ound that
the heat of the earth increases rapidly as we descend below that
point in the earth's crust to which the sun's heat extends. The
mean rate of increase of heat has been stated by the British
Association to be one degree of Fahrenheit's thermometer for every
forty-five feet: at this rate all the known rocks in the earth
would be melted at a depth of sixty miles.'

Here, then, are all the conditions necessary to the production of
petroleum. The vegetable deposit was made amid the rocks--we know not
when; internal heat has been decomposing that matter, and setting free
its gases; these again have been condensed as they approached the
surface, and have filled up the cavities, and accumulated amid the
rocks, until in these last days the earth has literally poured us out
rivers of oil.

Still all this is mere speculation. The hidden path yet remains
unexplored. It may always remain so; but we have the great fact of
Divine providence in the rich and copious supply, that is none the less
valuable because it flows from an unknown source, and comes to us
through unexplored channels.

THE ANGELS OF WAR.

Two angels sat on a war-cloud, watching the din of the fight,
One was an angel of darkness, and one was an angel of light.
The first looked down and smiled, with fearful, fiendish glee:
'Of all earth's sights,' he shouted, 'this is the one for me!
Where is your God in heaven? and where on earth is your Christ?
What have your laws and your gospels, your churches and sabbaths sufficed--
That here in this freest land, and now in this ripest age,
Men give up reason and manhood for brutal fury and rage?
Men who have prattled of peace, of brotherhood, freedom, and right!
Here is a thirst which is deeper! See how your Christians can fight!
Louder than savages' war-whoop, fiercer than savages' ire,
List to the din of their cannon, look on its murderous fire.
These be thy triumphs, O Freedom! Christendom, this is thy good!
Deadliest weapons of warfare, earth's reddest vintage of blood;
The fate of states and nations, the fate of freedom and right
Staked on the nerve of a man, poised on a cannon ball's flight;
A land of widows and orphans, a land of mourning and pain,
Whose air is heavy with sighs, whose soil is red with the slain.
Say, Earth, art thou drawing nearer that age, the promised of yore,
When swords shall be beaten to ploughshares, and war