in the vivâ voce less formal encounters which example thus set was shortly afterwards followed by a learned Moolla, who during the controversy had been the stoutest opposer of Christ. During the years 1834 and 1835 Dr. Wilson was called upon to endure the two trials which constantly cast their shadow over the life of Europeans in India-to part from his children and to lose his wife. During his absence on a tour to Goa it was found necessary to send the eldest of their three remaining children-one had died, and another soon afterwards followed-Andrew, to Scotland. Very pathetic are the references in the correspondence of husband and wife to the deaths and separation. But the heaviest blow was still to fall. After a visit to Surat which Mrs. Wilson paid with her husband in 1834, she had been strongly urged to return. to Scotland as the only means of saving her life. She wrote on the 31st of March to a friend :-"It seems worse than death to part from my husband, but, if I must indeed go, the Lord will give me strength for the hour of trial." On the 8th of April she wrote to her boy at home:-"The last letter that your dearest mamma will ever write to you," and as she laid down the pen, exclaimed, "Now I am ready to die." But not till the struggling spirit had cared for the Marathee girls also, for she ever spoke in the agony of dissolution to them: "Anandie, Yeshu Christiavar phar priti theva:" "Oh, | Anandie, I beseech you, greatly love Jesus Christ." Dr. Wilson's biographer says of her:-"Margaret Wilson was the first, as with Ann Judson she was the greatest, of that band of women missionaries whom Great Britain and America have given to India. To her more than to any other is due the rapid progress of female education in Bombay, not only in Christian schools, but in Parsee, Hindoo, and even Mohammedan families." Her work was soon after taken up by her two sisters, who ably seconded Dr. Wilson's efforts, and otherwise were a help and comfort to him till the death of the one and the marriage of the other. In 1836 the degree of D.D. was conferred upon him by his Alma Mater, the University of Edinburgh, in recognition of his eminent abilities and acquirements a distinction which greatly encouraged and delighted him. An important feature in Dr. Wilson's activity were the long tours he made throughout the Presidency of Bombay and the neighbouring districts-tours which not only gave him abundant opportunity of preaching the gospel alike to high and low, but were also utilised by him for amassing the stores of knowledge touching the habits, custom, religion, morals, political and social condition, dialects, temples, antiquities of the people, with other matters, that made him an authority not only for travellers visiting Bombay, but even for the governmental officials. Several times during his journeys he was exposed to great danger-once from robbers, once from the kick of a horse, a third time from a tiger, and the last from a cause so exceptional that it is worthy of a more particular reference. "As Mr. Henderson (a fellow-missionary) and I were engaged," wrote Dr. Wilson, “with a few friends and some of the pupils in making researches into the natural history and antiquities of the island of Salsette, we were attacked by an immense cloud of wild bees. Mr. Henderson, who was the first to be stung, soon sank on one of the jungle-roads in the hopeless attempt to guard himself from injury; and he had lain for about forty minutes in a state of almost total insensibility VIII. N.S. In my before he was found by our friends and any relief could be extended to him. It was on my joining him from behind, when he first gave the alarm, that I came in contact with the thousands of infuriated insects. I sprang into a bush for shelter, but there I got no adequate covering from their onset. attempt to free myself from agony and entanglement I slid over a precipice, tearing both my clothes and body among the thorns in the rapid descent of about forty feet. From the number of bees which still encompassed. me and multiplied upon me, and my inability to move from them, I had a pretty strong impression upon my mind that unless God Himself especially interposed on my behalf, all my wanderings and journeyings must then have terminated, though by the humblest agency. That interposition I experienced. I had kept hold of a pillow with which I had gone to Mr. Henderson, and tearing it open on the bushes when I was unable to rise, I found within it, most unexpectedly, about a 37 522 couple of square yards of blanket. In the gentleness, and self-denying sincerity, that circumstances, it was like a sheet sent down when he died none mourned his departure from heaven to cover my head; and, partially more sincerely than they. We have not space protected by it, I lay till the bees left me. to speak of the various other learned investiWhen, from the poison of the numerous gations in which he engaged, and the able stings which I had received, violent vomiting treatises which grew out of them. This is a and other agitation came on, and my pulse side of his activity which would deserve a failed and my heart fainted, a native, a long chapter by itself. Thakoor, one of the aboriginal sons of the forest, who had come up, pulled me into the shade and made a noise which was heard by our friends. . . . . The illustration used by the Psalmist, 'They compassed me about like bees,' has now an intensity and appropriateness of meaning to me which I never before realised." Allusions have already been made to Dr. Wilson's philological attainments, but special notice is deserved by what he did for the Zand language and literature. This is the language in which the religious books of the Parsees, the so-called fire-worshippers of the East, are written. He was the first English scholar to master the original texts, as is allowed even by pure Orientalists-and we may add also the first missionary to educate and admit to the Christian Church converts from the Zoroastrian faith. A lecture which he delivered on the most authoritative work acknowledged by the Parsees, namely, the Vendidad, gave rise to a long controversy and much discussion. The Parsees were on their part so confident of the strength of their position that they challenged him and other Christians to do their worst. One of them boastingly wrote, "You cannot even dream of the conversion of a Parsee, because even a Parsee babe crying in the cradle confides firmly in the venerable Zartusht." And yet some of Dr. Wilson's best converts were from these same religionists; and one of them eventually became an able minister of Christ to his fellow-countrymen in India. Out of these Zand studies grew his greatest work, published in 1842, namely, "The Parsi Re ligion, as contained in the Zand Avasta and propounded and defended by the Zoroastrians of India and Persia, Unfolded, Refuted, and Contrasted with Christianity"-a work which brought its author the highest honours of most of the learned societies of Europe, including our own Royal Society, and the warmest acknowledgments of the most eminent Orientalists. Many of the Parsees betrayed great irritation at first, irritation which led to violence and legal proceedings when his arguments resulted in the conversion of young Parsees; but eventually they too were so far overcome by his unvarying candour, Two visits only did Dr. Wilson pay to Britain during his long career, the first in 1842, the second in 1870. During the first visit he married for his second wife Miss Isabella Dennistoun, a lady who, till her death in 1867, proved a devoted wife and no less a self-sacrificing missionary than her husband, taking the lead both in the female schools, among the families of the native converts, and in general society. It was at the time of this first visit that the secession took place from the Scotch Kirk, which led to the establishment of the Free Church, and Dr. Wilson was at once compelled to choose between the two parties. Without a moment's hesitation, we are told, he resolved to cast in his lot with the seceders, although it caused him no little pain to sever the ties which bound him to old friends in the Kirk, and involved, in a very important sense, making a fresh start in Bombay. The second visit was occasioned by his election to be Moderator of the Free Church General Assembly, a post whose duties he discharged to the great satisfaction of all who had at heart the interest of Christ's work, whether at home or abroad. Two events which occurred towards the close of Dr. Wilson's life were a source of the highest gratification to him, and an evidence that he had laboured to good purpose. The one was an address presented to him, along with a copy of the Hexapla, by the members of the native Church which he had himself founded, and signed on their behalf by two ministers, one a Parsee, the other a Brahman. The other was, when at a large public meeting, a testimonial was presented to Kursundass Mooljee, "in public recognition of his disinterested efforts to improve. the state of Goojaratee society, and especially of his courageous conduct, truthfulness, and singleness of purpose in the management of the Maharaj libel case," and Dr. Wilson found himself allied with both Hindoos and Zoroastrians in the cause of morality and humanity. By way of further characterizing Dr. Wilson, I cannot do better than here quote a few passages from a letter written by the Rev. Williamson Shoolbred, M.A., who accompanied him on a tour to the northern dis tricts of the Presidency. "We were thrown constantly together for upwards of five months. As Dr. Wilson moved among the élite of the European society of Bombay, or was honoured in the brilliant receptions of native princes, or mingled among the crowds in the native bazaars, or gathered the village peasantry around him that he might tell them of a Saviour in the house and by the way, in bright drawing-rooms and dingy bungalows, in health and disease, I had abundant opportunities of observing and admiring the true Christian gentleman and devoted missionary of the Cross. . . What struck me most in him was the rare blending of deep scholarliness and the utmost buoyancy, almost boyishness of heart. On the literature, philology, and ethnology of India he was a perfect mine of learning, and delighted to pour out his treasures in the most lavish way into the ear of a sympathizing listener. . . I remember his winding up an interesting account of the geology of Elephanta by placing in my hand what, but for its lightness, I should have deemed a specimen of conglomerate rock, and then, after enjoying my puzzled look, laughingly informing me that it was a piece of Scotch plum-cake, as it appeared after the long voyage to India. His devotion to archæological studies was very great. On one occasion, when eager to visit the interior of a famous Hindoo temple, he was almost foiled by the Brahman in charge insisting on his taking off his boots. He surmounted the difficulty, however, by getting the Brahman to carry him through the temple on his back for a consideration, and as he lingered longer than his sacred 'beast of burden' bargained for, and the bearer complained of his increasing weight, he easily coaxed him into setting him down, boots and all, on the holy pavement, and was then allowed unmolested to pursue his archæological inquiries to a close. I must not forget to notice the admirable balance in Dr. Wilson's character, which ever kept him from sinking the missionary in the man of science, or in his omnivorous eagerness in the pursuit of knowledge from forgetting the still higher and nobler work of the Christian missionary-the enlightening and saving of heathen souls." The end came at last-the end of one of the most honoured and useful lives ever spent by Englishmen in India. After his return to Bombay in 1871, chronic breathlessness from weakness of heart set in. Notwithstanding his weakness, he persisted in undertaking a missionary tour, but was taken so ill that he had to be carried back to Bombay, from which time he was entirely confined to his room and chair. In the last letter written with his own hand he said, "In the goodness of my heavenly Father, I think I am a little better; but if you saw my difficulty of breathing you would pity me. Let that pity pass into petitions addressed to the throne of all grace." Ready to die, he yet desired life, that he might finish, as he thought, the Master's work. The day before his end he said to an American missionary, "I have perfect peace, and am content that the Lord should do what seems good to Him." And then he talked of the advance of Christ's kingdom in India, expressing an eager solicitude that during the Prince of Wales's tour among its peoples and nobles nothing might be done that should even seem to countenance false religions, or to depart from the Government's attitude of simple toleration. He had lived for the freedom of truth; rejoicing in Him who alone has guaranteed that freedom, he departed. With the words of his biographer we heartily sympathize:-"While some may regret that the veteran of three-score and ten did not retire to the leisure and the influence to which his native country invited him, surely there was a dramatic completeness, a spiritual unity, in the death which he died in Bombay; -yes, a completeness and unity which we should oftener like to see realised. NA THE STORY OF THE HEAVENS. BY SYDNEY B. J. SKERTCHLY, F.G.S., OF H.M. GEOLOGICAL SURVEY. "The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament showeth His handiwork."-PSALM xix. 1. NO. I. ATURE is one great song—a poem set to music. The story of the earth is one of its stanzas—the opening passage which leads up to the story of the heavens. In these days of early spring-time, when the refreshed earth is waking into new life when buds begin to swell and burst, and shed their hard brown scales and turn their pink-tipped baby leaflets to the sun; when birds begin to sing their love-songs to their newly chosen mates; in the midst of all this growing beauty let us pause awhile to view it with the intellectual, as well as with the physical eye. Above our heads, almost invisible, poises a lark, singing his "profuse strains of unpremeditated art." The tuneful speck is half a mile above us, yet every note and trill falls clear and sweetly on the ear. The little vocal cords within his throat, which constitute his lyre, are scarce a third of an inch in length; yet their vibration fills the air with melody. On every side for half a mile his song is heard, and thus he fills a sphere of air a mile in diameter with music. Music, and indeed all sound, is the effect produced | upon our ears by vibrations or tremors of a certain frequency. Hence every particle of air in the mile-wide sphere is pulsating in unison with the lark's small vocal cords. A cubic foot of air at this time of the year weighs about four hundred grains, and the number of cubic feet which are taking up the song amount to tens of thousands of millions. If we weigh that air the result is even more astounding, for we find our full-throated warbler has set quivering nearly two millions of tons. ticles of air in front of them, which are in consequence similarly driven forward, and in like manner recover themselves by virtue of their elasticity. This process is continued ; each particle driving its neighbour forward, and then returning to its former station. It thus appears that, while every particle of air swings to and fro over a very small space, the pulsation or vibration the pulsation or vibration is carried onwards and outwards in every direction. Finally, the throbbing particles reach our ear, and, impinging upon a beautiful apparatus therein, yield up their motion, which is carried on to the brain, where it produces the sensation of sound. When these pulsations are regular they give rise to a musical note; when they are irregular they produce noise. Noise is the prose, notes are the poetry of sound; music and poetry are rythmic, noise and prose are irregular. Vibrations must be of a certain frequency to produce sound; and they are inaudible, on the other hand, if their rapidity exceeds a certain limit. If the throes are slower than sixteen vibrations per second, or faster than thirty-eight thousand, no sound is produced; the vibrations exist, but our ears are not attuned to them; we are deaf to their influence. The limits of audibility vary with different persons, and many are insensible to the squeak of the bat, the chirrup of the cricket, the humming of the gnat, and even to the twitter of the sparrow. The vastness of this result deserves a little thought, for although we are in the daily habit of speaking of " millions," but few have ever grasped the immensity of the idea. If a person attempted to count two millions, Our study of the lark's song has taught us working twelve hours a day at the rate that, though his little throat can set trembling of sixty per minute, it would take more than huge volumes of air, his notes come to us by a month to complete the task. Or, to use vibrations, and not by the transferrence of another illustration, suppose the quantity of air from him to us. Air, in scientific language, air set vibrating by the lark to be represented is the medium through which the sound-proby tons of coal, to be conveyed by a train inducing waves are propagated. When, theretrucks carrying ten tons each, such a train would reach right across Europe, from the north of Norway to the south of Greece, and back again! How, it may be asked, is this stupendous result brought about by such apparently inadequate means? The answer is a simple one, and gives us the key to the whole of the workings of nature. The air, like all other material to which the name of matter is given, consists of very minute particles, which are elastic. When the vocal cords in the throat of the lark are set vibrating like harp-strings, the particles of air in contact therewith are violently driven forward, and by their elasticity spring back again to their original position. During their forward motion they impinge upon the par fore, we hear a sound we are certain of two things; first, that matter intervenes between us and the source of sound, and secondly, that the matter is in a state of vibration. It is equally clear that vibrations cannot take place without some elastic material being present. This simple deduction brings us to the threshold of some of the deepest mysteries of nature. The sun is so distant from us that an express train would be more than one hundred and seventy years in reaching him yet from him we receive light and heat, and by him we are influenced in many ways. How then do that light and heat stream through space to us? In order to answer this question we must first inquire into the nature of these gifts. Accurate, continued, |