THE OUTLINES OF CONTINENTS NOT FIXED.
Continents (says M. Agassiz) are only a patchwork formed by the emergence and subsidence of land. These processes are still going on in various parts of the globe. Where the shores of the continent are abrupt and high, the effect produced may be slight, as in Norway and Sweden, where a gradual elevation is going on without much alteration in their outlines. But if the continent of North America were to be depressed 1000 feet, nothing would remain of it except a few islands, and any elevation would add vast tracts to its shores.
The west of Asia, comprising Palestine and the country about Ararat and the Caspian Sea, is below the level of the ocean, and a rent in the mountain-chains by which it is surrounded would transform it into a vast gulf.
Meteorological Phenomena.
THE ATMOSPHERE.
A philosopher of the East, with a richness of imagery truly oriental, describes the Atmosphere as “a spherical shell which surrounds our planet to a depth which is unknown to us, by reason of its growing tenuity, as it is released from the pressure of its own superincumbent mass. Its upper surface cannot be nearer to us than 50, and can scarcely be more remote than 500, miles. It surrounds us on all sides, yet we see it not; it presses on us with a load of fifteen pounds on every square inch of surface of our bodies, or from seventy to one hundred tons on us in all, yet we do not so much as feel its weight. Softer than the softest down, more impalpable than the finest gossamer, it leaves the cobweb undisturbed, and scarcely stirs the lightest flower that feeds on the dew it supplies; yet it bears the fleets of nations on its wings around the world, and crushes the most refractory substances with its weight. When in motion, its force is sufficient to level the most stately forests and stable buildings with the earth—to raise the waters of the ocean into ridges like mountains, and dash the strongest ships to pieces like toys. It warms and cools by turns the earth and the living creatures that inhabit it. It draws up vapours from the sea and land, retains them dissolved in itself or suspended in cisterns of clouds, and throws them down again as rain or dew when they are required. It bends the rays of the sun from their path to give us the twilight of evening and of dawn; it disperses and refracts their various tints to beautify the approach and the retreat of the orb of day. But for the atmosphere sunshine would burst on us and fail us at once, and at once remove us from midnight darkness to the blaze of noon. We should have no twilight to soften and beautify the landscape; no clouds to shade us from the searching heat; but the bald earth, as it revolved on its axis, would turn its tanned and weakened front to the full and unmitigated rays of the lord of day. It affords the gas which vivifies and warms our frames, and receives into itself that which has been polluted by use and is thrown off as noxious. It feeds the flames of life exactly as it does that of the fire—it is in both cases consumed and affords the food of consumption—in both cases it becomes combined with charcoal, which requires it for combustion and is removed by it when this is over.”