K1DDS OWN JOURNAL. 



351 



THE VOICE OF NATURE. 



BY ELIZA COOK. 



God hath a voice that ever is heard 

 In the peal of the thunder, the chirp of the hird ; 

 It comes in the torrent, all rapid and strong, 

 In the streamlet's soft gush as it ripples along ; 

 It breathes in the zephyr, just kissing the bloom ; 

 It lives in the rush of the sweeping simoom : 

 Let the hurricane whistle, or warblers rejoice, 

 What do they tell thee but — God hath a voice ? 



God hath a presence, and that ye may see 

 In the fold of the flower, the leaf of the tree ; 

 In the sun of the noonday, the star of the night ; 

 In the storm-cloud of darkness, the rainbow of light ; 

 In the waves of the ocean, the furrows of land ; 

 In the mountain of granite, the atom of sand ; 

 Turn where ye may, from the sky to the sod, 

 Where can ye gaze that ye see not a God ? 



THE AQUATIC VIVARIUM, 



REGENT'S PARK. 



The Zoological Society appear to be ever on 

 the qui vive for novelty. Animals, with alarm- 

 ingly-ugly names, have been introduced from time 

 to time with great success. They have, however, 

 had their day ; and now there requires " something 

 new." The last novelty is called a " Vivarium," 

 and it is indeed a curiosity in its way. 



It is a light airy building, sixty by twenty feet 

 in area, containing around its transparent walls 

 fourteen six-feet tanks of plate glass. Eight tanks 

 will, in the first instance, be devoted to living 

 marine animals, and of these six are ready for ex- 

 hibition. They enclose masses of rock, sand, 

 gravel, corallines, sea-weed, and sea-water; and 

 are abundantly stocked with crustacea, star-fish, 

 sea-eggs, actinias, ascidians, shelled and shell-less 

 molluscs, and fish of the genera gasterosteus, 

 labrus, crerrilabrus, blennius, gibius, and cottus. 

 Thus have we the contents of a whole river under 

 a glass shade. 



What a lady does with gold fish in her draw- 

 ing-room, the Society have been doing with the 

 entire inhabitants of a pond. You see a tiny lake 

 poured — fish, stones, pebbles, moss, and all — into 

 a glass box no bigger than a child's cradle. You 

 look into the box — in shape not unlike an orange 

 box, only somewhat higher — and there you see 

 the fishes swimming about, dancing the most 

 intricate quadrilles in the water, as easily as by 

 looking into a glass bee-hive you see the bees hard 

 at work making honey. More than this — the 

 Society have dredged part of the ocean, they have 

 dived to the bottom of the sea, and brought up 

 the most curious collection of sea-weeds and sea- 

 plants — most of them alive and kicking. In a 

 short time, the deep will no longer have any 

 secrets hidden from us. The Atlantic, we expect, 

 will soon be made visible to the naked eye of man. 

 We shall be able to see all its treasures — to take 

 the census even, if necessary, of its marine popu- 

 lation — to record their births, deaths, and mar- 

 riages — to be the historians of their daily habits, 

 movements, changes, jealousies, and pitched 

 battles ! 



Of course everybody will pay a visit here, if 



only to see flourishing, in their native element, 

 specimens of a great number of the fish they have 

 eaten, and a greater number besides they would 

 never think of eating. There's the fifteen-spined 

 stickle-back. What would they think of a dish 

 of these for dinner ? There's the spider-crab also 

 — which would hardly tempt, we think, the great- 

 est lover of shell-fish to take him for supper just 

 before retiring to bed. There's the " craw-fish," 

 likewise, who does not look so tempting as when 

 he appears at table in his bright military costume ; 

 but is of a dirty drab color, hardly distinguishable 

 from the mud and stones in the midst of which 

 he is lying. It is curious to watch him scratching 

 his shelly head, and cleaning himself with his 

 long claws with an action of rubbing them over 

 his face somewhat similar to a cat's. 



The animals seem quite puzzled how to meet 

 the gaze of so many curious eyes. Fish, usually 

 bold and daring, are here timid and retiring. 

 The great delight of a large fish seems to be 

 to creep under a big piece of rock, as if the sun 

 was too much for him, and he wanted to lie in 

 the shade and quietly philosophise all by him- 

 self. There he will remain, absorbed in inflec- 

 tion for hours. The only fish that appears in 

 the least anxious to enter into communication 

 with his fellow-creatures, is the ugly-looking 

 pike, with his long beak of a mouth that comes 

 to a point, not unlike a pair of grape-scissors, 

 and opens and shuts exactly like one. But 

 the other fishes, judging from the rapidity with 

 which they get out of the way, do not seem to 

 relish the spirit of his communications. The 

 young fish are the most restless. They dart 

 about with a kind of kittenish playfulness, as if 

 they enjoyed the sport, and never would be tired 

 of swimming. 



Of the wonderful forms of the different animals 

 — some so fairy-like, some so twisted and deformed 

 — it is impossible to give a notion. Their colors, 

 and blending of colors, in endless variety, would 

 puzzle the skill of an artist to describe. Some 

 glitter in a complete suit of armor, every scale of 

 which is of gold. Others are of a light blueish 

 transparency, reminding you of the reflection of 

 an amethyst with the sun playing upon it. Some 

 look like little mother-of-pearl fishes, such as are 

 used for counters at a round game ; whilst others 

 remind us of those peculiar purses that ladies 

 sometimes carry, and which are made up of dif- 

 ferent streaks of color — not two of them being 

 alike. Fancy all these flashing and glittering to- 

 gether, as if they were being continually shaken 

 up in the cage before you. They are not, how- 

 ever, all beautiful. For instance, there is one 

 little green, spotty, apoplectic monster, with gog- 

 gle eyes, and a stomach that bulges out worse 

 than any officer's breast. This overgrown fellow 

 hobbles along as if he were too fat to get on without 

 the aid of a stick. Nor are the crabs pretty, with 

 their spiky claws, that keep opening and shutting 

 as if they wanted to shear off some poor little fish's 

 head. Still they are amusing. 



Perhaps the most curious part of the exhibi- 

 tion are the zoophytes and the sea-plants. They 

 have been compared in harmony of color to the 

 arrangement of a skilfully-dressed flower-garden. 

 Some have gone so far even, as to declare that 

 in the beauty of their many hues, they equal 



