ta ~ " . eds — i, t ay a ‘ —- » “ Ai * me @ i x 4 - BURNLEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CLUB. TRANSACTIONS. VOL. » VEL 1889. MEMBER’S COPY. BURGHOPE & STRANGE, ST. JAMES’S STREET, BURNLEY. MDCCCXCI. WEST FRONT OF BOLTON ABBEY, FROM A PHOTOGRAPH BY J. C. BRUMWELL, M.D., J.P. “ae _. BURNLEY itr 3 ERARY AND SCIENTIFIC ¢ CLUB. f il nr eee ee 1889, ‘ Ss rt MEMBER'S ere ets " oo) eel ae? ‘3 ~ BURGHOPE & STRANGE, | 8T. JAMESS STREET, BURNLEY. : ( WEST FRONT OF BOLTON ABBEY, aa FROM 4 PHOTOGRAPH BY Jc. BRUMWELL, MO, GN ‘ote ae ae BURNLEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CLUB. TRANSACTIONS. VOT. VIL. 1889. MEMBER’S COPY. BURGHOPE & STRANGE, ST. JAMESS STREET, BURNLEY. MDCCCXCI, Burnley Literary and Scientific Club. ESTABLISHED 1878. ———— President: FRED. J. GRANT. Vice-Presidents: J. C. Brumwety, M.D., J.P. J. Lanerretp Warp, M.A. ALFRED STRANGE. Jas. Greenwoop, J.P., Mayor. W. A. Wanppineton. W. Lewis Grant. Hon. Treasurer: JAMES KAY, J.P. Committee: Jas. LANCASTER. 1D Wel Sel alone G. B. Rawcuirre. Rev. A. E. Tovey, D.Sc. T. Preston. D. A. O’Suttrvan, B.A., L.R.C.P. Hon. Secretary: WILLIAM THOMPSON. Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule 5 RULES. That the Society be named the ‘‘ Burnitey LirEerary AND Screntiric Cuvs.” That the objects of the Club shall be the instruction and mental recreation of its members by means of original papers, discussions, and conversation of a Literary and Scientific character. Party Politics and Religious controversies to be excluded. That arrange- ments be made during the Summer for Excursions to places of Historic and Natural interest. That the Club consist of Ordinary and Honorary members. That the Committee shall have power to accept the services of others than members. That the Club meet on Tuesday evenings at 7-45, the meetings being weekly from September to April. Any meetings held in the Summer months to be preparatory to the Excursions. That the Secretary shall commence the proceedings of each meeting by reading the minutes of the last meeting. Candidates for membership to be proposed and seconded at one meeting, and balloted for at the next ; a majority of three-fourths of the members present being required to secure the election. Candidates for Honorary Membership shall be proposed only after a recommendation from the Committee. That the officers consist of a President, six Vice- Presidents, Treasurer, Secretary, and a Committee of six members, who shall manage the affairs of the Club ; four to form a quorum. Such officers to be chosen by Ballot at the Annual Meeting, which shall be held on the first Tuesday in April. Nominations to be received only at the three meetings next preceding the Annual Meeting. Rule _ 8. Rule 9. Rule 10. Rule 11. Rule 12. Rule 13. 6 That the reading of any paper shall not occupy more than one hour, the remaining portion of the time, up to ten o'clock, to be spent in conversation and discus- sion. No speaker to occupy more than five minutes, or to speak more than once, except by permission of the Chairman. That a Sessional Programme shall be prepared by the Secretary, and printed, in which the business of each evening shall be stated. All subjects proposed to be brought before the Club to be approved by the Committee of management. Each member shall have the privilege of introducing a friend,* but no person so introduced, shall be allowed to take part in the proceedings, unless invited by the Chairman, to whom the said person’s name shall be communicated on his entrance into the room. The Committee shall have power to declare any meeting ‘‘ Special’? and to make such arrangements as to admission of friends at such meeting as they shall think proper. That an annual Subscription of 10s. be paid by ordinary members, and any person whose subscription is in arrear for three months shall cease to be a member of the Club. The Accounts of the Club shall be made up by the Treasurer to the end of December in each year; and a Balance Sheet shall, after having been audited, and passed by the Committee, be printed and sent to the members before the Annual Meeting. That the Rules be altered only at the Annual Meeting in April, or at a Special Meeting ; in both cases a fortnight’s Notice shall be given to the members, stating the nature of the proposed alteration. The Secretary shall be empowered to call a Special Meeting on receiving a requisition signed by six members. * No gentleman residing within the parliamentary borough, not being a member, will be eligible for admission. INTRODUCTORY REPORT. This Volume of Transactions, now presented to the members, contains an epitome of the papers read before the Club during the year 1889. Owing to the unavoidable delay in issuing the volume, it has been impossible to get a satisfactory report of some of the papers, and of others it has been possible to obtain only meagre reports. Genuine regret will be felt that the volume does not contain a more extended notice of the paper read by an ex-President, Henry Houlding, on the authenticity of Shakespeare. The end of the first session of the year was saddened by the death of the Honorary Secretary, Thomas Lloyd, B.A., who succeeded W. L. Grant as Secretary in April, 1857. He died on April 2!st, 1889. The funeral took place at Pembroke, on April 24th. The day previous a short service was held in the Burnley Parish Church, and the President and many representatives of the Club joined in the pro- cession to Bank Top Station. A wreath of flowers was placed on the coffin by the President; it bore the inscription, ‘‘A tribute of affection from the Committee of the Literary and Scientific Club to their lamented Secretary.” The Committee secured the services of W. Thompson as Secretary; he was appointed on May 9th, and the appointment was confirmed by the mem- bers on Oct, 8th. Dr. O’Sullivan, on May 9th, was elected a member of the Committee in the room of W. Thompson. On June 26th there was an Excursion to the Manchester Ship Canal; 54 members and friends visited the works at the Salford end of the Canal, and inspected the Docks. 8 On July 27th the members were received by Lady O’Hagan at Towneley; the Garden Party was a novelty in the annals of the Club, and proved the utmost success. On Tuesday, Oct. Ist, the opening meeting of the Session was in the form of a Conversazione held at the Town Hall, the use of which was kindly granted by His Worship the Mayor (Alderman Greenwood). There was a large gathering of members and friends, and the evening was thoroughly satisfactory. The Autumn Session also was marked by some very excellent work; it was closed by the Annual Dinner on Dec. 20th; this was held at the Bull Hotel, and 41 were present. The attendance during the Spring Session was 23 members, 7 friends, total 30; during the Autumn Session it was 36 members, 27 friends, total 63. The number of members admitted during the year is 12, and the total number of members at the end of the yearis 210. The name of James McKay,j of Preston, was added to the list of Honorary Members. The Committee of the Club, in presenting the record of the year’s doings, feel that they are justified in congratulating the members upon its continued usefulness and success. 7 aK Jan. SYLLABUS. JANUARY TO APRIL, 1889. 15— Paper, ‘ Sterne and his Tristram Shandy” J. Lang- field Ward, M.A. 22—Paper, ‘‘ Church Bells,’’—Rev. Ben Winfield, B.A. 29—Paper, ‘“‘ The Smoke Nuisance,’’-—Herbert Fletcher, of Bolton. 5—Address, ‘‘ The Psychology of Memory,’— Rev. M. Maher, 8.J., M.A. “—Paper, ‘‘ Health and Pleasure at Le Mont-Dore,’— J. Dilworth Harrison. 19—Paper, ‘‘The Religious Institutions of the Middle Ages,”—Rev. J. 8. Doxey. 5—Paper, ‘‘The necessity for an Infectious Disease Hospital for Burnley,”—Jas. Mackenzie, M.D. 12—Paper, ‘“‘ The Dean and the Beggar—an Incident of Burnley Churchyard ’’—Jas. McKay, F.R.Hist.S. 19—Paper, ‘Authenticity of Shakespeare’ — Henry Houlding. 26—Paper, ‘‘ The Literature of the English Lakes »—A. Nicholson, of Manchester. 2—Annual Meeting. 9—Paper, ‘‘ With Poets, Artists, and Antiquaries at Bolton Abbey,” (illustrated)—J. C. Brumwell, M.D., J.P. The meeting arranged for Feb. 26 was not held, because of the Parliamentary Election. 10 OCTOBER TO DECEMBER, 1889. Oct. 1—Conversazione, Town Hall. ,, 8—‘* Some doubtful tendencies of Modern Poetry ’’—Rev. T. Leyland. ,, 15—** Socialism ”—Rey. 8. Pearce Carey, M.A. ,, 22—Artistic Soirée.—Director, W. H. Hey. ’ ,, 29—* The Measurement of Electricity, --J. L. Kerr, C.M., M.B. Nov. 5—‘‘ National Health ’—R. C. Holt, F.R.C.S. », 12—‘** How I saw Pharaoh in the Flesh ’—Rev. H. D. Rawnsley, M.A., Vicar of Crosthwaite, Keswick. », 19—‘* Tom Hood ’’—Rey. S. A. Steinthal, Vice-President of the Geographical Society, Manchester. ,, 26—* The Author of John Halifax, Gentleman ’’—Arthur K. Grant. ’ with experiments. Dec. 8—Bibliographical and Typographical Soirée, Letterpress ; Printing, and Illustration ” — Directors, Emery Walker, ‘‘ English Illustrated Magazine,’’ London. ; Alfred Strange. 5, 10—* Sicily ” (llustrated)—W. A. Waddington. : 3) 2%—Dinner. | 11 STERNE, AND HIS TRISTRAM SHANDY. By J. LANGFIELD WARD, M.A. January 15th, 1889. Lawrence Sterne was born in Ireland in 1713. After wander- ing about for some time with his father’s regiment he was placed at school at Halifax, and thence proceeded to Cambridge, to Jesus College, of which his great-grandfather, Archbishop of York, had been master. An uneventful career at Cambridge ended with his being ordained a clergyman; he lived at York, and became acquainted with a Miss Lumley, whom after a some- what romantic courtship of two years he married. This brings us to 1741, and he was now 28. A small living, Sutton in the Forest, was procured for him, probably through the influence of his uncle, Jaques Sterne, Archdeacon of York, a type of the political parson, whom the Jacobite troubles of those days brought to the front. Of his life during the succeeding 16 or 17 years we can gather bits of information from his biography, and from the story of Parson Yorick in ‘‘ Tristram Shandy.” His only surviving child was born in 1747. Before this another living, that of Stillington, producing for him £47 a year, fell to his lot, and during this time he was busily searching among the books of Skelton Castle, or ‘‘ Crazy Castle,” as Sterne called it, the residence of a college friend, John Hall Stevenson, and was procuring from that search a wonderful amount of knowledge of all kinds, which he reproduced in his book. It was not till 1759, that he began to turn his thoughts to literary work. He published nine volumes of his chief work, ‘Tristram Shandy,’ his ‘Sentimental Journey,” and six volumes of sermons. The first instalments of the book won him a name, and he was welcomed in London, and during his stay there he was overwhelmed with invitations. He says in his letters that he had never dined at home since he arrived, and was 14 dinners deep engaged. In 1762 he went to France to recruit his health, though we were at that time at war with the French. He stayed six months at Paris, and after enduring agues at Toulouse and a fever at Montpellier, returned to England after an absence of two and a half years ; his wife and daughter remained behind, 12 In 1766 he made a vigorous chase for health, going down as far south as Naples, and then after racing over France for his wife, and seeking her in five or six different cities, he spends about a week with her, and returns to his parish duties. In October 1767, he was joined by the two ladies, and prepared his smaller work, ‘‘ The Sentimental Journey.’”’ When in London in March 1768, engaged in the publication of this book, the ‘vile influenza’ gets the better of him, and after the long conflict with his numerous diseases, he is compelled to yield to their repeated assaults. He dies in a lodging-house in Old Bond Street, away from his family and friends. It was his own wish that such might be his end; he says, ‘‘I should certainly declare against submitting to death before my friends, and therefore I never seriously think upon the mode and manner of this great catastrophe without this wish, that the Disposer of all things may so order it that it happen not to me in my own house, but rather in some decent inn; the few cold offices I wanted would be purchased with a few guineas, and paid with an undisturbed but punctual attention.’ A biographer says that his attendants robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons, while he was expir- ing. But there is a still sadder story: it is said that his body was taken up from the grave by body-snatchers and dissected at Cambridge ; all this will be found in Mr. Fitzgerald’s book, and also in a column written by him in the World, of August 8th, 1888. % k % * * * Eccentricity and popularity brought him enemies as well as friends; petted by some, he was maligned by others; his acquaintance was indeed largely desired, and his merits were recognised by Bishops like Warburton, poets like Gray, and actors like Garrick, as well as by young ladies, but as he enjoyed the pleasures of greatness so he suffered its penalties, and was attacked with bitterness by some less successful than himself. Witness the numerous squibs upon his work, and Johnson’s insinu- ations, and Goldsmith’s criticisms. Another great writer, Horace Walpole, has unkind words about his treatment of his mother. The two most serious objections that have been brought against him, I fear, must be admitted to be real. It was not till some years after his death that Dr. Ferriar, wishing to add something to our knowledge of one of his favourite authors, published his “ Illustrations of Sterne.” There he brings un- doubted proofs that our author has in some cases transferred bodily whole passages from other authors without acknowledg- ment. The principal author whom he utilises is Burton, taking from the ‘‘ Anatomy of Melancholy ”’ extracts without change. Another fault found is that the book abounds in passages and suggestions of an unseemly character ; it does so, no doubt; no 13 one can defend this, and it is especially hateful, as coming from a clergyman, who ought to have known better. But, granting these two charges are proved, it remains that we have here a book which attracts unbounded admiration from many, and which must live, if for no other reason, at all events for a character which is almost unapproachable in fiction; I mean Uncle Toby. There is no character, even in Shakespeare, that ereat delineator of character, whom I would not readily give up to preserve for myself that kindly old soldier, upon whom nature had written gentleman, with a fair hand in every line of his countenance. The people introduced in this “ Life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, gentleman,’ are the father of the hero, Walter Shandy, a retired merchant ; his brother, Toby Shandy, late captain in the army, wounded at the siege of Namur; Mrs. Walter Shandy, Corporal Trim (Uncle Toby’s servant), wounded at the battle of Landen; Dr. Slop, the country practitioner, an instance of Sterne making a personal attack on living persons, for in Slop he caricatures Dr. Burton, a York physician ; Widow Wadman, and Bridget, her servant, and the servants of Mr. Shandy, coachman, housemaid, cook, and foolish fat Scullion ; then there is Yorick, the parson of the village, intended to represent Sterne, and the hero himself, though his share in the story is small, and he remains chiefly in babyhood ; it is not till the third volume that he is born, and in the ninth he disappears altogether. The beauty of the book lies in the delineation of the characters and the humour of the conversations. Mr. Shandy was originally a Turkey merchant, but had left off busimess for some years, and had devoted himself to smoking his pipe, study- ing and discoursing on philosophy. Mr. Shandy loved an argument ; he loved to lecture; it was a perpetual delight to him to sit by his fireside and hurl reasonings good and bad at those near, anything so as to rouse discussion ; to attack his brother’s weak points, deride military matters, so as to excite his attention and provoke a reply. He inveighed against Dr. Slop’s religion, to induce him to stand up for his church and its followers. He had such a skirmishing, cutting kind of a slash- ing way with him in his disputations (says Sterne), thrusting and ripping, and giving every one a stroke to remember him by in his turn; that if there were twenty people in company, in less than half-an-hour he was sure to have every one against him. If there was one post more untenable than the rest, he would be-sure to throw himself in, and there he would defend it so gallantly that it would have been difficult to turn him out. His learned talk contrasts skilfully with the simplicity of his brother, the captain, who knows no books but the Bible and military treatises, and who never can join in conversation with the scholar unless some military phrase happen to be jintro- 14 duced. Mr. Shandy was a man of many theories ; one of them was that a man’s conduct was influenced by his name ; and of all names Tristram was the most odious. Another great idea of Mr. Shandy’s was the importance of the nose, and Tristram’s being broken in early life, his father regarded him as utterly ruined. The mother is the opposite of the father; she has no taste for philosophy, admits everything, questions nothing, asks for no explanations, believes everything told her, has no will of her own, yields to all Mr. Shandy’s arguments without hesitation ; she never refused her assent or consent to any proposition her husband laid before her. She contented herself with doing all that ber godfathers and godmothers had promised for her, and no more. This was very annoying to the gentleman, who found all his finest chains of areument useless. ‘‘ That she is not a clever woman is her misfortune,”’ said he, ‘‘ but she might ask a question.” Mr. Ward continued to tell the story in Sterne’s own words, showing both the humorous and sombre sides of the characters with which he had to deal, and concluded with the recitation of the story of Le Fevre. CHURCH BELLS. By the Rev. B. WINFIELD, B.A., Vicar of St. James’s, Burnley. January 22nd, 1889. The lecturer prefaced his remarks with an account of the passages in Scripture in which allusions were made to the use of bells in worship, and then proceeded, «The invention of the modern bell is traditionally assigned to Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, in Campania, Italy, about the year 400, A.D. The only fact certain is that bells were first manu- factured and brought into use for the Latin Church in the district of Campania, whence the name ‘‘ Campana ’”’ was given to the bell, and the science of ringing was called campanalogia, Anglicised campanology. The Venerable Bede states that church bells were found in England at the end of the 7th century. In fact, we may say that our church bells and our nation and language are coeval with each other, for it was the introduction of Christianity among our Saxon forefathers which was mainly instrumental in uniting the several hostile tribes into the one na- tion of England, and with Christianity came churches and church bells.” ‘* At the Reformation, the bells were not disregarded in the general scramble for the spoils on the part of Henry VIII. and his courtiers ; however they survived, nor did their glories pass away.’ ‘The science of rging commences with the reign of Charles II., when Fabian Steadman, a printer, published in 15 1668, ‘‘ Campanalogia, or the Art of Ringing,” the first work ever composed on change-ringing. Lord Brereton, Sir Cliff Clifton and others founded the band of change ringers known as the Society of College Youths, which still exists in full vigour among us. It was to this society that Steadman presented in M.S. his arrangement for ringing the bells in musical order, known, after the composer, as Steadman’s principle. This principle the society first applied to the bells of St. Benet’s, Cambridge, and afterwards to the Church on College Hill, London, from which the society derived its name of College Youths, and which was destroyed in the great fire in 1666. In the reign of Charles II. round wheels were introduced, and the power thus conferred soon made it apparent that a series of bells might be rung in time and tune with musical effect. This fact led to the science of change ringing. The progress made from this point was very rapid. The art of ringing became a fashionable pursuit, and was cultivated with such marked success as to gain for our country the title of the ‘‘ Ringing Island.” “‘ Bell-metal is composed of copper and tin in the proportion of 18 parts of the former to 4 of the latter. Founders add small quantities of other metals, varying with different firms. The worth of bell-metal at the present time, when copper is quoted at £4 3s. per cwt., and tin at £5 8s. per cwt., is about £4 10s. per cwt. The cost of casting is half that amount. An ordinary peal of 6 bells weighs about 44 cwt. A complete octave, such as that of St. Peter’s, Burnley, which weighs 72cwt., (the tenor, i.e., the largest bell, being nearly 17cwt., and the treble, i.e., the smallest, being nearly 6cewt.), is approximately worth £500. The new peal at Holy Trinity Church, Habergham Eaves, weighs 55ewt., the tenor and treble being respectively 1l4cwt. and 4icwt. ‘Lhe estimated cost is £370, in addition to carriage, &c., which brings the cost up to £560. The St. Peter’s peal was put up by Mr. 'T. Mears, of Whitechapel, one of our most celebrated founders, in 1803. The Holy Trinity Church bells are by Gillett and Bland, Croydon, the makers of the clock and chimes at the Manchester Town Hall. The tenor, largest bell, is the key note of a major diatonic, i.e., the ordinary scale, and the other bells form the successive notes ot the ascending scale.” BELL FOUNDING. ‘Bells are made much in the same way that other instruments are moulded, by getting a clay-model hardened to the exact shape and size of the inside of the bell, another to those of the outside, and letting the molten metal run from the top into the space left between them. More in detail, the process is com- monly this: A stake is placed upright in a large pit; a cone of bricks is built around it and covered with soft clay. Sometimes an iron cone is used in place of the brick. The clay is moulded 16 to the form of the inside of the bell by means of a wooden frame revolving on the post, and called a sweep or crook. The clay is then hardened by fire placed within the cone. The dried clay, now called core, is greased and sprinkled with tan to prevent anything adhering, and covered with a powdery clay to about the thickness to be occupied by the intended bell. This triable clay is trimmed to the size and form of the outside of the bell by means of another revolving sweep or crook. The surface is then covered with well tempered clay, held more tenaciously together by hair, or hay, and sometimes iron bands worked in, and hardened by fire as before. This outside hardened clay, styled cope, becomes sufficiently solid to be lifted up in one mass by means of a crane. The powdery clay around the core is scraped carefully off, and the cope let down again. A hollow is now left between the outside cope, and the inside core. The molten metal is let flow in from above to fill up the space, which, of course, exactly forms the bell, except for the head fittings, which are added afterwards. An iron cope is now fre- quently employed, its inner surface being covered with clay, which is shaped by an inside sweep to the form of the exterior of the bell. In this case there is no friable clay to be knocked away. After some days allowed for cooling the cope is taken from the outside and the bellraised aloft. Itis tested by tapping to see if it is without flaw and of the precise pitch required. The frame-work for its manufacture has been calculated to secure this latter condition, but in case it should be too sharp a little of the surface is taken off the inside of the sound bow by means of a revolving shutter. This scraping enlarges the circumference, and therefore depresses the note. If the bell, on the other hand, is flat, the note is raised by cutting round below the rim so as to reduce the diameter of the bell at the mouth. In mathematical phraseology the pitch of the bell varies directly as the square of the thickness and inversely as the diameter. The note can therefore be raised by increasing the thickness of the bell or decreasing the diameter. If the same proportion between the thickness and the diameter be kept to in the case of each bell of an octave the diameters of the bells will be in the proportion of 60, 534, 48, 45, 40, 36, 82, 80, which represent the proportionate length of the waye sound in the several notes of the ordinary ascending scale.” ‘‘Bells are usually adorned with one or more inscriptions of the following nature—(1) the name of the bell, (2) the name of the founder, churchwarden, or donor, (8) the founder’s crest or trade-mark, (4) a distinctive motto.’”’ The Lecturer gave many instances of such mottoes. Among them were the following bad examples : ey At proper times my voice I’ll raise, And sound to my subscribers’ praise.—(Buxted.) All you of Bath that hear me sound, Thank Lady Hopton’s £100.—(Bath Abbey.) I’m given here to make a peal, And sound the praise of Mary Neal.—(Alderton.) I am the first, although but small ; I will be heard above you all.-- (Devizes, St. Mary.) Be strong in faith, praise God well, Frances, Countess Hertford’s bell.—(Amesbury.) John Martin, of Worcester, has made wee, Be it known to all that do we see.—(Hambleton, Worcester.) “The art of ringing requires skill rather than strength. The bell revolves, not from the force supplied by the ringer, but by its own weight. St. Saviour’s Church, Southwark, has a tenor bell of 52cwt., with a diameter of three yards, yet it is rung often by the same man for four hours without stopping. On one occasion one man rung it for 6} hours continuously, but this performance may fairly rank as a feat. There are six stages to be gone through by a learner, 1st, to set a bell already raised ; 2nd, to obtain dexterity in the first process, so as to have full control of the bell, and be able to let it fall or set as he pleases, and thus be prepared to follow in order some other ; 3rd, practice in raising or letting fall the bell by gradually shortening or lengthening the rope in hand, as the case may be; 4th, taking part with the other ringers in ringing straight down the scale. This is called ringing rounds; Sth, to study from diagrams and practice on handbells the order in which the bells have to follow each other ; 6th, to apply the change-ringing in the belfry.” ‘With an inexperienced or clumsy ringer it does happen some- times that the bell is worked so violently that the striking of stay against slider breaks one or both, and the bell, instead of restraining its course, turns a somersault, winds up the rope with itself, and, not unfrequently, the ringer with the rope. In addition to temporary strangulation, broken bones, or concussion of the brain, the unhappy ringer has to pay the penalty of a fine for his culpable clumsiness.” Mr. Winfield concluded by arguing for the beneficial effect of change-ringing in influencing the longevity of ringers, instancing the case of Giles Mansfield, of Stroud. On May 5th, 1817, he with 9 others rang at Painswick a true and complete touch of Grandsire Caters containing 12,312 changes, in 7 hours 44 minutes. Hesays in his account, ‘ The affair was advertised in a good many newspapers, and it drew thousands of people from all parts. It was thought there were 10,000 people in the churchyard when we had done, and a great deal of money 18 changed hands, and a band of music played us from the church.” Giles Mansfield died in April, 1889, in his ninety-eighth year, and the average age at death of these ten men who took part in the performance in Painswick belfry was close upon 80. THE SMOKE NUISANCE. By HERBERT FLETCHER. January 29th, 1889. Whenever the name of England was mentioned abroad, the idea of a smoky atmosphere was given, and the apology was generally found in the fact that England lives by her manufac- tures and her commerce, and that it brings us wealth. The pestilential atmosphere of old times, due to insanitary conditions, bad sewerage, and crowded streets, and disadvantage of bad paving, had been done away with, but the smoke nuisance had increased in a greater ratio. When the old exterior furnaces of boilers went out they began to be troubled with smoke. There was a kind of smoke preventer used with the external furnaces, but, when the new internal furnaces were introduced, it was stated that the contrivance could not be used on account of the cramped furnaces. The lecturer explained the invention of Mr. Vicars, of Harlstown, the improvements made upon it, and his own modification of these improvements in the apparatus he had patented. He then enumerated a number of inventions to pre- vent smoke, including that of Mr. Proctor, of Burnley, and proceeded, In considering the smoke nuisance they ought to remember that the quantity of smoke was not estimated by its density ; it should be estimated by its continuity as much as by its density. Many of the mechanical stokers preduced a continuous stream of light smoke which inflicted a greater injury on the neighbour- hood than those which caused a heavy cloud of smoke for a very short time and then ceased. At Bolton light smoke was con- sidered equally a breach of the law with dense smoke, one minute of dense being counted as the equivalent of four minutes of moderately light. Passing on to the health question more in detail, the lecturer quoted the opinion of Sir Andrew Clark and other eminent authorities, and dealt with the theory that the destruction of smoke was necessarily followed by the production of obnoxious and poisonous vapours, a theory which had been exploded as folly by eminent scientists, but which the lecturer believed was the great shield under which those who made smoke protected themselves when they were accused of making much smoke. In Bolton they had had to fight on the Council 19 and in the Police Courts until they got a Magisterial Order against a firm to prevent the smoke nuisance on their works. They had tried the laissez faire system in Bolton and it would not do. Experiments had been tried to reduce the smoke by letting in air at the bridge, the sides, and the front, and he found that Mr. Cass, of Bolton, had made such apparatus for several firms, and that apparatus he (the lecturer) now used. He had three fires making no smoke, and they were being hand fired. The apparatus was suitable for internal fire boilers. He had used it for 10 years, and he asked people to go and see it for themselves, for it was a success. One practical means of smoke abatement could be found in the “ split bridge,’ a contrivance which admitted the air to the furnace at the bridge, but to com- plete the contrivance they needed a mechanical stoker. The general result of his own experience was that he was getting better firing now than he was when he had hand stoking, and he could use much inferior coal, and coal with which he could not keep steam up by hand-firing. He also used much less fuel. Mr. Fletcher quoted a section of the Public Health Act bearing on the smoke question, and said that the sole object of the Act was to protect the community ; they could not expect a public authority to take disagreeable action except they were pushed forward by public opinion or private claims; lhe advised the sending of a letter to the Sanitary Committee pointing out their failure to do their duty. They could not pretend to knock down the nuisance without someone sacrificing himself a bit. He did not think they ought to be hindered in their action by being told that it was not economical, and he did not think they ought to allow the many to suffer to save a few. If they did their duty by carrying out the law, they could have an atmos- phere every day as good as it was in the country town before manufactories came up. The discussion was opened by Councillor Lancaster, who said that one half the gentlemen present were owners of long chimneys, and were very much interested in the practical appli- cation of that question. Many of them had tried different means to prevent the smoke nuisance, and if Mr. Fletcher had enlight- ened them more distinctly as to the nature of his stoker and the means of doing away with the smoke it would have been of more advantage to them. Slow combustion would reduce the quantity of smoke, but many of their mills were situated in streets where land was valuable and to enlarge the boiler-house would be a serious and expensive process. The boiler accommodation throughout the town was too small and limited; in some in- stances an extra boiler or two would be of great advantage. There was no one more desirous of abating the nuisance, if the nuisance could be abated with economy, than the manufacturers 20 of Burnley. He was not defending the manufacturers, but he contended that the Health Committee ought to obtain all the information they possibly could on the matter before they began issuing summonses broadcast. The manufacturers would only be too delighted to fall in with any suggestion the Health Com- mittee might make in regard to the abatement of smoke. Mr. Fletcher hereupon explained the workings of his stoker. Mr. Thompson said the stoker which Mr. Fletcher had spoken about was very similar to one made by a Mr. McDougall, a noted chemist, who spent a great deal of time and money in order to perfect that method of mechanical stoking. The stokers on the plan were almost identical with McDougall’s. His (Mr. Thompson’s) experience was not confined to one colliery or one class of coal, but it was found in most cases that the stoker was a failure. In Burnley they were at a disadvantage as compared with Bolton, Wigan and Yorkshire. Burnley coal had more bitumen in it, and a stoker such as had been described would be impracticable. Mr. Rawlinson said that until smoke could be consumed economically, they would never get the evil entirely remedied. Mr. Fletcher had not addressed himself to the question of the consumption of smoke economically. Liverpool was a smokeless town but they did not find the health of the people improve compared with the smoky Lancashire towns. ‘The death rate of Liverpool (31), was very considerably above the death rate of Burnley (25), although the latter was a smoking town. The stoker Mr. Fletcher had used could not have been as great a success as he represented it to be, or else it would have been more used. In reply the lecturer said the putting in of his apparatus would not require more boiler room. It would do more work and con- sume less coal. This epitome of the lecture and the discussion has been abbre- viated from the account given in the Burnley Gazette of Wed- nesday, Jan. 30. THE PSYCHOLOGY OF MEMORY. By the REV. M. MAHER, S.J., M.A. February 5th, 1889. The psychologist seeks to analyse the phenomena of the mind, and to establish the character of the principle from which they flow. Memory involves three elements—the act of retention in the mind of past experiences or events, the act of reproduction in consciousness, and the act of recognition—so that memory is the faculty by which we retain, reproduce, and recognise our 21 experiences of the past. The memory does not act in a casual or arbitrary manner, but is subject to laws. The laws of the associa- tion of ideas are three in number, and are known as those of con- tiguity, similarity, and contrast. On each of these laws the lecturer dwelt at length, commenting on their cognitional and emotional importance, that is to say, on their importance as giving know- ledge, and as giving pleasure or pain. Under the head of association by contiguity the force of local associations was referred to, and he observed how pleasant memories often hung round an event, as fragrance clung to the vessel in which flowers had been left. The charm of the name ‘‘home”’ and the potency of “country” were skilfully touched upon, and then Mr. Maher proceeded to point out how the law of association by similarity was of great importance as promoting the perfecting of knowledge. The pleasures of science, art, and literature were due to that law, and under each of these departments the lecturer gave apt illustrations. Under the head of literature, Milton was quoted as one whose writings were made more powerful by his use of similarities, as when he spoke of the con- dition of the fallen angels ‘thick as autumnal leaves.” Shakespeare was rich in these similes, and Burns was likewise happy in his use of the law. The emotional importance of the third law, that of contrast, was dealt with, and illustrations were again drawn from Shakespeare, who revelled in the power of contrast. In the masters of wit and humour, and in the utterances of statesmen we often found effective use made of contrasts. Mr. Maher next addressed himself to the considera- tion of the nature of retention. There were three views: one adopted by Sir William Hamilton, described as the ultra-spiritual view, maintained that the problem can be solved only by attrib- uting it to the mind. The second theory was known as the physical one, and explained the memory by traces on the brain— the arguments used in favour of this view were stated, and it was made clear that there was some connection between the brain and the memory. The third view, which was the one adopted by the lecturer was of an intermediate character. He maintained that the memory could not be accounted for only by the disposition of the brain. It was at least open to doubt how the memory could be retained during the complete change which physiologists admitted periodically took place in the body. The great difficulty, however, was in accounting for recognition. The physical theory could not account for the fact that we recognize the present as identical with the past. The memory implies that there is something permanent, which retains past experieuces and identifies the present with them. The lecture, the account of which we have taken from the Burnley Express, was marked by close reasonings, and by abundance and beauty of illustration. 22 LE MONT-DORE. By J. DILWORTH HARRISON, February 12th, 1889. Le Mont-Dore, the French Sanatorium for asthma and bronchial weakness, is situated in the heart of the Auvergne Mountains, some 250 miles due South of Paris, equi-distant between the Bay of Biscay and the Italian frontier. The valley in which it les,some 8,500 feet above the sea, is terminated three miles beyond by the Pic-de-Sancy, which rises steeply to the height of 6,190 feet. Both sides of the valley are precipitous, though zig-zag footpaths enable one to ascend at various points. The general character of the scenery is volcanic. The inhabit- ants of this village-town earn most of their income during the two months of the bathing season, July and August; for though the Paris-Orleans Railway puts on two through trains to Laqueuille per day from June 18th to September 9th, few patients go on the first day, andall wish to leave when September begins. ‘The railway journey from Kygurande to Laqueuille is interesting, passing up a very narrow picturesque valley, which a roaring torrent crosses frequently. At Laqueuille the train is left, A very good breakfast or dinner is served here; and then the journey is completed by a drive of 15kil. in a large omnibus with a 2nd storey, drawn by four horses, while the registered luggage goes in a covered railway van. The road mounts nearly all the way to Mont-Dore, which is reached about nine o’clock, 12 hours after leaving Paris. The daily course of baths is as follows :—Having visited your medical adviser, (of whom there are 13), you purchase the tickets for the baths he has ordered, together with a flannel suit con- sisting of a jacket with a cowl, and a pair of trousers and stockings combined, also a pair of wooden sabots, the tops covered with thin leather. Your bonne will get these for you, and considers it dead robbery if you buy them without her agency. Next morning you wake about four o'clock with ‘‘ the clang of the wooden shoon,”’ the trot-trot of people to the baths, which close at nine a.m. Having dressed in the new flannels and ‘‘oaloshes”’ or sabots, and wrapped up in top coat and muffler you walk to the Source Mudeleine and quaff half a glass, and then mount the stone staircase to the first class douches, having reserved a room the previous day fora given time. An attendant opens the dressing-room furnished with a carpet, a leather covered lounge arm-chair, a second chair, looking glass, ete., making it look very snug. The inner room contains a full-sized long bath 28 with jets for needle and douche. The attendant half fills the bath, turns on the needle, and says he will come in 12 minutes, but forgets. The needle hits you on chest, back, and everywhere. You weary of it, and at last call in desperation through the outer door for towels, which then come piping hot. Into your flannels and clogs again, and enter a ‘‘ chaise 4 porteurs,’” like a white coffin on end with two side shafts. Two porteurs in blue blouses and trousers, black caps and sabots, close the door, carry you at a trot down the staircase, give you half a glass of water, and rush across the sqnare and up the other stairs to the respiration rooms. In the first, all but a singlet trousers and clogs are left. Then you enter the first of the steam rooms through an iron door ; volumes of steam ascend from vapourisers at either end. Common wooden chairs are about. At first the novelty of the scene interests you. Round the rooms with measured tread move the bathers. All sorts of faces and constitutions ; some very old, others children, others apparently finely built young men, all bent on securing greater ease in respiration. Some look almost hopeless, as after a wretched night they hang over the backs of chairs gasping for breath, that even now comes more easily in the hot steamy atmosphere. Some, the new comers, walk with a firm step, but most slouch along with head bent and shoulders rounded. Nearly all have a towel with which they seek to dry their persons from time to time. Some try to read, but like chairs and everything else, the windows are covered with steam, and admit but a dim light. The chairs are constantly used by those whose treatment has lasted some days and who consequently feel the lassitude which follows. As a very similar costume is worn by all, slowly pacing round the rooms in comparative silence, with gloomy looks, downcast heads, and confined by the iron doors, you fancy you look like a gang of con- victs taking exercise. The first few visits to these steam rooms last only 40 minutes, soon to be increased to one hour. When your time is up, you dress, enter a “chaise”? and are carried down the stairs to the Source for another half glass en route to your hotel; where your bed is quickly warmed with a bassinoire by the bonne, and in youjump. The doctors insist on your going to bed to ensure your gradually cooling after the baths. Café com- plet is soon served, and after a rest, up and dress for the ‘“ gar- garisme’’ in the portico at 10a.m. An old woman fills a glass at the stone basin of the Spring of César water, with a long- handled ladle, and passes it to you. You join two others at a basin fixed to the wall. Then having filled the mouth with water and thrown the head back, gargle, gargle, gargle, till the ridiculousness of the position of all three suddenly strikes you ; when you burst into a laugh, choke with half the water, and splutter the rest out into the floor. When the whole glass is 24 finished you can stroll into the Park till 10-45, when innumer- able bells summon all to Table d’hote breakfast in the various hotels. The afternoon till 4 p.m. is passed variously, in some of the charming mountain walks, or a visit to the Casino for coffee and a smoke, (with the English and Foreign papers in the upper rooms fox subscribers), or a ride or drive. By-the-bye, the rides and drives have to be bargained for in the square every morning, and fluctuate immensely in price, as the demand is likely to be greater or less. A donkey for 7fes. per day, a horse about 10fes, and a 2-horse carriage anything up to 50fes. including the driver ; are about the rates. ‘This latter is for a long day’s drive. At 4 p.m. you take a warm foot bath at the Etablissement. Two baths side by side, are sunk in the floor in each room. You join a stranger. Each patient does not get fresh water, but the water is constantly flowing very slowly, and a large wooden paddle is supplied, to enable the more fastidious to skim it. You skim, and meditate. After a 6 minutes bath, another half glass of water down stairs ends one day’s treatment. A good table d’hote dinner at 5-45, with coffee at the Casino, and after this the Theatre, is the usual routine. The treatment does not exceed three weeks, but this appears long enough to all bathers, for though the country is interesting, the four hours in the afternoon do not permit of distant excursions ; the shorter ones have been done, and the constant succession of warm and hot water treat- ment in varying forms, produces a physical weakness, to which there is no tonic but the air. So great is this lassitude that after the first half of the treatment, patients little incline to do more than stroll and rest. The climate varies with great rapidity. Visitors should have some very warm clothing, for though hot one day, it may be abominably cold the next. Never to go out after dinner without a muffler over the mouth and throat, is one of the most necessary things to remember. Another is, never to take a bedroom on the ground floor. I have always stayed at the Hotel Sarciron Rainaldy. It is the largest, and Mr. Sarciron keeps to an arrangement. The bougies and service are charged 25fes. on leaving, and you are expected to distribute a somewhat similar sum in fees. The best Guide Book to the district is ‘‘ Le Mont-Dore,’ by P. Joanne, one of the Guides Diamants of Hachette, Paris. Itis written in French and is the cheapest. 25 MONASTIC INSTITUTIONS OF THE MIDDLE AGES. By the Rev. J, 8S. DOXEY, February 19th, 1889. The essayist in describing the Institutions of the Middle Ages with religious organisations at their head said it was not his wish nor should it be his effort to defend them, or on the other hand to speak of them with an unfriendly prejudice, but simply to endeavour to describe them as they were. He was induced to do this as notwithstanding our advancement in learning and science, und the multiplicity of books and information, it was surprising how little was known by the generality of people of the History of Monasticism, of the various Orders, or of the progress and fortunes of even one Religious House. For instance, many persons visiting Whalley and seeing the Parish Church whole and in a good state of preservation, and the Abbey close by with portions in a state of ruin, had in his hearing expressed an opinion that the Abbey must be much older than the Parish Church, whereas when the Monks migrated from Stanlawe in Cheshire, a place near the entrance to the Manchester Ship Canal, some considerable part of the present Parish Church building, not to speak of an earlier Saxon one, had been in existence at least a hundred years. The Religious Houses, he went on to point out, occupy so important a position in medieval society that they cannot be overlooked by the historical student, and in these days when we are able, through the facilities afforded by railways and the kind- ness of owners, to visit the ruins of Abbeys and Priories, many of them situated in beautiful localities where wood and dale predominate, such a subject, he felt, must be interesting to the tourist who visits such places, and to the members of the Club. After speaking of the rise of Monasticism in Egypt and its spread to the East and thence to the West, he said that at a very early period in our own country there were monasteries and schools of learning, some of these of large extent, for Bede tells us that there were no less than two thousand one hundred monks in the monastic establishment at Bangor alone. There were in the Middle Ages four principal Religious Orders, the Benedictines, the Cluniacs, the Carthusians, and the Cistercians. Of the foundation and distinctive features of each of these orders he spoke in turn. ‘The vows taken in most cases were those of obedience, poverty and chastity, and in some cases manual labour also, but as they became popular and wealth flowed into their coffers and so their influence increased, they 26 in most cases became lax in the observance of the rules of their order, and worldly-minded. Hence sprang a succession of reformed orders, just as Wesleyanism arose when the Church of England had lost in so many places its spirituality. The Abbeys and Priories whose ruins we are delighted to visit were the result of private munificence, the founders being chiefly wealthy landowners. Some were built for the glorification of God or some patron saint, some in fulfilment of a vow, some as an expiation of some crime, some in the hope that the founders’ lives might be preserved whilst fighting abroad, some as a dedi- cation of their wealth to God in the absence of heirs to succeed, but all with a sense of satisfaction that the good work performed by them might propitiate God and secure the salvation of their own souls and the souls of their ancestors and descendants. The bodies of the founder and of the various members of his family were buried within the precincts of the abbey, and obits and masses for their repose occupied much of the attention of the religious fraternity from year to year. This being so, when walking through the ruins of some mouldering abbey, the intelli- gent visitor must feel the vanity of human life and hopes, At Whalley Abbey the outlines of this once spacious monastic church can barely be traced, whilst not a vestige remains to shew where founders or abbots lie buried. Stanlawe Abbey, the parent of Whalley Abbey, was in exist- ence about a hundred years before the migration of the monks to Whalley. Of the important and complete monastery of Stanlawe little remains, and what remains, an old doorway or window, will soon pass away, if it has not already, and still within the walls would be buried the remains of founders and benefactors, and a long line of abbots and monks. The Essayist then went on to give a description of the Friars, the Augustinian Monks and Collegiate Bodies, Male and Female Recluses and the various Military Orders, as also the Hospitals and Leper Houses, and in doing so verified his remarks by giving historical incidents in connection with the Abbeys of Furness, Salley, Whalley and Stanlawe, Bolton Priory, the Hospital at Ribchester, and the Leper Hospital at Edisford, near Clitheroe. He coneluded by saying that however widely the religious Opinions of most of us may differ from the tenets of those who built them, and as to the good or evils of the system, and though we may feel that such institutions are unsuited to the present age we shall do well to remember that they had much that was good and beneficial to humanity, agriculture and art, for besides succouring the poor and befriending tlie labourer, they were the nurseries of learning and had undoubtedly as their primary object the physical, moral and religious improve- 27 ment of mankind. That there were evils and abuses it is not to be denied, but these, so far from being necessarily incorporated with the monastic system, were violently opposed to that system in its early and pure state. When they existed their source is to be traced to that deeply-seated propensity to evil which is inherent in our fallen nature. On the table of the Lecture Room was placed a model of Whalley Abbey as it was in the days of Abbot Paslew, carefully executed by Mr. Doxey from measurements and drawings by Mr. Angelo Waddington. This was explained in detail, and added much to the interest of the paper. THE NECESSITY FOR AN HOSPITAL FOR INFECTIOUS DISEASES IN BURNLEY. By JAMES MACKENZIE, M.D. March 5th, 1889. If we take that branch of science which consists of the study of disease as affecting mankind, we find that our ideas of the cause of many diseases have undergone a complete reformation within recent years. This is particularly the case in that large section which comes under the head of ‘ Infectious” or “ Con- tagious ”’ diseases. While in a measure the dangers attending these diseases have long been appreciated yet the nature of the danger has remained a mystery, and, indeed, it in many cases still remains a mystery. Nevertheless, the specific elements of contagious diseases in a few cases have been determined, and by analogy the nature of many other diseases has been inferred. Practical application following upon this inference has so far resulted in such success that we are in a great degree enabled to cope with these diseases, and knowing wherein our danger lies to prepare a strong defence. It is my purpose to point out to you the dangers to which we are exposed, the dangers from which we suffer, the effectual means we have in our power for combating those dangers, and the stolid indiffer- ence with which we neglect to benefit by the knowledge we possess. There is a class of diseases from which mankind suffers, which are spread from one individual to another. There is a material which is capable of inducing a disease, when it obtains entry into a person susceptible. If any one individual should live in such a place and manner so that he is never brought into contact with such infectious material he will not be attacked by infectious diseases. Each disease propagates its own kind, that, 28 and no cther. What the nature of the disease-giving material may be—whether chemical or vital, I do not intend to discuss to-night. Suffice it to say that from the facts, that it is possible to destroy it by means of substances that poison low forms of life, and that certain diseases are capable of being set up by a few known low forms of life, there is good reason “for supposing that the disease-giving matter takes the form of a lowly organism or germ. In order the more fully to appreciate the necessity for the plea for an Infectious Hospital that Iam to put forward to- night, I will give an account of the life history, as shewn in its attack on the human system, of one of these diseases. For that purpose I will choose the disease of Scarlet Fever or Scarlatina, inasmuch as its infectious matter is the most subtle, the most persistent and practically the most dangerous with which we have to contend. A person who has been exposed to its influence or contagion, in one of the innumerable and incomprehensible ways in which the infection is spread, will feel nothing the matter with him for a few days, or it may be a week. Then he will feel hot and cold by turns, shortly becoming very hot, gets sick with head- ache and sore throat. After a day or two of this condition a bright red rash breaks out over the body which again in a few days disappears, and if the case be a favourable one all the other symptoms disappear likewise. For the next six or seven weeks the skin peels off, in some places as fine powder, in others in flakes large or small. While such may be a succinct account of some cases there are many kinds of divergence from this. In a few the disease is so violent and so virulent that the person is killed after a few hours irom the onset, and it is difficult then to recog- nise what is the nature of the terrible disease. In others the disease from the onset gradually intensifies in severity, unyield- ing to all treatment till death ensues. In others, again, the throat mischief is a great source of danger and of suffering, and many are afflicted with other forms of danger, as inflammation and eathering in the ears, inflammation of the kidneys, rheumatism, &e., whereby, although recovery may take place, permanent damage is done to the constitution. Such things as these are of daily occurrence in your midst, and although the means of pre- vention are largely in your own hands, yet practically no step is taken to check the ravages of such calamities. The recital of the dangers does not end here. From the time the individual begins to get ill until the skin has completely peeled off him he is in a highly infectious state. So subtle is this infectious matter that in spite of all precautions it is difficult to feel assured that, unless isolated, the disease may not spread. Anything he touches, or anything that touches him, unless sub- ject to most rigid disinfection is apt to convey disease. The 29 very air of the room in which he lies may be laden with poison. The garments of those that attend on him become saturated with infection, and their association in these clothes with others is apt to disseminate it. Naturally you will say there are a great number of materials, solid, liquid, and gaseous, which we have been taught to believe were invaluable for the prevention of such diseases. And no doubt there are, but then everything depends on the way they are used. Asa matter of fact disinfectants, as commonly used, serve two purposes, the first, as a rule, ineffectual, the destruc- tion of infectious matter, and the second, as a rule, very effectual, the satisfaction of many minds in imagining that the infection is being thoroughly destroyed. For in the vast majority of cases it is but the allaying of fears and the neglect of danger. It is beautiful to see the trust most people repose in the distribution of saucers full of Condy’s fluid. Thereby, as they fondly imagine, the foul enemy of infection is exorcised. Truly the few germs that may tumble into the saucer may possibly not survive. Or again, if the disinfecting agent be possessed of more aggressive qualities and manifest its presence by disagreeable smells, thereby upsetting the digestion of all and sundry, surely it is reasoned such powerful odours that affect us so much must to a certainty destroy those excessively minute beings whose corporeal structure is invisible to us. Then there are the class of minds who believe in potency of sweet smelling sub- stances, and think that in the fumes of perfumed pastilles there lurks the deadly poison for invisible germs. But, alas, all is vanity. I wish to enforce upon you the tact that all disinfectants must be of a considerable strength before they become operative. Because a room may smell strongly of many of the volatile dis- infectants, be it chloride of lime, carbolic acid or sulphurous acid, it is insufficient for the destruction of these infecting germs. The odour from any volatile substance rapidly diffuses through the air, although the amount actually used is infinitesimal. It follows therefore that the patient and the room in spite of all precautions must always be in a highly infectious condition. The methods commonly employed in houses to meet the difficulties in such cases are as follows: A room is selected at the top of the house—an attic preferably. A curtain is hung outside the door kept saturated with some disinfecting material, in order that the air, which may at times escape from the room, may be roughly filtered. The room is stripped of all objects save those of actual necessity, and those that are left must be capable of sustaining great heat either in a hot chamber or by boiling. The patient must be attended on by one who does not mix with other members of the family, aud who when she goes out should 30 change her clothes. The food should be brought to the door and left outside, and practically all communication with other members of the household stopped. During convalescence the whole body should be anointed with an oil twice daily in order that the peeling skin may adhere to the clothes and not float about in the air. When the peeling is completed the patient should be bathed and put into clean clothes outside the room. All clothing that can be boiled is steeped in water containing some disinfectant. Mattresses and such like removed and sub- jected to a temperature of at least 240°. The room closed and sulphur burnt, whereupon the air becomes laden with the poisonous fumes of sulphurous acid. The paper on the wall should be scraped, and the whole woodwork washed. Such is shortly the means which must be employed if a patient is to be treated successfully in his own home. These and many other minor directions must be carried out with the utmost strictness, as the neglect of a single simple precaution may result in failure and the spread of the disease. The vast majority of the cases of Scarlet Fever occur in houses where such rigid precautions are out of the question. Consider the case of a working man’s cottage; his large family and few rooms; the danger to all the children; the saturation with the poison of the clothing of all the other inhabitants ; in many cases the children that are well attending school, or attending while yet they or their clothes are in a highly infectious condi- tion. What avails though the schoolroom be smoked, scrubbed and whitewashed. A sense of security may be imparted to minds easily satisfied with some such endeavour. But the danger is unseen, and all the more to be dreaded because unseen. Then the parents attend their work clad in the garments which they wear while nursing their infectious children. Brought as they are into contact in the shop, in the street, in the mill with others, can you wonder at the spread of infection ? Supposing strict means are adopted by these people to prevent the spread of infection— and I must say many are anxious and willing so to do, what is the result 2? A wage earner has to stop work to nurse. The child is placed in the smallest and most unhealthy room, and kept there for six or seven weeks. How can such a child with success pull through a dangerous illness and a wearing con- valescence under such adverse circumstances? Then after taking these precautions, which are often in vain—one or more of the children take ill and are nursed in the already over- stocked chamber and their chances of recovery are distinctly lessened. How difficult it is for the mother and father to sub- mit to this seclusion and the incurring of this extra danger in order to safeguard the public, I leave it to you to imagine. Many do it, and ill-health to their children is the result. I ask 81 you is it not cruel thus to condemn the conscientious to suffer, while the indifferent are regardless of the common danger, but actually benefit by their indifference ? It is not as if we were powerless in the matter. Were that the case then resignation might be befitting. But when the prompt removal of the child would prevent the further spread of the disease, nay, even stamp out the disease, and when the child itself would be placed under circumstances and conditions infinitely more favourable for recovery, then it behoves us to see if we are right in neglecting our duty in this matter. From what I have said you will be able to gather the prin- ciple that should underlie the treatment and management of an epidemic of any infectious disease. These are :— 1st —The early isolation of the individual attacked, in order to prevent the spread of the disease. 2nd.—The placing the infected individual in such cireum- stances as will promote his recovery, while the risks of com- munication are diminished. 3rd.—The destruction of infectious material, from whatever source it may arise. These conditions can only be fulfilled in a Hospital, with com- plete success. List or Inrectious Disease Cases 1n BurnuEy Reporrep In 1885-6-7-8. Date. Small Pox. Beret ie ees aoe Typhoid Total. 1885. Quarter ending | | March 25th.. a 54 1 1 33 89 June 25th .. 8 41 | 2 | 29 80 Sept. 25th ..| 6 72 2 ae 101 Dec. 25th 1 154 2 14 171 1886. —15 321 —7 =| —97 —441 March 25th. . 1 99 1 11 112 June 25th ..| ate 107 2 10 119 Sept. 25th .. site 240 1 1 8 250 Dec. 25th.... Be, 247 20 pa | 14 281 1887. —1 ——693 —24 —1 | —43 —§ 762 March 25th. . xe 99 | 5 1 7 112 June 25th .. a 86 3 6 95 Sept. 25th .. is 122 3 11 136 Dec. 25th.... we 172 22 3 | 24 221 | 1888. —_— — 479 —_--33 —4 —48 — 564 March 25th.. 6 98 5 12 121 June 25th... 2 148 5 17 172 Sept. 25th .. 3 281 5 27 316 Dec. 25th.... ee 324 | 6 1 18 349 —l1 | ——81|; —#21 —1 —-74 —— 958 27 23441 85 7 262 2725 32 THE DEAN AND THE BEGGAR: AN INCIDENT OF BURNLEY CHURCHYARD. By JAS. McK AY, F'.R.Hist.S. March 12th, 1889. On July 26th, 1569, Dean Nowell gave a poor impotent beggar a groat in Burnley churchyard. On this incident Mr. McKay founded an interesting lecture on the condition of Burnley at the time, the story of Dean Nowell, and the laws relating to pauperism. He said, The churchyard then in all probability was open to the green fields, quite unenclosed, with views which stretched away with- out interruption to the hills that encircled the little town on every side. The struggling cluster of houses along the rough unpaved road which was all that represented the town of Burn- ley at that time had taken a very long time to bring together. There certainly were not more than 250 families in the whole township, and it had taken the whole era from the Saxon Con- quest to bring that collection of little homesteads together. Looking round the churchyard the Dean would see the embryo Grammar School and would recall his nephew, destined to become increasingly famous throughout the Christian world as a con- troversialist of the very highest order England has ever produced. The Grammar School was bound to recall the thoughts of the Dean to the scholarly Whitaker, because in that humble seminary the great divine of the new faith received the rudi- ments of his education. Among the peasants who were waiting his arrival in the church porch or the church vestry, the Dean encountered a whole group of Spensers, Edmund and John, Janet and Isabella, and others, and these Spenser beneficiaries in their turn would direct the thoughts of the Dean to that marvellously endowed boy, Edmund Spenser, who had only a few days before entered his name as a student of Pembroke College at Cambridge, after having finished his career at Merchant Taylors’ School, where he had been placed by the liberality of the Nowell family. The Dean and his brother, indeed, were among the foremost men of the Reformation era who showed by their living and dying acts that they were anxious to put the coming generations of Knglish youth in possession of the fullest means of education. Robert Nowell, with his dying breath, besought the Dean not to forget the Grammar School at Middleton, at which they had both received most of their early education, and the ecclesiastic carried out the request to the full. 33 Burnley in 1569 evidently shared in the unsettled state of the country at large. It is easy to infer that in the matter of religion the little community of Burnley was in a most perturbed condition. Dean Nowell’s entertainer during his stay was Mr. Towneley, of Towneley, whose loyal holding to the creed of his fathers brought upon him political persecution. At this very time these northern parts were in a political ferment, which by and by culminated in that rising in the North of which Words- worth has made such capital use in his “ White Doe of Rylstone.” We can trace the religious difficulties even in Dean Nowell’s gifts. On this very day, July 26, 1569, he made a present of some kind or another to one William Dickson, curate of Burnley. No such name occurs in the list of Burnley clergymen given in Wilkinson’s History of the Parish Church, nor in the later editions of Whitaker’s History of Whalley. This Dickson, then, must have been in charge of the Burnley Parish Church some- time between the death of Sir John Aspden in 1567, and the commencement of the clerical duties there of Sir William Dux- bury in 1583. It seems probable that this Dickson took up a more strongly Protestant position than was palatable to the rul- ing families of the district at that time, and that they, holding authority as churchwardens, in their capacity, revenged them- selves, for having listened from his lips to teaching which they could not appreciate, by omitting his name altogether from the records of Burnley Parish Church. The Dean also made a gift of some kind to one Lawrence Yeate, schoolmaster of Burnley Grammar School, and oddly enough the records of the masters of Burnley Grammar School, published by the late Mr. T. T. Wilkinson, contain no mention of a master bearing such a name. But there is reason to believe that Mr. Yeate later on became master of the Blackburn Grammar School, and if so he is the individual who is mentioned in very complimentary terms by Mr Bolton, a great Puritan writer of that town. This heightens the suspicion that the name of Lawrence Yeate was obliterated from the records of the school because of his Puritan propensi- ties, just as that of William Dickson was omitted from those of the Parish Church for pretty much the same reason. Some more instances of the Dean's liberality were then noticed, and reference was made to the stipulation of Robert Nowell in his will that out of the money that was left at his death forty marks should go to the poor of Burnley, forty to the poor of Whalley, and forty to the poor of Holborn and Hendon, in Middlesex. The generosity of the brothers to scholars of both Oxford and Cambridge, and the famous men who were helped by these gifts were alluded to, and the essayist passed on to a discussion of the causes of beggary in the Elizabethan period, and the measures which had been adopted for restraining 34 it; and the lecture concluded with a reference to the glories of the literature of that day, and a comparison between the leisurely and painstaking way of thinking and acting in former times, and the feverish spirit of the present day which exercises a perturbing influence over our philosophy and literature. The advantages of our own day are great, the reader said, in the triumphal march of physical science, in the vastness of our intellectual horizon, in the richer complexity of our acquirements. But in the very diffusiveness of aims there is a greater danger. We seem to want that closeness of concentration which stamps the Elizabethan age as testified in a hundred ways by the written record found by the Royal Commissioner on Historical Manuscripts who overhauled the papers at Towneley Hall. That most interesting record is endorsed, ‘‘ The Spending of the Money of Robert Nowell,” and has been carefully edited by Dr. Grosart, of Blackburn, and published by him by subscription. THE AUTHENTICITY OF SHAKESPEARE. By HENRY HOULDING. March 19th, 1889. Mr. Houlding began by saying that he should not waste time in discussing what has been called the ‘‘ Bacon-Shakespeare theory,” which he characterised as mere lunacy. He went on to deal with the few facts of Shakespeare’s life which have come down to us. He then referred to the notices of the poet by his contemporaries, quoting and commenting upon several of these, especially the references by Greene, Chettle, Heminge, and Condell, and Ben Jonson, whose noble eulogium on Shake- peare, prefixed to the first folio, he read. He pointed out the affectionate and honourable regard which the great dramatist almost invariably received from his contemporaries, and spoke of the friendship of Southampton for the poet, the favour bestowed upon him by Queen Elizabeth, and his popularity with the general public. He went on to deal with the sonnets of Shakespeare, quoting Professor Dowden’s estimate of these remarkable compositions, and said that there could not be any doubt that the author of the sonnets was the author of the plays. He then went on to speak of ‘‘ that miraculous volume,” as he called it, published by Heminge and Condell in 1628, and showed how ‘the veritable selt of Shakespeare’ was revealed therein to such as had the faculty to discern and sympathise with all that is noble, beautiful, and exalted in humanity. Not only from the poet’s sympathy with all that was pure and 35 beautiful in womanhood, all that was heroic and gracious in man, but from his sympathy with the lowliest forms of life, the brute creation, flowers and the aspects of the natural world, and especially with poor, humble, and common-place people, with topers, clowns, and fools, and his recognition of the better nature that was often found in the vilest and most degraded of God’s creatures—from all these we could discern not only the marvellous genius of the poet, but those rare qualities of the man which earned for him from his contemporaries the name of ‘the gentle Shakespeare.” In conclusion, he said Shakespeare was not a learned man in the sense in which Ben Jonson, Milton, or Lord Bacon were learned men. One thing was cer- tain, that the plays of Shakespeare were not written in a library, or by aman who spent his days and nights in study of the thoughts of other men and bygone times. Shakespeare studied men and things in the streets, in the taverns, in the court, “ in huts where poor men lie,” in country lanes, and the deep, sweet, and solemn secrets of humanity in his own deep mind and mighty heart. THE LITERATURE OF THE ENGLISH LAKES. By A. NICHOLSON. March 26th, 1889. Mr. Nicholson explained that he had for some time back been engaged in compiling a Bibliography of this district, and what he laid before the members might be styled ideas and facts, taken from these books illustrating some of the many and varied interests that cluster round Lake Land, its history and its people ; he said, Up to the present time I have noted the works of some 300 writers on this subject small and large, poetry and prose—many laying claim to the former title among the prosists. These verse writers however and their efforts, good, bad, and indifferent, from §. T. Coleridge to the ‘ Poet” Close—I must reserve for notice in a future paper. Amongst much that is weak and worth- less contributed by those unknown to fame are some verses that would do honour to any literature. Mr. Nicholson then gave many anecdotes from and about the guide books and their authors ; ke concluded by expressing a doubt if we have really yet attained perfection in this matter. He said, Mr. Baddeley and Mr. Jenkinson are certainly to be implicitly depended on for minute and accurate itineraries which will enable you to see the Lake country, its highways and byways, but there is a romantic 36 history attaching to the fells and dales, and to those who have dwelt there in the near and distant past, that finds but slight record in their pages, or indeed within the circumscribed limits of any guide book. We may be told that our ideal is an im- possible one to realize, but let us hope that someone may yet be found who will tell the tale that will invest these valleys, lakes, and hills, with an interest second only to the marvel of their perfect natural beauty. There is no place in England where the remains of the earlier inhabitants—Roman, British or what- ever they may be, for it is a disputed point—are so numerous and instructive. There are not only the so-called Druid circles of Keswick, Long Meg and her daughters near Langwathby, and others of like origin, but many Roman Camps, some of considerable size, and numbers of small earthworks and other remains of various races that tell of a large population even in the remote past; and judging by such examples as the Gosforth and other crosses, the Hog-backed stones at Penrith and the many fine Roman remains still to be seen in the districts, ot very considerable civilization. The cross in the churchyard at Gosforth is certainly one of the most interesting relics to Englishmen in existence, not only from its great antiquity—dating as it does from Saxon times— but also on account of its singular artistic beauty. Opinions on even the beauty, interest, and advantages, of such a favoured land as this will and do vary. A good woman was overheard to ask a fellow tripper as they wended their way from Waterhead to Ambleside—‘ Well, Martha, what dost think o’ this place?” ‘A! Mary I reckon nowt on it, may be if these great hills were out o’t road one might see summut.’”’ Charles Lamb once ventured down to Keswick to visit his friend Words- worth, and for a few hours was entranced by the natural beauty, but after a brief sojourn he hastened back to London; such scenes were to him nothing in comparison to the excitement he derived from a contemplation of the ever-varying crowds and bustle of his beloved Fleet Street. In conclusion Mr. Nicholson related many anecdotes about the peasantry and their sports, the coaching past and present, and the famous men and women who have dwelt in this beautiful land. 37 WITH POETS, ARTISTS, AND ANTIQUARIES AT BOLTON ABBEY. By J. C. BRUMWELL, M.D., J.P. April 9th, 1889. The Lecturer showed how Bolton Abbey has been made more accessible by the opening of the new line, and pointed out that it was the duty of a Literary and Scientific Club to afford useful information to visitors who have not time or opportunity to acquaint themselves with all the points of interest. He then began his descriptton of the Abbey and its surroundings :— The Devonshire Arms stands upon an interesting spot called the Town Field. In the early part of July, 1644, during the war between King Charles and the Parliament, Prince Rupert came here on his way to Marston Moor. Finding this “field waving with corn, almost ready for the sickle,” he turned his cavalry into it so that they might have board and lodging gratis. The accounts of the Clifford who owned the land contains the following entry. ‘Bolton, 12th July, 1644. Agreed with Richard Barnvis for all that piece of ground at Bolton called the Hambilton, as it now putteth out to be eaten and fouled by the Prince’s horses as they passed through the county, &c., £20.” Here then we have three names for the large field reaching from Bolton Bridge to the Abbey grounds, ‘The Town Field,” “ Hambilton,’’ and ‘ Bodleton,’ which was the old way of pronouncing Bolton. Bodleton means the abode town. Ham- bilton means exactly the same, and the Town Field, as it was formerly called, gives the same meaning. The explanation is that in Saxon times, Earl Edwin, who owned the most of ‘*« Crafna,” or ‘‘ Craven” as we now pronounce the word, lived here surrounded by his servants, soldiers, and slaves. He worshipped in a Saxon church near where the Abbey now stands. His forefathers must have lived there for many generations, because this chapel was richly endowed and was the head church of the district. Its privileges, and those churches which received help from it, were known as ‘The Saxon Cure.” But when William the Conqueror sent his troops to this part of Yorkshire Earl Edwin was driven away and fled to Scotland. William gave the possession of the Saxon Earl to Robert de Romille, one of the barons who followed him from Normandy. The son of the Saxon Earl, however, assisted by the King of Scotland, came back to the Wharfe with a con- siderable army, and committed great atrocities. But, how it came about history does not say, this same leader of the ruffians who murdered the people of Wharfdale married the daughter of 38 William de Romille, and is known as William de Machines. Afraid of popular indignation he built Skipton Castle, and afraid of still higher vengeance he built an Abbey at Embsay, which lies between Skipton Castle and the Wharfe, in the year 1121, dedicated to the Virgin and St. Cuthbert. A large dwelling- house is now built on the site of the old Abbey, during the building of which several remains of Saxon architecture were found. Mr. Butterworth and myself visited the place to learn if any traces of the first Bolton Abbey still remain. We were accompanied by Mr. Lister, of Barden Tower, who has known the place from boyhood. He remembered many years ago seeing gravestones of the old monks under some yew trees in the garden. We asked permission of the gardener to look for these relics, but could not find them. Nor could the gardener remember anything about them. We were about to give up the search when the gardener said there were, he believed, some old stones forming the floor of the summer-house which might be what we wanted to see. We accompanied him to the place and made a most interesting discovery. The floor of the summer- house consists of the lid of a stone coffin broken into two pieces. The carvings are very ancient and consist of a Maltese cross, with an ornamental border. Close to the summer-house we found the piscina of the church of Embsay Abbey and one of the pinnacles of the old church. The Abbey at Embsay took several years for its completion, but, shortly after it was finished it was abandoned. ‘Tradition says that the son of William de Machines and Aaliza de Romille was one day hunting in Bolton Woods when he came to a narrow part called the ‘‘Stride.”’ He had with him a hound which he held by a leash, and when attempting to jump from one side of the river to the other the hound held back so that he fell into the river and was drowned. He is called the Boy of Egremond, because he was born on an estate of his father’s called by that name. It would take up too much time to enter into the controversy as to the truth of this tradition. Whitaker says, ‘‘1 have little doubt the story is true in the main, but that it refers to one of the sons of the first foundress, Cecilia de Romille.”” Other antiquarians seem inclined to adopt the tradition as it now stands, which is, that when the forester who aceompanied the boy and saw him drowned, came to break the sad tidings to his mother, he said, ‘‘ What is good for a bootless bene?’ She, suspecting what had happened, said ‘‘ Hndless sorrow.’’ She then said she would make many a poor man’s son his heir, and ordered the removal of the Abbey from Embsay to Bolton. But whatever difference of opinion respecting this catastrophe there may be among antiquaries, there is none among the poets. It is too interesting and too —* — 39 pathetic a subject to be disbelieved. The consequence is that every poet and poetaster who visits the Strid finds the poetic afflatus working within him so powerfully that he must make a poem on the incident. We have only space to make a selection of two—Rogers and Wordsworth. Rogers’ poem is entitled ‘‘ The Boy of Egremond.” I may premise that there is much more local colouring in Rogers’ poem than in that of Wordsworth’s : Say what remains when hope is fled ? She answered, ‘‘ Endless weeping! ”’ For in the herdsman’s eyes she read, Who in his shroud lay sleeping. At Embsay rang the matin bell, The stag was roused on Barden Fell; And mingled sounds were swelling, dying, And down the Wharfe a horn was flying ; When near the cabin in the wood ; In tartan clad and forest green, With hound in leash and hawk in hood, The Boy of Egremond was seen. Blithe was his song, a song of yore; But where the rock is rent in two And the river rushes through The voice was heard no more! Then but a step, the gulph he passed But that step, it was his last, As through the mist he winged his way (A cloud that hovers night and day) The hound hung back, and back he drew His master and his merlin too ; That narrow place of noise and strife Received their little all of life. Before reading the second stanza it may be necessary to remark that good as it is this is not a fair specimen of Rogers’ best poetry. His nephew, Mr. Samuel Sharpe, who wrote his life, says ‘‘The lines entitled ‘The Boy of Egremond’ are perhaps the least valuable of his poetry.”” This seems to me a rather severe criticism, because there is considerable dramatic pathos in Rogers’ poem. There now the matin bell is rung, The ‘‘ miserere” duly sung; And holy men in cowl and hood Are wandering up and down the wood, But what avail they? Ruthless lord, Thou didst not shudder when the sword Here on the young its fury spent, The helpless and the innocent, Sit now and answer groan for groan The child before thee is thine own, And she who sadly wanders there The mother in her long despair Shall oft remind thee waking, sleeping, Of those who by the Wharfe were weeping. Of those who would not be consoled When red with blood the river rolled. 40 We are now brought into touch with Wordsworth, who also wrote a famous piece of poetry on the same subject. What has been said respecting the specimen of Rogers’ poetry may also be said of Wordsworth’s lines on the death of the Boy of Eeremond. It is not a fair specimen of his great poetic genius. The lines are uneven, the diction is flat and altogether it is decidedly prosy, in more senses than one. The title of the piece is— Tur Force or Prayer. “‘ What is good for a bootless bene?” With these dark words begins my tale; And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring When prayer is of no avail? To proceed now with the description of the Abbey :—the best way to enter the grounds is through what is called ‘‘ The Hole in the Wall.” This wall is a huge massive erection for defensive purposes. It was intended to be a protection from the troops of the kings of Scotland who several times came on plundering expeditions down the valley of the Wharfe, and laid their sac- rilegious hands upon all the property of the Abbey that was capable of removal. This is evidently a very old wall and must have been built long before the Tithe Barn, because the latter is not under its protection, and was built in more peaceable times. A hole has been made in this wall, and passing through it we come upon what is called the Holme Terrace. This is a continuation of the Town Field, as its name indicates. Standing on this sloping terrace a scene of most startling beauty is before us. We have a view of the ruins of the Abbey and its more immediate surroundings. The Abbey Church, the Parsonage, and Bolton Hall, are spread out before us like a grand picture lovely to behold. The Abbey Church stands solitary and boldly on a rising ground with the river Wharfe sweeping round its eastern end. On the opposite side of the river is the same graceful curve con- sisting of lofty banks, covered by trees, interspersed with masses of rock and scar, and a tiny waterfall to complete the variety. These add to the charms of the scene, and form a fine contrast to the Abbey which is thus set in a lovely framework of wood and water. It is so completely surrounded, and yet has such space, that it seems to stand in a world of its own. ‘The complete stillness of the scene also adds a charm to its other beauties. The only sound is the murmuring of the river as it flows over its pebbly bed. Looked at from a picturesque point of view, the ruined condition of the end of the Abbey nearest the river gives the exact contrast required. We have ruin on one side, and the eyer-living woodlands on the other. The high Altar Tomb of Lady Margaret Nevill Seat jor officiating Priests. The Nave, now the parochial Chapel of Bolton. Ohapel of the Mauleverers & Claphams. The Cloister Court The Dormitory The Refectory Prior Moone’s Tower. The Chapter House. The Chapel and Vault of the Cliffords. Other Chapels, Dedication unknown Probably the Priors Lodgings The Priors Chapel One of the Offices, now the School. MMM. Siteof the Kitchen & Offices, now the Ministers House. N. Probably the Guest’s Hall (on old Foundations.) O. The Great Oven 18 feet diameter. P. Phe Gateway now the temporary residence of the Duke of Devonshire. Q. Lhe second Court RR. Qu. the Priory Mill 5. Garden & Well XX. Zhe Close Wall Néssss Nyaa TOIIHY Y Nw SSS ZZ Scate oF Feet Bunewore 8 Sraaner 40m Seancer 41 ‘What are they now? The eternal hills survive, The vales bloom on with flowers and fruit: the river In undimmed beauty sparkles on for ever, God’s handywork; while all that man has built Sinks to decay: and yet Death’s angel-smile Still lingers on the cold and silent aisle.” Descending to the Abbey we look at its western front and find that it really has two fronts and, it is difficult to decide which is the most beautiful. This is caused by the singular idea of Prior Moon who determined to build a western tower. He was proud of his Abbey, had sufficient funds at his disposal, and determined to build one of the most beautiful towers in the kingdom. He began to build and got his tower raised as high as the roof of the Abbey when King Henry the Highth put a stop to his build- ing operations by taking possession of the Abbey and its revenues. It was a sad blow to Prior Moon, and darkened the remainder of his life. Dr. Collier says ‘“‘ There was a quaint old house of timber near the Abbey, in the days old men still remember, in which tradition also said Richard Moon, the last of the friars ended his days in loneliness and sorrow. He was of the rustic stock which still holds its own in that region; but he was born out of due time and had to bear the sins of those who had misused gifts and privileges. Hehad built up the west front of the Abbey to the line at which it stands to-day, when the Commission struck him: and there is no truer bit of work in that age in all England. The great crane stood on the walls for many a year while Prior Moon sat there in his desolation, wishing for the day which could never dawn for him, and saying to himself perhaps, ‘How long, O Lord? how long?’ letting them bring his bit of victual very much as it might please them, and slip it through the slide, for the ancient tradition was that no human being entered his door; and so at last he went to his own place, dying, not alone let us trust, because the Father was with him.” Those beautiful words of Dr. Collier come to us with great force as we look at this unfortunate tower and read the inscription upon it which says—“ In the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and twenty Richard Moon began this foundation, on whose soul God have mercy. Amen.” Passing through the gate into Prior Moon’s tower we obtain a view of the real ancient front of the Abbey Church as it was built by the monks from Kmbsay. We are ready to forgive Prior Moon for building his unnecessary tower, when we remember that it has been the means of shielding the original front of the Abbey Church from the weather, and has thus preserved it from decay. Indeed it looks almost as perfect as when it was first built. This real front of the Church should be very carefully studied because its rich ornamentation partakes of an Anglo- Saxon character. The present vicar, who kindly accompanied 42 us while inspecting the ruins, says this front is the finest specimen in the kingdom. He specially directed my attention to the central lozenge-shaped ornament over the doorway, because antiquarians are of opinion that it contains either the remains of a fresco of the Virgin and Child, or the marks of a statue of the Virgin and Child. Mr. Pickles, one of our ablest Burnley amateur photographers, has taken a successful picture of this part of the old front, and his photograph gives the marks on the stone much clearer than they can be seen by the eye. From this picture it is very evident that the impression on the stone is caused by the statue shielding that part which was behind it, and thus preventing the gradual change of colour which the rest of the stone has undergone. The statue was torn down at the Reformation. On entering the building we find ourselves in the nave of the Abbey Church which, thanks to the Duke of Devonshire, has been restored as carefully as possible. His Grace adorned it with six lancet windows filled with richly-stained glass. Several thousands of pounds have been spent in making this part of the building as perfect as possible. ‘loo much praise can scarcely be given to the Devonshire family for the great care they have bestowed upon Bolton Abbey. Every stone that could possibly be replaced has been hunted up and restored. The highest architectural skill has been employed to make the restoration as genuine as possible and the beautiful surroundings of the Abbey have been made as perfect and picturesque as possible. May we not apply to them the words of Sydney Jendys, when he describes the restorers of old Rome. Like some village children Who found a dead king on a battlefield And with decorous care and reyerend pity Composed the lordly ruins and sat down Grave, without tears. 'The interior of this part of the Abbey Church is well worthy of a most careful examination. The six south windows are filled with stained glass, from designs by Pugin representing in thirty six groups the history of our Saviour. The western window has stained glass representing the stoning of Stephen and the martyrdom of Polycarp and Ignatius. Another window repre- sents St. Cuthbert. On the south wall is a picture from Chats- worth representing “Our Saviour Bearing the Cross.” There are also many remains of the old stained glass which are exceedingly valuable. The crowned heads of ancient kings and the remains of heraldic devices show that at one time the nave of the Abbey Church was more richly adorned than it is even at present. Dr. i i 43 Johnson of Pontefract visited the place before it was despoiled, and he describes the walls as being hung with banners and escutcheons, and the windows beautiful to behold. His narrative reminds us of the words of a poet who in describing the interior of an ancient Abbey Church, says Where windows catch the holy light On priestly heads that falls And stains the florid tracery Of banner-dighted walls. Wordsworth has a very happy illustration of the present beauty of the nave, when compared with the ruined choir. And in the sheltered fabric’s heart Remaineth one protected part A chapel, like a wild-bird’s nest Closely embowered and trimly drest. We will now enter the choir of the Abbey Church, which is in ruins. The first thing arresting our attention is the large east window which must in former times have been one of the most splendid church windows in the kingdom. Byron’s lines are as beautiful and appropriate asif they had been written on the spot. A mighty window hollow in the centre Shorn of its glass, of thousand colourings, Through which the deepened glories once could enter Streaming from off the sun, like seraph’s wing Now yawns all desolate; now loud, now fainter The gale sweeps through its fretwork, and oft sings The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire Lie with their hallelujahs quenched in fire. In the arched recess in the wall of the choir was found a skeleton and a part of a filleting of brass, with the letters N. E. V. I.—supposed to belong to Lady Margaret Neville. There is near this place part of a marble slab which is believed to be a portion of the tomb of John Lord Clifford, who was slain in battle in France in the tenth year of the reign of Henry V. We can easily trace the remains of the High Altar, and not far from its steps was found a marble slab underneath which was found a perfect skeleton. Under this was also found a corroded leaden coffin containing another skeleton of a female, the head being completely covered with auburn hair. The earved arches on the south side of the altar are the Sedilia or seats for the priest, the deacon, and sub-deacon, during certain parts of the mass. Whitaker says that the carving of these seats is almost equal to statuary. On the opposite wall a little further from the high altar are two ranges of beautiful arches which are the back of the stalls of the choir. There are two transepts, north and south, each of which has been richly decorated. But as we look at these decorations we see that 44 hundreds of years ago the chief parts of the choir and transepts were rebuilt. Richer windows were put, in and it is possible to trace the new work inside the old. The reason of this was, not that the church had become old and needed repair, but because the neighbouring gentry had become richer by the improved value of their lands. ‘The Abbey had also become richer by gifts and legacies. But perhaps the chief reason was the desire of the great people to have grand sepulchres in the Abbey church. The tomb of the Cliffords had a chantry on the south side of the choir. The Mauleverers of Beamsley had also a chantry chapel and tomb. The Claphams of Beamsley were also buried inside the church. Wordsworth refers to the curious fact that the bodies of the Claphams and Mauleverers were buried in an upright position. We will now visit what may more strictly be called the ‘“‘yuins ’’ of Bolton Abbey. What is generally called Bolton Abbey is merely the Abbey church which formed only a small portion of the original buildings. It extended from what is now called Bolton Hall to the river, and took up most of the pasture land on which the Abbey now stands. Bolton Hall is really the gateway of the Abbey which was made into a place of residence by the late Duke of Devonshire. It is difficult for anyone to have the slightest idea of the original form of Bolton Abbey without referring to the map of the ground plan. This is given in Whitaker’s History of Craven. The lecturer then described the buildings which were necessary portions of every Abbey. He then gave an account of the founding of the Scroope Chantry, quoting the Lay of St. Cuthbert from the Ingoldsby Legends, and proceeded to discuss True Alstoetic Aspects or Bouton ABBEY. We have many members, he began, who are fond of sketching, and a Photographic Society exists in Burnley, open to ladies and gentlemen who may wish to let the sun do the sketching for them. It may therefore be useful to consider what there is interesting in Bolton Abbey and its surrounding from an artistic point of view. This will bring us into the company of Ruskin, Turner, Cox, and other artists, whose opinions are entitled to the highest consideration. We shall also have to listen to what poets such as Wordsworth, Emerson, and others have thought about it. Indeed one most important branch of the esthetic aspects of Bolton Abbey is the fact that Wordsworth himself came to the place and viewed it from a poet’s stand-point. The special reason why Wordsworth visited Bolton Abbey was to write his fine poem entitled, ‘‘ The White Doe of Rylstone,”’ the scene of which is laid in this part of Craven. It is not necessary to refer to this poem on the present occasion except so far as the 45 poet refers to Bolton Abbey. There is a tradition that when the family of the Nortons of Rylstone were executed for taking part in a rebellion, called the rebellion of the Northern Earls in the time of Queen Elizabeth, there remained a daughter, . who, driven from her home, formed a companionship with a white doe. In company with this animal she wandered about the neighbourhood, and frequently visited Bolton Abbey churchyard where her eldest and most beloved brother 1s buried. The tradition is that after her death the white doe still continued to come to visit this grave, and Wordsworth’s references to Bolton Abbey are interwoven with this tradition. This graveyard was one of Cox’s favourite sketching places when he painted a near view of the Abbey. The mouldering grave- stones harmonise so well with the ruined abbey that they form themselves into a picture. But in addition to this the northern transept breaks the long line of the Abbey church. The com- paratively well preserved tracery of the transept windows also helps to give beauty to the details. Cox was a frequent visitor to Bolton Abbey, and stayed at the Devonshire Arms. In 1844 he was at Bolton with his friend Mr. Roberts and two or three other artists: the visit is recorded in his biography. We will now continue our walk through the churchyard to the western end of the abbey, and as we do so our attention is arrested by the very beautiful little castellated occasional resid- ence of the Duke of Devonshire already referred to, called Bolton Hall. Many visitors suppose that the Duke erected the whole of this building, but the fact is the chief part of it was standing before the builders begun. The central tower is formed in a most skilful manner by making use of the grand old gateway which the monks built as an entrance to the abbey grounds. Next to the Abbey church itself there is nothing so calculated to give us an idea of the ancient grandeur of Bolton Abbey as this gateway, because we know that the Dormitory, Refectory, and Chapter House would all be upon the same scale. It is said of Professor Owen that if he saw the tooth of any extinct animal he could make a drawing of the entire animal. Soalsoa clever architect seeing this gateway and the Abbey Church could reproduce a good picture of what Bolton was in the olden time. Speaking about Bolton Abbey in the olden time reminds us that Sir Edwin Landseer painted a celebrated picture to which he gave that name. ‘The beauty of the picture lies in the splendid animal painting it contains. Those who have seen it are not likely to forget the way in which the stag and dogs are painted. Another fine view is seen from the opposite side of the river a little above the Abbey. From this point can be seen the beautiful curve made by the river as it winds round the Abbey. This is a favourite view with many artists because it 46 embraces the solitude of the graveyard, the beautiful curve made by the river, and the fine ruins of the church. We will now go to the top of the rock on the opposite side of the river from whence we look directly down upon the ruins of the Abbey Church. From this point of view everything else seems to be shut off except the beauty of the ruins, and our thoughts instinctively turn to the builders of the Abbey. Here we must place ourselves in touch with Emerson, the great American poet, who in all probability visited the spot. We have only a meagre life of Emerson published which gives us very little information as to what parts of England he visited. But we learn when he came from America and landed at Liver- pool, his first visit was to Wordsworth in 1833, and the scenery of the North. The probability therefore is that Wordsworth would direct him to Bolton Abbey by the same road as he took himself. _This fine poem when read in sight of the Abbey seems just what we might have expected him to write under the cir- cumstances. **O’er England’s Abbey hends the sky As on its friends with kindred eye. For out of thoughts interior sphere These wonders rose to upper air ! And Nature gladly gave them place, Adopted them into her race, And granted them an equal state, With Andes and with Ararat.” To get another and picturesque view of the ruins of Bolton Abbey we must continue our journey along the lower part of the Holme Terrace so as to get the east end of the Abbey Church separate from the rest of the buildings. This was the favourite position in which Cox took it, especially the picture of Bolton Abbey which was exhibited in 1831. In this picture he takes his stand at a considerable distance from the building, having a bend of the right bank of the Wharfe hiding the western end which is now the parish church. The foreground of the picture is taken up largely by the bend which slopes to the river. There are cows quietly grazing in the shadow of the hill, and a farm servant is coming towards the spectator with a pail of milk upon his head. This arrangement gives a pastoral air to the picture, and we see Bolton Abbey forming part of a fine English country landscape. It is very interesting to know that it was while sketching Bolton Abbey and the neighbour- hood that Cox first began to try his hand at painting in oil colours. There was another drawing which Cox made of Bolton Abbey taken from the opposite side of the river. The description of the drawing by Cox’s biographer is most interesting. He says, ‘The large drawing of Bolton Abbey mentioned in the foregoing letter is very highly finished, and is unusually brilliant 47 in colour. There are few more picturesque remains in England than those of this fine Abbey. The Abbey is_ separate, surrounded by trees, and reflected in a large pool of water, towards which cattle are descending as is their habit in a hot summer’s day. The sky is a bright cerulean blue with fleecy clouds, and on the left hand is agrand group of trees. It is now in the collection of Mr. H. F. Broadhurst, of Manchester. It was sold in Mr. Peter Allan’s collection in 1859 for 125 guineas.” If purchased in the present day another thousand or two would have to be added to this. Most of the visitors who go to Bolton Abbey miss this fine view. Indeed, many artists and photo- graphers go there, and take their pictures from a point too close to the building. One of our earliest English painters in water colours was Girton, and with the true instinct of an artist he at ‘ence saw this and made his drawings accordingly. He painted several fine pictures of the Abbey taken from a spot near Bolton Bridge. Up to the time of his visit to Wharfedale our old abbeys were painted in water colour, much the same as a mechanical draughtsman would draw and colour a plan. But Girton understood the poetry of his art, and invested an abbey with a gloomy grandeur which up to that time had never been attempted. But itis very instructive to know that Girton did not consider, as our modern artists seem to do, that the ruins of the Abbey ought to be put into every picture. One of his finest drawings is a simple scene higher up the Wharfe where the Abbey is not seen. It is merely a sloping bank of the river with a man standing with his back to the spectator, looking across the stream and admiring the curves of the river and shelving slopes of the banks crowned with showy trees. One other glory of Girton is that he materially influenced Turner. They worked together when young men, and Turner was much impressed by the poetry which Girton infused into his work. Indeed it is probable that it was at Girton’s suggestion that Turner visited Wharfedale. It is interesting to know that the last picture which Girton painted was entitled “ Bolton Bridge.” He sent it for exhibition to the Royal Institution in 1801, and it was there at the very time his body was carried through the streets of London to its last resting place. Perhaps the most interesting and important event in connec- tion with the esthetic history of Bolton Abbey is the visit of Turner, By his great pictures of this part of the Wharfe he created an interest in Bolton Abbey wherever English Art is known. The Scotsman newspaper a few years ago calculated that the poetry of Sir Walter Scott was the means of bringing a million a year into Scotland. It would be difficult to estimate the number of visitors to Bolton Abbey who have been brought there by the poetry of Wordsworth and the paintings of Turner. 48 Still more fortunately, the love of Turner for the Wharfe induced Ruskin to visit it, specially to look at the scenes painted by Turner and to write his own experiences of its beauties. There is no other abbey in England which has-been thus highly favoured, and in their company we may gain glimpses of beauty which otherwise we might have looked at without seeing. Turner came to the Wharfe when he was a comparatively young man. He had never before seen our northern scenery and its special beauty came upon him like a revelation. When he came to the North he seems instinctively to have sought out the most picturesque abbeys he could find, such as Whitby, Kirkstall, and Bolton. His keen eye for the picturesque was delighted with the glorious details of these lofty arches, noble pillars, carved fronts and masses of ruined stone lying ready for his foreground. Ruskin intimates that he was influenced by deeper considerations. ‘ But on Whitby Hill and by Bolton Brook remained traces of other handiwork. Men who could build had been there; and who also had wrought, not merely for their own days. But to what purpose? Strong faith, and steady hands, and patient souls—can this then be all you have left! this the sum of your doing on the earth !—a nest where the night-owl may whimper to the brook, and a ribbed skeleton of consumed arches, looming above the bleak banks of mist, from its cliff to the sea?’’ It is however doubtful whether Turner looked so far beneath the surface of what he saw either at Whitby or Bolton. Ruskin is really describing his own thoughts as he stood for the first time beside those abbeys when he came to wander in the footsteps of Turner. It is however a fact that Turner was deeply impressed by the Wharfe and Bolton Abbey. It is said that he never spoke of them without being visibly affected, and in his latter days he never referred to them without tears. There is much special beauty at Bolton Abbey which was likely to attract Turner. Ruskin’s description of the scene will make this plain. In his “ Modern Painters’ he says, ‘‘'The Abbey is placed, as most lovers of our English scenery know well, on a little promontory of level park land enclosed by one of the sweeps of the Wharfe. On the other side of the river the flank of the dale rises in a pretty wooded brow which the river has cut into two or three bold masses of rock, steep to the water’s edge, but feathered above with copse of ash and oak. Above these rocks the hills are rounded softly upwards to the moorland; the entire height of the brow towards the river being perhaps two hundred feet, and the rocky parts of it not above forty or fifty, so that the general impression upon the eye is that the hill is little more than twice the height of the ruins, or of the groups of noble ash trees which encircle them. One of these groups is conspicuous above the rest, growing to the very shore of the 49 tongue of land which projects into the river whose clear brown water, stealing first in mere threads between the separate pebbles of shingle, and eddying in soft hues towards its central currents flows out amber into ebony, and glides calm and deep below the rock on the opposite shore.”’ ; The attraction of the cliff opposite the Abbey to Turner was its rich purple colour. He could copy nothing to his satisfaction which did not possess plenty of colour. When painting his celebrated picture of Whalley Abbey he was met by this colour difficulty because it is singularly destitute of all attractions of that class. But Turner was not to be beaten. He drew several workmen belonging to a neighbouring dye-works, washing various richly coloured cloths in the river opposite the Abbey. There were no dyeworks, except in the imagination of the painter, but Turner secured the pictorial effect he required! One of Turner’s grandest pictures of Bolton Abbey is that in which he makes full use of this purple rock. Ruskin gives such a grand and characteristic reference to the landscape ruin picture that every- one visiting Bolton Abbey ought not only to read it, but to have it thoroughly fixed in the memory. The doctor read the passage and concluded by pointing out the other special features of interest connected with the Abbey and its surroundings. CONVERSAZIONE. Town Hall, October Ist, 1889. The year 1889 will be memorable for the official recognition of the Club by the ruling authority of the Borough, the Mayor who was also a Vice-President of the Club having taken advantage of the conjunction of the two offices in his person, to offer a welcome to the members in the recently-opened Municipal Buildings. The arrangements were entrusted to the Secretary and were admir- ably carried out by him; the vestibule, landings, staircase, and rooms were decorated with choice plants, and in the reception room and Mayor’s parlour were exhibited views of places of interest, brass work from the Keswick School of Industrial Art, and curiosities of various kinds. Half-an-hour after the com- mencement of the reception an adjournment was made to the Council Chamber, where a programme of music and recitations was gone through in excellent style, the performers being Miss Horner, Miss Rawcliffe, Mr. Hartley, Mr. Rawcliffe, and Mr. S. Myers the accompanist. The Mayor said he accorded all present a hearty welcome to the Town Hall. He spoke of the connection that had existed between the Club and the Corporation, in the Club having from its formation been allowed the use of the Council 50 Chamber, and it seemed to him that the Corporation was only discharging its proper function in endeavouring to encourage the study of science and literature. Town government depended in no small degree for its success on the scientific work associated with it, and he instanced especially as a result of progress in science the fall in the death-rate for the population of Burnley during late years. Municipal Government, he said, was the carrying into effect of the discoveries of scientific men, and in proportion as municipalities were scientifically governed they were well governed. The President, replying to the Mayor’s words of welcome, said; ‘* The Burnley Literary and Scientific Club will shortly complete the sixteenth year of its existence. Ido not think that any previous term has opened under more favourable auspices than the thirty-second session which we enter upon this evening. We have now a meeting-room which we can call our own, and where we can gather together the books belonging to the Club, and place them more readily at the disposal of the members. You, Sir, as Chief Magistrate of this important county borough, by opening your hospitable doors to us, and welcoming us so heartily, have given as it were high official sanction to our pro- ceedings. Our aims and those of the Council over which you preside with so much ability are closely allied. The great object for which the Council is constituted is to promote the health and general welfare of the inhabitants. We band our- selves together for the encouragement of scientific study— devoting our especial attention to social science. Notice is called to matters of vital import to the community, and we are not afraid to introduce what are called the burning questions of the day. Men opposed in politics or religion meet together for a friendly interchange of views on the great problems of the time. We believe that the full and frank discussion of such subjects is one of the best means of cultivating a wholesome feeling on matters so bound up with our national life. But, moreover, knowing the dangers incident to a life in a busy manufacturing town like our own—the engrossment of business pursuits—to correct such tendencies, to complete the ideal character and give the world assurance of a man we foster the study of literature. We may claim to have steadily cultivated the productions of the great master minds of all countries in the centuries that have passed. Those of our members who have leisure for travel give their home-keeping brothers the benefit of their studies and discoveries in lands replete with historic interest or abound- ing in the wonders of nature. Thus have we endeavoured to fulfil our mission, we have kept a lofty ideal before us, and have striven, however imperfectly, to attain it.” 51 The President went on to recount some evidences of the usefulness of the Club, and complimented the Ladies Literary Society on the spirit they had shown in giving Burnley the benefits of the Oxford University Extension Scheme. ‘‘ We trust,”’ he added, ‘‘that you, Mr. Mayor, may never regret that the members of the Burnley Literary and Scientific Club and their friends were the first body to whom was accorded the honour of a reception in this splendid building, of which every inhabitant of the town is justly proud.” After a vote of thanks to the Mayor had been passed and acknowledged, the company dispersed themselves through the rooms to inspect the objects of interest furnished by the kind- ness of numerous friends; during this time the Police Band played a number of instrumental selections, and refreshments were served. Shortly after 10 the enjoyable gathering was brought to a close. The number present at this meeting was 75 members and 97 friends. SOME DOUBTFUL TENDENCIES IN MODERN POETRY. By THOMAS LEYLAND. October 8th, 1889. When Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun, wrote in a letter to the Marquis of Montrose, that ‘‘if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation,” he recognised the demand that above all things else, the poet should be more than a mere entertainer, and that his poetry ought to be a teaching and a sustaining power. It is the highest function of the poet to soothe and uplift. But he does not always make those the marks of his high calling; nay, on the contrary, he not seldom makes his poetry the vehicle for puerile conceits, or a pander to questionable ends, or a medium of melancholy moodiness, or of maudlin sentimentality, or of despair of life and the world. Only a few of them in any quantity give us what Sir Philip Sidney called ‘“ sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge,’’ and we may have to wait a con- siderable time before that is the characteristic of the many. When they have in possession a clearer knowledge, and a con- sequently strengthened faith, they will give us a stronger and a far richer poetry, for all such work is the fruit of confidence rather than confusion, of firm trust rather than of yielding despair. Sympathetic interpretation, discerning minds, and feeling hearts only are needed, for, as all true seers testify, 52 The world is full of poetry,—the air Is living with its spirit, and the waves Dance to the music of its melodies, And sparkle in its brightness. There is a doubtful tendency even in the very forms used by a host of the versifiers of our day. They are little else than prosodists or mere verse formers, with their Triolets, their Rondeaus, and their Ballades, and one knows not what; and, indeed, little besides do they give than what Horace in his day termed ‘‘ verses devoid of substance, melodious trifles.”’ Such compositions are only put forth when the versifier is on the verge of poetical bankruptcy, or before he has arrived at the years of poetical discretion. ‘The last is the sort of condition Tennyson was in, when, ‘‘ by a mossed brookbank on a stone,’ he wrote in an album of the ‘“‘ Sad, sweet, strange no more.” Of course Lord Tennyson never perpetrates such things now, but we cannot forget that he nearly approached it in the lines which begin, ‘‘I stood on a tower in the wet.’ When the poet is wedded to mere form it is a sign that he lacks genuine interest in humanity. Surely the time is ripe for protest against a band of rhymsters whose thought has run out so thin that it has to be done up into all sorts of fancy shapes to catch the eyes of the world. Some of our modern poetry, apart altogether from its form, is in its matter of very doubtful tendency. The languid, indolent, dilettante sensuousness, and the Paphian idolization of material beauty, as found in some of the effusions of Rossetti, Swinburne, Whitman, and some of their followers give lurid illustration of this tendency. Indeed some of those followers out-herod Herod himself. Our earlier poets were pretty free of speech, but there was no pretence about them, whereas some of our modern ones, the fleshly poets, as Robert Buchanan dubbed them, make their influence all the more doubtful by inference and innuendo. They give us the poetry of passion, as they term it, and it is photographic even to the most microscopical minuteness. Now the poetry which is the mere offspring of passion is mostly of a debasing character, while that which is born of real heartfulness ennobles and uplifts. We are sometimes troubled that our young people should be subjected to the influence of the sensa- tional stories so common in our day, but one poem, if its tone be in the wrong direction, will do more harm than a hundred story supplements. In itself, and when rightly directed, the poetry of passion is altogether good, for, as Lowell, in ‘ An Incident in a Railroad Car,” put it, Never did poesy appear So full of heaven to me as when I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear To the lives of coarsest men, 53 But the most far-reaching of the doubtful tendencies in modern poetry is one of mood. It assumes many forms and a variety of phases. They lack what Emerson called the ‘ royal trait” of ‘cheerfulness, without which no man can be a poet,—for beauty is his aim. Beauty, the spirit of joy and hilarity, he sheds over the universe.’’ On account of their having those characteristics, so aptly expressed by Emerson, our old English singers have been compared most felicitously to singing birds who greet the morning with their lays, and delight the ears of all listeners by spontaneous outbursts of joy. Our modern poet mostly lacks cheer- fulness. He is of gloomymood, The mildest form of this tendency is that of simple melancholy. Tennyson is not free from this phase, for his ‘‘ Locksley Hall” is permeated mildly with it, and the poem beginning “I stood on a tower in the wet "’ is saturated with it. Another phase of the sad mood is that of mawkish melan- choly. It is an affected moroseness. Bunthorne in Gilbert’s “ Patience’ is a representative of such poets, for their chief delight is found in the pensive pleasure of asigh. Still another phase of the doubtful mood is an apparent disgust of our time. For the most part the melancholy poets are comfortably off, but they do not write from the inspiration of their surroundings. They insert their pens in the ink of gloom and of things that never were, which are not now, and which never can be at any time. Life they say is not worth living, but still they live it, and they do not appear to fare at all badly, except in the estimation of sensible and cheerful critics. But the very worst phase of the doubtful mood is the one which is characterised by a spirit of hopeless despair. This disposition produces nothing even in the direction of a great poem, for out of nothing nothing can possibly come, and whether this melancholy spirit informs a Rossetti, a Swinburne, a Thompson, a Morris, or a Whitman, it is a hindrance instead of being a help to the production of true poetry, and is consequently a hindrance rather than a help to the life of our time. The foundation for these doubtful tendencies will be found in false views which are taken of the realities of life. There is no robustness of faith. Most of our versifiers have not kept pace with the spirit of progress, for knowledge and character never did stand higher than they do to-day, and so the versified ery, in its matter and in its mood alike, is little more than a betrayal of the versifier’s own personal poverty of spirit. A low earth- mist appears to have shrouded those who have lost the power of seeing as they might and they only know of the sunlight by tradition. It is a sad spectacle when the poet is reduced to evil predictions or to gloomy retrospects, when he sees nature only as blind and brutal, and when he hears only cries of anguish and gnashing of teeth. The poet of the present seems often to have 54 been sickened by eating of the tree of kaowledge, and he would lead us to infer that all wonder has ceased, and that reverence is as extinct as the dodo. We have hope, however, for the future, and it rests upon the fact that the poetry of doubtful tendency is not very extensively perused. We ask with Wendell Holmes, Where go the poet’s lines ? Answer, ye evening tapers ! Ye auburn locks, ye golden curls, Speak from your folded papers ! Where the poet of despair has one reader the poet of confidence has a thousand. Who reads Thompson’s ‘City of Night?” Who does not read Longtellow’s ‘‘Psalm of Lite?’ When the poet of doubt reaches that higher knowledge of things which gives faith, he will sing to better purpose, and the world will gladly listen to him. The poet of the future will find the world aglow with blessedness and inspiration. Humanity will be heartened as never before, and they will say with Browning, ‘‘God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.”” Then will be sung for us the songs of cheerfulness and confidence. Are there any signs of the coming in of the tide of a clearer and a fuller inspiration ? Yes, as the Quaker poet has said, Through the harsh noises of the day, A low, sweet prelude finds its way ; Through clouds of doubts and creeds of fear A light is breaking calm and clear.” SOCIALISM. By Rev, 8. PEARCE CAREY, M.A. October 15th, 1889. The Rey. 8. P. Carey asked, after brief introductory remarks, How should he define Socialism? It was difficult to define Socialism, for it had as many meanings as it had advocates. It was quite Protean in the various forms in which it was advocated in England, France, Germany, and Russia. Amongst the work- ing classes Socialism was far more a protest against the indus- trial system of to-day than any positive scheme of reconstruction of society and industry. A tract which was circulating throughout the country, issued by the Social Democratic Federation, entitled “Are you a Socialist ?’’ gave eleven reasons why every one should be a Socialist. The reasons dealt with the insecurities, the injustice, and the miseries of the present system, the long hours of labour amongst the poor, the high death-rate, the overcrowding in the low quarters, the accidents in mines and 55 factories and on the railways, the poor wages of the working women, and the starvation amongst the children of the Board Schools, &c. He instanced the tract to show that Socialism there used was not a definite system of reconstruction, so much as a protest against the present system. Mr. Hyndman said Socialism lived by preaching discontent, so that it was destructive and not constructive. It pointed to the disease and took it for granted that Socialism was the remedy. Socialism again was called the economics of the suffering classes, the economics of Democracy. Mr, Hyndman’s definition of the subject was that it is an endeavour to substitute for the present anarchical fight for existence an organised co-operation for existence, which was to say that he was going to get rid of the perpetual warfare of our keen competition in the interests of the working classes. The keenness of that warfare lay in the divorce of the working classes from land and capital and so Socialism was further defined by others as an endeavour to terminate that divorce by the nationalisation of capital and labour. That led the lecturer to Schiffle’s definition of it, which he thought was the best. Schiffle said Socialism was associated production with a collec- tive capital with a view to an equitable distribution. Joseph Cook had given a blunt but not inaccurate definition of the term as “the State ownership of all wealth and the State control of all labour with a view to State distribution of all produce.” He came finally to Karl Marx's definition, who holds that it must be international and consequently defined it as ‘the supercession of existing governments by a vast international combination of the workers of all nations and all creeds.” Mr. Carey then traced the development of the Socialistic idea from Robert Owen and St. Simon, who left one great seminal idea in the soil of men’s minds which was to grow into the whole vast tree of socialism. He said the key note of the past had been the exploitation of man by man, but the key note of the future must be the exploitation of the Globe by man associated to man. Lassalle, whose chief work was in Berlin, had said that it was in Germany that the movement was to spread its roots. In Germany, in 1871, the Social Democrats only polled 6,659 votes ; in 1887, in the last election for the Reichstag they polled 93,000 in Berlin alone, and in Hamburg, 51,000. Why had it spread so rapidly in Germany? He imagined it was partly a protest against the severe imperialism of Bismarck and partly because the Germans had been taught to imagine that the State was omnipotent. Karl Marx was the greatest ecouomist of Germany and he was impregnated with the Socialistic ideas. Marx who was a man of immense learning and stiict scientific genius was a great developer and champion and apostle of the movement, and he said that it urged on one vast international 56 industrial common-wealth. Schiffle was a go-between the orthodox political economist and the out-and-out socialism of Germany. He had no sympathy with violence, with an attempt by some State action to reconstruct Society, but hoped for a freer association of individuals which would ultimately take the place of the clumsy State. The lecturer then referred to the Nihilists of Russia, who aimed first, he said, at peaceful propa- gandism but were ruthlessly repressed, and so since 1878 with the merciless they have shown themselves merciless. We have had the times in our own country when only violence and war could do the work that had to be done. In America the work of Mr Henry George was a symptom of the surge of the move- ment in the west. Professor Thorold Rogers, in a criticism of ‘«Progress and Poverty,’ had attributed the popularity of the book to “the American delight in clever paradoxes, and their interest in the speculative pessimism which well-to-do people like to indulge in, especially when it is illustrated from foreign practices.’’ The same critic had also said that in England the book would never have been gravely contemplated but for the policy of the landlords of clinging to the obnoxious privileges of primogeniture and the settlement of the land. It was worth their while, and for the study of the question absolutely neces- sary, that they should ask what were the factors and forces which were working towards and would bring about socialism. They were mainly three, (1) the ethical and intellectual forces, which were mainly the preaching of liberty, equality, and traternity ; (2) the political forces, the growth of the Democracy; (8) the industrial forces. Hegel, the giant of German philosophers was practically the founder of scientific socialism, and he said there have been two stages in modern industry, and there is yet to be athird. First the feudal stage with solidarity without freedom ; second the capitalistic stage with freedom without solidarity ; and thirdly and finally the permanent stage is to be socialistic with freedom and solidarity. The stage of freedom and solidarity had to come, but would that necessarily be socialistic. The Socialists had pictured some plausible and pleasure dreams of the Socialistic state, but the lecturer wanted to know how they were going to act to bring about the ideal State. He did not believe in the pessimistic outlook. Statistics all pointed to a wider distribution of wealth to-day than they did fifty years ago. He hoped to have the cost of production very much lowered by a reduction in the rate of transport He hoped for a redistribu- tion of taxation that would relieve the occupiers of the town and throw a much larger share upon the ground rents. He hoped for legislation which would better the dwellings of the poor in the great cities. He hoped for temperance legislation to effect the desirable changes largely, and he hoped for national, free 57 education, and technical education. We cannot afford to allow our Democracy to go uneducated, we must educate our masters ! He hoped very much too from the sympathy of the churches and the public with the working classes, and he believed that public opinion had already condemned sweating. He considered that the rise in wages of the working classes was distinctly attributable to trade unions, and that trade unions were absolutely essential, but they were not the solution of the question of capital and labour. No doubt they had been selfish and unmindful of the masters’ interests, but he believed a change was coming about and they were beginning to see that the interests of the employed and the employer were co-terminous and synonymous. They had done good work but he would like to see them superseded by a system of profit sharing, which was a distinct improvement on the Co-operative principle, because they still had a distinct captain of industry at their head—and the want of this had been the serious cause of the failures of co-operation. If masters and men could combine in Lancashire to beat the Cotton corner, how much better it would be to combine for profit sharing. The best masters would then get the best men, and competition would be healthy. Men would not then be mere machines but work would be ‘‘an artistic exercise” of brain and hand for them. They said men were selfish but to-day there was selfishness and spite, and then there would only be selfishness it they would term it so. But all that was not state control, much less state management. It was only Socialistic and yet it did the work which Socialism aimed at. We got the best results when we had State control without State management as in our School Boards. What Taine said should be his last words :—every State-managed enterprise in France costs a quarter more and brings in a quarter less than when it is in private hands.”’ A list of some of the leading works on Socialism, especially those referred to above, is subjoined ; it is taken from a syllabus drawn up by M. EH. Sadler, M.A., Oxford. Socialism of To-day (Orpen’s translation of Le Socialisme Contemporain by E. de Laveleye.).... London, Field and Tuer, 1885, 6/. Quintessence of Socialism by Schiiffle, translated. London, Sonnenschien, 1889, 2/6. Modern Socialism by Annie Besant. London, Free Thought Pub. Co., 1886, -/6. St. Simon’s works are published in Paris, Capelle, 1841, expensive. Le Nouveau Monde Industriel by Fourier. .............. Brussels, 1840, 7/. Revolution in the Mind and Practice of the Human Race, by R. Owen..... London, 1849, 7/. The Working Man’s Programme by F. Lassalle, translated. London, Modern Press, 1884, -/6. Capital, by Karl Marx, translated. ....... - London, Sonnenschien, 1887, 30/. Profit-Sharing by N. P. Gilman. ...,........ London, Macmillan, 1889, 7/6. 58 ART APPLIED TO INDUSTRY. By W, H. HEY, Art Master. October 22nd, 1889. Mr. Hey’s useful and interesting paper opened with a review of art as applied to various industries, in India, Persia, China and Japan, where industrial arts have flourished for centuries ; he highly eulogised the artistic methods adopted by these nations more especially in connection with textile fabrics such as Cotton, Woollen, Silk and mixed fabrics, Lace, Brocades, Embroidery, Carpets, &c. He then traced the history of the various Institu- tions of our own country for the fostering and encouragement of Art work, making special reference to the Scottish Society of 1727, the Dublin Society of 1749, and the London Society of 1754, down to the now flourishing ‘“‘ Science and Art Department,” founded in 1858. He dwelt at considerable length on the principles of design, concluding with the following valuable suggestions :—‘ After having glanced at the structural part of design, I may now point out some of the principles which when duly observed, have been productive of a higher class of designs, which depend not upon their novelty, or the fashion of the day, but on their true artistic merits, and will probably live to be admired by succeeding generations. The most important prin- ciple is that of Fitness or Adaptation. Before commencing any design we ought to know for what purpose the material is intended, also whether it is to be used in a vertical or horizontal position, such as a wall hanging or a table cover. It is for want of consideration that we sometimes see table covers, carpets, &e., with patterns all growing in one direction. The proper treat- ment for these things is one in which all the patterns radiate, so that from whichever side it is viewed we shall feel that it is right. The size of the pattern also depends upon the use of the material, for if we make a design suitable for a child’s dress, we cannot introduce the same size of flowers or scrolls that we might do in a hanging. Another principle is that of Even Distribution ; by this we do not mean that it should be necessarily like the meshes in a net, all the parts the same size and shape, but the design when viewed at a distance should not give you the impression that there are some spaces in it that would look better if a little more was filled in, neither should there be any indication of overcrowding. The best designs will always steer clear of both these extremes. A design which possesses a certain amount of variety both in form and colour will always give more pleasure than one which is composed of patterns equal in size. A knowledge of 59 Composition of Line and the principle of Radiation, cannot be dispensed with by the designer, for it is by means of these two that he groups his leaves and flowers to the best advantage, taking care not only of the position of each leaf but also of its relation to others by which it is surrounded. All representations of things which we adopt from nature, whether they be plant or animal forms must undergo some modi- fication or be what is commonly known as conventionalised. This means simply that we are to limit the imitation according to the materiat in which we work, for instance, in a cotton print we may render the beautiful contours of leaves or flowers by the process of printing, whereas in a carpet it is impossible to obtain the samé refinement of line owing to its construction. The beauty of @arpets depends more upon colour, the dis- tribution of form in the design, and the softness of its texture. If we represent & leaf in either wood, stone or metal, each material would necessitate a different treatment. There has been during the last feW years a tendency by some cotton printers and also manufacturers of certain wares to imitate the patterns and the treatment of another class of goods, such as carpet or lace effects upon cotton prints and wall papers, &c.; whenever this is done it shows poverty of invention, and is a sign of weak- ness on the part of the designer. Another evil tendency is to strive after pictorial effects in textiles, this not only adds materi- ally to the cost of production, but it is labour thrown away as regards decorative effect. There is no necessity for subtle light and shade, which requite all the skill of an artist to depict on canvas, and which would lose their importance when multiplied indefinitely over the surface of a wall or on a textile. Suppose for example we have a piece of decoration which contains the portrait of some well-known person, it might not be out of place if we had only one, but think what would be the effect if the same was repeated over a large area. The only value we should derive from it then would be as so many blots of colour. Figures or animals when repeated, should add interest by the variety of form and attitude which they are capable of giving, and should be used in the simplest and broadest possible manner; they are of the highest class of elements which can be made use of in designs, and require greater knowledge and skill to treat them successfully. I have now only one other matter I wish to allude to briefly before I conclude. I should like to induce our young ladies who have a moderate amount of spare time to add the study of design to their course of education, and I feel sure that the increased pleasure it would give, would thoroughly recompense them for the 60 amount of time necessary to devote to it. Instead of simply having to fill up the designs which are sold in our shops, and are the work of persons who reside perhaps in London or Paris, if we designed them entirely ourselves, we should derive all the more pleasure in having them in our homes. The time is rapidly approaching when it will be the duty of all (whether manufac- turers or workmen) to have a thorough knowledge of this subject, as it is the only way by which we can add more value to the materials which we have at our command. Let us have all the improvements in machinery that are possible, but do not let us strive to compete with foreigners by making slaves of ourselves, by constantly having to increase the amount of work done in a given time, but rather let us seek to excel by adding a little more intelligence and refinement to the things we manufacture, and giving to the workman that pleasure in his work which is necessary to his well being.” The paper was illustrated by a large number of exhibits of art work, including 2 Embroidered Portiéres, from the Macclesfield School of Art, lent by J. O. Nicholson, Esq. ; printed velveteens and plushes, silks, chalis, and cretonnes, lent by T. Wardle, Esq., Leek; portiére, screen, several cushions and chair backs, sac- de-nuit, supplied by Mrs. Wardle from the Leek School of Art Needlework: (the loan of all the above was procured through Mrs. Ward); embroideries and printed cottons, from Messrs. Morris & Co., and the Decorative Art Needlework Society ; oriental carpets from Mr. Edward Bell; studies from still life, lent by students of the School of Art, Burnley ; chromolitho- graphs of textiles, published by the Science and Art Department. THE MEASUREMENT OF ELECTRICITY. By J. L. KERR C.M., M.B. October 29th, 1889. Soon after electricity became a science, it was found necessary to have some standard of measurement, applicable in all cases, and as far as possible, all over the world. This became more and more urgent when electricity began to be used commercially, in telegraphs, telephones, electro-plating, and in electric lighting, for in these cases, as in all commercial transactions, accurate and definite measurements were necessary, as well to the user as to the supplier. 61 The first unit of electric measurement that we must consider is that of resistance, as well because it is at once the most important one, and it is the one from which all the others are derived, either directly or indirectly. George Simon Ohm discovered about the year 1827, that when electricity travelled over a wire, the wire offered a certain amount of resistance to its passage; he further found that if a thick wire was used this resistance was less, and also the same was the case when the wire was short. Stated shortly, ‘the resistance offered to the passage of electricity over and through it is inversely in proportion to its thickness and its length.” A thick short wire will offer a less resistance than a short thin wire. This element of electrical resistance is one of great importance, not only theoretically but practically, and it was recognised very early after electricity became of commercial importance, that its measurement must be provided for. Not only must this unit be ascertained, but it is self-evident that it should be ascertained as accurately as possible. Many workers in this department of science, more especially the Siemens Brothers, the Cavendish Laboratory of Cambridge, Sir William Thomson, and a Com- mittee of the British Association carefully worked upon it, and after many years of painstaking labour arrived at a definite conclusion. This unit of resistance, it was decided to call one Ohm ; but it was decided to found it strictly upon the metrical system. ‘‘ A proposal had been before the world for many years to found this unit of electric resistance upon a material of uniform quality, and one at the same time easily obtained, and which by easy precautions could be obtained in a state of perfect purity.” The Siemens’ unit was therefore proposed, and this unit a column of mercury one metre in length and one square milli- metre, ‘03987 of an inch in section. The great house of Siemens—Sir William in England, and Dr. Werner Siemens in Germany—worked in a most thorough and powerful way to give us a unit of electric resistance, the measure of resistances, in terms of the specific resistance of mercury, in such a manner as to give us a standard, easily reproduced in any place, with no other measure at hand than the metre measure. This unit—though not professing to be an absolute unit at all, but only a convenient one—was accepted as the foundation for the formation of an absolute unit. The system of Gauss consists simply in defining the unit of force, which, acting upon a unit of mass, generates a velocity equal to unit of velocity. 62 In short, then, the resistance unit is such that a current requiring one second of time to travel over one quadrant of the earth’s circumference, shall have a resistance of one ohm to oppose and overcome. This distance being approximately one billion centimetres, a current travelling with the velocity of one billion centimetres per second, is one ohm. We now come to another unit. The Volt, called after Alvessandro Volta, a Professor of Padua. If we take a Daniell’s Cell, such as this one, and cause a current to flow in it through the wire connecting the two metals of which it is composed, copper and zinc—namely, from the copper to the zine; as water flows always in the direction of least resistance, so does the electric current, and this direction of flow is due to an analogous cause—that is, it flows from the higher to the lower point. Now the difference of the intensity of the current at the copper pole from that at the zine pole, is called ‘ difference of potential,” and it flows from the metal having the higher potential to the metal having the lower one, from the copper to the zinc. The volt, then, is the difference of potential between the poles of a Daniell’s cell; rather it is a little less than this, for these nine cells should theoretically have a potential of nearly ten volts. Defining a volt in terms of velocity per second, we define the ohm ; it is a current flowing between the poles with a velocity of one hundred million centimetres per second. The enormous rapidity of the motion of electricity is well known. We have now got the unit of resistance, the ohm; and the unit of current, the volt. (Ampére). We have yet to get the unit of quantity; this can be got in two ways. If a current flows through a wire of one ohm resistance with one volt of potential, we have it, and it is called the ampére, after another of the pioneers in electrical science. But we can get it in a more accurate way by estimating the work done by a given current in one second. This work may be the decomposition of water or the electrical depositions of metals. It has been found by experiment carefully carried out, over and over again, that a current decomposing 0°00009362 grammes of water in one second, is of the strength of one ampére, and that one ampére of current will decompose so much water per second of time, or deposit 0:00111815 grammes or 0:017258 grains of silver per second. This is the chemical definition of the ampére, and is at the same time a more or less 63 accidental circumstance. The ampére is really part of an absolute system of electrical units—namely, that quantity of electricity which will move the weight of one gramme through the space of one centimetre in one second of time. This is the centimetre, gramme, second, unit of electrical work ; it was, however, found to be too large a unit, and it was divided into ten parts, each of which is called one ampére. The microscopical, or rather the infinitesimal amount of chemical work defining the ampére, is a very accurate measure of it; but, at the same time, it is but an accidental circumstance, and not the real definition of this unit. The current of electricity can also be measured in absolute units by means of the tangent galvanometer. The watt is the unit of work, and is the volt-ampére per second, and 746 watts are one horse-power. The object of all science is utility, and, says Sir William Thomson, to whom also is due much of the information here given, ‘‘ No greater mistake can be made than of ignoring the relation of science to utility ;” and I trust that I have been successful in my endeavour to show that the relation of absolute electrical measurements to utility not only exists, but also is necessary for the right understanding and working of all electrical problems. NATIONAL HEALTH By R. C. HOLT, F.R.C.S. November 5th, 1889. The Lecturer affirmed that the subject he had to treat was very wide, and one which he could not by any possible chance do absolute justice to. It would be found that one cause of disease interlaced with another, and it was difficult in some instances to say which was cause and which was effect. It was periodically stated that the death rate per 1,000 was diminishing, but that was open to doubt. Death rate returns were now audited. In the returns issued by the Registrar-General, very little attention is paid to scientific accuracy because it would interfere with public right, liberty, or interest. Therefore all conclusions must be wide of the mark as the premises are doubtful. There was, however, no alternative but to use these returns as the only available data at command. It is patent that fewer people proportionately die of old age than formerly. This may in part be due to the old-fashioned “hardening ”’ having gone out. Our forefathers took out young 64 children in cold weather, hardening them as they presumed, but in reality testing them. Only the strong ones could survive this process, so that the weakly ones were killed off. All barbarian or semi-barbarous nations fulfil the same object in some way. Now with the growth of civilization this apparent cruelty is curtailed, and hence in this country the infant mortality has been lessened. The infants are allowed to live, and are hardened or fall in the battle of life. In Lancashire, during the year 1886, 174 out of every 1,000 living infants died ; this is called a death rate of 174 per 1,000. This rate was the highest for the whole country. The lowest was in sparsely-populated Westmoreland, there it reached 88 per 1,000. This rate seems to vary according to density of population. About 20 out of every 1,000 people of all ages die annually ; this is called a death rate of 20 per 1,000, and to make this death rate the infant mortality is included. Some towns, such as Manchester (1887), 28°7, Dublin, 50°6 (1887), have higher death rates than the 20, whilst others such as Broughton, 16-9 (1887), have a lower, and the country people, taken altogether, have a lower death rate of about 18 for 1,000. In dealing with the health of the nation, we shall have to consider the diseases which the people suffer from and their causes. There seems to be a lingering idea that diseases come by chance, are a result of some unknown power, or perhaps as they come as a punishment for some moral offence. ‘There are ‘mind influences” in sickness, not the result of any occult power ; every illness comes of certain natural laws, which under all circumstances work alike. Given certain conditions certain results must follow, and if they appear to our feeble minds different, it is because we are unable to appreciate exactly the cause. The error or freak is in us, not in nature. Take as an axiom that mankind should live to 70 years, and that life should be terminated by so-called ‘“‘ decay”’ that death should be painless. A child seems to be incapable of feeding himself, whilst the paternal and maternal instincts are strongest; but as he grows these instincts of his parents gradually diminish, and when he is able to protect himself, his parents’ love for him is gone, and he in turn acquires parental instincts, and is able to do more than protect and feed himself. As he in turn goes on to old age his powers become feebler; but even in old age (if healthy) he still retains the power of foraging for himself, for not only are his wants fewer, but his hours required for sleep are lessened, and he has more time and can do his required work very slowly, but sufficient for his own diminishing wants. Pe) 65 At every period of life man has his special uses. We could not do without old men and old women. Excellent work is and has been done by healthy old people. Unfortunately, however, the conditions of life prevent us from having as many useful aged people as we ought to have. So very many break down mentally before the body is worn out, and so become comparatively useless. If a man breaks down at sixty and becomes incapable ot further work, there is a direct loss of the remaining years of his life. His breaking down is due either to inherent weakness, overstraining of his power, or lack of proper cultivation, or to an unnatural mode of life. It is necessary, before proceeding further, to define what perfect health is. 1. Labouring under no disease hereditary or acquired. 2. The physiological processes going on without strain—to wit, there being no exhaustion of any particular organ. The high death rate in children is accounted for— 1. By hereditary influence. 2. Industrial conditions. a. Mothers having to work. b. Irregularity of employment of parents. c. Errors of training for mothers. d, Density of population After examining at some length the general causes for death rate among children, the lecturer expressed his opinion that the chief cause of infantile mortality was hereditary, but the lack through industrial conditions of maternal care was also largely responsible. In the case of adults, irregularity of work, climatic conditions, the employment of young females in industry to the manifest neglect of a proper training for home duties. The density and overcrowding of the population all tended to produce a state of things totally opposed to healthy condition, therefore it is probable that infants die as the result of such surroundings, whereas if their homes were in the country they would live. The unnatural environment, too, when man’s estate is reached, leads to the breaking down, sooner or later, and the stronger has to help the weaker. This necessitates the stronger having to double their productive power to the injury of themselves and their offspring, and the eventual result must be a nation of weaklings, for even with all the appliances of science, it is doubtful whether hereditary disease can ever be cured. Man was born to live to seventy, and if he dies before, an error has been committed; either the conditions of life have compelled him to work too hard or to live in a poisonous town ; his death is due to something other than natural decay. Ee 66 The diseases which, perhaps, seems to be most prevalent and most fatal, are chest complaints, which include consumption. It is highly probable that if this disease could be eradicated, all chest affections, by which I mean bronchitis, inflammation of lungs, &¢., would disappear ; also disease of glands and joints, and others. Consumption can be transmitted, and the bulk of the people affected by it have it transmitted in them. A healthy man can stand almost anything—alternate heat and cold, wet, frost, snow, a fair amount of hard work more than sufficient for his own wants, and still live on to seventy. To reduce it to figures. Suppose we take our healthy man as representing the numeral 100, and we say man breaks down at 50. Putting healthy man as 100 hard work may take 10, living in a poisonous atmosphere 20, starvation 20, and now he is reduced to his breaking down point, and if we take away any more he fails. An hereditary-diseased man would stand at 80 to begin with, if he lives under good sanitary conditions, &c., is not overworked, he can survive; but place him under the strain of the man represented by 100 he will fail sooner. Dr. Farr has shown that every child born in this country has a value to the State of £150, this value varying from his birth to extreme old age, when he is not capable of taking his part in the production. His greatest value is from 25 to 35, when the powers of life are at their best, so that I need hardly show to a commercial people the loss entailed by his illness. If he drops into a chronic invalid he becomes a charge on his brethren. After suggesting that if every child was born and lived under healthy conditions, workhouses and prisons would be superfluous, the lecturer affirmed that hospitals are in great part filled with the victims of hereditary disease, and with accidents resulting from the terrible hurry and bustle to live ourselves and support our fallen brethren, the number of whom must get larger in proportion to the severity of the competition. Referring to density of population as a cause of death, urban and rural death rate statistics were quoted showing how high the record stood in towns compared with that of the country. This overcrowding of the masses was a fruitful source of many evils, and it was contended that as density of population was sure to produce death, so long as large aggregations were allowed, society was responsible for the resultant evil—in fact, accessory to the death of its fellow-townsmen. 67 There were certain fixed rules in nature, and sickness and death have absolute rules laid down for them, and a person cannot die except as a result of certain laws ; he cannot be ill unless a certain formula be gone through. Nature is always the same: she shows no freaks, nor is she subject to any caprice. Competition is an important factor in the production of sickness. The race for influence and position is responsible for a large proportion of insanity, and the savings of thrift are sometimes spent in confining the provident victim and paying those who prevent him from doing himself bodily harm. Competition, too, leads to sweating, which, in its turn, induces drunkenness with all its concomitant evils. Glancing at ‘death rate” relating to occupations, it was noted that the four best lives were clergymen, gardeners, farmers, and agricultural labourers. These live nearly twice as long as the average, whereas a London labourer only half. Plumbers, cutlers, and chimney- sweeps have a higher mortality. It is an undoubted fact that if one enters a certain occupation, one’s chance of living is not so great as if one entered another kind. Yet these occupations must be followed, somebody must be a martyr. We cannot all be gardeners or farmers, but something should be done to render the dangerous occupations safe. Match-makers suffered from a form of phosphorous poisoning inducing necrosis of the jaw ; this was enquired into and remedied. Plumbers aud painters are liable to lead colic, but it has been shown to be due to swallowing the lead, by getting a little, say under the finger-nails and so on to their food, hence they have to carefully wash their hands or always use a knife and fork, and be careful not to allow their fingers in their mouths. Workers in woollen in Yorkshire are liable to a malignant form of disease acquired from the wool. Earthenware manufacturers have a high rate of mortality, as also have Cornwall miners. Ordinary coal miners have a good death rate. Whether it is owing to only strong men being selected for the work, or whether it is due to a certain healthfulness of the occupation, I am unprepared to say. Printers have a high rate of mortality, chiefly from consump- tion ; two printers die of consumption to one of all occupations taken together. A large number of people are annually destroyed by what are called zymotic diseases, infectious disorders such as measles, scarlatina, typhoid, and smallpox. Epidemics of these diseases spring up from time to time, and thence there comes a run on 68 some nasty stuff to kill the germs which is supposed to have a selective action —that is to say, to kill those germs which will do us harm and the good germs it will leave alone. Germs are supposed to be certain organisms carrying certain disease ; they are always about, sometimes in large quantity sometimes in small. If in small quantity, even enfeebled nature can resist them ; but if in large quantity, it requires the vital powers of our strong man to resist them. Disinfectants are supposed to kill these germs. Now it looks as if a man swallowed a lot of germs the best thing to do would be for him to swallow a disinfectant; but this is not so. You must catch the germs before they settle, and kill them with the disinfectant. However, as we do not know the habits of these enemies, we place our disinfectants all over the place. But like all other evil things, they seem endowed with that power of evading their enemy. Disinfectants are powerful poisons such as carbolic acid, perchloride of mercury, and some others which will undoubtedly kill disease germs, if they come in contact with them. Seeing that we have to use the disinfectants blindly, it is probable that we may make mistakes and use them either at the wrong time or place. In Lincolnshire malaria has almost been completely abolished by deep draining of the soil. It would make too long a story to show how certain soils favour certain diseases. Sir John Simon states that damp soils encourage consumption. But certain soils have been shown to cause typhoid fever, and it has also been shown how they do it. Certain other soils cause diphtheria. Whether living on these soils produces the disease under certain circumstances, or renders the inhabitants liable to the disease, I will not say. So that if you build a house in a certain locality, diphtheria to the inhabitants will be the result sooner or later—typhoid the same. Made soils, that is soils made from ashpit and other refuse, have been proved to be productive of disease to people living in the houses built on them, until the soil had exhausted its virus. Certain localities—apart from the actual composition of the soil, but from the topographical position — favour certain diseases. When the causes have been fairly well made out and the remedy has been applied, the diseases have disappeared, but lives have had to be sacrificed first. Many years ago typhus fever was most prevalent, now it is rare. Typhoid, measles, scarlet fever, diphtheria, however, still crop up and claim their thousands, giving rise to such evils that nothing can remedy. Families are broken up from what must 69 sooner or later be proved to be preventible disease. The loss to the country is incalculable, the grief may add another victim to the asylum. Sometimes if it does not kill its victim he may be left a wreck. Typhoid sometimes causes insanity, scarlet fever deafness and even blindness. All these diseases ought to be attacked in their origin. With regard to typhoid, certain conditions of soils, if they do not actually produce the disease intensify its virulence. So much is known that an expert could almost state where in a locality certain diseases are likely to break out, and could give a forecast of its course if he were allowed to examine the soil, drainage, houses, and take the conditions of the people, place his facts side by side, and come at his results. This ought to be done in every nook and corner. A few years ago an Act was passed for the notification of so-called infectious diseases, which compelled every householder to inform the local authority when he had an infectious case in hishouse. This has been done, but beyond opening the eyes of the people to the actual numbers, little good has resulted. A medical officer who sees these reports can form an idea what diseases are prevalent in certain localities, and make it his duty to inquire why, and when he finds out the reason, it is the duty of the local authority to apply the remedy at any cost. No cost can be too great. The paper concluded with the following suggestions :— That all disorders, or illnesses, or deaths, lesser or greater, are national concerns, and they should ali be unremittingly traced to their origin; that every case should receive the nation’s attention, and in order to do so the creation of a Ministry of Health with a staff all over the country was necessary. Every illness should receive the attention of one or more of the Minister’s subordinates, who should be required to write a full account of the case, trace it to its origin without fear or favour, and this report should be analysed by one in charge of the district, and so on up to the head, and conclusions could thereby be arrived at which must eventually, if these behests were carried out, chase disease away. 70 HOW I SAW PHARAOH IN THE FLESH. By the Rev. H. D. RAWNSLEY, M.A., Vicar of Crosthwaite, Keswick. October 12th, 1889. The lecturer, having referred briefly to the visit he paid to the Museum at Cairo, proceeded to give his account of the discovery of the Mummies of the Pharaohs thus :-— The story of the Find was briefly this :— For a long time past, tourists who returned from Thebes to Cairo brought with them scarabs, bits of papyrus, sometimes jewellery, cartonage, and the like, which so evidently be- longed to the xviii. or xix. dynasties, Rameses I., Seti IL., and Rameses II. the great Rameses of the Bondage, that Monsieur Maspero and Brugsch Bey suspected there had been a great mummy-find somewhere in the Royal burial place, the ‘l'ombs of the Kings. You will ask what is meant by the Tombs of the Kings ; briefly this: at the western side of the great Theban plain rises up a vast mass of limestone rock broken into terraces. High up and underneath one of the terraces is the Temple of Deir el Bahari. That was the temple ante-chamber to the tomb; it was close to that that the great Royal mummy find was made. However much the Theban kings might build memorial temples in the Theban plain, it is always to be remembered that these great kings took good care not to entrust their bodies to these shrines. After the lapse of 3,000 years the dead were again to reappear upon the earth and resume their bodies ; these bodies, then, must not only be embalmed, but must also be most carefully guaranteed from harm. Therefore, in some out of the way place, if possible, must the tombs be. Now it chanced that the huge limestone cliff of many terraces upon the western side of the Theban plain, enclosed two desolate valleys. One of these opened into the plain, and in pits and caves, carefully hewn and protected by clever devices of block fitting and angular shafts, the princes and priests of old Thebes should lie in quiet, resting in the heart of hills where none but a jackal would roam, in a valley where the sun beats mercilessly, where there is no shade except what the chameleon casts, where is no vegetation, and one realises at the noon what the breath of a furnace is. In this hidden amphi- theatre of silence and death should the bodies of the Theban 71 kings be till the resurrection. The Nile might overflow, but here in the valley of dry bones in the Libyan lime- stone range, should these royal bodies lie in arid safety. War might flame at the hundred gates of the royal city, and other conquerors break the peace oi Thebes, but they should not disturb the rest of the Pharaohs. Even if they burnt to the ground the memorial temples of Hatasu and Medinet Aboo, or shattered the Hypostyle Hall of the Rameseum, these conquerors should never trouble the secret halls of the dead high up in this burning Wady of Biban el Malouk, as it is called to-day. There undisturbed, the bodies wrapped in their thousand wrappings, enclosed in their double coffins, should sleep on, and the priests alone should know the secrets of their abode in their slumber of eternity. It is true that these cavern chambers in the valley of the kings were carefully hewn. Kings of the xvii. and xix. dynasties would at least see personally to this. Far away in the burning amphi- theatre of royal sleep they would all have their tomb cavern cut. From Amenophis III. to the end of the twentieth dynasty, only the tomb of King Horus is missing. Before they died, the kings doubtless went up to the plateau of Deir el Bahari and entered the vale of Biban el Malouk, and watched the sculptors and decorators at work. Not hewing a couple of rooms into a closed chamber for the statue of the deceased, as the old kings of the v. and xiii. dynasties did; not covering the ceilings with the stars of heaven and the walls with pictures of the every-day life of a great sporting farmer, as seen in the tomb of Tih, at Sakkara, or on the walls of Beni Hassan; no, but rather hewing a long tunnel into the solid rock with angles and stairings and crooked passages, upon whose walls should be painted the passage of the soul through its purgatorial cleansings to the hall of blessedness, upon whose doorways and portals would be depicted the adders spitting poison and flame, the guardians of the doors of Heaven. All these passages, with their pictures of the soul passing through torment to rest, ended in a single mortuary chamber far in the hollow womb of the limestone mountain. When the soul should be restored purified, it should enter the barque of the Sun, as the wall pictures would tell us; and there waiting for its resurrection at the end of the 3,000 years the body of the Pharaoh should lie free from harm of man or the unimaginable touch of Time. But how came it about that so many of these tomb-dwellings, though so carefully secluded, when discovered from time to time were found generally empty. Egyptologists were puzzled. The bodies of the kings had been and were not. It was a mystery, and Thebes for a long time distinctly refused to part with its secret. 72 Just beyond the Rameseum, in some of the lines of tombs, four Arabs dwelt whose family name was Abd er Rasoul. From about the year 1871, these men were known to bring and offer to travellers and tourists at Thebes, the hands, the feet, the ornaments of mummies; they dared not dispose of the bodies whole for fear of the bastinado; but in their ignorance of hieratics they did dispose of some very interesting fragments of the ritual of the dead, and some royal scarabs of the xix. dynasty. A Mr. Colin Campbell brought to Cairo a beautiful royal ritual from Thebes, and the Bilak authorities heard of it. There was evidently a good deal of body-snatching going on up at Thebes, and M. Maspero went there. A conference with Daoud Pasha, the then governor, ended in Maspero’s offer of a good large reward for any information that would lead to the apprehension of the mummy finders and mummy sellers. Abd el Rasoul and his brothers were getting desperate. They would have sold Pharaoh for a song, and, indeed, in 1880 he was offered for sale, body and case, to an American, but refused, Yankee fashion, as not being the genuine article. In 1881 suspicion fell upon the elder brother, Achmed, as being in the secret. M. Maspero, with consent of Governor Daoud, had him arrested, and he was marched off to Keneh, and lay in prison for two months. The bastinado, and the bribe Maspero had suggested, were offered him alternately. He was threatened with death, but he was obstinately silent. Meanwhile the younger brother, Mohammed, thought half a loaf better than no bread, and determined for the sake of M. Maspero’s certain backsheesh to get rid of the uncomfortable family secret, and the uncertain chances of more loot from Pharaoh’s tomb. He made a clean breast of the fact of the mummy find, and gave his depositions to the governor. A telegram reached Cairo somewhere about July Ist, 1881, and within a few hours my kind friend, Brugsch Bey, sub-curator of the Bilak Museum. and his trusty assistant, Achmed Kemal, were on their journey 500 miles up Nile to interview the now interesting Rasoul family, and to visit the newest find of Theban mummies. Arrangements were made to meet Mohammed Abd er Rasoul at a remote place in the limestone plateau. On July 5, 1881, Brugsch Bey and his attendant climbed up the scorching difficult cliff, and found behind a huge mass of isolated rock, that looked as a giant had flung it down from the cliff above, a lot of blocks apparently a heap of haphazard, really, a very cleverly contrived bit of human device. The spot was drear and unlikely beyond imagining. ‘‘ That is the place,”’ said the sullen savage-featured Achmed, and in less time than it takes to write it, Brugsch Bey and his men were at work removing the blocks of stone that filled the pit’s mouth. The well, 63 feet square, was found to 73 be endless, as it seemed to them in their impatience to explore. A palm tree was thrown across the well’s mouth, a pulley and tackle rigged up, and swiftly went forward the work under the burning sun. At length the bottom, 40 feet down, was reached ; all the while Brugsch Bey and Achmed Kemal were certainly in danger, for the fanatical robbers round them knew that Brugsch Bey was in reality going to be theirruin. But his rifle was at his shoulder, and so the work went on. At the bottom of the shaft they found an opening running westward about 24 feet into the rock ; on the right and left hands of the wall were various hieratic inscriptions, possibly put there by the priests, the last date of their visit to see if Pharaoh was right. At the end of the 24 feet the passage turned sharply to the right, and went northward. The hearts of the explorers beat fast ; when they lit their torches they found a royal funeral canopy in a heap on the ground, used, perhaps, last when the coffin of one of the kings was floated down to Thebes for burial 1,400 years before Christ. Trinkets, alabaster boxes, bits of papyrus, mummy cloth, and broken coffins strewed the way, and a cluster of coffins nearly blocked it. The explorers were fairly staggered. Boxes were seen piled by the walls, filled as they afterwards found, with statuettes of Osiris, blue enamelled drinking cups for the dead and vases. On pushed Brugsch Bey, and at about 130 feet from the well shaft, he stood at the entrance of a great mortuary chamber 18ft. by 23ft. in floor space, and about 6ft. high. The torch showed that the whole room was packed roof high with royal coffins, and one can well understand that as the torch filled the dark with the reflection of the elaborate paintings on the coffin lids of the illustrious dead, Brugsch Bey felt so dazed that he went straight out of the tomb into the open air of the dying day. with the sort of feeling that on him hung a secret which, unless he lived till to-morrow’s sun, might perish and leave the whole world the poorer. He feared to faint lest the secret should be unrevealed. There was a find of forty royal mummies at once ; the chamber was the mortuary chamber of the priest-king dynasty who reigned over Thebes and Tanis between 1,100 and 1,000 8.c. The bodies had been buried with all the appendages of funeral repast and sepulchral toilet. I saw in the Bilak Museum the wigs in the wig-boxes, curled and frizzled, which one queen hoped to wear at the resurrection morn. Legs or shoulders of mutton, and chickens for the food of the soul in the next world, offerings of fruit, lotus flowers and garlands of acacia, cups of blue enamel, and glass ointment bottles were all found in the cavern chamber up in the lonely Libyan hill. But the find in the chamber was not as interesting as the find in the 74 passage that led to it. Here the mummies of the earlier dynasties, the xviii. and xix., Seti and Rameses were found. And this alone is evidence that the bodies of the great dead had been removed hither for safety or to save expense at some later date from their original tombs. The principal personages found among the forty were a king and queen perhaps of the xvii. dynasty, the Hyksos time, 2243 to 1733 3.0; five kings and four queens of the xvili. dynasty of Thebes, 1700 to 1480 ; the three successive kings of the xix. dynasty, B.c 1400 to 1233, namely, the great Rameses of the Bondage, Rameses IL., his father Seti I., and his grandfather Rameses 1. No bodies of kings of the xx. dynasty were found in the passage. As Brugsch Bey stood in that dark sepulchral cavern chamber and passage, he stood with the illustrious dead of seven centuries, no one of whom was living on this earth at a later date than 1000 Bc., some of whom had fallen asleep and been embalmed as much as 1,700 years before Christ. It was evident from the flowers and wreaths that strewed the passage that M. Maspero’s backsheesh had only been just in time. Close to his brother, Thothmes II., in the passage lay the sarcophagus and coffin of the great Napoleon of old Egypt, the warrior Thothmes III. of the xviii. dynasty ; great in name and deeds of arms, but little in stature, for his mummy only measured five feet two inches. There in his coffin lay the conqueror of Syria, Cyprus, and Ethiopia, and probably had lain since 1600 s.c.; but Abder Rasoul had been at work, the mummy was exposed to view, the bandages had been torn. The next question was—How were these great dead to be removed to their final resting place, the Bulak Museum ? Steamers had been sent for, to come up to Luxor; the bodies and coffin cases must be lifted up the shaft and transported down the difficult cliff side to the Theban plain; they must be ferried across the Nile, and then again borne on the shoulders of men to the Luxor river side. All this Brugsch Bey saw in a moment; off to Luxor he and Kemal went and hired 300 Arabs, and by earliest dawn was busy in the removal and carefully packing of the mummy cases in matting and sail-cloth. Set a thief to catch a thief was Brugsch Bey’s idea, and as he stood on guard at the pit mouth, he told off squads of Arabs to convey each mummy, with another squad to keep guard upon the robber carriers. Night and day the work went on. In forty-eight hours the coffins had been hoisted to the pit’s mouth, and after six days hard labour under a July sun, the whole freight of sailcloth-sewn cases was at the Nile bank, and for three days and three nights brave Brugsch Bey and Effendi Kemal and a few trustworthy Arabs—one of whom may be seen any day in the Balak Museum 75 as a doorkeeper—kept armed watch over the find, amid as fanatical and frantically angry a set of ruffians and body- snatchers as ever Thebes or Luxor had produced. It must have been a stirring sight as Brugsch Bey stood at the shaft mouth and watched the squads carrying their royal burdens over that vast Theban plain. He thus described it to Mr. Wilson :— ‘«‘T shall never forget the scenes I witnessed when standing at the mouth of the Deir el Bahari shaft, I watched the strange line of helpers while they carried across that historical plain the bodies of the very kings who had constructed the temples still standing, aud of the very priests who had officiated in them.”’ The steamer came at last and the mummies were packed aboard, and down the Nile with the curses of Luxor upon their heads, went the party with their convoy of ancient kings. The delay of those three days at Luxor was fatal to their peace. The news that Pharaoh was coming down the Nile had got on ahead, and Brugsch Bey told me that one of the most striking things in the whole journey, to his mind, was the way in which there arose from all the land of Egypt an exceeding bitter cry ; women wailing and tearing their hair, men casting dust into the air, came crowding from the villages to the banks to make lamentation for Pharaoh ; and as in the days more than 8,000 years ago, with wailing and great weeping, the funeral barge had carried the dead kings up Nile and over the sacred Luxor to their rest among the Theban hills; so to-day, with wailing and weeping and gnashing of teeth, and tearing of hair and all the signs of a national lamentation, did the bodies of the mighty Pharaohs sail swiftly down through a land of mourning and sorrow, from their long repose in the Theban valley of the dead, to their final (?) rest at Cairo beside the slimy Nile. In The Academy, of July 3, 1886, a very startling and accurate account is given of the unwrapping of the mummies of Rameses II., the great Sesostris of the Greeks, and Rameses III., which took place at the Balak Museum, on June 1, 1886, in the presence of the Khedive, Moukhtar Pasha Ghazi, Sir Drummond Wolff, and others. All the details of this scene the lecturer gave, describing the different layers of wrappings that enveloped the body, the paintings on fine linen, and the amulet of the goddess Nouit, and then the appearance from beneath its many cerements of the great Sesostris himself; he then proceeded :— In the Salle des Momies, in the Bulak Museum, I saw the great king encircled by his predecessors and successors. Aahmes I, the founder of the xviii. dynasty s.c. 1700, the restorer of the rightful line of Pharaohs after the expulsion of the 76 shepherd kings, Thothmes IL., of the same dynasty, Seti L, the father of Rameses, and the great king of the xx. dynasty, Rameses IIT. Full length within his coffin looking up at me with his proud gaunt face, with his withered hands across his breast, almost in attitude of prayer, the mighty king in his great slumber lay, and I knew what it was to be in the presence of him before whom Egypt trembled, and the Hittites fled, and before whom the Israelites, bowed down in bitter bondage in the brickfields of Rameses and Pithom, cried unto their Lord their God. There the great warrior and builder was taking his rest; he who had escaped from the Hittites’ attack ‘‘ when he was all alone and none other was with him ;” who had burst through the blazing forest of reeds that had near consumed him at Pelusium that day his treacherous brother made him his guest, and would have murdered him as he slept full of wine, he who had faced death in so many ways was now alone and dead, and yet escaped corruption. Now look at the mummy. He fairly fills the coffin length. Yes, though he has shrunk as all dead bodies do, as all old men are shrunk before they die, he measures still more than six feet as he lies. He must have in life been 6ft. 2in. or 6ft. 3in. at least ; a life-guardsman in mould in very truth he must have seemed ; what a length of neck it was ; and swathed though he is in his yellow mummy-cloth shroud of well woven linen, his shoulders are bare to view: what mighty shoulders they were, what breadth of chest must have been his ! As I gazed upon Pharaoh I saw him standing in his chariot once again on that glorious battle-field of Kadesh by the rushing river of Orontes, when “he arose,”’ as the poet Pentaur in his great epic tells us, ‘like unto Month, god of war, and urged on his steeds whose names were ‘ Triumph in Thebes’ and ‘The Divine Mother.’”” None dared follow. He was alone and none other with him. And lo, he was surrounded with the Khetan hosts, 2,500 chariots were around him and countless hosts cut off the way behind. His body-guard had abandoned him, and I seemed to see the great warrior lift himself in his chariot, and cry unto the Lord his God, ‘‘ Where art thou, my Father Amen? Has ever a father forgotten his son? Shall it be for nothing that I have dedicated to thee many a noble temple? What are numberless men against me? More to me is thy power than myriads of men. On thee, Father Amen, do I call.” A light seemed again to come into the warrior’s face, as he felt his prayer was heard. Amen heard his voice and came to his cry. He reached his hand to him, and the warrior shouted for joy. He called out to him, ‘‘ I have hastened to thee, Rameses, wy well beloved ; I am with thee, I am here, thy father, the sun-god Ra: my hand is 77 with thee.’”» So sang the bard, Pentaur, and as we look upon the great king in his coffin, we can see him in fancy in that desperate charge, rushing on his foes like a flame of fire, can see those long hands, that powerful frame, swaying in the terrible contest, and dealing the blows of a giant right and left, while the Hittites fell like chaff before the feet of his horses. “I was changed,” he said, ‘‘ at the voice of Amen, being made like the god Month in my might. 1 grasped the dart with my right hand; I tought with my left, none dared to raise his hand against me; they could not shout nor grasp the spear; their limbs gave way, I made them fall into the water, as the crocodiles fall into the stream. Lach cried to his fellow, it is no mortal man that is against us, it is Seti, it is the god of war.” I think as one realises the stature of Rameses II., and looks on his face in his sleep that knows no waking, one can imagine the awe and terror with which, when roused to passion, this god incarnate must have been invested in court or camp, on throne or battlefield. Let us look at the face closely. In colour it is a light brown, almost yellow in fairness: the head is narrow and is what we should call dolichocephalic, that is, the head is thin and projects far backwards, the length from nose to back of skull very considerable. The forehead is high, but so far from being straight it retreats, and must have in life taken much from the dignity of the face. The eyes are nearer than I expected to see them, nearer together, as I found out afterwards, than his father Seti’s eyes; the eyebrows, to judge from the white hair that still remains, must have been thick; certainly if we may judge from a gem which gives us the portrait of his Mesopotamian mother, Queen Tua, his eyebrows were his mother’s eyebrows. But Pharaoh’s strength of character lies in the nose, the ears, the mouth, and the chin. The nose, unlike his father’s and mother’s, is Napoleonic, a beaked nose. ‘True, the bandages have turned and pressed up the tip, but the great, strong aquiline nose must have been the feature of Pharaoh’s face. The ears were large and flat, larger than any of the royal mummies I examined, great elephant flappers, that stood out from the head. I have often seen such ears associated with love of music, and I do not believe that the poets, such as Pentaur, would have had so much encouragement given them under Rameses II., had not this Pharaoh loved the sound of the harpers. The ears had been bored for jewels, but both lobes had been broken,—by robbers perhaps. The cheek bones were high and prominent, and gave, I daresay, in life a certain haughty overbearing strength to the upper part of the face. I was struck by the length from the nose to the tip. As for the mouth, it had once had lips full-fleshed— fuller fleshed, certainly, than the lips of Seti, his father—and 78 though the mouth was a little brutal, I should think, in life, it did not give me the impression of sensualism or want of refinement. It was a strong mouth, it was a stubborn mouth, it seemed a mouth of contempt and self-will: a mouth of pride, but not necessarily a mouth of animalism. The teeth were white and much worn, but wonderful teeth and well set. The strength of the face was emphasised by the chin. Square and massy with great length from front of chin to ear: not prognathous, but full of power and fire, the pride of the face seemed doubled by the set of that chin. The face was worn and thin ; what old man of near a hundred years would not be; there were slight traces of wrinkles on the brow. As the father of 119 children, 59 sons and 60 daughters—so the outer wall of the temple of Abydos tells us—it might have been supposed that the care of a family would have worn his face, if the care of all Egypt, and the Egyptian court life of 67 years—for the monuments expressly tell us he did reign for 67 years—had not left their mark upon it. Do what I would, I could not see in that proud, obstinate face of the warrior king in his shroud before me, anything that looked like a yielding to the weight of years. There was a kind of ‘‘ What is all this to me; am I not son of the sun, Rameses, favourite of Amen? Shall not my years endure as long as the sun shineth? Will not my sun that sets arise in the morning ?”’ TOM HOOD. By the Rev. 8S. A. STEINTHAL, Vice-President of the Geographical Society, Manchester. Nov. 19th, 1889. Mr. Steinthal said he had to bring before his audience the life and works of an author who had struggled against ill health and pecuniary difficulties, and had succeeded by his power in pathos and humour in winning an honoured name in literature. An invalid from his earliest years, he had written some of his finest poems in times of great physical agony. He was born on May 22, 1799; his father was a bookseller and the writer of two novels. The lad was apprenticed to an uncle and was taught wood-engraving. There was as much humour in Hood’s illustrations as in his writings, as one may see on referring to the woodcuts in his ‘‘ Whims and Oddities.”” Atan early age he lost his father, and soon afterwards his sister, for whom he lamented in the beautiful and pathetic poem which Mr. Steinthal recited, ‘‘ We watched her breathing through the night.” Hood 79 had to abandon wood-engraving, and went to Dundee for a more bracing climate; he stayed there for two years, being engaged in mercantile occupations, but also keeping up his literary work. In 1820 he returned to London, and was associated as sub-editor with Reynolds in the London Magazine. Here he made the acquaintance of many of the chief literary men of the day, among whom were included Charles Lamb, the poet Cunningham, Hazlitt, Talfourd, Barry Cornwall, Cary the translator of Dante, and Dr. Bowring. On May 5, 1824, he married Miss Reynolds, the daughter of the publisher. His first important efforts in the literary world were but ill received. The ‘‘ National Tales” hung fire; he tried to be too serious; the ‘‘ Plea for the Midsummer Night’s Fairies” was a failure ; he bought up the copies himself; in 1826 he brought out ‘“‘ Whims and Oddities,’ which proved a great success. Then the next year came a severe illness, and he was forced to move to the southern coast, choosing Brighton as his domicile; one or two anecdotes of his irrepressible fun in the midst of suffering were here narrated, his wife being in more than one instance the butt of his jokes. Returning from Brighton, he resumed his literary work, and the reader here gave the poem of ‘‘ Eugene Aram.’’ About the same time appeared the first volume of the ‘‘Comic Annual,’ and by these two publications the author attracted the notice of the Duke of Devonshire, who was then finishing the library at Chatsworth ; Hood supplied his patron with comic titles for imaginary books. Fortune at this point turned against Hood, and he lost all his savings, and more besides, by entrusting his money to his publisher. Like Sir Walter Scott, uhder very similar circum- stances, he made up his mind to do his utmost to clear off the heavy liabilities, and the first step towards the economy required was to try a residence abroad. Mr. Steinthal here called attention to Hood’s ‘ Journey up the Rhine,” which is a most amusing and delightful book, and told some good anecdotes of his life in Coblenz and in other places in Germany. Then Hood went to reside at Ostend about 1836 or 1837, and the story of “Miss Kilmansegg and her golden leg” was read at this point. From Ostend he returned to England and became connected with Punch, which was started just about that time, and in that paper first appeared the ‘Song of the Shirt.” On May 3, 1845, he died, and the inséription on his grave, ‘‘He sang the song of the shirt,’ conimemorates one of his latest and most effective poetic efforts. Shortly before he died, he received an intimation from Sir R. Peel that a pension had been awarded to his wife from the fund at the disposal of the Government. Mr. Steinthal concluded by referring to some of his letters which have been preserved, illustrating his love of children, and the pains he took to make his letters to the 80 youngest of his friends amusing and entertaining. Having given during the evening some examples of Hood’s power in the pathetic and melo-dramatic style, he showed from his letters his capabilities in a lighter vein, read one or two of his jocular and punning epistles, and quoted one or two of the short humorous poems with which Hood’s name is so universally associated. THE AUTHOR OF “JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN.” By ARTHUR E. GRANT. 26th November, 1889. Little was said of the beautiful and harmonious life of the authoress, not only because there was little to tell, but on account of Mrs. Craik’s strong dislike of publicity. On this subject she writes in one of her kindly essays with much power and feeling, and is emphatic in her condemnation of those who drag into the daylight of public notice minute details of the lives of celebrities. The object of the essayist was rather to indicate her views on important matters, and to draw attention to that gentle and womanly charm which characterizes her writings. Genius was not hers to command—no sympathetic halo surrounds her like that which lends tragic interest to the history of the Brontes, she was not one of those whose books became famous because they dealt with great national crises or splendid social reforms, but she wrote one story which produced an instantaneous impression, and which, after thirty-five years, still maintains its popularity. Ruskin speaks of ‘ one of the increasing discomforts of my old age in never being allowed by novelists to stay long enough with people I like,” &c.; and he holds the opinion that ‘‘for the general good of society the varied energies and expanding peace of wedded life, would be better subjects of interest than the narrow aim, vain distresses, or passing joys of youth.’’ Miss Muloch, in her most successful books, follows the line suggested by the Professor—she is most at home in her delineation of realistic scenes of domestic comedy and tragedy. She was conscious of the enormous influence the novelist wields and wrote what she deeply felt. Instances were given of the conscientious care she gave to all details. The account of Tewkesbury in “John Halifax,’ is said to be a wonderful 81 description of a place Miss Muloch visited only for one day. The genial authoress had a wholesome love for the theatre. In her last published article we find the words—“ I have been a play- goer for over forty years, during which I have seen many a star rise and set ; in fact the whole dramatic hemisphere has changed, and there have been countless alterations, some for the better and some for the worse. But my hearty love and appreciation of histrionic art has never altered. I now feel a play as keenly as a girl of sixteen, while bringing to it also the cool criticism of a lifetime’s experience.’ In her novels we have clear evidences of this passion for the stage. She looked upon the stage as a great teacher, better than most books and many sermons; but as was natural, she lamented some of the dark spots which have given cause for honest criticism, and she appeals to the chief actors and actresses to lead the public taste instead of following it. The essays and short stories by Mrs. Craik are most readable, being full of gentle philosophy and quiet humour. Her eminently utilitarian mind here found pleasant outlets. In her one volume of poems there are many short ‘‘ swallow-flights of song,’’ quaint and singularly beautiful. The oneness of heart and mind exhibited in her poems, her novels, and her philanthropic work is most marked. And the author of ‘‘ John Halifax, Gentleman ” is not unworthy to be numbered among those whom George Eliot characterised as the ‘‘ immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence.”’ 82 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL AND TYPOGRAPHICAL SOIREE. «“ LETTERPRESS PRINTING AND ILLUSTRATION.” : Emery WAtgEER, (“ English Illustrated Magazine,”) London Directors { ‘ “ pede ; ALFRED STRANGE. December 8rd, 1889. In addition to a series of most interesting photographs of old printed books and manuscripts collected by Mr. Walker, displayed on the screen by aid of the lantern, and comprising among other items a page from Gutenberg’s Bible (the first printed book, date about 1450-5), a leaf from the manuscript of Columella, a printed Livy, 1469, a page from John Spiter’s edition of ‘‘ Cicero’s Letters” (the first book printed in Venice), a leaf from Nicholas Jansen’s edition of the same book, dated 1470, &c., there were placed on the tables for exhibition, a large assemblage of old printed books, many in their original bindings, being contributions kindly lent for the occasion by the Trustees of the Chetham Library, Manchester (through Mr. J. Lancaster) ; the Governors of the Burnley Grammar School (through My. J. Langfield Ward, M.A., Head Master) ; and many private collectors. Among some of the rarest of the exhibits were copies of the following :— “« Augustinus de Civitate Dei.’ Roma, 1470. Third edition. ‘Balbus de Janua Catholicon sine nota.’ Strasburg, 1475 (about). Second edition. ‘Turrecremata expositio super toto Psalterio.” Maintz, 1476. (Bound up with the above was a copy of ‘ Petrus de Crescentius,” the first book printed at Louvain, in 1474). “‘ Fyssher’s Treatyse concerning the fruitful sayings of Dauyd.” London: Wynkyn de Worde, 1508, &c., &c. There were also placed upon the walls some mounted leaves of ancient illuminated vellum MS’s which had been extracted from the binding of a set of Jerome’s Works, together with some folio leaves of Letterpress, printed on paper, by Frobem, of Basle, about 1490. The proceedings were commenced by the reading of a short paper by Mr. Strange, entitled, ‘‘ A Glance at the Literary State of England in the 14th and 15th Century,” of which the following is an epitome :— He said—To those who live in the winter quarter of the 19th century, on the eve of its last decade, face to face with all the literary advantages that a prolific press affords ; it may, perhaps, be interesting to contrast the present with the past, and consider what place literature took in the homes of the Hnglish people before printing was invented, and ere the age of vellum books and illuminated MSS. had passed away. 83 Books of any kind, were, indeed, scarce in English homes a century before one Master Wm. Caxton set up his printing press in Westminster. But they had begun to make their influence felt, and the painstaking illustrations from sundry romances were transferred to the tapestry that covered the uncouth walls of the homesteads of that time. But this only applied to the royal and upper circles, as the homes of the great masses of the population were yet but poor, nor had the spread of learning sufficiently advanced to induce a wide appreciation of the sayings, thoughts, and poems of great men. The century before printing was introduced into this country, was not famous for literary activity. Though it was the age of Chaucer and Wycliff, both representative men, the one rightly styled the tather of our later English poetry, the other the father of our later English prose, yet during this period letters were at a low ebb, and the intellectual life of the nation seemed paralysed and cold. The catalogue of the popular books of the 15th century is therefore not a long one. The works of Petrarch and Boccaccio stand out prominently on the list. Special favourites among the fair sex were the ‘“‘ Romance of the Rose,” ‘The fair Florence de Blanchfleure,’’ and ‘‘ The Story of the 7,000 Virgins,” The Church plays must not be forgotten. They, as acted by the old English Guilds, told of the connection between church and stage long years ago, and their tragic character awoke the interest of all classes. They were the living ‘‘ Biblia Pauperum,” and they did splendid service in bringing home the chief details of Bible story to the common people of the land. In our early library the Chester, York, Wakefield, and Coventry plays have been preserved, and Gower’s ‘‘ Vox Clamantis,” and his “‘ Confessio Amantis,’’ remain unto this day. There was one famous traveller who told the story of his expedition at this period, bold old Sir John Maundeville ; he details marvellous stories, but alas, has the character of having been a plagiarist and prig. But Mr. Morley suggests (in his fourth volume of English writers) ‘that the code of literary morality, at any rate as regards the acknowledgment of obliga- tions, was not so stringent in those days, and he, perhaps, regarded himself justified in adding to the attractiveness of his ‘ Guide to Jerusalem,’ by relating as having happened to himself what he had read about others.”’ This epoch, too, had its ‘‘ Dream Book,” though not of the character of the compendium still popular, it was ‘‘ Langland’s Vision of Piers Plowman,” one of the greatest religious poems of the language, and full of potent far-seeing prophecy and fire. Besides these there was a large contingent of French romances in circulation, but private libraries 84 HE most poorly supplied on account of the great cost of the ooks, But a change was approaching, brought about by a systematic and more rapid transcription of MSS. in the “ Monastic Scrip- torium,” the number of competent scribes increasing as the century advanced, and, as a consequence, so affecting the ‘output’? as to lead to literary treasures becoming more accessible. There was a greater demand for books as the century grew older. Chaucer’s productions had created a positive taste for reading, and his free, plain homely style fascinated the eager reader, and led to a thirst for more. ‘The ecclesiastical and conventual establishments were specially at this period taxed to supply the demand for fiction. It is said that books from the Latin and French were now freely translated and scattered over the country and led to the ‘‘ bookease,”’ up to that time unknown as an article of furniture, being introduced to the English home. They are known to have been carved and ornamented with taste, and the curtains that usually hung before them were as much, perhaps, to hide the scantiness of the stock, as to protect the precious volumes from dust. But itis interesting to know that the scarcity of books was an aid to friendly intercourse in medieval times, the scanty domestic libraries became really lending libraries, and this pleasant interchange of literary treasures was helpful in promot- ing good and kindly feeling among the neighbours of the day. No private library could, however, compete in scholarly wealth and lore with monastic ones, and those who lived near the gates of a great monastery were the best off, and they who had the privilege of using the books knew fully well how to appreciate their good fortune. A reader of that day must have been a learned man, but the percentage of those who had acquired the art, must have been deplorably small. ‘To those who possessed it, the accomplishment was a keen enjoyment, and involved the faculty to translate Greek, Latin, and French, the languages of the books of the period. There could have been but very little hurried reading in those days. The character of the literature, save in the lighter frivolities and love idylls of French romance, and now that of the descriptive Chaucer, would lead to sober, sedate, and thoughtful perusal, which would occupy time, a commodity more at the disposal of the student in those less artificial days. A man who had to translate a book in order to understand it could hardly skim it, but would ponder thoughtfully every paragraph as he laboriously deciphered its illuminated pages. We are justified in concluding that even some well to do families possessed books without always having members of the household who could read them. The visit of the Mendicant Friars to such unfortunate dunces would, therefore, be welcome, 85 if it were only to interpret some of the family MSS., or to read aloud in boudoir or hall out of the folios of the neglected library. The paper concluded by an amusing allusion to the grand old Bibliopole of the epoch, Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, temp. Edward III. ; and a further reference to the part played by the Mendicant Friars, who ceased not to distribute good literature broadcast in appreciative English homes. In this work the influence of these worthy ecclesiastics on the nation was both healthy and satisfactory. Not only were the families living far away from large towns dependent largely on them for an acquaintance with the few books the home possessed, but the sparse library was chiefly augmented from the treasures they brought. They were the colporteurs of their day, and they brought with them on their journeys a wholesome literature, a progressive learning, a good example, and a living faith. They loved, and they lived for, their work. Their lives were none of the easiest, their self-denial was apparent to the minds of men, and as they plodded on they helped to mould the national character, to elevate and instruct the people, and make men ripe to receive those unparalleled blessings of intellectual light and wisdom which, through the aid of the printing press, were about to burst upon the world. An opportunity having been given for the inspection of the exhibits, Mr. Emery Walker next gave his lecture on ‘ Letterpress Printing and Illustration,’ of which the following is the substance :— He said, that although the term letterpress printing covered the whole field of work produced in the typographic press, the particular branch to which most of his observations would refer was that usually called book work, and he would only incidentally allude to jobbing—which comprised circulars, cards, posters, and commercial work generally. Type and paper, it was remarked, may be said to be to a printed book what stone, or bricks and mortar, were to architecture. They were the essentials, without which there could be no book in the one case and no architecture in the other. This was further illustrated by the lecturer remarking that it was not . paintings, carving, or decorations which had the first cousidera- tion, but the walls, floors and roofs. Printing, like all other arts and crafts, had its position and scope defined mainly by the mechanical conditions under which it was exercised, and it was only when it was carried on strictly with reference to these limitations that it was entitled to be considered an art at all. The lecturer, having touched upon several instances of 86 the want of taste in suitable pictorial decoration, said such misapplied designs in the arts of carpet-weaving, metal working, and pottery were paralleled with printing type which copied the peculiarities and excellencies of copper-plate writing, and with press work which endeavoured to imitate lithographic printing. The question was what were the limitations beyond which one must not stray, and how were they to be discovered? The lecturer thought it would be admitted that in making the most beautiful book possible (without any regard to the cost of production) they would have to use a hand-made paper. Again, small types, although very useful for books of reference and for economising space in cheap books, were not so readable as large ones, besides being wanting in true dignity and grace of the bigger letters; therefore the largest type must be used, always considering it in reference to the size of the page. Having seen that the type and paper were as good and as suitable as could be found, care must next be taken if illustrations were to be introduced that they really ornamented the book by harmonising with the type, for it was shown by the works of the early printers that a book may be really beautiful without a single illustration. It was thought by many that an illustration was always ap improvement to a book. The lecturer said it may be in one sense, if it assisted in elucidating the text, but unless the designer and engraver thought also of its artistic relation to the type, it would not add toits beauty. The dominat- ing factor ina beautiful book must be the type. The lecturer said as there was an underlying assumption that ‘‘ a book is intended to be read,” the best type was that which was most readable. Letters were purely arbitrary forms, and they could not go to nature for inspiration for their shapes. There was not, what may be called a living standard of beautiful letters in our current handwriting, but they could see in the types of the early printers and in the handwriting of their contemporaries, the caligraphers, the utmost beauty of form which the present alphabet was perhaps capable of receiving. It was impossible to suddenly change the faces of our types. The law of evolution applied here as in the natural world, and our letters were the lineal descendants of those of the fifteenth century printers. The lecturer announced his intention of showing upon a screen some enlarged photographs of printed books and MSS., pro- duced at the end of the fifteenth and during the early part of the sixteenth centuries, in order to illustrate the intimate relationship subsisting at that time between the forms of written and printed letters. | Before doing so, he explained in what way modern type printing differs from the method used in the block books which has been practised in China for centuries, and a Japanese wood block was shown. ‘The inventor, speaking of him 87 as an individual, remained unknown. Mr. Talbot Reed’s book on ‘‘ English Letter Foundries,” the lecturer said was the best historical work in the language, and there it was stated that the man who invented typography was doubtless the man who invented moveable type, or in other words, he who invented the adjustable type mould. The lecturer then proceeded to give a rudimentary demonstration of typefounding exhibiting and explaining the various implements and ingredients used in connection with the operation. The labour, he pointed out, was the same whether the face be ugly or handsome. So, too, with ‘‘ setting up,’ Consideration of expense need not deter them from possessing fine printing when once the punches have been cut. Typefounding was now carried on as a craft apart from that of the printer, but in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and in the early part of the seventeenth centuries, printers generally cast their own type, even if they did not cut the punches. Having given the names of the various parts of the type, the lecturer said the type-mould remained to-day much the same in principle as that used four centuries ago, but maehines were now used to open and close the mould and to eject the letter. In the following part of the lecture there was introduced a number of illustrations, the first being a photograph taken from a block book, the ‘‘ Ars Moriendi.”” It was a specimen page of a book before moveable type, and before a press was used for taking impressions. Mr. De Vinne, the lecturer remarked, was of opinion that the impressions were taken with what was called a proof planer, an instrument, as far as he could learn, not used in England. They would see that this method was much more in common with the Chinese mode than with our printing. They would also notice that the lettering which accompanied it was cut on the same block and formed a part of the design. View No. 2 was a page of a German missal written at Cologne in 1451. This was chosen as a specimen of an ordinary MS. book, contemporary with the invention of printing. The writing was beautiful, and generally clear, and he asked them to note carefully the forms of the letters and the general appearance of the page for comparison with the next photograph. The difference from a printed book of the same country and period was slight. The lecturer next showed a page from the first edition of the first book printed. It was known to bibliographers as the 42-line Bible, and formerly it was called the magazine or Guttenberg Bible. It was printed at Mentz, between the years 1450 and 1455, probably by Peter Schoeffer. It was the earliest book known, and some enthusiasts say the finest. The lecturer said the presswork has never been surpassed in excellence. The colour of the ink was absolutely black, and it was uniformly distributed on the type from the first page to the last. The register was perfect. The paper was all 88 that could be desired for a folio volume, being as white as desirable without the use of bleaching materials. It was said that the ink in early books was mixed with gum and not with burnt oil, which formed the basis of the printing ink to-day. If this were so, the fact would account for the absence of the brown stain which disfigures so many sixteenth and seventeenth century novels. The next photograph showed both print and M§., being a part of a page of a missal printed at Bainberg, by Sensenschmidt, in 1481, and some lines from a MS. missal written at Wartzburg in 1470 or 1480. In the fifteenth century the gothic form of letter—black letter as it is called—was in universal use in the north of Europe. In Italy the gothic writing had already been abandoned, and when printing was introduced into that country by Sweynheim and Panwartz, in 1465, it was found those printers cut the punches for their types on Italian models. A page from an Italian MS., dated 1451, was shown. The book was ‘An epitome of the history of Pompeius, ” by Justin, a Latin historian of the second or third century. From that form of handwriting the type that nearly all western nations have adopted, originated. It was the parent of our Roman letter. The next photograph was an early example of the type alluded to. It was a page from Livy’s “‘ History of Rome,” printed at Rome in 1469, by Sweynheim and Panwartz, It was remarked that the large initial letter was added by hand by an illuminator, who, at the same time, added touches of colour to the capital letters. The Italian writing of this period, the lecturer remarked, was so beautiful, and its connection with contemporary type so intimate, that he hoped to emphasize the point by showing other slides. The next was an example of an exquisite handwriting, with more relation in the shapes of the letters apart from the angle of inclination to the type called italic. It was from a treatise upon agriculture, written about the years 1480 or 1490. A page was shown from the first book printed in Venice, by John Spiers, in 1469, printing in Venice being introduced four years after its introduction into Italy. A page from Cicero’s letters to Brutus, printed at Venice, by Nicholas Jenson, in 1470, was also shown. From this point the lecturer went on to tell his audience about Aldus, who was the first publisher to start cheap books, who dropped abbreviations, and had his type cut by Francia pictor et aurifex who was said to have taken it from Petrarch’s hand- writing. He exhibited a page of the copy-book of Vicentino, the great Venetian writing master, which was greeted with a spontaneous round of applause, and made some_ excellent suggestions about improving modern copy-books and avoiding slanting writing. A superb Plautus, printed at Florence in 1514, for Lorenzo di Medici, Polydore Virgil’s History with the fine ee 89 Holbein designs, printed at Basle in 1556, and other interesting books were also exhibited on the screen, the size of course being very much enlarged. He spoke of Elzevir in the seventeenth century, when handwriting began to fall off, and of the English typefounder Caslon, and of Baskerville, whose type was possibly designed by Hogarth, but is not very good. Latin, he remarked, was a better language to print than English, as the tails of the letters did not so often fall below the line. The wide spacing between lines occasioned by the use of a lead, he pointed out, left the page in stripes, and made the blanks as important as the lines. Margins should of course be wide, except the inner margins, and head lines often robbed the page of its beauty of design. Referring to illustration, the essential thing, Mr. Walker said in concluding, is to have harmony between the type and the decoration. He pleaded for true book-ornament as opposed to the silly habit of putting pictures where they are not wanted, and pointed out that mechanical harmony and artistic harmony went hand in hand. No ornament or illustration should be used in a book that cannot be printed in the same way as the type. For his warnings he produced Rogeyr’s “ Italy ’’ with a steel-plate engraving, and a page from an American magazine which, being florid, pictorial, and bad, was greeted with some laughter, For examples we had a lovely Boccaccio printed at Ulm, and a page out of ‘‘ La Mer des Histoires,” printed in 1488. Blake and Bewick were also shown, and a page of music designed by Horne. 90 SICILY. By W. ANGELO WADDINGTON. December 10th, 1889. Mr. Waddington dealt at length with the history of this interesting island—‘ the golden fairy land of the antique world.” He observed that Sicily was the key to Italy, and its importance was summarized in the expression ‘without Sicily, Italy is nothing.” To most the mention of Sicily called up the thought of brigandage. Though this curse still survived, it might be said to be almost stamped out: and civilization was making substantial progress. The true glory of Sicilian annals, said Mr. Waddington, begun in the year 734 B.C., when the city of Syracuse was founded by the Corinthians. ‘Then followed the invasions by the Carthaginians, the Romans, and the Saracens, the last named occupying the island for 200 years. Subsequently the Normans and French held sway: next it became a dependency of the Spanish crown, and then in 1861, along with other states it was united to the kingdom of Italy. Its history was thus a chequered and eventful one, and the remains of the powers that had successively controlled the island furnished some of its chief attractions. The relics of ancient art with which Sicily abounded were beautiful in their dissolution: and were not at variance with the lovely natural scenery which richly adorned the island. A well-known proverb said ‘‘See Naples and die.”” Mark Twain had said that there nature and artistic beauty were not surpassed, but Mr. Waddington observed that in his opinion the beauties of the bay of Naples could not compare with the exquisite scenery at Taormina. The lecturer then proceeded to describe the different places visited. The promontory adjacent to Palermo, to which place he sailed from Naples, was perhaps the grandest in the world. ‘he Cathedral and palace of the capital were two architectural gems. The Capella Palatina was the loveliest of chapels ; its real interest was found in the golden blaze of its matchless mosaics. There was not to be found an example where mosaics and marble were so rich in detail and so lustrous. Reference was made to the curious catacombs where thousands of bodies are well embalmed, and placed in all sorts of positions. The street scenes were well depicted, with the quaint bullock- waggons, the gaudy harness of the mules, and the costumes of the people. Attention was then drawn to Girgenti, a place on the south coast formerly possessing 800,000 inhabitants, re- nowned for its luxury and splendid buildings. The temple of Jupiter was of stupendous proportions. Its pillars, some of which remain, were 14 feet in diameter, and the flutings were 91 capacious enough to holda man, Interesting comments were made upon the construction of this and similar erections, the principles upon which they had been built, shewing that the architects were capable and conscientious men. After alluding to the lazy contentment which appeared to prevail throughout the island, the slowness of the railway travelling, and other features of the life of the island, the lecturer gpoke of Catania and the great voleano Etna. That great mountain which rears its head to the height of 11,000 feet demanded a paper to itself. The ascent takes two days. The ancient city of Syracuse was next described. It was said that at one time it was the largest and most beautiful of Greek cities, being 22 miles in circuit, possessing fine buildings and having a population of 500,000. In traversing the extensive ruins of that historic town, the visitor ‘treads on the dust and rust of twice ten hundred years.’’ The famous siege by the Athenians was graphically portrayed, and the salient points in the history of Syracuse dwelt upon. It was a strange place for a strange people: for its streets were simply cracks, in which it was impossible for a carriage to turn. Its castle represents the military engineering of 2,200 years ago. Then there remain the Greek Theatre, hewn out of the rock, capable of seating 25,000 spectators; and the Roman Amphi- theatre. The city also possesses vast catacombs. The paper finally dealt with the unmatched beauties of Taormina—a place perched high up amongst the hills, and close to the straits of Messina. The lecturer pictured in glowing language its rock- built town—with its oriental water-carriers and its lithe and handsome men. The girls with the varied hues of their garments, their native beauty and graceful pose, and the fountains of water by which they were often seen, reminded one of Alma Tadema’s unrivalled productions. The view from the Greek Theatre was said to be the finest in the world. The visitor stood amongst refined associations, surrounded with perfection of beauty of form and colour, and examples of surpassing fairness in nature and art. It was an inestimable privilege to witness such a capti- vating scene. You saw the rocky mountain ridges, and Htna towering in the distance; around you was the white Town cut out of the rock, with its picturesque towers and ruins lovely in their decay ; beneath lay the sea slumbering in deep blue, and beyond the strait of Messina, on the bordering rocks of which towns are perched here and there, are visible the outlines of the mountains of Calabria. At the conclusion of the paper numerous illustrations of the principal scenes were given by means of Mr. Drew’s magnificent lantern, Mr. Waddington briefly naming and describing them. 92 DINNER. December 20th, 1889. The Annual Dinner was held at the Bull Hotel on Friday, December 20th, 1889, the President, IF’. J. Grant, Esq., J.P., in the chair, and attended by 41 members. The toast list was as follows :— 1. The Queen—responded to by the Mayor,- Alderman Thornber, J.P. 2. Prosperity to the County Borough of Burnley, J. Kay, Esq., J.P.—responded to also by the Mayor. 8. Success to the Club—The President. 4. Literature—Rev. T. Leyland. 5. Art—T. Roberts. 6, Science—Councillor Parkinson. 7. The President—J. Rawlinson, Esq., J.P. 8. The Mechanics’ Institution— Mr. Jno. Whittaker — responded to by Mr. OC, M. Foden. 9. The Secretary—Mr. W. Southern—responded to by Mr. W. Thompson. 10. The new Members—Mr. W. Thompson—responded to by Mr. Thomas C. Smith, of Longridge. During the evening songs were rendered by Mr. J. Stansfield Sutcliffe, Dr. Pullon, and Mr. T. Crook; while Mr. Henry Houlding, one of the Vice-Presidents, gave a Recitation at the express desire of the guests. ‘The proceedings were brought to a close by singing the usual patriotic songs. EXCURSION. Manchester Ship Canal, June 26th, 1889. On June 28rd, 1888, the Club had undertaken in conjunction with the Manchester Geographical Society an Excursion to the Eastham end of the Canal; it was thought that this year a visit to the Manchester end would form an attraction both to those who had been on the previous expedition, and to those who had been unable to go. 54 members and friends responded to the circular, and were ably guided by Councillor Bosdin T. Leach, who drew up an Itinerary to be pursued. The trip was most successful and interesting throughout. 93 The following is the Itinerary : “On arriving at Stickens Cut on the Irlam Road a short walk will take the party to the Works. The first stage of inspection will be one of about 2 miles to Barton Bridge, and on the way it will be interesting to note how successfully the engineers have overcome the wrigglings of the river. A short length of completed canal will be found in this section with the stone packing finished on either side. An operation of much interest in the work- ings later on, will be the removal of Brindley’s Old Aqueduct which carries the Bridgewater Canal Branch across the Irwell at Barton, and the substitu- tion of a swivel aqueduct over the Ship Canal. This work is necessary because the level of the Bridgewater Canal must be kept undisturbed. Brindley’s celebrated Aqueduct at Barton, therefore, becomes a unique object of interest as its days are now numbered, and it will soon give place to the novelty of a ‘‘ Swinging Caisson.” At this point the excavation for the Sluices and Docks assume large dimensions and will be an element of attraction—here the work has been carried on through red sand stone—a quantity of which has been quarried for use in various parts of the workings.” ‘**On reaching Eccles (1 mile further, where if required Busses are avail- able) the route lies directly towards the Salford Sewage Works at Mode Wheel, where the Trafford Locks are being built to the South of the Cemetery. It perhaps may be interesting to state here that the whole of the canal banks or walls, from the beginning as far as these locks, are to form con- tinuous quays, with above five miles of frontage. This is one of the places where it was necessary to work night and day, that the lock building might begin with summer weather. The river course near here had to be diverted for about 50 yards of its length. The matter dug out is mainly gravel and clay. Outside the Trafford locks the canal level is lowered 16 ft., and near Eccles comes a severe cutting through solid rock, the stone from which helps in building a long boundary for Trafford Park.” ** At Throstle Nest Docks an additional 2} miles will have been traversed and in this section an opportunity will be afforded for the close inspection of the three large docks on the Salford side, now almost walled round. The 5 smaller slips or docks also, but on the Manchester side of Old Trafford Road, likewise merit attention.” ‘“The visitors will have now arrived near to the former entrance of Pomona Gardens, the terminus of their expedition. They will find them- selves close to the Bus route of the Old Trafford thoroughfare from whence exit from the workings can conveniently be made.” RECEPTION AT TOWNELEY HALL BY LADY O’HAGAN. (July 27th, 1889.) On Saturday afternoon, July 27th, the members were received by Lady O’Hagan at Towneley Hall. The weather was charm- ingly bright and sunny, and the garden party which was attended in great numbers formed in every sense of the word a splendid success. The kindness of Lady O’Hagan in placing the historic Hall and grounds at the disposal of the members was fully appreciated, and the occasion formed one of the most pleasant ‘*local” afternoons ever enjoyed by the Club. 94 LIBRARY. The Publications of the Lancashire and Cheshire Record Society, as follows :— Vol. 1.—1878.—‘ Lancashire and Cheshire Church Surveys,” ” ” ” ” ” ” ” 1649 to 1655. 2.—1879.—‘* An Index to the Wills and Inventories in the Court of Probate at Chester,’’ 1545 to 1620. 3.~ 1880.—‘‘ Lancashire Inquisitions,’”’ now existing in the Publi Record Office, London, Stuart Period. Part i, to 11, James 1: 4,—1881.—‘“ An Index to the Wills and Inventories in the Court of Probate at Chester,’ 1621 to 1650. 5.—1881.—‘‘ Registers of the Parish of Prestbury,” 1560 to 1636. 6.—1882.—‘‘ Cheshire and Lancashire Funeral Certificates,” 1600 to 1678. 7.—1882.—‘ Lancashire and Cheshire Records,” preserved in the Public Record Office, London, Part I. 8.—1882.—‘ Lancashire and Cheshire Records,” preserved in the Public Record Office, London, Part II. 9 —1884.—‘‘ Rolls of Burgesses at the Guilds Merchant of the Borough of Preston,” 13897 to 1682. 10.—1884.—‘‘ Laneashire Wills proved at Richmond,’’ 1457 to 1680. 11.—1885.—-‘‘ Lancashire and Cheshire Exchequer Deposi- tions by Commission,” 1558 to 1702. 12.—1885.—*‘ Miscellanies, relating to Lancashire and Che- shire,” Vol. I. 13.—1886.—*‘ Lancashire Wills proved at Richmond,” 1681 to 1748. 14.—1886.—“ Annales Cestrienses.”’ 15.—1887.—“‘‘ Wills at Chester,’’ 1660 to 1680. Reports and Proceedings of the following Societies :— Manchester Field Naturalists’ and Archeologists’ Society, 1860, (the year of its formation), to 1879 (1871 excepted), 1884, 1885. Manchester Scientific Students’ Association (Established 1861), 1878, 1879, 1883, 1884, 1885. Manchester Geographical Society (Established 1885), Journal for 1885 in 4 volumes, 1886 in 4 volumes; 1887-8, current parts for 1889. Catalogue of Exhibition of Appliances used in Geographical Education (held March and April, 1886). Report of Educational Committee, and Addresses delivered in connection with the Exhibition. a 95 Transactions of the Historic Society of Lancashire and Cheshire. Vol. xxxili., 1880-1; Vol. xxxiv., 1881-2; Vol. xxxv., 1883; Vol. xxxvi., 1884; Vol. xxxvii., 1885; Vol. xxxviil., 1886. Liverpool Literary and Philosophical Society (Established 1812), 1883-4. Liverpool Geological Association (Established 1880), 1880-1, 1881-2, 1882-3, 1883-4, 1885-6, 1886-7. Liverpool Science Students’ Association (Established 1881), 1883-4, 1884-5, 1886-7. Chester Society of Natural Science (Established 1872), Reports for 1878-9, 1879-80, 1880-1, 1881-2, 1882-3, 1883-4, 1884-5, 1885-6, 1886-7, also Proceedings, Vols. 1, 2, 3. Cumberland and Westmoreland Association for the Advancement of Literature and Science (Established 1876), No. IX., 1883-4, No. X., 1884-5, No. XII., 1886-1887. Halifax Literary and Philosophical Society (Established 1831), 1883-4. Huddersfield Naturalists’ Society, 1883, Part I. Leicester Literary and Philosophical Society (Established 1835), 1883-4. Reports and Proceedings of the Manchester Field Naturalists’ and Archeologists’ Society, 1887. Manchester Microscopical Society Transactions, 1887. North Staffordshire Naturalists’ Field Club and Archeological Society, 1883-4, 1884-5, 1886-7, 1888. Sheffield Literary and Philosophical Society (Established 1822), 1878, 1879. Montreal Natural History Society (Established 1832), ‘‘ The Canadian Record of Science,’”’ Vol. I., Nos. 8, 4. Vol. IL., Nos. 1, 4. Types of Sepulchral Urns, H. Colley March, M.D., (London). Year Book of the Scientific and Learned Societies of Great Britain and Ireland, 1884, 1885, 1886. «A Synopsis of the British Mosses,” by Chas. P. Hobkirk, F.L.8. «¢ Art in Lancashire and Cheshire ;”’ a List of Deceased Artists, with Brief Biographical Notes. By John H. Nodal. Catalogue of the Towneley Library, sold in London, June 18th to 26th, 1883. Catalogue of the Towneley Manuscripts, sold in London, June 27th and 28th, 1883 (containing prices realised ) Baptisms and Anniversaries, &c., 1705. Manuseript, evidently the Memorandum Book of a Priest who entered upon his duties as Chaplain of Towneley, on the Vigil of St. John the Baptist, 1705. John Towneley’s Diary, 1807, with Catalogue of his Library— Manuscript. John Towneley’s Account Book, 1601-8. 96 The following papers have been read before the Club :— *«« Geoffrey Chaucer,’’ by Henry Houlding, read January 18th, 1874. «The Philosophy of Recreation,” by J. C. Brumwell, M.D., read January 27th, 1874. [1875. *«** Hdmund Spenser,” by Henry Houlding, read October 26th, “The Dietetic Value of Alcohol,” by J. W. Anningson, L.R.C.P., read September 16th, 1879. *« The Burnley Grammar School Library,’’ by J. Langfield Ward, M.A., read February 22nd, 1881. ‘* Science Two Hundred Years Ago,” by C. P. Hobkirk, F.L.S., Huddersfield, read March 9th, 1881. ‘The Efficiencies of Gas and Steam Motors,” by Thomas Holgate, read October 17th, 1882. ‘‘Odours, Perfumes, and Flavours,” by Alfred Henry Mason, F.C.8., Liverpool, read February 20th, 1883. “Some aspects of Destructive Distillation,” by Thomas Holgate, read March 8rd, 1885. ‘Sanitary Matters—Past and Present,’’ by T. N. Dall, read March 10th, 1885. *« Bi-metallism,’’ by Joshua Rawlinson, February 8th, 1887. Those marked * may be purchased, price 6d. each. Account of Excursion to Irlam Hall, near Manchester, June 1st, 1878, by the Urmston and Flixton Literary and Scientific Society. Account of Excursion to Knutsford and Nether Tabley, July 17th, 1878, by the Urmston and Flixton Literary and Scientific Society. “ Technical Industrial Education in connection with Mechanics’ Institutions and other kindred Associations,” by Edward T. Bellhouse, a paper read before the Manchester Statis- tical Society, April 13th, 1881. Guide to Cambridge, by G. M. Humphrey, M.D., F.R.58. The Railway Traveller’s Walk through Cambridge. Guide to Chester and its Environs, by Thomas Hughes, F.5.A. Handbook to Ely Cathedral. Photographs may be obtained of the following :— Ancient Market Cross and Stocks, Church Street, Burnley, removed May 24th, 1881. Old Houses in Church Street, Burnley, pulled down May, 1881. Price 1s. and 2s. according to size. The four Cinerary Urns discovered in the neighbourhood of Burnley. Price 6d. and 1s. Transactions of the Burnley Literary and Scientific Club, Vol. I., LSSoe Vol 1884. Viole SS 5en Voll VeelSSGr Vol. V., 1887, Vol. VI., 1888, Vol. VII., 1889., may -be obtained. Price 2s.6d. each. 97 ‘TIID WOXOn) ‘j99a100 PUNOF puv pouruMexny 6 OT LITE 6 OL LITE c OL 9 4 ah eousraxatere eualeie take! leer one OLG [1G ‘“c 2 fF (OO Pree eeeseseseessssyvood onbayg 6c 9 61 GL eee eee eee eee eee ‘Op ‘ommqiuin iT “a Il 0 8 ee ee ae ee teeeeeees TaquIByO Jlounop “op ‘Suruve[O ‘suryureg ‘ G@ ‘°** Jood otf} 09 sxdTg 9A0}G sBy * g PDN iN CAO Te ie ale cia Sees] 5 9) “ec @ SeA0}G sv Oo} “ow ‘sedrg surxiq “* 0 pth LT 5).0) “quo ‘BA049 SB) ‘Ton “cs FL ‘TRH UMOT, Ul suotzesteauoD ‘ OL teeeeeeeceeees sostodxm LOUUICT “ee fF ‘‘''**** WOWSTULUOD S,coyoaT[OH ‘ LZ ral Cie ake Mergen apeieelee* STO RA Y}IM uoTjosuu0d ur sasuedxy ‘ G 0 ey TOISSIUIMLOD yueg oe I z Cr ee SUIST}IOAPY oe Il 9 ed eoUBpue}}V oe 7% OT OL ''''*'** Arouoneyg pus Sunamg “ 10 «*'*' plos suorovsuvry, Jo satdop 10F poatoooy L PE ccc? TRA UOT, Ul euorZBsTEATOD OL 0 ee {YOIg UOIsIMoXy [BUBO diyg “c GT 6 mfarolelseyadeleyelehareiereits as ecelelene.eleieiwls eleiei- iin rope My AOLUTG 4c 0 F eee tees were woes esueiyg “ITA red ‘paatooayy query “c LL 0 DOD DOO COOL TOO IUCN ODOM OUOO ssh (hoqp goats “ 0 88 sees we eee eee ee ee wee eee SUOT}dIIOsqng ,Sloequleyy OT, mooovuvnnwneso co =. | Fae ass eAinle, wlevevelnae snes SOA BISOs iT fF t teeeeeceeceessee (grax OA}) Ayoroog jworydvasoexy zysoyouryy “‘ 0 9 “"""** JaqureypD [LounoD Jo yuoy “ —G688T “ISTE 00d GLP CO ee ee ee) souvleg AG—'ggsl ‘ISTE ‘00d i i) SOUS OG* =) = moooo toe os a Q “AD "BBBL ‘ISLE woquie0eq Sulpus ue, OY} JOH JUNODOY SYouNnseed | SUL Fic 98 HONORARY MEMBERS. PAST AND PRESENT. Year of Election. 1874 Col. Fishwick, F.S.A., Rochdale. 1874 Thos. Mackereth, F.R.A.S., Manchester. 1875 Rev. J. S. Doxey, Bacup. 1876 William Naylor. 1876 Philip Gilbert Hamerton. 1877 W.B. Bryan, C.E., London. 1877. F. J. Faraday, F.5.5., F.L.S., Manchester. 1877. G. P. Hobkirk, F.L.S., Huddersfield. 1877. Edwin Waugh, Manchester. 1877 J. H. Nodal, Manchester. 1877 Samuel Laycock, Blackpool. 1877 BR. RB. Bealey. 1877. W. A. Abram, J-P., F.B.H.S., Blackburn. 1877 D. Morris, B.A., F.G.5., London. 1877 Joseph Hough, M.A., F.R.A.5S. 1878 Alf. H. Mason, F.C.5., Montreal. 1879 H. Stolterfoth, M.A., M.D., Chester. 1879 Jno. Edw. Price, BS ekteo- bi, London. 1880 Chas. Rowley. junr., Manchester. 1881 Jas. Croston, F.S.A., Prestbury. 1884 Jas. Monckman, D.Sc., Perowne Street, Cambridge. 1886 ‘Tattersall Wilkinson, Swinden, Burnley. 1887 Sagar, Benjamin, Manchester. 1887 Houlding, Henry, Burnley. 1889 McKay, James, F.R.H.S., London. MEMBERS. Anningson, Dr. J. Wo tak. C.P Yorkshire Street. Armistead, Wm., 36, Belvedere Road. Barlow, J-A., 2, Padiham Road. Baron, Arthur, 22, St. Matthew’s Street. Barnes, John, Rose Hill Road. Bell, Thomas, 14, Grimshawe Street. Berry, James, Brookside. Birnie, Joseph, Post Office. Birtwistle, T., Belvedere Road. Bolton, Edgar, Bank Hall Terrace. Bradley, John, 21, St. James’s Street. Briggs, Dr. H., J.P., 68, Bank Parade. 99 Briscombe, Rev. W., Prospect Terrace. Brotherton, Lawrence, H'xwpress Office. Brotherton, H, Preston Guardian Office. Brown, Dr. J., Bank Parade. Broxup, J. Greenwood, Gannow House. Broxup, John, Gannow House. Brumwell, Dr. J. C., J.P., Hargreaves Street. Buleock, Henry, Hargreaves Street. Burrows, Thomas, 26, Padiham Road. Butterworth, John, junr., J.P., Brooklands Road. Butterworth, Tom, Brooklands Road. Button, F.S., Corporation Offices. Carman, Mark C., B.A., 109, Rectory Road. Calvert, A.E., Oak Mount, Nelson-in- Marsden. Clement, Leonard, Forest View. Colbran, W.H., Bank Parade. Collinge, John, Spring Hill. Collinge, James, Brooklands Road. Collinge, John §., J.P., Park House. Collinge, William, J.P., 110, St. James’s Street. Cooke, Samuel, 5, Carlton Road. Cowgill, Bryan H., 48, Manchester Road. Crabtree, Robert, Brooklands Road. Crook, Campbell, Osborne Terrace. Crook, Thomas, Rose Hill Road. Dean, Dr. Thomas, Manchester Road. Drew, Alexander, Holme Lodge. Duckworth, Joshua, 6, Manchester Road. Dufton, A., B.A., B.Sc., Grammar School. Durham, Rev. W.E., M.A., St. Matthew’s Vicarage. Kastwood, Henry, 40, St. James’s Street. Edmondson, Thomas, J.P., Fern Hill. Ferguson, James, M.L.R.C.P., Colne Road. Flack, Fred., Accrington Road. . Fletcher, J.H., Healey Grange. Fleming, J.G., Spring Terrace, Habergham. Foden, C.M., 4, Sefton Terrace. Folds, James, J.P., Brunshaw. Folds, James, junr., Fair View Road. Forrest, A.J., Towneley Lodge. Foster, Frederick, Carlton Road. Fox, Charles, 12, Nicholas Street. Gill, George, Woodleigh. Grant, Fred, J., J.P., Bank Parade, 100 Grant, W. Lewis, 22, Carlton Road. Grant, James, 14, Manchester Road. Grant, Arthur E., 14, Palatine Square. Gray, Nathan P., J.P., Manchester and County Bank. Greenwood, James, J.P., 188, Manchester Road. Handsley, Robert, J.P., Reedley Lodge. Harwood, Dr. T., Wilfield House. Hargreaves, W.C., Bankfield Villas. Harrison, J. Dilworth, Sunny Bank. Haslam, Tom, Healey Mount. Heaton, Tom, 1, Palatine Square. Hesketh, James, 189, St. James’s Street. Hey, Alfred, Lark Hill. Hey, W.H., Nelson. Higgin, Cain, 37, Rectory Road. Hill, Fred. H., Thorn Hill. Hoghton, Thos., 1, Carlton Road. Hoghton, W.H , 1, Carlton Road. Holden, John, Holme View. Holden, Ralph, Brooklands Road. Holden, Thomas, Chancery Street. Holden, E., 42, Colne Road. Holgate, James, 3, Elm Street. Holt, Dr.. Holme View. Horn, J.S., 15, Palatine Square. Horner, Thomas, 67, Standish Street. Houlden, John Wm., The Cemetery. Howard, William R., Grimshaw Street. Howarth, Adam, Union Workhouse. Howorth, John, J.P., Park View. Howson, Charles J., Craven Bank, Nelson. Hudson, Samuel, 9, Sefton Terrace. Jobling, Albert, Carlton Road. Jobson, Rev. E., B.A., S. Luke's Vicarage, Brierfield. Jones, Edward, Prospect Terrace. Kay, James, J.P., Towneley Villa. Kay, W. E., Warm Lake, Sutton, Kent. Kay-Shuttleworth, Right Hon. Sir U.J., Bart., M.P., Gawthorpe Hall. Lancaster, Alfred, Fern Bank, Coal Clough Lane. Lancaster, James, Carlton Road, Lancaster, Wm., junr., 13, Carlton Road. Lawson, Dr. §., Brierfield. Lea, Richard §., 66, Albion Street, 101 Lee, George, 96, South Parade. Leyland, Rev. Thomas, Shakespeare Terrace. Lloyd, Thomas, B.A., Sefton Terrace. Lupton, Arthur, 22, Carlton Road. Lupton, J. T., 28, Manchester Road. Lupton, William, Trafalgar House. Lupton, William H., Trafalgar House. Mackenzie, Dr. James, Bank Parade. Massey, J. Bennett, 64, Burns Street. Mitchell, Christian, Bank Hall Terrace. Monk, Josiah, Brookfoot, Padiham. Moore, B., Gazette Office. Mossop, William, Bank Parade. Mozley, H., Queen’s Gate, Colne Road. Myers, Fred., Westgate. Nelson, Richard, 11, Nicholas Street. Nicoll, Peter L., Manchester Road. Nowell, Thomas, Healey Grange. Nutter, Henry, 44, Queen’s Gate. Ogden, Geo. C., Thorn Hotel. O’Sullivan, Dr. D. A., Westgate. Owen, Rev. J. M. Dorset, M.A., Holy Trinity Vicarage. Parker, N., Bank Parade. Parkinson, A. W., 74, Manchester Road. Parkinson, William, Palatine Square. Parsons, Charles, 9, Grimshawe Street. Pickup, Peter, 40, Westgate. Pemberton, W., Piccadilly Road. Preston, Thomas, 92, Manchester Road. Preston Herald Office. Procter, Richard, Oak Mount. Proctor, George, South Parade. Pullon, Dr. G.S., Westgate. Ratcliffe, Abraham, 128, Manchester Road. Ratcliffe, David, 9, Carlton Road. Rawcliffe, Geo, B., Pickup Terrace, Raweliffe, James, Oak Mount, Raweliffe, James H., 65, Manchester Road. Rawlinson, Joshua, J.P., Oak Bank. Riley, Holden, St. James’s Street. Riley, William, Reedley, near Burnley. Roberts, Thomas, Bank Parade. Ruttle, Dr. Accrington, 102 Scowby, Francis, Craven Bank. Simpson, Robert, Todmorden Road. Slater, Christopher, Manchester Road. Smith, James, Yorke Street. Smith, Thos. C., Longridge. Southern, Walter, Palace House. Steel, Fred, Wm., Cuerden Terrace. Storey, Geo., J.P., Brunshawe. Strange, Alfred, Greenfield House. Sutcliffe, Dr. Alfred, Trinity House. Sutcliffe, George, J.P., Oak Hill. Sutcliffe, James, Bull Hotel. Sutcliffe, John, 8, Hargreaves Street. Sutcliffe, J.S,, Causeway End, Taylor, J. T., Corporation Offices. Thompson, James, 26, Cuerden Street Thompson, James, St. James’s Street. Thompson, Jas. W , Oak Bank. Thompson, William, Oak Bank. Thornber, Thomas, J.P., The Hollins. Thornton, John, The Poplars. Thorp, Thomas, 11, Manchester Road. Thursby, J.O.S., J.P., Bank Hall. Tovey, Rev. A. E., D.Se., Hollin Hill, Towneley. Tunstill, Henry, Oak Mount. Waddington, William, Thorn Hill. Waddington, W. Angelo, Thoru Hill. Waddington, J. Arthur, Thorn Hill, Waddington, J.C., Brooklands Road. Walmsley, George, Lark Hill. Walmsley, ‘Uhomas, Coke Street. Walton, Robert, Manchester Road. Ward, H. T., Palatine Square. Ward, J. Langfield, M.A., 111, Manchester Road. Watson, Richard, 12, Hargreaves Street. West, John, Albion Street. Whitaker, John, Nelson. Whitehurst, A., 15, Hargreaves Street. Wienall, Jno. Wm., Market Street. Winfield, Rev. B., B.A., St. James’s Vicarage. Witham, William, Todmorden Road, Wood, Martin, Westgate. NAMES OF READERS OF PAPERS AND 103 DIRECTORS OF SOIREES. Brumwell, J. C., M.D., J.P. Carey, Rev, S. Pearce, M.A. .. Doxey, Rev. J.S. Fletcher, Herbert ........... Grant, Arthur Be c....5...0% Holt, R. C. F-R.C.S. Mackenzie, James, M.D...... Maher, Rev. M., S.J., M.A. .. McKay, James, F.R.H.S. .... Nicholson, AW aac aces cae a's Rawnsley, Rev. H.D., M.A. Steinthal, Rev. 8. A. Strange, Alfred ............- Walker, Emery............. Waddington, W.A.......... Ward, J. Langfield, M.A. .... Winfield, Rev. B., B.A. .... Houlding, Henry ........-.- Kerr, J. L., C.M., M.B...... Leyland, Rev. T. ........... CoNVERSAZIONE AND RECEPTION BY THE Mayor, ALDERMAN (GREENWOOD, J.P., av THE Town Hat GaRDEN Party aND Reception spy Lapy O’Hacan, at Townebey Hatu.. Seconp Visit TO THE MancHEesTER Suir Canal (SaLFoRD SECTION).... Pacey. . ‘*With Poets, Artists, and Antiquaries at: Bolton Abney?) 20.4 s5c6.c 200s 37 ‘ Bocialisnitesavrreyoraerers ite! ovs'asa is ote arse a4 ‘Monastic Institutions of the Middle INOS) retiiyniey nate cates jaiatale: ior a soa: alo.e 25 ‘«The Smoke Nuisance.” ............ 18 “The Author of ‘John Halifax, Gentle- WHEY Rane Bone uO DACOUd SOUR CAGE 80 “He Mont Doren 2 a =ciesieks o-fetaiehaejereisi« 22 Artistic Soirée, ‘Art applied to In- CUS 2 Saimescis dace Seste cee 08 “National Health? .. occ ecce csees 63 ‘*The Authenticity of Shakespeare”... 34 ‘«The Measurement of Electricity.” .. 60 ““Some doubtful tendencies of Modern POG y so alors mn = Mh mT muy cell il 4A) \ = . mn m iN wa UN jhe UF rT F il i f Fn 7 Hil (| with | | tlh rin Se gOS a mM et I un 0 9 il TN ™ ITT 0 Vz Us ill } Ne eeu a ||} — | tn il l I =r UTA SFA INTERIOR OF THE PAROCHIAL CHURCH, BURNLEY, AS IT APPEARED 7O YEARS AGO. Lookina WeEsT. BURNLEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CLUB. TRANSACTIONS. VIO Ba MEL. 1&go. PRICE TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE. BURGHOPE & STRANGE, ST. JAMES’S STREET, BURNI.EY. MDCCCXCII. Burnley Literary and Scientific Club. > ESTABLISHED 1878. ————__+—— President: FRED. J. GRANT, J.P. Vice-Presidents : J. C. Brumweti, M.D., J.P. J. Lanerrenp Warp, M.A. ALFRED STRANGE. ALDERMAN GREENWOOD, J.P. W. A. Wanpineton. W. Lewis Grant. Hon. Treasurer: JAMES KAY, J.P. Committee: (To April, 1890.) (From April, 1890.) Jas. LANCASTER. Frep. H. Huu. Frep. H. Huu. Jas. Lancaster. G. B. Rawctirre. Wm. Txompson. Rey. A. E. Tovey, D.Sc. G. B. Rawcuirre. Tuos. Preston. Rey. T. Leynanp. D.A.O’Suttirvan, B.A., L.R.C.P. Tos. Preston. Hon. Secretary: WILLIAM THOMPSON, (to April.) Oak Bank, Burnley. THOMAS HARTLEY ROBERTS (from April), Nicholas Street, Burnley. Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule 5 RULES. That the Society be named the ‘‘ Burnury Literary AND Sorentiric Cuvus.” That the objects of the Club shall be the instruction and mental recreation of its members by means of original papers, discussions, and conversation of a Literary and Scientific character. Party Politics and Religious controversies to be excluded. That arrange- ments be made during the Summer for Excursions to places of Historic and Natural interest. That the Club consist of Ordinary and Honorary members. That the Committee shall have power to accept the services of others than members. That the Club meet on Tuesday evenings at 7-45, the meetings being weekly from September to April. Any meetings held in the Summer months to be preparatory to the Excursions. That the Secretary shall commence the proceedings of each meeting by reading the minutes of the last meeting. Candidates for membership to be proposed and seconded at one meeting, and balloted for at the next: a majority of three-fourths of the members present being required to secure the election. Can- didates for Honorary Membership shall be proposed only after a recommendation from the Committee. That the officers consist of a President, six Vice- Presidents, Treasurer, Secretary, and a Committee of six members, who shall manage the affairs of the Club; four to form a quorum. Such officers to be chosen by Ballot at the Annual Meeting, which shall be held on the first Tuesday in April. Nominations to be received only at the three meetings next pre- ceding the Annual Meeting. Rule 8. Rule 9. Rule 10. Rule 11. Rule 12. Rule 18. 6 That the reading of any paper shall not occupy more than one hour, the remaining portion of the time, up to ten o'clock, to be spent in conversation and discussion. No speaker to occupy more than five minutes, or to speak more than once, except by per- mission of the Chairman. That a Sessional Programme shall be prepared by the Secretary, and printed, in which the business of each evening shall be stated. All subjects proposed to be brought before the Club to be approved by the Committee of Management. Each member shall have the privilege of introducing a friend,* but no person so introduced, shall be allowed to take part in the proceedings, unless invited by the Chairman, to whom the said person’s name shall be communicated on his entrance into the room. The Committee shall have power to declare any meeting ‘‘ Special’”’ and to make such arrangements as to admission of friends at such meeting as they shall think proper. That an annual Subscription of 10s. be paid by ordinary members, and any person whose subscription is in arrear for three months shall cease to be a member of the Club, The Accounts of the Club shall be made up by the Treasurer to the end of December in each year; and a Balance Sheet shall, after having been audited, and passed by the Committee, be printed and sent to the members before the Annual Meeting. That the Rules be altered only at the Annual Meeting in April, or at a Special Meeting; in both cases a fortnight’s Notice shall be given to the members, stating the nature of the proposed alteration. The Secretary shall be empowered to call a Special Meeting on receiving a requisition signed by six members. *No gentleman residing within the Parliamentary Borough, not being a member, will be eligible for admission. INTRODUCTORY REPORT. In presenting the eighth volume of Transactions, the Committee are again able to congratulate the members on the continued vitality, usefulness, and success of the Club. It has now existed over 17 years, and is as capable as ever of carrying out the purposes for which it was established. The Committee heard with regret of the death of Father Perry, who had rendered such valuable help to the Club, and thought they would be giving expression to the wishes of the members by sending a subscription to the fund raised for commemorating his work. Suitable allusions to the distinguished services of the deceased were made at the meeting of the Club, on January 14th, by both the President and Dr. Klein. Mr. W. Thompson, after one year’s service as Secretary, resigned the office, and Mr. T,. H. Roberts consented to take his place. Mr. Thompson, during his short tenure of the post, had been the means of introducing some novel features, and of infusing new vigour into the social side of the Club’s work. On the 17th, 18th and 19th of June, in response to the invitation of Mr. J. Spencer Balfour, M.P., an excursion was made to Oxford and district. Sixty- two members and friends joined the excursion, and on the 18th were most generously entertained by Mr. Balfour at Burcot, and under his personal direction visited several places of interest in the neighbourhood. The following day was spent in visitng many of the most interesting Colleges in Oxford. 8 On the 9th of August, an excursion was made to Stoneyhurst. College, in which 26 members and friends took part. Dy the kindness of the Rector the party was shown over the College. The papers given before the Club have shown the usual variety of subjects, but special attention may be called to a feature of this year’s work—the lectures dealing with Educational matters. On three occasions the advertised arrangement has had to be departed from. Dr. Bowman was unable to appear on January 21st, and his place was taken by one of the honorary members, Mr. B. Sagar; instead of Mr. Southern’s paper on October 28th, a discussion on the M‘Kinley Tariff was started; and Mr. Axon, on December 2nd, found a substitute in Mr. Darley. The Session was closed on December 16th by the annual dinner. The average attendance at the Spring meetings was 33 members and 17 friends; at the Autumn meetings 34 members and 17 friends. The best attendances were secured for Mr. Appleby’s lecture on India, and for the Musical Soirée. During the year 21 new members have been admitted. Our numbers at present are 24 honorary members and 194 ordinary members During the year 20 papers have been read, of which 12 have been given by members and 8 by friends. The increasing attendance at the meetings shews that the Club has firmly established itself in the town. Your Committee, however, desire to impress on the members that the benefits of the Club consist not merely in hearing the papers, but also in preparing papers, and trust that the members will readily assist in making up the syllabus, and do all they can to make the Club a power for good in Burnley and the neighbourhood, al — ia ee eee ee ee Jan. ” SYLLABUS. JANUARY TO APRIL, 1890. 14 —Paper, ‘‘ Deep Sea Explorations and their Results”’ The Rey. Dr. Klein, D.Se., F.L.S. 21.—Paper, ‘“‘ Browning: His Later Life and Works” B. Sagar. 28.—Paper, ‘‘ Charles Kingsley’s ‘ Hereward’ ” John Holden. 4.—Paper, ‘‘ Useful Education ’’...Swire Smith, Member of the Royal Commission on Technical Education. 11.—Paper, ‘‘ The Use of Art in Elementary Education ”’ T. C. Horsfall. 18.—Paper, ‘‘ Tennyson, in Relation to Modern Thought ”’ Fred. H. dill. 25.—Paper, “ India and Ceylon,” (Illustrated) Arthur Appleby, J.P. . 4.—Paper, “‘ Eton College, Historical and Descriptive’’... J. O. 8. Thursby, J.P. 11.—Paper, ‘‘Theosophy”* ... ... .... T. H. Roberts. 18.—Paper, ‘‘ Burnley Seventy Years Ago—its by-ways” James Grant. 25.—Literary Soirée ... ... Director, W. Lewis Grant, April 1.—Annual Meeting. 10 SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER, 1890. Sept. 30.—Paper, ‘“‘ The Poetry of Science’’... F. H. Bowman, D.Sc., F.R.S., (Edin.) F.R.A.S., F.C.8., &e. Oct. 7.—Paper, ‘‘ Travels: How, Why and Where ” Thomas Wyles, The College, Buxton. 14.—Paper, ‘‘ Photographic Reminiscences of the Club’s Visit to Oxford,” (Illustrated by Lantern) J.C. Brumwell, M.D., J.P. 21.—Paper, “Cremation”... ... .... Victor Dunkerley. 28.—Discussion, “The M‘Kinley Tariff”’...J. Rawlinson. Nov. 4.—Paper, ‘‘ The Intellectual Pursuits best suited to the needs of an Industrial Urban Population ” W. Farrer Ecroyd, J.P. 11.—Paper, ‘‘ Fragmentary Sketches of Local History, and Manners, Customs and Reminiscences of Old Burnley”... ... ... Tattersall Wilkinson. 18.—Paper, ‘‘Our Duty with regard to Hereditary and other Diseases from the standpoint of Human Solidarity’? ... ....... ... John Whittaker. 25.—Paper, ‘‘ William Cowper” ... Fred. J. Grant, J.P. Dec. 2.—Paper, ‘‘ Ethics of Civilization” ...C. A. Darley, B.A. 9.—Musical Soirée oot, Past) oe Meesetes VL. Birkett 16.—Annual Dinner, ii DEEP SEA EXPLORATIONS AND THEIR RESULTS. By Rev. Dr. KLEIN, D.Se., F.L.8. January 14th, 1890. The Lecturer remarked that greatly as our knowledge of the earth has increased in the course of this century, yet until recently nothing, or next to nothing, was known of the depths of the sea, which forms nearly three-quarters of the surface of our globe. Fora long time a belief prevailed, chiefly owing to the great influence exercised by Edward Forbes, that all life ceased below a few hundred fathoms, as a cold temperature and a complete obscurity were added to the increased pressure of the liquid elements. This view, however, could not be maintained in the face of a number of facts which obviously proved that animal life existed at considerable depths. Various scientific expeditions had been undertaken in Norway, in England, in France, and in America, which all confirmed the views of those who distrusted Edward Forbes’ hasty assertions, and irresistible confirmation was obtained from the great cruise of H.M.S. Challenger, which will remain for ever memorable in the annals of science. This voyage was promoted by the same distinguished naturalists who had already added so much to our knowledge of the deep. The Challenger came back to Portsmouth on May 26th, 1876, after a voyage of 42 months, during which 492 soundings were taken, and 234 dredgings made. Subsequently France, which so far had done little in the matter of deep sea explorations, sent out two important expeditions—one that of the T’ravailleur, in 1880, in the Bay of Biscay, which the celebrated English conchologist, Mr. Gwyn Jeffreys, joined by special invitation of the French Government, and the other, that of the Talisman whose work extended as far as the Azores, and along the coast, of Africa. Hydrography has, of course, been considerably advanced by the results of all those expedi- tions ; the nature of the sea bed, the temperature of the sea at various levels, the direction of currents, and many sound- ings surpassing in accuracy any that had been previously made by mariners, have enabled physicists, hydrographers, geologists, and meteorologists to arrive at conclusions hitherto altogether unsuspected by science. But it is perhaps in the departments of botany and geology that the most striking results have been obtained. First, it has been shown that the greatest depths known to us, surpassing five miles in certain places, are still capable of affording a place of habitation to many animals belonging to most of the groups already known to inhabit moderate depths. Then, it has been found that, contrary to the expectations of 12 naturalists, many abysmal forms, far from being blind, as would appear natural in depths which solar rays can never reach, have, on the contrary, highly developed eyes. This seems explained by the fact that the lack of sunlight in abysmal regions is in a measure compensated for by the presence of phosphorescent light produced by many animals, and particularly by many deep sea fishes. The knowledge of the existence of deep sea fishes was quite a recent discovery. Nothing positive was known as to the exact depths inhabited by these animals until observations were col- lected during the Challengers voyage. The greatest depth hitherto reached by a dredge enclosing fishes is 2,900 fathoms. In con- clusion, the Lecturer dealt with the interesting question of the origin of the present abysmal fauna, and after discussing the various views proposed, he explained the arguments which point out the deep sea faunas and those of moderate depths as the sources of the abysmal faunas which modern science is now revealing to the mind of man. BROWNING: HIS LATER LIFE AND WORKS. By B. SAGAR. January 21st, 1890. Mr. B. Sagar said his intention was to say something about the last book of Browning, his lamentable death and his funeral, of which he was a very interested spectator. He regretted that owing to the short notice he had had, his remarks must be desultory, but there were circumstances which rendered allusions to Browning most suitable at the present time. 1889 was a most memorable year in the literary world. Inno year had they seen two such remarkable publica- tions issued from the press of either England or any other country, as they saw in December of last year—Browning’s “ Asolando,”’ and Tennyson’s ‘‘ Demeter.’’ The last volume of Browning was received with a storm of praise, and praise of a genuine kind. The little volume contained some of Browning’s earlier fancies aud ideas and method of treatment. Some of the poet’s best lyrical specimens were also contained in the volume. Of course many had declared that Browning had no lyrical power ; but that had been proved to be false, for Browning was a sweet singer. Mr. Sagar read one or two examples of Browning’s humorous poems, and then, referring to the title of the last volume, said it was taken from a place which had impressed the poet very favourably for a number of years, and the scene of his powerful poem, ‘‘ Pippa Passes.” Browning’s epilogues, scattered throughout the latter portion of his works, form a condensed epitome of all his best work. It would be a capital thing if someone would make a selection of the epilogues 18 alone from Browning’s works. The last lines published of Browning were an epilogue, which formed a fitting conclusion of such a life. The book was published on the morning of the 12th, and in the evening of the same day the poet died, an event unexpected by everyone. His sudden death was a calamity and was received as such. The poet wished to be buried by the side of his wife, but it was found that this could not be, as the burial place where she lay was closed. The Florentine authorities, however, endeavoured to meet the family in their difficulty, and were willing to give the authority needed to exhume the body of Mrs. Browning for reinterment in the new cemetery with the poet, but in the meantime the Dean of Westminster had offered a place in the Poet’s Corner, which was accepted, and there the poet now lies. A discussion followed :— Mr. Henry Houlding held that the greater the poet the simpler his language and style. He supposed that Homer was understood, and loved and recited in Greece very likely by the poor unlettered bards of the time with as much enthusiasm as Shakespeare is ranted on every stage to-day. There was no such difficulty in Homer to those who knew the language, or in Chaucer, or in Spenser, after one had mastered their archaisms. He was not going to say that Browning was not a great poet—- he believed he was. But many people took a pleasure in reading poetry who were very much engaged in the business of life. They had not time to read and read a poet before they could understand his drift and meaning; and if all poets were so difficult to understand, then business men would have to be content with mastering one instead of a number of poets. Browning spoilt his power by his style, his rugged chopped-up language was a detriment and a drawback to his power. To his mind there was something which never could be dissociated from poetry, and that was musical language. Poetry was thought, emotion, passion expressed in beautiful rhythmic language. He did not offer any opinion as to the merit of Browning. He had only read his poetry in selections, but even in selections it was possible to form some estimate of the power and inspiration of poetry, and he must say that he had been somewhat disappointed in this respect with the two volumes of selections from Browning’s works he had read. The Rev. §. Pearce Carey, M.A., said the difficulty lay in Browning’s particular style of humour and the rapidity of his thought. He believed that Browning's expression suited the thoughts he wished to express. He was not the poet of the people, but the poet of the poets and the poet of the high thinkers. What he admired most in Browning was his method of looking at the bright side and the hopefulness of his life. 14 HEREWARD THE WAKE. By JOHN HOLDEN. January 28th, 1890. Mr. Holden remarked that this story by Charles Kingsley had always exercised a strong fascination over him. It was first read during that stage of boyhood when everything in the shape of a story is eagerly devoured. It was charming then, and the charm of it has been increased by the many pleasant hours that he has since passed with Martin Lightfoot and his master roaming through rural England. Mr. Holden thought that the writing of ‘‘ Hereward”’ would be as congenial a task to Kingsley as the writing of ‘*‘ Westward Ho!” In each case he was dealing with a district he loved. One thing was certain, Kingsley had a strong affection for the Fens and the counties adjoining, and if any one wanted a fine piece of descriptive writing, full of valuable historical information, he should read the chapter entitled, ‘‘ Of the Fens,”’ with which Kingsley prefaces the story. Mr. Holden gave an abstract of the story, illustrating the principal incidents by quotations, and enabling those who were not acquainted with the tale to form an idea of the character of Kingsley’s hero, and the state of England during the early years of the conquest. USEFUL EDUCATION. By SWIRE SMITH, Member of the Royal Commission on Technical Education. February 4th, 1890. To every thoughtful man the most absorbing question which he has to face every day is that which centres in his immediate means of existence. In order to live he must work, and the object of education is to fit him for work and the duties of citizenship. To put the matter in another way, it has been said that half a man’s labour through life is required for the payment of his food. Hvery child starts out in life with certain physical, mental, and moral powers and qualities, and upon the cultivation of those qualities largely depend its future position and comfort in the world. Yet in our elementary schools we pass all our children through a cast-iron system, represented by a number of standards, and each child's ability is tested entirely by the standard that it can pass in reading, writing, and ciphering, and upon those “ results’’ the teacher 15 is paid. However diverse the faculties of the children may be, they are all crammed, or rather they must all pass through one groove, and the individuality of the child, instead of being stimulated and developed, is suppressed. Ag most of us spend our lives in dealing with material things it is surely worth our while to study things and_the practical contact with material forces. That should be included in the instruction which every child receives at an elementary school. Until that is done the school training of the children, with all its superficial show and cleverness, will not help them in the selection of the calling in which each child may be most appropriately employed. Seeing that the workingman’s child goes to work at a very early age, its training should as far as possible be of the character which will be immediately useful to it. In my plea for useful education, I am sure that I can claim the sympathy of all employers who have to face the world’s competition, but more especially of all leaders of labour. No man has more to gain than the labouring man by a sound education, and no man has more to lose through the lack of it. To raise the standard of our men is to raise the character and stability of the nation. When the Royal Commission on Technical Instruction was appointed in the year 1881, and during the three following years in which they were prosecuting their inquiries, there was great depression in several of the industries of the United Kingdom, There were many who believed that our industrial difficulties were mainly caused by foreign competition, and that the artisans in other countries were more favourably circumstanced than those of our own country. But when compared with his continental neighbour, the English workman stood on firm vantage ground in all conditions except one, and that was education. In public recognition of the vast importance of this question and its practical administration, we are seriously behind those nations whose industrial and material progress in recent years has been most remarkable. It is only by the unity of the masses that this great hindrance can be overcome and a thoroughly national system of education carried into effect throughout the whole of the United Kingdom. In the first place, in the leading countries abroad elementary education was practically free, and the poor man struggling with a small family had no need to be concerned about the raising of the weekly school-pence. Again, while children were taken from school at the average age of twelve, in those countries they continued at school till fourteen, getting more instruction in quantity and of a quality greatly superior. There was great neglect in the teaching of drawing and elementary science in our 16 elementary schools. Hardly a handful had been instructed in modelling or elementary science, and in the case of boys the pen was the only useful implement which they had been taught to use with their hands. Anything in the shape of systematic manual or technical instruction had been practically unknown in our elementary schools. And yet this happened, as I have said, in a country which offered more employment to skilled handi- craftsmen and industrial specialists than any in the world. In England alone the elementary school education was chaos. There were excellent grammar schools, high schools, colleges and evening classes, and the ancient universities with their splendid endowments intended for the nation, but mainly absorbed by the wealthy. But there was no systematic secondary education organised by State or municipalities for the public benefit, forming the bridge between the elementary schools and the universities open alike to the poor as to the rich. In all the leading countries across the channel. the secondary school took its natural place above the elementary school, and carried on the work, and by means of scholarships carrying forward the talented and those possessing means and leisure, on the one hand, to the Polytechnic School for the highest scientific training, and on the other, to the university for those desiring equal culture in literature or the classics. In England, with most boys, when they left the day school their education was ‘ finished,’’ and they never entered a school again. On the Continent, when they left the day school, their serious education only began. In the towns everywhere there were free night schools—continuation and improvement schools— maintained by the municipalities for teaching drawing, science, languages, literature, music, commerce, and all subjects that would help apprentices and young men and women in their callings. In manufacturing towns there were special technical schools, in which the principles underlying the local industries might be systematically studied and in many instances practically applied. I have no desire to minimise the useful work which was being done in evening classes in this country under the Science and Art Department. But of the zeal for education abroad we had no conception in this country, and of the rivalry of states and municipalities in their lavish equipment of schools attended by the operative classes. They had discovered by hard experience that to find the best they must offer facilities to all, and that it was only in training the intellects and hands of their people that they could contend against the organised industries and the mineral and material resources of England, and they had discovered that the schoolmaster was a more effective civiliser and a cheaper state official than the policeman. While we had given untiring attention to the development of our machinery 17 they had given as much attention to their men, and we might depend upon this, that in the long run of all machines it was the human machine that best paid for the labour and pains expended upon its improvement. The skilled workman produced something of greater value out of the same material than could be produced by the unskilled workman and with less waste of material, and such a man’s worth could not be tested by the wages he received. The artistic designer, whether in textiles or any decorative industry gave to the raw material and to the labour of many others its selling quality. In all operations which had a scientific basis, the man who united superior theoretical knowledge with business capacity increased the demand for the labour, skilled or unskilled, of all who might be employed in a given factory. Thus I have found British machinery turned to more profitable account in foreign factories and workships than in our own, and have been driven to the conclusion that this result has not been due to the long hours and low wages of foreign operatives, but to the employment of persons trained in technical schools, who have been more successful than our own in the blending of beauty with utility in their productions. In the competition for the world’s trade, which yearly grows keener, in my opinion we can make no greater mistake than to leave to foreigners some of the best paying branches of the fancy trades in which there is most scope for talent and skill, while we expend our energies almost exclusively upon the constant struggle to make cheap commodities still cheaper. In going through the Board of Trade returns, and tracing our imports of manufactures to their sources, I have found in most instances, not in all, that had we paid the same attention as our rivals to the sound instruction of all our people, to the teaching of drawing, science, and handwork in our day schools, to the application of art and science to our manufacturing industries, we should have been paying for the instruction of our own people with the money or money’s worth which we had sent abroad for the enrichment of our rivals. In textiles we imported in 1887 of the value of about twenty millions, deducting yarn and certain imports influenced by cheapness, of which about ten millions were in silk goods. There are technical schools in all the Continental silk centres; and Switzerland and Germany, where the best of these schools exist, are said to have ruined the trade of Spitalfields and Coventry, not because they have paid lower wages, but because of the greater beauty of their designs and their acquired excellence of the manipulation and dyeing of the fabrics. In woollens and worsteds, as also in fancy jute goods, the French and Germans have greatly surpassed the manufactures of this country in the attractiveness of their designs, 18 and at the present time a large trade is being done in fancy textiles in which the yarn is exported from England and the goods are returned to this country and here purchased entirely because of the superiority in the designing and dyeing. When I visited Roubaix, the Bradford of France, I saw the plans of a new technical school that was to be built in that town. A friend who recently returned from Roubaix, informed me he had been over the complete building, which was replete with every possible facility for art instruction, and for the teaching of designing in its application to textile fabrics. Equally complete is the chemical laboratory, with its splendid dyeing department. My friend informed me the building had cost £80,000 out of the rates, and that the manufacturers boast they will pay for it out of the profits of their trade with Kngland and the United States. A short time ago, in company with Sir Henry Roscoe, I visited the Exhibition at Paris. We inspected the exhibits of some of the technical schools of France, which we visited as fellow-commissioners seven years ago, and we were greatly impressed by the many evidences of growth and improvement in the educational machinery of France and other countries since that time. But we were most impressed by the great strides made in all those decorative branches of industry, the excellence of which may be more or less distinctly attributed to the schools. We were often told by Frenchmen that we hadn’t got the art faculty, that we could make steam engines and build ships, smelt pig-iron and spin cotton, but that we had no taste, no idea of form, colour, beauty or design. I repudiate this altogether. Give to the Englishman the same chances of artistic culture as are open to the poorest in other countries, and it would be found that the Englishman possesses that art faculty as strongly as his rival. But our people must not be denied the training. We cannot reap unless we sow. With all earnestness I would say with Mr. William Morris, I do not want art for a few, but for the nation, and in the same spirit and proportion I would say, I want science and every other element of use- fulness and culture by which the people can be raised in efficiency. I do not mean that every apprentice should be required to attend a technical school, nor do I expect that we should have in our towns technical schools proportionate to the number of workmen and employers engaged in our great industries. Iam also forced to admit that technical education so-called, has but little bearing upon some of the most important sections of British industry which at present are organised under minute sub-divisions of labour. But I do ask that all boys and girls shall receive such practical training in the day schools as will enable them to take advantage of theoretical or technical instruction if required by their calling, and that in 19 every town facilities shall be offered to them to attend appro- priate night schools, free if possible, but at least on such terms as will not exclude the poorest from all scholastic advantages of a helpful character. I desire to dispense with the superior skill of all the foreigners we employ in this and other countries, not by refusing to buy their productions, but by making better and more artistic productions, and by the superior training of our men and women at home. I am willing to admit that the improved scholastic training of our people and the building of efficient technical schools for the purpose, would cost a large sum of money ; but already, as I have shown, we are paying for the technical schools of every country, and the only way by which we can escape paying for these schools and for the useful instruction of the foreigner, is to pay liberally for the useful instruction of the Englishman. This useful education is after all no foreign invention or discovery. Most of those present could testify to the useful services rendered to the country by Mechanics’ Institutions and kindred societies, and by the schools of art and science classes under the Department at South Kensington. After much agitation a Technical Instruction Bill has at last been passed, which though very faulty in some of its provisions, yet gave power to ratepayers through certain local bodies to establish and maintain or contribute to the maintenance of technical schools and classes, and I hope Burnley will take advantage of the Act and put it in operation. Some of the conditions attaching to the Act are very unsatisfactory, and at its best the powers which it give are very small, but taken in conjunction with means already existing, they make possible in many a district what is impossible at present, viz., the giving of superior technical instruction at such fees as may be reached by the poorest artisans. In the competition for trade which is going on in every factory and workshop in the world, we can not afford to wait indefinitely for better methods or machinery while the advantages are going to our rivals. If it be possible to secure any improvement in the training of our people let us seize it at once, and be equally ready to secure the next that may follow. Our real danger is not from the invasion of foreign soldiers, but from the products of skilled foreign workmen, who are as anxious for peace as ourselves. Useful education, and with it industrial efficiency, will bring wealth to the nation, and expen- diture upon its promotion, both public and private, would re-act upon the comfort and higher civilisation of all classes, for by the raising up of the poorest and the feeklest, and by developing talent wherever it might be found, our manufacturing industries would be improved in their equipment, our commercial supremacy as a whole would be maintained, and our influence in all move- ments for the good of mankind would be extended. 20 THE USE OF ART IN ELEMENTARY EDUCATION. By T. C. HORSFALL, February 11th, 1890. What are the branches of knowledge which have the greatest educational value? If there be several which give equal oppor- tunity for the exercise by teacher and taught of wholesome admiration, it is obvious that if for one of these most minds have greater natural affinity than they have for the others, that one branch of knowledge has greater educational value than the rest. I think that it is easy to show that there are at least two great branches of knowledge which more than all others have been proved to be fitted to develop powers of love and admira- tion, that for them most minds have more affinity than for any other subjects, and that for the effective gaining of both by teachers and pupils, the help of art is needed. The other kind of knowledge to which I referred as well fitted to develop powers of admiration and love, and as a form for which almost every mind has much affinity, is knowledge of admirable human lives, of noble human deeds and endurance, of human goodness and greatness. Some measure of this know- ledge and of the admiration and love which spring from it are, as we all know, absolutely necessary as means to prevent life from being poor and noxious. It is of course the conviction that one ought to be, and can, if one likes, be good and brave, and that one should do the things which will help to make one so, and abstain from doing those which will tend to prevent one from being so,—it is this conviction, gained from knowledge and admiration of the feelings, thoughts, actions, of those who have been good and brave, which makes the difference between good and bad life; and though knowledge of nature is valuable for gaining many necessary qualities and powers, it is in its being necessary as a preparation of heart and mind for receiving knowledge and admiration of fine human thought and feeling and conduct that its highest value lies. The people of large towns to-day are in comparison with those of past times and other places at as great a disadvantage with regard to the acquisition of knowledge of this kind as with regard to the acquisition of knowledge of nature. In our towns the employ- ment of mothers in factories, and the habit of seeking recreation in public-houses and music-halls has, for a large proportion of the people, put an end to the family life which hands down traditions and tales from generation to generation. Even in the 21 country there seems to be strangely little knowledge of the noble lives of great men and women. It has certainly been a great compensation for many of the evils suffered by men in states of society in other respects less desirable than our own, that know- ledge of this kind was more widely diffused among the mass of the people. It is no light task to give knowledge of the two kinds I have spoken of to children. For great as is the affinity for them in most children as compared with other subjects, knowledge of them cannot be given without the use of the right means, and the right means are not yet to be found in schools. Literature, as it is the record of much of the finest feeling and thought of the best and most highly-gifted people, might at first sight seem to be the best means we can use. But, as many teachers know, this is not so. The whole body of the fine literature of the world has been the work of men and women possessed of know- ledge of nature and of fine human nature, and is written in a language created by that knowledge. The finest literature of all countries is so saturated with the influence of knowledge of nature that a very large part of its meaning—nearly all that part of its meaning, apprehension of which is perception of its beauty—exists only for those who share the knowledge. If literature is to be the means of evoking admiration and love in those who read it, they must know the fields and woods, the flowers and trees of which so many of the words of prose and poetry are but the symbols. Tilla considerable degree of education has been reached, words by themselves cannot convey ideas or touch powers of thought or feeling, No amount of the most skilful description can give an idea of an oak tree to a person who has never seen a plant of any kind, or an idea of a country view to one who has lived only in towns ; though verbal description may enable one who knows beech trees to realise some of the differences between beeches and oaks, and may also enable a man who knows hilly country to realise the appearance of a wide plain. Similarly with regard to human life, yerbal description cannot by itself enable a child who knows only the present as it is in the crowded parts of a large town or in a country village to form a clear idea of life in past times or in a foreign country, though it may enable one who has once formed a clear idea of one scene in the past or abroad to realise other past or foreign scenes with considerable clearness. If such lessons are to be of much worth, we must use art in education but we must do something else also. If art itself is to be of use, we must as far as possible bring children into con- tact with real things and real people of the kinds we wish them to admire. In respect of the gain of knowledge of fine human qualities and the gain of the power of admiring such qualities, 22 nothing can help children so much as having teachers who aré of fine nature, finely trained. Direct personal contact with such teachers will do more to enable them to apprehend what art and language can tell them of human goodness and greatness in other times and other lands than any other means can do. More numerous means are at our command in using realities to give knowledge of nature, but in order that they may be used, both School-Boards and the managers of other elementary schools need much more power in dealing with school time than, I believe, they now possess. Ignorance of nature on the part of the inhabitants of towns is indeed not due to complete lack of chances of acquiring knowledge, but to the facts that, as they do not see nature when they are young and do not live among people who love it, they have no chance of gaining the wish to make use of their chances of seeing it. What a change would soon be made in our towns if only the majority of the inhabitants cared for what natural beauty is within their reach, and wished that they and their children should have as much as possible of it at their doors and in their houses. But only a comparatively small range of realities can be shown to town children and even that can be shown but seldom, and therefore realities will not suffice for our purpose. Any adequate definition of art, any sketch of its history, would by itself prove that its aid is needed for overcoming the educational difficulties which we have to deal with. The chief of those difficulties is that of giving ideas, thought, and feeling which words cannot convey, and especially of exciting admiration and love. Well, it is just that difficulty, which has existed as long as language, which has brought the graphic arts into existence. These arts are the expression of some of the most important impressions which cannot be conveyed in language, and they are pre-emi- nently the expression by artists of admiration and love, and therefore the exciters and directors of similar feelings in others. And while these arts would have been most valuable means of education in all previous ages, they have now reached a phase which makes them simply indispensable means for the education of the children of our large towns. Artists for many centuries have especially delighted in expressing the impres- sions produced on their nature by great human actions, and by the personality of great men and women; and artists in our own day and country, just when and where such help is most needed, have learnt to delight chiefly in expressing impressions received by them from the beauty of nature. As then it is the favourite function of the graphic arts to be channels of just those influences which are most important in education, and which town surroundings make it very difficult to bring to bear on children, it is evident that these arts ought 28 to be used in every town and village school. No one doubts that their representations of things have far more power than language-representations to make things known to those who have never seen the things. Here is one small example of their power. A member of the Birmingham School Board told me that two little girls were seen standing before a foxglove in an open space in the town, and one was heard to say to her companion, ‘¢That’s the flower we’ve got a picture of in our school.” No one, probably, ever heard a child say, ‘‘ That’s the flower we had a description of in school." Pictures have the same kind of power in relation to people. Children can be more easily made to realise the fact that a man named in history really did live, and was a creature of their own human race if they see a good portrait of him, and they are much more deeply impressed by the goodness and heroism of the persons of whom they see pictures than by the noble qualities of the ghostly personages they only hear of. I can most conyeniently explain what I believe to be the best system of using art in education, so far at least as elementary schools are concerned, by describing the system which the Committee of the Manchester Art Museum are now developing, and which they hope to be soon able to extend to every elementary school in Manchester willing to receive their help. They will offer to every elementary school which promises to comply with certain conditions, loan collections, which will be changed every six months or perhaps only once a year. The collections will include some coloured pictures of beautiful scenery, of kinds which are to be seen close to Manchester, some of beautiful or otherwise remarkable scenery in other parts of our own country, and in other lands—some of them showing results of the operation of great natural forces—pictures of mountains, polar lands and seas, cafions, waterfalls, volcanoes, deserts ; some pictures of common trees with representation of their branches and of their leaves, some pictures of common wild and garden flowers, birds and other animals, butterflies and moths; some pictures of great historical events, portraits of historical personages, pictures of interesting buildings in different parts of the world, pictures of various kinds of human life; and, for the purpose of training taste, examples of pottery of good form and colour, and of textile fabrics of fine colour and design. Many of the pictures will be provided with printed descriptions of their subjects and with statements that they are etchings, engravings, chromo-lithographs, or whatever they may be, and that the kind of apparatus used in making them, and descriptions of the ways in which they are made, can be seen at the Art Museum, 24 As learning to draw is the best way of learning to use one’s eyes, and drawing lessons give teachers good opportunities of developing good taste and powers of observation, and as pictures will be of comparatively little use unless attention is often directed to them, another part of the scheme of the Committee is to offer to the managers of schools the services of a Super- visor of Drawing, one of whose functions would be to give kinds of information about the collections which all teachers cannot be expected to possess. This part of the scheme, on account of its costliness, can only be used in a few groups of schools. Of course the placing of collections of works of art in schools will produce comparatively small results unless the teachers can call attention to more in a picture than the tale it tells, unless they can call attention to its artistic merit, to its beauty of line or colour; and examples of pottery and textile fabrics especially will be almost valueless in schools unless teachers gain some feeling for their beauty of form and colour. It is therefore most desirable that all training colleges shall have collections and teachers to cultivate the sense of beauty of form and colour in students. But in any case the use of pictures in their schools, and frequent visits to Art Galleries would develop the sense in many teachers, and a few years hence a generation of pupil-teachers, trained in schools supplied with works of art, would he able to greatly increase the usefulness of the school-collections. For all modern communities the decision as to whether art shall be used in education is of much importance. It is in facta decision as to whether the mass ot the people shall be barbarian or civilised. The decision is of exceptionally great importance for the large towns of Great Britain. For them the decision means, shall the mass of the people be helped to escape from a very low form of barbarism or not ? It is the knowledge, the education, given by heroic ballads, touching songs and tales, fine music, lovely form and colour, beautiful scenery, acquaintance with good people, which creates and maintains the sympathies, the aspirations, the hopes and beliefs, which make men truthful, honest, kind, good servants, good masters, good neighbours, good citizens. 25 TENNYSON IN RELATION TO MODERN THOUGHT. By FRED. H. HILL, February 18th, 1890. John Stuart Mill says, ‘‘ Poetry is the expression of thought, coloured by feeling, expressed in metrical language, and over- heard.”’ The true poet does not speak at you, or to you, but within you. He rises above the world; cannot be kept to it: possesses a healthy mind, and has no disgust of life. He is a man like other men, only more so; with feelings like other men, only more susceptible; with vision, but with a clearer and wider range; with love, but boundless in its scope. Indeed, true poetry is the perfect registration of truth. It is the mysterious deep upon whose surface the face of nature is reflected, and in whose unfathomed bed pearls of thought and fancy lie. Art portrays beauty, but poetry has its vistas of glory, its vastness of view, its resources of suggestion. Art has its abiding reality, poetry its attendant dreams: the one is for the contemplation of the mind, the other for its expansion. In fine, the higher poetry is not like a photograph, still and cold, but like a painting, living and warm, not only in colour but in feeling, and at the same time is truthful in all its details. Through his sensitive nature the poet is exquisitely affected by the spirit and tendency of his time, and to render his work of future moment, he seeks to reflect that spirit, or seeks to confine himself to the expression of the spiritual experience of all ages and all mankind, the greatest example of the latter being Shakespeare, while in the case of the former the poet not only influences the period in which he lives, but is influenced by it, and of necessity becomes its representative. Our nineteenth century has been so eminently scientific, so devoted to investigation of universal truth, has found such wonders in the laws of force and matter, that the poetic bearing of their phenomena has seemed of transient worth ; and, con- sequently, the modern scientific student has often been so narrowed by his investigations that he has been more unjust to the poet than the poet was of old to the philosopher. So practical science has won over the multitude, and neither the songster nor the metaphysician, but the physical in- vestigator wears the bay leaves of to-day. No less a power 26 in modern life than Professor Huxley has spoken of poetic expression as ‘sensual caterwauling,” overlooking the fact that the power of expression is the wedded body of inspiration, employing the poet’s keenest sensibilities, and lending such value to thought as the cutting of a diamond to the rugged stone. The very tendency of which Professor Huxley complains naturally follows the iconoclastic overthrow of the cherished ideals of poetry. Modern days are days of doubt: ‘the old order changing, yielding place to new.” ‘'hrough this period of doubt and turbulence Alfred Tennyson has lived, and through much of it he has exerted an inflnence upon modern thought. The obligations of science to poetry should not be forgot- ten, for the inspirations of the poets have foreshadowed, if not heralded, the scientific revelations of our day, Professor Tyndall was led to the greatest discoveries of his life by the chance read- ing of a few lines from Emerson. Goethe presaged the idea of the vibratory transmission of light and the correlation of forces ; and Erasmus Darwin and Beddoes did the same for the ideas of Evolution and Development. Thus the poet, seizing upon the germs of discovery, pursues them to their ultimate bounds, The period of Milton was one of faith, of realistic faith, while the eighteenth century, with its lack of creative poetic power, marked its ebbing tide, and gave us none greater than Pope and Goldsmith as its legacy for the nineteenth century, with little faith to stimulate, till Wordsworth’s faith in ‘“‘ Nature”’ brought back the “ flowing tide.” The mantle of Wordsworth, the greatest poet of nature, fell most fitly upon Tennyson, the poet of Man, and he, more than any other poet, is the repre- sentative of nineteenth century thought. Unlike one or other of his compeers, who represent the melody, or wisdom, or passion, or other partial phase of the time, Tenny- son represents the very time itself, for in his verse he is as truly ‘the glass of fashion and the mould of form”’ of the Victorian generation as Spenser was of the Elizabethan court, or Milton was of the Protectorate, or as Pope was of Queen Anne’s period. His first songs were like those of other men, only finer in quality. They were dreamy experiments in metre and word painting : groping for a truer form of expression; but at the same time, efforts of a mind alive to the vision of power and beauty. To men of severe and established tastes, such as Bulwer Lytton, they were repellent, but to the youthful they had the charm of sighing winds, and babbling waters: indeed an inexpressible wonder of luxury and weirdness. In the volume which came two years later, in 1832, the style is more clearly developed and pruned of mannerisms ; the poet has full command of delicious metres and stanzas; his every word is as needful as the flower or scroll of ornamental architecture, and 27 every detail is so fitting that the special device is forgotten in the general excellence. Thenceforward slovenly work from any quarter was subject to instant rebuke by contrast, and the force of metrical elegance made its way with wonderful rapidity and carried everything before it. Tennyson had come to the knowledge at this period, not only that Art, when followed for its own sake, is alluring, but that, when used as a means of expressing what cannot otherwise be quite revealed, it is seraphic. The duty of life and manly independence was never more fitly portrayed than when one is taught by Pallas, the goddess of wisdom, that, “ Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead life to sovereign power, Yet not for power (power of herself Would come uncall’d for) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.” This has been made the basis of some of the most profound modern thought. Carlyle never taught more effectively than that: nay, we should require more than seven volumes to make us believe that ‘‘might was right’’ but only seven lines are sufficient to belief that, ‘“‘ because right is right to follow right were wisdom.”’ The next work of the poet was his Idylls in 1842 composed in blank verse. This effort brought him a distinctive reputation, for it was enriched by a style entirely his own. But we can only pass in quick review these poems of charming interest, in order to reach those directly bearing upon modern thought. In this volume we have ‘‘ Dora,” the paragon of its kind; “‘ Godiva ’*‘ and ‘‘ The Gardener’s Daughter,’’ descriptively felicit- ous in another way; and the wonderfully compact and expressive ‘‘Ulysses.’’ Here we have ‘‘ The Talking Oak,’ that marvel of grace and fancy; and here too is found, composed in the minor key, the enduring and suggestive songs, ‘‘ Break, break, break,’’ and ‘ Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea,”’ in the former of which we have those matchless lines, ‘‘But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still.” Tennyson’s humour is at its best, in that half pensive, half rollicking, wholly poetic composition dear to wits and dreamers, ‘Will Waterproof’s Lyrical Monologue.” In this volume of 1842 we also have the pveren lover reciting “‘Tiocksley Hall,’ which, despite its sentimental egotism, furnishes genuine illustrations of the age, and of the poet’s own breadth of sympathy and aptitude to represent every phase of 28 that age. Not anything escapes him. He takes a scientific view of nature, and in this he differs from Shelley, Keats, and Wordsworth alike, for with him nature is the embodiment and manifestation of law, and the fulfilment of those vast purposes which are part of our universal order. At the same time his accuracy of observation in detail is most remarkable, telling us precisely what he has seen, showing that he has written with his eyes on the things themselves rather than on the paper. Tennyson is here in touch with every movement of his fellows ; sees the larger political influence of Free Trade in commerce ; sees its attendant possibilites of universal peace, in the federation of the world, when war shall be no more. Again, in the scientific realm we find him abreast of ‘‘ Modern Thought,” and like Goethe possessing that rare faculty of insight which foretold of later discoveries pertaining to Evolution, years before its enunciation, as shown in the lines: ‘All nature widens upward. Evermore The simpler essence lower lies; More complex is more perfect, owning more Discourse, more widely wise.” In 1847, three years before he became Poet Laureate, Tenny- son made a diversion in giving to the world, not a lyric or an epic, but an idyll called ‘‘ The Princess,” constructed of ancient and modern material: a show of Middle Age pomp and moyve- ment observed through an atmosphere of latter day thought and emotion. Its defined purpose and object is the illustration of woman’s struggles, aspirations, and proper sphere in modern life in her relation with man. It is a distinct mark of highly advanced civilization, and indicates the representative character of our poet. Indeed the conclusion of the writer is one in which cultured people are so thoroughly in accord that they point to the close of the Princess as expressing their view of the « Woman’s Question.” ‘‘ Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words.” It is from teaching contained in such noble lines as those to which I refer that Tennyson has contributed so much in placing woman on the pedestal she now occupies in modern life. Con- trast the estimate of our poet with that of Byron. His deep rever- ence for woman springs from that divine quality which Guinevere discovered in King Arthur, ‘‘ the pure severity of perfect light.” In “The Higher Pantheism,’ we have a poem of very exalted order, especially in view of its fine discriminating power, which brings the author into relationship with modern thought in its pantheistic phase, to indicate how far he has out- distanced and overleapt the conceptions of its votaries in making plain the line of demarcation between the spiritual essence of 29 the deity, and the material manifestation of creation, which is ‘only sign and symbol of our division from Him.” In a word, he shows that it is the spiritualisation of mind rather than of matter which makes the ‘‘ Higher Pantheism,” the only one possible, because it is the only one reasonably and justifiably in accord with known scientific fact. Now Tennyson has not only been impressed by the age and environment in which he has lived, thereby earning the title of a true representative, but he has left his own impression upon the age, by giving back in a higher mould that which he has received. The style of his early verse produced a profound impression, and as he deepened in tone and heightened in quality, his reputation increased. He has had many imitators of his style, but his thought was beyond them all. Indeed there have been many Tennysons, but only one Alfred Tennyson, and as he could truly say, ‘I do but sing because I must, And pipe but as the linnets sing ; ” while his imitators ‘‘ Have something of the sort of ring, Which goes with a soft flowing swing, But lack the thought which noblest poems bring.” There is another field in which our poet has scored the greatest triumphs of his art. He has given expression to the religious disquietude of his time, caused by the present-day discoveries of science, and the higher criticism. Few have passed through the ordeal as scathless as he. Nay it is he who has been our guide through gloom of doubt; it is he who trusts that ‘somehow good will be the final goal of ill; and it is he who has taught us to ‘trust the larger hope,’’ even if it be but “* faintly.” In this capacity Tennyson has become what Wordsworth failed to become,—the poet of man; in this capacity he outstripped all his compeers; outstripped even Shelley, the most ethereally spiritual, or imaginative of all our poets, and he did so by getting nearer the reality, beyond the spiritually imaginative. And yet Tennyson has not escaped the critics. Hven Wordsworth charged him with affectation; Lord Lytton attacked him in “The New Timon;” Coleridge wrote strictures on his bad metres, which are the most pronounced cases of blind and blundering criticism the century has produced. Since Gitiord ran his indiscriminate tusks into the sweet white flesh of Young ‘‘ Endymion” the age has had nothing more coarsely uncritical. He has been called sceptical : nothing could be more erroneous. That he writes at times as one in doubt, ’tis true; but we must bear in mind that doubt. disintegrates, disperses, dispels; that 30 faith attracts and knits together; that faith is the tonic of the poetic soul; that doubt can command no prolonged sympathy, and consequently can find no permanent footing in the higher places of poetry; that faith, on the contrary, seems to clothe itself with poetry without effort; attracts all poetry to it as a seemingly natural consequence ; intertwines and interweaves its life with it, until, to use the strong Shakespearian phrase, “the two have grown together, and their parting would he a tortured body.”’ It is the possession of this double-sighted vision that has enabled our poet to become the interpreter of the transitional character of the philosophy, the religion, and to some extent, the politics of his time. In this aspect he is often misunder- stood. The critics look at the intense shadow, but overlook the intenser light. This double vision of the poet, the vision of doubt and faith, is wonderfully manifest in ‘“‘ The Two Voices.” Again it is seen in the ‘ Palace of Art,” where the field is con- tested by self-sufficient culture, against self-forgetful humility. But it is in ‘In Memoriam” that we meet with this double endowment in its richer and profounder aspect, in which the two voices within the poet discuss under the shadow of death some of the darkest riddles of the world. In this poem we have a prophetic solution of many of the problems of the poet’s day. Apart from the central idea of his lost friend Arthur Hallam, the work is essentially English, for it appeals to the national tastes, it is steeped in our thought and spirit, and its sights and sounds are those of our rural life. It is one of those rare songs that must be recited to the heart alone. Indeed, to understand ‘‘In Memoriam” at all, we must put ourselves in line with the author; must realise the subject of his sorrow : must weep with him as he weeps: have joy in the joy of his hope, notwithstanding intervening cloud; and we must struggle through the shades of his doubts, till we have left the intense shadow for the intenser light of his faith. The friend referred to in ‘‘In Memoriam” was Arthur Hallam, the son of the historian, a man of noble character, of great promise and powers. The loss of this friend produced deep sorrow and doubt: sorrow slow to heal, and doubt difficult to clear: hence the character of the work, which occupied seven- teen years of his life and thought. The continuity of their friendship and their participation in the enigmas of the world, was so real that death could not separate them, for as he looks over ‘the noble letters of the dead,’’ he declares, “ So word by word, and line by line, The dead man touch’d me from the past, And all at once it seem’d at last The living soul was flash’d in mine.” 31 In the subjective aspect of this work we find many of our own difficulties reflected, difficulties of humanity at large, the pro- blems that have exercised the largest minds in modern times, such as this one: “ Are God and nature then at strife That nature lends such evil dreams.” He answers this questioning by a larger yet instinctive hope. His soul has become sick with sorrow, but in the moment of uttermost darkness, full of distemper and despair, he breaks forth into one of the noblest confessions of faith— ‘‘ That nothing walks with aimless feet, When God hath made the pile complete.” With instinctive faith the poet draws the veil aside and scans the beatific vision, and there he sees the final unity of the creature with the Creator, when Arthur Hallam becomes ‘‘That friend of mine who walks with God,” and forty years after, with undiminished faith, he exclaimed, ‘“‘ Peace, let it be! for Iloved him, and love him for ever; The dead are not dead but alive.” That such a poem should have presented difficulties is not to be wondered at; indeed it was to be expected; for, without absolute freedom, poetry of the highest kind would be impossible : he does not speak to us as a doctrinaire of any kind, but as «man; and as the production of a man, and not a specialist, the poem has its abiding value. The death that gave back again to the mind of his friend its elemental freedom, seems to have lifted his own above its earthly moorings and tendencies. He battles on single-handed, beating his music out to an accom- paniment in which no sophistries of any kind can find a place. In thus giving voice to his own doubts and sorrows, he has lifted a cloud of nameless trouble from many a weary heart and darkened life; and the work stands out to the eyes of the imagination a spiritual Camelot, “Built To music, therefore never built at all, And therefore built for ever.” A complete view of Tennyson as the poet of Modern Thought cannot be had without a consideration of at least a part of his more recent work, and especially of the volume published when the poet was over seventy years of age. In the “ Ancient Sage” the two voices again play their part; and again the shadow of doubt gives place to the light of faith; but it is more than that, for it indicates the settled calm 32 of the Victor: reveals the result of experience: determines to recognise the facts of the universe as they are; and in this sense of acalm Victor it differs from ‘‘ In Memoriam.’’ Here we have a running dialogue between a poet who catches the transient gleam of beauty as it passes, and who cannot believe in any deep or permanent creative life, and a sage who tries to persuade him that a deeper insight shows mortal things to be mere symbols of eternal and immortal realities. The poet pleads the disparity of human knowledge. This the sage recog- nises fully: consequently doubt must be; for nothing worthy can be proven or disproven; and the concluding advice of the sage is— ‘Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith.” Such words are almost the last spoken on this great subject, by the poet of Modern Thought, who has lived many days. He stands nearest to us, for he has written with the fullest knowledge of the discoveries of recent science, and of the pro- blems which occupy the minds of the living generation. His words contain the highest teaching: he is far more condensed than Browning or Swinburne, and his forms of expression are without equal for purity. His subjects are varied as his methods, while his thought penetrates deeper than his refined diction. The work of Tennyson has been to inscribe in immortal verse the spirit of his own age, and that in a far larger sense than any of his contemporaries, therefore he may justly be accepted as its truest representative poet, and, consequently, its noblest leader. He has loved truth and followed right, and he has kept himself unspotted from the world. As Browning said in his last Epilogue, written just before he passed onward, so we may say of Tennyson, he was “‘ One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake.”’ 33 INDIA AND CEYLON (Illustrated). By ARTHUR APPLEBY, J.P. February 25th, 1890. Mr. Appleby disclaimed any intention of touching upon those difficult problems of government and political power which were at present agitating the minds of a small, but very active section, of people in India. He intended rather to speak of the country, the landscape, the trade, the impressions which the social life of the natives made upon him, as an independent, open-minded English traveller, seeking experience, instruction, and amusement in the far Hast. It was necessary for him to add that the main source of information open to travellers like himself was the study of the best English authors, and he desired to acknowledge his indebtedness to and the free use he had made, especially of the works of Sir John Strachey and Sir William Hunter, both of whom he considered were the best authorities on any Indian subject. Our Indian Empire, inclusive of Burmah, occupied some million and and a half square miles, and was inhabited by 250 million people—more than twice the population of the Roman Empire at the height of its power. One-fifth of the population still lived under the rule of the native princes, and were known as feudatory States. India was not a country in the sense in which one could speak of France or Germany as one. It was rather a continent like Europe. The various peoples of India have never fused as did the early and bitterly opposing settlers in these islands. There were no countries in civilised Europe whose people differed so widely as _did the timid Bengalee from the warlike Sikh. The language of Bengal would be as unintelligible in Lahore as in London, whilst the climatic differences were equally variable. It was essential that these facts should be understood and borne in mind, if they would understand how it was possible for our Indian Empire to be governed by such a small military force, so far from the centre of its Government. The people of British India might be divided into four great classes: The non-Aryans, the Aryans, the Hindus, and the Mohammedans. ‘The non-Aryans were the aborigines, and numbered about 18,000,000; the fair-skinned Aryans or Sanskrit-speaking people about 16,000,000; the great mixed population, known as Hindus, about 120,000,000, and the Mohammedans about 45,000,000. The non-Aryans inhabited the country in pre-historic times, and were driven from the plains 3,000 years ago by the Aryan invaders. They were now found in the recesses of the mountains, and dwelling in caves. They were flat-faced and very dark, and showed distinct evidence 3B4 of Mongolian descent. The Andaman Islanders in the Bay of Bengal belonged to that class, and there could be no doubt, were driven from the mainland at a very early date, and they were perhaps ove of the most primitive forms of mankind extant, whilst the hills in southern Madras were a refuge for similar wild tribes. The second great class was descended from the Aryan race. History told us that they inhabited the great plains of central Asia, whence, at various times, and in different directions, they sent out offshoots, which materially affected the world. Westward, they moved to found the Persian Empire, to create classic Greece, to build the walls of Rome itself, and they reached so far as even our own islands, whilst south they struck, and eastward, forcing their way across the Himalayas into the rich plains of India. It was from diverse races—the non-Aryan and the Aryan intermarrying—that the present Hindu population was derived. But Hinduism was not so much a race distinction as the result of a social organisation and a religious movement. That social organisation rested upon caste, while the religious movement was a combination of Brahmin and Buddhist faith mixed with some of the ruder rites of the Scythic people. He shrank from approaching such a complex subject as caste, the one which, perhaps, more than any other, marked out the Oriental life from our own. Originally there were only four castes, the priest, the warrior, the husbandman, and the serf, but they had developed into innumerable class distinctions, observed with a painful and scrupulous rigidity. Caste, however, had its advantages. It regulated the industry, it relieved the distress, it defined even the religion of its members. It regulated the industry much in the same way as our own trades unions do here, by moderating competition and by enforcing certain trade holidays, whilst by taking levies from its members it was enabled to give relief in case of need, and under normal conditions, allowed none of its members to starve; and so it took the place and rendered unnecessary in India, the existence of our own Poor Law system. Besides that, it exercised a correcting influence on erring members, enforced by punishment varying in severity. Anglo-Indian law, however, did not enforce caste decrees, but it recognised and allowed them. Of the religion of the Hindus, with its complicated idolatry, he could make no more than a passing mention. With the Hindu all life was sacred, as the gift of God, and as a result of generations of mental and religious training, death was realised as a transition, and was not so much dreaded by the individual, as we found amongst a more active and excitable people like ourselves, and though idolatrous and approaching their gods at many and strange shrines, the end of all Hindu worship was to seek the liberation of the soul from 35 the frail body, and to secure its ultimate absorption by the deity, which they called the state of Nirvana. The fourth and last race were the Mohammedans. Mohammed, who was born 4.pD. 622, founded essentially a conquering religion. His successors, within a hundred years of his death, had invaded India, and sought to convert at the edge of the sword the mild Hindu to the faith of Islam, but it was not until 400 years had elapsed that they were able to make any impression, and it was A.D. 1,000 before they succeeded in establishing any permanent hold in the north-west provinces and the Punjaub. The Maghuls, in 1526, « great Moguls,” who, under the famous Akhbar and others, developed such power, such wealth and magnificence, leaving behind them palaces and_ mosques, at once the admiration and wonder of the world. Their last representative Mohammed, Bahadur Shah, King of Delhi, emerged for a moment as a rebel in 1857, and died a State prisoner in 1862. At no time did the rule of the great Moguls embrace, like our own, the whole of India. Passing mention was made of the reign of the great Akhbar, and the splendour of Aurungzebe, of his great revenue, which in 1695 was estimated at 80,000,000, while our own to-day was little more than half that amount, With his death began the downfall of the Mogul power. Disputed successions among his sons gave rise to internal dissension among the people, and very soon the Sikhs, the Mahrattas, and Rajputs closed in upon the empire, and it was the cruelties exercised upon them, especially the Sikhs, by his successors, during the next century, which created their bitter hatred of Delhi, and which served the British cause so well in the mutiny in 1857. We must remember that they were in many respects nearly 300 years behind ourselves. The spread of education, the diffusion of wealth, the general means of enjoyment amongst the people was probably quite as great in our own country in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, as was the case in India to-day. Until the British became the ruling power in India there seemed to have been no impetus given to the education of the people. On the whole, the trade and agriculture of India were of a decidedly expanding character, though liable to fluctuations from special causes. The exports of 1886-7 were of a decidedly satisfac- tory character. On December 31st, 1887, there were 14,068 miles of railway open, leaving a nett working profit of 5-32 per cent. There was an excise duty on liquor and drugs which yielded an income in the same year of £4,375,000. The people of India, generally, were extremely abstemious, the consumption of spirits being confined to the lower classes, and that mainly on their national religious holidays. Drunkenness in the English sense 36 hardly existed in India—that was to some extent due to the climate. Roads generally were good, such as they saw having often been constructed in the first place for military purposes. Bombay headed the lists of ports, its foreign trade being £68,000,000, against Calcutta £59,000,000. The total exports of the whole country in 1887 were £92,000,000, against £71,000,000 of imports. English cotton goods constituted in value one half of the whole import trade of India, increasing in yards from 1,300 millions to 2,100 millions between 1878 1887. Large as that increase was, it would have been larger still but for the rapid growth throughout the country of the man- ufacture of all but the finer qualities. In the ten years from 1876, the number of mills nearly doubled, and at the close of last year, there were 97 mills at work, contaiming 2,375,739 spindles, 18,840 looms. A new and largely increasing export trade in yarns had been developed with China and other countries, which rose from £1,000,000 in 1877, to £4,200,000 in 1887. It was impossible for them to visit some of the mills, as they did in Bombay and Baroda, &c., without feelings of considerable interest and curiosity. ‘They found that the removal of the protective tariffs had in no way injured Indian manufacture, but a great native industry—a most important matter, from every point of view in a country like India—had been steadily develop- ing. The advantage to the manufacturing trade of Kngland by the removal of those duties had been great, but to India itself it had been greater.” On the much vexed silver currency question he would only say that in the general trade of the country, ‘‘ the treacherous, the debilitated, and ever-depreciating rupee’’ formed a disturb- ing element unknown in this country, except of course to traders with silver-using countries, which upset all calculations, harassed the foreign trade, crippling alike the finances of the Goverment and the incomes of its English officers. The question naturally suggested itself in conclusion, were the natives favourably disposed towards us and our Government ? ‘‘Ts India free? And does she wear her plumed and jewelled turban with a smile of peace, or do we grind her still?” Were they contented with their lot? Was there any awaken- ing in their social, intellectual, and political life? To each of those questions his answer was emphatically “ Yes.’’ They never heard from any English speaking native, or any naturalised resident in India, a whisper of disloyalty to their Queen and Constitution, but they frequently had assurances of improved condition and contentment, and of the belief that they were associated with a power that was strong enough to dare to be tolerant. It was true that, judged by their own standard, the condition of the average native was not good. His education 87 (as he had shown) was poor, his religion was not bright, his home was dirty, dark, and small, he had few sports or entertainments of any kind, and generally speaking, his life seemed aimless. They must estimate his wealth by the fewness of his natural wants, for though in possessions he seemed poor indeed, he had at least all he required, and did not care to seek for more. Climatic influences and physical laws had no doubt much to do with this. The educated native was vastly on the increase, especially in Bengal, and the Bombay presidency, where he formed an element to be reckoned with, competing in art and science, and in medi- cine and law, and in engineering, for office and works, which were formerly in almost exclusive possession of the English. There were now five universities which held examinations and granted degrees. Turning to native politics, he thought from what he had said of the general condition of the people that it would be admitted that the questions raised by the recent Con- gress, elective legislative council, repeal of Arms Act, reduction of the army and the creation of a certain number of native volunteers, bristle with difficulties, and concessions in the way indicated could only be made with great care and caution. The agitation was carried on almost exclusively by the Hindoos in Bengal (Baboos), who rejoiced in their recently acquired know- ledge of Western civilization. It had really taken no hold on the masses of the people, and was at present looked upon with considerable disfavour by men of such practical broad and liberal views as Lord Dufferin. They admitted with satisfaction the great spirit of progress which English influence was infusing throughout India, and the greater prosperity and increasing population in the British as compared with the native states, but they could not afford to overlook the inherent idea, existing for centuries in all Oriental minds, of the virtue of a long line of recognised descent—of the absolute power of hereditary rulers. The Hindoo was not democratic; he did not-as yet believe in «the people ;”” he was very susceptible to impressions of mag- nificence and historical greatness, and above all to evidence of power, of wealth, and of prestige, and that must not be lost sight of in our mode of government. When Western ideas of individual independence were better understood, when the natives had realised the duties and responsibilities of political power and shown a more marked desire to exercise it, there could be no doubt that an enlightened and progressive policy would guide the Government of India, and a new and important era in her development would begin. Whenever that time should come, as come he felt it must (if we were to retain India as a dependency), it,would be one of the brightest periods in the annals of a country which had striven so long and so successfully in the interests of freedom and material growth, and another 38 tribute to the power and intelligence of the Anglo-Saxon race. *‘ To have found a great people,” said Mr. Macaulay, in July, 1833, speaking on the Government of India Bill, in the House of Com- mons, ‘‘ sunk in the lowest depths of slavery and superstition, to have so ruled them as to make them desirous and capable of all the privileges of citizens would indeed be a title of glory all our own.” “ | sis'a\eie.slele/elsle/elnix ism O Grant, W. Lewis .....ccesseees “Literary Soirée.” ....sseessseeeee _ JebHIE INE IE BAGaonbe Sogo 000C ‘‘Tennyson in Relation to Modern DH OUCH tare stelaleieielticlaretetciets 25 Holden, John ........s..e.-... ‘‘Charles Kingsley’s, ‘‘ Hereward. ” 14 Horsfall, T. C........ sees “The Use of Art in pela Education.” Gonodsan All Klein, The Rev. B., D.Sc.,F.L.8. ‘‘ Deep Sea Explorations “and their VESUESH2 Weclereseiaieietaleccicie steleteleetete 11 Rawlinson, J., J.P. ...c00cececes Discussion “ The MW’ pe Tariff. OES Roberts, T. H......+.+0e00.-.. ‘' Lheosophy.” 40 Sagar, Benjamin ............+ “Browning ; His “Later. Lite ‘and WiOrKeiarciaais'siele sqqcdsouncadons Ue Smith, Swire .......0+- “ Useful Education.” .......... neo, ale Thursby, J.0.58., B. NG ace “ Hton College, Historical ‘and Descriptive.” a 38 Whittaker, John ...........06. “ Our duty with regard to "Hereditary and other Diseases from the standpoint of Human Solidarity.’ 66 Wilkinson, Tattersall........- . ‘*Fragmentary Sketches of Local History & Manners, Customs & Reminiscences of old Burnley’’.. 63 Wyles, Thomas ...........4+ . ‘Travels: How, When, and Where.” 50 ——E 0) —— EXCURSIONS. Oxford eAnGMmVACuniby re reierlelevala!olaleves ereieta lelerorellctelelel.e;c/o\sr ver eteretete So000¢ 5 ths StonyhurstiCollere visa cstere'e sicvels)sioveielelel eles (0 sie wise» ofolsjalelsisralisielelojeveintoimmn ce 91 INDEX. PAGE. AOR LORRTOBR Se iterators elorelatiniaie eis\ePasel ove'tnfoilcfave/syols ciplelele.e claves) eivis'cieieiers 1 O SEMENEEIS eacterefestete ave io stat arcs Liaela 0 olinem aps oaletaictd die ays oleis “evaleisis(evare\s slerelece‘s/evaeteerter | 1.0 NIN EVASIVE PORT a Ucreth coh beleys\ ai etere olaid diate eieieie) wiejslevelalsvaleisie.e.e ve ee’siereieisreia, » ATSB Oe MIM TINGS states ote ceieie/ainjo) sisieid (e eselete vle's siviclelsia/eis leis asis'sjeinecwieeieies Oo SuMMARIES OF PAPERS READ DURING THE YEAR .........20+.+++2.11 t0 77 EE ROURSTONA Ys cleretaichayener ie orale sinvaidlasietale etna! eslaie a.ais/albiaicleisesiesisiechwseecee 7S PEER RAR Nc (ee, cisisiale er apaictelore eicrs hs ciel alata sieejee inva ap stews ewcletesege sae hOitO 2 STATEMENT OF ACCOUNTS ..ccescccvccccccccucseccscsesesecessecsess 93 List or MEMBERS—HONORARY AND ORDINARY.....e.eeeecceseeees 94 t0 89 ALPHABETICAL List OF READERS OF PAPERS......e0eeeeccccccsecseses 90 Burghope & Strange, Publishers, &c., Burnley, BURNLEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CLUB. TRANSACTIONS. MOE. ST: a8. 1891I—1892. PRICE TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE. BURGHOPE & STRANGH, ST. JAMES’S STREET, BURNLEY. MDCCCXCIV. BURNLEY LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC CLUB. TRANSACTIONS. VOTE) TX. 18QI. PRICE TWO SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE. BURGHOPE & STRANGE, ST, JAMES’S STREET, BURNLEY. MDCCCXCIII, Burnley Diterary and Scientific Club. ESTABLISHED 18738. —_—_4—_— President: FRED. J. GRANT, J.P. Vice-Presidents : J. C. Brumwety, M.D., J.P. J. Lanerrmetp Warp, M.A. ALFRED STRANGE. ALDERMAN GREENWOOD, J.P. W. A. Wapprineton. W. Lewis Grant. Hon. Treasurer: JAMES KAY, J.P. Committee: Frep. H. Hit. G. B. RawcuirFe. Jas. LANCASTER. Rev. T. Leyanp. Wm. Tompson. Tos. PREston. Hon. Secretary: THOMAS HARTLEY ROBERTS, Nicholas Street, Burnley. Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule Rule 5 RULES. That the Society be named the ‘“‘ Burnuey Literary AND ScIentTiric Cxius.”’ That the objects of the Club shall be the instruction and mental recreation of its members by means of original papers, discussions, and conversation of a Literary and Scientific character. Party Politics and Religious controversies to be excluded. That arrange- ments be made during the Summer for Excursions to places of Historic and Natural interest. That the Club consist of Ordinary and Honorary members. That the Committee shall have power to accept the services of others than members. That the Club meet on Tuesday evenings at 7-45, the meetings being weekly from September to April. Any meetings held in the Summer months to be preparatory to the Excursions. That the Secretary shall commence the ection of each meeting by reading the minutes of the last meeting. Candidates for membership to be proposed and seconded at one meeting, and balloted for at the next: a majority of three-fourths of the members present being required to secure the election. Oan- didates for Honorary Membership shall be proposed only after a recommendation from the Committee. That the officers consist of a President, six Vice- Presidents, Treasurer, Secretary, and a Committee of six members, who shall manage the affairs of the Club; four to forma quorum. Such officers to be chosen by Ballot at the Annual Meeting, which shall be held on the first Tuesday in April. Nominations to be received only at the three meetings next pre- ceding the Annual Meeting. Rule 8. Rule 9. Rule 10. Rule 11: Rule 12. Rule 13. 6 That the reading of any paper shall not occupy more than one hour, the remaining portion of the time, up to ten o'clock, to be spent in conversation and discussion. No speaker to occupy more than five minutes, or to speak more than once, except by per- mission of the Chairman. That a Sessional Programme shall be prepared by the Secretary, and printed, in which the business of each evening shall be stated. All subjects proposed to be brought before the Club to be approved by the Committee of Management. Each member shall have the privilege of introducing a friend, * but no person so introduced, shall be allowed to take part in the proceedings, unless invited by the Chairman, to whom the said person’s name shall be communicated on his entrance into the room. The Committee shall have power to declare any meeting ‘‘ Special,’’ and to make such arrangements as to admission of friends at such meeting as they shall think proper. That an annual Subscription of 10s. be paid by ordinary members, and any person whose subscription is in arrear for three months shall cease to be a member of the Club. The Accounts of the Club shall be made up by the Treasurer to the end of December in each year; and a Balance Sheet shall, after having been audited, and passed by the Committee, be printed and sent to the members before the Annual Meeting. That the Rules be altered only at the Annual Meeting in April, or at a Special Meeting; in both cases a fortnight’s Notice shall be given to the members, stating the nature of the proposed alteration. The Secretary shall be empowered to cali a Special Meeting on receiving a requisition signed by six members. “No gentleman residing within the Parliamentary Borough, not being a member, will be eligible for admission, INTRODUCTORY REPORT. In presenting the ninth volume of Transactions, the Committee regrets to have to accord a diminished attendance at the Meetings of the Club during the past two sessions, although some of the papers which have been read have been of more than average interest and ability. On June 6th, last, a very pleasant excursion was made to Rylstone, Grassington, Upper Wharfedale, and Bolton Abbey. On July 28th, 29th and 30th, last, an excursion was made to Stratford-on-Avon, Kenilworth, and Coventry. This excursion did not meet with the support which was expected, having regard to the interest of the places visited, only 14 members and friends joining the excursion. The Autumn Session was characterised by some very good work, and was closed on December 15th by a Musical Soirée under the direction of Mr. Matthew Birkett. The average attendance during the Session was 30 members, 18 friends, making a total of 49 per meeting. The Spring Session which commenced on January 19th, was of a varied, useful and interesting character. The average attendance was 27 members and 12 friends making a total of 39 per meeting, The average attendance for the whole year was thus 44 per meeting ; which was 11 per meeting less than that of the preceding year. 8 During the year 11 new members have been admitted, and 6 members have resigned their Mem- bership or left the town. The total number of members at present is 24 honorary members and 197 ordinary members. Twenty-one papers have been read during the year, of which 11 have been by members and 10 by friends. Your Committee believe that there have been special circumstances to account for the diminished attendance. At the same time, if the past successes of the Club are to be repeated, it will be absolutely necessary that the efforts of the Officers and Committee should be well supported by those of the members generally. LQ SS Was ee), GA IE Ce 7 9 SYLLABUS. JANUARY TO APRIL, 1891. Jan. 18.—Paper, ‘‘Mountaineering,” (Illustrated by Lantern Views of Mountain Scenery). Wm. Lancaster, Junr. ,, 20.—Paper, ‘The History of Lighting from the earliest times.”’ Edwin Lawrence LL.B., B.A. », 27.—Paper, ‘‘ Life in an old North Lancashire Country House, in the 16th and 17th Centuries ”’ (Illustrated). Tom C. Smith, F.R.H.S. Feb. 38.—Paper, ‘‘ Roads about Burnley.” Walter Southern. », 10.—Paper, ‘‘ An age of Terrible Reptiles.” Prof. Law, F.G.S., of Halifax. ,, 17.—Paper, “ Illusions and dreams.” Rev. Father Maher, §.J., M.A., of Stonyhurst. », 24.—Paper, ‘The Cotton Trade of India.” (Illustrated.) Jas. Smalley, of Accrington. Mar. 3.—Paper, “Some remarkable Facts.” (Illustrated by Lantern). J. L. Kerr, M.D., C.M., F.R.S., (Edinburgh). », 10.—Paper, Coleridge’s ‘* Ancient Mariner.” Rev. J. Marshall Mather. ,, 17.—Paper, ‘‘ Rambles in Normandy with a Camera.” Edward W. Mellor, of Lytham. ,, 24.—Paper, ‘“‘ The white Doe of Rylstone,”’ (Illustrated by Lantern). J. C. Brumwell, M.D., J.P. ,, 31.—Paper, ‘‘ Dr. Samuel Johnson.” J. S. Balfour, M.P. April 7.—Annual Meeting. 10 SEPTEMBER TO DECEMBER, 1891. Sep. 29.—Paper, “‘ Compulsory National Insurance :—would its application be of benefit to the Burnley Union ?” John Whittaker. Oct. 6.—Paper, “ A Tour in the Touraine.” (Illustrated). F. §. Marvin. 13.—Paper, “ Macbeth and King Lear.” Rev. T. Leyland. ” 20.—Paper, ‘‘ Matthew Arnold.” EK. Raworth. President of the Harrogate Literary Society. 9 ,, 27.—Paper, “ Illusions.” (Illustrated). J. H. Hudson, B.A. Nov. 3.—Paper, ‘‘ Some Social Problems, and attempts to solve them.” James Lancaster. ” 10.—Paper, ‘‘ The Engineering Aspect of the Manchester Ship Canal.” Stanley Dunkerley, B.Sc. ,, 17.—Paper, “ Beethoven,” (with musical Ilustrations). Herr Peretz. ,, 24.—Paper, ‘“‘ Commercial Geography.” E. Sowerbutts, F.R.G.S. Dec. 1.—Paper, ‘ Food,” J. L. Smirthwaite-Black, M.B., C.M. ,, 8.—Paper, ‘“‘ Myths and History. ’ M. C. Carman, B.A. ,, 15.—Musical Soirée. Director: M. Birkett. 11 “ MOUNTAINEERING.” (Illustrated by Lantern Views of Mountain Scenery.) By WILLIAM LANCASTER, Junr., January 13th, 1891. “J will get me to some far off land, Where higher mountains under heaven do stand, And touch the blue at rising of the stars, Whose voice they hear; where no rough mingling mars The great clear voices.” The impressions made upon cultivated minds by mountain scenery, though not by any means favourable, is both instructive and interesting. Addison, in a paper he wrote to the Tattler, Goldsmith, and Dr. Johnson, writing of his Scotch trip, all look back with anything but pleasurable remembrances; and the general public, in a somewhat vague and lazy manner, have the idea that men put themselves to very considerable trouble and risk, to crawl and struggle up a mountain, only to come down again, and be able to say they had been at the top. But criticism is only valuable according to the knowledge of the critic, and some of our countrymen who have submitted themselves to this discipline, speak of it as being not unattended with pleasure, and even in some cases indeed as producing the highest form of enjoyment the human mind can conceive of. Tf this love for mountains be a foolish notion, it is some satisfaction to have it shared by such men as John Ruskin, Professors Tyndall and Huxley, Mr. Justice Wills, and Mr. Justice Grove. But it is by the writings of Scott, Shelley, Coleridge, and particularly of Wordsworth, that much of this prejudice has been dissipated, by their founding of the romantic School of Poetry, and they have caused to spring up a more extended appreciation of the beauties of nature, in her sterner moods, as well as in her peaceful and pastoral aspects. Climbing, though a sport, does not appeal only to the physical side of our nature, but also to the finer sentiments, when pursued in a right way and with a soul open to impressions. By the climber taking all due precautions ; by taking the easy mountains first; by avoiding starting m uncertain weather; by climbing up what he knows to be the right side of the peak, the dangers can be reduced to a very small limit ; and, considering the vast numbers of all Nationalities who are annually at work in the Alps and other centres, the proportion of accidents is really very small, 12 A great mountaineering authority sums up the whole matter in these words. ‘‘ The prudent climber will recollect what he owes to his family and to his friends, he will also recollect that he owes something to the mountains, and will scorn to bring them into disrepute. He will not go on a glacier without a rope, he will not climb alone, he will treat a great mountain with the respect it deserves, he will turn his back steadily on mist and storm, he will not go where avalanches are in the habit of falling ; above all if he loves the mountains for their own sakes, for the lessons they can teach, and the happiness they can bring, he will do nothing that can discredit his manly pursuit, or bring down the ridicule of the undescerning upon the noblest pastime in the world.” ‘ THE HISTORY OF LIGHTING FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES. By EDWIN LAWRENCE, January 20th, 1891. How many ages man lived on the earth before he discovered fire it is useless to attempt to ascertain. His first fire must have been made of sticks and his first light a brand taken from the fire. He would soon discover that certain sticks kept burning while certain other woods that made capital fuel were unsuitable for carrying a light. Wherever the pine tree grows man uses a solid torch. This the Romans called ‘‘ Teda’’ and the Greeks ‘‘ Das” (6as), and in modern Greece the name is “Dadia” (dada). We are told that the ancient Greeks specially prepared the trees (pinus maritima) by making large incisions near the root, twelve months before they cut out that portion of the tree which had by this means become full of turpentine.—This plan of forming excellent torches is still practised in Modern Greece, in Norway, in America, and in fact wherever pine trees rich in turpentine flourish. Where, however, as in Italy, pine trees were not very common, man discovered that a “‘ bundle”’ of small twigs of almost any sort of wood keeps alight. The Romans called such a torch ‘ Fax,” (a bundle), the Greeks ‘‘ Phanos”’ (favds), and Oak, Ilex, Hazel, Hornbeam, and Vine are mentioned as specially suitable. (Athenzeus xv., 57, 61.—Pliny H.N., xvi., 18., xviii, 26—Aristophanes Lys: 308). Pliny likewise (H.N., xix., 2) mentions Spanish broom. ‘Torches of this description were in such general use that early evening was called <‘ first torch” (prima fax).’ These torches in later times were usually filled inside with fibrous 13 substances impregnated with pitch, tallow, oil, wax, &., and a Discus or metal plate with a hole in it was used to protect the hand from the scalding drops. The Romans likewise used bundles of rushes, papyrus, &c., twisted like a rope and smeared with wax, &c., and this was called a ‘‘ Funalis.’’ The Greeks called it ‘Skolax” (cxoAdé), and we call it a “link.” This was ordinarily used by the Romans for lighting their banqueting halls, and Cicero says that C. Duilius with many a link and flute player delighted himself *‘ delectabatur crebro funali et tibicine.”’ This form of torch was also called ‘‘ Cereus,” a wax light, and the holder or candlestick was called ‘‘funale.”” What the Greeks and Romans called a ‘‘ Lampas ” was the (brass) case for such a torch something like the case of a Palmers candle or carriage lamp which was principally, if not exclusively, used in the ‘« Lampas ”’ races. The Candle ‘Candela,’’ which was either of wax (cerea), or tallow (sebacea), had a rush wick, and was generally made very thin, like what we now call a taper. Juvenal speaks of the short light of a candle ‘‘ breve lumen candele,” and Livy (xl., 29), calls a waxed string used for tying a bundle “candela” (fasces candelis involuti). Similar thin rush lights were common in this country less than a century ago, and the pincers which served as candlesticks are still to be found in old houses in Scotland and elsewhere. Gilbert White in his ‘‘ History of Selborne’’ letter xxvi., Nov. 1st, 1775, tells us that a pound of peeled rushes, about 1,600 in number, could be bought from the gipsies for a shilling, and he says these may be dipped in six pounds of grease obtained by saving the skimming of the bacon boilings for a year. He adds that a rush will burn about half-an-hour, and so calculates that a pound of rushes dipped in six pounds of bacon fat would give light for about 800 hours. Gilbert White expatiates on the great advantage it would be if the poorer classes only knew of this; but now-a-days we should not think much of such a miserably poor light. It is, however, almost certain that 100 years ago nine people out of ten rarely, if ever, used any artifical light in their homes excepting the fire. The City of London was first lit in 1735, but outside the gates the streets were unlit, and people carried torches, and seventy years ago all the better houses had iron extinguishers fixed at the entrance to put out torches. A few of these still remain. In Scotland, up to the beginning of this century, much use was made of the half-fossilised pine from the peat bogs, which was split into ‘“‘cannles’”’ and dried for six months in the chimney corner, and then burnt for light ina V shaped “ clivvie’’ at the end of a rod, which allowed the splinter to be set more or less obliquely.—Bundles of rushes smeared with wax are still used by tin-smiths for soldering with the blowpipe. 14 Candelabrum, originally a candlestick, came afterwards to signify a lamp stand. The Lamp. (Lampas as before mentioned means a torch- holder). The Latins called a Lamp “ Lucerna,’’ and the Greeks “‘Lychnos’”’ (Adxvos). A Lamp has been described as an apparatus for burning fluid combustible substances. Fluid combustible substances were, however, only practically known in hot climates. In colder countries a shell or hollow stone was filled with tallow, anda piece of moss or similar substance thrust into it. Our own prehistoric ancestors made circular hollows in stone for this purpose, and to-day the Esquimaux cut a square hole in soap stone. In tropical countries the lamp was probably a cocoa-nut shell filled with oil and with a floating wick. Up to within 50 years ago, the Scotch used the large whelk shell, ‘‘ the roaring buckie,” as a lamp. The Lamps of the Greeks and Romans were almost invariably small circular covered vessels with a hole in the top through which they were filled; this served also to supply air. ‘These had a handle on one side and one or more nozzles at the other side, the two nozzle lamp being called ‘‘dimyxos,” the three nozzle one ‘ trimyxos,”’ &c. Herodotus, writing about 450 B.C., refers to a ‘‘ Feast of Lamps,” which he saw at Sais in Egypt, and ceremonial lamps are mentioned in ‘ EHixodus,’’ but lamps only came into general use in Greece about 400 B.C. A little before that time, however, Callimachus designed the splendid gold lamp of the EKrectheum, which was furnished with a chimney shaped like a bronze palm tree to carry off the fumes. This lamp was said to have been filled only once a year. If this be true, it must have been fed with a mineral oil, and Strabo, (Geog. xvi., 15), speaks of solid asphalt and liquid asphalt as abounding in Babylonia, and says the liquid ‘Hygra” (typa) was called “naphtha,” (véd6a, a Persian word), and was burnt instead of oil in their lamps (“@ dv7’ eAafov tobs Adyvovs Katovat). The ordinary wick in early times was a mullein leaf, and this is still in common use in Spain. Later the wick was an untwisted rope-like mass of fibre of flax, tow, &c. Pausanias says that ‘* Carpasus ’’ makes the best wicks ; this is now considered to have been cotton, which was certainly known to the Egyptians. Rushes were also used for wicks, aud Asbestos is likewise mentioned. Some of the ancient bronze lamps still have attached to them the hook with a point, something lke a small boathook, with which the wick was regulated, and many of the lamps were fitted with a shield to protect the light from the wind. But the ancients were also acquainted with “lanterns,” that is, transparent cases to contain lamps, the sides being filled with horn, (of which Carthage supplied the best), or with bladder or parchment, Dark Lanterns were also constructed for military 15 purposes with three sides dark, and the fourth transparent.— We are told that Gideon’s men carried lamps in pitchers, and then breaking the pitchers they waved the lights, and so frightened and routed the enemy. The Romans also used for military purposes metal fire baskets fixed on long poles. It must be remembered, in glancing at the means of lighting known to the ancients, that all alike gave a flickering unsteady light, with a foul smoke and fetid smell, and that till a little more .than a century ago, scarcely any improvement had been attempted. No candle snuffed itself, no lamp gave anything approaching a clear, steady, smokeless light. In 1783 however, Leger, of Paris, devised a flat ribbon wick and burner, which produced a broad thin flame with but little smoke. This he soon further improved by adopting a curved form, and this led to Argand’s great invention of the cylindrical hollow wick, patented in 1784, with an iron chimney to create a draught. In the following year, his partner Quinquet exchanged the iron chimney for the glass chimney resting on a perforated gallery, a little below the burner, and experience gave the glass chimney the well-known shoulder a little above the flame. Then for the first time was produced a clear, steady, smokeless, full light, and other improvements in lamps were rendered possible. The animal oilsthen in use had to be kept at almost the exact level of the burner. This in the reading lamp was accomplished by a reservoir on the same principle as the drinking fountain fur a canary bird, and for the table lamp the oil was contained in a narrow rim of V section, which went round the lamp and on which the lamp glass or the shade rested. For cold countries, where oil would not readily flow, Parker invented a lamp in which the oil, fat or lard, was contained in a vessel through which passed the chimney, which was of metal excepting about 2 inches of glass, at the level of the flame. In 1800, Carcel invented his method of pumps, moved by clockwork at the base of the Lamp, which pumped up a sufficiency of oil. These Lamps were very effective for burning vegetable oils, but were costly and liable to. get out of order. Although they are still in use for lamps of very high quality, they are almost superseded by Franchot’s Moderator Lamp, invented 1836. In these lamps the oil is forced up by a large piston pressed by a spring on to the whole body of the oil, which is prevented from flowing too quickly by a wire in the supply tube which checks the flow, exactly in proportion to the tension of the spring, hence the term moderator. These lamps were exceedingly popular in this country until the great importation of mineral paraffin oil. Mineral oils and other 16 volatile hydro-carbons and alcohols had been long known, but all attempts to satisfactorily burn them had failed until, in 1834, Young brought out his lamp to burn rectified turpentine, which he called ‘‘camphine.”’ In this lamp a central metal button, known as the Liverpool button, is added to the Argand burner, while the glass chimney is much contracted at the top and swelled in the middle. This invention and modifications of it were at first of little value, but became of immense importance when cheap petroleum was (since 1859) imported by millons of gallons, and the poorest cottage was able to rejoice in a light more brilliant than any palace could have boasted of but a few years before. Another successful lamp for street use was the naphtha lamp that burns a spray of spirit by means of a red hot iron ring. But to return to the candle. It is believed that in 1809 Cambacéres, minister to Napoleon I, suggested the twisted wick, which bending outside the flame, is consumed and thus “ snuffs itself.” Before this time all candles, excepting rushlights, required to be frequently snuffed, and could, therefore, only be placed in situations easily accessible. After 1810, the best candles were made with self-snuffing wicks manufactured under various patents, in some of which one strand is shorter than the rest, and is strained tight when the candle is cast, in others, a strand was coated with bismuth (Palmer’s metallic wicks). This plan is now obsolete, but the method of impregnating the wick with a solution of boracie acid, which in burning forms a ball of glass that by its weight pulls the wick out of the flame, is still sometimes used. Formerly, however, self-snuffing candles, were only the occasional luxury of the rich, till in 1840, Wilson intro- duced cheap self-snuffing candles for the illumination in honour of the marriage of Queen Victoria. Before 1825, when Chevreul, (who only recently died aged upwards of 100 years), succeeded in eliminating the non-inflammable glycerine, by means of saponification by alkali, no artifical improvement in natural fats had been effected. In 1835, DeMilly accomplished the same result cheaply by using lime, and he established in Paris the famous manufacture of ‘ Bougies de l’étoile,’’ which were sold at 2 francs a pound. Since that time chemistry has taught us how to convert any kind of fat into excellent candles, till to-day the Scotch paraffin and the Westminster-wax candles are sold at 43d. a pound., i.e, a half-penny cheaper than the commonest tallow dips which are made (but now only in small quantities) by repeatedly dipping the unplaited wick into melted fat. All other candles are cast into moulds, excepting real wax candles, which are still made by pressing the wax softened in warm water round the wick by hand. 17 Gas. At present the most important means of lighting is by coal gas. It had been long known that an inflammable vapour was produced when coal was heated, but it is believed that Lord Dundonald was the first to convey such vapour in a pipe, when in 1787 he lit with a sort of bonfire blaze Culross Abbey. Ten years later Murdock, the manager, lit up Boulton & Watt’s workshops, and also supplied gas to some of his neighbours. This was followed in 1801, by M. Le Bon lighting his own house in Paris with gas from wood. In 1803, F. A. Winsor, who had seen Le Bon’s experiments succeeded in lighting the Lyceum Theatre, with coal gas, and in 1807 he lighted Pall Mall, and in 1810, he formed the Chartered Gas Light and Coke Company, which still continues to be the largest gas manufacturer in the world. At first the purification of the gas was but little under- stood: now the waste products obtained in the process of purification are nearly equal in value to the gas. Superior means of burning are also being invented. In a Lighthouse as many as 108 jets of gas are concentrated together in rings, (in imitation of the 6 Argand wicks, one inside the other, for burning colza oil, and the lamp with 4 concentric wicks and a central brass button, invented by Captain Doty, for burning petroleum oil in lighthouses). Mention must here be made of the miner’s safety lamp. Formerly, many of the best coal mines were unworkable on account of the presence of inflammable gas, and the rudest methods were adopted to get light sufficient to enable the pitman to work. Stale fish skins were tried, but the faint phoshorescent light although safe was almost useless. The common plan was the ‘Steel mill,’ in which a notched wheel was caused to revolve against a flint by an attendant, while the miner tried to work as best he could. In 1818, Dr. Clany constructed an apparatus in which the air from the mine was supplied to the lamp through water by a pair of bellows. This was successful, as the lamp was extinguished when the gas was explosive, but it was too clumsy for general use. In November, 1815, however, Sir Humphrey Davy, the wise philosopher, and the still wiser unlearned mechanic, George Stephenson, separately produced the ‘‘ Davy ’’ and the “ Geordy’”’ lamp, the latest modern lamp being more or less a compound of the two. But in the opinion of many the miner’s lamp and all other illuminants for every purpose will eventually be superseded by the Electric Light. The Execrric Licut is roughly divided into the two great divisions of the Incandescent Light and the Arc Light. The germ of the Incandescent light was discovered quite early in the knowledge of Electricity, when it was found that a small wire 18 connecting the ends of larger wires through which a strong current was passing became red hot. And the Arc light was discovered in 1810, when Sir H. Davy, experimenting with a very strong battery, happened to place two pieces of charcoal at tlie connexion of the wires, and was startled by the appearance of the most brilliant light known to man, though the Lime-light, produced by heating a cone of lime in a jet of hydrogen (or even common coal gas) mixed with oxygen, is intensely brilliant, as is also the light produced by burning magnesium wire. No real use of either the Incandescent or the Are light was, however, possible till the invention of the Hlectro-Magnet by Stringer in 1825, followed in 1832, ky Faraday’s great discovery of Electro-Magnetic induction. At the same time rods of charcoal suitable for electric lighting were being prepared. These are now usually made of powdered coke pressed and baked. In 1847 W. E. Straite attempted to regulate automatically the distance between the pair of charcoal rods as they were consumed, and this was fairly successfully accomplished by Serrin, in 1857. And in 1858, the South Foreland Lighthouse was temporarily illuminated with the Electric Arc by means of the Magneto-Hlectrie Apparatus of Holmes and Faraday, worked by a steam engine, and with Dubose’s modification of Serrin’s regulator. A few years later electric lighting was permanently established at the South Foreland and Dungeness Lighthouses. Wilde, in 1866, made an exceedingly powerful magneto-electric, and in 1866-7 Sir C. Wheatstone and Mr. Siemens (afterwards Sir W. Siemens), made the first true dynamo without permanent magnets. This, in 1870, Gramme greatly improved. These machines enabled electricity to be produced in unlimited quantity by the steam engine or other motive power. Since this time the march of progress has been rapid and continuous. In 1876, Jablochoff placed the pair of charcoal rods parallel to each other, and between them a non-conducting substance which was consumed with the rods. With this ‘‘ Jablochoff candle,”’ the Avenue de |’ Opéra at Paris, was illuminated in 1877, and the world was awakened to the powers of the new ‘‘ Child of Science.” In 1878 Edison succeeded in dividing the electric current and thus rendered the Incandescent light suitable for practical use. Before this, as early as 1845, King had taken out a patent for Incandescent light, and in 1873, Lodighim publicly and successfully shewed his Incandescent lights, which were in principle very similar to those of Edison. Meanwhile in 1860, Swan had still more closely approximated to Kdison’s invention, and after Edison’s trials and first failures, Swan carried on his own improvements side by side with those of Edison, so that now in America, there are 3 or 4 million Edison and Swan 19 incandescent lamps in use, and a million or two in England, if we include British steamships. The successful Incandescent Lamp is a filament of charcoal in a vacuum. This was at first prepared from cotton or strips of bamboo, but new is made from cellulose (gun cotton dissolved in naphtha), which is cut into strips. and attached to little platinum wires and then either baked in plumbago dust or (now more generally under Sawyer and Mann’s patent) flashed by electricity in hydro-carbon gas. The result of either of these methods is that the cellulose wholly disappears, and a solid thread of very superior charcoal is produced which will last for about 1,500 hours of light, and can be made of a size suitable for a tiny lamp not giving more light than a single candle up to the size suitable for a lamp equal to 3,000 candles. Hlectrie power for lighting dwellings is now being supplied by large companies, an effective meter having been invented to shew the quantity used which is indicated by the deposit of metal caused by the passage of the electric current. MEANS OF OBTAINING LIGHT. Our early ancestors, like existing savage tribes, obtained light with considerable difficulty. Certain natives of Australia always carry the fire in a ball of grass, and seem hardly able to kindle it afresh. Other savages obtain light by rubbing two sticks, that is—either by revolving a hard stick against a soft one by hand, or with the bow string,—or by sawing one half of a bamboo across the other half bamboo. Both these methods are tedious and troublesome. Obtaining fire by striking two flints, or by striking a flint against a fire stone (iron pyrites) and catching the spark in dry moss or wood dust, was a great advance. And when steel became known, and there was added a slip of wood coated with sulphur which easily took light from the incandescent dust or tinder, nobody for thousands of years seemed to think anything better could be devised. It is true that fifty years ago, people had frequently to ride long distances to get a light when their tinder happened to be damp, a very common thing in Scotland and Ireland. All guns also were fired by flint and steel locks, indeed some millions of gun flints are still annually made at Brandon in Suffolk for export to savage tribes. About three hundred years ago, the Venetians invented a sort of umbrella- stand in which a dozen pieces of prepared rope were placed upright in a tray of gun powder, fired by a flint gun lock; thus instantaneously supplying each sailor with a means of firing his cannon. No chemical means of obtaining light appears to have been attempted till in 1805, Chancel, of Paris, brought out a bottle containing asbestos saturated with sulphuric acid into which a match coated with sulphur tipped with chlorate of potash was 20 dipped, very rapidly otherwise the match was extinguished as it was drawn from the bottle. In the same year 1805, some sort of phosphorus match appears to have been tried in Paris, and in 1809, Derepas proposed to mix magnesia with the phosphorus to render it less dangerous. Derosne is also said to have made a friction match with a phosphorus tip in 1816. Again in 1823, another attempt was made to use phosphorus. A bottle of phesphorus and sulphur which had been melted together and very securely corked was supplied, and on inserting a bit of wood and fishing out a small pellet, this became almost instantly ignited, but it was thought very lucky if this was done many times without exploding the whole bottle. In 1828, also Dobereiner, brought out his beautiful lamp, producing hydrogen gas which ignited itself by rendering a piece of spongy platinum red hot. This is still the delight of Chemical Exhibitions, but never came into general use. ‘The year 1827 saw the first really practical match, when John Walker, of Stockton-on-Tees, brought out his ‘‘ Congreves,” (named from the Congreve rocket), a stick of wood or card coated with sulphur and tipped with a mixture of sulphate of antimony and chlorate of potash and gum. These matches were sold at 84 for a shilling and ignited by being drawn through a folded piece of glass paper—if the head was not pulled off in the operation, which happened with at least half the matches. In 1830, Prometheans were produced. These were short rolls of paper tipped with chlorate of potash and sugar, and having attached to them a small glass globule containing sulphuric acid, and on breaking this with a pincers the acid ignited with the potash. the year 1833 saw the appearance of the phosphorus match of the present day, manufactured in several countries almost simultaneously, (specially at Vienna, under Preschel’s plan and by Moldenhauer, at Darmstadt). The ordinary match composition consists of phosphorus and lead with bichromate (or chlorate) of potash and per-oxide of magnesium, the match being previously dipped in sulphur or petroleum. In 1845, Schroétter, of Vienna, discovered the innocuous red phosphorus, and in 1855 Bryant and May’s safety match appeared on a plan similar to Lanstrom’s, viz :—a match tipped with chlorate of potash, which ignites only on a box coated with red phosphorus. Before this Vestas had been produced, in which the body of the match is formed of 20 or 30 strands of cotton passed through stearine or paraffin and tipped with the ordinary composition. Fusees for smokers, formerly made of thick paper saturated with saltpetre and bichromate of potash tipped with ordinary com- position, are now supplanted by Vesuvians with large oval heads of a porous mixture of charcoal, saltpetre and scented bark, glass and gum, and the ordinary composition. 21 There is yet another means of obtaining light, viz: by the beautiful static electric torch for lighting gas which produces frictional electricity by pressing a button with a spring. In conclusion, as an evidence of the importance to man of the modern means of quickly getting a light, it may be mentioned that it is calculated that about 6 to 10 matches a day are used by every European, and that the total annual make of the World exceeds half-a-billion, that is five hundred thousand million of matches, 500,000,000,000. «These if put end to end would stretch twenty million of miles, and go eight hundred times round the earth at the equator and form a path seven or eight feet wide. LIFE IN AN OLD NORTH-LANCASHIRE COUNTRY HOUSE IN THE SIXTEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES. BY TOM C. SMITH, F.R.H.S., Jan. 27th, 1891. The essayist took as his subject the old Elizabethan house, known as Hesketh End in Chipping, which is situated at the farthest north-eastern boundary ot the County Palatine. The historian of Whalley had unjustly termed it. uninteresting and obscure. It was, however, in the opinion of the essayist, the most interesting building, apart from the churches, for many miles round. Within and without this old structure were Latin inscriptions, one of which, running round a dado, was a curious record of the bringing of Brutus to London, the conquering of England by Cesar, the Saxons, and the Danes, the battle of Flodden, and the “Reception of the faith.” ‘‘ Fear God, honour the king, love thy neighbour ; this do and live for ever,”’ was the translation of another of these interesting records. The essayist then entered into an examination as to the time of erection and probable ownership of Hesketh End, and inclined to the opinion that the Alston’s were preceded by the Hesketh’s, who were staunch Catholics. It was not at all unusual for residents at that time to build their houses after the style of churches, go far as the Gothic character of the architecture was concerned. This might account for the presence of the curious inscriptions, but on the other hand the stones might have been brought from some church or chapel in the neighbourhood. The essayist went on to treat of the manners and customs of what he termed the epoch-making period from 1560 to 1680. 22 Life was then taken more leisurely and easier than now. Men and women lived then where now they existed. The one blot on the life of the 16th and 17th centuries was the belief in witcheraft, but for honest sincerity of thought and deed the people of 200 years ago were, if he might be permitted to say so, immeasurably superior to the people of modern days.—Many points of interest were raised in the discussion which followed. ROADS ABOUT BURNLEY. By WALTER SOUTHERN, February 8rd, 1891. In that chapter of his history in which he describes the state of England, in 1695, Macaulay cautions us that ‘if we would study with profit the history of our ancestors, we must be constantly on our guard against that delusion which the well- known names of families, places, and offices naturally produce, and must never forget that the country of which we read was a very different country from that in which we live ;” and subsequently he draws a lively picture of the troubles and dangers which beset the traveller and the trader even so late as the end of the 17th century, in consequence of the badness of the roads and the bands of highwaymen which infested them. We need Macaulay’s warning when we try to call up a picture of the state of our. own particular hills and valleys as they were two centuries ago. Whilst the names of Towneley and Shuttleworth, of Halsted and Parker, and Hargreaves and Whitaker, are still household words to us, whilst the copyholder still goes half-yearly to the manorial court to render suit and service, and whilst nearly every hill and valley, township and stream, clough, road and lane retains the same old Roman, Saxon, or Danish name, it is difficult to realise Macaulay’s statement, undoubtedly true though it is, that ‘could the Kngland of 1685 be by some magical process set before our eyes, we should not know one landscape in a hundred or one building in ten thousand; the country gentleman would not recognise his own fields, the inhabitant of the town would not recognise his own street. Hverything has been changed, but the great features of nature and a few massive and durable works of human art.”’ Of the agencies which have wrought such a change in the face of nature within the short space of two centuries, the vast improvement in the means of communication has been the most powerful. During the fifty years from the time of which Macaulay was speaking, a great movement had begun and was 23 in process of consummation in nearly every country in England, which substituted for the badly made and ruinous parish roads of the country that splendid network of turnpike roads which was to play such an important part in fostering and developing the commercial energies and resources of England, It is my main purpose, within the limits of a short paper, to give some account of the state of our roads, particularly in our own neigh- bourhood, before the great change was made by the ‘“‘ turnpiking ” of the roads, but it would leave my paper even more imperfect than it necessarily is, were I to omit all reference to those great road makers, a people whose innovations were as far-reaching and beneficent in their way as the work of our modern engineers—I mean the Roman conquerors of Britain. It was the fate of the Roman people, that to their work of conquest there was no finality. They could not stop. If the rich plains of Southern Italy became the prize of their prowess, they could not, if they had wished, sit down and enjoyit. They had to guard their conquests on the Po and the Arno against the incursions of northern barbarians, and that led them to the conquest of Gaul and Germany, and ultimately to the invasion of Britain. In Britain itself they could not, if they had wished, rest satisfied with the possession of the southern and more fertile parts of the island, for if they bound to themselves by a just rule and useful public works the tribes of these parts, it became a constant necessity to fight and fight again, until by the strength of their military positions they could either conquer or hold in check the wild tribes of the Brigantes and the Caledonians. That, I think, was the raison d’étre of the numerous roads and camps which crowd certain parts of Lancashire and Yorkshire. The Brigantes, the warlike people whose territory included Lancashire and Yorkshire, were a constant trouble to the Romans and a terror to the loyal tribes who received the Roman tule and civilisation, until the campaigns of Vespasian’s generals, Cerealis and Agricola, reduced them to subjection or made them impotent by the establishment of fortified camps garrisoned by Roman soldiers. The year 79 of our era, seems to have been that in which Agricola by wise and prudent conduct, more even than by war, was able to plant these necessary strongholds in the country of the Brigantes, and with a power so strengthened to press forward against the Caledonians. Mr. Watkin, in his Roman Lancashire, places Mancunium (Manchester), Bremetonacez (Ribchester), and Galacum (Over- borough), on the list of Agricola’s forts. He thinks that the fortress at Colne was of a later date. In Yorkshire one of the earliest stations was Isurium (Aldborough), and later there were stations established nearer to us at Ilkley, and Slack, near Halifax. Of the roads which connected these fortresses of Agricola and 24 the later Roman generals we have considerable knowledge, verified by actual inspection of remains of roads, but it has to be largely supplemented by an estimation of probabilities and by conjecture. Some of the roads which are shown in Mr. Watkin’s fine map, are military roads of the first order, and some are only minor roads or vicinal ways, amongst which we must be content to include these of our own neighbourhood. In those days, as in these, we lay out of the main line of communication. From Manchester, the great Roman centre of the north-west, one main line seems to have gone by Strangeways, Prestwich, Stand, Radcliffe, Spen Moor, Cockey Moor, Edgeworth, Darwen, Blackburn, and Revidge to Ribchester. Another road is supposed to have led from Manchester by Rochdale and Littleborough over Blackstone Edge to Cambodunem (Slack, near Halifax.) From Ribchester there were undoubted military roads to the north by Lancaster and Overborough, and another nearer home went north-east along the Ribble, passed a little east of Mitton, crossed the Barrow brook, and what is now the Clitheroe and Whalley Road, went by Standen Hall to Chatburn and Downham, and proceeded in an east-north-east direction to Burwen Castle, near Elslack, thence proceeding in a north-easterly direction probably to Ilkley. The minor roads or vicinal ways have been amply demon- strated by Dr. Whitaker, our own Mr. T. T. Wilkinson, and other antiquaries, and are accepted by Mr. Watkin, The camp at Portfield, on the north side of the Calder, near Whalley, was reached by a branch from the road from Ribchester to Chatburn. From Portfield there were two roads which immediately concern us. One went north-east above Sabden along Wheatley {Lane (where Roman coins have been found) and by Barrowford to Castor Cliff. It has been exposed near Newchurch-in-Pendle. Another appears to have gone from Portfield through Burnley. On the east of Burnley it forms the road which is known as the Long Causeway, the old road through Cliviger and Heptonstall to Halifax, passing Mereclough, where Roman coins were found in 1696 and 1765, and Maidens Cross and Dukes Cross. The objective of this road was Cambodunem (Slack, near Halifax.) From this road through Burnley there appears to have been a branch by Botten to the camps on Worsthorne Moor. Whether these camps were connected with Castor Cliff seems to be matter of doubt. From Castor Cliff a road ran nearly southward and comes as near as Broad Bank on the road from Haggate to Extwistle, but though it is in a direct line for Kingstones Camp, there appears to be no intervening link left. We are, therefore, connected by minor roads with the great system of fortresses of which I have spoken. These well-planned, well-made roads have largely resisted the ravages and the vandalism of sixteen or ——— 25 seventeen centuries, and remain to this day as evidences of a civilization which was rolled back by the strong barbarism of the northern hordes opposed to the enervated power of Rome. Of the times which followed the withdrawal of the Romans there is little to be said in connection with my subject. The work begun by the Romans was certainly not carried on, and we can only imagine from the wretched state of the roads, even so late as the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, that travelling must have been a weary business in the still earlier periods, The construction and maintenance of roads was not part of the trinoda necessitas of the Saxons to which every man’s existence was by the ancient law subject, though the construction of bridges was. The only roads which the early English would add to the lines of communication which the Romans had left them, would be vicinal ways between the country houses of the feudal lords. In the dearth of information as to the state of our local roads in the middle ages, it may be not without interest to refer to some of the statutes whose language and purport show the general condition in those times of the highways, and the beginnings of our system of parish maintenance of highways. In this respect the history of the country at large is the history of our own locality. First we have the Statute of Winchester 13, Edw. I., which commands that highways leading from one market town to another shall be enlarged so that there be neither dyke, tree, nor bush whereby a man may lurk to do hurt within 200 feet on either side of the way, but the statute does not extend to ‘great trees.” On default by the lord, whereby any robberies or murder be done, he is made answerable. Next we have the Statute 22, Henry VIII., cap. 5, the foundation of the modern law ofcountry bridges. After reciting terrible evils which have happened to the king’s subjects through the decayed state of the bridges in the highways, and the uncertainty as to who should repair them, the statute enacts that those bridges (as to which it is not known who ought to repair them) shall be made by the inhabitants of the shire or the towns corporate, who are also made liable for the repairs of the roads over and 800 feet on each side of the bridge. The justices are enabled to tax the inhabi- tants through the constables for the necessary expenses. The kindness of Mr. Wm. Waddington, our local antiquary, enables me tv show to you a precept of the justices in 1683, by virtue of this statute directed to the constables for the repair of the bridges in the Hundred of Blackburn. You will see that Burnley is assessed along with the other townships. A fifteenth was originally a parliamentary tax based upon the value of a man’s moveable goods, but in time it came to designate the local taxes, and then it was applied to the assessable value 26 of a township. In the Shuttleworth accounts, between 1588 and 1620, there is frequent mention of the payment of fifteenths for the repair of bridges and highways to the constables of Burnley and Padiham. In the reign of Philip and Mary, we come to the statute (2 and 3 P. & M., ¢. 8), which recites that the highways were noisome and tedious to travel, and for the first time directed that the constables and churchwardens of every parish should yearly—on the Tuesday or Wednesday in Easter week—call together the parishioners and choose two honest persons to be supervisors (surveyors) of highways. Then the statute proceeds to enact that system of statute labour which was so long the means of the repairs of the highways, until its oppressiveness and its uselessness ended in its superscession by a better method of taxation. On four days in every year (it was afterwards increased to six) every person for every plough-land in the parish, and every other person keeping a draught or plough, was to send a wain or cart with oxen or horses and two able men, and every householder was to go himself or send an able substitute, and for eight hours on each of these four days the ways of the parish were to be amended by these persons, who were to bring with them the necessary tools. Statutes of Elizabeth followed in which this system was extended and amended. From the first the legislation must have been all but abortive, and the reasons are set forth in an account given by that shrewd contemporary writer, Wm. Harrison. In his description of Britain, he says, ‘‘ Now to speake generallie of our common highwaies through the English part of the Le (for of the rest I can saie nothing) you shall understand that in the claie or cledgie soile they are often verie deepe and troublesome in the winter halfe. Wherfore by authoritie of Parlement an order is taken for their yearlie amendment, whereby all sorts of the common people doo imploie their travell (i.e., work) for six daies in summer upon the same. And albeit that the intent of the statute is verie profitable for the reparations of the decaied places, yet the rich doo so cancell their portions, and the poor so loiter in their labours, that of all the six, scarcelie two good daies worke are well performed and accomplished in a parish on these so necessarie affaires. Besides this, such as have land lieing upon the sides of the waies, doo utterlie neglect to dich and scowre their draines and watercourses, for better avoidance of the winter waters, whereby the streets doo grow to be much more gulled than before, and thereby very noisome for such as travell by the same. Sometimes also, and that verie often, these daies works are not imploied upon those waies that lead from market to market, but each surveior amendeth such by-plots and lanes as seeme best for his owne commoditie, and more easie passage unto his fields and pastures.’’ Then he holds —_ a ae 27 forth against landlords who charge excessive prices for the stones required to mend the roads, and he goes on to speak of the ‘‘dailie incroching of the covetous upon the highwaies. Whereas some streets within these five and twentie yeares have beene in most places fiftie foot broad according to the law, whereby the traveller might either escape the theefe, or shift the mier, or passe by the loaden cart without danger of himselfe and his horse ; now they are brought unto twelve or twentie or six and twenty at the most, which is another cause also whereby the waies be the worse, and manie an honest man encombred in his journeie. But what speake I of these things whereof I doo not thinke to heare a just redresse, because the error is so common and the benefit thereby so sweete and profitable to manie, by such houses and cotages as are raised upon the same.” I must call your attention for a moment to one other statute of great importance, the Statute 12, Car. IL., c. 85, which first established the General Post Office and provided for the appoint- ment of a Postmaster-General. The dangers and inconveniences of private posts had resulted in the establishment of several public post offices, and now these had to give way to a general public post, and a monopoly which grew into a prolific source of royal revenue. What concerns us more particularly, however, in this statute, is its bearing upon the great roads of the country and on travelling. Coaches had only recently been introduced, and this method of travelling was still above the reach of most wayfarers. For the most part the gentry rode on horseback, or in their own carriages drawn by four horses or more ; the poor in the straw of the stage waggon which was the general conveyance for heavy goods; but that was only on the best highways; and on the byroads, and generally throughout the country north of York and west of Exeter, goods were carried by long trains of pack-horses, which often bore also between the baskets the traveller of humble condition. The traveller who wished to move expeditiously rode post. The Statute of Charles II. placed the provision of post horses in the hands of the Postmaster-General or his deputies, and fresh saddle horses and guides were to be procured at convenient distances along the great lines of road. The statute imposed on the new post office the duty of providing these post-horses, and the still more important duty of establishing postal stations on certain great lines of road which are specified. The two lines which nearly concern us were the great north-west and the great north-east roads. I need not describe them, for if you take the routes of the London and North-Western and the Great Northern Railways, you have them at once; and these two great roads, vastly im- proved, are at this day the finest in the country. 28 In applying this general account to local circumstances, first let me refer to the evidences which we have at hand of our con- nection in these Tudor and Stuart days with the world outside our own narrow valleys. In the Shuttleworth accounts, and in the journal kept by Nicholas Assheton, we have references to journeys made from Gawthorpe and from Downham to the metropolis and other parts of England, and of the routes which were taken. From July, 1608, to May, 1609, Colonel Richard Shuttleworth and his family were residents of London or of Islington, and the entries in the accounts of the expenses of the journey, and the description of the route are interesting. Bear in mind that the value of money then was about ten times its present value : Spent at Barnett in bread and beare, 2s.; to the man which did helpe the caroche down Chouche hill, 6d.; Stonie Stratford, for supp and breakfast, 30s.; given in the house there, 2s. 6d.; to the poore there, 1s. ; to the musick there, 4s. 4d.; spent at Daintry for our dinners, 10s. 4d.; to the tapster there, 6d.; Coventry, for supp and breakfast, 21s.; given in the house, 3s.; to the poore, 10d. ; for ale, 4d.; to the gardeners, 3s. 4d.; Litchfield, for supp and breakfast, 30s.; howse, 3s.; poore, 12d.; to the poore by the waye, 3d. ; and so on, through Stone, Trent, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Holmes Chapel (in Cheshire), Budworth, Warrington, Brindle, and Blackburn, whence the route was through Altham to Gawthorpe. They had a caroche or coach which needed frequent repairs, significant of the state of even the great roads, and some of the party rode on horseback, for there are charges for mending Mr. Ughtred’s saddle, and for a pillow for the male pillion. On that occasion the route was by the north-west road and by Blackburn. On other occasions the north-east road was taken. That journey lay through Burnley, the Long Causeway, Lud- denden, Halifax, and so on to the great road at Doncaster. There are frequent entries of journeys of men on horseback or with carts to Halifax and to York, to bring the goods which came by this route from London. Now, I must try to trace the roads about Burnley as they existed in the Tudor and Stuart days, and by doing so I practically deal with them as they were at a later period, and immediately before the great turnpike revolution. There is a dearth of good maps of Lancashire showing the main roads. The beautiful county maps of Saxton (1579) and Speed (1608-10), are of the utmost interest to us, but they unfortunately do not give the roads. I have obtained three maps of the latter half of the 18th century, and the information they give may be read retrospectively, but they obviously omit important roads which we know were principal lines of communication at a much earlier period. But through the kindness of Mr. Storey and Mr. Riley, | | i 29 I have obtained the loan of tracings from a series of plans con- stituting a survey of the estates of Richard ‘Townley, in 1661, made by James Hamilton. Comparing the roads shown on these plans with the turnpike roads of to-day, we see that in the main there is a close corre- spondence, the turnpike trustees having afterwards in most eases followed the old roads. If you add to the comparison the ordnance maps, you will see that those tortuous narrow ways which are shown by the ordnance maps to still run side by side in so many places with new turnpikes, are the old roads shown in these maps of 1661. Take the road to Manchester. Our Townley plans and the ordnance maps, show that from Burnley the principal road to Manchester went by Govdham Hill, Sandy Gate, Coal Clough Lane, Cog Lane, Wholaw, and Nutshaw to Dunnockshaw, and so through Goodshaw Fold and Rawtenstall to Edenfield. The present Manchester Road, as we all know, was entirely new for a considerable way out of Burnley, and even from Wholaw and Nutshaw the old road runs parallel with the new one. At Wholaw and Nutshaw the line of the old road went ‘as can still be seen) towards Hameldon, and a road from this Manchester Road left it at Bridgely Bank and went on to Hameldon, where it was joined by the road from Padiham and Hapton, and went over the hill to Haslingden, being in its course a part of the terrible road from Clitheroe to Haslingden, to which I shall have to refer. The Blackburn road to Burnley, Colne, and Yorkshire, lay through Rishton and Clayton-le-Moors to Altham, and crossing the river there it came by Padiham to Burnley, following generally the line of the present road, but from Burnley to Colne it was widely different. The road followed Hebrew Road and Burnley Lane Head where it divided into two roads, one of which went through Marsden Chapel, Reedyford, Barrowford, and Blackko to Gisburn, and the other went eastward by Haggate and Castorcliffe down to Colne Waterside. We must also refer to the road which ran in those days by Sandygate, Barracks Road, Gannow, and Rose Grove, to Bentley Wood Green, whence one branch, skirting the Green on the south side, went up to Hapton, and the other on the north side of the Green joined the road over Stanmore Common down to Padiham. Accrington Road was not made until long afterwards. Our Towneley plans also show the old roads to Halifax. From Burnley Town End the road is shown up Gunsmith Lane to Fulledge Lane End, whence the roads branched as now, the one by Brunshaw, Mereclough, and Heptonstall to Halifax, and the other by Fulledge, following the line of the present road as far as Nanheys, the bottom of Huffling Lane; but from this point the old road has gone in the bottom closely past the houses now 30 occupied by Mr. Folds and Mr. Holroyd, then swerving to the right from the present road through the wood at the back of Brooklands and Wood Nook to Causeway End. In that wood are still traces of the old road. From Causeway End it went through the Towneley Wilderness, where some portions of a paved road may yet be seen, and in the Wilderness one branch went over the real Boggart Brig, which is several yards down the stream from what is now known as Boggart Brig, and by Holehouse Farm to Cliviger Mill and Dineley, and the other went in front of the hall down to the river, across the river and up the brow, nearly in a line with the present footpath to Cliviger Laith, and so into the Long Causeway. I take it that this is the meaning of the words Causeway End, and that this road through Towneley has been an important link in the local system. Speaking of these routes to Halifax, it may not be uninterest- ing to reproduce a picture which Dr. Whitaker draws of the journeys of the De Lacies and the Royal House of Lancaster from their Yorkshire seats through Burnley to Lancaster. The route was by the Long Causeway :— “This bleak and comfortless road which till the last thirty-five years (he is speaking in 1801) continued to be one of the principal passes between the two counties, was the line which the Lacies and Plantagenets were condemned to pursue in their progresses from Pontefract to Clitheroe, and the latter from thence to Lancaster. What trains of sumpter-horses must upon these occasions have been seen traversing these boggy wastes, impassable at that time for carriages, and when the great lords, with many residences, had furniture only for one. Such a progress, which would scarcely be undertaken but in summer, must have been the work of three days at least over a line of about 90 miles, which we may imagine to have beer thus distributed ; one easy stage would conduct them to their Manor of Rothwell, whence many of their charters are dated. There, for want of accommodation beyond, they must have rested the first night. From Rothwell another stage would conduct them to their Manor of Bradford, thence probably over the moors to Luddenden ; thence to the eastern extremity of the Long Causeway, by the cross still called Duke’s Cross, in Cliviger, and thence after a long descent to their Manor of Ightenhill. At the end of a short but uneasy stage, on the third the Castle of Clitheroe would await them ; and thence after two weary stages more by the Trough of Bowland, they would repose themselves at Lancaster, consoled at least by the reflection that no other English subject could sustain an equal degree of fatigue in traversing his own estates.” I should like also to mention the old mountain road from Clitheroe. A road comes to Haslingden in almost a direct line, it is the road by Pendleton, the Nick of Pendle, Simonstone, Altham, Huncoat, and over the shoulder of Hameldon to Haslingden. Another branch passes through Padiham and Hapton, and right over Hameldon, where it is joined by the road from Burnley by Nutshaw into the same road to Haslingden. If oe el 31 Mr. Watkin is right in saying that the name Windy Harbour isa sure sign of a Roman road, we may probably have in this an old Roman road, for on the shoulder of Hameldon we have a place on this road marked Windy Harbour in the ordnance map ; anyhow, like a true Roman road, it goes straight over hill and dale with no attempt to seek the easier gradients of the valleys. John Wesley went as near to a commination of this road in 1788, as could be expected from such a worthy divine, denouncing it as one of the worst he had ever travelled. At a time when the best roads in England were the subject of loud and frequent complaints of travellers from the great towns to the metropolis, we can readily understand that the bye-ways of Lancashire must have been bad almost beyond description, and as such we find them described in the accounts of antiquaries, such as Thoresby and Young. But in the middle of the 18th century, a great movement caused by the development of trade led to that extensive system of turnpiking which was as great a revolution in its day as the railways of later times. Lancashire was rather behind the times. The first Turnpike Act was passed in the twelfth year of Charles the Second, being an Act for turnpiking a portion of the great north road in the eastern counties. In the early part of the 18th century, several Acts were passed with reference to the southern roads. Between 1750 and 1800 the movement was general throughout Lancashire and the West Riding. In 1754, the Act for the Blackburn and Adding- ham Road through Padiham, Burnley, and Colne, was obtained, and as part of this road our present Colne Road was made, cross- ing the old road at Duke Bar. In the same year the Act for the Rochdale and Burnley Road through Bacup was passed. In 1759 we have the Halifax and Burnley Act for the road through Todmorden, Holme, Cliviger, and by the Long Causeway and Brunshaw to Burnley. In 1795, we have the Burnley and Edenfield Act, which brought into existence the present Man- chester Road. In 1817 the Halifax trustees obtained an Act whereby a diversion and a piece of new road were made from near Holmes Chapel by Walk Mill to the Rochdale and Burnley road above Boggart Brig, so creating the line of communication by Burnley Wood to Todmorden, which practically superseded the earlier road by Brunshaw. And, lastly, the Blackburn and Addingham trustees obtained in 1827 an Act for making the new road from Accrington through Huncoat and Hapton to Burnley. Let me pause here for a moment to mention a fact which must have even so soon been generally forgotten. . From the Angel Inn the new Accrington road had a proposed branch along Sandygate, which it left at the Hole-in-the-Wall, and thence by Nelson House, above Healey Wood Road, on the higher side of 32 Hollingreave House to the Rochdale and Burnley road at Nanheys, then occupied by Mr. Lovat, the well-known surveyor. There is a plan for this road, and also a larger plan, which was made by Mr. Holden, the surveyor, and which shows the route more clearly. Unfortunately the road was never made, I suppose for want ot funds, and our town to this day is short of necessary means of communication in that quarter. This movement for the turnpiking of our roads was the necessary result of the great expansion of trade which could no longer brook the inconvenience caused by the ruinous condition of the roads, and their imperfection as means of communication. The preamble to the first Halifax and Burnley Act recites that the highways from Halifax, by Todmorden to Burnley, are in many parts thereof extremely rough and incommodious, and in many other parts thereof not only ruinous and dangerous to travellers, but by reason of the height and steepness of many hills, over which the same were then carried, almost impassable for wheel carriages ; and, besides, were in general so narrow that two wheel carriages could not safely pass by each other. Yet by deviating in some places from the common road, the height and steepness of the hills might be avoided, and by enlarging and widening the said roads in other places, a safe, easy and com- modious road might be made, and thereby a much more easy, extensive, and advantageous communication might be effected through that populous and trading country, which in the present condition of the said roads was in many parts thereof scarce accessible. I have been able to obtain several of the Minute Books of the trustees of our local turnpikes. One interest which they have for us is the names of the men who directed these new under- takings. Mr. Peregrine Towneley took a leading part in the movement, and so did his son, and the Hargreaves family, the Halsteads, and Mr. Webster Fishwick, Mr. Joseph Massey (head of the firm of Joseph Massey & Sons, woollen spinners.) The minutes are largely records of financial embarrassment. In order to raise the necessary means money was subscribed upon security of the tolls, and there was constant difficulty in raismg funds. In 1811, the Blackburn trustees were engaged upon a diversion of the road from Colne to Walsis Hall, and a minute of 29th August, 1811, records the distress which was caused by want of funds to pay the contractor, and declares that it is the duty of the trustees collectively, as well as individually, to exert every means in their power to relieve the distresses of these people, and to fulfil the engagements which had been entered into with them. Then the meeting is adjourned, and so is the next, for they could not get a quorum. ne et lal 33 Financially these roads were certainly unsuccessful. From time to time returns were made to Parliament in order that it might be ascertained when the roads could be disturnpiked. It may not be uninteresting if I quote the figures which are given in 1846 and in 1869, with respect to the debts and income of some of our local roads : 1846. 1869. Income. Debt. Income. Debt. £ £ £ £ Blackburn and Accrington.. 5157 32414 aboc 3034 Burnley and Edenfield ....) 2077 6980 1866 2180 Rochdale and Burnley .... 4255 19477 4486 7729 The year 1846 was just before the extension to these parts of the railway system, which had such a direct effect upon the tolls. Comparing 1846 and 1869, we see that the effect of the railway system in diverting traffic from the roads on the one hand, is almost exactly neutralised by the vast expansion of trade on the other, and the toll income is practically the same in 1869 as in 1846. In the extension of the turnpike roads of Lancashire, a notable person played a considerable part, I mean Blind Jack, of Knaresborough. He became blind when he was four years old, but that deprivation does not seem to have affected very seriously his wonderful energy. He was accustomed to act the part of a guide in the country about Knaresborough, and he attained a considerable reputation as a road-maker. He took a contract on the Gisburn and Long Preston Road. He had recently been employed on the roads about Bury and Haslingden. The turnpike system would have been comparatively useless had there not been side by side with the movement, or perhaps caused by it, a vast improvement in the methods of road-making. The ways and doings of the old parish surveyors ‘“chosen,’’ to use the word of the statute, for any reason rather than practical ability, are familiar to us in the description to which I have alluded. From 1800 to 1818, Select Committees of the House of Commons were occupied with an enquiry into the great Holyhead Road of Telford, and the new methods introduced by Jas. Loudon Me.Adam. Evidence was given by drivers of mail coaches of the great improvements effected by Mr. Mc.Adam, and ultimately a public reward was made to him. Mr. Mc.Adam’s 34 method involved a departure from the bad old practice of forming the road by excavating until the rock was reached, and then spreading on the rock loose earth and soft materials with a huge crown in the middle of the road. He told the committee that he would as soon build a road on a bog as not. And his principal improvement was in the use of the materials. He pointed out that angular fragments of hard materials, such as limestone, sufficiently reduced in size will coalesce or bind without other admixture into a compacted mass of stone, nearly impenetrable by water, which being laid almost flat so as to allow of carriages passing freely upon all parts of the road will wear evenly throughout, not exhibiting the appearance of ruts or other inequalities. The adoption of this idea, coupled with the widening and levelling of the old roads, wrought a change which was beneficent indeed. Unfortunately, however, Mr. Mc.Adam’s name has often since then been taken in vain, and many a road has been said to be macadamized which Mc.Adam would have denounced with all his north country directness. Some of our own local turnpikes are even now made with such materials and in such a manner that it isa slander on Mc.Adam’s name to call them macamadized roads. The general disturnpiking of the roads about the year 1870, raised important questions. It was felt that to throw upon the rural townships the cost of the maintenance of trunk roads used and broken up by the through traffic between great towns would be an injustice, and would, besides, result probably in ruin to the roads themselves. Hence the Highways Act of 1878 was passed, which provided that roads disturnpiked after 1870, should be called main roads, and one-half the cost of repairs was to be borne by the county and one-half by the local highway authority. Parliament also made a grant of one-fourth to the highway authority annually. This Act should have greatly relieved us in Burnley from the cost of the repairs of our main thoroughfares, all of which were parts of the old turnpike roads ; but we never got the full benefit of the Act until it was almost too late, and we have just now some interesting questions at issue with the Administrative County of Lancaster and the County Boroughs with respect to this matter. I have referred once or twice to old methods of travelling. For the purposes of my paper, I have made enquiries from old people in Burnley as to the ways of travelling in their young days and in the days of their fathers, but the information is not very definite. Before the great improvement of the roads, the pack-horse must have been the principal means of conveyance of goods, and it can still be recollected that trains of pack-horses carried to Halifax by the Long Causeway the woollen purchases of Messrs. Massey & Co., of Sandy Gate, and the cotton goods T, 35 for the Manchester market. Mr. Waddington tells me on the authority of the late Jas. Sagar, the carrier, that Mr. Sagar’s grandfather could remember the first cart coming over Hameldon. It had an axle revolving with the wheels. The last relic of these useful and patient beasts was the ‘lime galls,”’ which most of us can remember. Fifteen horses would form a train and required two men. By taking coal and other goods to Clitheroe and bringing back lime for the moorland farms, which could not be reached by the carts, such as the farms on the side of Hambledon, they could earn one shilling a horse a day, and that was thought good pay. The breed must now be extinct. But in later times, and within the memory of living persons, two waggons would earry the productions of Burnley on a Monday to the Manchester market for the Tuesday. The principal carriers of this district were at Colne. The last of the old Colne and Manchester carriers was Moses Preston, who died in 1861. He left property at Laneshaw Bridge, the proceeds of the trade, which is still known as Carriers Row. The new roads wonderfully developed the coach system. In Baines’s Directory of 1824, a list is given of the coaches from Burnley. Old John Hartley. the old mail gig driver, tells me that the best turn-outs were those of Mr. Chadwick, of Bury, the grand- father of Mr. Tom Edmondson. He had splendid horses which ran between Colne, Bury, and Manchester. They changed horses at Bury. Many of our old people are fond yet of talking of the break-neck races down Manchester Road between the coach of ‘‘ Dick Rothwell,’’ the Red Rover, and the Catherine and other coaches of rival proprietors. The subject of travelling in the olden times would furnish a paper in itself which would be of the utmost interest to this club, and I hope someone will take itup. Ihave endeavoured to make a small contribution towards the information which it is the special function of such a club as ours to acquire and record. *“AN AGE OF TERRIBLE REPTILES.” By R. LAW, F.G.S., of Halifax. February 10th, 1891. The Lecturer pointed out that among the fauna of the earth perhaps none had a more complete, interesting and remarkable history than those of Reptiles. It could be proved that reptiles, 36 like other types of animals, had had their beginning, and in the far removed geological time had reached their climax of abundance and development, and was slowly, but surely, approaching their goal of extinction when reptile life would be no more on earth. During the four oldest geological periods, viz :—Archeen, Cambrian, Silurian and Devonian, there is no proof that reptiles had yet lived on the earth, but their appearance was foreshadowed during the last of these periods by some of the fishes having reptilian characters. It would seem that during the next succeeding period, the carboniferous, low forms of reptiles began their existence, and as time went on, higher and higher forms were introduced which culminated during the Jurassic period in what is known to Geologists as the ‘* Age of Terrible Reptiles.’ During that period and, in fact, the whole of the Mesozoic reptiles appear to have predominated to such an extent that they may be looked upon as the masters of the world, other vertebrated forms having but a small chance in the struggle for existence which then prevailed. So many skeletons have been found and of such varied forms in rocks belonging to this period as to lead Geologists to believe that reptiles filled the places now occupied by whales, birds and mammals. Some of these animals as the Ichthyosaurus, Plesiosaurus, Plisaurus, were of tremendous size; they were provided with swimming paddles and seem to have swarmed in every sea. Others were constructed on the same general plan as birds and had membraneous wings like bats; thus they were adapted for flight, and could soar in the air. While yet another kind were made after the plan of mammals ; had four legs, were two or three times larger than any elephant and lived on the dry land. Among the best known of the flying reptiles is one termed the Pterodactylus, so called on account of its long finger to which its wings were attached. The largest of these had an expanse of wing of more than 20 feet. At least seven orders of reptiles and hundreds of genera of species are known to have lived during the Mesozoic Period, which have no representative existing at the present time, all having become extinct. Of all the reptiles living at this period, perhaps the Deinosaurs were the most terrible, as well as the most gigantic. One of these known as the Megalosaurus was carnivorous and preyed on other animals. Its length is said to have been from 30 to 40 feet, and its height from 10 to 12 feet. Its teeth were about 34 inches long, and were incurved, sabre shape, and serated like a saw, thus adapted for cutting flesh. Its head was about four or five feet in length, and being savage and lithe as a tiger, it must have been amongst the most terrible of deadly animals that ever lived. The Iguanodon and Ceteosaurus were even larger than this, but were vegetable eaters, and probably docile and peaceful animals. _ aoe 37 ‘The largest of all the Deinosaurs was the Atlantisaurus lately discovered in Western America. Its length is believed to have been about 100 feet, and quite as bulky asa whale. Its thigh bone measures seven feet long ; its shoulder blade five feet, and one of its ribs 14 feet in length. A number of diagrams _ representing these reptiles were exhibited and fully described. ILLUSIONS AND DREAMS. By REV. FATHER MAHER, S.J., M.A. February 17th, 1891. The subject of ‘Dreams and Illusions’ has possessed great attraction for mankind from the very beginning. The investigation of these phenomena belongs to the science of Psychology. The questions of this science, though at a disadvantage on some grounds for treatment in a popular leciure, have at all events this much in their favour that they are, as a rule, of considerable interest, and also that they are capable of being studied by all men without the employment of any costly instruments—our own mind furnishing the laboratory, observatory, and all other requisite materials. An Illusion is an error or mistake, springing from what appears to be an immediate act of perception. It is thus distinguished from a Fallacy, which is an act of false reasoning. A Hallucination is an extreme form of Illusion. [Illusions may be divided into three great classes according to their causes. These causes lie either in the mind itself, in the bodily organism, or in the surrounding medium which connects the organism with the object perceived. The chief mental source of illusion is the imagination. Imagination plays an important part in normal perception and whatever excites it tends to render us liable to error. The chief mental states which stimulate the imagination into this over sensitive condition are expectation, desire and fear. Physiologically, the reason why vivid imagination leads to an illusory perception probably consists in the fact that the same portion of the brain is instrumental in the actual apprehension of an object and in the imaginary representation of it. A lively expectation of some event stimulates the fancy to form a vivid representation of it, and the brain being put in a state very much akin to that of real perception an illusion is the result. Listening to ghost stories before going to bed thus causes children to interpret the various objects in a darksome 88 room into hobgoblins. Similarly a strong desire of some result, such as success in a lottery, causes us by continual representation of our good luck to over estimate our chances. Fear acts in the same way. By producing a very vivid image of the calamity we are led to believe in its certain occurrence. Many apparent suicides from precipitous positions are probably due to the mind being completely upset by the vivid representation of the danger of an accident. The second chief cause of illusions is to be found in the derangement of the sense-organ or nervous system. The deceptions of colour-blindness, and of subjections, auditory and gastatory sensations are examples. Even apparent tactual sensations of temperature and pressure may have their origin in this source. An abnormal condition of the atmosphere, or of whatever medium connects the sense-organ with the perceived object may produce serious illusions. Preceptions of sight and sound are, in the main, inferences from present appearances based on past experience. Neither the eye nor the ear, for instance, can of themselves directly apprehend distance. The intensity of the sensation, and its vague or definite character as compared with former experiences, lead us to localise an object at a particular distance. A mountain seems close at hand in clear weather, and a boy obscurely apprehended in a fog appears to be a full-grown man. An unfurnished room looks much smaller than it really is, because the customary articles are not present to impress on us, the capacity of the space, similarly the sun and moon seem larger when near the horizon, owing to the intervening trees, hills, &c., causing us to realise better the greatness of the distance. Dreams have always been a subject of interest, and philosophers from the earliest times have made efforts to explain them. The most remarkable work on Dreams among ancient writers was Aristotle’s treatise on the subject. Nearly all of us have had experience of dreams. A dream is an illusion during sleep in which the acts of the imagination are taken for reality. During sleep the activity of the external senses falls into abeyance, volitional control over the course of thought ceases; the power of reflexion and comparison is suspended ;_ and the fancy of the dreamer moves along automatically under the guidance of associa- tion. Consideration of these circumstances helps to partially account for the peculiar features of the dream. Its chief charac- teristics are its seeming reality, its incoherence and extravagance, its possession of a certain coherence amid this inconsistency, and the exaggeration of actual impresions. The apparent reality of the dream is in great part a consequence of the cessation of the action of the external senses. The images 39 of the fancy during sleep are exempt from the connection of the real perceptions of waking life, and consequently possess greater power. The inconsistency of the dream is due to its course being left entirely to the guidance of portentous associations, modified by the interference of accidental impressions at the moment. The absence of control over our thoughts disables us from reflecting on the ideas which spontaneously arise, and prevents us from comparing them with past experience or with each other. The coherence of the dream, in so far as it occasionally exists, probably results, in part from an orderly suecession of previously associated ideas, in part from a faint power of selection exerted at the time. The exaggeration of real impressions is accounted for by the fact that while the great majority of external impressions are excluded, those which find entrance are thereby placed in a peculiarly favourable position. They are in novel isolation from their usual surroundings ; their nature is vaguely apprehended ; and they cannot be confronted with other experiences. Accordingly they usurp the whole available resources of consciousness and assume an utterly inordinate importance. In this way a slight sensation of cold or pressure may give rise to the illusion that we are lost in a snowstorm or crushed under a falling house. As regards the duration of dreams, whilst some apparently very long series of events seem to be gone through in a few seconds, somnambulism, and various experiments establish the fact that some dreams last a considerable time. DE ———————— THE COTTON TRADE OF INDIA. By JAS. SMALLEY, of Acsrington. February 24th, 1891. Mr. Smalley’s paper was illustrated by a number of photographs of the principal mills in the neighbourhood of Bombay, models of the workpeople, specimens of yarn spun, &c., quoting from a speech delivered in Bombay on the mills in England and India which he said entirely represented his own opinions), he pointed out that although the long hours in Indian mills was admitted it was contended that the English mill hand worked four times as hard as the Indian. Although the Indian mills ran 80 hours per week, only 10 per cent. of the workpeople worked full time, and their labour was by no means continuous. Although the 40 English mill hand had to strive hard for his daily bread, the Indian could earn twice or three times as much as he would require for his daily bread. An idea of the extent of the Indian trade might be gathered from the fact that in 1890 there were in{Bombay 70 mills, with 1,895,000 spindles, and employing 59,000 workpeople. The exports from Bombay alone, which in 1875 amounted to 2,789,000 lbs., last year came to the very large total of 140,000,000 Ibs., the trade being principally with China and/Japan. Mr. J. Rawlinson, J.P., said he had listened with very great attention to the objection that Mr. Smalley was apparently prepared to make against the English factory law being applied to native labour in India. If the comparatively opulent and well-to-do operative of this country required the protection of the law as against his employer, the poor down-trodden native of India must require that protection in a much greater degree. Of course the thing was glossed over by Mr. Smalley, but to state that the Indian labourer could better work 80 hours in an ener- vating climate like that of India than the English operative could work his 56 hours was to state an absurdity. The increase in the Indian cotton trade was certainly phenomenal, but the fact that machinery was now made with such perfection that the work was almost automatic was one great cause of development. As to the large development of the exports of yarn to China and Japan, his own impression was that the reasons could be largely found in the nearness of the Indian markets to the Chinese and Japanese markets, the cheap labour, the suitability of the yarn they produced for those markets, and the enterprise of English machine makers. He was not one of those who was greatly alarmed about the increase of the cotton trade in India. It was a thing which we as a nation had every reason to look upon with satisfaction. So long as the competition was carried on under fair and equal conditions we ought to regard it with satisfaction rather than with dismay. Mr. Smalley distinctly objected to the term ‘‘ down trodden ”’ as applied to the Indian, and said that their system of civilisation was more elaborate than ours. Alderman Greenwood was inclined to take a somewhat gloomy view of the future prospects of the cotton trade in England, bearing in mind the enormous expansion of the Indian trade, and the fact that our own exports of cotton cloth and yarn were stationary, if not declining. They were driving us out of the market, and there seemed no limit to the expansion of their Indian trade. 41 SOME REMARKABLE FACTS. By J. L. KERR, M.D., C.M., F.R.S., (Edinburgh). March 8rd, 1891. In this paper the writer endeavoured to make a continuous story, which by taking no notice of the limits of time and space should illustrate how a fish became an amphibian. It was shown how the swimming bladder of a fish became a modified lung, in the mud fishes. Then taking the history of the development of a frog, it was shown how the egg hatched into a true fish, the tadpole, which breathed by gills, and which would die by suffocation, out of the water ; following on, the tadpole developed legs, lost its gills, and became an air breathing amphibian. The archeopterix, was next described, how it was a reptile in some points, whilst at the same time, it was a bird, because it had true feathers. The pterodactyl, which was a bird in many of its character- istics, was described as closely allied to the bats, which are the lowest of the mammals. It was shown how the mammals must have had a common ancestor, because they all had only seven vertebrae in the neck; because they all had, or their ancestors all had, five toes, and how all their bones and muscles, blood vessels and nerves are homologous. The writer then left it to be inferred that if the living creatures were not evolved one from the other, from lower to higher types, that at least there was a gradual upward improvement in type all along the line of animal existence, and that they were not created all at one time. It seemed to the writer no less wonderful and no derogation to the power of the Creator, that there should be a gradual evolution, rather than one creation of all the types of animals at one time. COLERIDGE’S ‘‘ANCIENT MARINER.” By Rev. J. MARSHALL MATHER. March 10th, 1891. Mr. Mather observed at the outset that the most prominent characteristic of Coleridge’s poetry, was its exquisite and original melody of versification. The very sound charmed the ear and the soul, and in that respect he considered that Coleridge 42 excelled all the poets. The power of his poetry lay rather in the region of the senses than because of its high imagination. In the description of preternatural fear, or dread of some undefined evil, he was unapproached and unapproachable. That was seen in the “Ancient Mariner,’ in which loveliness and terror alternated, while the mind was kept entranced. The poem was then analysed and its teaching pointed out. There was depicted in it, in masterly style, the selfishness and lovelessness of the life, when home influences were cast aside, and religious impulses were absent. The wreck symbolized a ruined life, in which the man was morally dead to nobleness, truth, and purity. He wallowed, as it were, in the deeps of moral degradation, and there was the dread desolation, in which the man was shewn as shorn of all his attributesand companionships. Then the spring of love gushed from his heart, and his appreciation of what was beautiful was meant to teach that no man was hopelessly bad who had an eye for beauty and a heart for admiration. The story of his restoration was next sketched, how prayer was the start on his new voyage, and how sleep, the ‘ baptism of oblivion,” prefaced his return. The part which Nature played was lastly dealt with. Nature had a voice of healing for him as well as the preached word, and in this connection Mr. Mather quoted the well known words of the poem :— ‘He prayeth best, who loveth best All things, both great and small.” RAMBLES IN NORMANDY WITH A CAMERA. By EDWARD W. MELLOR. March 17th, 1891. (Illustrated by Lantern.) Normandy is a French province more intimately connected with English History than any other part of the Huropean continent. From it our language and literature is largely derived, and it affords much of deep interest to the artist, the architect, the antiquary, and the historian. The lecturer spoke of his visit to three of the Departments :—Seine Inférieure, lying to the north of the River Seine ; Calvados, to the south of the river ; and Manche, on the west side of Normandy. A descrip- tion of Havre was followed by impressions of Lillebonne, where once stood a castle, in the great hall of which William assembled his barons in council to concert measures for the conquest of England. It is most widely known for its traces of Roman occupation. In the year 1812, there was excavated here the . he 43 remains of a Roman Theatre, and these remains are the best preserved, and, indeed, almost the only example of an ancient Roman Theatre in the north of Europe. To the antiquarian Lillebonne has proved a veritable gold mine. In 1870, was discovered an ancient Roman mosaic pavement wonderfully perfect. The Baron De Witte, a scholar learned in Greek and Roman antiquities, considers this mosaic to have been the pavement of a temple consecrated to Diana or Apollo. The Abbey of S. Wandrille, and the quaint, little, primitive old world town of Candelec were next described. Not far from Candelec is the Forest of Mamnlevrier, from which wild boars frequently make their way to the farms, and in a single night a whole potato field is devastated, the boar always taking a straight row. Rouen was next visited, that ancient capital of Normandy which, in its architectural triumphs of the middle ages and in its historic associations, will yield place to no other provincial city in France. Mention was made of the Church of S. Ouen, one of the few perfect and completed pure Gothic edifices in France, with its fine west front and elegant centre tower, its flying buttresses, its tall spire, its lofty clustered columns supporting beautifully pointed arches, &c., whilst the grand Cathedral and the Museum of Antiquities (where is a considerably decayed green silk bag containing the dust of the heart of our King Richard Coeur de Léon) claimed notice. An old tower in the city reminds the tourist of the unhappy Maid of Orleans. «We English people cannot help feeling some sense of shame as we aze upon this tower, for when Joan of Are fell into the hands of the English, it was in this tower that she was imprisoned and here she was put to the torture.” Leaving Rouen, the quaint old town of Lisieux is reached. It is essentially a town of curious old houses, the quaint and irregular gables of which project over the streets. ‘Through the city flows the river Touques, in which the Lisieux women do their laundry work. Although, perhaps, a little strange to English eyes, it is a characteristic French scene. The projecting shed-roof serves as a protection from the weather: the linen is soaped, beaten with a broad flat piece of wood called a ‘ carosse,”’ and rinsed in the running stream. Hach woman brings her own soap, carosse, and sort of half box in which she kneels while leaning over the river and so keeps her skirts dry. The French seem to have a great idea of the washing being done in running water, and not everything all in the same tub.’ We now journey to Falaise, the birthplace of William the Conqueror, and to Caen where he is buried. In a castle in Caen, William, in the year i061, ordered a bell to be rung for prayer every evening, at the sound of which all people were to retire into their houses and close the doors. This is considered a proof that he established the curfew 44 in Normandy before he introduced it into England. Outside Caen is the well-preserved Gothic abbey building known as the Abbaye d’Ardennes, whence we proceed to Bayeux. Its quaintness may be understood from the manner of street lighting. From the top of a tall poll on each side of the street is slung a wire cord from which is suspended an oil lamp, and similar oil lamps are suspended at regular intervals. The streets of London, Manchester, and our large towns, used to be lighted in this manner in former times. The good people of Bayeux hold in great reverence all things appertaining to Holy Mother Church. Here we see ecclesiastical processions which have become quite obsolete in Paris and the large busy towns. On the occasion of the Féte Dieu, the devout townspeople stretch long pieces of white calico or muslin decked with flowers on each side of the streets, which are then strewn with leaves or ferns. Here and there in convenient positions is erected an altar or reposoir, as it is termed. These reposoirs or street altars, are profusely decorated with flowers, moss, foliage, candles and ecclesiastical ornaments. The procession arrives. The host, carried in a golden vessel by a priest in gorgeous robes, under a magnificent scarlet and gold canopy, and surrounded by acolytes swinging censers of incense, is deposited on the altar, a prayer is chanted, and the chief priest pronounces a benediction with much swinging of incense and scattering of holy water upon the bare- headed kneeling people in the street. In the Cathedral of Bayeux, the famous Bayeux tapestry was formerly kept. This ancient tapestry is, however, a document of such important historical evidence, that it is now carefully preserved in the Museum. ‘The tapestry is a strip of coarse linen 20in. broad and 212ft. long, just exactly the width of the nave of the Cathedral across which the tapestry used formerly to be exhibited. It consists of 58 subjects or pictures representing the history of the Norman conquest from the death of Kdward the Confessor and Harold’s coronation, to the battle of Hastings and Harold’s death. It is not definitely known by whom the tapestry was designed and embroidered. Napoleon Bonaparte caused it to be exhibited in the theatres of the French towns with a view of inciting the people to another conquest of England, and so emulate their deeds of ancient times. The battle of Waterloo, however, put a stop to these proceedings. The lecturer concluded by an account of Mont 8. Michel, the most westerly point of the Norman coast. * 45 WORDSWORTH’S ‘“ WHITE DOE OF RYLSTONE.” (Illustrated by Lantern.) By J. C. BRUMWELL, M.D., J.P. March 24th, 1891. After describing some of the leading characteristics of the poetry of Wordsworth, Dr. Brumwell gave two special reasons for his selection of the subject, one being that Wordsworth himself considered it to be the finest piece of poetry he ever wrote, and the other being that the chief part of the poem is identified with scenery within a few miles of Burnley. A triangle with its base between Skipton and Bolton Abbey, and its apex three or four miles above the village of Rylstone, takes in the chief points of interest in the poem. As he read Spenser’s tale of ‘‘ Una and Her Lamb’”’ to his wife, at a time when they were in great trouble through the death of a darling child and through the ili-reception of his writings, it came into the poet’s mind that he might write on a similar theme. Seeking for a suitable subject, he hit upon the story of ‘‘ The White Doe of Rylstone,”’ in Dr. Whittaker’s ‘ History of Craven,’”’ and he determined to make the story the basis of his poem. Having indicated the use of photography in the illustration of descriptive poetry, Dr. Brumwell described graphically and photographically the poet’s personal appearance, and the house in which he resided, Rydal Mount, while he composed it, a ‘trellised shed with clustering roses gay,” and then he went on to deal with and illustrate the poem itself. Wordsworth commences by taking the reader at once to “ Bolton’s mouldering Priory,’’ and he cannot but observe how skilfully the poet introduces the story of the poem, stating that his object is to show that deep sorrow, patiently endured, may be lightened by the affection of what he calls ‘the inferior kinds.’”’ He has therefore to introduce to suffering and desola- tion, and this he does by placing him before a beautiful building in a state of ruin, when the people are assembling for service in the ancient pile on a fine summer’s evening, for service ‘‘ in the sheltered fabric’s heart.’’ The poet then takes us nearer the river, where we can hear the singing of the people, and he gives an exquisite idea of the Sabbath calm resting on the scene, with “the river murmuring near.” We are now introduced by the poet to the ‘“‘ White Doe of Rylstone.”’ This animal was at that time the talk of the country side, because it came regularly every Sabbath day from Rylstone 46 to Bolton Abbey, and after walking round the ruins, went to the middle of the graveyard and lay down beside a newly made grave. It was the burial-place of one of the sons of Richard Norton, of Norton Hall, at Rylstone. Wordsworth lavishes a marvellous wealth of imagery in describing the beauty of this doe. ‘«« White is she as lily of June, And beauteous as the silver moon When out of sight the clouds are driven, And she is left alone in heaven.” The poet expresses his intention of following the doe to make out the mystery of its appearance among the ruins, and this gives him an opportunity of describing what he saw as she goes through the south transept, the interior of the nave to the tomb of the lady who built the abbey and the ruined choir. As the white doe wanders amongst the ruins, the poet asks :— ‘Fair Pilgrim! Harbours she a sense Of sorrow or of reverence ? Can she be grieved for choir or shrine, Crushed as if by wrath divine?” Then the doe makes its way to the grassy grave, and the service being concluded, the people, as they start for their homes, see the animal resting in the place where she is always found. Among the group is a lady of title with her boy, and she points out to him the ‘famous doe,” whose ‘ work, what- ever it be, is done.’’ As to that work, an old man gives it as his opinion that the white doe is the spirit of the lady who built the abbey as a memorial of her son who was drowned in the Wharfe at the Strid, and he thinks the spirit cannot rest because her tomb is destroyed, and that she comes to mourn over the place. An Oxford student gives his opinions, and many others are expressed ; but the poet says they are all wrong in their surmises, and he will himself explain the history of the white doe— “A tale of tears, a mortal story !” It will be observed that Wordsworth begins the story at a time when it is nearly finished, the object being to make the tale centre its interest around Bolton Abbey and its desolation. In the second canto he takes us to the village of Rylstone, a small hamlet little changed from the poet’s time. Here the story really starts, for the village is in a state of excitement, caused by crowds of armed men making their way to Rylstone Hall, to take part in a rebellion against Queen Elizabeth, to give them, the Roman Catholics, their former power. The intention was to march to London, Roger Norton, a bold and headstrong man, taking part in it, and it was styled “‘ The Pilgrimage of Grace.” Norton had several sons and one daughter, the daughter and the youngest son being Protestants. Much against her will, Emily has been compelled by her father to work a banner to be carried at the head of the army, and she had urged her father not to 47 join the rebellion ; but her prayers and those of the younger son were unheeded, and Norton and his elder sons join the forces. The younger son, however, delays, and after a pathetic conver- sation with his sister on the destined doom of their race, he points to the white doe, a pet of the household, saying that she would return to her native woods. Then he resolves to follow the army at a distance, and strive to be of use to his father and brothers, and so ‘* He ended,—or she heard no more ; And down the valley then pursued, Alone, the armed multitude.” The scene now shifts to Brancepeth Castle, in the County of Durham, the starting place of the combined forces, and upon Norton arriving with his men and his eight sons, the banner is unfurled and uplifted. It was a proud day for Roger Norton. Fixing his eyes upon the Duke of Northumberland, he said the general wish was that the duke should be King of England, and the ‘ Pilgrimage of Grace’ began by a march to Durham, where the clergy appointed by Elizabeth were driven out of the cathedral, and the march was continued southward. During this time Francis, Norton’s youngest son, had been carefully watching his father’s movements from a distance. Where there was a rising piece of ground, he ‘* Watched the banner from afar, As shepherds watch a lonely star.” But the Government, having heard of the ‘‘ Army of Grace,” the forces are sent from the south to meet it, and this coming to the ears of the leaders, it was determined to retreat northwards, as they had not met with the support they expected. Roger Norton eloquently protested against the movement back again, but he was obliged to submit. Then we have a description of the sorrow and anxiety of Emily, as she sits under a hawthorn tree, with the white doe for her companion. Meanwhile Francis, following the retreating army. offers his services to his father in the day of misfortune, but being rejected, he determines still “« His best endeavours to renew, Should e’er a kindlier time ensue.” Leaving Roger Norton and his sons encamped before Barnard Castle, the poet takes us once more to Rylstone, and describes the hushed stillness of the place, and the description is remark- able for the carefulness with which he has reconstructed Rylstone Hall and gardens from the ruins existing in his day, and especially the latter, which he describes as a spacious one— “For pleasure made, a goodly spot, With lawns and beds of flowers, and shades Of tréllis-work in long arcades, Converging walks, and fountairs gay, And terraces in trim array.” 48 Here he describes Emily as seated in the garden, so sad that she does not even notice the white doe, which has come to her side. But a ray of comfort comes to the heart of the sufferer by the fragrance of the flowers around her. The remembrance of her dear mother’s love touches the spring of comfort, and she utters a touching prayer for the safety of Francis. Then in her agony she determines to go to entreat her father to come home, but she remembers her promise to her brother and remains. An old servant of the family, seeing her distress, offers to go for intelligence, and he returns to say that the assault upon Barnard Castle has failed, that the army is scattered, and that her father and her brothers are prisoners of war. Sad issue, for ‘‘ of that rash levy nought remained.” We are then taken by the poet to a tower belonging to the Nortons on the top of Rylstone Fell, not far from Rylstone Hall, which still remains a landmark for a considerable distance in all directions, a place not easy of access, for it is, as the poet said, ‘« Bleak and bare, and seldom free As Pendle Hill or Pennygent From wind, or frost, or vapours wet.”’ When the children of Roger Norton were young, this was their place of play, and here they practised games and archery— ‘“* But now, his child, with anguish pale, Upon the height walks to and fro ; Tis well that she hath heard the tale, Received the bitterness of woe.” In the midst of ber distress an old friend of the family tells her the particulars of the tragedy at York. He and Francis had been allowed to have an interview with her father, and the father implored Francis to carry the banner to Bolton Abbey, and place it where his father intended it should rest; but no sooner is the promise given than Norton and his sons are ordered to execution, and the banner is carried before the prisoners. Francis suddenly seized the banner from the soldiers, and in the confusion escaped carrying it with him. The old man strives to comfort her with the thought that her brother still lives, and that he might be even then at home, and so ‘to Rylstone Hall her way she took.” The sixth canto is a continuation of the effort of Francis to fulfil his father’s dying request-to carry the banner to Bolton Abbey. Pushing his way through the crowd, he gained the streets of York and stood in front of York Minster, but he had scarcely reached the open country, when his heart was saddened by the sound of the Minster bell. As he rushes along the cross roads of Yorkshire towards Bolton Abbey, he suddenly remembers the great danger he is in from carrying this banner. He has no sympathy with the banner, and shall he risk his life in thus — oS ee 49 carrying it? After debating the question in his mind, he decides that whatever be the consequences, he will carry out his father’s wish. Strengthened with this resolution he hurries on, and when overcome with fatigue, slept all the night in the open fields. Next morning he starts afresh, mounts the lofty hills which overshadow the Wharfe, and sees the tower of Bolton Abbey below. But the soldiers are close upon him. They see him in the distance carrying the banner, and at once recognise him as the son of Roger Norton, whom they have orders to take, dead or alive. They hem him round. He tries to explain that he is no traitor, but the soldiers will not listen, and he is killed. Three days afterwards the body is found, and to save Emily from needless sorrow, it was arranged to bury it in the Abbey grave- yard without telling her of his death. But she has come to the Abbey for information of her brother, and she is there as the funeral is taking place, to see the ‘ sorrow of this final truth.” In the last canto of this pathetic story, we feel that Wordsworth has succeeded in sounding the very depths of human sorrow, and in concluding he seeks to arouse our sympathy for Emily. She is seated under the shadow of a blighted oak with the white doe beside her. She is persecuted, and her hiding-place is ‘© A hut, by tufted trees defended, Where Rylstone Brook with Wharfe is blended.’’ The persecution growing keener, she has to seek shelter in a more secluded spot, so with the white doe for company, she journeys ‘“Up to another cottage, hidden 7 In the deep fork of Amerdale.” As time passed on the bitterness of her enemies became less, and she was able to visit her old home, accompanied by the white doe, and listen to the bells of Rylstone Church. Qne of those bells had been placed there by her grandfather, having upon it this motto, ‘‘ God us ayde,” and the sound of those bells lifted her thoughts to heaven and the loved ones who were there. The concluding scene of the poem is when Emily, having outlived persecution, was able to go to Bolton Abbey by moon- light accompanied by the white doe, where the poet describes her sitting on the lonely grave of her brother Francis. His task is now done, for he has shown us a wounded spirit ‘‘ by sorrow lifted towards her God.” Her aiter life was one of kindness to others, for having been a sufferer she felt for others, and followed by her white doe, she was welcomed into every home where sorrow had taken up its abode. Doubtless her body was carried to Rylstone Church and buried in the family vault beside her mother, and for many long years the peasants of Wharfedale remembered her, and told their 50 children her sad history. Wordsworth skilfully leaves us at the exact place where he first took us, even at Bolton Abbey. After the death of Emily, the white doe continued to go each Sabbath day to the Abbey to sit beside the grave of the Nortons. As the poet leaves this touching scene, he turns to take a last long look at the old Abbey, and with his mind and heart filled with the story of the ‘‘ White Doe of Rylstone, says :— «« And aye, methinks, this hoary pile, Subdued by outrage and decay, Looks down upon her with a smile, A gracious smile, that seems to say— ‘Thou, thou art not a Child of Time, But Daughter of the Eternal Prime!’ ” One lesson of this splendid poem is to make us kind to the animal creation, another is to bear the ills of life bravely, and, trusting in God, to wait patiently for their removal; but if the ‘* White Doe of Rylstone ” had no moral at all, it would be well worth carefully reading, for it is one of the finest poems in the English language. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. By J. S. BALFOUR, M.P. March 31st, 1891. In this paper Dr. Johnson was spoken of as one of the most remarkable literary men whom this conntry has produced, a man who in his own days was acknowledged as a literary dictator, a man whose writings are now, unfortunately, but little read, but who, thanks to a remarkable personality and to Boswell’s wonderful life, is still one of the most familiar figures in our literary annals. The life-struggles, the literary career, the strong opinions, and the friendships of Johnson were graphically sketched. Boswell’s life of the great writer was highly eulogised. and the paper thus closed :—We have had many greater writers in the past—we shall doubtless have many greater writers in the future—but I doubt if we ever have seen, or ever shall see, a nobler literary career or a life devoted to worthier aims. May England never lack such sons, or English literature such a follower. — 51 COMPULSORY NATIONAL INSURANCE. By JOHN WHITTAKER. Sept. 29th, 1891. We accept as a grim, but—if there is any hope for humanity— temporary, necessity the present Poor Law system, believing that whenever society becomes tolerably developed, Poor Law relief will have been replaced by other and better methods. The advocates of Compulsory National Insurance, starting from similar premises, and not content with negative criticism, are certain to obtain a patient and kindly hearing at a meeting of this nature. For thirteen years past they have been building up a scheme or schemes by which they hope to practicaily destroy pauperism. ‘The idea common to every plan is to enforce payments sufficient either of themselves or with the aid of State subsidies to insure against risks of sickness or incapacity, and to provide an annuity or pension in old age. To Canon Blackley, whose article entitled ‘‘ National Insurance, a cheap, practical, and popular means of abolishing poor rates,” appeared in the Nineteenth Century in 1878, belongs the credit of first giving definite shape to the idea. His scheme proposes, upon payment by insurers of one-half the ascertained cost, to call upon the Government to grant a pension of £18 per year, or 5s. per week, upon such insurers attaining the age of 65, and a payment in one sum of £5 to the survivors of every such insurer, in the event of death before the period when payment of pension would become due. During the year 1880, a thoughtful article from the pen of Mr. Tremenheere, appeared in the Nineteenth Century, giving uncompromising support to the idea of Compulsory National Insurance. He boldly met every difficulty, and would make all insurances self-sustaining. His scheme would provide 5s. per week in all cases of sickness, and an annuity of 5s. per week at and from 65 years of age. In addition, provision would be made for £5 being paid over at death to cover expenses of funeral. To effect this he proposes to take one-twelfth of the earnings of young persons between the ages of 14 and 21 years, or till such time as one-twelfth of the wages shall have reached the amount required—£24 5s. 4d. To arrive at this amount, Mr. Tremenheere entered into somewhat elaborate calculations. which are given in detail in Appendix Table 1. Following out a line of thought introduced by Mr. H. Dunckley, we find that the end Mr. Tremenheere has in view could be obtained by the payment of 5d. per week throughout life, commencing at 18, or 7d. per week at and from 25 years of age. 52 It may be interesting to add that the idea of insurance with the Government against sickness received strong support as far back as December, 1872, when an influentially signed memorial to that effect was laid before the Royal Commission on Friendly Societies then sitting. The Commissioners could not recommend the adoption of the memoralists’ request. A Select Committee, appointed by the House of Commons in 1885, to investigate Canon Blackley’s proposals, reported unfavourably with regard both to sickness pay and the principle of compulsion being applied to insurance. Compulsory National Insurance is already, as regards sickness, in active operation in Germany. Over 11,000,000 workpeople are enrolled, and the subscriptions paid weekly and subsidized by the State, amount to about 14 per cent. of the average earnings. The Rev. W. Moore Hde explains the method adopted: ‘‘ Hach insurer is provided with a card divided into 47 squares; each week as he makes his payment a stamp is fixed to one of the squares, as is done with our Post Office Savings Bank Cards. When the 47 are filled up he has made one year’s contribution. He is thus allowed five weeks for holidays and broken time. If out of work, he does not get his squares filled up, and when he comes to claim his pension, the number of years for which he has been a contributor is determined by the number of squares he has filled.” Germany’s action, and the suggestions of Mr. Tremenheere, demand investigation in the face of large poor rates, and the mass of pauperism huddled behind them. As a Poor Law Guardian, I cannot consistently argue against compulsion per se, and it is as logical to insist upon reasonable provision being made during working years against sickness and old age, as to enforce payments from the energetic and careful for the support of those who have been reckless, idle, dissolute or improvident ; and however charitably disposed we may be, we are driven by hard facts to acknowledge that to one or other of these causes we owe the bulk of our pauperism, and yet it is painfully true that many good men and women, after a life spent unselfishly and without reproach, find, through long-continued sickness, and the loss or weariness of friends, their last shelter within the walls of a workhouse, Nor can we refuse to reason out. the case for or against compulsory insurance on the ground of its impracticability. Again, the education grant, at a cost to the State for each child quite equal to the payments an actuary would look for to insure such child from maturity to old age in cases of sickness, and to make provision in the event of survival beyond the age of 65, takes away every argument from the parents or guardians who have accepted the same, and from the child on becoming an 53 adult who has been benefited by it, against such compulsory provision. The acceptance of paternal care and supervision by the individual from the State will—nay, must—bring in its train a strong curb upon individual liberty of action and procedure. Plainly, then, the principle of compulsory insurance must stand or fall solely upon the ground that it is or is not the best available method for bringing about the end which opponents and exponents have alike anxiously in view, the reduction and gradual extinction of pauperism, The only reliable way by which the idea of Compulsory Insurance could be tested, would be to select some single Poor Law Union, trace out its exact position, and show how it would be affected by the proposals in question. Acting upon this thought, I have obtained much valnable information from Poor Law, trades union, and other officials, bearing upon Poor Law relief, voluntary hospitals and homes, friendly society work, trade combinations, and payments therewith connected, also local savings throughout the Burnley Union. Permit me to say, in passing, that the Burnley Union offers just such a test as the advocates of Compulsory Insurance will be sure to welcome. Its population is not largely migratory, and the immense difficulties which would face and threaten to overwhelm the movement in cosmopolitan cities, such as Liverpool or Man- chester, are there practically absent. True, pauperism in the ‘Burley Union, one in 80, is lower than the average in Lancashire, one in 61, or that of the North-Western Division, one in 59—but as a counterpoise there is a greater ability to pay any demands Compulsory Insurance might make. I should gladly weleome further facts in order to bring about a more accurate analysis, though I do not anticipate that any material change would thereby take place in the conclusions arrived at. If you refer to Appendix Table 2, you will find that insurance against pauperism in old age, if confined to males, would only benefit 11:1 per cent. of those in receipt of relief. If females were to be included, thus adding enormously to the difficulties attending Compulsory Insurance, the percentage still unaffected would be 70-2. The bulk of this startling percentage consists of destitute widows and children. You will have observed that the proportion of temporarily disabled, those who would come under the provision for the sick, is 2°5 per cent., reckoning males only. It is obvious that Compulsory Insurance against sickness amongst women would be attended by almost insurmountable obstacles, and yet when females have been added, the percentage of temporarily disabled reaches but 5:6 per cent. I take it that even in Germany no attempt will be made to insure married women—in case of sickness. Supposing, for the sake of argument, that the system of Compulsory 54 National Insurance could be generally enforced, so far as provision against approaching old age is concerned, and for males only against sickness, you will find that 67-7 per cent. of our paupers would not receive any present benefit, and that many of the insured, supposing insurance against sickness to come into play at 21 years of age, would have to wait another 44 years before they could receive any return for their involuntary investment. An immediate reduction of 2°5 per cent., with a prospective further fall of 29°8 per cent. in 44 years from date, comes very far short of the promise held out by the first advocates of Compulsory insurance—‘ the abolition of poor rates.” The fact that compulsion would scarcely secure the slightest inroad into pauperism—for 44 years to come—and that, supposing similar conditions then to obtain, 67°7 per cent. of paupers would even then receive no aid from it, will be of no small service to us during this discussion. We can proceed calmly when we know that it is only one amongst many methods having for their end the diminution of destitution—an alterative, not a specific. ‘'o be perfectly fair, the direct and visible effect which Compulsory Insurance would have upon pauperism, does not represent the full benefit that would accrue from its application : five shillings per week in case of sickness, and a similar amount at and from the age of 65, double the sums usually given under the Poor Law system ; and much suffering would be avoided to sensitive people who, in spite of the cynic’s denial, frequently starve rather than lay bare their condition to those in charge of relief. A full disclosure of the percentage of population obliged at one time or another to have resource to Poor Law relief, would astonish those who act upon the belief that ‘‘ whatever is, is best.” 1f you will turn for a moment to Appendix Table 38, and compare the number of pauper funerals with the death total during the past five years, you will find that, roughly, one in every seven whose ages have exceeded 64 years has been buried at the cost of the Union, and, taking all ages into account, one in every 17—in a fairly prosperous Union with decreasing pauperism. With these bitter and humiliating facts before us, if pauperism could be shown to be a permanent instead of a decreasing quantity, the promoters of Compulsory Insurance would have an unanswerable case. But the position points directly to the contrary. In 1842 there were 1,429,089 paupers in Hngland and Wales, or 1 in about every 11 of the population ; in 1858, 940,552, or 1 in 20; in 1871, 1,085,661, or 1 in 21 nearly; in 1881, 763,103, or 1 in 84; and in 1891, 721,938, or 1 in 40. The decrease throughout Lancashire has proceeded gradually but with much greater rapidity, from 1 in 47 in 1881, to 1 in 61 in 4 4 er 55 1891. ‘To find out some of the chief causes for this decrease, and to denote the reason for untoward exceptions in Liverpool and several other congested centres, would be to pave the way for further progress. We should then be enabled to gauge with accuracy the value of the demand for Compulsory Insurance. Why, for instance, had the pauperism fallen in the Burnley Union from 1 in 26 in 1851, to 1 in 50 in 1861—+ising a little during the next two decades owing to the Cotton Famine, followed by a prolonged strike and a heavy reduction in wages in 1878—until in 1891 the number has receded to 1 in 80? If you will turn to Appendix Table 5, a fair though by no means full explanation will be found. Wages were higher and work was better and more plentiful in the weaving department in 1859-60—the golden age of the cotton trade—than at present. But voluntary payments in aid of the sick and unemployed, amounting in the aggregate to £8,000 per year, were not called into being at that time. Recent developments of trade organization shield operatives to a large extent from the immediate ill-effects of breakdowns, fires, failures, and stoppages for repairs. The Weavers’ Union alone has distributed during the past 12 months for this most laudable purpose £2,805 ; and in addition £721 as funeral money. A payment of 2d. per week insures £5 at death and 3s. per week during breakdowns, &c. Threepence per week insures £6 at death and 6s. per week; while a payment of 4d. weekly insures £7 at death and 9s. per week. Out of 16,000 weavers, 8,000 are enrolled in the society, and I am credibly informed that this proportion will hold good throughout Lancashire. The amount paid in out-door relief and for indoor maintenance during the past year (excluding lunatics and imbeciles) was £11,525, but the total voluntary payments in aid of the sick and out-of-work largely exceeded that, reaching an aggregate of £15,999 6s. 1d., as you will find on consulting Appendix Tables 4 and 5. In tabulating the amount of active living charity to be found in the Burnley Union, I have purposely refused to take into account periodic doles. But the recent erection of a voluntary hospital, doing an incalculable amount of good, enabling husband, wife, or child to receive careful and continuous narsing, while the remaining bread-winners are free to pursue their ordinary avocations, and by that means keeping hundreds of deserving people from having to depend upon the rates, ought not to be overlooked. To this hospital the workpeople of the district contribute quite £1,100 yearly by means of quarterly collections in mills and workshops, and they also subscribed the magnificent sum of £4,186 1s. 6d. towards the building fund. Long continued ill-health is a fruitful source of pauperism, and every step towards rendering efficient aid, directly by means of 56 hospitals and dispensaries, and indirectly by insisting upon the speedy removal of unsanitary property, and the prompt closing of cellar dwellings, ought to receive ungrudging support. Care- fulness in distribution and an insistance upon giving indoor relief and none other in cases of personal uncleanliness, besottedness, or moral turpitude, have had no small effect in lessening applications for relief. But a very large amount of positive good has been wrought by the many aids to thrift that have sprung up in our midst during the last forty years. A reference to Appendix Table 8, will convince you at a glance, Burnley being only the cotton districts in miniature, that the working classes of Lancashire are, as a whole, cultivating saving habits. Amongst 165,000 inhabitants there are 30,000 depositors of less sums than £100, and upwards of 2,000 small property owners, who at the outset generally borrow money from the local Building Societies, and whose gross return does not exceed £20 yearly. An examination of Mr. Henley’s latest returns of pauperism in Lancashire, enables anyone interested to discover at once the presence of an increasingly dangerous plague spot. Outside Manchester and Liverpool, emergence from an environment of chronic pauperism is steady and decided. Eliminate those two unions, and you will find that the proportion throughout Lancashire of paupers to population, will fall from 1 in 61 to 1 in 67 nearly. The pauperism of the two cities was estimated as being, on the 1st of January last, 1 in 35 and 1 in 34 respectively, in Mr. Henley’s valuable report; but the latest census returns and Mr. Henley’s supplementary figures based upon them, emphasize their frightful position by giving 1 in 34 and 1 in 26 respectively, or an average, taking the two cities together, of one pauper to every 29°4 of the inhabitants. The work of the Manchester Board of Guardians and of the Liverpool Select Vestry, is one from which many of us would shrink. They have to deal as best they may with a continuous flow from two sources, one from within the other from without, of English, Scotch, Irish, and Welsh out-of-works, and of brow-beaten starved-out immigrants. Nothing could be further from my thoughts than an unsympathetic criticism of the Poor Law work, courageously and efficiently discharged, both in Liverpool and Manchester, but it may not be unserviceable to bring to light the immense and rapidly increasing difficulties by which they are beset, because in their case, where the evils ever attendant upon pauperism are most pronounced, the application of the principle of Compulsory Insurance—as a remedy—is practically impossible. Labour, in both cities, is largely intermittent, and yet for that very reason, easy to obtain, in snatches. Anas 57 Organization of labour, in all its branches, would do much to relieve the terrible congestion common to all huge centres of population. At one time, when the employer ‘“ dwelt amongst his own people,” and knew each worker by sight if not by name, a kindly feeling often manifested itself between employer and employed. But now, the exodus of heads of firms and managers to suburban residences, and the formation of huge Corporations intent only upon six-monthly dividends, have made combination amongst workpeople a crying necessity. Whether we are to continue to allow wholesale and unquestioned immigration in order to revel in cheap, badly-made, and fever-laden clothing, the production of ‘‘sweated’’ labour, is a problem requiring a firm and speedy answer; and it may be necessary shortly to demand a substantial port registration fee from immigrants. A close study of the relief returns of Manchester, Liverpool, and the Hast-end of London, together with the fearful conditions under which human life therein exists, makes a hopeful solution impossible nnder present conditions. It is as absurd to educate the youth of the country at immense cost, and then to open wide the flood-gates for the influx of ignorant, hopeless, and unsanitary immigrants, as to filter carefully the head of a stream and afterwards allow free access to garbage. It will be time enough to indulge in the fond dream, so flattering to our national vanity, and so very far removed from actual fact, in which England is pictured as offering a home to all who.are oppressed, when we can make the conditions of life for these poor creatures humanly bearable, and what is more, have brought our native-born population out of the clutches of chronic poverty. A friend has drawn my attention to a fact well known to Poor Law Guardians. While our own poor, under the Settlement and Removal Clauses, are liable to be transferred as far as from Kent to County Galway upon becoming chargeable to a Poor Law Union, England, saddled with the offscourings of Europe, quietly submits to the process, under the Pharisaic notion that she is the heaven-appointed guardian of the suffering and down-trodden, harrying her own children from parish to parish, while receiving with open arms aliens and nondescripts. Turning to the question of pauperism in purely agricultural districts, we come across quite other reasons for its persistence. Here the vicious system so long in vogue throughout England of granting relief in aid of wages has never been thoroughly eradicated. When English agricultural labourers, following the example of artizans and factory workers, have sufficient intelligence to effectually combine, courage to demand a fair day’s wage, and energy enough to earn it, the cloud of poverty that has so long enveloped them will rapidly disperse. Returning from this review of the present position Il 58 with regard to pauperism, in order to directly discuss the claims of Compulsory National Insurance as a remedy for it, we find two distinct methods—advoecated or in vogue. One is the pay- ment before the age of twenty-one years of the whole sum required in order to insure throughout life, and the other the German system—weekly and continuous subscriptions. A distinct improvement upon the German practice is already at work throughout the Lancashire cotton manufacturing districts, but in two sections. The Weavers’ trades union not only offers provision for burials, but also provides a substantial weekly payment in cases of mill stoppages through fires, failures, breakdowns or removals of machinery, ranging from 3s. to 9s. to each subscriber. The magnitude of the task thus voluntarily undertaken will be seen on referring to Appendix Table 5. During the past 12 months this single association has discharged obligations to members temporarily out of work equal to 24 per cent. of the cost of in-maintenance and out-relief combined. The total payments by the whole of the trades equalled 44 per cent. of the direct charges in connection with pauperism, and this average will obtain throughout the manufacturing portion of Lancashire. I am inclined to think that nothing but the very natural fear, on the part of trade unionist leaders, of malingering by members prevents the addition of a scheme of sick pay. Sick pay is taken in hand by numerous friendly societies, whose ageregate returns to members or their families equalled, during the past year, 62 per cent. of the total Poor Law relief. Taken together, sick pay and trades payments equalled £106 to every £109 paid by the Guardians. Unfortunately, superannuation funds are practically inoperative in both England and Germany. If some financially safe and popular scheme of old-age annuities could be put in force by our trades associations or friendly societies (who unfortunately refuse to grant sick pay to all who have attained the age of 65 years), the battle against easily preventable pauperism—all the pauperism that compulsory insurance could reach—would be well-nigh won. This accom- plished, the 29°8 per cent. of our paupers who would by compulsory insurance be relieved from old-age poverty and the 2°5 per cent.—the temporally disabled—who would be immedi- ately provided for by such involuntary insurance, would soon be further and sensibly diminished. With these facts before me, I strongly agree with the finding of the Select Committee of the House of Commons, appointed in 1885 to consider the question of Compulsory Insurance, and think, to use the words of their report, that ‘‘ anything which tended to undermine the self-taught habits of thrift and self-help which prevail among the working classes to a considerable extent, or to lead the wage-earners of this country to rely for 59 support upon a National Insurance Society, practically guaranteed by the State, might be fraught with disastrous consequences. It might lessen the feeling of responsibility which it shared by a constantly increasing number of the working classes of providing their insurance for themselves. It might seriously impair that education in thrift and training in business which have been brought about by their own associa- tions for self-help by the working classes, the value of which to the nation it is almost impossible to exaggerate.’ We have yet to examine the method first propounded by Canon Blackley. In doing so I shall follow the lines laid down by Mr. Tremenheere, because his scheme is free from the hoof-mark of State subsidization, which disfigures Canon Blackley’s proposition. I have been strongly influenced by Mr. Tremenheere’s reason- ing, and upon several grounds. For instance, there is not the slightest flavour of genteel pauperism about them of 10s. in the £ independence, and the fact that the payments required would exactly balance the amount expended by Government upon each child’s education, when compound interest till the attainment of 21 years of age has been added, some £25 in all, lends poetie justice to the claim for a return of a portion of each child’s wages, in order to secure the State from further responsibilities. It would be dishonest, however, to refuse to acknowledge that the road mapped out by Mr. Tremenheere is strewn with difficulties. No scheme which demanded provision against future sickness or the exigencies of old age from a portion only of the community, could be considered fair or reasonable, and it is certain that any attempt to enforce National Insurance in a limited sense would deserve reprobation., The ease with which ‘‘riches takes to itself wings” is the subject of proverbial remark in Lancashire. Who can tell what the whirligig of time may bring in forty years from now? and yet, the well-to-do would strongly resent the application of enforced provision in their own families. On the other hand, many female children, in occupation first as nursemaids and afterwards as general servants, scarcely earn money enough between the ages named in the scheme—14 to 21 years—to provide themselves with decent clothing. To a very large number health is precarious during this period of life, and as no sick pay could well be granted until the attainment of 21 years of age, the pressure resulting frem an enforced payment of 1-12th such children’s earnings would be extremely heavy. The tax would fall also with painful force upon struggling tradesmen. Taking £25 as the sum required from each child, and allowing an average of four persons per household, the total cost per family would reach £100. This sum would enable them to emigrate to one of our most distant colonies, with enough money remaining to allow 60 them to live in comfort until one or all of them obtained employment. Again, the difficulties surrounding the bringing up of a large family, are first surmounted by the earnings of the eldest child. Many successful manufacturers owe their present assured position to the assistance the constant supply of money, produced by the earnings of their children, gave them in their first endeavour to reach the grade of employers. In spite of these serious drawbacks, I should be strongly inclined to throw in my lot with the principle of compulsory insurance, payments to commence with earliest wages, and to cease at twenty-one years of age, were it not that here also there is overwhelming evidence of habits of thrift and forethought increasingly at work. You will find upon referring to Appendix Table 3, that the aggregate of an incomplete list of small savings throughout the Burnley Union—and I would again remind you that the same condition of things is to be found in every part of the Lancashire cotton manufacturing districts—shows that there are 82,700 small depositors in building societies, the post office savings bank, and co-operative societies in a population of 165,000. From this list T have excluded all amounts exceeding £100, preferring to confine my inquiries to those whose savings would have been seriously interfered with by a system of compulsory insurance, requiring the payment of an average of £100 from each family. It is encouraging to find that one in every five of the population has given substantial pledges in the matter of thrift, especially when we take into consideration the fact that in the aggregate they exceed by 16 to 1 the total number of paupers. Some allowance must be made for duplicates, but these will be much more than counterbalanced by the great number of married women who, though not nominally included, in reality share in and encourage the habit of laying money aside against arainy day. Scarcely any of these agencies, enabling working people to make good use of small savings, were in existence forty years ago, and their ever-increasing success is an untold benefit, accounting largely for the steady decrease of pauperism since their inauguration. Again, therefore, though this time with no small reluctance, I have to fall in with the recommendations of the Select Committee, and to express the opinion that the cause of thrift and self-help will be best forwarded by allowing the voluntary agencies already at work in that direction to consolidate and ramify. I do not mean by this to advocate a policy of non-interference, and it does not follow from my remarks that judicious supervision and control would be misplaced, when we remember the great discouragement that has been thrown in the way of thrift through reckless trading and inefficient checks against malappropriations in the past. S ; 61 Amongst other methods, two recommendations of the Select Committee before-named deserve prominence. One is to insist upon friendly societies making the subscription of their members equal, from an actuarial point of view, to the amounts they are entitled to claim. I would add that benefits should never altogether lapse through inability to continue subscriptions. These subscriptions ought, like life insurance policies, to have cumulative value. The custom of depending upon non-payments, and subsequent loss of benefits to defaulting members, is utterly indefensible, and brings about an aggravation of calamity in cases oi sudden and unavoidable poverty. The other is the recommendation that all persons hereafter appointed to offices in the service of the Crown should contribute to their own pensions by means of a reduction from their salaries or pay. This suggestion might with benefit be taken into serious consideration by Town Councils, Poor Law Boards, and other public bodies. An extension of the system now in vogue amongst many large public and private companies—insurance against sickness and accidents—encouraged by contributions from the directorate or firm, would do an immense service, and tend to renew the feeling of respect now all but oblitered in the race for dividends. Further, there is no reason why Governments should not largely extend their deferred annuities department. In New Zealand, according to Sir Charles Dilke, the authorities are not too dignified to advertise, and their favourite quotation, from the Economist, is to the effect that the greatest of undeveloped economic forces is the principle of insurance backed by the State guarantee, that is, of insurance that really insures. Our munici- pal and other local authorities ought also to unbend and to freely receive, at a rate of interest which would cover the extra clerkship required, small investments of £10 or £20 and upwards. Is there any valid reason why they should not be allowed to issue deferred annuities under proper regulations? Many timid people who hesitate to place their savings with building or co-operative societies, would gladly avail themselves of one or other of these methods. I could give numerous instances from personal knowledge of home hoardings, and Silas Marner has, in that respect, many modern counterparts in the Lancashire cotton districts. I have reached the close of my inquiry. To many of you the smallness of the reforms advocated, and the difficulties that everywhere presented themselves when we attempted to take pauperism by storm, will have been extremely disappointing. Is there then, after all, no “‘ Morrison’s pill for curing the maladies of society ’’—no trustworthy specific? Fortunately, no. The best energies of the coming generation will have full scope in evolving new methods and in strengthening those at present in operation for the amelioration of human conditions. In the 62 meantime, there are good grounds for hope. Sooner or later the unreasoning optimism and cheap philanthropy which allow immigrants to elbow out our own workpeople, reared at vast expense to the community, will be overruled. I sincerely hope that the demand for well-considered restriction will not be too long delayed, and that efficient means to that end will be furnished before an excited populace takes the law into his own hands, and inflicts cruel and undeserved punishment upon helpless outcasts, while the real culprits—those who batten upon human starvation—backed by sleek and sleepy doctrinaires— escape unscathed. The persistence of an appalling amount of pauperism in our huge centres of population in spite of rigid administration—practically the offer of the workhouse only to all applicants for relief—calls for an immediate supplementary treatment. When an experienced physician finds that drastic measures fail to bring about any improvement in his patient’s condition, he looks further afield and prescribes an alteration of regimen. The same rule will apply socially. Meanwhile, outside these congested districts we everywhere meet with signs of a coming and permanent emergence irom pauperism. The test applied to discover how far there is need for compulsory insurance, revealed silent and mighty agencies at work sapping the very foundations of chronic poverty. By their means, in spite of some decrease in wages and the prevalence of diminished trade in ratio to population, pauperism has fallen to less than one-half its former dimensions, and has made throughout Lancashire during the year just passed another crab-like climb- downwards. I venture to express the thought that in the future combined voluntary assistance will gradually displace Poor Law relief. TABLE 1. MR. TREMENHEERE’S FIGURES. s. d. According to Ratcliffe’s Tables, with £3 per cent. interest, and the age 21— The value of Sick Pay up to 65, if paid at 21, is equal to ........ wo Add 30 per cent. to include expenses of management............ 2220 According to the Post Office tables (table 2, page 19) the cost of Gh ALMCAth, ah PAG aA Leeds WOULG! Welle crete cloister slcleneleteleiclelsistete 18 4 Cost of sick pay and funeral funds ............+- L010 According to the Post Office tables for deferred annuities (page 45) the cost of £13 per year, or 5s. per week, PEM P AIG IAG ONS WOULGDGl sa tleinisteys teres © ckelele cia sielel= (eles 12 0 6 Add 10 per cent. for cost of monthly instead of half- yearly payments, as specified in page 8 of explana- tory statement of Post Office tables .........+..+- 1 4 0 F 13 6 Total cost, sick pay, burial fund and annuity ...... £24 5 4 63 TABLE 2. Total number of paupers, in-door and out-door, in the Burnley Union, on January Ist, excluding insane persons and RETR DeGiles ce Cer men deal els nie dint=!aislerele! stetrintalalels ninco 2,033. Males aged 65 and OVer.......s+eeee- seer ereeee 223 or 11:1 per cent. Females aged 65 and over.....-.-e+-+seeerecees 389 or 18°7 a Males above 15 and under 65 years of age, temporarily disabled ......-+++++++s++tee0+ 52 or 2:5 53 Females above 15 and under 65 years of age temporarily disabled .....--.++----+ +--+" 64 or 31 “i Able-bodied males above 15 and under 65 years Of AGC. ..ee cee ceceee ee eneres ce sseeeteseees 6 or 0:8 5 Able-bodied females above 15 and under 65 years Of ALC wecececeecnneceerrecetcseereccees 152 or 7:4 R Children under 16 years of age ....seee ee ee eee 782 or 38:4 3 Permanently disabled........ se+seeseeererccees 364 or 18:0 i: Total ...0.02cseercceree 2033 or i00 per cent. TABLE 3. Number of deaths for the past five years within the Burnley Union :— imbeciles) for the year ending March 25th, 1891. Actually Distributed ........- From infancy to 64 years of age .... ee ee eee cree tt eerer ees From 65 years and upwards ....--++sseeeere rere stress ree Motalt Moca crtstt cites is sien =) «roms eielare Paid for funerals during the past five years within the Burnley Union :— From infancy to 64 years of age ..---+++++r +++ 748 or 4:7 per cent. From 65 years and upwards..---..+++++ss+++s 293 or 13°8 Total ajerctete ere!) === 1041 or 5-7 No. of depositors of less than £100 in Post Office Savings Bank, in the Burnley Union ......-+1-.-sescceeecersesettetersess es No. of depositors in Building Societies,......2+22++-200- swigarsietels 10,096 es as in the various Co-operative Societies (average investment, £9 17s. 8d.)....-. seer eee terete eee e ee teretes 15,784 No. of Small Property Owners—not exceeding £20 annual value Reetrmnnted)) 3x «cw og ber weiie Sar ijn Gare san at ae Eee Bota: sok aaicisaiec. cieletonys. srotenatetets 52,708 TABLE 4. In-door and Out-Relief in the Burnley Union (excluding lunatics and Miele erste teaser £7,867 In-maintenance, clothing, tood, drugs, coals and gas.. 3,658 Mo falies scdedeiee ence Mees eris LL 2p 64 TABLE 5. Collections in Mills and Workshops towards the erection of a Voluntary Hospital, £4,186 1s. 6d. Payments by Friendly Societies and Trades’ Associations during the past Twelve Months in the Burnley Union. £ sed. Weavers’ Association— Breakdowwisehiress Watmlures, 2c ski. ciel «cle wiser a, > epsiemlalelale(n 2805 0 0 Funeral of Members 0... 2.0 .cc cert cece ee cseres eense 2 FO) 10 Tacklers’ and Tapers’ Association (estimated) .............. 150 0 0 Amalgamated Society of Engineers ........++-s ee eee e eens 495 0 0 Moulders (estimated) ............ eee c eee eee e eee e cn ee eens 400 0 O Other Trades (estimated) ......... 20. ee eee eee cece ee eee 500 0 O Miners’? SOcietiy: