verance, of one of these creatures, M. Bonnet threw a good-sized pebble into the den: its removal seemed to be quite essential; for the ant-lion left its work to effect it. To toss it out was beyond its power: it therefore determined to carry it up the declivity. For this purpose it insinuated its tail under the offending impediment, and, by moving the rings of its body, hoisted it gradually on its back: thus loaded, it set off with its burden, walking backwards up the sloping side of the hole. Of course, every step made the stone shake and overbalance; but it was righted in a trice by the due adjustment of the body of the insect, or a proper movement of the rings which compose it. Five or six times successively, the stone fell off, in spite of all the skill and patience of the creature ; and five or six times, Sisyphus-like, it renewed its efforts. In some instances, success attended its patient labours ; in others, its efforts proved unavailing: but rather than submit to the inconvenience of a pebble, which could offer the means of escape to its prey, the insect chose to quit the den, and begin a new one. Another, however, acting with more sagacity, simply drove the stone into the sandy walls of the den, and thus effectually abated the nuisance, with little trouble. All difficulties having been at length surmounted, the pit is finished: it is a conical excavation, rather more than two inches deep, and about three inches in diameter at the top, gradually diminishing in its dimensions, until it It is at this becomes no more than a point at the bottom. narrow part of the den that the ant-lion now takes its station; and lest its uncouth and forbidding appearance should scare away any prey which might happen to approach its lurking-hole, it conceals its whole body under a -layer of sand, except the points of its expanded forceps, which stick out above the surface. It seldom happens that much time elapses before some vagrant ant, unsuspicious of danger, arrives upon the margin of the den. Impelled by some fatal motive, it is prompted to explore the depth below; and bitterly is made to rue its prying intrusion. The treacherous sand gives way under its feet; the struggles which it makes to escape serve but to accelerate its descent; and it falls headlong into the open forceps of its destroyer. The ant, however, sometimes succeeds in arresting its downward progress half-way, when it uses every effort to scramble up the sloping side. Furnished with six eyes on each side of the head, the ant-lion is sufficiently sharp-sighted to perceive this manœuvre. Roused by the prospect of losing the expected delicacy, it instantly throws off its inactivity, shovels loads of sand upon its head, and vigorously throws it after the retreating victim. The blows which the ant thus receives from substances comparatively of great size, soon bring it down within the grasp of the terrible pincers which are extended to receive it. If one shower should fail, another soon follows; and lucky indeed must be the insect which can effect its escape.-Family Library. BRIEF ASTRONOMICAL NOTICES, FOR FEBRUARY, 1830. THE SUN rises on the 1st at twenty-eight minutes past seven, and sets at thirty-two minutes after four; on the 17th, he rises at seven, and sets at five. The Sun is eclipsed on the 23d at halfpast four in the morning: he is consequently invisible to every part of Great Britain. The Moon sets on the 1st at twenty-two minutes past one, and on the 5th at twenty-four minutes after five, in the morning. The Moon is full on the 7th, at forty-two minutes past seven in the evening: she rises on the 8th at a quarter before six, and on the 11th at nine o'clock. The Moon enters her last quarter on the 15th, at half-past twelve at night; she rises on the 17th at ten minutes past two, and on the 20th, at seven minutes before five, in the morning. The Moon changes on the 23d, at thirty-six minutes past four in the morning: she sets on the 24th at a quarter past seven, and on the 27 th, at eight minutes after eleven, at night. MERCURY is visible near the horizon after sun-set on the 1st and 2d days of this month: he is afterwards invisible. VENUS is now a very interesting object to a telescopic ob server, as she appears a beautiful crescent. This planet being now near the earth, gives considerable light in the evenings, even so as to cause sensible shadows to buildings and other objects. Venus sets on the 1st about half-past eight, and earlier every following evening. MARS and JUPITER are seen in the mornings. Jupiter rises on the 12th at five, and at the end of the month about four o'clock. SATURN is in opposition to the Sun on the 3d; consequently, he rises at sun-set, and sets at sun-rise; he passes the meridian at midnight at the end of the month, he is due south at about & quarter past ten at night. As this planet is at this time at his nearest distance from the earth, his Ring becomes an amusing object to those who have good telescopes. *The times of the above phenomena I have given to apparent time, or that shown by a sun- dial; but that time differs considerably during this month, from mean or clock time. On the 1st day, the clock is before the Sun fourteen minutes, aud on the last day, thirteen minutes. Greenwich. JUVENILE OBITUARY. W. ROGERSon. DIED, September 13th, 1828, Anne, eldest daughter of the late Mr. Williams, saddler, of Stafford, aged twenty-four. She was left, with her sister, early in life, to the sole charge of an affectionate father; death having deprived them in infancy of the advantages of maternal care. Happily, however, the parent upon whom the important trust devolved was solicitous for the spiritual welfare of his children. He instructed them, both by precept and example, in the principles and duties of religion: so that, after they were called to suffer the loss of him also, as they were when comparatively young, and were thus bereft of their only remaining earthly and natural protector and guide, those habits of the observance of the Sabbath, and of attendance upon the ordinances of God's house, in which they had been initiated, 66 grew with their growth, and strengthened with their strength." The subject of this short notice lived, therefore, as may be supposed, under a powerful corrective and restraining influence. Her character and conduct were of that moral and orderly description which are so common in cases where persons have been religiously educated. Yet still there was a defect; and one of which she herself was becoming daily more sensible, under the spiritual and heart-searching ministry of the word with which, amongst the Methodists, she was favoured. Her religion consisted, for the most part, in an approbation of piety, which spent itself in good desires and feeble resolutions. In this state, she was invited to avail herself of that extremely useful means of grace, the class-meeting. With some hesitancy she accepted the invitation. Shortly after taking this step, her mind became more enlightened, and her heart more deeply affected. The experience of the members of the class appeared to produce a most favourable effect. Powerful convictions were wrought in her mind; and the most solicitous concern was evinced for the pardon of her sins, and a sense of her reconciliation with God. Nor did she wait long before she realized these important blessings. The change which a powerful manifestation of divine love produced in her heart was of a very marked character. Those who had the privilege of meeting with her in class will recollect how she overcame her extreme natural diffidence, and gave, to the satisfaction of every mind, a clear and evangelical account of her acceptance, and of the manner in which she had believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, "to the saving of her soul;" and of the "peace and joy"-a promised and invariable consequencewhich followed. From this time, she was distinguished by very considerable decision of character; and to this, doubtless, was owing, under grace, that uniform excellence of experience in religion, and of consistency of conduct, which her short Christian career exemplified. Her path, it is true, was not always in the " green pastures" of spiritual enjoyment, nor by the "still waters" of peaceful consolation; but in the midst of the trials and temptations of which she was the subject, she generally could rejoice in an assurance of her interest in the atonement. It is not to be supposed, that in the progress, for the short period of two years, of a young Christian female, of unobtrusive and retiring habits, many incidents should occur calling for particular record. It would be an omis. sion, however, not to observe that, both subsequently to the period of her becoming decidedly pious, and antecedent to it, Miss Williams was actively engaged as a teacher in the Sunday-school. In this situation she acquired the esteem of her companions, and the affections of many of the scholars. If proof were wanting of the truth of this observation, the scene of tears and sorrow, in the in'dulgence of which both teachers and scholars were blended, on the Sunday after her departure, would afford one sufficiently strong. Miss Williams first complained of the attack which proved so mournfully fatal on Sunday evening, the 31st of August. In a few days, the disorder assumed a serious aspect; and on Saturday, the 13th, in two short weeks, death terminated her mortal career, and she quitted earth for heaven. "How many fall as sudden, not as safe!" Safe, beyond doubt, her state might have been pronounced, from the general tenor of her experience previously to her illness; but the Lord graciously permitted her, in her last moments, to bear a glorious testimony to the power of divine grace; to witness a good confession; and to leave the world in humble triumph. It is not meant to be represented, that the scene, from first to last, was one of entire conquest. On the contrary, at the outset of her illness, she was in deep distress of mind; arising, it is supposed, partly, from the nature of her disorder; partly, from the tenderness of her conscience; and, in part, from severe temptation. At this period, her faith appeared to fail; and it was distressing to hear her express the painful doubts and gloomy fears with which she was harassed. Her language was that of self-reproach and selfabasement. In her review of the past, she appeared only to behold her own unfaithfulness; and her future prospect was one of clouds and darkness. In this state, she prayed with uncommon fervency, supplicating deliverance; and soon a gracious answer was vouchsafed. "Hope, sent from Heaven, Death of his sting disarm'd, and the dark grave The complaint with which she was afflicted was accompanied with considerable delirium. It is an extraordinary fact connected with this circumstance, that, however incoherently she might speak on other subjects, her conversation on religious points was generally correct and appropriate. She would quote with accuracy passages of Scripture, repeat and sing hymns affectingly suitable to her situation, and pray in language exceedingly be coming and sensible. But it is by no means necessary that the state of her mind should be decided upon from her expressions whilst thus situated. Before the delirium came on, and when she was in that desponding frame which has been alluded to, she evi❤ dently placed her reliance on the atonement. She repeated, with much feeling, the line, "I the chief of sinners am," and, after a pause, with strong emphasis, added,-" But Jesus died for me." The season, however, when her religious consolations be⚫ came strong, and her hope full of immortality, was that which succeeded the delirium, and immediately preceded her death. Her language, then, was that of humble confidence. A most affecting and striking circumstance occurred on the Friday evening, and then also she was in the possession of her facul ties. Her sister, by her request, was reading (whilst she partly held the Bible, and looked on the sacred page) the 23d Psalm. At the words, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me," she exclaimed, with a sublime feeling, which could be no other than a realization of the blessing, "I do fear no evil;-He is with me." She would, at times, very solemnly exhort those about her to devote them. selves to God, exclaiming, "What should I do now, if I had my religion to seek?" She lamented that her service had been so im perfect; and said that, had she to live her years over again, her endeavour would be to make the surrender of herself to God more complete. Her expressions of confidence became stronger as the hour of her departure drew nigh. At one time, she exclaimed, in a spirit of rapturous triumph, "Glory! Glory Glory!” At another, pointing upwards, she said, "Angels beckon me away, And Jesus bids me come.' About five minutes before her death, observing her sister in tears by her bedside, she said "O Sarah! why do you do so? Let me go. Give me up. If you did but know"-Her sister intimated her desire to submit to God's will; and she expired, faintly arti culating a sentence, the only word of which, heard by her attendants, was, Jesus:—thus realizing, literally, a wish she had often expressed, “Happy, if with my latest breath CHARLES C. MORT. 2. Died, Sept. 18th, at Whitehaven, in the eighteenth year of her age, Alice Moore. At a very early period of life, she became a subject of divine impressions; but more especially |