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observed in the shade at the same hour.

It is constantly higher at midnight. In the morning and evening they commonly approach to a state of equilibrium.

Taking the average of a number of comparative observations between the temperature of the atmosphere and that of the surface of the waves, repeated four times a day, at six in the morning, at noon, at six in the evening, and at midnight, in the same seas; the temperature of the waters of the sea is constantly higher, in whatever latitude the observations may be made; at least I myself have never seen an exception to this rule, from 49° North, to 45° South.

The average temperature of the waters of the sea on their surface, and at a distance from continents, is therefore higher than that of the atmosphere with which its waves are in

contact.

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The relative temperature of the waves is increased by their agitation, but their absolute temperature is always diminished.

The temperature of the sea rises in proportion as the observer approaches to continents or large islands.

Other circumstances being equal, the temperature of the bottom of the sea, along the coasts, and in the vicinity of continents, is higher than in `the middle of the ocean.

It appears to rise the nearer we come to continents and large isles.

The heat of the lands five times more considerable; the smaller depth of the bed of the sea, the concentration of the solar rays, and the currents, must apparently be regarded as the essential causes of this phe

nomenon.

It appears not improbable, that the animals and vegetables, which cover the bottom of the sea, may contribute to this, by the higher temperature which they appear to enjoy.

The temperature of the waters of

the sea, far from the banks, at whatever depth it is observed, is in gene ral colder than that of the surface.

This refrigeration appears to bear a certain relation to the depth, since the greater the depth at which the observations are made, the greater it is found to be.

The two preceding results are found equally exact, amid the frozen waves of the two poles and the burning heat of the equator; only at equal depth, the proportion of cold is much greater towards the polar regions.

The results of every observation hitherto made on this subject unite in proving, that the deepest abysses of the sea, as well as the summits of our highest mountains, are eternally frozen, even under the equator.

Pursuing a comparison, exact in all its relations, between the temperature of the gulfs of the ocean, and that of the highest peaks of our continents, it follows, that in the former, as well as in the latter, a very small number of vegetables and animals must live.

Results similar to those which we have observed in the bottom of the sea, have shewn that the same degree of cold existed at great depths in the principal lakes of Switzerland and Italy.

The observations of Georgi, of Pallas, of Gmelin, of Ledyard, and of Patrin in Siberia; those of the celebrated and rigorous observer Saussure in Switzerland, seem to prove, that the case is the same in the bosom of the earth wherever the observations have been made far from mines. Similar results have been lately obtained in America, by Shaw, Mackenzie, Umphraville, and Robson.

Ought not the union of so many facts to throw some uncertainty upon the theory so generally received, and otherwise doubtful, of a central fire maintaining an uniform and constant temperature of about 10° in the whole mass of our globe, whether li quid or solid.

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May we not one day be forced, by new experiments upon this subject, to return to that ancient principle so natural and otherwise so conformable to all the phenomena which pass every day under our eyes? The only source of the heat of our globe is the great star which enlightens it; without it, without the salutary influence of its rays, soon the whole earth, frozen on all sides, would be only a lifeless mass of ice and snow. Thus the history of winter in the polar regions would be that of all our planet.

MANNERS of the INHABITANTS of INDOSTAN.

From Orme's Historical Fragments.

1. Moors. Domineering insolence towards A all who are in subjection to them, ungovernable wilfulness, inhumanity, cruelty, murders, and assassinations, deliberated with the same calmness and subtlety as the rest of their politics; an insensibility to remorse for these crimes, which are scarcely considered otherwise than as necessary accidents in the course of life, sensual excesses which revolt against nature, unbounded thirst of power, and a rapaciousness of wealth equal to the extravagance of his propensities and vices, this is the character of an Indian Moor, who is of consequence sufficient to have any character at all. We find among the Moors, the ceremonies of outward manners carried to a more refined pitch than in any other part of the world, except China. These manners, are become a fundamental of their education, as without them a man would, instead of making his fortune, be liable to lose his head.

An uncivil thing is never said amongst equals; the most extravagant adulation, both of gesture and, words, is lavished upon the superior. The grandee is seated in the Durbar,

:

where all who approach to pay their respects are ranged according to their station and favour. All is attention to his countenance; if he asks a question, it is answered with the turn that will please him if he asserts, all applaud the truth: does he contradict, all tremble: a multitude of domestics appear in waiting, as silent and immoveable as statues. This is the cere monial of paying court. I speak not of the Durbar as the tribunal of jus tice: there injuries must cry aloud, or will not be heard.

By the experience they have sad of Europeans, they deny us all pretentions to politeness. Our familiarities appear shocking to their notions of awe and respect our vivacities quite ridiculous to their notions of solemnity. I shall be pardoned for giving an instance of this.

The gentlemen of one of the European factories in Bengal were invited to see the ceremony of a sacred day at the Nabob's palace, where all the great men of the city were to be assembled. The Europeans were placed near the Nabob's person. The scene was in a large area of the palace; in the middle of which, directly opposite to the Nabob, a fountain was playing. The Moors who entered approached no nearer than just before the fountain; there made obeisance, and retired to their seats. A man of some distinction added a step

or

two too much to his retreating bow, and fell backwards into the cistern of the fountain. I question whether half the foreign ambassadors of any court in Europe could have suppressed their mirth on such an occasion; our foreign visitors burst into repeated peals of laughter, and flung themselves into all the attitudes which, usually accompany the excess of it. Not a muscle was changed in the countenance of any other person in the assembly. The unlucky man, went out with great composure to change his raiment; and all the at

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tention of the company was diverted from him upon the boisterons mirth of the strangers, which became real matters of astonishment to these nice observers of decorum.

In Indostan, every man may literally be said to be the maker of his own fortune. Great talents, unawed by scruples of conscience, seldom fail of success: from hence all persons of distinction are seen running in the same course. The perseverance necessary to attain his end, teaches every man to bear and forbear contrary to the common instincts of human nature; and hence arises their politeness.

An expression of indignation has cost a considerable officer his life, three months after he had betrayed himself to the apprehensions of his superior, who never after thought himself secure from the resentments of a man, whose violence was capable of transporting him to a public manifestation of disgust; in the interim, nothing but the utmost complaisance and respect has subsisted between them. Just as the rash man has thought his peace was made, he has found his destruction determined.

I cannot ask credit for the multi plicity of facts of this nature which I could relate. How many princes have been stabbed in full durbar? How many princes have been poison

even to relieving the necessities of strangers: and the politeness of their behaviour is refined by the natural effeminacy of their dispositions, so as even to exceed that of the Moors.

The sway of a despotic government has taught them the necessity of patience, and the coolness of their imagination enables them to practise it better than any people in the world. They conceive a contemptible opinion of a man's capacity, who be trays any impetuosity in his temper.

Slavery has sharpened the natural fineness of all the spirits of Asia : from. the difficulty of obtaining money and the greater difficulty of preserving it, the Gentoos are indefatigable in business, and masters of the most exquisite dissimulation in all affairs of interest. They are the acutest buyers and sellers in the world, and preserve through all their bargains a degree of calmness, which baffles all the arts that can be opposed against it.

The children are capable of assisting them in their business at an age when ours scarce begin to learn. It is common to see a boy of eleven years enter into an assembly of considerable men, make his obeisance, deliver his message, and then retire with all the propriety and grace of a very well-bred man.

Society.

-Mutato nomini, de te Fabula narratur.

HOR.

ed in their beds? Chiefs of armies cir- Defence of the EDINBURGH Debating cumvented and cut off at conferen ees in the field? Favourite courtiers strangled without previous notice of their crime; or whilst they thought themselves on the eve of destroying their masters. A century of the politics of Indostan would afford more examples of this nature than can be found in the whole history of Europe since the time of Charle

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SIR,

A CERTAIN Gentleman, (thro'

the medium of your useful Miscellany of August last, p. 583,) has made a puerile attempt to amuse the public, by ridiculing our Society.

The fact is, from 20 to 30 of us; industrious tradesmen, meet every Saturday night at 8 o'ciock, to exer

cise our rational powers, after the laborious operations of the week. The principal end of the meeting is to read the Weekly Journal, and your Magazine. But in order to have the whole members present before the reading commences, an additional hour is allowed, and the reading commences at nine, whether all the members are assembled or not. In the interval from eight to nine, in order to prevent confusion, and direct the general attention of the society to one particular point, the president proposes a question for discussion, and every member who chooses may deliver his sentiments. This rational and cheap amusement costs, each of us about 4s. per an num. Instead, therefore, of meriting censure, or being pointed out as ob. jects of ridicule, I cannot conceive how we could spend a leisure hour, either more rationally, or more economically.

Had the great Goldsmith, or the feeling Gray, been introduced to our society, how differently would they have acted? They would have bu sied themselves in discovering a Ci cero here, a Demosthenes there, &c. &c. and the only motions they would have felt, would have been those of pity and regret, that we had not basked in the sun-shine of erudition. Though they might have disapproved of our manner of handling a discussion, still they must have been pleased with the efforts of untutored genius.

It is certainly no blame of ours that we did not receive a liberal edu. cation, and Mr S. certainly does us much injustice by asserting that we meet to discuss subjects in every department of literature. We, on the contrary, make no pretensions to literature at all, but we conceive we have as good a right as he has, to discuss such subjects as come within the sphere of our knowledge.

As to the speeches which he has

put into the mouths of James M'Alpin, porter; Charles Hodge, farrier, and myself, it is sufficient to observe, that they are the ignis fatuus of his own rickety pericranium, and were never delivered in our society. When this gentleman laid aside all conscientious scruples, and launched out into the wide ocean of fiction, it might naturally have been expected, that he would have produced something capable of amusing the public.

But admitting (for argument's sake,) that the speeches were delivered by the persons to whom they are ascrib ed, I can discover no fund of entertainment to amuse the public. The only objection against me is, that I am a tailor, and borrow similes from the terms of my art. Certainly there is nothing either criminal or ridiculous in being a tailor.

The charge against M'Alpin is that he wears a bonnet, and speaks Scotch. I know several noblemen, who wear a bonnet and a kilt too, and speaks broader Scotch than Jamie M'Alpin does.

The charge against the well-dressed man, Charles Hodge the farrier, is much the same with that preferred against myself, viz. that we borrow our similes from the terms of our respective occupations. Had Mr S. been acquainted with human nature, either practically or theoretically, he must have known that the same thing takes place, more or less, among all ranks of mankind, particularly in the navy.

The sum of the whole is, that Mr S. (according to his own account of the matter,) was introduced into a society of honest tradesmen, who were conversing in their own homely style. Cabbage was a tailor, and spoke of elbows and remnants. Jamie M'Alpin wore his own native dress, and spoke the language of his country. Charlie Hodge the farrier, spoke of circulation and cathartics. The president committed the heinous

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transgression of being a jolly looking man, and the still more heinous one of wearing a tie wig.

Proh pudor proh mores!

It occurs to me, that Mr S. is either a poor caterer, or the public are easily gratified. I am, however, inclined to think, that he had intruded himself on them in the same manner as he did on us, and that they will appretiate his merits accordingly. He ought to recollect, that it is not the want of education, but the affectation of it, which makes a man ridiculous; and the little amusement he may have afforded the public, is at his own expence, not ours.

To conclude, Mr Editor, I would advise this vapouring blade, (if he has the least remnant of common sense left to clout the elbows of his folly,) to regulate his amusements according to his own mind, and let us do the same. If I am troubled

with more of his ridiculous nonsense,

theatre. The vast and exalted images, which are raised in the mind, by the pomp of heroic verse, and the amplification of heroic fiction, shrink into a degree of meanness, that becomes quite ridiculous, when reduced to the standard of ordinary nature, and exhibited in the person of a modern actor. The impression which the sight of Achilles on the French stage first made upon me will never

be effaced: a more farcical and ludicrous figure could scarcely present itself to my imagination, than a pert smart Frenchman, well rouged, laced, curled, and powdered; with the gait of a dancing master, and the accent of a milliner, attempting to personate that tremendous warrior, the nodding of whose crest dismayed armies, and the sound of whose voice made even the war horse shudder. The generality of the audience, indeed, never having viewed the original through the dazzling and expansive medium of Homer's verses, thought only of the lover of Iphigenia: and were, of course, as well satisfied with Mons. Achille as with other any amorous hero, " that struts and frets his hour upon the stage." In this, as in other instances, the habitual association of ideas makes the same object contemptibly ridiculous to one, and affectingly serious to another, In this country, however, the characters of the Iliad and Odyssey have been so generally known since Pope's Character of the Heroes of the ILIAD splendid translation, that no tragedy

I shall, (sans ceremonie,) rip up his

rotten seams to some purpose. I am, Sir,

Yours, &c.

ANTHONY M'CABBAGE.
Habit-maker, Edinburgh.

P. S. If you insert this, I will make
your next pair of over-alls for no-
thing.

and ODYSSEY.

A. M.

has been popular, in which they have been introduced; and, I believe,

From Knight's Enquiry into the Prin- Thomson's Agamemnon is the only instance of their being brought upon the stage.

ciples of Taste.

HORACE's advice of preferring the character and fictions of the Iliad to those of common nature or history, as the materials of tragedy, seems to me very ill adapted to the principle of modern drama, how well soever it may have suited the splendid exhibitions of the Greek

Horace drew his rules and instructions from the practice of the Greek theatre; where the actors were so disguised by masks and cothurni ; and the whole performance so much more remote from ordinary nature, than the modern drama, that inçongruities of this kind were less promi

nent

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