s now accosted by Willy, who had been
amusing himself, leaning over the side of a boat which had been lowered
down, by the first-lieutenant, to examine the staying of the masts, and
catching in a tin pot the various minute objects of natural history
which passed by, as the frigate glided slowly along.

"What shell is this, Mr Macallan, which I have picked up? It floated
on the surface of the water by means of these air-bladders, which are
attached to it."

"That shell, Willy," replied Macallan, who, mounting his favourite
hobby, immediately spouted his pompous truths, "is called by naturalists
the Ianthina fragilis, perhaps the weakest and most delicate in its
texture which exists, and yet the _only one_ [see note 1] which ventures
to contend with the stormy ocean. The varieties of the nautili have the
same property of floating on the surface of the water, but they seldom
are found many miles from land. They are only coasters in comparison
with this adventurous little navigator, which alone braves the Atlantic,
and floats about in the same fathomless deep which is ranged by the
devouring shark, and lashed by the stupendous whale. I have picked up
these little sailors nearly one thousand miles from the land. Yet
observe, it is his security--his tenement, of such thin texture to
enable him to float with greater ease, would not be able to encounter
the rippling of the wave upon the smoothest beach."

"What use are they of?"

"Of no direct use that I know of, William; but if it has no other use
than to induce you to reflect a little, it has not been made in vain.
All created things are not applicable to the wants or the enjoyment of
man; but their examination will always tend to his improvement. When
you analyse this little creature in its domicile, and see how
wonderfully it is provided with all means necessary for its existence,--
when you compare it with the thousand varieties upon the beach, in all
of which you will perceive the same Master-hand visible, the same
attention in providing for their wants, the same minute and endless
beauty of colour and of form,--you cannot but acknowledge the vastness
and the magnificence of the Maker. In the same manner the flowers and
shrubs, which embellish, as they cover the earth, are not all so much
for use, as they are for ornament. What human ingenuity can approach to
the perfection of the meanest effort of the Almighty hand? Has it not
been pointed out in the Scriptu