of arch or dome was formed over the crevice from whence the lava iffued. It was cracked in many parts, and appeared redhot within, like an heated oven: this hollowed hillock might be about fifteen feet high, and the lava that ran from under it was received into a regular channel, raised upon a fort of wall of fcoriæ and cinders, almoft perpendicularly, of about the height of eight or ten feet, refembling much an ancient aqueduct.

We then went up to the crater of the volcano, in which we found, as usual, a little mountain throwing fcoriæ and red-hot matter with loud explosions; but the fmoke and fmell of fulphur was fo intolerable, that we were under the neceffity of quitting that curious fpot with the utmost precipitation.'

Sir William Hamilton informs us, that in another of his excurfions to Mount Vefuvius laft year, he picked up fome fragments of large and regular crystals of close-grained lava or bafalt, the diameter of which, when the prifms were complete, may have been eight or nine inches.

The eruption of Mount Vefuvius last year being of fo fingular a nature, we fhall present our readers with a part of the de. fcription of it, as related by fo accurate an obferver of those extraordinary phenomena.

On Thursday the 5th of Auguft laft, about two o'clock in the afternoon, I perceived from my villa at Paufilipo in the bay of Naples, from whence I have a full view of Veluvius (which is juft oppofite, and at the distance of about fix miles in a direct line from it) that the volcano was in a moft violent agitation: a white and fulphureous smoke iffued continually and impetuously from its crater, one puff impelling another, and by an accumu lation of thofe, clouds of fmoke refembling bales of the whiteft cotton. Such a mass of them was foon piled over the top of the volcano as exceeded the height and fize of the mountain itfelf at least four times. In the midst of this very white fmoke, an immenfe quantity of ftones, fcoriæ, and afhes, were shot up to a wonderful height, certainly not lefs than two thousand feet. I could also perceive, by the help of one of Ramsden's moft excellent refracting telescopes, at times, a quantity of liquid lava, feemingly very weighty, juft heaved up high enough to clear the rim of the crater, and then take its course impetuously down the steep fide of Vesuvius, oppofite to Somma. Soon after a lava broke out on the fame fide from about the middle of the conical part of the volcano, and, having run with violence fome hours, ceafed fuddenly, just before it had arrived at the cultivated parts of the mountain above Portici, near four miles from the fpot where it iffued.

During this day's eruption, as I have been credibly informed fince, the heat was intolerable at the towns of Somma and Ottaiano; and was likewife fenfibly felt at Palma and Lauro, which are much farther from Vefuvius than the for

mer.

mer. Minute afhes, of a reddish hue, fell fo thick at Somna and Ottaiano, that they darkened the air in fuch a manner as that objects could not be diftinguished at the distance of ten feet. Long filaments of a vitrified matter like fpun-glafs were mixed and fell with these afhes; and the fulphureous smoke was fo violent, that feveral birds in cages were fuffocated, the leaves of the trees in the neighbourhood of Somma and Ottaiano were covered with white falts very corrofive. About two o'clock in the afternoon, an extraordinary globe of fmoke, of a very great diameter, was diftinctly perceived, by many of the inhabitants of Portici, to iffue from the crater of Vesuvius, and proceed haftily towards the mountain of Somma, against which it ftruck and difperfed itfelf, having left a train of white fmoke, marking the courfe it had taken: this train I perceived plainly from my villa, as it lafted some minutes; but I did not fee the globe itself.

A poor labourer, who was making faggots on the mountain of Somma, loft his life at this time, and his body not having been found, it is fuppofed that, fuffocated by the fmoke, he must have fallen into the valley from the craggy rocks on which he was at work, and been covered by the current of lava that took its courfe through that valley foon after. An afs, that was waiting for its mafter in the valley, left it very judiciously as foon as the mountain became violent, and, arriving fafe home, gave the firft alarm to this poor man's family.

It was generally remarked, that the explofions of the volcano were attended with more noife during this day's eruption than in any of the fucceeding ones, when, moft probably, the mouth of Vefuvius was widened, and the volcanic matter had a freer paffage. It is certain, however, that the great eruption of 1767 (which in every other refpect was mild, when compared to the late violent eruption) occafioned much greater concuffions in the air by its louder explosions.

Friday, Auguft the 6th, the fermentation in the mountain was lefs violent; but, about noon, there was a loud report, at which time it was fuppofed, that a portion of the little mountain within the crater had fallen in. At night the throws from the crater increafed, and proceeded evidently from two separate mouths, which emitting red-hot fcoriæ, and in different directions, formed a molt beautiful and almoft continued firework.

On Saturday, Auguft the 7th, the volcano remained much in the fame state; but, about twelve o'clock at night, its fermentation increased greatly. The fecond fever-fit of the mountain may be faid to have manifefted itself at this time. I was watching its motions from the mole of Naples, which has a full view of the volcano, and had been witnefs to feveral glorious picturefque effects produced by the reflection of the deep red fire, which iffued from the crater of Vefuvius, and mounted up in the midst of the huge clouds, when a summer storm, called VOL. L. Sept. 1780. P here

here a tropea, came on fuddenly, and blended its heavy watry clouds with the fulphureous and mineral ones, which were already like fo many other mountains, piled over the fummit of the volcano; at this moment a fountain of fire was shot up to an incredible height, cafting fo bright a light, that the smallest objects could be clearly diftinguifhed at any place within fix miles or more of Vesuvius.

The black ftormy clouds paffing swiftly over, and at times covering the whole or a part of, the bright column of fire, at other times clearing away, and giving a full view of it, with the various tints produced by its reverberated light on the white clouds above, in contraft with the pale flashes of forked lightning that attended the tropea, formed such a scene as no power of art can ever exprefs.'

A curious circumftance, related to fir William Hamilton by the king of Naples, deferves to be mentioned. It is as follows: one of his Sicilian majesty's game-keepers, who was out in the fields near Ottaiano, while the ftorm was at its height, had his face and hands fcalded by the drops of rain. This phenomenon, fir William Hamilton fupposes, was occafioned by the clouds having acquired a great degree of heat in paffing through the column of fire. He informs us the most authentic accounts have been received of the fall of small volcanic ftones and cinders (fome of which weighed two ounces) at Benevento. Foggia, and Monte Mileto, upwards of thirty miles from Vefuvius. But what is remarked as most extraordinary (as there was but little wind during the eruption of the eighth of Auguft) minute afhes fell thick that very night upon the town of Manfredonia, which lies at the diftance of a hundred miles from Vefuvius.

[To be continued. ]

Sermons, by Alexander Gerard, D. D. 8vo. 6s. in boards. Dilly.

THIS

HIS learned writer is already fo well known in the republic of letters, by his Differtations on Chriftianity, published in 1766; by his Effay on Genius, in 1774, and other productions, that we have no occafion to fay any thing in this place of his literary abilities. And as the volume now before us confifts of practical discourses, it will be fufficient to give our readers a general view of its contents.

In the first and fecond difcourfe the author fhews, how religion is intimately connected with ordinary life; and the influence which it ought to have on our behaviour, at all times, and in all circumftances. It is, he obferves, by living in fo

ciety, and employing ourselves in the ordinary bufinefs of it, that we can find opportunity for many of our most important duties, for many of the principal functions of the fpiritual and Christian life; and by feizing thefe opportunities, and ufing them properly, we fhall moft effectually provide for eternity. It is from the ordinary occurrences of life, that we find occafion for the principal exertions of thofe virtues, which regard either ourfelves, our neighbour, or our God; and thefe virtues comprehend the whole of our duty, and conftitute that holiness, which is the neceffary preparation for heaven. Love to God is an affection, which does not fpend itfelf in filent admiration, or warm feelings; it is fit to enter into life, and to act in life. It does not display itself fo much, or afcertain its fincerity and ardor fo unexceptionably, by any emotions inwardly felt, or by any raptures of devotion, as by its effects upon our actions; by making us delight to obey and pleafe God in every part of our behaviour; by making us willing to relinquish what we moft fondly defire, or to incur what we moft vehemently dread, rather than offend him in committing any fin, or neglecting any duty; by alluring us to the imitation of all thofe moral attributes, which render God the object of our love. Reverence of God is not exercifed only, when we contemplate and celebrate his greatnefs. It will fhew itfelf every hour in our molt common behaviour; in the fhade of folitude, amidst the temptations of fociety, the cares of bufinefs, and the relaxation of amufements, in every fituation, it will make us ftand in awe, and fin not. The exercife of gratitude is not confined to profeffed acknowledgements of the mercies which we have received, in praife and thanksgiving, in private or public de votion. The world alfo is a field for the exercife of gratitude. It is exercifed, whenever it implants in the heart a new motive to abftinence from fin and hatred of it, whenever it warms the foul with additional alacrity in doing good, and makes us take greater pleasure in it. Common life is the acknowledged fphere of refignation to the will of God.

In this manner our author fhews, that the fpirit of true religion, and the spirit of worldly bufinefs, are not repugnant, like a drop of water and a drop of oil, which repel each other, and refufe to mingle; but are like two drops of mercury running together and forming one drop.

This difcourfe is a very ufeful one, as there is no mistake about the nature of religion more dangerous than an opinion, that it is inconfiftent, or even unconnected, with the ordinary bufinefs of life: an opinion, which will produce different effects on different perfons; but all of them pernicious.

Serm. III. Juftice the Decorum of the Character of Judges: preached at the Affizes.

Serm. IV. The first Promife of the Redeemer. The Mofaic account of the temptation of Eve by the ferpent has exercised the ingenuity of all the commentators. The most common, and, in the estimation of many learned writers, the only probable opinion is, that the devil entered into one of thofe ferpents, which are called in Scripture feraphs or feraphim, (Numb. xxi. 6.) actuated its body, gave it fpeech, and made it his inftrument in the temptation. This hypothefis is attended with difficulties; and therefore our author, in this difcourfe, propofes another, which is in a great meafure new, or at leaft has not, as far as we know, been so distinctly stated before.

That the devil employed one of the brute ferpents feems indeed, to be implied in the words, with which the hiftory is introduced, "Now the ferpent was more fubtile than any beaft of the field."

But, fays our author, it seems to be implied in them only as they stand in our tranflation: the original may with equal propriety be rendered, "Now there was a ferpent more fubtle than any beast, or than all the beafts of the field *;" not one of the beafts of the field, but a being far more intelligent than any of them, than of them all together, a being of an higher order, the devil. In the account of the creation which Mofes had before given, he had no occafion to mention the devil: but being now to relate a tranfaction in which the devil was the firft mover, he very properly introduces it with an intimation, that there is fuch a being as the devil. But why does he call the devil a ferpent, if he neither affumed the form of one, nor ufed one as his inftrument? He might very properly call him a ferpent, without any regard to his form, on account of his fubtlety. It is common to exprefs a rational being by the name

As the words taken by themselves bear this translation, fo their construction with the fequel, feems to require it. If we follow the common verfion, by the ferpent who was thus fubtle, we muft understand the ferpentine kind in general, and then the next verb will have no nominative: "And he said unto the woman, Yea hath God faid, ye fhall not eat of every tree of the garden?" Who faid this to the woman? Not furely the ferpentine kind in general; but it alone had been mentioned before. It must have been fome one individual ferpent that faid fo; but no fuch had been (o much as hinted at. Accordingly they who follow this interpretation are forced to allow an ellipfis of the nominative, making Mofes to say, "The ferpentine kind was more fubtle than any beaft of the field, and the devil, fpeaking out of (or affuming the form of) one individual of that kind, said unto the woman, &c." This is extremely harsh and violent.’

of