in Natural History, have been defined bodies which are infipid, not ductile, nor inflammable, nor soluble in water. For a view of the classification of stones, and of their distribution, see MINERALOGY and GEOLOGY.

Here we shall make a few observations on some speculative disquisitions relative to their natural history.

As philosophers have perplexed themselves much about the origin and formation of the earth (a subject certainly far beyond the ken of the human intellect, at least if we believe that it was made by the almighty power of God), so they have also propounded theories to explain the origin of stones. When philosophers limit their inquiries within the boundaries of science, where they are led by the sober and safe conduct of observation and experiment, their conclusions may be solid and may be useful; but when, throwing experiment and observation aside, they rear a theory upon an airy nothing, or upon a single detached fact, their theories will vanish before the touch of true philosophy as a romantic palace before the rod of the enchanter. Sometimes from whim, or caprice, or vanity, they attempt to confound every thing: they wish to prove that the soul is mere matter, that plants are animals, and that fossils are plants, and thus would banish two substances, spirit and dead matter, entirely from the world; as if the Author of Nature were actuated by fordid views of parsimony in the works of creation, though we evidently see that a generous profusion is one of the characteristic marks of these works. We leave the task of confounding the different classes of being to those philosophers whose minds are too contracted to comprehend a great variety of being at one view, or who prefer novelty to every thing else. We content ourselves with the old opinion, that the soul is a spiritual substance; that plants are plants, and that stones are stones.

We have been led into these remarks by finding that some philosophers say that stones are vegetables; that they grow and increase in size like a plant. This theory, we believe, was first offered to the world by M. Tournefort, in the year 1702, after returning from his travels in the east. It was founded on a curious fact. In surveying the labyrinth of Crete, he observed that the names which visitors had engraved upon the rock were not formed of hollow but of prominent letters like basso relievos. He supposes that these letters were at first hollowed out by knives; that the hollows have since been filled up by the growth of the stone; and hence he concludes that stones vegetate. We wish we were fully assured of the fact that the letters were at first hollowed, before we attempt to account for their prominence. But even allowing the supposition to be true that they were at first hollow, we reply it is only a single fact, and that it is altogether unphilosophical to deduce a general system from a single fact.

In the second place, this protuberancy of the characters is very improperly called vegetation, for it is not produced by a process in any respect like the vegetation of a plant. Vegetation supposes vessels containing fluids and growth by expansion; but who ever heard of vessels in a stone, of fluids moving in them, or of the different parts expanding and swelling like the branch or trunk of a tree? Even the fact which Tournefort mentions proves nothing. He does not pretend to say, that the rock itself is increasing, but only that a few small hollows are filled with new stony matter, which rises a little above the surrounding surface of the rock. This matter evidently has been once liquid, and at length has congealed in the channel into which it had run. But is not this easily explained by a common process, the formation of stalactites? When water charged with calcareous matter is exposed to the action of air, the water evaporates, and leaves the calcareous earth behind, which hardens and becomes like a stone.

Having thus examined the principal fact upon which M. Tournefort founds his theory, it is unnecessary to follow him minutely through the rest of his subject.—He compares the accretion of matter in the labyrinth to the consolidation of a bone when broken, by a callus formed of the extravasated nutritious juices. This observation is thought to be confirmed, by finding that the projecting matter of the letters is whitish and the rock itself grayish. But it is easy to find comparisons. The difficulty, as Pope says, is to apply them. The resemblance between the filling up of the hollow of a stone, and the consolidation of a broken bone by a callus, we confess ourselves not philosophers enough to see. Were we writing poetry in bad taste, perhaps it might appear. The circumstance, that the prominent matter of the letters is whitish, while the rock is grayish, we flatter ourselves strengthens our supposition that it consists of a deposition of calcareous matter. Upon the whole, we conclude, we hope logically, that no such theory as this, that stones are vegetables, can be drawn from the supposed fact respecting the labyrinth. We have to regret, that the account which we have seen of the subject is so imperfect, that we have not sufficient materials for a proper investigation. Tournefort has not even told us of what kind of stone or earth the accretion consists; yet this single information would probably have decided the question (A).

(A) To give a more distinct notion of Tournefort's theory, we shall subjoin his conclusions: From these observations (he lays) it follows, that there are stones which grow in the quarries, and of consequence that are fed; that the same juice which nourishes them serves to rejoin their parts when broken; just as in the bones of animals, and the branches of trees, when kept up by bandages; and, in a word, that they vegetate. There is, then (he says), no room to doubt but that they are organized; or that they draw their nutritious juice from