fragments of the lower strata were broken off and blown upwards by the force of the pent-up air and gases rushing through the cracks of the sinking strata, the weight of which continued more and more to compress them, so that the boulders of M. De Luc came from below, and not from above. This is also a gratuitous hypothesis; and as the localities of many boulders exhibit no signs of such subsidences and explosions, it has obtained few if any adherents. So far, then, it would appear that philosophers, though armed with all the powers of mind invigorated by study and sharpened by research, have fought in vain against the difficulties which like a rampart fence in this rugged problem. For a moment they have appeared illumined by the light of knowledge, and have then sunk into the darkness of ignorance. But though philosophy may yield, she never will despair. And now, having marshalled new forces for the combat, we shall see her, with brighter hopes and prospects, again renew the assault. To the consideration, therefore, of a widely different class of explanations, I shall proceed to direct attention in a second paper. J. E. P. * * * * * INTELLECTUALITY OF ANIMALS.--Father Bougeant, a Jesuit, was placed in confinement by his superior in the College of La Fleche, near Paris, for what he had written on the subject of the intellectuality of animals. His views, if not orthodox, were certainly curious and amusing, and there is a sprightliness in his mode of treating the subject, graceful at least in the Frenchman, if not conformable to the divine. The following observations, extracted from that section of his work which treats of the language of beasts, may amuse the reader:--“Our first observation upon the language of beasts is, that it does not extend beyond the necessaries of life. However, let us not impose upon ourselves with regard to this point. To take things right, the language of beasts appears so limited to us only with relation to our own; however, it is sufficient to beasts, and more would be of no service to them. Were it not to be wished that ours, at least in some respects, were limited too? If beasts should hear us converse, prate, lie, slander, and rave, would they have cause to envy us the use we make of speech? They have not our privileges, but in recompense they have not our failings. Birds sing, they say; but this is a mistake. Birds do not sing, but speak. What we take for singing is no more than their natural language. Do the magpie, the jay, the raven, the owl, and the duck, sing? What makes us believe that they sing is their beautiful voice. Thus, the Hottentots in Africa seem to cluck like turkey-cocks, though it be the natural accent of their language; and thus several nations seem to us to sing, when they indeed speak. Birds, if you will, sing in the same sense, but they sing not for singing’s sake, as we fancy they do.