ease, of which he finally died, began to develope itself, though he evidently had no expectation that it would have a fatal issue, he seemed willing to repose implicitly in the orderings of Divine Providence respecting him. And as the case gradually became more doubtful, his confidence in the wisdom and goodness of his Heavenly Father did not forsake him; and when it was demonstrated even to his own conviction, that he had but a little longer time to spend on earth, he exhibited more than ever the loving and trusting spirit of a child. His last days and hours are represented as having furnished a most edifying example of christian submission and faith; and those who were with him at the last, felt that they were standing around the bed of an expiring patriarch. His latter days were emphatically his best, for it was then that he learned to be absorbed in the paramount interests of the world to come. He was indeed a truly great, useful and venerable man, and so posterity will record concerning him.

Judge Spencer was married three times; first to a daughter of Mr. Canfield, his instructor in Law, and afterwards successively to two sisters of DeWitt Clinton. His last wife he survived several years. He has left four children, all occupying places of usefulness and responsibility; one of whom is the Hon. John C. Spencer, late Secretary of the Treasury of the United States.

THE LAST NIGHT IN ENGLAND.

BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.

Hark, to the midnight clock.

The faint Spring Moon

Looks down on Clifton's heights, while at their feet
Sleeps the quick-tempered Avon. Graceful domes
Catch silver from its beams, as lone I muse,

Listing for the last time, the noon of night
Told out from yon grey tower.

For the last time!
And so, farewell, Old England. Oft my heart
In careless childhood, long'd to see thy face,
For like a Mother, thou dids't tell me tales,
Of knight, and tournament, and ladye-love,
The hooded falcon, on her finger's tip,

And sing me minstrel lays, and ballad chimes,
Till I forgot my play.

Well hast thou kept

The glowing promise to my fancy made,
Opening thy treasures to my graver eye,

Thy classic domes, and abbies' letter'd aisles,

Baronial palaces, and cottage homes,

Where the plump infant fills its hand with flowers,— Still, with thy rich, cathedral melodies

Soothing my sɔul.

But at this parting hour,

'Twere sad to think I ne'er may see thee more,
Save that my western home so beckoneth me,
Peering with vine-clad porch across the wave,
That on my brow I feel its breath of joy,
Sweeping all clouds away.

I give thee thanks
For kindly words, and hospitalities

Sweet to the stranger. Wonderful art thou,
With thy few leagues of billow beaten rock,
Lifting thy trident o'er the farthest seas,
And making to thyself, in every clime,
Some tributary. Still extend thy hand,
Oh white-cliff'd Albion, o'er the wat'ry deep,
Grasping my Country in a true embrace.
For whatso'er doth bind those christian lands
In amity, is dear,-whether the threads
That Genius, like the venturous spider throws
High o'er the gulf of ages, -or such links
As Science forges, or bold Commerce turns
To golden chains, weaving like her of old,
Philistia's sorceress, with the pen and web
The mighty dreamer's locks.

Once more,-farewell! And let no hostile purpose spring to birth,

Between our realms. For History hath not grav'd
So strange a madness on her time-worn scroll,
As this would be-Mother 'gainst Daughter set
In reckless warfare, shedding kindred blood.
No. Show your faith's true glory, by its fruits
Of peace, and charity.

So, may ye stand

Until the strong Archangel, with his foot
On Sea and Land, shall toll the knell of time.

THE ECONOMY OF SNOW.

Although our subject concerns only the utility of the beautiful meteor known as snow, the temptation to treat of the topic æsthetically-to dwell upon the marvellous magnificence and minute peculiarities of the phenomenon itself—is almost irresistible. It is a rare thought to indulge, when standing among the eddies of flakes as they circle in the wintry blast, that a world of crystals is falling around us; that every crystal is shaped to a beauty more exact than the finest work of art, and variously moulded into pyramids, prisms, stars, feathery shafts, and all these combined; that these crystals are all as transparent as the clearest glass, but whitened by the reflection of the light intercepted within their innumerable sides: that, although clear and regular in form as the hardest jewel, yet are they light enough to fly on the wind, and delicate enough to dissolve into water at a single touch that these flakes are susceptible of surprising differences of size, when the air scarcely touches the freezing point, falling a full inch in diameter, and when the biting air congeals them almost into dust, coming down in misty and impalpable clouds. But we have no time to dwell upon such points as these. It has long been understood, that snow is a protection to vegetation, shielding it from the excessive and too long continued

Scoresby enumerates six hundred varieties of snow crystals.

rigors of the winter's frosts. But it has been quite recently settled, at there is an actual increase of heat under snow. Experi ments show a difference of several degrees between the temperature of snow near the surface and at a few inches' depth below the surface. Many plants, which survive cold seasons when the ground is occasionally wrapped in a robe woven of countless flakes of frozen moisture, are killed during what are called open winters. Plants die during winter in England, which flourish in the colder but more snowy regions of the Alps. While the growth of a very large number of the vegetables, necessary for the sustenance of human life, is so timed, as to give a full opportunity for their maturity between the vicissitudes of cold-seed-time and harvest within the few warm months of the year,-still, there is a large class of plants which require more than one year's life to bring them to full and luxuriant growth--the grasses and the trees-and it is needful that during their torpid life in winter the roots, which contain the spring of life, should not be stiffened into death by the perpetual succession of frosts. It becomes plain, therefore, that the fall of snow is one of the chief blessings of the temperate climes; allowing us all the many physical and moral advantages of a bracing winter, while it prevents the roots of the tender herbage from dying under the penetrating touch of the cold.

The very form of the snow is exactly adapted to this purpose. It comes in particles as light as feathers and fills every hollow and indentation of the ground's surface, and seems to be folded like a flexible robe over it. If the moisture of the air froze into hard, stone-like pieces, such as the hail, or came down in the form of solid ice, it would not only injure man and beast and plants by its pelting force, but would furnish no close and snug covering for the ground, through which the air is slowly filtered and in quantities just sufficient to sustain the low vitality of vegetation.

The cause of the deadly cold, under which vegetable nature pines, is the rapid radiation of heat. The texture of snow renders it a bad conductor and heat is radiated with slowness through its subtle fibres.

Nature exhibits her usual proneness for variety in the amount of protection she sends to the earth. Sometimes the covering is scanty and is rent away by a short attack of sunshine or rain.Again it comes in immense masses and remains long, jealously

fostering the germs of life beneath it. When the snows first commence, they are usually light and fleeting, but when the rigors of frost demand it in the dead of winter, they pile fold on fold of their shining drapery around the chilled face of nature. In all these hings we see the wisdom of the Divine Power, which, in more senses than one, GIVETH SNOW LIKE WOOL"-like wool, in its whiteness, delicate texture and beneficent warmth.

But snow is not only beneficial in respect to vegetable life; it affects favorably animal existence itself. It is universally known that it is used by the poor Esquimaux as the building material of their huts. It is all that they can procure, as no timber is to be found on their sterile shores. For them it makes a most comfortable shelter, as impervious to the blast as the plastered wall or the slated roof. It is a well-known fact, too, that the air is warmed by the falling snow, much heat being thrown off in the process of changing atmospheric vapor into frozen crystals.

The color of snow, however, is perhaps one of the most remarkable features of its economy. It is white, of the purest kind and degree-the color that reflects almost all the heat it receives, instead of absorbing, like black and the other dark colors. If snow were black, so much would the bitter cold of the arctic regions be increased, that it is not probable that animal life could be sustained there. Black absorbs nearly all the heat it receives, and reflects next to none into the atmosphere. It is for this reason

that we see such an illimitable variety of hues, especially the dark colors, beautifying the tropics. If the surface of natural objects was there of a prevailing white color, the heat would be intolerable.

Another benefit arising from the color of snow is this: the rapid radiation of heat from such pure white and the slight absorbing power peculiar to this absence of color, prevents its rapid melting. In countries where immense quantities of snow are found, if snow was black and absorbed instead of reflecting the burning rays of the sun, the swift and complete melting of the mass would cause terrific inundations, which would make the whole of the polar regions uninhabitable.

The color (or rather the no color) of snow gives an advan tage in respect to light. The polar regions are not lighted by the sun for many months together. This long night would be