a magic spell, a new scene, with its own characteristic beauty, starts out from nature's canvas. The picturesque effects of moonlight are infinitely varied; but how many are lost simply because we do not look for them with aesthetic fondness. In crossing the Atlantic, we had once the opportunity of witnessing the effect produced by a moon picture which was new to the whole ship's company, and to which we do not remember any allusion in the pages of the poet or the savant. The attention of the captain was called to a dark pillar rising from the horizon and terminating in the full moon, which was about thirty degrees above the horizon. It assumed the form of an elongated pyramid, the moon being at the apex. He had, no doubt, seen this hundreds of times before, but he had never really observed it. But now that his attention was called to it, he was filled with wonder at the magnificence of the phenomenon, and the distinct manner in which the pillar stood out in relief from the sky. The officers gathered round the captain, and it was also new to them, as they gazed in admiration. The passengers, who lingered on the deck, swelled the crowd of admirers, and to all the spectacle was perfectly novel. After all were filled with the beauty of the spectacle, the spirit of philosophy arose, and the captain was appealed to for an explanation. His solution was one characteristic of the sailor—it was a sign of bad weather. This tentative effort at a theory was negatived by simply shad-
