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the left of the island and juts out from the water below, and from it I judged the distance which the water falls to be about one hundred feet. The walls of this gigantic crack are perpendicular and composed of one homogeneous mass of rock. The edge of that side over which the water falls is worn off two or three feet, and pieces have fallen away, so as to give it somewhat of a serrated appearance. That over which the water does not fall is quite straight except at the left corner, where a rent appears and a piece seems inclined to fall off. Upon the whole, it is nearly in the state in which it was left at the period of its formation. The rock is dark brown in color, except about ten feet from the bottom, which is discolored by the annual rise of the water to that or a greater height. On the left side of the island we have a good view of the mass of water which causes one of the columns of vapor to ascend, as it leaps quite clear of the rock and forms a thick unbroken fleece all the way to the bottom. Its whiteness gave the idea of snow -a sight I had not seen for many a day. As it broke into (if I may use the term) pieces of water, all rushing on in the same direction, each gave off several rays of foam, exactly as bits of steel when burnt in oxygen gas give off rays of sparks. The snow-white sheet seemed like myriads of small comets rushing on in one direction, each of which left behind its nucleus rays of foam. I never saw the appearance referred to noticed elsewhere. It seemed to be the effect of the mass of water leaping at once clear of the rock and but slowly breaking up

into spray.

I have mentioned that we saw five columns of vapor ascending from this strange abyss.

They are evidently formed by the compression suffered by the force of the water's own fall into an unyielding wedge-shaped space. Of the five columns, two on the right and one on the left of the island were the largest, and the streams which formed them seemed each to exceed in size the falls of the Clyde at Stonebyres when that river is in flood. This was the period of low water in the Leeambye, but, as far as I could as far as I could guess, there was a flow of five or six hundred yards of water, which at the edge of the fall seemed at least three feet deep. I write in the hope that others more capable of judging distances than myself will visit this scene, and I state simply the impressions made on my mind at the time. I thought, and do still think, the river above the falls to be one thousand yards broad, but I am a poor judge of distances on water, for I showed a naval friend what I supposed to be four hundred yards in the bay of Loanda, and, to my surprise, he pronounced it to be nine hundred. I tried to measure the Leeambye with a strong thread, the only line I had in my possession; but when the men had gone two or three hundred yards, they got into conversation and did not hear us shouting that the line had become entangled. By still going on they broke it, and, being carried away down the stream, it was lost on a snag. In vain I tried to bring to my recollection the way I had been taught to measure a river by taking an angle with the sextant. That I once knew it and that it was easy were all the lost ideas I could recall, and they only increased my vexation. However, I measured the river farther down by another plan, and then I discovered that the Portuguese had measured it at Tete and found it a little over

one thousand yards. At the falls it is as broad as at Tete, if not more so. Whoever may come after me will not, I trust, find reason to say I have indulged in exaggeration.

WORSHIP.

At three spots near these falls-one of them the island in the middle on which we were three Batoka chiefs offered up prayers and sacrifices to the Barimo. They chose their places of prayer within the sound of the roar of the cataract and in sight of the bright bows in the cloud. They must have looked upon the scene with awe. Fear may have induced the selection. The river itself is to them mysterious. The words of the canoe-song are

44

The Leeambye! Nobody knows

Whence it comes and whither it goes."

The play of colors of the double iris on the cloud, seen by them elsewhere only as the rainbow, may have led them to the idea that this was the abode of deity. Some of the Makololo who went with me near to Gonye looked upon the same sign with awe. When seen in the heavens it is named "motsé oa barimo"" the pestle of the gods." Here they could approach the emblem and see it stand steadily above the blustering uproar below-a type of Him who sits supreme, alone unchangeable, though ruling over all changing things. But, not aware of his true character, they had no admiration of the beautiful and good in their bosoms. They did not They did not imitate his benevolence, for they were a bloody imperious crew, and Sebituane performed a noble service, in the expulsion from their fastnesses of these cruel "lords of the isles."

DAVID LIVINGSTONE, LL.D.

WHY OUR BREATH BLOWS BOTH HOT AND COLD.

TH

HERE is almost no man but knows that breath blown strongly, and which comes from the mouth with violence-that is to say, the passage being strait-will cool the hand; and that the same breath blown gently-that is to say, through a greater aperture-will warm the same; the cause of which phenomenon may be this: the breath going out hath two motions-the one, of the whole and direct, by which the foremost parts of the hand are driven. inward; the other, simple motion of the small particles of the same breath, which causeth heat. According, therefore, either of these motions is predominant, so there is the sense sometimes of cold, sometimes of heat. Wherefore, when the breath is softly breathed out at a large passage, that simple motion which causeth heat prevaileth, and consequently heat is felt; and when, by compressing the lips, the breath is more strongly blown out, then is the direct motion prevalent, which makes us feel cold. For the direct motion of the breath or air is wind, and all wind cools or diminisheth former heat.

THOMAS HOBBES.

ON HIS LADY-LOVE'S HOUSE.

as

T
And pay my adoration to the stone,
Whence joy and peace are influenced on me,
For 'tis the temple of my deity.

10 view these walls each night I come
alone,

So to this house, that keeps from me my heart,

I come, look, traverse, weep, and then depart.

PHILIP AYRES.

EXISTENCE.

FROM THE FRENCH OF RENÉ DESCARTES.

[David Hume-by the most accurate and logical reasoning, if his theory be granted-overturns the pillars of the universe. Taking it for granted, according to the theory of philosophers from the days of Plato and Aristotle, that the senses do not immediately perceive material objects, but only images of them in the mind or in the brain, he proved by incontestible reasoning that there is no world. People not acquainted with the history of intellectual extravagance may smile at this and think that it is incredible that such doctrine could make any impression on rational creatures, but this fanatical philosophy had its day and gave satisfaction to men of the most profound talent. The greatest effort that ever sound philosophy made was to recover to us the existence of the world from the powerful grasp of Mr. Hume, supported by the common theory of perception. Descartes overturned the philosophy of Aristotle with regard to the images that were supposed to come from the external object into the mind or brain. That he might lay a deep foundation for his philosophy, he began by doubting everything; even his own existence was not received by him as a first principle. His doubt on this point was at last happily removed by inferring his existence from his thoughts. "I think," says the philosopher, "therefore I exist." Thus by a great effort of philosophy this truly great genius proved what none but a lunatic [should have] ever thought of doubting. This was the only thing he admitted as a self-evident truth, and upon this as upon a rock he raised every part of his system.-A. C.]

PUTTING AWAY PREVIOUSLY. is sovereignly good and the fountain of truth,

[graphic]

CONCEIVED IDEAS TO REACH
JUST CONCLUSIONS.

EVERAL years have now
elapsed since I first be-
came aware that I had ac-
cepted even from my youth
many false opinions for true,
and that consequently what
I afterward based on such
principles was highly doubt

ful; and from that time I
was convinced of the neces-

sity of undertaking once in my life to rid myself of all the opinions I had adopted, and of commencing anew the work of building from the foundation, if I desired to establish a firm and abiding superstructure in the sciences. But, as this enterprise appeared to me to be one of great magnitude, I waited until I had attained an age so mature as to leave me no hope that at any stage of life more advanced I should be better able to execute my design.

but that some malignant demon who is at once exceedingly potent and deceitful, has employed all his artifice to deceive me: I will suppose that the sky, the air, the earth, colors, figures, sounds and all external things are nothing better than the illusions of dreams. by means of which this being has laid snares for my credulity; I will consider myself as without hands, eyes, flesh, blood, or any of the senses, and as falsely believing that I am possessed of these; I will continue resolute

ly fixed in this belief; and if, indeed, by this means it be not in my power to arrive at the knowledge of truth, I shall at least do what is in my power-viz., [suspend my judgment] and guard with settled purpose against giving my assent to what is false and being imposed upon by this deceiver, whatever be his power

and artifice.

I AM I EXIST.

I had the persuasion that there was absolutely nothing in the world, that there was no sky and no earth, neither minds I will suppose, then, not that Deity, who nor bodies; was I not, therefore, at the

same time, persuaded that I did not exist? Far from it; I assuredly existed, since I was persuaded. But there is I know not what being who is possessed at once of the highest power and the deepest cunning, who is constantly employing all his ingenuity in deceiving me. Doubtless, then, I exist, since I am deceived; and, let him deceive me as he may, he can never bring it about that I ain nothing, so long as I shall be conscious that I am something. So that it must, in fine, be maintained, all things being maturely and carefully considered, that this proposition (pronunciatum) I am, I exist, is necessarily true each time it is expressed by me or conceived in my mind. But I do not yet know with sufficient clearness what I am, though assured that I am; and hence in the next place I must take care lest perchance I inconsiderately substitute some other object in room of what is properly myself, and thus wander from truth even in that knowledge (cognition) which I hold to be of all others the most certain and evident. For this reason I will now consider anew what I formerly believed myself to be before I entered on the present train of thought, and of my previous opinion I will retrench all that can in the least be invalidated by the grounds of doubt I have adduced, in order that there may at length remain nothing but what is certain and indubitable. What, then, did I formerly think I was? Undoubtedly I judged that I was a man. But what is a man? Shall I say, A rational animal? Assuredly not; for it would be necessary forthwith to inquire into what is meant by "animal" and what by "rational," and thus from a single question I should insensibly glide into others, and these more difficult than the first. Nor do I now possess enough of leis

ure to warrant me in wasting my time amid subtleties of this sort. I prefer here to attend to the thoughts that sprung up of themselves in my mind, and were inspired by my own nature alone, when I applied myself to the consideration of what I was. In the first place, then, I thought that I possessed a countenance, hands, arms and all the fabric of members that appears in a corpse, and which I called by the name of "body." It further occurred to me that I was nourished, that I walked, perceived and thought, and all those actions I referred to the soul; but what the soul itself was I either did not stay to consider, or, if I did, I imagined that it was something extremely rare and subtile, like wind or flame or ether, spread through my grosser parts. As regarded the body, I did not even doubt of its nature, but thought I distinctly knew it; and if I had wished to describe it according to the notions I then entertained, I should have explained myself in this manner: By body I understand all that can be terminated by a certain figure; that can be comprised in a certain place, and so to fill a certain space as therefrom to exclude every other body; that can be perceived either by touch, sight, hearing, taste or smell; that can be moved in different ways

not, indeed, of itself, but by something foreign to it by which it is touched [and from which it receives the impression]; for the power of self-motion, as likewise that of perceiving and thinking, I held as by no means pertaining to the nature of body. On the contrary, I was somewhat astonished to find such faculties existing in some bodies.

But, [as to myself, what can I now say that I am], since I suppose there exists an

extremely powerful—and, if I may so speak, malignant-being whose whole endeavors are directed toward deceiving me? Can I affirm that I possess any one of all those attributes of which I have lately spoken as belonging to the nature of body? After attentively considering them in my own mind, I find none of them that can properly be said to belong to myself. To recount them were idle and tedious. Let us pass, then, to the attributes of the soul. The first mentioned were the powers of nutrition and walking; but if it be true that I have no body, it is true likewise that I am capable neither of walking nor of being nourished. Perception is another attribute of the soul, but perception too is impossible without the body; besides, I have frequently during sleep believed that I perceived objects which I afterward observed I did not in reality perceive. Thinking is another attribute of the soul, and here I discover what properly belongs to myself. This alone is inseparable from me. I amI exist: this is certain; but how often? As often as I think; for perhaps it would even happen, if I should wholly cease to think, that I should at the same time altogether cease to be. I now admit nothing that is not necessarily true; I am therefore, precisely speaking, only a thinking thing-that is, a mind (mens sive animus), understanding or reason, terms whose signification was before unknown to me. I am, however, a real thing and really existent, but what thing? The answer was, A thinking thing. The question now arises, Am I aught besides? I will stimulate my imagination with a view to discover whether I am not still something more than a thinking being. Now, it is plain I am not the assemblage of members called

the human body; I am not a thin and penetrating air diffused through all these members, or wind or flame or vapor or breath, or any of all the things I can imagine; for I supposed that all these were not, and without changing the supposition I find that I still feel assured of my existence.

But it is true, perhaps, that those very things which I suppose to be non-existent because they are unknown to me are not, in truth, different from myself, whom I know. This is a point I cannot determine, and do not now enter into any dispute regarding it. I can only judge of things that are known to me: I am conscious that I exist, and I who know that I exist inquire into what I am. It is, however, perfectly certain that the knowledge of my existence, thus precisely taken, is not dependent on things the existence of which is as yet unknown to me, and consequently it is not dependent on any of the things I can feign in imagination. Moreover, the phrase itself, "I frame an image (effingo)," reminds me of my error; for I should in truth frame one if I were to imagine myself to be anything, since to imagine is nothing more than to contemplate the figure or image of a corporal thing; but I already know that I exist, and that it is possible at the same time that all those images, and in general all that relates to the nature of body, are merely dreams [or chimeras]. From this I discover that it is not more reasonable to say, I will excite my imagination that I may know more distinctly what I am, than to express myself as follows: I am now awake and perceive something real, but because my perception is not sufficiently clear I will of express purpose go to sleep that my dreams may represent to me the object of my percep

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