bably a deleterious effect upon agriculture. I refer to the 

 universal deluge. When the inspired historian tells us of 

 " the waters under the earth," and that in the days of Noah 

 "these fountains of the great deep were broken up," and 

 the billows rolled over the land ; and at the same time 

 " the windows of heaven opened," and the rain let down in 

 torrents until the whole earth was inundated, there must 

 have been such a convulsion of nature as to alter the surface 

 of the earth, piling up mountains here, and making excava- 

 tions there, if indeed the earth itself was not racked to its 

 centre, and torn to fragments. Some philosophers have 

 supposed that such was the fact ; and that the earth was 

 thrown from its original position in the heavens so as to in- 

 cline its axis to the plain of its orbit. On this theory they 

 account for the longevity of the antideluvians, to whom there 

 could have been no variation of seasons, and maintain that 

 "seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and win- 

 ter," commenced after the deluge, when the promise was 

 made, that they should never cease. Some change in the 

 soil or climate, not less than that contended for in the above 

 theory, must have taken place, as an adequate cause for at 

 once reducing human life to one tenth part of its original 

 length. A change, so unpropitious to animal life, could 

 hardly be otherwise than detrimental to the growth of vege- 

 tables. Besides ; after the labor and experience of more 

 than sixteen centuries, all was lost. Not a record, nor ves- 

 tige left ; but Noah and his sons had to commence their 

 labors and experiments anew, in a new world. Add to these 

 considerations, the shortness of human life, so that but little 

 time is left us to be active and useful, after we have arrived 

 to years of discretion and gained a competent knowledge of 

 agriculture, before we feel our constitution begin to decline, 

 and with a palsied hand and tottering step quit the field of 

 labor, and by our firesides wait our coming dissolution. 



