ls and of plants, undergo, in the
air, and with the aid of moisture, a series of changes, the last of which
are, the conversion of their carbon into carbonic acid, of their hydrogen
into water, of their nitrogen into ammonia, of their sulphur into
sulphuric acid. Thus their elements resume the forms in which they can
again serve as food to a new generation of plants and animals. Those
elements which had been derived from the atmosphere take the gaseous form
and return to the air; those which the earth had yielded, return to the
soil. Death, followed by the dissolution of the dead generation, is the
source of life for a new one. The same atom of carbon which, as a
constituent of a muscular fibre in the heart of a man, assists to propel
the blood through his frame, was perhaps a constituent of the heart of one
of his ancestors; and any atom of nitrogen in our brain has perhaps been a
part of the brain of an Egyptian or of a negro. As the intellect of the
men of this generation draws the food required for its development and
cultivation from the products of the intellectual activity of former
times, so may the constituents or elements of the bodies of a former
generation pass into, and become parts of our own frames."

The greatest mystery of all remains. What of the Spirit--the Soul? The
vital principle which bound the frame together has been dissolved; what of
the Man, the being of high aspirations, "looking before and after," and
whose "thoughts wandered through eternity?" The material elements have not
died, but merely assumed new forms. Does not the spirit of man, which is
ever at enmity with nothingness and dissolution, live too? Religion in all
ages has dealt with this great mystery, and here we leave it with
confidence in the solution which it offers.

PERSONAL SKETCHES AND REMINISCENCES. BY MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.(2)

Recollections Of Childhood.

Most undoubtedly I was a spoilt child. When I recollect certain passages
of my thrice happy early life, I can not have the slightest doubt about
the matter, although it contradicts all foregone conclusions, all nursery
and school-room morality, to say so. But facts are stubborn things. Spoilt
I was. Every body spoilt me, most of all the person whose power in that
way was greatest, the dear papa himself. Not content with spoiling me
in-doors, he spoilt me out. How well I remember his carrying me round the
orchard on his shoulder, holding fast my little thre