found to be essentially the same in structure and design. Both are alike constructed to pass through the air with the least resistance. The marks of the rifling would tell the inquirer that this contrivance served the same purpose as the feathering of his own arrow—steadiness of flight. Were he to examine the Moorsom and the Armstrong shells, he would find a corresponding similarity, with the same object to be served—the bursting of the shell at the moment of striking. Amidst the diversity he would discover unity of plan. It is this synthesis of diverse elements that communicates such a charm to the study of the works both of God and man. The child takes a delight in tracing fanciful resemblances; the matured mind finds its enjoyment in discovering latent but real analogies; and to the devout mind, these analogies are so many steps of the pyramid, leading to the apex—the divine unity that synthetises all diversity in nature.
We have already examined the structure of the sun. We have pried into the central furnace, and seen how curiously complicated its structure is. We have seen its surging flames, and the edges of its concentric strata, appearing like the bars of a mighty furnace. Our object is now to shew, that the sun and planets belong to the same family, however diverse they appear to be. We speak of the sun as if separated from the planets by a wide gulf, and as if belonging to a totally distinct class of bodies; but we M
