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(From the Scottish Guardian.)

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"To Mr Miller, more than to any other geologist, undoubtedly belongs the honour of having demonstrated, what previous observers had begun to suspect, that the Old Red Sandstone was entitled to rank as an independent formation, by its distinctive fossils, many of which he was the first to discover and describe. Mr Miller had projected and had advanced far in the preparation of, a work on the general geology of Scotland; but it is with the Old Red Sandstone that his name as a geologist will be permanently connected. The work in which he traces the progress of his observations, has been probably perused more for its moral interest and its literary excellences than even for its geogolical descriptions. It is such a book as Oliver Goldsmith might have written, had he been a naturalist, which he was not; but still when Goldsmith wrote on natural history, he threw the natural historians into the shade by his marvellous powers of description; and of all the writers of the golden age of British literature, it has always appeared to us that Mr Miller's style came nearest to the exquisite English of Goldsmith. To Mr Miller's versatile talents, and the varied contributions of his pen to criticism, art, philosophy, and science, is applicable also more than to any other writer of the day, the panegyric pronounced upon Goldsmith, that there was no branch of knowledge which he did not touch, and which, touching, he did not adorn. His most profound work, the "Footprints of the Creator or the Asterolepis of Stromness," is a contribution to natural theology of inestimable importance. It has been adopted as a text book by some of the most eminent teachers of geology in the Universities; and it has done more to expose the atheistical fallacies and sophistries of the "Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation" than even the elaborate essays of Sedgwick and Brewster."

"But to other and abler pens must be assigned the task of estimating the genius, the character, and the services to religion, science, literature, and social progress of this marvellous man. We must content ourselves with these brief and hasty recollections of his life and labours, in recording the unexpected and sorrowful intelligence of his death. Thousands here and in other lands will join with us in the tribute of an honest tear to the memory of a man of true heart and noble powers of intellect, devoted to the loftiest purposes. Little did we think, when we met Mr.

Miller last year, in the genial and kindly intercourse of the British Association, that we were to see his face no more; and that at the early age of fifty-four, he would be lost to the Church which he loved, and to the cause of Christian science, which owes so much to his example and labours. Death has made sad inroads of late years upon the ranks of the cultivators of natural science. Dr. Landsborough, Professor Edward Forbes, Dr. Johnston of Berwick, Mr. Yarrell, and now Mr. Hugh Miller, have passed away in rapid succession,-and Forbes and Miller have left behind them no equals."

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We conclude our extracts with the following from the pen the Rev. Dr. Hanna, in "The Witness," Mr. Miller's newspaper. "But Mr Miller was far more than a Free Churchman, and did for the Christianity of his country and the world, a far higher service than any which in that simple character and office was rendered by him. There was nothing in him of the spirit and temper of the sectarian. He breathed too broad an atmosphere to live and move within such narrow bounds. In the heat of the conflict there may have been too much occasionally of the partizan; and in the pleasure that the sweep and stroke of his intellectual tomahawk gave to him who wielded it, he may have forgotten at times the pain inflicted where it fell; but let his writings before and after the Disruption be now consulted, and it will be found that it was mainly because of his firm belief, whether right or wrong, that the interests of vital godliness were wrapped up in it, that he took his stand, and played his "conspicuous part, in the ecclesiastical conflict. It is well known that for some time past,-for reasons to which it would be altogether unseasonable to allude, he has ceased to take any active part in ecclesiastical affairs. He had retired even, in a great measure, from the field of general literature, to devote himself to the study of Geology. His past labours in this department,-enough to give him a high and honoured place among its most distinguished cultivators, he looked upon but as his training for the great life-work he had marked out for himself, the full investigation and illustration of the Geology of Scotland. He had large materials already collected for this work; and it was his intention, after completing that volume which has happily been left in so finished a state, to set himself to their arrangement. The friends of science in many lands will mourn over the incompleted project which, however ably it may hereafter be accomplished by another, it were vain to

hope shall ever be so accomplished as it should have been by one, who united in himself the power of accurate observation, of logical deduction, of broad generalization, and of pictorial and poetic representation. But the friends of Christianity cannot regret, that since it was the mysterious decree of Heaven that he should prematurely fall, his work as a pure Geologist not half done,―he should have been led aside by the publication of the Vestiges of Creation to that track of semi-theological, semi-scientific research to which his later studies and later writings have been devoted. That, as it now seems to us, was the great work which it was given him on earth to do,-to illustrate the perfect harmony of all that science tells us of the physical structure and history of our globe, with all that the Bible tells of the creation and government of this earth by and through Christ Jesus our Lord. The establishment and exhibition of that harmony was a task for which, is it too much to say, that there was no man living so competent as he? We leave it to the future to declare how much he has done by his writings to fulfil that task; but mourning, as we now can only do, over his sad and melancholy death,-to that very death, with all the tragic circumstances that surround it, we would point as the closing sacrifice offered on the altar of our faith. His very intellect, his reason,-God's most precious gift,— a gift dearer than life,-perished in the great endeavour to harmonize the works and word of the Eternal. A most inscrutable event, that such an intellect should have been suffered to go to wreck through too eager a prosecution of such work. But amid the mystery, which we cannot penetrate, our love, and our veneration, and our gratitude, toward that so highly gifted and truly Christian man shall only grow the deeper because of the cloud and the whirlwind in which he has been borne off from our side."

THE LATE DR. KANE.-At a late special meeting of the American Geographical Society in New York, the President, the Revd. Francis L. Hawks, D. D., paid the following beautiful tribute to the memory of the late much lamented Dr. Kane.

GENTLEMEN OF THE SOCIETY: It becomes my sad duty, as your presiding officer, to bring to your notice the removal, by death, of one of our most distinguished associates. Our friend, Dr. Kane, is no more. I knew him intimately, and the strong bond of our personal friendship, while he lived, prompts me to solicit your in

dulgence if I depart from the formality of a more official announcement on this occasion, and render my brief and humble tribute to the worth of a man whom I greatly loved. In my observation of human nature it has seldom fallen to my lot to meet a fellow-being possessed of more striking excellences, or in whom there was a combination more rare of seemingly opposite qualities; in him, however, they were all harmoniously blended, and it was precisely this fact which made him to me an object of deep and affectionate interest. To a fine mind, inquiring and analytical, he added great industry; and what he deemed worthy of study at all he studied thoroughly. The range of his attainments, too, was varied, and he had roamed largely over the wide-spread field of physical science. Both varied and accurate as were his attainments, there was a beautiful simplicity and modesty so blended with them, that no one ever could suspect him of feeling his superiority in learning, over those with whom he mingled. He had not studied for ostentatious display, but for usefulness in his station. The strong trait in his character was his indomitable energy. In his small and feeble frame there was combined an iron will, a giant power of resolute purpose. Impulsive, ardent as he was by nature, one might have expected that his would be just the disposition to leap prematurely to conclusions; but a very slight acquaintance soon proved that such was not his habit of mind. Rarely have I seen so much of impulsive warmth blended with the soberness of patient, laborious inquiry, and sound practical judgment, as in him. Thus for instance, the strong conviction he had of the open Polar sea, which he lived long enough to discover, was founded on no hasty or happy guess. In conversations which he held with me on the probabilities of its existence, when our discussion turned entirely on scientific considerations, I found that he had reasoned out his conclusions by a chain of induction almost as strictly severe as mathematical demonstration; indeed, part of his process was mathematical. Before he sailed, he told me he was sure there was open water around the pole, and that if he lived to return he hoped to be able to tell me he had seen it. He no more proceeded on conjecture merely than did Columbus in his assertion of the existence of our hemisphere. But with these intellectual traits, and with great personal intrepidity, he had a gentleness of heart as tender as a woman's. There was an over-flowing kindliness in his soul which stirred up his benevolence to its lowest depths when he encountered human misery, whether of body or mind. He spared not

time, nor toil, nor money, to relieve it. I may not violate the sacred confidence of private friendship under any circumstances, and least of all when the grave has for a time sundered the ties which bound us as earthly friends together; but were it lawful to speak all I know on this point, both as his almoner and adviser, I could move your generous sensibilities even to tears, by stories of as pure, disinterested, liberal, self-sacrificing efforts for others, as any it has been my lot to meet with in the records of human benevolence. Alas! my countrymen, what is his early grave but a noble testimonial to his humanity? He is dead himself, because he would snatch others from death.

Another remarkable trait in his character, was the power he had of commanding and exercising an irresistable influence over men. You, Sir (Mr. H. Grinnell), can bear witness with me to this. You have seen him when, with gentle firmness, when love and resolution were both unmistakably present, and both marvellously blendedyou have seen him encounter the unequivocal purpose of insubordination and rebellion in the person of the enraged, reckless and desperate seaman who refuses obedience, and who possessed a physical power that could have killed him with a blow. You have seen that light, frail frame, that, alas, now sleeps in death, approach with quick, firm step, and with no weapons but such as nature gives, he but fixes his keen eye on the offender, and the clear sound of his voice rings upon the ears, in no tone of passion or anger. He but talks, and there is some strange magic in his manner and his words; for presently the tears begin to roll down the rugged, sunburnt cheeks of the hardy seaman; he has humanized him by some mysterious power made up of love and reason mixed. Rebellion dies, and in its place is born a reverence and affection so deep, so devoted, that to the end of our dead friend's life, none love him better than the vanquished rebel.

These were some of his qualities as a man. Of what he has done in the cause of science, and of our chosen department in particular, there is but little need that I should speak. In a short career of but 35 years, he has left upon the times in which he lived his impress so indelibly stamped, that science numbers him with her martyrs, and will not let his memory die. He has told, too, so beautifully and modestly the story of his last suffering pilgrimage in her cause, and that of benevolence, that his remembrance will be kept green in the land of our fathers as well as in our own; for the English language is our common property, and that which is