After traversing the barrier of the cataracts, it passes through a broader valley between mountains of some height, and on its banks are many shaded or inundated tracts, which yield products of considerable value; this is Upper Egypt. Emerging from these mountains, the Nile enters a flat and extensive plain, where it separates, and by two great and divided streams, with various intersecting branches, enters the Mediterranean; this is Lower Egypt. In the last part of its course, the Nile is nearly on a level with the district which it intersects, and when swelled by the autumnal rains of Central Africa, overflows it entirely. The waters begin to rise about the 18th or 19th of June, attain their greatest height in September, and subside as gradually as they rise, and within about an equal space of time. The land thus covered with the fertilizing alluvial deposit, collected during so long a course, becomes the most productive, perhaps, on the face of the globe; and notwithstanding its limited extent, and the mighty wastes on which it borders, has always maintained a numerous population. Thus it appears that the fertility of Egypt is solely dependent on the Nile, and that, but for this, it would be, like the rest of Africa in this quarter, a sandy and desolate waste. The Old Man in the Corner. THE PHILOSOPHER REBUKED. There was once a learned man, or philosopher, who was fond of prying into the works of nature, and every other source of knowledge. At last he became vain of his great stores of information, and was somewhat rash in forming his opinions. One evening, as this philosopher was conversing with a friend, the discourse turned upon the Bible, and the former declared that he did not believe in it. A somewhat warm dispute ensued, in the course of which the philosopher said that he rejected the Bible, because it contained many doctrines which he could not comprehend; “and _I make it a rule_,” said he emphatically, “_never to believe anything which I cannot understand_.” It happened that there was a little girl in the room, the daughter of the philosopher. She was about eight years old, and though of a lively and playful turn, she was remarkably intelligent and observing. While the father and his friend were engaged in conversation, she was occupied with her toys upon the floor, and seemed absorbed in her sports. Yet she listened to the discourse, and though she did not understand it all, yet she caught the remark of her father which we have noticed above, and treasured it up in her heart. She also noticed the inferences which her father drew from the proposition to which we have alluded. Without paying the least attention to the little girl, the gentlemen pursued their conversation, and the philosopher declared, that, as he could not understand how the death of Christ could contribute to the salvation of the sinner, he rejected the doctrine of the atonement, as unworthy of belief.