaded in excuse for one who murders him. It must needs be that they pass away; but there is woe and retribution for those by whom they are dispossessed, if the order of nature is hastened by hardships and wrongs.

Mr. Darwin, at the close of his work, makes a summary of the advantages and discomforts of a five years' voyage, in which, though he is no enthusiast, he gives the preponderance to the former. Of the ocean he speaks with a coolness to which that element is but little used; saying, that, after all its boasted glories, it is but a tedious waste, a desert of water. He speaks with some respect of a clear moonlight night upon the sea; but as for the storm, with all its boasted sublimity, he thinks that it bears no comparison with the same agitation of the winds on shore. The scenery which he saw on his voyage was more varied and stupendous than Europe.could have afforded him; but after all his tastes as an observer of nature are satisfied, he seems to be most interested in the sight of man, in those earlier stages of barbarism through which our own ancestors must have passed. Doubtless, to some future age our own civilization will appear like a variety of barbarism, or at least like a transition state; but meantime it is matter of study and reflection to observe those peculiarities out of which, or of something like which, our present social systems have sprung.

ART. VIII. The Poets and Poetry of Europe, with Introductions and Biographical Notices. By Henry W. LONGFELLOW. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart. 1845. 8vo. pp. 779.

To the student of poetry, who is not acquainted with the languages of continental Europe, this large and handsome volume will bring a great store of amusement and instruction. Within a moderate compass, it gives him the means of gaining a connected view, and one as complete and perfect as can be obtained without a knowledge of the original tongues, of the poetical literature which exists in ten languages. Six of these, the Anglo-Saxon, Icelandic, Danish, Swedish, German, and Dutch, belong to the great Gothic family of the North; while the remaining four, the French, Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, are daughters of the Latin. We find here some of the editor's own beautiful translations, most of which, however, had previously ap