to every degree of consistency, and other substances, the strata dipping generally towards the north. These hills have been mentioned as the remains of glaciers, but it is probable that they owe their formation equally to deposits from the Himalehs by means of other agents than ice. On the new continent the evidences of former glaciers are in proportion to the other natural characters of that magnificent country. On the shores of Lake Huron lie boulders of rocks not found within the distance of six hundred miles, mostly of granite and porphyry. There is also the same appearance as in Europe, of rock smoothed and furrowed, wherever the drift has come in contact with them. Between the Alleghany mountains and the Atlantic ocean, the diluvium conceals the underlying deposits on the eastern part of this extensive territory, consisting chiefly of fine sand and gravel, but the pebbles even there belong almost entirely to the older rocks of the interior. As we advance from the coast towards the west, the mass of diluvial matter becomes coarser and less sandy; and at length, near the rocky boundary of the plain, the gravel is much coarser, rolled blocks and large boulders occurring, but alternating with clayey beds, sufficiently pure to be used in the manufacture of bricks. Diluvium is also seen west of the Alleghanies, throughout the region of the Ohio and Mississippi, north of Alabama, where not a boulder appears on the face of the land. In Ohio, Kentucky, and Indiana, detached blocks brought from a great distance, and weighing several hundred pounds, rest on the ordinary finer diluvium, and are promiscuously dispersed; the direction of the drift being invariably from the north-west and north. In Canada the boulder formation is mixed with marine shells, showing, according to Mr. Lyell, a more arctic climate than now obtains in the neighbourhood." The boulders are of primary rocks occurring at different levels, not resting on each other, but with apparently quiet depositions of clay, gravel, and sand between them, in which the Testacea found there had lived and died. Some of the shells are broken, others have both valves joined as when they lived. "But all idea of these shells, together with the clay, sand, gravel, and boulders having been drifted together into their present position, by a violent current or rush of water, must be given up at once, when I state the fact, that the Terebratula psittacea, which are so fragile that the smallest stones would be sufficient to destroy them if carried along, even with a moderate degree of violence, by moving water, are found with their valves together, and their long brittle teeth entire as when they were living. The whole of the facts lead me to infer, that these numerous erratic blocks have been carried by ice, and dropped from time to time on the bed of the tertiary sea.' In South America the boulder formation is extensive and interesting, but would require more space than we can now give to it. Mr. Darwin says, that the agency of ice alone can be applied to the transported blocks, but he concludes that this must have been by icebergs rather than by glaciers. To his interesting volume upon the discoveries which he made in the Southern hemisphere we must refer our readers. In this house lived two brothers, who had kept up a As in constant and bitter enmity for fourteen years. the garden, so also in the house, everything was divided into two parts, from the garret down to the little cellar. The trap-door was open; but in the cellar below each of the brothers had his own stores, shut off by laths, and locked up. Padlocks were put on all the doors, as if an attack of thieves were hourly expected. The stable belonged to one brother, the shed to the other: not a word was spoken in the house, except an occasional oath, muttered by one of the brothers. Michael and Conrad (so the brothers were named) were advanced in years, and both were single. Conrad had been married, but his wife had died early; and Michael had always remained a bachelor. A large old chest was the first cause of this feeling between the brothers. Upon the death of their mother, everything had been divided between them; for their sister, who was married and settled in the village, had already received her portion. Conrad declared he had bought the chest with his own money, which he earned by breaking stones upon the roads. He said that he had only lent it to his mother, and at her death it became his property again. Michael, on the contrary, asserted that, as Conrad had always lived with his mother, and been maintained by her, he could not possess any property of his own. After an angry quarrel between the brothers, the affair was referred to the bailiff, and afterwards to the court at Horb; and it was finally decreed that, as they could not settle the matter amicably, everything in the house, including the chest in dispute, should be sold by auction, and the proceeds shared between them. Even the house itself was put up for sale, but, as no purchaser could be found, the brothers were obliged to keep it. chattels, their beds, and other things, by public auction. They had now to repurchase their own goods and To Conrad this was a great grief, for he had more feeling than is ordinarily met with. There are in every house many things which possess a value beyond their market price; for thoughts and recollections are attached to them, in which the world at large can have no share. Such things ought to be preserved, and quietly handed down from generation to generation, that their worth may remain unimpaired; for, as soon as they pass into the hands of strangers, their value, as a sacred inheritance, is lost. Conrad repeatedly shook his head, as these thoughts crossed his mind, when some old piece of household furniture or other was knocked down to him; and when his mother's hymn-book, with its silver clasps and studs, was offered for sale, and a pedlar took it in his hand to weigh the silver, the blood flew to his face, and he bid for the book at any price. At last came the turn for the chest to be sold. Michael hemmed aloud, looked at his brother with an air of defiance, and inflorin more, without raising his eyes, and all the while stantly bid a considerable sum. Conrad quickly bid a counting the buttons on his jacket. But Michael, looking boldly around, bid still higher. No other person advanced more; but out of bravado neither of the brothers would let the other have the thing in dispute: moreover, each thought to himself that he should only and higher. At length the chest was knocked down to have to pay the half, and so went on bidding higher Conrad for eight-and-twenty florins, more than five times its worth. For the first time Conrad now raised his eyes, and his look was quite altered; he cast a scornful glance at Michael, and, trembling with rage, exclaimed, “When you die, I'll make you a present of the chest for again." The Jews were also very useful to him, and he in coffin!" These were the last words he spoke to him turn played into their hands. for fourteen years. The story of the chest soon spread through the village, and became the subject of general raillery and jokes. When any one met Conrad, he remarked how shamefully Michael had behaved; and the former worked himself up by degrees into a fury. The two brothers were of very different dispositions, and each pursued his own way in life. Conrad kept a cow, which he used to yoke with his neighbour Christian's cow for field work; whilst in his spare time he broke stones on the roads, for which he was paid sixpence a day. He was very short-sighted, and walked unsteadily; and whenever he struck a spark to light his pipe, he held the tinder close to his nose, to make sure that it was alight; so, throughout the village he went by the name of "Blind Conrandle." Michael was the very reverse of his brother; he was tall and slim, and walked with a firm step, carrying himself with all the air of a peasant; not that he was one exactly, but it was useful to him in his trade to appear so. He dealt in old horses, and people have a much greater confidence in a horse which they purchase from a fellow in a smock-frock. Michael had once been a farrier, but was unlucky in business; so he either sold or let his fields, gave himself up to horse-dealing, and lived the life of a gentleman. He was a person of great importance throughout the country; for a distance of six or eight miles round he knew the exact state of all the stables, just as well as a statesman knows the statistics of foreign countries, and the position of dif ferent cabinets; and, as the latter learns the disposition of the people through the public journals, so Michael sounded the country folks, and got at his information in the public-houses. In every village, too, he had some idle fellow as his resident, with whom he held frequent secret conferences, and who in all cases of need used to despatch an express-in his own person--to Michael, a job for which he merely demanded a bottle of wine. But Michael had also his secret agents, who instigated the stable-lads to acts of revolt; and it generally happened that he had in his shed (which served him for a stable) some jaded old horse, which he tricked out for sale in a new campaign; he coloured the hair over its eyes, filed its teeth, and though the poor beast could no longer eat anything else but bran, what cared he? The next market-day he was sure to get rid of it for more than its worth. On these occasions he had his peculiar tricks and stratagems for instance, he used to place some accom. plice in the market place, who would pretend to want to make an exchange; then they would come to high words, and Michael would cry aloud, "I can't exchange; I have neither food nor stall-room, and if I have to sell the horse for a dollar, it can't be helped, go he must." At another time he would play a still deeper trick; for a few pence he got some poor bumpkin to ride the horse up and down the market, as if it were his own, and then said to the bystanders,-"Ah, if a fellow had that horse who knew how to manage him, he would soon bring him into condition, and make a handsome beast of him his make is perfect; he wants nothing but flesh, and then he would fetch his twenty dollars at the least." When Michael, on his way to market or return home, saw Conrad breaking stones upon the road, he cast a look at him, half in pity half in scorn, and thought, "Poor devil! breaking stones there from morning to night for sixpence a day, whilst I can earn, even with moderate good luck, six florins." Conrad, short-sighted as he was, noticed his brother's scornful look, and worked away, banging and splitting the stones till they flew right and left. We shall see, however, which got on best in the world. Michael was a great favourite in the village, for he could go on telling tales from morning till night, and knew all the tricks and ways of the world. Of better things he certainly knew little; for, though he occasionally went to church, he went, as too many do, without giving a thought to what he heard, and without bettering his life. Conrad too had his faults, foremost amongst which was his enmity to his brother, and the manner in which he showed this. When any one asked him, How does your brother Michael go on?" he only answered by making a sign with his hand under his chin, as much as to say, "Some day or other he will be hanged!" The folks were of course not sparing in putting this question, and a great shout always followed when they got Conrad to give his usual reply. In other ways, too, the villagers excited the mutual enmity of the brothers, not exactly out of malice, but for idle fun. Michael, however, only shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, when they talked of Conrad as "the poor devil." The brothers never remained together in the same room; if they chanced to meet in the village inn, or in their sister's house, one of them instantly hurried away. Nobody thought of a reconciliation between them, and, whenever two men quarrelled, it was a proverbial saying, "They lived like Michael and Conrad." At home the brothers spoke not a word, nor did they ever look at one another when they met. Nevertheless, if either of them observed that the other was unwell and kept his bed, he would instantly run to his sister, who lived at some distance, and say to her, "Go up, and see him; I think something is the matter with him." And on his return home he would move about and work quietly and without noise, so as not to disturb the other. But abroad, and among the neighbours, Michael and Conrad lived in perpetual enmity, and no one imagined that a spark of affection still existed in their hearts. This state of things continued for fourteen years. Meanwhile, by constantly buying and selling, all the money which Michael gained from the sale of his two fields had slipped through his fingers, he knew not how. But Conrad had bought another field from a neighbour who was about to emigrate, and had paid nearly all the purchase-money. Michael now set up as a kind of agent or adviser to other people in making their bargains, and he calculated that, by the sale of another field, he should bring matters round, and set himself up in business again. "And there arose up a new king in Egypt." The villagers of Nordstetten might, in a peculiar manner, apply this verse of Exodus to themselves. The old parson was dead; he had been a good man, but had let things go their own way. His successor, on the contrary, was a zealous young man, who was for setting every thing to rights; and certainly he accomplished a Then Michael soon found a purchaser, bargained with good deal. One Sunday, after morning service, the peahim for a commission fee, and thus got a double profit sants were sitting and chatting together on the timbers by the sale of his own horse. He hated any law trans- which lay near the village pump, and which were actions, which required a guarantee for soundness; and, intended to build the new engine house. Michael was when pushed to this extremity, would rather sacrifice a one of the group; he sat, with his elbows fixed on his couple of florins than enter into any such engagement: knees, looking on the ground and chewing a straw. nevertheless, he had often a law-suit on his hands, which Little Peter, the son of John the watchman, a boy of ate up the horse together with the profit. Still there was five years old, ran past, when one of the villagers called such a charm in this free, roving, and idle life, that, to the child, and said, putting his hand into his pocket, taking the good with the bad, Michael could not resolve "Hollo, Peter! here's a handful of nuts for you, if you to give up horse-dealing. He acted on the principle, make a face like Conrad. What does Conrad do?" The Never go home from market without striking a bar-child shook his head, and was running off; for he was a sensible little urchin, and was afraid of Michael; but they held him fast, till at last he made the sign of hanging under his chin. At this there was a shout of laughter, that might be heard through the whole village. But, when the boy asked for the nuts, it turned out that the man who had promised them had none; and a fresh shout arose as the boy ran up to the cheat and gave him a kick. Meanwhile the new parson had come down the little hill by the court-house, and stood watching all that passed; but, just as the boy Peter was going to be beaten for his demand of the nuts, the parson stepped quickly up, and snatched the boy away. Instantly all the peasants drew back, and took off their caps. The parson now beckoned to the sexton, who happened to be standing by, to accompany him through the village, and learnt from him the whole story about the enmity of the brothers, and all that we have related above. The following Saturday, as Conrad was breaking stones in the village, he received an invitation to call upon the parson the next morning after service. He stared at the sexton, his pipe went out, and for a minute the stone remained unbroken under his wooden-soled shoe. He could not conceive what was to happen at the parsonage, and would gladly have gone that very instant. The invitation was brought to Michael just as he was "polishing the Sunday boots" of an old horse, for so he called cleaning the hoofs. He was whistling a snatch of a song, but stopped short in the middle, knowing full well the lecture that was in store for him, and glad to have time to prepare a saucy reply, scraps of which he muttered to himself. On Sunday morning the parson preached a sermon from a verse of the 133d Psalm: Behold, how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." He pointed out how all earthly happiness and fortune arc as nothing, unless shared and enjoyed with those who have rested with us on the same mother's breast. He showed how those parents can never be happy in this world, nor blest in the next, whose children are estranged from one another by envy, hatred, or malice; he quoted the example of Cain and Abel, and showed how brotherly hate was the first cause of sin. All this, and much more, the parson spoke with a clear and thundering voice, till the people said, one to another, "He'll bring the walls about our ears!" But, alas! it is often easier to move stone walls than the hardened hearts of men. Barbara wept bitterly as she thought of the conduct of her brothers; and, although the parson addressed his remarks to his auditors at large, and urged every one to lay his hand upon his heart, and ask himself whether he had a true affection for his kindred, nevertheless every one present felt sure that he referred to Michael and Conrad. The two brothers were standing not far from one another; Michael bit his cap, which he held between his teeth, but Conrad stood listening, with open mouth; and once, when their eyes met, the cap fell from Michael's hand, and he stooped down quickly to pick it up. The psalm tune ended with a soft and peaceful close; but, before the last sounds died away, Michael had left the church, and was standing at the parsonage door. It was still locked, so he went into the garden, and stood for a time beside the bee-hives, watching the busy activity of the little creatures. "They know not what Sunday is!" thought he to himself; "and I, too, have no Sunday in my way of living, for I have no regular day of work." Then, again, he thought, "How many hundred brothers and sisters live together in such a hive, and all work like their parents!" But he did not give way to these thoughts long, and resolved not to let the parson lecture him. As he turned toward the church-yard, the last words of Conrad recurred to his mind, and he involuntarily clenched his fist. When Michael came out of the garden, he found Conrad and the parson already engaged in eager conversation. The latter, who seemed to have given up expecting him, rose, and begged him to take a chair; but Michael, pointing to his brother, answered, "With all respect to your Reverence, I cannot sit down in the same room with that man. Your Reverence has not been long in the village, and you know not what a sackful of lies he is-a sneaking, hypocritical fellow." Then, trembling with rage, he continued: "That man is the cause of all my misfortunes; he banished peace from our house, and drove me to take to horse-dealing, and bad ways. Ah!" he exclaimed, darting a fierce look at Conrad, "you prophesied-yes, you—that I should hang myself in a halter; but, mark me, your turn will come first!" The parson allowed them to vent their rage, only interposing his authority to check any personal violence. He felt sure that, when their long-fostered and secret anger was exhausted, some remains of brotherly love would still be found, and brought to light; but he was in part disappointed. At length both brothers sat down, speechless, and breathing hard. The parson then addressed them, at first in a gentle tone, disclosing all the hidden recesses of the heart; but it was in vain-they both cast their eyes down upon the floor. He then pictured to them the anguish of their parents in the next world. Conrad sighed, but did not raise his eyes. Then the parson summoned all his power, and with a voice like that of a denouncing prophet, he reminded them how, after death, they would have to appear before the judgmentseat, and there answer fearfully for the sin of brotherly hate. He ended; and there was a silence. Conrad wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve; then he rose from his chair, and said, "Michael!” Michael had not heard that sound for so many years, that he started, and looked up. Conrad stepped nearer, and said, " Michael, forgive me!" The hands of the brothers were in a moment fast locked in one another; and the parson laid his hand upon them to bless the act. When Michael and Conrad were seen coming down the little hill by the court-house, hand-in-hand, every eye was upon them-not a man but felt a secret joy at his heart. As soon as they reached home, the first thing they did on entering the house was to wrench off every padlock and fastening; and having done so, they went into the garden, and levelled the hedge with the ground; no matter what cabbages were destroyed, all token of their former discord had instantly to be removed. Then they went to their sister's house, and they all ate together at the same table. In the afternoon the two brothers sat in the church side by side, and each held a corner of their mother's hymn-book in his hand. From that time forwards their lives were spent happily, in unity of spirit, and in the bonds of peace. LINES TO A BEAUTIFUL SPRING IN A VILLAGE. ONCE more, sweet stream! with slow foot wand'ring near, The rustic here, at eve, with pensive look, I bless thy milky waters cold and clear. Whistling lorn ditties, leans upon his crook, Coleridge. THE CINQUE PORTS.-DOVER. We all know that "it is but a step from Dover to Calais," though, if all we hear be true, that "step" is sometimes a doleful and weary one; sufficiently so to call up pathetical imaginings in the "sea-sick" mind, of the delights of dusty high roads, and even of those lines "Where all antipathies to comfort dwell," the railroads. Yet, if ancient records speak sooth, our ancestors might, (had they invented steam,) have travelled by railway from London to Paris, if some untoward convulsion in ancient days had not ruthlessly riven our little island from its parent earth; or if the perpetual contests of Neptune's angry hosts of the north and southern oceans had not, by slower degrees, but with equally certain result, worn away the obstacle which opposed their meeting. For there is an old tradition,-one, too, which has not lacked the support of the learned,-that our little island, which rises so proudly from her surrounding waves- which towers SO independently from the bosom of the hoary deep-and which boasts so loftily of her Queenship over the whole earth, was once in truth and reality only an insignificant corner of the continent of Europe;1 and consequently, that "Master John Bull," of independent fame, was, not metaphorically, but literally, a born brother of "Mounseer." But wince not so desperately, John! It was in your nonage; nay, you were hardly even in your cradle: it was when the Aborigines of the earth were nursing mothers of future Goths and Scandinavians; when even Gauls were hid in the womb of futurity; when Franks were an unimaginable mystery, and French "lingo" and English "bullism" WERE NOT. Therefore, John, be appeased: the "smiling plains” of modern France were then rugged enough even for thy fierce tread. The early annals of ours, as of other countries, are somewhat enveloped in fable, somewhat involved in obscurity; but our imaginations will (1) The exactly corresponding, yet somewhat peculiar form of the Dover and Calais cliffs, the existence of a reef of rocks of similar formation across the strait, and not far beneath the surface of the water, and the probable redemption of Holland, Zealand, and part of Flanders from the sea, are the chief circumstances which have induced some writers to believe that England was once a peninsula, not an island. "in hir yonger years Vast earthbred Giants woo'd her---" marked out as the arena of chivalry. Those hapEven at this period, as ever since, Dover was pily constituted souls who, as a learned writer remarks, "swallow Jeffrey of Monmouth without chewing," may delight in his vivid and minute description of the fearful encounters here of" myghtie and strong Gyants." In these pages it may suffice to remark that Brute, the great grandson of Æneas, in obedience to the decree of an oracle, travelled to accomplish his fortunes somewhere about the time that Eli was judge in Israel. On arriving at whom he was fated to destroy, and the death of our happy island, he found it inhabited by giants, one of the hugest of these, called Gog Magog, by a push over the cliff at Dover, first gave name and fame to the place. It is to a period later than this, and yet one deeply involved in the mists of obscurity-the reign of Lear, a British king, that Shakspeare has referred that description of one of the cliffs of Dover, which, more than all the histories ever written, has rendered this place familiar to the imaginations of his countrymen. "How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge, This cliff, however, which still bears the name of Shakspeare's Cliff, is supposed from the constant |