behind with some food for the bird-catcher, and his two companions, we prepared to descend, and started at nine A. M. to retrace the path by which we had come. Gratified though one may be at witnessing the wonderful woks of God, such a pricalen as the summit of this mountain presents, still it is with thankfulness that we again approach a climate more congenial to our natures, and welcome the habitations of our fellow men, where we are refreshed with the scent of vegetation, and soothed by the melody of birds. When about three miles below the camp, my three companions of yesterday appeared like mawkins on the craggy lava, just at the very spot where I had come down. A signal was made them to proceed to the camp, which was seen and obeyed, and we proceeded onwards, collecting a good many plants by the way. Arriving at Strawberry Well, we made a short halt to dine, and ascertained the barometer to be 25° 750′; air 57°; and the well 51°; dew 56°. There were vapouring light clouds in the sky and a S. W. wind. We arrived at Kapupala at 4 P.M. The three other men came up at seven, much fatigued, like myself. Barometer at Kapupala at 8 P. M. 27° 936', air 57° and the sky clear."

Thus was described for the first time Mouna Roa, within whose summit and flanks is contained one of the outlets of earth's interior fires, an opening to that awful laboratory, of whose operations we may have a slight glimpse, standing fearfully at a distance, while our comprehension quails at the attempt to investigate their causes or origin. In the crater of Mouna Roa, are the deep caverns, the profound unfathomable abysses, the ceaseless flow of fiery molten matter, which sometimes glides like a rapid stream into these abysses, till it is lost to the view, and in other places surges and boils up into swelling lofty jets, as if impatient of being pent in by those walls of lava, scoriæ, and ashes, which itself in its own former fury had formed. How vastly deep, expanded, and powerful must be the interior movement that produces all this! Well has it been surmised that the dreadful earthquake originates in the same agency. Were the plastic fluid masses of the active volcano solidified, and crusted over, we should then have the hollow rumbling and onward wave of the earthquake, overturning men's habitations like anthills, and no exit being permitted, the solid granite would be upheaved, and the foundations of the mountains laid.

Mr. Douglas continued on these Islands botanizing, and was at

Woahoo in May, from which place he communicated with his friends in England; having returned to Hawaii, he was again out on the south side of Mouna Roa, on the 12th July, 1834, on the road to Hido. Here he was cautioned to avoid the pits, dug purposely by the natives, for the taking of wild cattle. Notwithstanding this friendly warning, it appears he was not sufficiently on his guard. Some islanders, on the same day, in pursuit of cattle, perceived one of these pits broken, and on looking in, saw Mr. Douglas' body at the bottom, with a bullock standing over it. Assistance being soon had, the animal was shot, and the illfated and amiable naturalist taken out without a sign of life. He had been miserably bruised and gored to death. There had been three pits at this spot, close to some water, two upon the line of the path, and another to one side. On examination, it appeared as if the unfortunate traveller had looked at the two on the road, in one of which was a cow; that he had afterwards proceeded about thirty paces, and then leaving his bundle and little dog, had turned back to the third pit, in which there happened to be another animal. He must have approached this too incautiously, and either by the earth giving way, or by a false step have fallen in, and came into the power of the enraged beast. Amid those scenes which he loved so well, but far from human help, so perished one devoted to science, and who in a few years, and with slender means had accomplished much in her cause. He had been successful to a high degree in gratifying the lovers of botany by his discoveries, and in adding to the pleasures of those tender hearts who delight in the floral riches of the garden. His contributions had been not so much of a kind to increase largely the number of hot house plants, but rather of those that with a little early warmth and protection, will flourish out of doors in a temperate climate. On this account, therefore, he may be considered to have contributed more abundantly to the amount of amusement and to the benefits of social life. He added to the enjoyment of all those who can afford to have a patch of soil, however small, around their humble dwellings. In this manner has been encouraged the pursuit of a gentle art, the study of which softens the heart and improves the mind, or in the beautiful words of the poet, "Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros."

The remains of the deceased were conveyed to Woahoo, on the 3rd August, examined by a medical gentleman, and next day

consigned to the narrow house, the grave, in the presence of Richard Charlton, Esq., British Consul, Captain Seymour, and officers of the Challenger, and all the foreign residents at the place. Lament may be allowed for David Douglas. Through eleven years of toil and hardship, danger, difficulty, and loss, he had strenuously worked his way, following his vocation with a devoted spirit and undaunted courage. He feared God, was beloved by his friends, and esteemed by all who ever had the happiness of knowing him. An inscrutable decree cut him down as he grasped the laurel of wordly fame. Fleeting though that may often be, still the noble qualities of his soul hold fresh impressions on the memory of his friends, and his worth as a useful member of society, and practical botanist, will live and be felt while the study and cultivation of plants and flowers remain pleasing and beneficial to mankind.

G. B.

ARTICLE XLV.-A Holiday Visit to the Acton Copper Mines. By one of the Editors.

Before entering upon the special subject of this paper, we shall explain to our readers in what place within the Province of Canada these mines may be found. If, then, we start from the terminus of the Grand Trunk Railway at Montreal, and crossing the far-famed Victoria Bridge take the road towards Portland, we get upon the highway to the village of Acton. Travelling thus in a direction a little north of east we pass over the beautiful plains of the county of Chambly and the still more lovely valley of the Yamaska, which, were they cultivated with any degree of skill, or intelligence, would rival for productiveness the prairies of the west, and yield immense wealth to their owners and the country. As it is, the fields are for the most part miserably neglected-the soil is apparently wrought-out and impoverished by frequent crop. ping-the grain crops are very scanty, and the herbage of the pasture lands is little more than stunted Canada thistles. Lean men and lean kine pick up a poor subsistence on these wasted meadows of this fine county. So thoroughly has the land been cleared that bush or tree of any kind is scarcely to be seen, and even fences are few and far between. The old timber has long ago been swept away, root and branch; and the i'ea of planting trees for shelter, beauty or fuel, has not yet entered the rustic minds of the happy habitans. As we near the river Yamaska,

the scenery becomes certainly more picturesque. Clumps of wood and fertile fields relieve the eyes, and to the right the Beloeil Mountain rises in front almost sheer out of the plain. Its abrupt and sloping sides are at this season luxuriantly clothed with softest verdure. This great intrusive mass of trappean rock is an object of striking beauty and one of the choicest retreats for the lovers of Nature. Its geological structure and character indicate without mistake the peculiar disturbances to which this region of country was subjected during the ancient Silurian period. Obtruded into the stratified deposits of the locality in a pasty, if not also in a molten state, and assuming a crystalline character, it has withstood for ages-an everlasting mountainthe destructive forces to the action of which it has been exposed. The bluff and rugged appearance of its north-eastern side and its gradual slope to the south-west indicate that during the tertiary age it was washed by the waters of the northern ocean. As the land gradually rose from the bed of the deep it stood as one of a group of small islands amid a waste of waters bearing on their bosom flows, and bergs of ice. But many a change has passed over the earth's surface since these very ancient days. For ages Belœil has stood as it now appears an outpost sentinel of the Mountains of Vermont. It has long looked over the fertile valley of the St. Lawrence. It has been the abode of the wolf, the bear and concolor, and the camping ground of the wild Indian. Civilization has for half a century at least driven these away from its precincts and it is now a pleasant resort of the summer tourist. For the botanist no place can be more delightful or richer of results. Its flora comprises a great part of the plants that are peculiar to the northern United States and to Canada. Were it our purpose now to descant upon this inviting topic we might say much that would be interesting but we must pass on, however reluctantly, to our appointed destination. Leaving Beloeil we sight, in the distance to the west, the conical peak of Mount Johnston and the huge whale-like elevation of Rougemont. Around us the land is dry and barren. Farins and clearances are not so common. Tangled bush and mossy swamp everywhere prevail. We pass the flourishing town of St. Hyacinthe and traverse a country which for many miles has no features of interest, and little to indicate that it can be of much value for permanent settlement. About seventy miles from Montreal we finally reach the village of Acton, a station on the line of railway. Once it was a poor and

little frequented place, but now, thanks to the copper mines, it is full of vigorous life. There is no beauty about it at all. The country around it has not to any great extent been cleared. Patches of cultivated and pasture land here and there nestle in the woods. Stumps and scrubby bush are on all sides conspicuous features. The soil is not good; for the most part it is barren sand and scarcely worth the labour of cultivation. In some seasons it will afford good pasturage for which purpose it is most likely to be henceforth devoted.

The old houses of the hamlet are rapidly being put out of countenance by new and more pretentious erections. Large buildings are springing up on every side for stores, work-shops and dwelling-houses. Already wealth is beginning to flow into this hitherto obscure and neglected place. Its population within the last few months must have increased seven-fold at least. Signs of prosperity are everywhere manifest. The barren fields which formerly might have been purchased for an old song, are now transformed into town-building lots, and rising enormously in value. According to the course of things in this country the village bids fair to become, ere long, a town and the town, in due course, to be raised to the rank of an incorporated city.

The mines are about half a mile distant to the west from the village. The road at first passes over low and swampy ground, part of which has been cleared. A little way on the road becomes dry and sandy. About half way there is a considerable ridge of sand which lies in a direction to the west of south. Hemlock is the prevailing timber; sphagnum abounds in the swamps, in which also there is an undergrowth of curious shrubs and plants. The region is by no means picturesque but rather the very reverse. A lover of beautiful scenery would never think of seeking it here. A botanist would scarcely think the labour of forcing his way through swamps, charred stumps, fallen rotten timber, and prickly branches, repaid even by the pretty and interesting plants he would pick up. With compass in hand we attempted to explore the surrounding waste, and, except for the novelty of the thing, it was rather weary work. We satisfied ourselves of this, however, that the mound of sand runs through the bush in a line parallel to the limestone rocky ridge, about half a mile to the west, on the flank of which the mines are found, and may have been formed, in the process of the elevation of the continent, on the shores of an ancient estuary.