VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY.

ENTRANCE TO THE SMALL TEMPLE AT NIMROUD.

Returning to Konyunjik, Mr. Layard renewed his excavations. Soon afterwards, he discovered what he called the "chamber of records," which was filled with tablets. These are of vast importance in a historical point of view; and, when completely translated, they will add immensely to our knowledge of the ancient Assyrians. Hincks and others, who have devoted much attention to the study of the cuneiform character, have employed themselves in the translation with considerable success. In other apartments were discovered bas-reliefs, containing representations of attendants carrying strings of pomegranates and locusts; musicians playing upon harps, tabors, double-pipes, and an instrument like the modern santour of the East, consisting of a number of strings stretched over a hollow case or sounding-board.

In the mean time, excavations carried on in the high mound of Nimroud resulted in the discovery of several temples, ornamented with great beauty and effect. One of them had a gateway formed by two colossal lions, with extended jaws, gathered up lips and nostrils, flowing manes, and ruffs of bristly hair. The heads were vigorous and truthful in design. The limbs conveyed the idea of strength, and the veins and muscles were accurately portrayed. But the front of the animal was narrow and cramped, and unequal in dignity to the side. The sculptor had given five legs to the animal, in order that they might offer a complete front and side view. The height of the lions was about eight feet, and their length thirteen. In front of them were two altars, hollow at the top, and ornamented with gradines resembling the battlements of a castle. The exterior walls appeared to have been adorned with enamelled bricks, many of which still remained. The slabs on the floor of the temple were inscribed with records of the wars and campaigns of the earliest Nimroud king.

SMALL TEMPLE AT NIMROUD.

Another small temple was discovered at the north-west corner of the mound. Four of its chambers were explored, chiefly by means of tunnels carried through the enormous mass of earth and rubbish in which the ruins were buried. The great entrances were to the east. The principal portal was formed by two colossal human-headed lions, sixteen feet and a half high, and fifteen feet long. They were flanked by three small-winged figures, one above the other, and divided by an ornamental cornice, and between them was an inscribed pavement slab of alabaster. In front of each was a square stone, apparently the pedestal of an altar, and the walls on both sides were adorned with enamelled bricks.

Having dispatched another lot of very interesting sculptures to Busrah, Mr. Layard determined to set out for Babylonia. Upon the reputed site of ancient Babylon he designed to carry on extensive excavations, provided his means would permit. The remains of Babylon were found upon the banks of the Euphrates. Towering above all was the great mound of Babel. Beyond, for many an acre, were shapeless heaps of rubbish, the ridges that marked the course of canals and aqueducts. On all sides, fragments of inscribed glass, marble, and pottery were mingled with that peculiar nitrous and blanched soil, which, bred from the remains of ancient habitations, checks vegetation and renders the site of Babylon a hideous waste. Southward of Babel, for the distance of nearly three miles, there is an almost uninterrupted line of mounds, the ruins of vast edifices, the whole being inclosed by earthen ramparts. On the west of the Euphrates is the vast ruin called the Birs Nimroud, which some have conjectured to be the remains of the Temple of Belus, which, according to Herodotus, stood in one of the western divisions of Babylon. According to the united testimony of ancient authors, the city was divided by the Euphrates into two parts. The principal existing ruins are to the east of the river.

The hostility of the Arab tribes prevented Mr. Layard from making excavations at the Birs Nimroud. He visited that famous ruin, and formed an opinion in regard to the shape of the edifice, but made no discoveries worthy of notice. The excavations carried on upon the eastern bank of the river were not attended with very remarkable results. Bricks, inscribed with the name and titles of Nebuchadnezzar, king of the Chaldees, were numerous. Coffins, containing skeletons that fell to pieces on exposure tothe air, were discovered. No relic or ornament seemed to have been buried with the bodies. Glass bottles, glazed earthen vessels, and many other relics of a doubtful period, were found. Digging trenches into the foot of the mound of Babel, Mr. Layard came upon walls and masses of masonry, but failed to trace the plan of an edifice, or discover any remains of sculptured stone or painted plaster. The mound called Kasr was explored, and found to contain some astonishing specimens of masonry, the bricks being deeply inscribed with the name and title of Nebuchadnezzar. But the plan of an edifice could not be ascertained. The only relic of any interest discovered was a fragment of limestone, on which were parts of two figures, undoubtedly those of gods. This showed that the Babylonians portrayed their divinities in the same manner as the Assyrians. In the mound of Amran were found some bowls, on which were inscriptions in a curious character. These were deciphered by Mr. Thomas Ellis, of the British Museum, and ascertained to have been written by Jews. Mr. Layard thinks that there is no reason to doubt that the bowls belonged to the descendants of those Jews who were carried captive by Nebuchadnezzar to Babylon and the surrounding cities. From the same mound were also taken some earthen or terracotta tablets. They resembled those which had been already deposited in the British Museum by Colonel Rawlinson. On one of these is the figure of a man leading a large and powerful dog, which has been identified with a species still existing in Thibet. The Babylonians prized these dogs very highly. One of their satraps is said to have devoted the revenues of four cities to the support of these animals.

TERRACOTTA TABLET FROM BABYLON.

Brick appears to have been the common material for building purposes in Babylon. But such bricks and such bricklaying were never seen elsewhere. All the bricks were enamelled and ornamented with figures of men and animals. They were joined together by the finest cement. The immense edifices erected from such materials were even more astonishing than the pyramids of Egypt or the palaces of Assyria, as these were the results of greater toil and skill.

Leaving Babylon somewhat disappointed, Mr. Layard proceeded to the mounds of Niffer, in the same district. There, however, he had no better success than at Babylon. Masses of masonry, inscribed bricks, and sarcophagi of an unknown date, were all that could be obtained by excavations. Soon afterwards, Mr. Layard returned to the site of Nineveh to superintend the removal of his sculptures, and the work of exploration was relinquished.

It now remains to sum up the results of the discoveries of Layard to chronology and history. The translators of the Assyrian inscriptions have ascertained that the earliest king, of whom they can gain any detailed account, was the builder of the north-west palace at Nimroud, the most ancient edifice hitherto discovered in Assyria. His records, however, with other inscriptions, furnish the names of five, if not seven, of his predecessors, some of whom erected palaces at Nineveh, and originally founded those which were only rebuilt by subsequent monarchs. The translators, after a careful consideration of all the evidence, fix the date of the reign of the earliest king at about 1121 B. C. Colonel Rawlinson calls him the founder of Nineveh; but this is a hasty conclusion. His name is believed to have been Ashurakbal. He carried his arms to the west of Nineveh, across Syria, to the Mediterranean, to the south into Chaldea, and to the north into Asia Minor and Armenia. Of his sons, Divanubar, was also a great conqueror. He waged war, either in person or by his generals, in Syria, Armenia, Babylonia, Chaldæa, Media, and Persia. The kings of Israel and Egypt paid him tribute, so that he was, indeed, a mighty sovereign. Divanubar seems to have had two successors, but even their names are uncertain. The next king of whom there are any actual records appears to have been the predecessor of Pul, or Tiglath-Pileser, who is mentioned in the Scriptures. His name has not yet been deciphered. He was a successful warrior, and carried his arms into Chaldea and the remotest parts of Armenia. The successor of this monarch was Sargon, the builder of the palace of Khorsobad—a king mentioned by the prophet Isaiah. He was a warlike prince, and carried his arms to the islands of the Mediterranean, and into all the neighboring countries. He made 27,280 Israelites captive in Samaria and its dependent districts. Egypt paid him tribute. From the reign of Sargon, we have a complete list of kings to the fall of the empire, or to a period not far distant from that event. He was succeeded by the mighty Sennacherib, whose history is well known. This king ascended the throne about 703 B. C. After spreading the terror of his arms in every direction, he was assassinated, and his son, Essarhaddon, ascended the throne. This king is mentioned in the Scriptures. He built the south-west palace at Nimroud, and an edifice, the ruins of which are now covered by the tomb of Jonah, opposite Mosul. In his inscriptions, he is styled king of Egypt and Ethiopia, and he appears to have been a great warrior. The son of Essarhaddon was named after the builder of the north-west palace at Nimroud. His son was the last king of the second dynasty, and, as Mr. Layard says, may have been that Sardanapalus who was conquered by the combined armies of the Medes and Babylonians under Cyaxares, 606 B. C., and who made a funeral pile of his palace, his wealth, and his wives.

The records of Nineveh do not go back farther than the twelfth century before Christ. From Egyptian monuments, however, distinguished scholars have gleaned the intelligence that a kingdom called Assyria, with a capital called Nineveh, existed as early as the fifteenth century before Christ. The Assyrian empire appears to have been at all times a kind of confederation formed by many tributary states, whose kings were so far independent that they were only bound to furnish troops to the supreme lord in time of war, and to pay him an annual tribute. On the occasion of every change at the capital, these tributary states seem to have striven to throw off the yoke of the Assyrians. The Assyrian armies were made up of many various nations, retaining their own costumes, arms, and modes of warfare. The Jewish tribes can now be proved to have held their dependent position upon the Assyrian king from a very early period—indeed, long before the time inferred from any passage in Scripture.

The religious system of the Assyrians is still uncertain. All we can infer is that this people worshipped one supreme God, as the great national deity under whose immediate protection they lived. He was called Asshur, and Assyria was known as the "country of Asshur." Beneath him were twelve gods of vast power, and there seems to have been about 4,000 inferior divinities. Asshur was always typified by a winged figure in a circle.

Mr. Layard does not think that the extent of Nineveh has been exaggerated. The space within the ruined ramparts does not seem to have been occupied with houses. These ramparts merely surrounded the magnificent palaces and their beautiful grounds. The citizens resided beyond them, having the space within for a refuge in case of invasion. This is the plan of some modern cities in the East. From a careful survey of the whole ground, Mr. Layard believes that Nineveh was a "city of three days' journey round"—say, sixty miles in circumference.

BY HARLAND COULTAS.

PROCESS OFFERTILIZATION.—The young seeds or ovules are contained in the interior of the pistil before the flower opens, and continue to grow until that time, but no longer, unless they are acted upon by the pollen of the anthers. The necessity of this process shows why it is that stamens and pistils are so constantly found in flowers, and why the former surround the latter so nicely as they in general do; and, even in circumstances which seem somewhat adverse to fertilization, still some admirable contrivance is always found to bring about the same end.

In some flowers, we meet with beautiful contrivances for securing the fecundation of their pistils. Thus, such as are erect have usually the stamens longer than the pistils, whilst in pendulous flowers it will be found that the pistils are the longest and the stamens the shortest. By this admirable relative adjustment, the pollen, in falling, comes into contact with the pistil. The Fuchsia, or ladies' ear-drop (Fig. 1), shows the character of this arrangement in a pendulous flower:pis the pistil, andsthe stamens, which, it will be perceived, are much shorter, and situated above the pistil, in order that its viscid stigma or summit may receive the pollen as it falls out of the anther cells.

Fig. 1.

There are a few well-known instances in which fertilization is effected by certain special movements of the stamens. The stamens of the barberry spring to the pistil, if the lower part of their filaments is touched; and in Parnassia palustris, the grass of Parnassus, a rare and beautiful snow-white swamp flower, the stamens move towards the pistil in succession to discharge their polliniferous contents.

The flowers of the Kalmia latifolia, or mountain kalmia, a native evergreen, very abundant on the side of barren hills and the rocky margins of rivulets, are especially deserving of attention. The corollas of the kalmia are rotate or wheel-shaped, and have ten stamens, the anthers of which, before the flowers expand, are contained in ten little cavities or depressions in the side of each corolla, where they are secured by a viscid secretion. When the corollas open, the filaments of the stamens are bent back by this confinement of their anthers like so many springs, in which condition they remain until the pollen in the anther cells becomes ripe and absorbs the secretion. The anthers, becoming suddenly liberated by this means from their cavities, fly up with such force as to eject their pollen on the pistil. The slightest touch with the point of a needle, or the feet of an insect crawling over their filaments, is sufficient to produce the same effects when the pollen is mature. Fig. 2 shows, ata, the fully expanded flower with the confined anthers; atb, the flower after the anthers have discharged their pollen.

Fig. 2.

When the stamens and pistils are together in the same flower, it is designated as hermaphrodite, and complete; but, if the flower contains only one of these organs, it is termed unisexual, and, in this case, it is either male or female, according as it is composed uniquely of stamens, or male sexual organs, or of pistils, or female sexual organs. This separation of the sexual organs in flowers is of very frequent occurrence. The greater portion of our forest trees, andmany herbaceous plants and shrubs, have unisexual flowers.

Sometimes the stamens and pistils are situated in separate flowers on the same plant. When this is the case, the staminate flowers are generally situated above the pistillate. The Indian corn exemplifies this arrangement. It is well known that the flowering panicle at the summit of the stem does not produce corn; these are the staminiferous flowers from whose anthers descend clouds of pollen on the threadlike pistils forming the silky tuft beneath. Without this pollen, the corn in the lower spike would not ripen; hence the evident design of nature in placing the pistillate below the staminate spike of flowers.

In forest trees, these unisexual flowers are usually borne on separate individuals of the same species, or the flowers on one tree are wholly staminate, and those on the other altogether pistillate. It must be obvious that such plants are still more unfavorably situated for fertilization. The great abundance of pollen produced compensates for the unfavorable situation of the flowers. The wind drives it far and near, and the air becomes sometimes so charged with it that rain, in falling, brings it down to the ground in considerable quantities, producing the so called sulphur showers of which we read in history. There is no doubt, also, that the bee and other insects in search of honey convey the pollen from the stamens to the pistils in unisexual plants.

BY D. W. BELISLE.

ARGO NAVIS.—This beautiful constellation occupies a large space in the southern hemisphere, though few of its stars are seen in our latitude. It is situated south-east of Canis Major, and may be known by three stars forming a small triangle in the prow and deck of the ship. Sixteen degrees south of this triangle is a very brilliant star in the row-lock, called Naos. This star is the south-east corner of the Egyptian X, and comes to the meridian on the 3d of March, when, for a few hours only, it is visible in our latitude. It is then eight degrees above the horizon. Seven degrees south of Naos, on the 7th of March, may be seen Gamma, a brilliant star which, for a few moments, skims the horizon, and then disappears. It is never in our latitude more than one degree above the horizon, and is rarely visible. Thirty-six degrees south of Sirius is Canopus, a star of great brilliancy and beauty. It is of the first magnitude; but, having a south declination of fifty-three degrees, it cannot be seen in the United States. Twenty-five degrees east of Canopus is Miaplacidus, a star of the first magnitude in the oars of the ship. This is also invisible to us. This constellation contains sixty-four stars, which, seen from the southern hemisphere, are of singular beauty and brilliancy.

"There they stand,Shining in order, like a living hymnWritten in light."

"There they stand,

Shining in order, like a living hymn

Written in light."

According to Greek mythology, the ship was placed in the heavens to perpetuate the expedition of Jason into Colchis to recover the Golden Fleece. Hebrew mythology also claims the origin of it, and with them it perpetuates Noah's Ark, in which a remnant of every living thing was saved during the deluge. There is good foundation for the supposition that the Argonautic expedition is founded on certain Egyptian traditions relating to Noah's Ark, and that the Greeks located them within their territory, and claimed them as a triumph of Neptune, the god of the sea.

CANCER.—This constellation is situated directly east of the Twins, and occupies considerable space in the heavens. Its stars are small and scattered, yet it may readily be distinguished by three small stars in the centre, which form a triangle, and nearly in the centre of this triangle is a nebula, sufficiently luminous to be distinguished with the naked eye. The appearance of this nebula to the unassisted eye is not unlike the nucleus of a comet, and it was repeatedly mistaken for the comet of 1832, which passed in its neighborhood. On being viewed through a telescope, it resolves into distinct stars, and we thus catch a glimpse of an interminable range of systems upon systems, and firmaments upon firmaments; and, in contemplating the immensity of space that encircles them, the imagination becomes bewildered and lost. Who can trace the boundless depths of air?

Beyond the reach of telescope,Whose powers o'erstep the spaceThat lies where eye may never hopeTo pierce, or e'en to traceThe bounds of worlds which it revealsIn those illimitable fields?

Beyond the reach of telescope,

Whose powers o'erstep the space

That lies where eye may never hope

To pierce, or e'en to trace

The bounds of worlds which it reveals

In those illimitable fields?

These minute stars have the appearance of planets with oval disks, somewhat mottled, but approaching in vividness to actual planets. This constellation is on the meridian the 3d of March.

The Greeks assert that Cancer received its origin through the favor of Juno, who sent a sea-crab to annoy Hercules during his famous contest with the Lernean monster. The Chaldeans, however, represented the cluster by the figure of an ass, whose name, in the Chaldaic, ismuddiness. It is supposed to allude to the discoloring of the Nile, which began to rise when the sun was entering Cancer.

VIA LACTEA.—

"A way there is in heaven's extended plain,Which, when the sky is clear, is seen below,And mortals, by the name of Milky, know;The groundwork is of stars, through which the roadLies open to the Thunderer's abode."

"A way there is in heaven's extended plain,

Which, when the sky is clear, is seen below,

And mortals, by the name of Milky, know;

The groundwork is of stars, through which the road

Lies open to the Thunderer's abode."

There is a luminous zone, varying from four to twenty degrees in width, which passes quite round the heavens, called by the Greeks Galaxy, by the Latins Via Lactea, which, in our tongue, isMilky Way. "Of all the constellations which the heavens exhibit to our view, this fills the mind with the most indescribable grandeur and amazement. When we consider what unnumbered millions of mighty suns compose this cluster, whose distance is so vast that the strongest telescope can hardly separate their mingled twilight into distinct specks, and that the most contiguous of any two of them may be as far asunder as our sun is from them, we fall as far short of adequate language to express our ideas of such immensity as we do of instruments to measure its boundaries."

"Throughout the Galaxy's extended line,Unnumbered orbs in gay confusion shine;Where every star that gilds the gloom of nightWith the faint tremblings of a distant light,Perhaps illumes some system of its ownWith the strange influence of a radiant sun."

"Throughout the Galaxy's extended line,

Unnumbered orbs in gay confusion shine;

Where every star that gilds the gloom of night

With the faint tremblings of a distant light,

Perhaps illumes some system of its own

With the strange influence of a radiant sun."

All the stars in the universe have been arranged into groups, which are called nebulæ or starry systems. The fixed star which we callour sunbelongs to that extensive nebula the Milky Way, and, though evidently of such immeasurable distance from its fellows, it is probably no farther from them than they are from each other. We know very little of the number and economy of the stars that compose this group. Herschel counted five hundred and eighty-eight in a single spot, without moving his telescope. He found the stars unequally dispersed in all parts of the constellation, and apparently arranged into separate systems or clusters. In a small space in Cygni, the stars seem to be clustered into two distinct divisions, and in each division he counted upwards of one hundred and sixty-five thousand stars.

Various changes are constantly taking place among the nebulæ. Several new ones are being formed by the dissolution of larger ones, and it has been ascertained beyond a doubt that many nebulæ of this kind are detaching themselves from the Milky Way at the present time. In the body of Scorpio there is a large opening, four degrees broad, entirely destitute of stars, through which we get a glimpse of regions of space beyond.

"Oh, what a confluence of ethereal fires,From urns unnumbered down the steeps of heaven,Streams to a point, and centres on my sight!"

"Oh, what a confluence of ethereal fires,

From urns unnumbered down the steeps of heaven,

Streams to a point, and centres on my sight!"

Already nearly three thousand nebulæ have been observed, and if each contains as many stars as the Milky Way in that portion of the heavens which lies open to our observation, there must be several hundred millions of stars. How vast and unfathomable to mortal mind must be the ways and attributes of that intelligence that creates and guides in unison these starry worlds!

"The hand of GodHas written legibly, that man may knowThe glory of his Maker."

"The hand of God

Has written legibly, that man may know

The glory of his Maker."

This nebula may be traced in the heaven, beginning at the polar star, through the constellations Cassiopeia, Perseus, Auriga, part of Orion, and the feet of Gemini, where it crosses the Zodiac, thence over the equinoctial into the southern hemisphere, through Monoceros and Argo Navis, St. Charles's Oak, the Cross, the Altar, and the feet of the Centaur. Here it passes over the Zodiac into the northern hemisphere, divides itself, one branch running through the tail of Scorpio, the bow of Sagittarius, the shield of Sobieski, the feet of Antonius, Aquila Delphinus, the Arrow, and the Swan. The other branch passes through the upper part of the tail of Scorpio, the side of Serpentarius, Taurus Poniatowski, Goose, neck of the Swan, head of Cepheus to the polar star, where it again unites to the place of its beginning.

Anciently, the Milky Way was supposed to be the sun's track, and its luminous appearance was caused by the scattered beams left visible in the heavens. The Pagans maintained it was a path their deities used in the heavens, which led directly to the throne of Jupiter.

"HeavenIs the book of God before thee set,Wherein to read his wondrous works."

"Heaven

Is the book of God before thee set,

Wherein to read his wondrous works."

BY PAULINE FORSYTH.

Westbridge is a small town, so near one of the largest cities in our Union that it can keep pace with all the vagaries and wild chimeras with which the fantastic spirit of the age seems to delight to bewilder and mislead its votaries, as well as learn the latest news or display the latest fashions. And yet it is far enough from New York to have a character and mode of living entirely its own. That character is the severe, and the mode of life rigid and exemplary. All kinds of amusements are looked upon with a disapproving eye, and many of them have been so completely extirpated that they are hardly ever alluded to. Dancing alone has contrived to maintain a precarious foothold in the community, sometimes shrinking down into the modest cotillion, and again, when the ranks of its votaries are recruited from some less scrupulous portion of the country, bursting forth in the full horror of waltz, polka, or schottisch. Its reign is, however, short, and the social gatherings soon regain their usual character for staid propriety.

When you go to a party at Westbridge, to be invited to which is a sort of a testimonial that you are a discreet and proper person, you are expected to take a seat and remain seated. To move about much argues a lightness of mind, and will cause talk. Of course, the conversation will have to be principally carried on with your neighbor, whoever he or she may happen to be; and three hours' uninterrupted conversation with a shy youth or a heavy old bachelor is a mental effort of which let those speak who have tried it. I have generally taken refuge in silence, after having made the observations that are usually considered proper on such occasions.

If you are a lady, books as a subject of conversation are interdicted; for, St. Paul being our great oracle, puddings, and not literature, are considered as the proper objects on which the female mind may exercise itself; and, though the state of public feeling in Westbridge allows a critical supervision over the conduct of the members of its society, yet gossip in its broader sense is interdicted.

Thus deprived of the aliment that sustains it in so many places, the social feeling languished, and sometimes seemed almost extinct. Yet, in reality, it retained a vigorous vitality, and only needed an opportunity to show how strong and deep it had struck its roots in our common nature, so that neither circumstances nor education could utterly destroy it. The mania for moving tables in the peculiar way that came in with the spirit-rappings was just such an occasion as the people in Westbridge would allow themselves to seize upon, as a legitimate means for gratifying the love for novelty and excitement that is inherent in mankind.

They excused, or, I should say, accounted for their ardor in the cause—for to excuse their course of conduct is below a true Westbridgeite—by speaking calmly and wisely of moving tables in that mysterious way as a new fact in science yet unaccounted for, and all their efforts were to be considered as so many scientific experiments to discover whether electricity, or some hitherto unknown physical influence, were the agent. For a time in Westbridge, we all, young and old, became natural philosophers, and pursued our investigations with a most exemplary zeal.

In a state of benighted ignorance on the subject of table-moving, never having heard of it even, I made my entrance into the sewing society, held weekly at Westbridge. As soon as I entered, I became aware that some exciting topic was under discussion. That being our only weekly gathering during the winter, in the calmest times the tongue ran an even race with the needle; but on this particular afternoon the sewing seemed to be forgotten. Work in hand, I seated myself near a lady to whom a large circle were listening in open-eyed wonder.

"At my cousin's in New York," she was saying, with animated emphasis, "they moved a heavy table, with a marble top, up stairs."

"Well, I suppose that is often done," said I, as yet uninitiated into the mystery.

"Yes; but with their hands—that is, without their hands. I mean just by putting their hands on the top of it, without using any force at all."

"I know a gentleman in the city who can, after keeping his hands on the table for a little while, take them off, and it will follow him all about the room," said another lady.

"My cousin told me," said a young girl, so absorbed in listening that her work had fallen on the floor, "that he had heard of tables being made to spring up to the ceiling—heavy tables."

"Can such things be, and not o'ercome us with a special wonder?" thought I; and I asked, rather skeptically, "Have you ever seen any of these wonderful things?"

"Oh, yes!" said several at once, and one of the speakers continued—

"We have been trying experiments at Colonel Dutton's, and Mr. Johnson's, and at our house, and we find that we can make the tables move about the room as long as we keep our hands on them. We have not yet succeeded in making them follow us or spring up from the floor; but I have no doubt we shall. Our power seems to increase every day."

"What kind of power is it?"

"Some persons think it a new development of electricity. I think myself it is some mysterious physical agent residing in our bodies—a kind of magnetism that works all these wonders. That is also Dr. Whitman's opinion."

"How do you try your experiments?" asked I, rather more inclined to believe in it, since I had heard those scientific terms and Dr. Whitman's name.

"We sit round a table, and lay our hands upon it so as to cover as large a surface as possible; the thumbs must touch, and the little fingers of each hand be in contact with the little fingers of the one on either side, so as to form a complete circle. You must not allow any other part of your person or dress to touch the table, or the communication will be interrupted; and it is better not to talk or laugh, but to be perfectly quiet and intent on your object."

Thus fully instructed, I went home bent on experimenting. Who could tell but that I should go to my room at night followed by all the furniture in the drawing-room in a slow procession? Though thus extravagant in my hopes, I showed a proper humility in my first attempts, selecting a very small tea-poy as the object of my experiment. I obtained an assistant, a lady, who, at first, when seated opposite to me with her hands outspread on the table before her, having nothing else to do, was very much inclined to converse, but, at my earnest entreaty, she relapsed into silence; and thus we sat for two weary hours. I had been told that my fingers would tingle, and they did tingle, and that was the sole result of this patient waiting. Tired out at last, we came to the conclusion either that, in our ignorance, we had neglected something essential to the success of the attempt, or that we were entirely deficient in that mysterious physical agent, of which some other persons seemed to possess such a super-abundance.

After having been pursued all night by tables, from which my utmost efforts hardly enabled me to escape, I arose with a nightmare-feeling of oppression upon me, for which a walk in the bracing air of a cold bright day in February seemed the best remedy.

"I will run over directly after breakfast to Mrs. Atwood's, to get the receipt for that new pudding, which she promised me, and then return and devote the rest of the morning to making calls," thought I.

And, accordingly, a little after nine, I put my head into Mrs. Atwood's sitting-room.

"I won't come in, thank you, this morning," said I, in answer to her invitation. "I cannot stay a minute. I merely came to ask for the receipt for that apple and tapioca pudding. Henrietta isn't as well as usual to-day, and I thought she might like it. Oh, you are trying to move a table! Don't let me disturb you, then. How do you succeed?"

"Not very well this morning," said Mrs. Atwood; "but last night we were very successful. It was our first attempt, too. Jane brought home such wonderful accounts from the sewing society, that we could not rest until we had made a trial of our powers. I think this morning we need a little more assistance, as some of the children have gone to school. I wish you would stay a little while and help us."

"I should be very happy to do so," said I, yielding to her solicitations and my own curiosity, and coming forward; "but I am afraid I should be a hindrance rather than an assistance." And I related my failure of the preceding evening.

I found Mrs. Atwood, her two eldest daughters, and one of her boys sitting anxiously, with outspread hands, round a very small table. A more miserable, distressed-looking child than the little white-headed Charles Atwood I do not think I have ever seen.

"I made Charley come in from his play to help us," said Mrs. Atwood, "because Jane was told that light-haired people possess more of that peculiar electric power, or whatever it is, than any other. Charley is the only member of our family who has light hair. Sit still, my son," she added, as Charley gave the table a little nervous kick.

There was a long silence, broken only once when Charley looked up, with his face full of some deep purpose, and inquired the very lowest price for which wigs could be bought. The question being considered irrelevant, the only answer the poor child received was a shake of the head and a frown from his mother. Apeculiar whistle, the familiar signal of one of his favorite companions, threw Charley into such a state of painful suffering that, in commiseration for him, I consented to take his place. He bounded off in an ecstasy of joy, and I took no more note of time till we heard the clock strike eleven. In the mean time, the table had quivered twice, and once moved about an inch. With a sort of Jonah-like feeling, I arose, saying—

"It is useless for me to try longer; I am convinced that I rather retard the movements of the table than assist you." And, bidding her good-morning, I turned my steps homeward.

As I passed the house of one of my acquaintances, my attention was arrested by a tap on the window—a phenomenon that never happened in Westbridge before within my recollection. I obeyed the summons, and found the whole family assembled, gazing in gleeful wonder at the clumsy antics a table was playing under the guidance of three of its members. One of these was a light-haired boy of about thirteen. There was a sober mischief lurking in his face that awoke a slight suspicion in my mind.

"Are you sure that Robert is not using a little muscular force?" asked I.

"Bob? Oh no; he wouldn't do such a thing. He knows how anxious we are to discover the truth that lies at the bottom of these strange developments. And look how lightly his hands rest on the table—the fingers hardly touch it. But Bob has a great deal of electricity about him."

He looked as though he had.

"And I have observed," continued Mrs. Dutton, "that boys and very young men are more successful than any others in moving tables."

If that had not been announced to me as a scientific fact, I should have regarded it as a suspicious circumstance. But manner has a great effect, and Mrs. Dutton's grand emphatic way impressed me so strongly that I listened with the unquestioning reliance of an ignorant, but trusting disciple.

I watched the table as it went reeling and pitching, in a blind and purposeless sort of way, about the room, closely attended by the three who had set it in motion.

"Now take your hands off, and perhaps it will follow you," said I.

That was an unfortunate request of mine, for, with the lifting of the hands, all movement in the table ceased. Bob took the opportunity thus afforded him, and made his escape from the room. We spent a long time in trying to "charge the table," as we called it in our wisdom, again, but were unsuccessful. I was astonished in the midst of our attempts, and just as the table began to make its usual quiver preparatory to a start, to hear the clock strike three. I hastened home to dinner without the receipt, and with the pudding and the calls still unmade, but with my mind so full of perplexed wonder at what I had seen and heard, that I hardly gave a thought to my omissions.

We were discussing the matter in a family circle in the evening, and I presume most of the other households in Westbridge were engaged in the same way, when two young ladies were shown into the parlor.

"We have come to borrow one of your tables—your very smallest, Mrs. Forsyth; and, Pauline, we want you to come back with us. You know how these experiments are tried, I believe. Mrs. Dutton says you were in there this morning, and saw how they did it. We have been trying in vain for the last hour, and at last I came to the conclusion that our tables were all too large, and I told mamma I was sure you would lend us one, and come and see if we omitted anything essential."

"Certainly," said I, "I will do all I can—that is very little. I have not succeeded yet in any attempt I have made. How shall we get the table carried round? Our servants are unfortunately out or engaged."

"Oh, we can carry it ourselves," said Miss Preston, an enthusiast, whom no trifling obstacles daunted; and we passed through the quiet streets of Westbridge carrying the table between us, and amusing ourselves with the curious surprise of the few pedestrians we met, as the full moonlight fell on us and our burden.

At Mrs. Preston's I was successful for the first time. The table quivered, then rocked, then tilted, and at last moved a little this way and that—not much, but just enough to lift from my mind the oppressive feeling of my own inability to do that of which all the men, women, and children in Westbridge seemed to be capable.

When I returned in the evening, I was told that another one of our set of small tea-poys had been borrowed by another neighbor; and for the succeeding fortnight there was little heard or thought of in Westbridge but moving tables. We ran into each other's houses unceremoniously in the evening, and met in little social groups, and our town began to wear another aspect.

But the heresy of involuntary muscular action had arisen in some way. The person who first broached the opinion, abashed perhaps by the indignant disapprobation with which it was received, had shrunk back into silence, but hisopinion remained and was gaining ground. The parties began to run high. The people in Westbridge who had performed such wonders with their electric or magnetic force felt called upon to stand their ground and give some convincing proof that they had not all this time been duping themselves.

Those who had lately been devoting themselves to scientific experiments were invited to asoiréeat Mrs. Dutton's. A few disbelievers in the science were also asked, that the examination might be carried on fairly and openly.

On entering the drawing-room at Mrs. Dutton's, I found the company already assembled. I saw all the familiar faces I had met so often lately around, not the festive, but the scientific board, and mingled with them were few not so often seen of late. Seated in the place of honor, on the luxurious sofa, were two stout and stately dowagers, guarding between them their niece, Edith Floyd, a lovely, blooming little beauty of sixteen, with brown eyes and fair hair falling in soft curls on either side of her face. Nearly opposite to her, and leaning against a door, stood Reginald Archer, a young Virginian, at that time a student at the college in Westbridge.

It was a rare event to meet a college student in the society of the place, for so many of them had acted the part of the false young knight "who loves and who rides away," that they had been for some time laboring under a kind of polite ostracism. But Mr. Archer had connections in the town, which fact accounted for his exception from the social banishment to which his companions were doomed. The first sight of Edith Floyd had so captivated him, that ever since he had been trying, but trying in vain, to obtain an introduction to her. She was so carefully watched and secluded by her two guardians, that this was the first evening that Mr. Archer had found himself in the same room with her. Even then he did not feel equal to encountering her imposingly dignified aunts, and stood waiting for a more favorable opportunity of forming her acquaintance.

Moving about from one group to another, talking in an excited, earnest way, was Mr. Harrison, the only man in all Westbridge who had expressed an utter disbelief in the whole movement from the first to the last. Even the idea of involuntary or unconscious muscular action was scouted at by him. There had not been a table moved in the town, he said, which had not been done by some person who was perfectly conscious of what he or she was doing. He would not reason nor listen to reason on the subject. It was too purely absurd, he said, for argument. He never entered a room where it was going on without being thrown out of all patience, and yet he haunted the tables and the groups around them, as if he found some strange fascination about them, talking, jesting, and inveighing at our ridiculous credulity, and doing his utmost to stem the tide that was so strong against him. But it was all to no purpose. Mrs. Dutton said, in her oracular way, that "Mr. Harrison had no faith, and faith was the key to knowledge."

Though thus summarily disposed of, he fought on still, not a whit discouraged by his want of success or the little credit he gained for himself.

After selecting with care a suitable table, those of the company who chose to be the experimenters placed themselves around it, and the number and variety of the fingers that were spread on that little surface was quite wonderful to behold. Under such experienced hands, the table performed its part to admiration. Its mode of progression was awkward and angular, to be sure; but what could be expected from the first attempt of a candlestand? It began at last to turn with such rapidity that it was followed with difficulty, and the laughing, confusion, and bustle occasioned by the endeavor to keep pace with its irregular movements created a merry turmoil seldom seen in a decorous assembly in Westbridge. Suddenly, the table made an unexpected tilt nearly to the floor, thus releasing itself from most of the hands laid upon it. The rest, satisfied with the result of the experiment, withdrew their fingers and went to receive the congratulations of the company.

Mrs. Dutton, in a state of high excitement, turned to Mr. Harrison and asked his opinion.

"You have humbugged each other most successfully," said he, too intolerant of the affair to be very choice in his expressions.

Mr. Archer, to whom the whole proceedings were new and strange, and who had had his attention about equally divided between the table and Edith Floyd, said, in a low voice, to Mr. Harrison—

"If I were to find myself seated with hands outspread at a table, waiting for it to move, I should certainly think that my head was a little touched."

"You are the only sensible person in Westbridge—besides myself," said Mr. Harrison, warmly.

Meantime, Ellwood Floyd, Edith's brother, desirous to repeat the experiment, had seated himself at the table, and was endeavoring to obtain assistants. But, satisfied and tired, most of the company were more inclined to talk.

"Come, Edith," said he, impatiently.

She looked beseechingly at her aunts, who, with some reluctance, gave their consent. They evidently regarded her as some precious jewel, which they were afraid to trust for one moment out of their care, for fear they should be rifled of it.

With blushing eagerness, Edith hastened to her brother's side, and two little hands, white and soft as snow-flakes, fell softly on the table. Instantly, two other hands, whose aristocratic beauty of form Lord Byron might have envied, although their color was somewhat of the brownest, were placed beside them.

"Introduce me, if you please," asked Mr. Archer, in a whisper, of a cousin of his, a lady who was standing near; and, the ceremony being performed, Mr. Archer felt inclined to bless the credulity which had thus enabled him to accomplish what had been for many months the desire of his heart.

Mr. Harrison looked on in astonishment.

"Is it possible!" he exclaimed.

"I begin to think there is something in it," said Mr. Archer.

"Is your brain turned too?"

"Perhaps it is a little," said Mr. Archer, with a half smile, while a flush stole over his face. He would not on any account have Mr. Harrison, the greatest tease in Westbridge, suspect the true reason for his sudden change.

All farther attempts at conversation were strictly forbidden by Mr. Floyd, who took upon himself the direction of the experiment. Three other ladies had joined, but he still looked about for more recruits.

"Come, Mr. Lamb," asked he of a large, mild-looking man, who had gathered himself up in a corner, as if he were laboring under a constant apprehension that he took up too much room in the world, "you will help us, I know."

Mr. Lamb begged to be excused, and the effort of speaking before so many brought a faint pink tinge to his face.

"Have you no faith either?" asked Mr. Harrison.

"You would not ask that, if you had seen him as I did yesterday," said Mr. Floyd, "sitting with outstretched hands over a large dining-table. He told me, when I went in, that he had been there all the afternoon, and had not yet produced the slightest effect."

Mr. Lamb's face was by this time a deep crimson, and, feeling it useless to attempt to withdraw any longer from observation, he advanced to the table and placed upon it a pair of hands so large, soft, and yielding that, when they at last stopped spreading, seemed to cover two-thirds of the table.

"Ah, that is something like!" said Mr. Floyd, highly satisfied with his new recruit.

But yet the table did not move as soon as before. Several times I fancied I observed a preparatory quiver in it, and the exclamations of those around it showed that they also were in expectation of some decided result; but we were as often disappointed. Looking closely, I thought that Mr. Archer's hands rested more heavily on the table than was expedient. I suggested this to him, and he thanked me politely, and showed such an evident desire to do nothing out of rule that he quite won my approval.

"My fingers are tingling," said one of the ladies.

"So are mine," said Mr. Archer.

But nothing came of it. After a long waiting, Edith Floyd burst out with, "I am so tired!" in a low, sighing whisper.

Instantly, the table began to move, very slowly and cautiously at first. But soon it increased its velocity, until the excited group around it could hardly keep pace with it. It whirled from one end of the drawing-room to the other with a rapidity never before seen in Westbridge.

"Not so bad a substitute for the waltz," said Mr. Harrison, as he watched the movers running, laughing, and exclaiming, mingled in apparently inextricable confusion. "I would not object to take a turn myself."

That was an unfortunate speech. One by one the movers withdrew their hands, until at last Mr. Lamb was left alone standing by the table in the middle of the room. In great confusion, he retired, and very soon the company dispersed.

That was the climax of the table-moving mania in Westbridge. What might have happened, if we had gone on, cannot be conjectured. We might all have been hearing mysterious rappings, and conversing with those most earthy spirits, whose utter barrenness and poverty of intellect have not hindered them from misleading some of our thoughtful and earnest minds.

The very day after Mrs. Dutton'ssoirée, Professor Faraday's exposition of the whole jugglery came out, and even the "Westbridge Chronicle" had the barbarity to publish it, "for the benefit," it said, "of some of its readers," when everybody in Westbridge knew that the editor had piqued himself on the possession of more electricity than any one else in town. The subject of table-moving is now a forbidden one in Westbridge. I have not heard an allusion to it for the last six month.

Yet, I fancy, it has produced some results; for Edith's two aunts, who were wont to delight in the most severe strictures on the young men of the present day, now make, in their sweeping assertions, a marked exception in favor of Mr. Reginald Archer.

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