were rife, and among others not the least common was the following; that it portended the introducton of a foreign race of Sovereigns on the throne of England, and that the accession of George the First was connected with the appearance of this splendid Aurora Borealis !

The cause by which this phenomenon is produced is now well understood. It is occasioned by Electricity-one of those imponderable agents pervading the earth and all substances, without affecting their volume or temperature, or even giving any visible sign of its existence when in a latent state, but when elicited, developing forces capable of producing the most sudden, violent, and destructive effects in some cases, while in others their action, though less energetic, is of indefinite and uninterrupted continuance. The phenomenon then is purely an electrical one, and is thus occasioned by the flashing of electric fire from positive towards negative clouds at a great distance, through the upper regions of the air, where the resistance is least; and Beccaria supposes that this electrical matter-in other words, the Aurora Borealis-is performing its circulation in such a state of the atmosphere as renders it visible. The magnetic needle is known to be very sensibly affected by the Aurora Borealis; and when it has extended lower than usual into the atmosphere, flashes are produced, and a kind of hissing and rumbling sound has been occasioned, which has frequently been heard by those who have witnessed the Northern Lights in high latitudes and near the Arctic Poles. Without trespassing further on the attention of your readers, it may be remarked in conclusion, that atmospherical electricity is the agent by which some of the most sublime and astonishing phenomena in nature are produced; or, in other words, that they are to be resolved into the agency of electricity. And this opinion has been formed and this conclusion has been drawn, after the most patient experiments, and the most correct investigations of scientific men. To those who wish to obtain accurate information on this highly interesting and absorbing subject, I would recommend the perusal of Mr. Dalton's Meteorological Essays.

JAMES RUDGE, D. D.

Hawkchurch Rectory, May 4th, 1837.

THE NAUTILUS.

By the Author of the "Maniac Lover," &c.

Beautiful voyager, arise! arise!
From thy cave in the ocean deep,
And fear not for thy fragile bark,
For the winds are wrapt in sleep.

Calm and serene is the boundless sea,
The sun is deep in the west,
To fill thy sail there's a gentle sigh,
From some fond lover's breast.

And a stream of soft sweet melody
Comes lightly o'er the waves,
The echo of the Naiad's song,
From ocean's coral caves.

Then beautiful voyager, speed thee on,
Nor heed the dashing spray,

For see the glory of the west,
Is dying fast away.

And now 'tis gone, tempt not the wave,
Bright inmate of the deep;

Seek, seek thy cave, for the sullen winds Are 'wakening from their sleep.

Yet still I see thee wend thy way,

On the mad waves' foaming crest,
The gusty wind seems the lullaby,
Which welcomes thee to rest.

Then beautiful voyager, onward fly,
Like a bird upon the wing,-
The wild waves, in their maddest hours,
Would not harm so fair a thing.

THE FISHERMAN LEAVING HOME.

The sun his last faint ray hath shed
Across the boundless deep;

And the wild rush of the wilder waves,
Is hushed in tranquil sleep.

The moonlight clasps its placid breast,
As with a jewelled zone;

And soft notes of music from afar,
Upon the air are thrown.

Yon graceful vessels proudly glide
Along the smooth and silv'ry tide,
So noislessly, they almost seem
The shadowing of fancy's dream.

'Neath the huge cliffs, which tow'ring high

Begirt the rugged shore,

There a lowly cot is seen to rise,

And now before its door,

The fisher's rosy children stand

His farewell kiss to seek,

And a tear is in their mother's eye;

The lily on her cheek.

Like war-steed bounding o'er the plain,

His barque will fly across the main;

And zephyrs in their airy flight,

Will hymn his lullaby to-night.

He lingers still;-that sturdy form

Enshrines no stoic's heart;

Though it boldly throb 'gainst other ills,
It may not bear to part.

The looks of love which greet him in
The circle of his home;

And those smiles of light he must resign,

The moonlit wave to roam.

But He who guards those lov'd ones' rest,

Will guide him o'er old ocean's breast;

And ere the morrow's glories wane,
Waft him to their embrace again.

MARIE.