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THE 



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PENNY MAGAZINE 



OF 



THE SOCIETY 



FOR THK 



DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 



1834. 










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LONDON:— CHARLES KNIGHT. 
NEW YORK :— WILLIAM JACKSON. 

BOSTON:— MUNROE <fc FRANCIS. 

H'3, 



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AF4 



PREPACK TO THE AME. 



ITION. 



The unparalleled sale of the " Penny Magazine" L\ the United Kingdom, as well as the highly valuable, 
interesting, and useful information contained in the work, induced the Proprietor of this edition to make arrange 
merits with the Publisher in London, for a new and complete set of Stereotype Plates to be cast from the original 
edition. These plates have nearly all arrived, and the Second Volume is now in course of publication. 

This undertaking is attended with the saiue dhHculties and expenses, so fully pointed out in the following Preface 
to the English edition, and to which we would refer our numerous readers. It lias also to contend with several 
imitation* compiled principally from its pages, none of which, however, have yet equalled it in the extent of 
matter, or the beauty and number of the engravings. The " Penny Magazine" is sold either in Numbers, at 
Two Cents each, or in Monthly Parts, to which are added Supplements, at Twelve and a Half Cents : the purchaser 
thus receives Sixty-four Numbers for One Dollar and a Half ; while the most successful of the works of 
a similar nature, published in the United States, furnishes only Twenty-six numbers (containing less matter in each) 
for a subscription of One Dollar. ' " 



Without the aid of Machinery, — which has arrived in this country to great perfection, especially in the art of 
printing — the n Penny Magazine" could not be published at its present price ; and even with this aid, it 
must have a large circulation, to cover the heavy charges attending its progress through the press and 
distribution throughout this extensive country 

New- York, November 98, 1833. 



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PREFACE. 



Upon the completion of the First Volume of the "Penny Magazine," it may not be inexpedient to offtr a 
Tew observations to the purchasers of this little work, whose sale has been justly regarded as one of the most 
remarkable indications of the extent to which the desire for knowledge has reached in the United Kingdom. 

It was considered by Edmund Burke, about forty years ago, that there were eighty thousand readcrt in this 
country. In the present year it has been shown, by the sale of the "Penny Magazine," that there are two 
hundred thousand purchasers of^one periodical work. It may be fairly calculated that the number of readers of 
that single work amounts to a million. 

If this incontestable evidence of the spread of the ability to read be most satisfactory, it is still more satisfactory 
to consider the species of reading which has had such an extensive and increasing popularity. In this work there 
has never been a single sentence that could inflame a vicious appetite ; and not a paragraph that could minister to 
prejudices and superstitions which a few years since were common. There have been no excitements for the 
lovers of .the marvellous — no tattle or abuse for the gratification of a diseased taste for personality— ind, above all, 
no party politics. The subjects which have uniformly been treated have been of the broadest and simplest 
character. Striking points of Natural History — Accounts of the great Works of Art in Sculpture and Painting — 
Descriptions of such Antiquities as possess historical interest — Personal Narratives of Travellers — Biographies 
of Men who have had a permanent influence on the condition of the world — Elementary Principles of Language 
and Numbers— established facts in Statistics and Political Economy — these have supplied the materials for exciting 
the curiosity of a million of readers. This consideration furnishes the most convincing answer to the few (if any 
there now remain) who assert £hat General Education is an evil. The people will not abuse the power they have 
acquired to read, and therefore to think. Let them be addressed in the spirit of sincerity and respect, and they will 
prove that they are fully entitled to the praise which Milton bestowed upon their forefathers, as "a nation not slow 
and dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit,— icute to invent, subtile and sinewy to discourse, not 
beneath the reach of any point the highest that human caps' ity can soar to." 

It must not, however, be forgotten, that some of the une/\mpled success of this little work is to be ascribed to 
the liberal employment of illustrations, by means of wood-cut,. At the commencement of the publication, before 
the large sale which it has reached could at all have been contemplated, the cuts were few in number, and 
partly selected from another work of the Society — the " Library of Entertaining Knowledge." But as the public 
encouragement enabled the conductors to make greater exertions to give permanency to the success which the 
44 Penny Magazine" had attained, it became necessary to engage artists of eminence, both as draughtsmen and 
wood-engravers, to gratify a proper curiosity, and cultivate an increasing taste, by giving representations of the 
finest Works of Art, of Monuments of Antiquity, and of subjects of Natural History, in a style that had been pre- 
viously considered to belong only to expensive books. In the prosecution of this undertaking there have been great 
mechanical difficulties. The wood-cuts, as well as the text, are transferred to stereotype-plates — and the impres- 
sions are rapidly printed from these plates by machinery. In this process there can of course be no delicate and 
careful adjustment, such as is found necessary in printing wood-cuts by the common press. The average number 
of the " Penny 1 ly from two sets of stereotype-plates, is sixteen thousand, on both sides ; 

— at the common housand impressions, on both sides, can only be obtained, even where 

particular care is n berefore, that the speed with which the " Penny Magazine" is printed, 

is sixteen times gr rinting, some indulgence must be made for defects in the wood-cuts, as 

they appeared in a Jers. Those defects have been now almost entirely overcome, by the 

talent of the engra to a new process. 

It may not be u two or three facts here, which may possibly be more systematically and 

fully pointed out h le of showing that such a work as the " Penny Magazine" could not 

exist in its present siaie — mju na present state is dependent upon its large sale — except in a country where civili- 
zation is carried forward to very high degrees of perfection. The vast number of the existing race of readers, 
to which we have already alluded, might be supposed sufficient to warrant this assertion : but let us examine ;t \ 
little more in detail 



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l? PREFACE 

i 

The number of the " Penny Magazine*' which the reader is now perusing will be left ready to be printed off— 
to u go to press" as it is technically termed — on the 19th of December. Its previous prepanttion will haw 
employed writers and artists, and that class of printers called compositors, for several week* The paper fov 
160,000 copies (the quantity required for the consumption during the first month after publication), consisting of 
160 double reams (each sheet printing t%o copies,) will have been previously delivered from the mill, and wilMhave 
been charged with the excise duty of 3d. in the lb. upon 5,600 lbs. — the /tax upon that quantity amounting to 70/. 
Up to this - [Joint a great deal of technical knowledge and mechanical skill will have been employed. Chemical 
knowledge and machinery are Indispensable in the manufacture of the paper ; and without the very ingenious 
invention of Stereotype Founding, in which great practical improvements have been made within a few years, the 
44 Penny Magazine" could not be printed in duplicate, which diminishes the expense, nor could the supply be 
proportioned to the demand. As we have already explained,, the printing machine begins its work when every 
preparation is complete. In ten days one machine produces 160,000 copies from two sets of plates. If the 
printing machine had not been invented it would have taken a single press, producing a thousand perfect copies 
each day, one hundred and sixty days, or more than five calendar months, to complete the same number. We see, 
therefore, that up to this point there are many conditions for the production of a Penny Magazine which couM 
not exist except in a high state of civilization, where there were large accumulations of knowledge. 

This Number of our periodical woik, which thus goes to press on the 19th of December, will be sold in every 
part of the United Kingdom, general y on the 1st of January, — in remote districts, on the 3d or 4th at latest No 
one who wishes for a copy of this Magazine, whether in England, Scotland, or Ireland, can have any difficulty in 
getting it if he can find a bookseller. The communication between the capital and the country, and between large 
towns in the country and villages, is now so perfect, that wherever there is a sufficient demand of any commodity 
there will be a supply. But the " Penny Magazine" is still a Penny Magazine all over the country. No one 
charges three-halfpence or twopence for it. The wholesale dealer and the retailer lderive their profit from die 
publisher ; and the carriage is covered by that profit. But that could not be if there were not cheap as well as 
ready communication through all parts of the United Kingdom. The steamboat upon the seas — the canal— the 
railway — the quick van — these, as well as the stage-coach and mail — place the " Penny Magazine" within every 
one's reach in the farthest part of die kingdom, as certainly as if he lived in London, and without any additional 
cost This is a striking illustration of the civilization of our country ; and when unthinking people therefore ask, 
what is the "benefit of steam-engines, and canals, and fine roads to the poor man, they may be answered by this 
example alone. In this, as in all other cases, ready and cheap communication breaks down the obstacles of time 
and space, — and thus bringing all ends of a great kingdom as it were together, greatly reduces the inequalities of 
fortune and situation, by equalizing the price of commodities, and to that extent mailing them accessible to all. 

Some people have foolishly said that the " Pei\ sy Magazine" is a monopoly. There were formerly a great 
many monopolies of literature in this country ; — that is, certain privileges were granted by the government to par- 
ticular individuals, with the intent of diminishing the circulation of books by keeping up the price. Then the 
government was afraid that the people would learn to think. The object of those concerned in the " Penny 
Magazine 9 ' is, contrary to the spirit of monopoly, to circulate as many copies as they can, as cheaply as they can. 
This Work has no exclusive privileges, and can have no exclusive privileges. It stands upon the commercial 
principle alone ; and if its sale did not pay its expenses, with a profit to all concerned in it (except to the individual 
members of the Society who give it the benefit of their superintendence), it would not stand at all. The Society 
has no funds to assist the " Penny Magazine ;" for its subscriptions are scarcely sufficient to defray the rent of 
the chambers in which it holds its meetings. But the " Penny Magazine" contributes materially to the funds 
of the Society, which funds are ready to be devoted to new undertakings, where success may not be so assured. 
The public, who buy the " Penny Magazine" to the extent of two hundred thousand, are its only pecuniary 
supporters. It is the duty of those who receive this large encouragement to carry forward their work to as high a 
point of excellence as they may attain by liberal and judicious arrangements. 

December IBth, 1839 



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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 

OF THE 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



1.] 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[March 31, 1832. 



READING FOR ALL. 

In a book upon the Poor, published in 1673, called 
* The Grand Concern of England explained,' we find 
the following singular proposal : — " that the multitude 
of stage-coaches and caravans, now travelling upon the 
roads, may all, or most of them, be suppressed, especially 
those within forty, fifty, or sixty miles The 

evil of the stage-coaches is somewhal >er- 

ceived at the present day ; but this it lad 

no doubt whatever on the matter, " will 

any man keep a horse for himself ana auouier iur his 
man, all the year, for to ride one or two joumies, that at 
* pleasure, when he hath occasion, can step to an$ jplace 
where his business lies, for two, three, or four swings, 
if within twenty miles of London, and so proportionably 
into any part of England?" 

We laugh at the lamentation over the evil of stage- 
coaches, because we daily see or experience the benefits 
of the thousands of public conveyances carrying forward 
the persona] intercourse of a busy population, and equally 
useful whether they run from Paddington to the Bank, 
or from the General Post-Office to Edinburgh. Some, 
however, who acknowledge the fallacy of putting down 
long and short stages, that, horses may be kept all the 
year, " for to ride one or two joumies," may fall into the 
very same mistake with regard to knowledge that was 
thus applied to communication. They may desire to 
retain a monopoly of literature for those who can buy 
expensive books ; they may think a five-guinea quarto 
(like the horse for one or two journies) a public benefit, 
and look 4pon a shilling duodecimo to be used by every 
one ** at pleasure, when he hath occasion," (like the stage- 
coach,) as a public evil. '* 
What the' stage-coach has become to the middle classes, 
we hope our Penny Magazine will be to all classes — 
a universal convenience and enjoyment. The Society 
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge have considered it 
proper to commence this publication, from the belief that 
many persons, whose time and whose means are equally 
limited, may be induced to purchase and to read it. 
The various works already published by the Society are 
principally adapted to diligent readers, — to those who are 
anxiously desirous to obtain knowledge in a condensed, 
and, in most cases, systematic form. But there are a 
very great number of persons who can spare half an hour 
lor the reading of a new«nnnpr. who are sometimes disin- 
clined to open a book, four to 
prepare a useful an< jazine, 
that may be taken up miring 
any considerable eflbi fix the 
mind upon calmer, a ects of 
thought than the vioh the sti- 
mulating details of cri *, how- 
ever, no expectation < ;r, and 
no desire to supersede n. n u — pu ^iiiy io snare some 
portion of the attention which is now almost exclusively 
bestowed upon " the folio of four pages,'' by those who 
read little and seldom. We consider it the duty of every 
man to make himself acquainted with the events that are 
passing in the world, — with the progress of legislation, and 
the administration of the laws ; for every man is deeply 
interested in all the great questions of government. 
Every man, however, may not be qualified to understand 
them ; but the more he knows, the less hasty and the 
less violent will be his opinions. The false judgments 
which are sometimes formed by the people upon public 
v ih. I. 



events, can only be corrected by the diffusion of sound 
knowledge. Whatever tends to enlarge the range of 
observation, to add to the store of facts, to awaken the 
reason, and to lead the imagination into agreeable and 
innocent trains of thought, may assist in the establish- 
ment of a sincere and ardent desire for information ; and 
in this point of view our little Miscellany may prepare 
the way for the reception of more elaborate and precise 
knowledge, and be as the small optic-glass called "the 
finder/ 1 which is placed by the side of a large telescope, 
to enable the observer to discover the star which is after- 
wards to be carefully examined by the more perfect in- 
strument m 

CHARING CROSS. 

This place has been recently 
greatly improved by clearing 
away decaying houses, and en- 
larging the space for the public 
convenience, and for the display 
of newly-erected handsome build-, 
ings. It derives its name from 
having been anciently a village 
detached from London, called 
Charijig, and from a stately 
Crass erected there by order of 
Edward I., to commemorate his 
affection for Eleanor, his deceased 
queen. The cross occupied the 
last spot on which her body rested 
in its progress to sepulture in 
Westminster Abbey. The other 
resting-places of her sumptuous 
funeral were dignified by similar 
edifices. 

Two centuries and a half ago, 
Charing Cross was within bow- 
shot of the open country, all the 
way to Hampstead and Highgate. North of the Cross 
there were only a few houses in front of the Mews, where 
the King's falcons were kept. The Hay-market was a 
country road, with hedges on each side, running between 
pastures. St. Manin's lane was bounded on the west 
side by the high walls of the Mews, and on the other side 
by a few houses and by old St. Martin's church, where 
the present church stands. 'From these buildings it was 
a quiet country lane, leading to St Giles's, then a pleasant 
village, situated among fine trees. Holborn was a mere 
road between open meadow-land, with a green hedge on 
the north side. In the Strand, opposite to St. Martin's lane, 
stood the hospital and gardens of St. Mary Rouncival, a 
religious establishment founded and endowed by William 
Earl of Pembroke, in the reign of Henry III. In the 
middle of the road leading to the Abbey, and opposite to 
Charing Cross, stood a hermitage and chapel dedicated 
to St. Catherine. 

Charing Cross is represented in the above engraving*. 
It was of an octagonal form and built of stone, and in 
an upper stage contained eight figures. In 1643 it was 
pulled down and destroyed by the populace, in their zeal 
against superstitious edifices. Upon the ground of similar 
zeal, Henry VIII. suppressed the religious houses of the 
kingdom v and seized their estates and revenues to his own 
use : the hospital of St. Mary Rouncival was included 
in this fate. On its ancient site stands the palace of the 
Duke of Northumberland. It was built in the reign of 




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THE VENNY MAGAZINE, 



[MaUch 11, 



Jarnc^ I. by Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, and 
luring his life was called Northampton House. In 
1642 it came to Algernon, Earl of Northumberland,- by 
narnage, an* 3 since then has been called Northumber- 
and House. 

The exact spot upon which Charing Cross stood is 
occupied by an equestrian statue of Charles I. in bronze* 
executed in 1633 by Le Sceur, for the Earl of Arundel. 
During the civil wars it fell into the hands of the Parlia- 
ment, by whom it was ordered to be sold and broken up. 
The purchaser, John River, a brazier, produced some 
pieces of broken brass, in token of his having complied 
with the conditions of sale' ; and he so .d to the cavaliers 
the handles of knives and forks as made from the statue : 
River deceived both the Parliament and the loyalists; 
for he had buried the statue unmutilated. At the restora- 
tion of Charles II. he dug it up, and sold it to the 
Government ; and Grinlin Gibbon executed a stone 
pedestal, seventeen feet high, upon which it was placed 
and still remains. It has been customary on the 29th 
of May, the anniversary of the Restoration, to dress the 
statue with oaken boughs. 



VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. * 

We have before us an Almanac for 1831, published in 
Hobart Town, the capital of Van Diemen's Land. It is 
a matter of agreeable wonder to find an Almanac pub- 
lished in, and for the use of, a country, which even at so 
late a date as the beginning of the present century (within 
thirty years), and indeed for some years afterwards, was 
inhabited merely by a few thousands of the most ignorant 
and destitute savages on the face of the earth. And now 
we find established on those distant shores a community 
so far advanced in social refinement as to have already 
an almanac of its own ; one, too, in many respects as 
well executed as any production of the same kind to be 
found in older countries, and much better than some 
that still disgrace the most civilized countries. This is 
an Almanac without Astrology. 

Although called an Almanac, this little volume con- 
tains a considerable variety of information not usually 
given in works of that description. The heavy stamp- 
duty in our own country renders it necessary that an 
Almanac should contain little besides the Calendar, 
Lists, and useful Tables ; and thus the Society for the 
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge prints a Companion to 
the Almanac, which may be bought with it or not. In 
addition to a Calendar and the ordinary lists, we have 
here a body of information respecting the past, and espe- 
cially the present state of the country, embracing almost 
every particular with which either a person intending to 
emigrate, or the general reader, can desire to be ac- 
quainted. 

Van Diemen's Land was discovered so long ago as the 
year 1642, by the Dutch navigator Tasman, who gave it 
the name which it still bears, in honour of his employer 
Anthony Van Diemen, the then governor of the Dutch 
possessions in India. It was not, however, till the year 
1604 that the country was taken possession of by Eng- 
land. In the early part of that year Colonel David 
Collins, having been appointed Governor of the pro- 
jected settlement, arrived on the island with about four 
hundred prisoners in charge, and a force of fifty marines 
under his command. He was accompanied also by 
several gentlemen, commissioned to fill the various situa- 
tions in the new government. They fixed their head- 
quarters on the site of the present capital, to which they 
gave the name of Hobart Town, after Lord Hobart, the 
then Secretary for the Colonies. •' The Colony/' pro- 
ceeds the narrative before us, " being thus founded, con- 
tin; led to take root, although at times suffering very great 
hardships. Indeed those who recollect them, and see 



what the place has since become, will be of opinion that 
no difficulties at the outset of colonization are enough to 
deter adventurers from steadily pursuing their object 
For the first three years, the inhabitants being wholly _ 
dependent upon foreign supplies for the commonest arti- 
cles of food, were occasionally reduced to great straits ; 
and, accordingly, we hear of eighteen pence per pound 
(laving been readily given for kangaroo flesh, and that 
even sea-weed, or any other vegetable substance that 
could be eaten, was eagerly sought after. But man is 
always the better for being thrown upon his own re- 
sources. After a time, it was discovered that the colony 
itself, if. the land were cultivated, possessed that which 
would supersede the necessity of seeking elsewhere for 
food ; and, although the first attempts at husbandry were 
merely made with the hoe and spade, enough, was ascer- 
tained by them to bid the colonists go on and prosper." 
No sheep or cattle were imported till three years after the 
settlement of the island. For some time- after this, in- 
deed, the colony was looked upon merely as a place of 
punishment for persons convicted of crimes in New South 
Wales, numbers of whom accordingly continued to be 
sent to it every year. Governor Collins died in 1810 ; 
and in 1813 Lieutenant-Colonel Davey arrived as his 
successor. 

From about this time the colony began to be consi- 
dered in a new light. The population consisted no 
longer merely of the convicts and the garrison ; but, 
besides many persons who, having been originally crown 
prisoners, had obtained their freedom by servitude or 
indulgence, embraced a considerable number of settlers 
who had arrived in successive small parties from the 
neighbouring colony of New South Wales. Hitherto 
the only places with which Van Diemen's Laud was 
allowed to hold any communication, had been New South 
Wales and England : that restriction was now done 
away with, and the two colonies were placed, in respect 
to foreign commerce, on precisely the same footing. In 
1816 the numbers of the community and the importance 
of its affairs had so much increased, that the government 
thought proper to establish a newspaper, entitled The 
Hobart Town Gazette, principally for the purpose of 
promulgating proclamatipns and other u -ices. This 
year also was distinguished by the first exportation of 
corn from the island, a considerable quantity having been 
-sent to Port Jackson, and likewise by the commencement 
of whale-fishing by the colonists, " two of the sinews," 
says the present writer, " of our prosperity as a colony." 

In 1817 Colonel Davey was succeeded in the govern- 
ment by Colonel Sorell. The first object which engaged 
the attention of the new Governor was the suppression 
of an evil under wnich the colony had for some year* 
been suF--'""* **"* »•"««■«« ^f th* bush-rangers, as they 
were cal made their escape and 

roamed ie capture and execu- 

tion of hese marauders in a 

short tic sent, to their destruc- 

tive Hire applied himself to the 

improve the internal condition 

of the c iportant public works 

he formi Town and Launces- 

ton, an< I been made about a 

hundred auu iweiuy nines itLimci uorth. 

About 1821 may be said to have begun the emigration 
from England, which has since proceeded almost with 
uninterrupted steadiness. The immediate consequence 
was, " that trade began to assume regularity, distilleries 
and breweries were erected, the Van Diemen's Land 
Bank established, St. Davids church at Hobart Town 
finished and opened, and many other steps taken, 
equally indicative of the progress the colony was 
making.*' In 1824 a supreme court of judicature was 
established in the colony. The same year Colonel Sorell 
was replaced by Colonel Arthur, the present Governor 



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Very soon after Colonel Arthur's arrival, bush-ranging 
again broke out in a more formidable manner than ever ; 
but, by the judicious plans which he adopted for its sup- 
pression, " in the course of a few months," says the pre- 
sent writer, " not only was tranquillity entirely restored, 
but was placed on so firm a basis, that it is next to im- 
possible eyer to be again disturbed by a similar cause." 

In December, 1825, Van Diemen's Land was declared 
entirely independent of New South Wales ;. and an exe- 
cutive and legislative Council were appointed as advisers 
to the Governor, the members of both being named by 
the Crown. In 1827 the island was divided into eight 
police districts, each of which was placed under the charge 
of a stipendiary magistrate. The colony about this time 
"began to export considerably, loading several ships 
each season to England, with wool, bark, and oil/' 
A new evil, however, now began to assail the colony, 
% we mean the. hostility of the natives. After various 
attempts had been made in vain to tame them, or to 
deter them from continuing outrages against the settlers, 
the Governor, at last, in September 1830, deemed it 
necessary to resort to the extreme measure of endeavour- 
ing to drive them into one corner of the island, with the 
intention of there enclosing them for the future. For 
this purpose the whole of the inhabitants were called 
upon to arm themselves, and to lend their aid to the 
military. The result had not been completely successful 
at the time when the latest accounts left the country. 

In the course of the year 1828 the colony, and Hobart 
Town in particular, made a decided step in advance. 
In 1829 a new Act of Parliament was passed for the 
government of the* colony, the most important provisions 
of which were, the transference of the power of levying 
taxes from the Governor to the Legislative Council, and 
the extension of the authority of all the laws of England 
to Van Die men's Land, as far as the circumstances of 
the colony permitted. 

Such is a brief sketch of the origin and progress hi- 
therto of this young, but advanced and flourishing colony. 
Our next week's publication will contain an account of 
its present state. 



ANTIQUITY OF BEER. 
The general drinks of the Anglo-Saxons were ale and 
mead : wine was a luxury for the great. In the Saxon 
Dialogues preserved in the Cotton Library in the British 
Museum, a boy, who is questioned upon his habits and 
the uses of things, says, in answer to the inquiry what r 
he drank — "Ale if I have it, or water if I have it not." 
He adds, that wine is the drink " of the elders and the 
wise." Ale was sold to the people, as at this day, in 
houses of entertainment ; " for a priest was forbidden by 
a law to eat or drink- at ceanealelhetum. literal] v. nlaces 
where ale was sold.'* j wine 

became more common! xten- 

sively cultivated in Eng] held 

to the beverage of theii tina- 

city; and neither the ju ipple 

were ever general favou til or 

drinking-song of the fifl as — 

"Bring 

#i The old ale knights of England," as Camden calls 
the sturdy yeomen of this period, knew not, however, 



Animal Sagacity. — In the immense forests of North 

America, the moose-deer is hunted by the Indians with such 

.relentless perseverance, that all the instincts of the quadruped 

are called forth for the preservation of its existence. Tanner, 

Ai _ , A ,. , L . :. * A , . a white man who lived thirty years in the woods, thus 

the ale to which hops in the next century gave both describes the extraordinary extent of the moose's vigilance: 



flavour and preservation. Hops appear to have been 
used in the breweries of the Netherlands in the be- 
ginning of the fourteenth century. In England they 
were not used in the composition of beer till nearly two 
centuries afterwards. It has been affirmed that the 
planting of hops was forbidden in the reign of Henry VI. ; 
and it is certain that Henry VIII. forbade brewers to put 
hops and sulphur into ale. In the fifth year of Ed- 
ward VI., the royal and national taste appears to have 



changed ; for privileges were then granted to hop-grounds. 
Tusser, in his « Five Hundred Points of good Husbandry/ 
printed in 1557, thus sings the praises of this plant* — 
"The hop for his profit I thus do exalt, 
It strengtheneth drink and it flavoureth malt; 
And being well-brewed long kept it will last, 
And drawing abide, if ye draw not too fast." 

In the reign of James I. the plant was not sufficiently 
cultivated in England for the consumption ; as there is 
a statue of 1608 against the importation of spoiled hops. 
In 1830 there were 46,727 acres occupied in the culti- 
vation of hops in Great Britain. 

Of barley, there are now above thirty million bushels 
annually converted into malt in Great Britain ; and more 
than eight million barrels of beer, of which four-fifths 
are strong beer, are brewed yearly. This is a consump- 
tion, by the great body of the people, of a favourite 
beverage, which indicates a distribution of the national 
wealth, satisfactory by comparison with the general 
poverty of less advanced periods of civilization in our 
own country, and with that of less industrious nations in 
our own day. — Vegetable Substances used for Food. 

FAIR PLAY. 

A NOBLKMArt resident at a castle in Italy was about to cele* 
brate his marriage feast. All the elements were propitio»* 
except the ocean, which had been so boisterous as to deny 
the very necessary appendage of fish. On the very morning 
of the feast, however, a poor fisherman mad< pis nppearance, 
with a turbot so large, that it seemed to have bqen created 
for the occasion. Joy pervaded the castle, and the fisher- 
man was ushered with his prize into the saloon, where the 
nobleman, in the presence of his visitors,- requesteo^jiim to 
put what price he thought proper on the fish, and it should 
be instantly paid him. One hundred lashes, saidHhe fisher- 
man, on my bare back, is the price of my fish, and I will not 
bate one strand of whip-cord on the bargain. The noble- 
man and his guests were not a little astonished, but our 
chapman was resolute, and remonstrance was in vain. At 
length the nobleman exclaimed, Well, well, the fellow is a 
humourist, and the fish we must have, but lay on lightly, 
and let toe price be paid inx)ur presence. After fifty lashes 
had been administered, Hold, hold, exclaimed the fisherman, 
I have a partner in this business, and it is fitting that he 
should receivis his share. What, are there two such mad- 
caps in the world ? exclaimed the nobleman ; name him.-and 
he shall be sent for instantly. You need not go far for him, 
said the fisherman, you will find him at your gate, in the 
shape of your own porter, who would not let me in until I 
promised that he should have the half of whatever I received 
for my turbot. Oh, oh, said the nobleman, bring him up 
instantly, he shall receive his stipulated moiety with the 
strictest justice. This ceremony being finished, he dis- 
charged the porter, and amply rewarded the fisherman. 

Change* of Manners.— John Locke, the celebrated writer 
on the Hrtpatt Bfmd and on Government, mentions in his 
Journal, in the year 1679, the following as the amusements 
of London to be seen by a stranger :— " At Marebone and 
Putney he may see several persons of quality bowling two or 
three times a week all the summer ; wrestling, in Lincoln's 
Inn Field every evening all the summer ; bear and bull 
baftingf and sometimes prizes at the Bear-Garden ; shooting 
m the long-bow and stob-ball, in Tothill-fields/' 



— " In the most violent' storfh, when the wind, and the 
thunder, and the falling timber, are making the loudest and 
most incessant roar, if a man, either with his foot or his 
hand, breaks the smallest dry limb in the forest, the moose 
will hear it ; and though he does not always run, he ceases 
eating, and rouses his attention to all sounds. If in the 
course of an hour, or thereabouts, the man neither moves 
nor makes the least noise, the animal may begin to feec 
again, but does not forget what he has heard, and is ftK 
many hours more vigilant than before.'' 



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[March 3!, 



THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 

The greater number of our readers must have heard of 
the Zoological Gardens, in the Regent's Park, at London, 
which have been established about four years, and which 
now comprise the finest menagerie in the world, if we 
regard the number and variety of the animals. The 
expense of this establishment, which amounts to many 
thousand pounds a year, is maintained by the annual 
subscriptions of the Fellows of the Zoological Society, 
and (he payment (a shilling:) by each person who is 
recommended by the ticket of a proprietor. It is not our 
intention to give a description of all the various animals 
there ; but we shall from time to time notice any remark- 
able circumstance that occurs, as illustrative of their 
habits ; of we shall mention any new curiosity which is 
purchased by the Society, or presented to it. 

The Wapiti, in the Zoological Gardens, shed his im- 
mense horns on the 6th of February last. Their weight 
was twenty-one pounds five ounces. In 1831 he shed 
them on the 1st of February, when Hheir weight was 
twenty- three pounds two ounces. In captivity, therefore, 
the Wapiti shows no deviation from the law of nature, 
which he exhibits in hjs own American forests, — that he 
should shed his horns, or bony excrescences, every year. 
All the deer tribe are subject to this law. Already the 
new horns of the Wapiti are beginning rapidly to grow — 
at first looking like a soft velvety substance, and 
gradually getting harder and more branching, till they 
become the gigantic antlers, which within a year will 
drop off, again to be renewed. It is generally con- 
sidered that the horns of the deer tribe increase in size 
as tiff animal advances in age ; but in the individual 
instance of the Wapiti of the Zoological Gardens, the 
horns of 1832 weigh less, by one pound thirteen ounces, 
than those of 1831. * 



strength. Mr. Lloyd, in his Northern Field Sports, 
says, " he walks with facility on his hind legs, and in 
that position can bear the heaviest burthens." Indeed 
Mr. Neilson (a Swede) says, " a bear has been seen 
walking on his hinder feet along a small tree that 
stretched across a river, bearing a dead horse in hia 
fore-paws.'* 




[Horns of the Wapiti.] 



A very large bear, of the species called the Grizzly, has 
been recently brought to the Zoological Gardens. This 
is the largest and most ferocious of the bear tribe— the 
most terrible quadruped of North America, whom even 
the Indians, accustomed as they are to every danger, 
fly from and fear. He is exceedingly tenacious of life, 
and thus, if he encounters a single Indian, there is little 
chance of destroying him with the generally fatal rifle. 
Lewis and Clark, two enterprising travellers in the 
wildest regions of North America, describe an encounter 
with a bear of this species. Six hunters went to attack 
him : four fired, and each wounded him. The two who 
had reserved their fire, hit him when he sprang forward. 
Before they could again load, the fearful animal was 
upon them. They fled to a river : four were able again 
to fire, concealed behind a tree, and again hit him. He 
turned upon them, and they were obliged to throw them- 
selves into the water, from a bank twenty feet high. He 
took also to the water in chase of his hunters ; and had 
not one of the two men who remained on shore shot 
him through the head, the hindmost swimmer would at 
least" have rued the perilous adventure. 

The Brown Bear of the northern parts of Europe is 
not so ferocious as the Grizzly Bear, but of prodigious 



THE WEEK. 



cele- 
born 
child 
anxiety he showed to 
at his father used to 
He entered the army 
to serve for some years, 
natical and other stu- 
illustrative of the ex- 
iparently unfavourable 
Pursuit of Knowledge 
ted to be in garrison 



April 1. — The anniversary of the birth of the 
brated philosopher, Rene* Des Cartes, who was 
at La Haye, in Touraine, in 1596. When a 
he was so remarkable for the 
know t 
call hii 
when t 
but ze 
dies al 
tent of 
circum 
under 

with his regiment at the town ot Breda, in the Nether- 
lands, when, walking out one morning, he observed a 
crowd of people assembled around a placard or adver- 
tisement which was stuck up on the wall. Finding 
that it was written in the Dutch language, which he did 
not understand (for he was a native of Touraine, in 
France), he inquired of a person whom he saw reading 
it what it meant. The individual to whom he addressed 
his inquiries happened to be the Principal of the Uni- 
versity of Dort, a man of distinguished mathematical 
attainments ; and it was with something of a sneer that 
he informed the young officer, in reply to his question, 
that the paper contained the announcement of a 'difficult 
geometrical problem, of which the pronoser challenge) 

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the most able men of the city to attempt the solution. 
Not repulsed, however, by the tone and manner of the 
learned Professor, Des Cartes requested to be favoured 
with a translation of the placard, which he had no 
sooner received than he calmly remarked that he 
thought he should be able to answer the challenge. 
Accordingly next day he presented himself again before 
Beck man (that was the name of the Professor) with a 
complete solution of the problem, greatly to the asto- 
nishment of that distinguished person." At last Des 
Cartes left the army, and travelled through a great part 
of Europe, visiting England among other countries. He 
then fixed his residence in Holland, where he wrote the 
greater number of his works. They relate to meta- 
physics, geometry, and various departments of natural 
philosophy. He is now principally remembered for 
the impulse which his works gave to the study of 
metaphysics in Germany, and for his ideas being now, 
in a great degree, the foundation of what is called 
the Ideal School of Philosophy, as opposed to the 
Sensual, or Material. His celebrated axiom was " Co- 
gito ergo rum" (I think, therefore, I exist). His as- 
tronomical speculations were very singular and extra- 
vagant. He explained the constitution of the heavens 
by means of a multitude of vortices, or elementary 
whirlpools, of which the sun and every other fixed 
star, according to him, had one, forming as it were its 
system, and supporting and keeping in motion the other 
lighter bodies that circle round it. Notwithstanding 
these fancies, Des Cartes was a most profound and 
ingenious mathematician; and the science of optics is 
also greatly indebted to him.' Having been invited by 
Christina, Queen of Sweden, to take up his residence in 
Stockholm, he repaired to that capital in 1648 ; but died 
there of an inflammation of the lungs on the 11th of 
February, 1650, in the fifty-fourth year of his age. 

April 1. — AU-Fool$'»Day, like many other days that 
were once observed by most people, has no honours 
now but in the gaiety of school-boys. The old custom 
of sending individuals on this day on a fool's errand is 
not peculiar to England. Scotland has her April gowk, 
and France her Poisson d'Avril (April fish). It is pro- 
bable that the custom is a relic of a high and general 
Pagan festival, in which the wildest spirit of frolic ex- 
pressed the universal gladness. It is to be remembered 
that the year anciently began about the time of the vernal 
equinox, when the awakening of all the powers of na- 
ture from their wintry sleep— the leafing of trees, the 
budding of flowers, and the singing of birds*— made men 
look forward with joy to a season of long days and 
sunny skies. In simple ages rough jokes, given and 
taken without feelings of unkindness, form one of the 
most usual expressions of hilarity. There is a festival 
amongst the Hindoos, called the Hulu which is held in 
March, in honour of >servance of 

which«the practice of rands which 

are to end in disappc lent feature. 

This circumstance \ stom, which 

still remains with u i origin in 

remote ages, and i [ion source, 

accessible alike to tb< i. 

April 2. — On this uay, m uk year ivio, was bom at 
Folkstone, in Rent, Dr. William Harvey, the discoverer 
of the circulation of the blood. Harvey published this 
important discovery in 1620. Before this time it was 
universally believed that the arteries, or vessels through 
which the blood flows from the heart, did not contain 
blood at all, but only air ; and, indeed, the word artery 
was originally used to signify the windpipe, and an air- 
tube. The body, it was thought, was fed with blood 
entirely through the veins, which carried it at last to 
the heart, where it was in some way or other absorbed 
or drunk up. Thus, one of our old poets, Phineas 
Fletcher, in a curious allegorical poem, descriptive of 
the body and mind of man, which he entitles * The 



Purple Island,' written (although not published) before 
Harvey announced his discovery, gives the following 
account of the manner in which the body is watered and 
fertilized by the different channels that pervade it : — 

( [ Nor is there any part in all this land, ' 
. But is a little isle j for thousand brooks 
In azure channels glide on silver sand; 
Their serpent windings and deceiving crooks, 
Circling about and watering all the plain, 
Empty themselves into the all-drinking main, 
* And creeping forward slide, but ne'er return again** 

Nobody imagined that there was any circulation of 
the blood, till Harvey demonstrated that the same blood 
which the veins brought to the heart the arteries imme- 
diately carried away again from it. Harvey lived for 
many years to enjoy the glory of this discovery ; dying 
at Hampstead, in Essex, on the 3d of June, 1658, in 
the eighty-first year of his age. 



EXCELLENCE NOT LIMITED BY STATION. 

There is not a more common error of sell-deception 
than a habit of considering our stations in life so ill- 
suited to our powers, as to be unworthy of calling out a 
full and .proper exercise of j>ur virtues and talents. 

As ^society is constituted, there cannot be nany em- 
ployments which demand very brilliant talents, or great 
delicacy of taste, for their proper discharge. The great 
bulk of society is composed of plain, plodding men, who 
move " right onwards" to the sober duties oF their colling. 
At the same time the universal good demands that those 
whom nature has greatly endowed should be called from 
the ordinary track to take up higher and more enmjLling 
duties. England, happily for us, is full of bright 
examples of the greatest men raided from the meanest 
situations; ami the education which England is now 
beginning to bestow upon her children will multiply 
these examples. But a parjial and iicomplete diffusion 
of knowledge will also multiply the ictims of that evil 
principle which postpones the discharge of preseut and 
immediate duties, for the anticipations of some destiny 
above the labours of a handicraftsman, or the calculations 
of a shopkeeper. Years and experience, which afford us 
the opportunity of comparing our own powers with those 
of others, will, it is true, correct the inconsistent expecta- 
tions which arise,from a want of capacity to set the right 
value on ourselves. But the wisdom thus gained may 
come too late. The object of desire may be found de- 
cidedly unattainable, and existence is then wasted in a 
sluggish contempt of present duties; the spirit is broken ; 
the temper, is soured; habits of misanthropy and per- 
sonal neglect creep on ; and life eventually becomes a 
tedious and miserable pilgrimage of never-sat isfied de- 
sires. Youth, however, is happily not without its guide, 
if it will take a warning from example. Of the hiiihly- 
gifted men whose abandonment of their humble calling 
has been the apparent beginning of a distinguished career, 
we do not recollect an instance of one who did not pursue 
that humble calling with credit and success until the occa- 
sion presented itself for exhibiting tho>e superior powers 
which nature occasionally bestows. Benjamin Franklin 
was as valuable to his master as a printers apprentice, 
as he was to his country as a statesman and a negotiator, 
or to the world as a philosopher. Had he not been so, 
indeed, it may be doubted whether he ever would have 
taken his rank among the first statesmen and philosophers 
of his time. One of the great secrets of advancing in 
life is to be ready to take advantage of those opportu- 
nities which, if a man really possesses superior abilities, 
are sure to present themselves some time or other. At 
the poet expresses it, " There is a tide in the affairs of 
men," — an ebbing and flowing of the unstable element 
on which they are borne, — and if this be only " taken 
at the flood," t »e " full sea" is gained on which " the 
voyage of their »fe " may be made with ease and th* 
prospect of a happy issue. 



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[March 31 



But we should remember, that for those who are not 
ready to embark at the moment when their tide is at its 
flood, that tide may never serve again ; and nothing is 
more likely to be a hinderance at such a moment than 
the distress which is certain to follow a neglect of our 
ordinary business. 

ISAAC ASHFORD. 

[From Crabbe's Parish Register.] 

One of the most eminent of our modern poets died 
a few weeks ago, the Reverend George Crabbe. Mr. 
Crabbe was born in 1754, at Aldborough in Suffolk, 
and, consequently, at the time of his death, had reached 
the advanced age of seventy-eight Although his last 
work, his Tales of the Hall, in two volumes, was pub- 
lished so lately as 1819, he had been for many years by 
far the oldest of our living poets ; foriiis first production, 
The Library, was published so long ago as the year 1781. 
His poetical career, therefore, reckoning from this com- 
mencement to his death, had extended over more than 
the long space of half a century. A second poem, enti- 
tled The Village, however, which quickly followed the 
Library, was the only additional .work which he produced 
during the first half of this period. It was not till 1807 
that he again came before the world as an author, by the 
publication of two volumes of Poems, comprising the 
Parish Register and other pieces. This publication was 
followed by another poem, entitled The Borough, in 
1810; by-two volumes of Tales, in 1812; and, as already 
mentioned, by his ' Tales of the Hall,' the last work 
which he gave to the press, in 1819. Mr. Crabbe had 
been Rector of Trowbridge, in Wiltshire, for eighteen 
years before his death. 

Notwithstanding considerable peculiarities, and some 
obvious faults of manner, it is impossible to peruse any 
of Crabbe's productions without feeling yourself to be in 
the hands of a writer of great power, and a true poet. 
In some of his pieces he has displayed both a soaring 
imagination and a delicate sense of beauty ; but he is 
most popularly known as the poet of poverty and wretch- 
edness, — the stern explorer and describer of the deepest 
and darkest recesses of human suffering and crime. 
Perhaps he has occasionally painted the gloom of the 
regions in which he was thus accustomed to wander with 
somewhat of exaggeration ; but it would be easy to select 
abundant proof from his writings, that if he delineated 
with an unsparing pencil both the miseries and the vices 
of the poor, he could also sympathize with their enjoy- 
ments and estimate their virtues as cordially as any man 
that ever lived. The following passage from the Third 
Part of his Parish Register, that in which he reviews 
the list of burials, is an admirably drawn picture of a 
lofty character in humble life. The writer, it will be 
observed, speaks in the character of the clergyman of the 
parish. He has related the lives and deaths of two of his 
female parishioners, after which he proceeds thus : — 

Next to these ladies, but in nought allied, 
A noble peasant, Isaac AsA/ord, died; 
Noble he was, contemning all things mean, 
His truth unquestioned, and his soul serene. 
Of no man's presence Isaac felt afraid ; 
At no man's question Jtaac looked^ dismayed : 
Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace; 
Truth, simple truth, was written in his face: 
Yet while the serious thought his soul approved. 
Cheerful he seemed, and gentleness he loved. 
To bliss domestic he his heart resigned, 
And with the firmest, had the fondest mind : 
Were others joyful, he looked smiling on, 
And gave allowance where he needed none ; • 

Good he refused with future ill to buy, 
Nor knew a joy that caused reflection's sigh ; 
A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast 
No envy stung, no jealousy distressed ; 
Yet far was he from stoic pride remove*. 
He felt humanely, and he warmly love. . 
1 marked his action when his infant .. ed, 
And hit old neighbour for offence wil riil; 



The still tears, stealing down that furrowed cheek, 
Spoke pity, plainer than the tongue can speak. 
Ifpride were his, 'twas not their vulgar pride, 
Who, in their base contempt, the gveat deride ; 
Nor pride in learning, though my clerk agreed, 
If fate should carl him, Athford might succeed; 
Nor pride in rustic skill, although we knew 
None his superior, and his equals few : 
But if that spirit in his soul had place, 
It was the jealous pride that shuns disgrace ; 
A pride in honest fame, by virtue gained. 
In sturdy boys, to virtuous labours trained ; 
Pride in the power that guards his country's coast, 
And all that Englishmen enjoy and boast ; 
Pride in a life that slander's tongue defied, 
In fact, a noble passion, misnamed Pride. 

He had no party's rage, no sectary's whim ; 
Christian and countryman was all with him : 
True to his church he came ; no Sunday shower 
Kept him at home in that important hour ; 
Nor his firm feet could one persuading sect * 
By the strong glare of their new light direct ; 
' On hope, in mine own sober light, I gase, 
' But should be blind and lose it in your blase. 

In times severe, when many a sturdy swain 
Felt it his pride, his comfort, to complain, 
Isaac their wants would soothe, his own would hide, 
And feel in that his comfrrt and his pride. 

At length, he found, when seventy'years were run, 
His strength departed, and his labour done; 
When, save his honest fame, he kept no more, 
But lost his wife, and saw his children poor; 
Twas then a spark of — say not discontent — 
Struck on his inind, and thus he gave it vent:— 

* Kind are your laws ('tis not to be denied) 
' That in yon house for ruined age provide ; 
' And they are just ; — when young, we give you fell, 
' And then for comforts in our weakness call. 
1 Why then this proud reluctance to be fed, 
' To join your Poor and eat the Parish bread ? 

* But yet I linger, loathe with him to feed, 

{ Who gains his plenty by the sons of need ; 
1 He who, by contract, all your Paupers took, 
' And gauges stomachs with an anxious look! 
' On some old master I could well depend, 

* See him with joy, and thank him as a friend ; 
' But ill on him, who doles the day's supply, 

' And counts our chances, who at night may (he J 
' Yet help me, Heaven ! and let me not complain 
' Of what befalls me, but the fate sustain.' 

Such were his thoughts, and so resigned he £f£#» 
Daily he placed the Workhouse in his view ; 
But came not there ; for sudden was his fate, 
He dropt expiring at his cottage-gate. 

I feel his absence in the hours of prayer, 
And view hrs seat, and sigh for Isaac there ; 
I see no more those wttite looks thinly spread 
Round the bald polish of that honoured head ; _ 
No more that awful glance on playful wight, 
Compelled to kneel and tremble at the sight ; 
To fold his fingers, all in dread the while, 
Till Mister Anhford softened to a smile : 
No more that meek and suppliant look in prayer, 
Nor the pure fai|h (to give it force) are there ; 
But he is blest, and 1 jament no more 
A wise good "^tfUMgrted to be poor. 

SERMON. 




Mr. Dodd wwNa| Mho lived many years a$o a 

few miles from CJH Wr' ana " having several times 
been preaching agalfSWfenkenness, some of the Cam- 
bridge scholars (consde^rcS, which is sharper than ten 
thousand witnesses, being their monitor) were yery much 
offended, and thought he made reflections on them. Some 
little time after, Mr. Dodd was walking towards Cam- 
bridge, and met some of the gownsmen, who, as soon as 
they saw him at a distance, resolved to make some ridicule 
of him. As soon as he came up, they accosted him with 
u Your servant, sir !" He replied, " Your servant, gentle- 
men." They asked him if he had not been preaching very 
much against drunkenness of late ? He answered in the 
affirmative. They then told him they had a favour to beg 
of him, and it was that he would preach a sermon to them 
there, from a text they should choose. He argued that it 
was an imposition, for a man ought to have some consider- 
ation before preaching. They said they would not put up 
with a denial, and insisted upon his preaching immediateb 



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(in a hollow tree which stood by the road side) from the 
word M.A.L.T. He then began, «« Beloved, let me crave 
your attention. I am a little man— come at a short notice- 
to preach a short sermon — from a short text — to a thin 
congregation— in an unworthy pulpit Beloved, my text 
is Malt. I cannot divide it into sentences, therelteing none ; 
nor into words, there being but one ; I must therefore, of 
necessity, divide it into letters, which I find in my text to be 
these four— M.AX.T 

M— is Moral. 

A— is Allegorical. 

L— is Literal. 

T— is Theological. 

" The moral, is to teach y? rusticks good manners : 
therefore M— my Masters, A dl of you, L— Leave off, 
T— Tippling. 

" The Allegorical is, when - thing is spoken of, and 
another meant. The thing sp n of is Malt. The thing 
meant is the spirit of Mai vhich you rusticks make, 
M— your Meat, A— your A » -el, L— your Liberty, and 
T— your Trust. 

" The Literal is, according to the letters, M— Much, A — 
Ale, L— Little, T— Trust 

" The Theological is, according to the effects it works — in 
some, M— Murder— in others, A — Adultery— in all, L— - 
Looseness of Life, and in many, T— Treachery. 

"I shall conclude the subject, First, by way of Exhorta- 
tion. M— my Masters, A— Ail of you, L —Listen, T— To my 
Text Second, by way of Caution. M— my Masters, A — 
All of you, L— Look for, T— the Truth. Third, by way of 
communicating the Truth, which is this : — A Drunkard is 
the annoyance of modesty \ the spoil of civility ; the destruc- 
tion of reason ; the robber's agent ; the alehouses benefac- 
tor ; his wife's sorrow; his children's trouble; his own shame; 
his neighbour's scoff; a walking swill-bowl ; the picture of a 
beast; the monster of a man !" 



DESCRIPTION OF POLAND. 
The kingdom of Poland, which has lately been the 
theatre of so disastrous a war, was established in 1815, 
by the treaty of Vienna, and was composed of four terri- 
tories placed respectively under the following sovereign- 
ties, viz. : — • 

1. Galllcia ; assigned to Austria. 

2. Tfu (grand Ducky of Posen, including the Western 
Palat iftjlg[fl grdering on Silesia; surrendered to Prussia. 

3. Tm&$$y and district of Cracow ; constituted a 
free repubnefy and 

4. The remainder of ancient Poland, comprising the 
bulk of what was before the Grand Duchy of Warsaw ; 
made to revert to Russia. 

The kingdom was divided into eight Palatinates : viz., 
Masovia, Cracow, Sandomir, Kalisz, Lublin, Plotsk, and 
Angustowa. The population, according to the last census 
of 1829, was, exclusive of the army, 4,088,290, which 
have been thus classed : — 



Employed in agriculture (householders) 
Their families and servants . . . 
In manufactures • * . 
Their femilies . . . 
Tradesmen .... 
Their families . 
Landed Proprietors . 
Copyholders .... 
^Freeholders in towns . . - . m . , 
Smployed under government • . • 
Patients in the 592 public hospitals 
Prisoners in the 76 prisons .... 



1,871,259 

2,221,188 

140,377 

358,035 

49,888 

131,331 

4,205 

1,886 

41,654 

8,414 

5,376 

7,926 



The population of the towns is, to that of the country, as 
one to five. The towns are small and far removed from 
each other, which has been a main cause of retarding the 
progress of civilization, copamerce, and manufactures. 
There are only thirteen tojn in Poland containing up- 
wards of 10,000 people eaCrV* viz., Warsaw, containing 
about 120,000 ; Dantzic, about 50,000 ; Wilna, 30,000 ; 
^ernberg, 29,000; Cracow, 28,000; Kiev, 20,000; 
Posen, 20,000; Brady, 1 5,000 ; Witepsk, 13,000; Lublin, 
13,000, Mahile^ 12,»00 ; Kalisch, 12,000 ; Kharkof, 



11,000 ; the population of the whole thirteen being 
equalled by the aggregate population of three or four of 
the Lancashire or Yorkshire towns. The maps contain 
a multitude of names "of miserable wooden villages, inha- 
bited merely by the peasant cultivators of the soil, and by 
a few shop-keeping Jews. Of the 451 towns. of the 
kingdom, 353 are more than half, and 83 wholly, of 
wood ; and but a very few towns contain a supply of the 
ordinary articles of consumption by persons in easy cir- 
cumstances. The common articles of ladies' wearing 
apparel are obliged to be procured either from Warsaw 
or Vienna, and it is common, in great families, to keep 
memorandum-books, in which the inmates of the family 
enter their wants, from time lo time, which are supplied 
altogether at.intervals of some months. In respect of 
all those comforts and conveniences of life which denote 
the progress of refinement, Poland is, perhaps, behind all 
other nations of Christian Europe. 

The rate of increase of the Polish population, since 
1815, has been stated at 100,000 individuals annually, 
or about two and a half per cent. 

The Catholic ; religion is specially protected by the 
government, without imposing any disabilities on the 
members of other faiths. The Catholic establishment 
consists of an archbishop of Warsaw, eight bishops, and 
2,740 clergy. The Qreek Catholics have a bishop, and 
354 priests. Next to the Roman Catholics, however, 
the Jews are of the most importance, and their numbers 
are stated to be fast increasing. They have of late been 
very unpopular, and have been charged with many mal- 
practices, in monopolizing trade, and otherwise. The 
native writers have, for some time past, been in the habit 
of reproaching them as the ruin of their country, but 
sometimes, possibly, with more prejudice than reason. 
The religious statistics are as follows : — 

Roman Catholics 3,400,000 

Greek Church 100,000 

Lutherans 150,000 

Calvinists 5,000 

Jews 400,000 

Other Sects 5,000 

v 4,060,000 

The class of nobles in Poland is to that of the plebeians 
as one to thirteen. But this class is composed of persons 
of such various degrees of wealth, that the poorer nobles 
are often glad to be employed as stewards by the richer, 
and their wives and daughters take occupations as humble 
as nurses and ladies* maids. The peasantry are still in a 
state of modified slavery, or villeinage, cultivating the land 
for the benefit of their lords, and not being allowed to 
Temove from it without giving up their tenements. They 
are assigned a certain portion of the produce of the estate; 
the whole live and dead stock upon which belongs to 
the landlord, who lends the use thereof to the peasants, 
compelling them to take care of, and account for, it The 
peasantry in the Grand Duchy of Warsaw have been 
nominally emancipated ; but their condition has hitherto 
hardly been sensibly ameliorated thereby. 

The exports of Poland consist chiefly of corn, cattle, 
timber, and other articles of raw produce ; and the im- 
ports are wines, colonial produce, and articles of luxury. 
The manufactures of woollen cloth, linens, carpets, and 
leather have increased since 1815, and the breweries and 
distilleries are on a very extensive scale. Agriculture is, 
however, by for the largest source of occupation for the 
people ; but suffers, at the present time, from a depres- 
sion of prices, and has permanently to contend against 
the effects of a six months' winter of frost and snow. 
The proximity to the cold regions of Russia, and the ex- 
posure to the sharp north-east winds from Siberia and 
the polar regions, render the climate incomparably colder 
than that of England, though the situation of Poland is 
not more northward. In the summer the heat is very 
great, the forests obstructing the free circulation of air. 



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Power of Steam.— It is on (he rivers, and the boatman 
may repose on his oars , it is in highways, and begins to 
exert itself along the courses of land-conveyance ; it is at 
the bottom of mines, a thousand feet below the earth's 
surface; it is in the mill, and in the workshops of the trades. 
It rows, it pumps, it excavates, it carries, it draws, it lifts, 
it hammers, it spins, it weaves, it prints.-— From Webster's 
Lectures. • 

A Popular Error. — It is not at all an uncommon thing 
for even well-informed people to consider one event the 
cause of another, because the one has immediately preceded 
the other in the order of time. A curious instance of this 
error occurred in the last century. The fish, on which many 
of the inhabitants of Norway depended for subsistence, sud- 
denly vanished from their coasts ; the practice of inoculation 
for tne small-pox had just then been introduced, and was 
instantly fixed upon as the cause of the calamity; and as the 
people considered the risk of that disorder a trifle in compa- 
rison with starvation, nothing could exceed their righteous 
indignation against all who undertook to prevent their taking 
the small-pox. 

Instruction and Amusement are more blended than the 
world in general is apt to imagine. Uninstructive amuse- 
ment may be afforded for a moment by a passing jest or a 
ludicrous anecdote, by which no knowledge is conveyed to 
the mind of the hearer or the reader ; but the man who 
would amuse others for an hour, either by his writing or his 
conversation, must tell his hearers or his readers something" 
that they do not-knovv, or suggest to them some new reflection 
upon the knowledge they have previously acquired. The 
more the knowledge bears upon their pursuits, upon their 
occupations, or upon their interests, the more attractive it 
will be, and the more entitled to be called useful. 

The Secret of great Workers.— "ML. Dumont, in his ' Re- 
collections of Mirabeau,' the leading orator of the French. 
Revolution, thus describes the persevering industry of our 
illustrious countryman, Sir Samuel Romilly: — "Romilly, 
always tranquil and orderly, has an incessant activity. He 
never loses a minute : he applies all his mind to what he is 
about. Like the hand of a watch, he never stops, although 
his equal movements in the same way almost escape obser- 
vation ." 

Devotion of a great Mind to its Duties. — Milton, the 
poet of Paradise Lost, who, during an active life in the most 
troublesome times, was unceasing in the cultivation of his 
understanding, thus describes his own habits : — " Those 
morning haunts are where they should be, at home; not 
sleeping or concocting the surfeits of an irregular feast, but 
up and stirring ; in winter, often ere the sound of any bell 
awake men to labour or devotion ; in summer as oft with 
t the*bird that first rouses, or not much tardier, to read good 
authors, or cause them to be read, till the attention be weary, 
or memory have its full fraught ; then with useful and gene- 
rous labours preserving the body's health and hardiness, to 
render lightsome, clear, and not lumpish obedience to the 
mind, to the cause of religion and our country's liberty." 



A friend called on Michael Angelo, who was finishing a 
statue. Some time afterwards he called again ; the sculptor 
was still at his work. His friend, looking ai the figure, ex- 
claimed, You have been idle since I saw you last By no 
means, replied the sculptor, I have retouched this part, and 
polished that ; I have softened this feature, and brought out 
this muscle ; I have given more expression to this lip, and 
more energy to this limb. Well, well, said his friend, but all 
these are trifles. It maybe so, replied Angelo, but recollect 
that trifles make perfection, and that perfection is no trifle. 



An era it fast approaching, when no writer will be read 
by the great majority, save and except those who can effect 
that for bales of manuscript, that the hydrostatic screw 
performs for bales of cotton, by condensing that matter into 
a period that before occupied a page.— Cotton, 

Two painters undertook a portrait of Hannibal ; one of 
them painted a full likeness of him, and gave him two eyes, 
whereas disease had deprived him of one. The other painted 
him in profile, but with his blind side from the spectators. 
He severely reprimanded the first, but handsomely rewarded 
the second. 

The petty sovereign of an insignificant tribe in North 
America every morning stalks out of his hovel, bids the sun 
good morrow, and points out to him with his finger the 
course he is to take for the day. 

When the air-balloon was first discovered, some one flip- 
pantly asked Dr. Franklin what was the use of it ? The 
doctor answered this question by asking another : " What 
is the use of a new-born infant ? It may become a man.** 

The Chinese affect to despise European ingenuity, but 
they cannot mend a common watch ; when it is out of order 
♦hey say it is dead, and barter it away for a living one. 



A POSTSCRIPT TO OUR FIRST READERS. 

It is said that amongst ti . Mahomedans the following 
curious custom is obscrv. : — They never destroy any 
fragment of paper, howe r small,' which chance may 
place in their way. For t s custom, which may appear 
in its practice to be riclicu us, a remarkable reason is 
assigned : — " It is the dut\ say the Mahomedan teach- 
ers, " of every true believe ^ throw away no opportunity 
of communicating to his fellow-creatures a knowledge of 
the one God and of his Prophet. The few words which 
express the short and comprehensive article of our faith 
may be written on any the smallest fragment of paper: 
let not true believers lose this opportunity which Allah him 
self presents to them ! neglect not, destroy not that frag 
ment Let the word of the Prophet be written upon it, and 
the winds of Heaven will, under the direction of Provi- 
dence, convey it into the hand of some one whose memory 
needs to be refreshed from the fountain of Truth, ol whose 
mind's eye hath not seen the light of Heaven.*' 

In the desire, and certainly in the power of enlighten- 
ing their fellow-creatures, the Christian need fear no 
comparison with the Mahomedan world; but, in the 
mode of accomplishing this object, the custom alluded to 
affords a lesson for study, and an example for imitation. 

By a Society which has undertaken the task of contri- 
buting; as far as lies in its power, to the diffusion of use- 
ful knowledge, no means shojld be neglected by which 
instructive amusement can be afforded. Timid (although 
well-meaning) persons might perhaps be inclined to cen- 
sure such a society, should it set the example of applying 
the powers of the press to the production of a Penny 
Periodical Magazine. They might object that the in- | 
strument which is intended for good might be used for 
evil ; that publications in form so cheap as to be accessi- 
ble to the lowest class of readers, would soon fall into the 
hands of the lowest class of writers. We doubt this, 
although we know.it is the opinion of many excellent * 
persons; we have good and substantial reasons to assign 
for our doubts, but into those reasons we shall not now 
enter ; the time for them is past. The evil (if it be an 
evil)Js already in being. The demand of the public has 
already called into existence penny periodical publica- 
tions, of which eight or ten have established a regu- 
lar sale. It will be cheering intelligence to those who 
would have dissuaded from this undertaking, that the 
most noxi< en hitherto the least suc- 

cessful. 1 open. Through its course 

wiust flow rmatton conveyed to the 

minds of ng class of readers. We 

are called upuu w poor miu it, as far as we are able, 
clear waters from the pure and healthy springs of know- 
ledge. That duty we will not neglect : in the attempt 
to fulfil it we think that we ought not to fail. . 

The success of our undertaking will be the measure of 
its utility. 

LONDON:— CHARLR3 KN10HX PALLMaLL EAST. 

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied fFhotesale by the fellewing 
Booksellers:— • 



Ijondon, Qsoou bsidoe, Psny tr Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Bitmnoham, Drake. 
L*«l$, Baihes sad Co. 
Liverpool, Wiixmes sod Sun*. 



Manchester, RoniKsoM. 
Dublin, Wakemah. 
Edinburgh, Olives mod Bora* 
Glasgow, Atxx*i»* sad Co. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[April 7, 1899. 



POMPEII. 



[Restored View of Pompeii.] 

%* The volume on * Pompeii/ lately published in the Library of 
Entertaining Knowledge, contains every authentic detail of the 
destruction of that city by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, a.d. 79 ; 
and the second voUuu 1 , which will be shortly published, will com- 
plete the description of the remains of public and private build- 
ings, and of articles of domestic use, which have been discovered 
in the ruins. The following observations on this interesting subject 
a/e from an intelligent correspondent, who has had the advantage 
of visiting the spot. 

It is certainly surprising, that this most interesting city 
should have remained undiscovered until so late a period, 
and that antiquaries and learned men should have so 
long and materially erred about its situation. In many 
places masses of ruins, portions of the buried theatres, 
temples, and houses were not two feet below the sur- 
face of the soil; the country people were continually 
digging up pieces of worked marble, and other antique 
objects ; in several spots they had even laid open the 
outer walls of the town ; and yet men did not find out 
what it was, that peculiar, isolated mound of cinders 
and ashes, earth and pumice-stone, covered. There is 
another circumstance which increases the wonder of' 
Pompeii remaining so long concealed. A subterranean 
canal, cut from the river Sarno, traverses the city, and is 
seen darkly and silently gliding on under the temple of 
Las. This is said to have been cut towards the middle 
of the fifteenth century, to supply the contiguous town of 
the Torre dell'Annunziata with fresh water ; it probably 
ran anciently in the same channel. But, cutting H, or 
clearing it, workmen must have crossed under Pompeii 
from one side to the other. 

As you walk round the walls of the city, and see how 
the volcanic matter is piled upon it in one heap, it looks 
as though the hand of man had Durooselv buried it, by 
carrying and throwing ovei itter. This 

matter does not spread ii beyond the 

town, over the fine plain u tes towards 

the bay of Naples. The \ ras so con- 

fined in its course or its 1 >mpeii, and 

only Pompeii : for the shower or asnes ana pumice-stone 
trluch descended in the immediate neighbourhood cer- 
tainly made but a slight difference in the elevation of 
the plain. 

Where a town has been buried by lava, like Hercu- 
laneum, the process is easily traced. You can follow the 
black, hardened lava from the cone of the mountain to 
the sea, whose waters it invaded for " many a rood," and 
those who have seen the lava in its liquid state, when it 
flows on like a river of molten iron, can conceive at once 
how it would bury every thing it found in its way. 
There is often a confusion of ideas, among those who 
have not had the advantages of visiting these interesting 
places, as to the matter which covers Pompeii and Her- 
culaneum : they fancy they were both buried by lava, 

"Vol. I 



Herculaneum was so, and the work of excavating there, 
was like digging in a quarry of very hard stone. Tha 
descent into the places cleared is like the descent into a 
quarry or mine, and you are always under ground, 
lighted by torches. 

But Pompeii was covered by loose mud, pumice-stone, 
and ashes, over which, in the course of centuries, there 
collected vegetable soil. Beneath this shallow soil, the 
whole is very crumbly and easy to dig, in few spots more 
difficult than one of our common gravel-pits. The mat- 
ter excavated is carried off in carts, and thrown oiitside 
of the town ; and in times when the labour is carried on 
with activity, as cart after cart withdraws with the earth 
that covered them, you see houses entire, except their 
roofs, which have nearly always fallen in, make their 
appearance, and, by degrees, a whole street opens to the 
sun-shine or the shower, just like the streets of any in- 
habited neighbouring town. It is curious to observe, 
as the volcanic matter is removed, that the houses are 
principally built of lava, the more ancient product of the 
same Vesuvius, whose later results buried and concealed 
Pompeii for so many ages. * 



[Implements of building found at Pompeii.] 

In the autumn of 1822 I saw Pompeii under very 
interesting circumstances. It was a few days after an 
eruption of Vesuvius, which I had witnessed, and which 
was considered by far the grandest eruption of recent 
times. From Portici, our road was coated with lapilla 
or pumice-stone, and a fine impalpable powder, of a 
palish grey hue, that had been discharged from the 
mountain, round whose base we were winding. In many 
places this coating was more than a foot deep, but it was 
pretty equally spread, not accumulating in any particu- 
lar spot As we drove into Pompeii our carriage wheels 
crushed this matter, which contained the principal com- 
ponents of what had buried the city : it was lodged on 
4he edges of -the houses' walls, and on their roofs, (where 
the Neapolitan government had furnished them with 
any) ; it lay inches thick on the tops of the pillars and 
truncated columns of the ancient temples ; it covered all 
the floors of the houses that had no roofs, and concealed 
the mosaics. In the amphitheatre, where we sat down 
to refresh ourselves, we were obliged to make the guides 
clear it away with shovels — it was everywhere. Looking 
from the upper walls of the amphitheatre, we saw the 
whole country covered with it — trees and all were coated 
with the pale-grey plaster, nor did it disappear for many 
months after. 

Some ignorant fellows at Naples pretended the fine, 
or powder, contained gold! Neapolitans began 



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to collect it. They found no'gold, but it turned out to 
be an excellent thing for cleaning and polishing plate. 

This dust continued to be blown from the mountain 
many days after the eruption had ceased. It once made 
a pretty figure of me ! I was riding up the Posilippo road 
when it came on to rain ; the rain brought down and 
gave consistency to the dust, which adhered to my black 
coat and pantaloons, until I looked as if I had been 
rolled in plaster of Paris. 

But it travelled farther than Posilippo, for a friend of 
mine, an officer in the navy, assured me it had fallen 
with rain on the deck of his ship, when between three 
and four hundred miles from Naples and Mount Vesu- 
vius. There is an old story, that during one of the great 
eruptions of this mountain, or Etna, cinders were thrown 
as far as Constantinople : by substituting the fine powder 
I have alluded to, for cinders, the story becomes not im- 
probably C. M. 

VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. 
[Concluded from our last.] 
The island of Van Diemen's Land lies immediately to 
the south of the vast continent of New Holland, from 
which it is separated by the narrow channel called Bass's 
Strait. If New Holland be regarded as a great full bag 
or sack, Bass's Strait wilhrepresent the neck, where it is 
drawn together and tied close, and Van Diemen's Land 
the small bunch or gathering made beyond the string 
by the mere lip of the sack. While New Holland is 
rather more than half as large as all Europe, the extent 
of Van Diemen's Land is only about twenty- three thou- 
sand square miles, which is not much more than two- 
thirds of the size of Ireland, or a fourth part of that of 
the island of Great Britain. The one, in fact, is about 
eighty times as large as the other. 

One of the papers in the Van Diemen's Land Alma- 
nac presents us with a very full geographical description 
of the island. It was divided soon after its settlement 
into* two great counties, Buckinghamshire, embracing the 
southern, and Cornwall, the northern portion of it. But 
the division which is now chiefly recognised, is that made 
in 1827 into eight Police districts, each under the charge 
of a paid magistrate. In the first of these, occupying 
the south-west corner of the island, stands Hobart Town, 
the capital, on the river Derwent, and about twenty miles 
from its mouth. The river, however, is, even at this dis- 
tance from the sea, of considerable width, and the water 
is quite salt. The town stands upon a gently rising 
ground, and covers rather more than a square mtte. Its 
streets are wide, and intersect each other at right angles. 
It contains several government buildings, a parish 
church, and other places of worship ; a government 
school for the poor, and several Sunday schools ; two 
public banks ; and several libraries. Among its manu- 
factories Hobart Town possesses a distillery, several 
breweries and tanneries, two timber mills, several flour 
mills worked by steam and water, and two or three soap 
and candle works. The population of the town and 
suburbs, including the convicts and the military, is above 
seven thousand. This, we believe, is about half the 
amount of the whole population of the island. 

The other towns already founded in Van Diemen's 
Land, are, Launceston, on the river Tamar, about a 
hundred and twenty miles north from the capital, con- 
tain ing about a thousand inhabitants ; New Norfolk, or 
Elizabeth Town, a place of considerable traffic, and also 
the centre of a rich agricultural district, standing on the 
Derwent, about twenty-two miles higher up than Hobart 
Town \ Richmond, fourteen miles from the capital ; 
Sorell Town, or Pitt Water, and Brighton, two other 
townships in the same vicinity ; Bothwell, Oatlands, 
Campbell Town, Ross, Perth, and George Town, all 
considerably advanced settlements. Many other stations, 
however, have been marked out for towns, although 
•carcely yet begun to be built upon. Numerous farm- 



houses, also, and other detached residences, many of 
them standing in the midst of enclosed fields, gardens, 
and orchards, have been built in all directions. \ single 
agricultural association, called the Van Diemen's Land 
Company, possess a continuous tract of above three hun- 
dred thousand acres, in the north-west part of the island. 
About four hundred and fifty persons reside on this pro- 
perty. There are two government settlements for persons 
convicted of crimes in the colony, Macquarie Harbour on 
the west coasV and Maria Island on the east. 

The face of the country, though extremely diversified, 
is mountainous on the whole, and, especially as seen 
from the south, presents a prospect of singular sublimity; 
hills covered to the ridge with trees, occasionally inter- 
mingled with a bare rocky eminence, appearing to rise 
behind each other in endless succession. Some of the 
mountains on the south coast are five thousand feet in 
height, and during a great part of the year are covered 
with snow. Mount Wellington, or the Table Mountain, 
a few miles to the west of Hobart Town, rises to the 
height of four thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
The interior, however, contains many extensive plains 
quite unencumbered with wood. Even the western 
coast, where the scenery in general is bold and desolate, 
presents many protected aud fertile spots. The bays 
and harbours around the coast are numerous and excel- 
lent. In this respect Hobart Town especia\ y is most 
favourably situated. The principal rivers are the Derwent, 
the Huon, and the Tamar, all navigable. The Derwent, 
even at New Norfolk, above forty miles from the sea, is 
as wide as the Thames at Battersea. The scenery on 
both sides of this noble stream is described as being o* 
the richest beauty. The second-rate and inferior rivers 
are numerous, fertilizing every part of the country, and 
falling into the sea along the whole extent of the coast. 
Ill the heart of the island are several lakes, from which 
many Of the rivers take their rise. 

Much of the native timber of Vau Diemen's Land is 
excellent for all building purposes ; and others of the 
woods are esteemed for ornamental cabinet-work. All 
the trees are evergreens. The shrubs are of great variety 
and beauty ; but present as yet an almost unexamined 
field to the botanist. As to fruits, none of any value 
have been found native to this island ; but on the other 
hand, every sort of fruit, herb, or vegetable, that grows 
in England, grows still better here. 

In respect of climate, Van Diemen's Land enjoys the 
happiest medium between the extremes of heat and cold, 
the thermometer rarely falling below 40 degrees in winter, 
or rising above 70 degrees in summer. During the winter 
months of June, July, and August, the frosts are some 
times severe, and occasionally a good deal of snow falls ; 
but it is seldom that snow lies on the ground a whole day. 

Coal has been found in various places ; iron-stone is 
believed to be abundant: lime-stone also exists in great 
plenty ; and ii able that the earth is en- 

riched with v lineral treasures. Of the 

native animal rmidable is the hyena, by 

which many o lestroyed. Wild dogs and 

cats of differen j found in the woods. The 

kangaroo is now rasi aisappearing, having, although a 
perfectly harmless animal, been much hunted by the set- 
tlers for sport, or for the sake of its flesh and skin. 
There are numerous species of birds, many of them of 
beautiful plumage. Various descriptions of fish also 
abound in the bays and creeks ; but, except eels, the 
lakes and rivers supply very few that are valuable ag 
food. Of the reptiles found in the island, the principal 
are snakes, some of which are extremely venomous. 

Such is an abstract of what is most important in the 
paper before us, which is followed by a more minute 
description of the parts of the island that have been 
brought into cultivation, in the form of an itinerary. 
We will now add a very few facts, selected from another 
paper, on the agriculture and horticulture of the colony 



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The first cattle were brought to Van Diemen's Land 
in 1807. They were " a coarse buffalo sort of animal :" 
but, about nine or ten years ago, superior breeds began 
to be imported from England, and the colony now pos- 
sesses pure Devons, Herefords, Durhams, Holdernesses, 
Fifeshires, &c. Horses were at first brought from New 
Holland ; but, "in the same manner as with neat cattle," 
says this account, " they have since had the benefit of 
very superior crosses of English importations, and the 
colony can now boast as fine horses as even England 
itself. It has* every sort, perhaps, that is known in the 
mother-country, from the heavy dray-horse to the di- 
minutive pony, and including, what should by no means 
be passed in silence, blood and bone upon which thou- 
sands have been depending at Newmarket and other 
English race- courses." Sheep, for which both the cli- 
mate and natural herbage of the country are well 
adapted, are now numerous and rapidly improving in 
quality. Pigs and poultry, of every description, thrive 
admirably. Most sorts of grain that are common in 
England, grow at least as well here. The wheat is of 
excellent quality, seldom weighing less than from sixty-two 
to sixty-four pounds per bushel. Barley and oats pro- 
duce well upon good land ; but will not answer on infe- 
rior soils. The average return yielded by the potato is not 
equal to what it yrelds in England ; but the cultivation 
of this root is yet in its infancy. Turnips and mangel- 
wurzel are both fouud to do extremely well. The same 
m%y be said of English grasses and pulses of all sorts. 

The export trade from this colony has, as yet, been 
confined to the mure useful articles. Corn is sent to 
New South Wales, and to Swan River. Wool is already 
exported in considerable quantities, and is likely to be- 
come every year more and more the staple production of 
the island. Whale-fishing and the manufacture of oil are 
rapidly becoming trades of considerable importance. A 
good deal of mimosa bark, for tanning, is also sent to Eng- 
land ; and salt meats, hides, and dairy produce will pro- 
bably soou be added to the list of exported commodities. 
The regulations at present in force for the disposal of 
land, by grant or sale, were issued in 1828. The main 
principle upon which they are grounded is, that " settlers 
should not receive a greater extent of land than they are 
capable of improving, and that grants should not be 
made to persons who are desirous only of disposing of 
them." Lands are accordingly granted in square miles, 
in the proportion of one square mile, or 640 acres, for 
every £b00 sterling of capital which the applicant can 
immediately command. Of this capital, however, a por- 
tion may consist of live stock and instruments of hus- 
bandry. Upon the land thus granted a quit-rent is 
imposed at the rate of £b per cent, on the estimated 
value of the land, the payment to commence at the ex- 
piration of seven years from the date of the grant, when 
the settler will also receive his title-deeds. The smallest 
quantity of land granted in this wav to an individual is 
320 acres, and the larg square 

miles. Lands may alsc being 

advertised for that pu person 

making the highest ten< 

We will, in conclusion, mention a few of the more in- 
teresting particulars, supplied by the various lists in the 
little volume before us ; these are indicative of the rapid 
progress of civilization. In addition to the three banks 
in Hobart Town we find a fourth, called the Cornwall 
bank, established at Launceston. There is at Hohart 
Town a Mechanics' Institute, of which the Governor is 
patron, and the Chief Justice, president. Among the 
religious and philanthropio % institutions of this capital are, 
a Bible Society, of which the Governor is president ; a 
Presbyterian Missionary Society ; a Wesleyan Missionary 
Society ; a Benevolent and Strangers' Friend Society ; 
and a Sunday School Union, having four schools in its 
connexion, containing in all about 250 children. Be- 
sides the Government Gazette, there are three other 



weekly newspapers published in Hobart Town, and a 
fourth at Launceston. The Almanac closes with a 
Directory for Hobart Town; in which, besides mer- 
chants, general dealers, official, clerical,' and other pro- 
fessional characters, we find the names of civil engineers, 
livery-stable keepers, watchmakers, midwives, shoe- 
makers, bricklayers, milliners, portrait painters, and 
engravers, chemists and druggists, pastry-cooks, confec- 
tioners, glaziers, plumbers, house and sign painters, 
hatters, upholsterers, cabinet-makers and undertakers, 
coopers, boat-builders, auctioneers, goldsmiths, and work- 
ing-jewellers, music teachers, tailors, butchers, brewers, 
hosiers and glovers, ironmongers, brass and iron foun- 
ders, tinmen and blacksmiths, printers, saddlers, bakers, 
hair-dressers. It would be curious to compare this list 
with the population of an English town of seven thousand 
people three centuries ago ! 



LOST CAMEL. 



A dkrvisb was journeying alone in the desert, when two 
merchants suddenly met him : " You have lost a camel/' 
said he to the merchants. " Indeed we have," they replied. 
" Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his left leg ?" 
said tfee dervfse. " He was," replied the merchants. " Had 
he lost a front tooth ?" said the dervise. " He had," rejoined 
the merchants. " And was he not loaded with honey on one 
side, and wheat on the other ?" "Most certainly he was,'* 
they replied ; " and as you have seen him so lately, and 
marked him so particularly, you can, in all probability, con- 
duct us unto him." " My friends," said the derrise, •' I have 
never seen your camel, nor ever heard of him, but from you." 
" A pretty story, truly !" said the merchants, " but where are 
the jewels, which formed a part of his cargo?" "I have 
neither seen your camel nor your jewels," repeated the der- 
vise. On this, they seised his person, and forthwith hurried 
him before the Cadi, where, on the strictest search, nothing 
could be found upon him, nor could any evidence whatever 
be adduced to convict him, either of falsehood or of theft. 
They were then about to proceed against him as a sorcerer, 
when the dervise, with great calmness, thus addressed the 
Court : " I have been much amused with your surprise, and 
own that there has been some ground for your suspicions ; 
but I have lived long, and alone ; and I can find ample scope 
for observation, even in a desert I knew that I had crossed 
the track of a camel that had strayed from its owner, because 
I saw no mark of any human footstep on the same route ; 
I knew that the animal was blind in one eye, because it had 
cropped the herbage only on one side of its path ; and I per- 
ceived that it was Tame in one leg, from the faint impression 
which that particular foot had produced upon the sand ; I 
concluded that the animal had lost one tooth, because wher- 
ever it had grazed, a small tuft of herbage was left uninjured 
in the centre of its bite. A s to that which formed the burden 
of the beast, the busy ants informed me that it was corn on 
the one side, and the clustering flies that it was honey on 
the other." 



Science preceding Art. — When the principles of any 
science are become common to all the world, these prin- 
ciples lead to inventions, nearly, if not altogether similar, 
by different persons having no communication with each 
other. A remarkable instance of this is given by Judge 
Story, in his address to the Boston Mechanics' Institute : — 

" A beautiful improvement had been made in the double- 
speeder of the cotton-spinning machine by one of our in- 
genious countrymen. The originality of the invention was 
established by the most satisfactory evidence. The defen- 
dant, however, called an Englishman as a witness, who had 
been but a short time in the country, and who testified most 
explicitly to the existence of a like invention in the improved 
machinery in England. Against such positive proof there 
was much difficulty in proceeding. The testimony, though 
doubted, could not be discredited ; and the trial was post- 
poned to another term, for the purpose of procuring evi- 
dence to rebut it. An agent was despatched to England 
for this and other objects ; and, upon his return, the plaintiff 
was content to become nonsuited. There was no doubt 
that the invention here was without any suspicion of its 
existence elsewhere ; but the genius of each country, almost 
at the same moment, accomplished, independently, the saim 
achievement," 



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[April 7, 



The little dormouse has now awakened from his fitful 
sleep. . When the winds of March sweep away the linger- 
ing fogs of winter, — when the tender buds are first seen 
on the trees,*and the primrose first shows its head in the 
green banks — before the swallow comes to our shores, or 
the rook has finished her nest — the dormouse rouses up 
from the bed where he has slept for several months. 
His sleep, however, is not constant through the cold 
season, like that of some other animals ; for he wakes, at 
times, to eat of the store of nuts and beech-mast which he 
has provided for his sustenance in the autumn. The 
marmot, a quadruped inhabiting some mountainous parts 
of Europe, makes no provision of this kind in his sub- 
terranean galleries. He sleeps completely. 

M. Mungili, an Italian naturalist, made some curious 
experiments upon the dormouse and other an i mats which 
sleep during the cold weather. He kept the dormouse 
in a cupboard in his study. On the 24th December, 
when t!he thermometer was about 40°, that is 8° abdve 
the freezing point, the dormouse curled himself up 
amongst a heap of papers and went to sleep. On the 
27th December, when the thermometer was several 
degrees lower, M. Mangili ascertained that the animal 
breathed, and suspended his respiration at regular inter- 
vals ; — that is, that after four minutes of perfect repose, 
in which he appeared as if dead, he breathed about 
twenty-four times in the space of a minute and a half, 
and that then his breathing was again completely 
suspended, and again renewed. As the thermometer 
became higher, that is, as the weather became less cold, 
the intervals of repose were reduced to three minutes. 
On the contrary, when the thermometer fell nearly to the 
freezing point, the intervals were then six minutes. 
Within ten days from its beginning to sleep (the weather 
then being very cold), the dormouse woke and ate a 
little. He then went to sleep again ; and continued to 
sleep for some days, and then to awaken, throughout 
the winter ; but as the season advanced, the intervals of 
perfect repose, when no breathing could be perceived, 
were much longer, sometimes more than twenty minutes. 
The effects of confinement upon this individual animal 
caused him to sleep much longer than in a state of 
nature. 

When a dormouse is discovered asleep, in his natural 
retreat, he is cold to the touch, his eyes are shut, and his 
respiration is slow and interrupted, as just described. 
Torpid animals, in general, when thus found, may be 
shaken, or rolled, or even struck, without a possibility of 
arousing them. But as the fine weather advances, the 
aeat of their bodies increases, as it decreases at the 



" es of winter ; till at length they shake off their 
>s, and are again the busy and happy inhabitants 
ds and gardens, active in the search of food to 
eir appetite, which is now as keen as it was dull 
d months. These movements of course depend 
states of the atmosphere, and are different in 
Is of the same species. 

THE SWALLOW. 

vallow, and other birds of passage — that is, 
i fly from one country to another, as the weather 
tinsuited to their natures — now begin to return 
lie swallow is a general favourite. He comes 
u nature is putting on her most smiling aspect, 
ays with us through the months of sunshine 
less. " The swallow,' ' says Sir H. Davy, ** is 
y favourite birds, and a rival of the nigh tin- 
he glads my sense of seeing, as much as the 
s my sense of hearing. He is the joyous 
>f the year, the' harbinger of the best season ; 
, life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest forms 
; winter is unknown to him, and he leaves 
i meadows of England in autumn, for the 
d orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of 

Mr. White, a clergyman of Hampshire, who delighted 
to observe all the works of the creation around him, 
has thus accurately described the window swallows or 
martin's mode of building : — 

" About the middle of May, if the weather be fine, 
the martin begins to think in earnest of providing a 
mansion for its family. The crust or shell of this nest 
seems to be formed of such dirt or loam as comes most 
readily to hand, and is tempered and wrought together 
with little bits of broken straws to render it tough and 
tenacious. As this bird often builds against** J>erpcu- 
dicular wall without any projecting ledge under,' it 
requires its utmost efforts to get the first foundation 
firmly fixed, so that it may safely carry the superstruc- 
ture. On this occasion, the bird not only clings with 
its claws, but partly supports itself by strongly inclining 
its tail against the wall, making that a fulcrum ; and 
thus steadied, it works and plasters the materials into 
the fece of the brick or stone. But then, that this work 
may not, while it is soft and greeu, pull itself down by 
its own weight, the provident architect has prudence and 
forbearance enough not to advance her work too fast ; 
but by building only in the morning, and by dedicating 
the rest of the day to food and amusement, gives it suf- 
ficient time to dry and harden. About half an inch seems 
to be a sufficient layer for a day. Thus careful workmen^ 
when they build mud-walls (informed at first perhaps 
by this little bird), raise but a moderate layer at a time 
and then desist, lest the work should become 4op-heavy t 
and so be ruined by its own weight. By this method, 



brmed a hemispheric 

the top,' strong, com- 

i for all the purposes 



in about ten c 
nest with a snu 
pact, and warm 
for which it waj 

" The shell or crust of the nest is a sort of rustic- 
work, full of knobs and protuberances on the outside : 
nor is the inside of those that I have examined smoothed 
with any exactness at all ; but is rendered soft and 
warm, and fit for incubation, by a lining of small straws, 
grasses and feathers, and sometimes by a bedding- of 
moss interwoven with wool. They are often capricious 
in fixing on a nesting-place, beginning many edifices 
and leaving them unfinished ; but when once a nest is 
completed in a sheltered plaice, after so much labour is 
bestowed in erecting a mansion, as nature seldom works 
in vain, the same nest serves for several seasons. Those 
which breed in a ready finished house, get the start in 
hatching of those that build new by ten days or a fort- 
night. These industrious artificers are at their labours 
in the long days before four in the morning ; when they 

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fix their materials, thev plaster then oa with their 



A Fail #.— i.ne aay ui uic uirui, »uu 
death, of Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, whom the uni- 
versal voice of posterity hat recognized as the Prince of 
modern Painters, and designated by the enthusiastic 
appellation of " the divine Raphael/' No rival, a' .east, 
has ever been placed beside Raphael except Michael 
Angelo. Of the two illustrious contemporaries the 
former may perhaps be appropriately styled the Shak- 
speare, the latter the Milton of Painting. Dignity mad 
imposing grandeur of design are the reigning charac- 
teristics of Michael Angelo ; the highest dramatic power 
which has ever been displayed by the pencil, and' the 
representation of passion with all the force of life, are 
the qualities that chiefly give their wonderful fascination 
to the works of Raphael. Raphael was horn at Urbino 
in 1483. By the time he had reached the age of twenty- 
five he had so greatly distinguished himself that he was 
invited by Pope Julius II. to paint in fresco the cham- 
bers of the Vatican. From this time till his death, in 
1520, at the early age of thirty-seven, he was employed 
in the execution of a succession of great works, chiefly 
for that pontiff and his successor, Leo X. His most 
famous performances are, his picture of the School of 
Athens in the Vatican, the Transfiguration, and his 
Cartoons on subjects taken from the Gospels and the 
Acts of the Apostles, which were brought to this country 
by Charles I., and are now to be seen at Hampton 
Court, upon the payment of a shilling for each party. 
Like Michael Angelo, Raphael rchitect as well 

as a painter, and, among other , superintended 

the erection of part of the < of St Peter's. 

But his untimely death interrupted nu prosecution of 
this and other great works on which he was engaged ; 
leaving him, however, although with a glory gathered in 
comparative youth, with no living superior, and followed 
by no equal in succeeding times. 

April 10.— This is the birth-day of the celebrated 
Dutch writer, Hugh de Groot, better known by his 
Latin name of Grotius, who was born at Delfft in 1588. 
Grotius was a prodigy of youthful talent and acquire- 
ment When only fourteen he prepared an edition of a 
Latin author,. Martianus Capella, in which he showed 
extensive classical and historical erudition. At the age 
of sixteen, having already made a journey to France, 
and been presented to Henry IV., who honoured him 
with the gift of his picture and a gold chain, he entered 
upon the profession of an advocate at DeWt 



i this time ha continued till his death to take an active 
rt in political transactions; but still found leisure to 
He a vast number of books, most of them diatiav 
isfaed for their learning and ability. The book by 
lien he is now principally known is his famous treatise 
the law of nations, entitled, On the right of Peace 
d War.' It was first published at Park in 1625. 
kother of his productions, which is still very popular, is 
\ treatise 'On the Truth of the Christian Religion, 
item, like the former, in Latin, but which baa been 
nslated into every language of Europe. Grotius 
ote a great part of this work while confined by a riva. 
litical faction in the castle of Louvestein, from which, 
wever, after nearly, two years* detention, bis wife eon- 
red to get him conveyed away in a chest, which she 
tended was full of books. Grotius died in his sixty- 
rd year, on the 28th of August, 1645. 
April 11.— The birth day of the late Right Hoaouf- 
le George Canning, who was born in London, in the 
ur 1771. His father, an Irish gentleman of good 
oily, died the same venr in which his son was bora, 
the usual aj uniting was sent to Eton, 

«re he soon d himself by the brilliancy of 

\ talents. Wuw were uc made the first public trial 
his literary powers in * The Microcosm,' a very clever 
riodical work, which he carried on in conjunction with 
ne of his schoolfellows, and of which he was the pro* 
tor and the editor. In 1787 he removed to Christ, 
unurch, Oxford, intending to adopt the profession of the 
aw. But while yet at the University, his reputation for 
ability obtained for him the notice of Mr. Pitt, who 
brought him into Parliament in 1793. Mr. Canning's 
official career belongs to the history of his country, and 
especially that period of it during which he was Secre- 
tary of State for Foreign Affairs. The system of foreign 
policy with which bis name is associated has caused his 
memory to be held in honour ; end although he opposed 
Parliamentary Reform, as well as other popular mea- 
sures, yet his steadfast support of Catholic Emancipation 
for a long series of years, and the protection lie afforded 
to the cause of freedom on the Continent, and in South 
America, are proofs of his attachment to liis celebrated 
toast of ** Civil and Religious Liberty oil ever the 
World r In April, 1&27, he was appointed Prime 
Minister by George the Fourth, rfhd continued to hold 
the offices of First Lord oftbe Treasury and Chancellor 
of the Exchequer till his death, on the 8th of August 
in the same year, at the Bnke of Devonshire's villa at 
Chiswick, afler a short illftfss. His death at so early a 
period after his accession to power called forth a deep 
feeling of grief in his owji country, and, perhaps, a still 
stronger and more general feeling on tlie Continent, 
where medals were struck in memory of the British 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 

11 The characteristic of the English populace,— perhaps 
we ought to say people, for it extends to the middle 
classes, — is their propensity to mischief. The people of 
most other countries may safely be admitted iuto parks, 
gardens, public buildings, and galleries of pictures and 
statues ; but in England it is necessary to exclude them, 
as much as possible, from all such places." 

This is a sentence from the last published number o. 
the ' Quarterly Review.' Severe as it is, there is much 
truth in it The fault k not entirely on the side 
of the people (we will not use the offensive term popu* 
lace); but still they are in fault. The writer adds, 
speaking of this love of mischief, which he calls M a 
disgraceful part of the English character," that " any- 
thing tends to correct it that contributes to give the 
people a taste for intellectual pleasures, — anything that 
™— contributes to their innocent enjoyment,— anything that 
From J excites them to wholesome and pleasurable activity af 



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[April 7 



body and mind. * This is quite true. We hope to do 
something, speaking generally, to excite and gratify a 
taste for intellectual pleasure ; but we wish to do more 
in this particular case. We wish to point out many 
unexpensive pleasures, of the very highest order, which 
all those who reside in London have within their rot ch ; 
and how the education of themselves and of their chil- 
dren may be advanced by using their opportunities of 
enjoying some of the purest gratifications which an 
instructed mind is, capable 6f receiving. Having learnt 
to enjoy them, they will naturally feel an Honest pride 
in the possession, by the Nation, of many of the most 
valuable treasures of Art and of Science ; and they will 
hold that person a baby in mind — a spoiled, wilful, mis- 
chievous baby — who dares to attempt the slightest injury 
to the public property, which has been collected together, 
at an immense expense, for the public advantage. 

Well, then, that we may waste no time in general 
discussion, let us begin with the British Museum. 
We will suppose ourselves addressing an artisan or 
tradesman, who can sometimes afford to take a holiday, 
and who knows there are better modes of spending a 
working-day, which he some half-dozen times a year 
devotes to pleasure, than amidst the smoke of a tap* 
room, or the din of a skittle-gronnd. He is a family 
man ; he enjoys a pleasure doubly if it is shared by his 
wife and children. Well, then, in Great Russell-street, 
Bloomsbury, is the British Museum ; and here, from ten 
o'clock till four, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, 
he may see many of the choicest productions of ancient 
art— Egyptian, Grecian, and Roman monuments ; and 
what will probably please the young people most, in the 
first instance, a splendid collection of natural history — 
quadrupeds, birds, insects, shells — all classed and beau- 
tifully disposed in an immense gallery, latety built by 
the Government for the more convenient exhibition of 
these curiosities. '* But hold," says the working man, 
** 1 have passed by the British Museum : there are two 
sentinels at the gateway, and the large gates are always 
closed. Will they let mq in ? Is there nothing to pay ?" 
That is a very natural question al>out the payment ;, for 
there is too much of paying in England by the people 
for admission to what they flight to see for nothing. 
But here there is nothing to pay. Knock boldly at the 
gate ; x the porter wfU open jj. You are in a large square 
court-yard, with an old-fashioned house occupying three 
sides. A flight of steps Jeads up to the principal en- 
trance. Go on.. Do -not iter any surly looks or imper- 
tinent glances from any pe{${m in attendance. You are 
upon safe ground here. You rfjop come to see your own 
property. You have as mutfe right to see i£ and you 
are as welcome therefore to see it, as the highest in the 
land. There is no favour in showing it you. You 
assist . in paying for the purchase, and the maintenance 
of it; and one of the very best effects that could result 
from that expense would be to teach every Englishman 
to set a proper value upon the enjoyments which such 
public property is capable of affording. Go boldly 
forward, then. The officers of the Museum, who are 
obliging to all strangers, will be glad to see you. Your 
garb is homely, you think, as you see gaily-dressed 
persons going in and out. No matter ; you and your 
wife, and your children, are clean, if not smart. By the 
way, it will be well to mention that very young children 
(those under eight years old) are uot admitted ; and 
that for' a very sufficient reason: in most cases they 
would disturb the other visitors. 

You are now in the great Hail — a lofty room, with a 
fine staircase. In an adjoining room a book is pre- 
sented to you. in which one of a party has to write his 
name and address, with the number of persons accom- 
panying him. That is the only form you have to go 
through ; and it is a necessary form, if it were only to 
preserve a record of the number of persons admitted. 
In each year this number amounts to about seventy 



thousand : so you see that the British Museum has 
afforded pleasure and improvement to a great many 
people. We hope the number of visitors will be doubled 
and trebled ; for exhibitions such as these do a very 
arreat deal for the advance of a people in knowledge and 
virtue. abandon himself 

to Ion gambling — when 

he mi ten as he pleases 

at no i he sight of some 

of the lgs in the world, 

with « about in his own 

private gauery. mu mai ue may enjoy these treasures, 
and that every body else may enjoy them at the same 
time, it will be necessary to observe a few simple rules. 

1st Touch nothing. The statues, and other curious % 
things, which are in the Museum, are to be seen, not 
to be handled. If visitors were to be allowed to touch 
them, to try whether they were hard or soft, to scratch 
them, to write upon them with their pencils, they would 
be soon worth very little. You will see some mutilated 
remains of two or three of the finest figures that ever 
were executed in the world f they form part of the col- 
lection called the Elgin Marbles, and were brought from 
the Temple of Minerva, at Athens, which city at the 
time of the sculpture of these statues, about two thousand l 
three hundred years ego, was one of the cities of Greece ' 
most renowned for art and learning. Time has, of 
course, greatly worn these statues : but it is said that 
the Turkish soldiers, who kept the modern Greeks under 
subjection, used to take a brutal pleasure in the injury 
of these remains of ancient art ; as if they were glad to 
destroy what their ignorance made them incapable of 
valuing. Is it not as great ignorance for a stupid fellow 
of our own day slily to write his own paltry name upon 
one of these glorious monuments ? Is not such an act 
the most severe reproach upon the writer ? Is it not, 
as if the scribbler should say, " Here am I, in the pre- *\ 
sence of some of the great masterpieces of art, whose 
antiquity ought to produce reverence, if I cannot com- 
prehend their beauty ; and I derive a pleasure from 
putting; my own obscure, perishable name upon works 
whose fame will endure for ever." What a satire upon 
$uch vanity. Doubtless, these fellows, who are so 
pleased with their own weak selves, as to poke their 
names into every face, are nothing but grown babies, 
and want afbofs cap most exceedingly. J 

2dly. Do not talk loud. Talk, of course, you moat; %j 
or you would lose much of the enjoyment we wish you 
to have — for pleasure is only half pleasure, unless it be 
shared with those we love. But do not disturb others 
with your talk. Do not call loudly from one end of a 
long gallery to the other, or you will distract the atten 
tion of those who derive great enjoyment from an undls 
turned contemplation of the wonders in these rooms 
You will excuse this hint. 

Srdly. Be not obtrusive. You will see many things 
in the Museum that you do not understand. It will be 
well to make a memorandum of these, to be inquired 
into at your leisure ; and in these inquiries we shall 
endeavour to assist you from time to time. But do not 
trouble other visitors with your questions ; and, above 
all, do not trouble the young artists, some of whom, you 
will see making drawings for their improvement. Their 
time is precious to them ; and it is a real inconvenience 
to be obliged to give their attention to anything but their 
work, or to have their attention disturbed by an over- 
curious person peeping at what they are doing. If you 
want to make any inquiry, go to one of the attendants, 
who walks about in each room. He will answer yon as 
far as he knows. You must not expect to understand 
what you see all at once : you must go again and again 
if you wish to obtain real knowledge, beyond the gratifi- 
cation of passing curiosity. 

In future numbers we shall briefly mention what is 
most worthy your attention in this National Collection. 



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POKSIB. 

{GlOaOJK WlTHSB, BORN 1588, DUD 1677.] 

Though I misa the flowery fields, 

With those sweets the spring-tide yields ; 

Though I may not see those groves, 

Where the shepherds chaunt their loves, 

And the lasses more excel, 

Then the sweet-voiced Philomel; 

Though of all those pleasures past, 

Nothing now remains at last, 

But remembrance (poor relief) 

"That more makes, wen mends my grief J 

She's my mind's companion still, 

Maugre Envy's evil will. 

She doth tell me where to borrow 

Comfort in the midst of sorrow; 

Makes the desolated place 

To her presence be a grace ; 

And the blackest discontents 

Be her fairest ornaments. 

In my former days of bliss, 

Her divine skill taught me this, 

That from every thing I saw, 

I could some invention draw ; 

And raise pleasure to her height, 

Through the meanest object's sight. 

By the murmur of a spring, 

Or the least bough's rustling ; 

By a daisy whose leaves spread, 

Shut when Titan goes to bed, 

Or a shady bush or tree, 

She could more infuse in me, 

Then all nature's beauties can. 

In some other wiser man. 

By her help I also now 

Make this churlish place allow 

Some things that may sweeten gladness 

In the very gall of sudnvss. 

The dull loneness, the black shade, 

That those hanging vatdts have made, 

The strange music of the waves 

Beating on these hollow caves, 

This black den which rocks emboss, 

Overgrown with eldest moss, 

The rude portals that give light, 

More to terror than delight,—* 

This my chamber of neglect, 

Walled about with disrespect, 

From all these, and this dull air, 

A fit object for despair, 

She hath taught me by her might 

To draw comfort and delight. 

Therefore, thou best earthly bliss, 

I wimufcerish thee for this. 

sweet'st content, 
eaven to mortals lent j 
as a trifle leave thee, 
thoughts cannot conceive thee; 
w u be to them a scorn, 

That to nought but earth are born } 
Let my life no longer be, 
Than I am in love with thee. 

George Wither, the author of the above lines, was 
several times subjected to long and severe imprison- 
ment for his political opinions. While in the Marshalsea 
prison in 1613, he wrote his ' Shepherd's Hunting,' a 
pastoral poem, from which this is an extract The verses 
are not only beautiful in themselves, but they point out 
bow a rigorous mind will secure happiness under the 
most unfavourable circumstances. The imagination of 
Wither was delighted to repose upon the most common 
natural objects; — and in the same way, the man who 
possesses the least of the outward gifts of fortune, if his 
faculties be awake to the beauties which nature has so 
pUnteously scattered around his path, may possess in 
hi iself a source of pleasure of the purest kind. The 
ra »ture which Wither expresses for * Poesie^may to 
stf ne appear overstrained ; but let it not be thought that 
tve poet attributed this power of imparting delight to 
his faculty alone of making verses. The exercise of his 
fancy, by which he could " raise pleasure to her height," 
consisted in presenting to his " minds eye" the infinite 
jeauties of fhe creation. The " daisy," whose remem- 
brance gladdened even his prison-walls, brought to him 
images of the quiet and purity of the a flowery fields*" 




Such images every body may enjoy, and may gradually 
learn to associate Che commonest appearances of nature 
with a high moral feeling. We have many instances 
of this power of association in our finest poets ; let us 
take as an example the following lines by a* writer ok 
our own day : — 

TO A DAISY. ' 
Bright flower, whose home is every where ! 
A pilgrim bold in Nature's care, 
And oft, the long year through, the heir 
Of joy or sorrow. 

Kethinks that there abides in thee 
Some concord with humanity, 
Given to no other flower I see 
The forest thorough ! 

And wherefore ? Man is soon deprest ; 
A thoughtless thing ! who, once unblest, 
Does little on his memory rest, 
Or on his reason. 

But thou woukr*st teach him how to find 

A shelter under every wind ; 

A hope for times that are unkind, 

And every season. Wordsworth. 



OMHE CHOICE OF A LABOURING MAN'S 
^^ DWELLING. 

It seems, on the first view, somewhat odd to talk about 
choice of dwelling to a labouring man. It may occur to 
such a person, that as he has seldom; more than two or 
three shillings per week to allow for rent* he must be 
contented with the humble accommodations that can be 
afforded for that sum. This is, to a certain extent, true; 
but it is not therefore to be concluded that the exercise of 
a little prudence may not put him in possession of some 
advantages with his two or three shillings, which the 
want of that quality would exclude him from. There are 
some dwellings so badly situated, in such ill repair, ami 
altogether so miserable, that a man exposes himself and 
his family to disease and every other inconvenience by 
inhabiting them. Such hovels are usually tenanted by 
people who are behind-hand in paying their rent, and so 
cannot leave them ; or who* being " steeped to the very 
lips in poverty," are indifferent to cleanliness and ail 
other comforts. It is possible that an industrious and 
careful family may, for some time, he obliged to live in a 
wretched house ; but it is their own fault if they continue 
in it. In this country the poor ate better lodged than in 
any other in Europe ; and within the last twenty years 
the increase of population and of productive labour -has 
caused a demand for cottages, which has covered every 
parish, and particularly the neighbourhood of large 
towns, with an amazing number of snug little houses, in 
which provision is generally made for the comfort of those* 
who inhabit them. Now while there is such a choice of 
dwellings, it is very much a labouring man's fault if he 
does not have a commodious one ; and if he continue to 
be the tenant of a damp, or ruinous, or badly ventilated 
hut, while the snug brick and tiled tenement remains 
vacant, we should say that he is a blind and step id 
observer of an old proverb (which, however, has much 
sense in it) that " three removes are as bad as a fire." 

We wish to offer a tew plain hints to assist our readers 
in the choice of a dwelling. And, first* of situation. 

Whoever rambles through our villages must often see 
a piPtty little cottage, that realizes all that benevolence 
could wish for a labouring man's dwelling. We have 
seen many such; and the remembrance often occurs 
to us, when we observe rich men unhappy, in large 
mansions, and amongst splendid furniture. We then 
think of the contrast which the simplicity and content, 
of the w peasant's nest" oilers. Who has not looked 
upon the whitened walls, half covered with roses and 
jessamine, and the neat garden, where ornament is 
blended with utility, 

And said, if there's peace to be found in the world, 
A heart vat is humble may hope for it here I 



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Bui to agreeable dwelling is not always to be com- 
wianded ; nor is the best situation always to be found. 
If a cottager have a house with a northern aspect, he 
must pay a little more attention to ho gooseberry and 
apple trees, to make them bear as plentifully as those 
which are trained in a southern sun. We are only 
desirous to caution* him against a house that is truly 
uncomfortable, and that cannot be easily rendered 
otherwise. 

We would first say, avoid, if it be possible, a low and 
marshy situation. There are many dangerous fevers 
which are produced by the vicinity of stagnant waters : 
and houses which from their site are constantly damp 
expose those who inh .bit them to rheumatism, croup, 
ague, and other pa .iful disorders. The same effects 
are produced by Selling-houses which are subject to 
occasional inunctions of rivers. To be driven in cold 
weather from tin; accustomed fire-side to shiver in bed- 
rootns which nave probably no grate ; to have two or 
three feet o 1 water running through the lower part of the 
house, destroying many things and injuring more ; and 
»t last, when (lie inundations cease, to find the whole 
dwelling damp and miserable for several weeks : this is 
a visitation which no one would willingly seejfei, If a 
cottager has therefore the choice of being on a mR-side, 
or by the bank of a river, we think, if be were a sensible 
man, he would prefer the elevated situation. 

On the construction of a dwelling, we have not much 
to observe. The great requisite is the free admission of 
light and air. Dark rooms are an inconvenience to the 
industrious housewife which we need not describe ; and 
rooms not properly ventilated are more injurious to 
health than may readily be conceived. Every sleeping- 
room should have a chimney. In England, no sitting- 
room is, we apprehend, without one. But in Ireland, 
the peasantry have neither window nor chimney to their 
wretched hovels. The smoke of the turf which burns 
upon their hearth forces its way out by the door ; and 
the family sit and sleep in this dark and dirty condition. 
This would be intolerable amongst the more cleanly and 
richer peasantry of this country. 

Of the appendages to a house, a good supply of 
water is one of the most necessary conveniences. If the 
pitcher is to be carried a dozen times a day to a spring 
or a well a quarter of a mile off, it is almost the labour 
of one person to procure this supply; and that labour 
would contribute as much to the family earnings as, in 
twelve months, would dig a well. No cottager should 
be without a garden. A rood of land, properly culti- 
vated, will half maintain a careful family. 

Of the fixture* of a house we cannot be expected to 
amy much. A copper and an oven will enable the female 
to labour most profitably for the general good. A cot- 
tager that can grow his own potatoes, keep his pig, 
biew his beer, and bake his bread, has not many 
necessaries to purchase of the shopkeeper, and is there- 
fore, to a certain extent, independent in the best sense 
of the word. 

As to furniture, we would say, avoid furnished lodg- 
ing: The bed and table, and two or three chairs, of 
these places, seldom cost more than &/., the interest of 
which is only St. a year. The money annually paid for 
the use of such things is almost as much as their prime 
cost There is a satisfaction, too, in knowing that wjiat 
is about us is our own. It is better to sit upon an old 
box or a block of wood than to pay enormously for the 
hire of a chair ; and we may sleep as soundly upon a 
straw mattress as upon an expensive feather-bed. One 
secret, to be happy in every situation of life, is this, — 
not to sacrifice real comfort and solid independence 
to make a show. When the cottager has got ten 
pounds in the Savings Bank, he may afford his wife a 
mahogany tea-table. An American writer has given 
some judicious remarks upon this subject, which apply 
toaHdi 



"If you are about to furnish a house, do not spend all 
your money, be it much or little. Do not let the beauty of 
this thing, and the cheapness of that, tempt you to bujftin- 
necessary articles. Doctor Franklin's maxim was a wise 
one, 'Nothing is cheap that we do not want/ Buy merely 
enough to get along with at first It is only by experience 
that you can tell what will be the wants of your family If 
you spend all your money, you will find you have purchased 
many things you do not want, and have no means left to get 
many things which you do want If vou have enough, and 
more than enough, to get le to your situa- 

tion, do not think you mu rely because vou 

happen to have it Begis les increase, it in 

easy and pleasant to inci but it is always 

painful and inconvenient to decrease. After all, these things 
are viewed in their proper light by the truly judicious and 
respectable. Neatness, tastefulness, and good sense may 
be shown in the management of a small household, and the 
arrangement of a little furniture, as well as upon a larger 
scale; and these qualities are always praised, and always 
treated with respect and attention. The consideration which 
many purchase by living beyond their income, and of course 
living upon others, is not worth the trouble it costs. The 
glare there is about this false and wicked parade is decep- 
tive ; it does not in fact procure a man valuable friends, or 
extensive influence. ' 



Sir George Staunton visited a man in India who had 
committed a murder, and, in order not only to save his life, 
but what was of much more consequence, his caste, he sub- 
mitted to the penalty imposed ; this was, that he should sleep 
for seven Years on a bedstead, without any mattress, the 
whole surface of which was studded with points of iron, 
resembling nails, but not so sharp as to penetrate the flesh. 
Sir George saw him in the fifth year of his probation, and 
his skin was then like the hide of a rhinoceros, but more 
callous; at that time, however, he could sleep comfortably 
on his " bed of thorns" and remarked, that at the expiration 
of the term of his sentence, he should most probably con- 
tinue that system from choice, which be had been obliged to 
adopt from necessity. 



LONDON:— CHARLKS KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 

Mglr supplied Whotuob by tht /oteariay 



/*adaa, QmooMBRiDOK, Panycr-Alk/. 
Pateraoster.Roa*. 

£«**, BAnrstaad Co. 
Limrpmit Wituiia aa4 Surra. 



Manchester, Robiksok. 
Dublin, Wakemaw. 
Edinburgh, Olive* and Bo*»» 
Glasgow, Atkiwiom and Co. 



PH lii If WnttAS Ci*wsa, Dake Street, Laabetk 



However small may be a man's income, there is one very 
certain way of increasing it — that is Frugality. A frugal 
expenditure will enable almost every body to save something ; 
and as there are now established throughout this country 
Banks, where the industrious may safely deposit their 
savings, however little they may be, and receive the same 
sort of advantage which the rich derive from their money 
that is, interest, there is every inducement to make an effbr 
to save. Dr. Franklin observes, in his usual forcible way 
that " six pounds a-year is but a groat a -day. For this lit tie 
sum which may be daily wasted, either in time or expense, 
nnperceived, a man of credit may, on his own security, 
have the constant possession and use of a hundred and 
twenty pounds.'* Many humble men in England have risen 
to wealth by such small beginnings ; but many more con- 
tinue to expend the groat a-day unnecessarily, and never 

A certain pope, who had been raised from tat obscure 
situation to the apostolic chair, was immediately waited upon 
by a deputation sent from a small district, in which he had 
formerly officiated as cure : it seems that he had promised 
the inhabitants that he would do something for them, if it 
should ever be in bis power ; and some of 4 ~ . V 
before him, to remind him of. his prom! >**-- must ; • 

that he would fulfil it, by granting l 

every year ! He acceded to their modest request, on condi- 
tion that they should go home immediately, and so adjust 
the Almanac of their own particular district, as to make 
every year of their Register consist of twenty-four calends 
months. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[April 14, 1832 



SOMERS ST-HOUSE. 



The history of Somerset-house is, in a great degree, a 
history of the variable characteristics of successive ages. 
The present building is of modern date. But upon the 
same site stood the old Somerset-house, erected in the 
year 1549, by the Protector Somerset. This was the 
age of arbitrary violence and lawless power. Somerset- 
house originally rose upon the ruins of ecclesiastical edi- 
fices and of private dwellings. The proud man who 
degraded and abused his authority, by making it the 
inuuster *o his personal gratification, pulled down an 
ancient church, an inn of court, and a number of houses, 
to make room for the magnificent palace which he here 
erected. Not the slichtast onmrw»noflfjon was made to 
*• ig enjoy the poor 

£** He died jyn the 

seal 

* became the re- 

sidence ui vanuus queens, ine great Elizabeth some- 
times resided here. Anne of Denmark, Queen to 
James I., here kept her court, which was remarkable 
forks grotesque amusements, being, as an old author 
says, ** a continued masquerade." The unfortunate 
Queen of Charles I. resided here after her husband's 
execution; and here the Roman Catholic Queen of 
Charles II. kepi a separate court. Those were the 
ages in which royalty displayed itself in cumbrous 
pomp; and in which religious contentions of the most 
intolerant character interrupted the quiet of the people, 
and degraded the faith which, as it was professed, 
they were meant to uphold. 

At length arrived the age of regulated freedom,— of 
national wealth produced by unfettered industry, — of 
science -applied to the manufacturing arts,— of diffused 
comforts and enjoyments. In the reign of George IH. 
a building of sufficient magnitude for the business of 
several of the most important departments of public 
affairs was required, and old Somerset-house presented 
an eligible site. The present extensive pile was com- 
menced in 1774, from the design of Sir William 
Chambers. 

The principal departments of Government which are 
here carried on, are the Stamp-Office, the Victualling- 
Office, the Audit-Office, and the Navy-Office. The 

V3JU I* 



luiu ssomcwct-liousc.J 



front of Somerset-house to the Strand contains th 
apartments belonging to the Royal Society, the Society 
of Antiquaries, the Geological Society, and the Ray* 
Academy of Arts. 



EMIGRATION TO THE NORTH AMERICAN 
COLONIES. 

The Commissioners appointed by his Majesty's Go- 
vernment to superintend and facilitate emigration to the 
Colonies have just published a little tract*, the extensive 
circulation of which, we think, will be productive of 
much benefit. The reliance which may be safely placed 
on an official document gives this publication a superior 
yalue. It should be in the hands of every one who is 
interested (either on his own account, or on that of 
others) in possessing accurate information respecting 
the facilities which are afforded to persons who wish to 
emigrate to the Canadas, or to New Brunswick. The 
great difficulty which formerly beset the emigrant, was 
his helpless condition on his arrival in a strange country 
For want of knowledge of the country— for want of an 
acquaintance with persons who possessed that know- 
ledge — and too frequently from acquaintance with per- 
sons who possessed that knowledge, but who turned it 
to their own account and to his disadvantage, the emi- 
grant, to use a common phrase, not knowing which way 
to turn himself, frequently turned wrong, and the bad 
consequences of a mistake, at so critical a moment, can 
seldom be retrieved. The offer of a grant of land rather 
increased his difficulty; for when a poor man had got 
this bit of land, he soon found that he had not the means 
of Jiving during the interval necessary to raise a crop, 
and that if he had the means of doing so, he did 
not know how to apply his labour and his money to the 
best advantage. So that he was, after all, forced to 
work for wages, until he could get together a few 
savings, and could learn a little of the way of living and 
farming in Canada. Now, in Canada, there is plenty 

* Information published by his Majesty's Commissioners for Emi 
grafaon, respecting the British Colonies in North America —London : 
published by Charles Knight, Pall-Mail East ; and to lie had of all 
Booksellers and Newsrenders. Price Two Pence, or 1>. 9rf. per 
dozen for, distribution, 

D 



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[April 14, 



of work aad very high wages ; so that an industrious 
man has not' long to wait for good employment under 
any circumstances. But it is very vexatious to have 
spent time and money, and perhaps health, and to find 
oneself obliged to begin all over again. The Commis- 
sioners, therefore, recommend the emigrant, who has 
little to depend upon but his own manual labour, to 
begin by working for wages. Land is no longer given 
for nothing, but it is to be had so cheap, and labour is 
so well paid, that if a man is thrifty as well as in- 
dustrious, he ought to be able lo become a purchaser 
by the time he has learned enough of the way of the 
country to be a successful cultivator. 

It is clear, therefore, that the best thing that Govern- 
ment can do is to secure immediate employment for 
the emigrant labourer. And, for this purpose, Agents 
are maintained at the principal colonial ports, whose 
duty it is to protect emigrants against imposition on 
their first landing, to acquaint them with the demand 
for labour in different districts, to point out the best 
roads and conveyances, and to give them such advice 
as may set them in a fair way of doing well. For this 
valuable assistance no fee or reward will be accepted by 
the agents. When a private engagement cannot be had 
without loss of timet employment will be afforded on 
some of the public works which are going on. No 
emigrant should lose a minute after his arrival in going 
straightway to the Government Agents for Emigrants, 
where he will find what he most wants — advice and 
employment. 

The best months for leaving England are March and 
April. 

The price of passage from the different ports is stated 
to be as under : — 



For ft frown 



From London & 
the Eastern } 61. & %L 

Ports . . J 

From Liverpool, 1 

STp^"^} 4/.toW. 2/.to2/.10#. l/.«t.W. toU13«.4rf. 

Ireland . J 

For children under twelve months no charge is made. 
At the above charges the emigrant is supplied with pro- 
visions during the voyage, and this is, perhaps, the best 
mode of making the bargain, as the emigrant is pro- 
tected by law against the supply of provisions being in- 
sufficient, and dangerous mistakes are frequently made 
by persons who are not in the habit of laying in stores, 
and who are not able to foresee what they shall want on 
board a ship. Besides the probability of their being 
much better provided for by the shipowner than by 
themselves, it is pretty certain that they will save money 
by it. The price of a passage, exclusive of provisions, 
that is, where nothing is found by the shipowner but 
water, fuel, and bed-places, is one-half of the above 
rates. To avoid being detained at the port by the 
vessel not sailing on the appointed day, a particular 
day ought always to be named in the bargain; after 
which, whether the ship sails or not, the passenger is to 
be received on board and victualled by the owners. If 
tnat is done, the emigrant has a right to be received on 
board on that day so named, and to consider the ship 
as his home until she does sail. This prevents his Being 
brought to the place of embarkation too soon, and kept 
waiting at a tavern, where he may spend the little money 
he has, or contract debts which will prevent his leaving 
the country. 

Emigrants should bear in mind that the sea-voyage 
will not bring them at once to the place of their destina- 
tion, but that at least £2 should be reserved for each 
grown person for the inland journey. Including the 
journey from his home to the port where he gets on 
board, the expense to a grown person of removing to 



Canada appears, from this document, to be from £7 
to £9. 

Arrangements have been, made by which persons, 
who may wish to furnish emigrants with money for their 
use in the colony, may have the means of making the 
money payable there, instead of giving it into the hands 
of the emigrant before he leaves this country. 

The number of emigrants is considerable already, 
and the Commissioners have done wisely in directing 
their attention, in the first instance, .to provic ng for 
the emigrant on his arriving in Canada; but in the work 
of facilitating his departure from this country, much re- 
mains for them to do. They have begun at the right 
end, and begun well ; but the Commissioners will not 
fulfil the expectation which the public have formed from 
their appointment, unless, in due time, they apply them- 
selves to remove the difficulties which attend the first 
steps of the emigrant. We sav, in due time, because 
we dt ee migrate held 

out to 10 is fully made 

forth' ilsewnere, uua unurine legislature 

give tneir sanction to such improvements in our system 
of "poor laws, as shall render the departure of the emi- 
grant a real and permanent benefit to his country as 
well as to himself. In a future number we shall return 
to this interesting and important subject 



THE SEASONS OF THE ANTIPODES. 

The inhabitants of a place occupying a position on the 
surface of the globe directly opposite to our own country 
are called our Antipodes, a name derived from two Greek 
words meaning opposite and foot If HobartTown, the 
capital of Van Diemen's Land, were about fourteen hun- 
dred miles farther east, and about five hundred miles farther 
south, the inhabitants of that place and the inhabitants 
of London would stand with their feet planted exactly t 
against each other. As it is, the difference in longitude 
occasions a difference between the time of the day with 
them and with us of nearly ten hours — or, when it is 
noon, for example, with us, it is about ten o'clock at 
night with them. The more remarkable difference, how- 
ever, between their situation and ours is that arising from 
the circumstance that we lie on the one side of the equa- 
tor, and they nearly at as great a distance on the other. 
The consequence is, that when England, it 

is summer in Van Diemen's Li inter there, 

summer here ; and that all the of the year, « 

in short, are completely revere > countries. 

Thus the spring quarter of the v mi lsrcmeu » Land year 
begins in September, on the first day of which month, as 
is seen by the Calendar in the Van Piemen's Land 
Almanack, the sun rises and sets at the same hours as H 
does with us on the 4th of March ; and the day i* 
lengthening, as in our spring. It continues to do so 
till the 21st of December (our shortest day), wheu it is 
at the longest; and then it gradually diminishes in 
length through the summer and autumnal months of 
January, February, March, April, and May, till on 
the 21st of June (our longest day) it reaches the utmost 
limit of its contraction. The latitude of Hobart Town, 
however, being not quite so high as ours, the longest 
day there is not so long, nor the shortest day so short, 
as with us. The length of their 21st of December 
is about 15 hours 12 minutes, that of our 21st of June 
being 16 hours 34 minutes; and that of their 21st ot 
June is 8 hours 48 minutes, that of our 21st of Decern 
ber being only 7 hours 44 minutes. Our earliest sun 
rise is at 43 minutes past 3, theirs at 24 minutes past 
4 ; our latest sunset is at. 17 minutes past 8, theirs at 
36 minutes past 7. At no period of the year, therefore, do 
their days either increase or decrease so fast as ours. I n 
reviewing the different seasons with reference to this parti- 
cular of the continuance of the sun above the horizon, it mav 
be stated generally that September, October, and Noveiu 



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ber in Van Diemen's Land answer very nearly to March 
and April in England ; December, January, and Fe- 
bruary there, to May, June, July, August, and about the 
first third of September with 'us; March, April, and 
May there, to the remainder of September, October, and 
the first third of November with us ; and June, July, and 
August there, to the remainder of November, December, 
January, and February here. There are other circum- 
stances, however, besides the mere length of the days, 
which affect the progress of the seasons ; and therefore the 
succession of the natural appearances of the year in the 
two countries will not be found to follow exactly the com- 
mencement and close of these corresponding periods. 



DISAPPOINTMENTS OF THE AUTHORS OF 
IMPORTANT INVENTIONS. 

Almost every one who has rendered a great service to man- 
kind, by striking out inventions, whose objects are miscon- 
ceived or imperfectly understood by the world, has had to 
complain of the neglect or coldness of his own generation. 
Even his best friends are apt to suspect his motives and 
undervalue his labours. The real recompense, in such 
circumstances, as in all others, is the consciousness of doing 
one's duty. Fulton, the inventor of the steam-boat in North 
America, which, in a few years, has produced such an 
astonishing change in that vast country, by connecting 
together its most distant states, sustained the mortification 
of not being comprehended by his countrymen. He was, 
therefore, treated as an idle projector, whose schemes would 
be useless to the world and ruinous to himself. At a dis- 
course, delivered at the Mechanics* Institute, Boston, in 
1829, by Judge Story, the feelings of Fulton, upon his first 
public experiment, are thus related : — 

" I myself have heard the illustrious inventor of the steam- 
boat relate, in an animated and affecting manner, Uie history 
of his labours and discouragements. When, said he, I was 
building my first steam-boat at New York, the project was 
viewed _oy the public, either with indifference or with con- 
tempt, as a visionary scheme. My friends, indeed, were civil, 
but they were shy. They listened with patience to my ex- 
planations, but with a settled cast of incredulity on their coun- 
tenances. I felt the full force of the lamentation of the poet, 

' Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land, 
All shun, none aid you, and few understand.' 

As I had occasion to pass daily to and from the building- 
yard, while my boat was in progress, I have often loitered 
unknown near the idle groups of strangers, gathering in 
little circles, and, heard various inquiries as to the object of 
this new vefefeie, " ^ The language was uniformly that of 
scorn, or sneer, or ridicule. The loud laugh often rose at 
my expense; theory jest ; the wise calculation of losses and 
expenditures ; the dull but endless repetition of the Fulton 
FoMy. Never did a single encouraging remark, a bright 
hope, or a warm wish, cross my path. Silence itself was but 
politeness, veiling its doubts, or hiding its reproaches. At 
length the day arrived when the experiment was to be put 
into operation. To me it was a most trying and interesting 
occasion. I invited many friends to go on board to witness 
the first successful trip. Many of them did me the favour 
to attend, as a matter of personal respect ; but it was mani- 
fest that they did it with reluctance, fearing to be the 
partners of my mortification, and not of my triumph. I was 
well aware, that, in my case, there were many reasons to 
doubt of my own success. The machinery was new and ill- 
made ; many parts of it were constructed by mechanics un- 
accustomed to such work ; and unexpected difficulties might 
reasonably be presumed to present themselves from other 
causes. The moment arrived in which the word was to 
be given for the vessel to move. My friends were in groups 
on the deck. There was anxiety mixed with fear among 
them. They were silent, and sad, and weary. I read in 
their looks nothing but disaster, and almost repented of my 
efforts. * The signal was given, and the boat moved on a 
short distance, and then stopped, and became immoveable. 
To the silence of the preceding moment now succeeded 
murmurs of discontent, and agitations, and whispers, and 
throffs. I could hear distinctly repeated, * I told you it 
vould be so, it is a foolish scheme ; I wish we were well out 
of HV I elevated myself upon a platform, and addressed 
the assembly. I stated that I kuaw not what was the 
matter ; but if they would be quiet, and indulge me for half 



an hour, I would either go on, or abandon the voyage for 
that time. This short respite was conceded without objec- 
tion. I went below, examined the machinery, and discovered 
that the cause was a slight mal-adjustment of some of the 
work. In a short period it was obviated. The boat was 
again put in motion. She continued to move on. All were 
still incredulous. None seemed willing to trust the evidence 
of their own senses. We left the fair city of New York ; we 
passed through the romantic and ever-varying scenery of the 
highlands ; we descried the clustering houses of Albany ; 
we reached its shores ; and then, even then, when all seemed 
achieved, I was the victim of disappointment. Imagination 
superseded the influence of fact. It was* then doubted if it 
could be done again ; or, if done, it was doubted if it could 
be made of any great value.*' 



THUS I THINK. 

[From Locke's Miscellaneous Papers, published in his Life by 

Lord King.] . 

It is a man's proper business to seek happiness and 
avoid misery. Happiness, consists in what delights and 
contents the mind; misery in what disturbs, discom- 
poses, or torments it 

I will therefore make it my business to seek satisfaction 
and delight, and avoid uneasiness and disquiet ; to have 
as much of the one and as little of the other as may be. 

But here I must have a care I mistake not ; for if I 
prefer a short pleasure to a lasting one, it is plain I cross 
my own happiness. 

Let me then see wherein consists the most lasting 
pleasure of this life, and that, as far as I can observe, is 
in these things : — 

1st Health,— without which no sensual* pleasure can 
have any relish. 

2nd. Reputation, — ^>r that I find every body is 
pleased with, and the*§vant of it is a constant torment 

3rd. Knowledge, — for the" little knowledge I have, I 
find I would not sell at any rate, rior part with for any 
other pleasure. 

4th. Doing good, — for I find the well-cooked meat 1 
eat to-day does now no more delight me, nay, I am dis- 
eased after a full meal ; — the perfumes I smelt yesterday 
now no more affect me with any pleasure ; but the good 
turn I did yesterday, a year, seven years since, continues 
still to please and delight me as often as I reflect on it. 

5th. The expectation of eternal and incomprehensible 
happiness in another world is that also which carries a 
constant pleasure with it 

If, then, 1 will faithfully pursue that happiness I pro- 
pose to myself, whatever pleasure offers itself to me, I 
must carefully look that it cross not any of those five 
great and constant pleasures above mentioned. For 
example, the fruit I see tempts me with the taste of it 
that I love; but if it endanger my health, I part with a 
constant and lasting for a very short and transient plea- 
sure, and so foolishly make myself unhappy, and am not 
true to my own interest 

Innocent diversions delight me: if I make use of them 
to refresh myself after study and business, they preserve 
my health, restore the vigour of my mind, and increase 
my pleasure ; but if I spend all, or the greater part of 
my time in them, they hinder my improvement in know- 
ledge .and useful arts, they blast my credit, and give me 
up to the uneasy state of shame, ignorance, and contempt, 
iruwhich J cannot but be very unhappy. Drinking, 
gaming, and vicious delights will do me this mischief, not 
only by wasting my time, but by a positive injury en- 
danger my health; impair my parts, imprint ill habits, 
lessen my esteem, and leave a constant lasting torment 
on my conscience; therefore all vicious and unlawful 
pleasures I will, always avoid, because such a mastery of 
my passions will afford me a constant pleasure greater 
than any such enjoyments, and also deliver me from the 
certain evil of several kinds, that by indulging myself in 
a present temptation I shall certainly afterwards suffer. 
• As opposed to inbUsdaal. 

DS 



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All innocent diversions and delights, as far as they 
will contribute to my health, and consist with my im- 
provement, condition, and my other more solid pleasures 
of knowledge and reputation, I will enjoy, but no farther ; 
and this I will carefully watch and examine, that I may 
not be deceived by the flattery of a present pleasure to 
lose a greater. ^ 

A regulated habit of looking beyond our immediate situa- 
tions is justly considered the parent of all laudable enter- 
prises. But the habit must be regulated, and strictly regu- 
lated, or it will become the source of miseries and crime. 
The secret for its regulation may be shortly expressed. He 
who pursues a future happiness, prosperity, or honour, by the 
right path, does not cast away the good in his possession, nor 
neglect the duties which lie before him ; but lie endeavours 
to shape them by slow degrees to that model of perfection 
which his feelings or his reason have set up. On the other 
hand, he who views some distant object of desire, without 
connecting it with his immediate obligations, neither attains 
the blessings within his reach, nor approaches a single step 
to the ideal good ; he has cast "away the link which connects 
the present with the future. 



Advantages of the Diffusion of Knowledge. — An intel- 
ligent class can scarce ever be, as a class, vicious ; never, 
as a class, indolent. The excited mental activity operates 
as a counterpoise to the stimulus of sense and appetite. 
The new world of ideas ; the new views of the relations of 
things ; the astonishing secrets of the physical properties 
and mechanical powers, disclosed to the well-informed mind, 
present attractions, which, unless -the character is deeply 
sunk, are sufficient to counterbalance the taste for frivolous 
or corrupt pleasures ; and thus, in the end, a standard of 
character is created in the community, which, though it does 
not invariably save each individual, protects the virtue of the 
mass. — Everett s Essay. 

BRITISH ANIMALS. 



THE MOLE. 

The Moles are beginning to throw up the earth, and 
to destroy the herbage of the light soils. What an extra- 
ordinary animal is the mole! We constantly see his 
traces of dcstructiveness, but how difficult is it to track 
him to his hiding-place. And no wonder : his excava- 
tions arc galleries of many feet in length, worked out by 
his snout and strong fore-paws, with all the skill and 
expedition of a human miner ; and when he is alarmed 
he retreats to his citadel, and defies all enemies. The 
mole, as is well known to our country readers, is de- 
stroyed by a trap of peculiar construction, which is dis- 
charged by the little animal passing through it. The 
mole-catcher — in general a quiet old man, who passes the 
winter in making his traps in his chimney corner— comes 
forth at this season with his implements of destruction. 
His practised eye soon discovers the track of the mole, 
from the mound which he throws up to some neighbour- 
ing bank, or from one mound to another. It is in this 
track or run that he sets his trap, a few inches below the 
surface of the ground. As the mole passes through this 



little engine of hi:> ruin he disturbs a peg which holds 
down a strong hazel rod in a bent position. The moment 
the peg is moved the end of the rod which is held down 
flies up, and with it comes up the poor mole, dragged out 
of the earth which he has so ingeniously excavated, to be 
gibbetted without a chance of escape. The trap is very 
simple and effectual ; but, somehow, the moles flourish 
in spite of their human enemies. Mole-catchers, a plod- 
ding, unscientific race/ know little of their trade, which 
requires the most accurate study of the habits of the 
animal. There was a Frenchman of the name of Le 
Court, (he died about two years ago,) a man of great 
knowledge and perseverance^who did not think it be- 
neath him to devote his whole attention to the observa- 
tion of the mole. He established a school for mole- 
catchimr ; and tauxrht many, what he had acquired by 
in e, the art of tracing the mole to his 

hi round, and cutting off his retreat 

T i once saved a large and fertile dis- 

tr inundation by a canal, whose banks 

the muies iiau unaermmed in every direction. Le Court 
alone saw the mischief, and could stop it Doubts have 
been entertained whether moles are really so mischievous 
to the farmer as they are generally supposed to be. * It 
has been said that they assist the draining of land by 
forming their excavations, and that they thus prevent the 
foot-rot in sheep. 

THE WEEK. 
April 15. — Palm-Sunday. — The Palm, in the countries 
where it grows, has been the symbol of triumph in 
ancient and modern times. The triumph which is com- 
memorated on this day is the peaceful entry of Christ 
into Jerusalem. This festival was observed with much 
solemnity in the Catholic times in England, and the 
people were accustomed to make a procession, bearing 
boughs of blossoming willow as most resembling the 
fan-like branches of the palm. An old writer on plants 
says, speaking of willow, u The blossoms come forth 
before any leaves appear, and are in their most flourish- 
ing estate usually about Easter, divers gathering them 
to deck up their houses on Palm-Sunday ; and therefore 
the said flowers are called Palm." The date-palm is in 
many respects one of the most valuable trees of the East, 
affording sustenance to an immense population, and 
cheering a sterile region by its beauty. 



[Date-Palm, and Fruit.] 

April J7.— The birth-day of Edward Stillingfleet 
Bishop of Worcester, a most learned and able pre ate, 
born at Cranbourne, in Dorsetshire, in 1635. Stilling*- 
fieet's greatest and best-known work is his 'Origines 
Sacre, or a Rational Account of Natural and Revealed 
Religion,' first published in 1672 ; a profound and elo- 
quent performance. He is the author also of a consi- 
derable number of other works. He was promoted to 
the See of Worcester soon after the Revolution, and died 
on the 27th of March, 1699. 

April 19, — Maundy Thursday. — Maundy is a cor- 
ruption of the Latin won) pumc/o, to command. This. 



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fe the day oh which the Saviour commanded his disciples 
" to love one another." The acts of love and humility 
which he performed on that day used to be imitated by 
great monarchs of Europe, in washing the feet of the 
poor. A better imitation would have been to have ab- 
stained from those many deeds of tyranny which disfigure 
the ancient annals of every kingdom. At the present 
day, in England, the King's almoner at Whitehall dis- 
tributes silver pence to old and indigent persons on this 
celebration. 

April 20. — Good Friday, being the anniversary of 
our Saviour's crucifixion, is the most solemn fast of the 
Christian Church. The Cross-bun, however, has long 
ceased in England to be the morsel by which the seve- 
rity of the last days of Lent was mitigated. In the old 
time Lent was not " more honoured in the breach than 
the observance.'* We find from the household book of the 
Earl of Northumberland, which was kept in 1512, that 
throughout Lent, " beginning at Shrovetide and ending 
at Easter," the breakfast (a great meal in an ancient 
family) consisted, "for my Lord and my Lady," of 
'* two pieces of salt fish, four herrings, or a dish of 
sprats/' instead of the customary allowance at other 
seasons of " half a chine of mutton or a chine of beef ;" 
and the food at a Lenten supper was equally meagre. 
The transgressors of Lent were subject to ecclesiastical 
1 discipline. Strype, in his ( Memorials,' records that a man 
did penance at St. Paul's Cross, in 1555, for attempting 
to sell two pigs ready drest during the fast 



THE LIBRARY. 



" My Library 
Was Dukedom large enough."— Protpero, w the Tempest. 

The cheapest of all enjoyments by far is that which 
is derived from books. We hold a library, therefore, 
to be among the fittest furniture of even the poorest 
man's cottage. A most important and cheering con- 
sideration in reference to this sort of furniture is, that 
the more the demand for books shall grow and extend 
itself the cheaper are they sure to be sold. Tne price 
even of many new books, owing to the large sale upon 
which the publisher can now count by the increase of 
readers, is now so low, that for a few pounds, expended 
in the course of as many years, a' Al ~ 
ling or two at a time, almost as 
purchased, full of the most ins 
information, as a labouring man 5 
general, leisure to read and study 

Let but the small sum of one puuua iumuaiiy ue ex- 
pended in this way by a working man ; and what a re- 
spectable stock of books might be collected in twenty 
years, gradually increasing as his family grew up If 
the purchases were judiciously made, probably between 
one and two hundred of the most useful volumes in the 
language might be secured for this money. Many of 
them, indeed, would be second-hand copies ; .but, if they 
were in good condition, they would be no worse for that. 
Then, once purchased, this library would remain a va- 
luable property for ever.. Books, however much used, 
if they be only used properly, should never wear out. 
There are many volumes in the great public libraries 
of this and other countries, which have been in use for 
centuries, and yet are in as good'coudition as when they 
came from the press. It is only careless readers that 
destroy or injure books in using them. 

In many situations a much more ample command of- 
books may be obtained by the poorer classes for even 
much less than this cost, by a number of them joining 
together to maintain a common library. This is an 
advantage which books have over other articles of 
furniture. The same library might serve many families 
at the same tinee nearly as well as it could serve any 
->ne of them exclusively. The quantity of chairs and 
tables and other household goods which is required for 



the use of one family cannot accommodate more than 
one, these articles are in constant requisition; their 
possessor cannot admit his neighbours to share them 
with him. But the collection of books which we have 
supposed to be formed in the course of twenty yean, at a 
cost of as many pounds, might be made to dispense its 
benefits among twenty families, without an individual 
belonging to any one of them being- deprived of any part 
of the advantage which he would have enjoyed if he had 
been the only person by whom the books could be read. 
When so many families, then, can be found in the same 
place, disposed to join their contributions for this pur* 
pose, the complete command of such a collection by all 
of them is obtained at a very small cost to each. Instead 
of a pound a year, it is onlv a shillinxr : or, if they choose 
to pay annually a pound ave each of them 

access to twenty times in consequence of 

their union than they couia nave ootained the use of 
separately by the same expenditure. They will probably 
find it best to mix these two advantages— to subscribe, 
say a fourth part of a pound, or five shillings, which will 
still procure them five times as much reading as the ex* 
penditure of the whole pound by each of them separately 
would have procured. 

Such are the advantages of union, here as in every 
thing else. But a farther improvement on popular libra- 
ries has been lately recommended and put in practice in 
some parts of the country, and chiefly in Scotland, by the 
exertions of Mr. Brown, of Haddington. If a poor man 
were every year, or every quarter, to exchange his tables 
and chairs and bedsteads for others of about the same 
value, he would make nothing of the operation except a 
great deal of trouble and waste of time. The .articles 
which he received would not answer his purpose better 
than those which he parted with : he would not derive any 
more accommodation from the strange furniture than he 
might have done from that to which he had been used. 
But here again books have an advantage peculiar to 
themselves. When you have read through one collection, 
another collection, consisting of different works, although 
intrinsically of no greater value, has yet a much greater 
value to you ; the information which the new books com* 
municate forms a positive addition to whatever knowledge 
your mind has already stored up. Hence the idea of itine- 
"braries. Let us suppose that half- 
lages in a particular district have 
, provided, in the manner already 
;ed subscriptions of the inhabitants ; 
made that these six libraries shall 
consist or uiuerem works, and that the several collections, 
instead of remaining stationary, shall move about from 
one village to another the body of readers in each vil- 
lage will obtain the use of six libraries at the cost of one* 
This principle may be applied, of course, either to enlarge 
the command of reading or to diminish the cost, or to 
produi i one effect and partly the other. It 

would \ found the best plan to have a portion 

of eac stationary ; there being certain books, 

of general usenuuess, or in great request, which it would 
be desirable to have everywhere always at hand. 

But there is one great difficulty which both individuals 
and associations frequently feel in purchasing books* 
They are at a loss to know what books it is best for them 
to procure : or, if they are anxious to procure a particu- 
lar work, they do not know which is the edition that is 
likely, from its price or other recommendations, best to 
suit them. We propose in a series of short notices under 
our present title to lay before our readers, from time to 
time, such information as may assist them in the task of 
selection, in reference both to old and to new books. 
Without professing to go over the different departments 
of literature in any regular order,' but rather seeking to 
give variety to our pages, and at the same time to meet 
the views of different readers, by passing from one sub- 
ject to another, we shall from time to time give aocounte 



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of works, which may in our opinion deserve Jthe attention 
either of managers of popular libraries or of individual 
buyers of books ; or which, although it might not be 
fcdyisaWe to purchase them, deserve in whole or in 
jferiicular parts to be consulted by those who may have 
the opportunity. We shall in this way gradually provide 
*tfiose who may preserve our paper with a body of 
^directions, embracing all the most important matters 
'ifrhfch are necessary to be known for the right furnish- 
ing of a library for the use of common readers. Of 
course we do not mean to direct our attention to any 
works except such as every man decently educated 
for the business of ordinary life may aspire to become 
Acquainted with. With what is more peculiarly called 
learning we have here, nothing to do. But all works 
belonging to what may be called popular science and 
literature will come within our plan, whether they treat 
of natural history, so much of natural philosophy as 
may be understood without tecl moral 

philosophy, criticism, history, aphy, 

voyages and travels, or any c milar 

nature. Nor shall we omit to mention such 01 the pro- 
ductions of our great poets and writers of fiction as may 
most fitly make part of a popular library. Our aim, shall 
be in every case to describe the work, not by any vague 
general criticism, but by a distinct account of what it 
actually contains, and hat itcontains which 

is not to he found it on the same subject 

Keeping buyers, also, as wen as uur readers in view, we 
shall always be careful to notice both the price at which 
the book may be purchased, and the edition which it is 
best to procure. One edition of ft book sometimes differs 
as much in value from another, or is, in truth, although 
bearing the same title, as much another book, as if it 
had really been So designated. Of two editions, accord- 
ingly, one is often very valuable, while another is nearly 
worthless. We believe uninformed purchasers of books 
•are very often cheated by having bad editions sold to 
them for the same money for which the best editions 
might have been procured. 

Notices of tlnVkind, as we have said, will form a 
useful guide hoth to book-societies, and also to indivi- 
duals who may have the desire and the means of fur- 
nishing themselves with a small library. The means, 
-ind**^, ^effect this object will seldom be wanting where 
the desire is felt. We hope to see the day whan even 
the poorest man's cottage will not be thought to be 
becomingly furnished without having a few shelves in 
one of its apartments filled with provision for the mind. 
This indeed is sure to take place as soon as the working 
classes shall have become generally educated. Books 
will then be deemed a necessary of life, or at least as 
indispensable as anything else whatever, after food, 
shelter, and clothing. 



THE WOODMAN'S MEMORIAL. 
[From the l Plain Englishman j' published in 1821-2-3.] 

I was once rambling in the most unfrequented parts of 
Windsor Forest, on a fine evening during the season 
between the hay and the corn harvest Every thing 
about me was verdant and beautiful. I had passed along 
a little green, skirted with cottages, op my way to an 
unvisited part of the forest; and I had remarked the 
healthful and innocent looks of the children, who were 
playing on the road-side, and had beheld, with an equal 
satisfaction, many an industrious labourer either repos- 
ing at his cottage-door, or cheerfully prolonging his 
exertions, to train the beans, or weed the potatoes, of 
his little garden. At the porch of one or two pottages, 
M theswink'd* hedger at his supper sate," as Milton 
has naturally expressed this characteristic of an English 
evening, — and several groups of parents and children 
Were gathered round their humble but cheerful meal, 
•Tired. 



in the neatly sanded kitchen, whose door stood open 
to admit the sweet breath of the evening breeze. 

My way conducted me from this scene of animated 
existence to one of the deepest solitude. I struck across 
a field or two, which at once led me into one o£ the n;ost 
unfrequented parts of the forest. The sun was yet 
brightly shining in the west, but his rays did not pierce 
the thick gloom of the elms and beeches into which 
I had penetrated. The place was singularly wild, and 
seemed scarcely to belong to the quiet scenery of our 
inland counties. A rapid stream, which in winter must 
become a torrent, had formed a deep ravine, with high 
and precipitous banks ; the fern grew about in the 
wildest profusion ; the old roots of the trees which 
hung over the bourn, as the people of the forest still 
call it, were bared to the wind and frost; but they 
grasped the earth resolutely and firmly, offering no in- 
appropriate image of a strong mind struggling with ad 
versity. As I walked on, endeavouring to follow the 
course of the stream, the scene became still more soli- 
tary. I could gain no eminence to look round upon 
the surrounding country ; I could not hear either the 
tinkling of the sheep-bell, the low of cattle, or the bark 
of the watch-dog ; even the herds of deer had forsaken 
this spot of unbroken solitude. 

The course of the bourn led me on through the same 
wild and tangled scenery for more than a mile. I at 
length arrived at a spot where my attention was power- 
fully excited by traces of human industry, which had 
something extraordinary in their appearance. On a 
large beech-tree was rudely carved the letters T. C, and 
beneath the figures 1787. My attention was drawn to 
the contradiction which the freshness of the carviug pre- 
sented to the remoteness of the date. Near the t:ee 
the grass and fern sprung up with a rank luxuriance ; 
no cattle ever seemed to pasture in this secluded spot. 
Where the gr rhest there was a remarkable 

appearance, m not have been the effect of ac 

cident. For „„ v «. M& .. v feet in length and two in width 
the grass had been carefully cut away ; indeed, the small 
surface was as closely trimmed as a newly-mown mea- 
dow, while the long grass grew around it as if the 
scythe had never violated its useless luxuriance. I was 
forcibly struck by these appearances, and I determined 
to return to the village for the purpose of seeking an 
explanation. 

I inquired .at several cottages without obtaining any 
satisfactory solution. There were few who knew the spot 
to which my questions referred. I at last addressed 
myself to one whose garb bespoke the occupation of a 
woodman. Fie was old, and had evidently borne much 
fatigue and hardship. He said that he could explain all 
that I wanted to know, for that he every year cut afresh 
the bark of the beech-tree, and removed the high grass 
with his sickle as fast as it grew. It was to commeme- 
rate an awful event that happened on that spot. His 
narrative had many pauses and breaks ; but it was in 
substance as follows: — : 

" It was in the year 1787 that a fellow-woodman 
met his death in that lonely place. It was on a fine 
summer evening, as it may be now, that a dozen 
of us were sitting down beneath that beech-tree to 
refresh ourselves after our day's labour. We had 
been felling some trees close at hand, and a hard day's 
work we had of it. The bailiff ordered us some beer, 
and as we were returning home we met the boy coming 
with it, and we sat ourselves down in that high gprass 
to enjoy it. We Were tired and hot, and we drank 
freely. We got to talk about our own great doings, and 
one boasted how much money he could earn, and ano- 
ther bragged how much beer he could drink. There 
was a quarrelsome chap amongst us — his name -was 
Joe D-— , and he bullied and hectored poor Tom 

C in a strange way. Tom bore if*all patiently for 

some time, for he was a quiet, harmless fellow, stud he 



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perhaps bethought him that a quarrel woufd not do 
any good to his wife and children. At last Joe, who 
was filling out the mugs of beer, instead of handing 
Tom his allowance, threw it in his face. The* poor fel- 
low could not bear this — for, though goodnatured, he did 
not want spirit. He resented the insult. The other 
grew more saucy and savage, and at last he hit Tom a 
,blow in the face. I am ashamed of myself, and of all 
the set, when I recollect how, for the love of mischief, 
we encouraged the quarrel, and got up to make a ring 
for two fellow-creatures to strive against each other like 
brute beasts. To it they went ; in five minutes poor 
Tom received a blow in the stomach, and he never spoke 
afterwards. He fell down where the grass is cut away, 
and he breathed his last under the beech-tree where the 
letters are carved. We carried him in our arms to the 
cottage ; — oh, that was a scene for his poor wife which I 
never, never shall forget ! Joe fled the country ; — I saw 
him many years after, but lie slunk along like a ghost, 
and I would much rather have died in my youth, like my 
poor fellow-woodman, than have borne about the fire 
which that man must have had in his heart. I do what 
I can to preserve the remembrance of poor Tom, as you 
see, for I am the last left of all who saw his frightful 
death. I have told my boys never to let the grass grow 
there when I am gone ; maybe the sight of mat lonely 
token of him may lead some to ask about it, as you 
have done ; and the knowledge of the fatal effect of sad- 
den quarrels may teach our children to live in peace with 
all about them." 

%*^We hare the Author's permission, in this and other extracts 
from ' The Plain Englishman/ to make such alterations of the 
original as may be deemed advisable. 



which are considered neutral, afford the smugglers great 
facilities. The efficiency of the protection afforded to 
home manufactures by prohibitory duties may be esti- 
mated by the fact that an insurance may be readily 
effected upon smuggled goods at a rate varying from 
10 to 15 per cent. This fact is notorious in Austrian 
Lombardy. The results of the system are, loss to the 
government, which might derive a moderate duty on im- 
portation, — loss to the consumer who pays high for 
goods,, which, after all, he must use, — and loss to the 
country at large, which has to support a useless host of 
custom-house officers, and whose exports are limited by 
the trammels thus imposed on importation. Besides 
these evils, habits of fraud and contempt for the laws are 
fostered among the trading classes, and among the rural 
population of the border districts* 



PROTECTION OF TRADB. 

[From a Correspondent.] 

Thb Austrian government, like several other Continen- 
tal governments, still adheres to the system of high du- 
ties, amounting to prohibition, on foreign manufactured 
goods. This is done with the intention of favouring 
home manufactures. Now mark the consequences ! In 
1817, an order came from Viennr, assimilating the 
custom-houses of Lombardy to those of the rest of the 
empire, and subjecting foreign manufactures to a duty 
of 60 per cent, on the value, equal, in short, to prohi- 
bition in most cases. Large buildings were soon after 
erected into manufactories, a few clever workmen en- 
gaged for a time, some pieces of calicoes, muslins, &c. 
woven and pompously exhibited, after which the manu- 
facturer supplied himself with English, Swiss, and 
French cloths* by means of smuggling, which was- 
carried on to an immense extent all along the vast line 
of frontiers, the delivery being insured by companies 
established in the neighbouring states, and the pieces, 
marked with the imperial stamp, came out of the manu- 
factories as home productions; the shops were full of 
foreign goods. Meantime, the custom-house receipts fell 
off one-half, custom-house officers and gendarmes were 
multiplied and maintained at a vast expense, whilst all 
along the frontier districts, there sprung up a propor- 
tionate array of smugglers, men who, by their perilous 
vocation, become familiar with violence and bloodshed, 
and by whom the peace of the country is continually 
endangered. The mock-manufacturers, if prosecuted, 
can show that they are able to make such and such 
pieces of the goods, and unless taken in the act of smug- 
fling, there are no means of convicting them. The 
smuggling is carried on chiefly through the frontiers of 
Redmont and Switzerland, countries which have had the 
food sense to reject the protecting system. A great 
proportion of the population of the Canton Ticino lives 
entirely by smuggling foreign goods into Austrian Ix>m- 
bardy. The lakes Maggiore and Lugano, the waters of 



A MAN OVERBOARD. 

[From Capt. B. Hail's Fragments of Voyages and Travels. 

Second Series.] 

I remember once, when cruising off Terceira in the 
Endymion, that a man fell overboard and was drowned. 
After the usual confusion, and long search in vain, the * 
boats were hoisted up, and the hands called to make sai). 
I was officer of the forecastle, and on looking about to 
see if all the men were at the station, missed one of the 
foretop-men. Just at that moment I observed some one 
curled up, and apparently hiding himself under the bow 
of the barge, between the boat and the booms. " Hillo I.'* 
I said, " who are you ? What are you doing here, you 
skulker ? Why are you not at your station ?*' " I am 
not skulking, sir, " said the poor fellow, the furrows in 
whose bronzed and weather-beaten cheek were running 
down with tears. ,* The man we had just lost had been 
his mess-mate and friend, he told me, for ten years. I 
begged his pardon, in full sincerity, for having used such 
harsh words to him at such a moment, and bid him go 
below to his berth for the rest of the day. " Never 
mind, sir, never mind," said the kind-hearted seaman, 
" it can't be helped. You meant no harm, sir. I am as 
well on deek as below. Bill's gone, sir, but I must do 
my duty." So saying, he drew the sleeve of his jacket 
twice or thrice across his eyes, and smothering his grief 
within his breast, walked to his station as if nothing had 
happened. 

In the same ship, and nearly about the same time, 
the people were bathing alongside in a calm at sea. It 
is customary on such occasions to spread a studding-sail 
on the water, by means of lines from the fore and main 
yard-arms, for the use of those who either cannot swim, 
or who are not expert. in this art, so very important to all 
seafaring people. Half a dozen of the ship's boys, 
youngsters sent on board by that admirable and most 
patriotic of naval institutions, the Marine Society, were_ 
floundering about in the sail, and sometiffies^even ven- 
turing beyond the leecJMrofyr: — One of the least of these 
urchins, but not the least courageous of their number, 
when taunted by his more skilful companions with being 
afraid, struck out boldly beyond the prescribed bounds. 
He had not gone much farther than his own length, 
however,- along the surface of the fathomless sea,' when 
his heart failed him, poor little man ! and along with his 
confidence away also went his power of keeping his head 
above water. Bo down he sank rapidly, to the speechless 
horror of the other boys, who, of course, could lend the 
drowning child no help. 

The captain of the forecastle, a tall, fine-looking, 
hard-a-weather fellow, was standing on the shank of the 
sheet-anchor with his arms across, and his well-varnished 
canvass hat drawn so much over his eyes, that it was dif- 
ficult to tell whether he was awake, or merely dozing in 
the sun, as he leaned his back against the fore-topmast 
backstay. The seaman, however, had been attentively 



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watching the young party all the time, and rather fearing 
that mischief might ensue from their rashness, he had 
grunted out a warning to them from time to time, to 
which they paid no sort of attention. At last he desisted, 
saying they might drown themselves if they had a mind, 
for never a bit would he help them ; but no sooner did 
the sinking figure of the adventurous little boy catch his 
eye, than, diver-fashion, he joined the palms of his hands 
over his head, inverted his position in one instant, and 
urging himself into swifter, motion by a smart push with 
his feet against the anchor, shot head-foremost into the 
" water. The poor lad sunk so rapidly that he was at least 
a couple of fathoms under the surface before he was 
arrested by the grip of the sailor, who soon rose again, 
bearing the bewildered boy in his hand; and calling to 
the other youngsters to take better care of their com- 
panion, chucked him right into the belly of the sail in the 
midst of the party. The fore-sheet was hanging in the 
calm, nearly into the water, and by it the dripping sea- 
v man scrambled up again to his old berth on the anchor, 
* shook himself like a great Newfoundland dog, and then, 
jumping on the deck, proceeded across the forecastle to 
shift himself. 

At the top of the ladder he was stopped by the marine 
officer, who had witnessed the whole transaction, as he 
sat across the gangway hammocks, watching the swim- 
mers, and trying to get his own consent to undergo the 
labour of undressing and dressing. Said the soldier to 
the sailor, " That was very well done of you, my man, 
and right well deserves a glass of grog. Say so to the 
gun-room steward as you pass ;^and tell him it is my 
orders to fill you out a stiff nor-wester." The soldiers 
offer was kindly meant, but rather clumsily timed, at least 
so thought Jack ; for though he inclined his head in ac- 
knowledgment of the attention, and instinctively touched 
his hat when spoken to by an officer, he made no reply 
till out of the marine's hearing, when he laughed, or 
rather chuckled out to the people near him, " Does the 
good gentleman suppose I'll take a glass of grog for 
saving a boy's life ?" 

THE FIRMAMENT. 
[William HAsntoroit, born 1605, died 1654.1 
Whxn I survey the bright 
CeUwHal iphere: 
So rich with jewel* hung, that night 
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear. 
My eoul her wings doth spread, 
And Heaven-ward flies, 
The Almighty's mysteries to read 
In the large volumes of the skies. 
For the bright firmament 
Shoots forth no flame 
So sQent, but is eloquent 
* In speaking the Creator's name. 

No unregarded star 
Contracts its tight 
SMUfmaU a character 
RamovMfiur &o»-i c*r humane sight t 
But if we steadfast look, 
We shall discern 
In it, as in some holy book, 
How man may heavenly knowledge 1 
Thus those celestial fires, 
Though seeming mute ; 
The fallacy of our desires. 
And all the pride of life confute. 
For they have watched since first 
The world had birth ; 
And found sin in itself accurst, 
And nothing permanent on earth. 

Mr* Scott, of Exeter, travelled on business till about 
eighty years of age. He was one of the most celebrated cha- 
racters in the kingdom for punctuality, and by his methodical 
conduct, joined to uniform diligence, he gradually amassed 
a large fortune. For a long series of years, the proprietors of 
every inn he frequented in Devon and Cornwall knew the day 
and the very hour he would'arrive. A short time before he 
died, a gentleman on » journey in Cornwall stopped at a small 




inn at Port'Isaac to dine. The waiter presented him with a 
bill of fare, which he did not approve of, but observing a fine 
duck roasting, " I'll have that," said the traveller. " You 
cannot, sir," said the landlord, " it is for Mr. Scott of Exe- 
ter." " I know Mr. Scott very well,* rejoined the gentle- 
man, " he is not in your house." " True, sir," said the 
landlord, " but six months ago, when he was here last, he 
ordered a duck to be ready for him this day, precisely at two 
o'clock ; and to the astonishment of the traveller, he saw the, 
old gentleman jogging into the inn-yard about five minute* 
before the appointed time. 

When Lord Nelson was leaving London, on his last but 
glorious expedition against the enemy, a quantity of cabin 
furniture was ordered to be sent on board bis ship. He had 
a farewell dinner-party at his house; and the upholsterer 
having waited upon his lordship, with an account of the com- 
pletion of the goods, was brought into the eating-room, in a 
corner of which his lordship spoke with him. The up- 
holsterer stated to his noble employer, that everything was 
finished and packed, and would go in the waggon, from a 
certain inn, at six o'clock. " And you go to the inn, Mr. A n 
and see them off?" " I shall, my lord ; I shall be there 
punctually at six." " A quarter before six, Mr. A- (re- 
turned Lord, Nelson), be there a quarter before six. To that 
quarter of an hour I owe everything in life." 

Dr. Fowler, bishop of Gloucester, in the early part of the 
eighteenth century, was a believer in apparitions. The fid- 
lowing conversation of the bishop with Judge Powell is 
recorded: — 

" Since I saw you," said the lawyer, " I have had ocular 
demonstration of the existence of nocturnal apparitions.*' 

I am glad you are become a convert to truth ; but do 
you say actual ocular demonstration? Let me know the 
particulars of the story." 

"My lord, I will. It was, let me see, last Thursday 
night, between the hours of eleven and twelve, but nearer 
the latter than the former, as I lay sleeping in my bed, I 
was suddenly awakened by an uncommon noise, and heard 
something coming up stairs and stalking directly toward* my 
room ; the door flying open, I drew back my curiam, and law 
a faint glimmering light enter my chamber." 

" Of a blue colour no doubt." 

" The light was of a pale blue, my lord, and followed bv 
a tall meagre personage, his locks hoary with age, ana 
clothed in a long loose gown, a leathern girdle was about 
his loins, his beard thick and grizly, a large ftur capon his 
head, and a long staff in his hand. Struck with astonish- 
ment, I remained for some time motionless and silent ; the 
figure advanced, staring me full in the face: I then said, 
Whence, and what art thou ?" . 

" What was the answer — tell me — what was the answer ?*' 

" The following was the answer I received : — ' I am watch- 
man of the night, an % t please your honour, and made bold to 
come up stairs to inform the family of their street door being 
open, and that if it was not soon shut, they would probably 
be robbed before morning.' " 

Only the nation which invented 'comfort' was capable of 
conceiving ' good temper,' for ' good temper' is to the moral 
what l comfort' is to the physical man. It is the most con- 
tented, the most comfortable state of the soul : the greatest 
happiness both for' those who possess it, and for those who 
feel its influence. Perhaps it is found in perfection in woman 
alone ; for it is rather a passive than an active quality : and 
yet we must by no means confound it with mere apathy, 
which is either tedious, or exasperates one's anger and con- 
tempt ; whereas • good temper' soothes and tranquillizes all 
who approach it. It is a truly kind, loving, and cheerful 
principle ; mild anfl balmy as a cloudless May-day. With 
* gentleness' in his own character, 'comfort' in his house, 
and ' good temper' in his wife, the earthly felicity of man ■ 
complete. — Tour of a German Prince. 



LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT/ PALL-MALL EAST". . 
Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be implied JFMcMb by the fothwitf 



London, Gboombiximk, Panyer-AUey, 

Paternoster-Row. 
Birmingham, Drakk. 
Leeds, Bainis and Go. 
Liverpool, Willmkx and Surra. 



Manchester, RoBurtow. 
Dublin, Wakxmait. 
Edinburgh, Olivb* aodBoTV 
Qlasgow, A-rxiNfOir. 



Pr^it* bjJJiWjiAH Qwtrst, Stamford Street, 



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PUBLISHED EVERT SATURDAY. 



[April 21, 1882. 



SUGAR. 
Sugar may be properly reckoned a necessary of life. 
It is of almost universal use throughout the world. 
The scattered tribes of North American Indians spend, 
the months of spring in their rude encampments, manu- 
facturing sugar out of the juice of the maple ; — the five- 
and-twenty million inhabitants of the United Kingdom 
employ, throughout the year> two hundred thousand 
tons of shipping to export five hundred million pounds 
of sugar from their colonies. This enormous supply 
affords, upon an average, 201bs. of sugar to each indivi- 
dual of our twenty-five millions of population. Through 
the natural operation of our commercial power this im- 
portant article of comfort is placed within the reach of 
the humblest in the land, although the revenue received 
by the state from the consumers amounts to 5,000,000/. 
annually. 



The Sugar-cane must be considered as a native of 
China, since it has been pretty accurately shown that its 
cultivation was prosecuted in that empire for two thou- 
sand years before sugar was even known in Europe, 
and for a very long period before other eastern nations 
because acquainted with its use. For some time after 
this substance, in its crystalline form, had found its way 
to the westward, through India and Arabia, a singular 
degree of ignorance prevailed in regard to its nature, 
and the mode of its production ; . and there is reason 
for believing that the Chinese, who have always evinced 
an unconquerable repugnance to foreign intercourse, 
purposely threw a veil of mystery over the subject. 
Persons have not been wanting, even in modern times, 
who have approved of this anti-social spirit, as being 
the perfection of political wisdom ; — but is it not a 
complete answer to their opinion, that every nation 
which has cultivated commercial relations has been 
steadily advancing in civilization, and adding most im- 
portantly to the s"ym of its comforts and conveniences? 

: Yol. i 



while the inhabitants of China, although possessed of 
the greatest natural advantages, arising from variety of 
soil and climate, by which advantages they had so long 
ago placed themselves in advance of other people, have 
remained altogether stationary ? ■ 

A knowledge of the origin of cane sugar was cor- 
rectly revealed in the middle of the thirteenth century, 
by the celebrated traveller Marco Polo ; though it was 
partially known anuch earlier. The plant was soon con- 
veyed to Arabia, Nubia, Egypt, ana Ethiopia, where it 
became extensively cultivated. Early in the fifteenth 
century the sugar-cane first appeared in Europe. Sicily 
took the lead in its cultivation; thence it passed to 
Spain, Madeira, and the Canary Islands; and shortly 
after the discovery of the New World by Columbus, this 
plant was conveyed to Hayti and Brazil, from which 
latter country it gradually spread through the islands 
of the West Indies. 

The sugar-cane varies exceedingly in its growth* 
depending upon the nature of the soil. In new and 
moist land it sometimes attains the height of twenty 
feet. It is always propagated from cuttings. The 
hoeing of a cane-field is a most laborious operation 
when performed, as it must be, under the rays of a 
tropical sun. Formerly this task was always effected 
by hand labour, but, of late years, where the nature of 
the ground will admit of the employment of a plough, 
that instrument has been substituted, to the mutual ad- 
vantage of the planter and his labourers. The planting 
of canes does not require to be renewed annually; in 
such a case the utmost number of labourers now em- 
ployed on a sugar plantation would be wholly inadequate 
to its performance. 

When the canes are fully ripe they are cut close to 
the ground, and being then divided into convenient 
lengths, are tied up in bundles, and conveyed to the 
mill. The canes, on being passed twice between the 
cylinders of this null, have all their juice expressed. 
This is collected in a cistern, and must be immediately 
placed under process by heat to prevent its becoming 
acid. A certain quantity of lime in powder, or of lime- 
water, is added at this time to promote the separation of 
the grosser matters contained in the juice; and these 
being as far as possible removed at a heat just sufficient 
to cause the impurities to collect together on the surface, 
th$«en^guor is then subjected to a very rapid boiling, 
in otdm to evaporate the watery particles, and bring 
the syrup to such a consistency that it will granulate On 
cooling. Upon an average, every five gallons, imperial 
measure, of cane-juice, will yield six pounds of crys- 
tallized sugar, and will be obtained from about one 
hundred and ten well-grown canes. 

When the sugar is 
it is pu* into the ho 
Europe. These casl 
holes, and are placed 
which the molasses— i 
matter that will not 
the raw sugar in th 
grocers' shops: the 
down, and shipped. 

The molasses whi 
together with all the 
collected, and, being i 
production of rum. 

[Abridged fiom < Vegetable Substances used ftr th* Food of M*».') 

E 



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[Afril 21, 



LONGEVITY. 



It is stated in the Warsaw Gazette, that a shepherd 
named Demetrius Grabowsky, died a short time sinoe at 
Potorski, on the frontiers of Lithuania, at the great age 
of 169 years. Jenkins, the oldest man on record in 
England, lived exactly as long as the Polish shepherd. 
Old Parr reached 152 years. It is said that Grabowsky 
has left a son who is now 120 years old. A female died 
lately in Poland aged 124 Joseph Ram, a negro, aiibrds 
the most extraordinary recent instance of longevity, next 
to Grabowsky ; he died at the age of 146. 

A scientific correspondent of the * Examiner,* a paper 
which always attends to such remarkable exceptions to 
the ordinary term of human life, wishes that those to 
whom such cases are personally fcnown, would collect 
and publish the circumstances for which the individuals 
were remarkable, particularly their habits. Sir John 
Sinclair, in his « Code of Health and Longevity/ has 
stated that all of a great number of very old persons, 
whom he questioned, were alike only in two particular* 
—they were descended from parents of good constitu- 
tions, and— (what perhaps they could better affirm)-— 
they were early risen. 

STATISTICAL NOTES. 

ENGLAND AND WALES* 

(1.) The total population of England and Wales, accord- 
ing to the census taken in 1831, is 13,894,574 ♦. The rate 
ofincrease of such population, between 1801 and 1811, 
was 14 percent.; between 1811 and 182 J, 17} per 
cent; between 1821 and 1831, 14 percent; and be- 
tween 1700 and 1831, 135 per cent The increase of 
the forty English counties, taken together, since 1700, 
has been 154 per cent, and that of the twelve Welsh 
counties 117 per cent 

(2.) Of the following ten counties or districts, being 
the most remarkable for their manufactures, the average 
rate ofincrease, since 1700, has been 295 per cent, as 
thus appears : — 

Increase ptr Cwl 



~^s~. 



PopnUtion, __ 

Connfiet. Ml. 1801-1). 1811-21. 1391-3L 1700-1831. 

Lancaster . . 1,336,854 23 27 27 800 

'*&££*. } 97 M15 16 ^22 22 450 

Warwick . . 336,988 Id 20 23 251 

Stafford . . 410,485 21 15 20 250 

Nottingham . 225,320 16 15 20 246 

Chester . . 334,410 18 19 24 212 

Durham . . 253,827 11 17 22 166 

Monmouth . 98,130 36 15 36 147 

Worcester. . 211,356' 15 15 15 140 

Salop . . . 222,503 16 6 8 119 

4,406,288 18} *20J ~&l *2»5 
(3.) Of the following thirteen counties or districts, be- 
ing in part agricultural, and in part manufacturing, viz. 
Surrey, Kent, Sussex, Cornwall, Cumberland, South- 
ampton, Gloucester, Derby, Leicester, Middlesex, East 
Riding of ^rk, Somerset, and Hertford, the total po- 
pulation, and average rate of increase, are, — 

InenaM per Gent. 
Pbpataioa, 

1831. 
5,319,756 



(4.) Of the remaining nineteen English counties or 
districts, being almost entirely agricultural, viz. Devon, 
Essex, North Riding of York, Bedford, Suffolk, Berks, 
Oxford, Westmoreland, Northumberland, Cambridge, 
Norfolk, Buckingham, Lincoln, Dorset, Wilts, Hunt- 
ingdon, Northampton, Hereford, and Rutland, the total 
population, and average rate of increase, are,— 

Uereato per Gent. 
Population, i 

*™?La WOl-lSll. 1811-1*1. 1821-1831. 1700-1831 
3,727,920 9} 154 10* 84 

In the last-mentioned counties, the highest increase, 
since 1700, has been in Devonshire, of 99 per cent ; 
and the lowest in Hereford and Rutland, being rel 
•pectively 36 and 17 ner cent. Norfolk is at about the 
average, being 86 per cent. The slow increase of the 
population of these agricultural counties, which has not 
nearly doubled itself in a period of 130 years, is w jrthy 
of observation, because the received law of population, 
according to Mr. Malthus, is, that population, when 
unchecked, increases in a geometrical progression of such 
a nature aa to double itself every twenty-five years. 

(5.) North and South Wales stand together as rbt- 



K 



1801-1811. 
161 



1831—1831. 



«oTS£ 



1811-1821. 

The highest rate ofincrease, since 1700, in these coun- 
ties, has been in Surrey, where it has been 214 per cent ; 
and the lowest, in Hertfordshire, of 103 per cent. Mid- 
dlesex, since that period, has increased 117 percent, and 
the rate of increase has diminished one per cent since 
1821, having been 19 per cent for the last ten years. 
Its present population is 1,358,541. 

j, Z ^ numbers stated in the following analysis will be found to 
differ from an abstract of the returns published by Mr. Hickman • 
tood aiso .from the totals given as those of the respective counties, in 
the parliamentary returns just issued. The numbers in t hit article 
are taken from the summary published with those returns, in which 
the errors ansing^om imperfect returns have been corrected. 



Population. 

18317^ 

805,236 



'ncnue per Cent 



1801-1811. 
13 



18S1-1831. 1700—1831. 
12 117 



1811—1881 
17* 

(6.) The territorial extent of the ten manufacturing 
counties first named, according to parliamentary docu- 
ments, together with the value of property therein, have 
been thus estimated :— 




Comparing the population with the extent, it thus 
appears that Lancashire contains more than one inha- 
bitant to every acre,— that Warwick and Stafford have 
more than one to every two acres,— that NottinirKam 
and Chester have about one to two acres,— and that the 
Other Jour have about one to between two and three 



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These counties may, therefore, altogether be considered 
«• exceeding the average population of England and 
Wales, which, compared to a superficies of 37,084,400 
statute acres, gives a ratio of one inhabitant to every 
two and a half acres. 

(7.) For some of the remaining counties, the returns 
are as follows :— 






fill 






h 

3 



•a 

i 

<2 



S5 



£ 8 



8 1 



8 | fe 5 15 Sf 



a 



co — #-« 



s 



00 
(O 
00 
00* 



8. 



2 £ IS 3 © 8 8 

s 1 a s g • a 



4 

a 

t 



% 3? 

IS 



<* <M 



•-« «/) •—• *x 



*-• «o c* 

3 S S3 
a «, «> 



ri! 



■** 



3-5 
1= 



Jig 

111 

3,3 



of 



3C 



* 3f 1 fe fc 

f« iA do O <p 









© © o 

2 8 1 

•rf ■-» cT 

9 S 2 



i" 



§ 




Here we see Middlesex with a population of more than 
seven to a statute acre ; Surrey with one to an acre ; 
Southampton, Devonshire, and Norfolk, with about one 
to every three acres ; Buckingham with about one to 
four ; and Hereford with one to five acres. 

(8.) In the order of the value of property, the fol- 
lowing six of the counties of England and Wales rank 
foremost:— 

Middlesex, Lancaster, Lincoln, 

York, Somerset, Devon ; 

and the following six are, in that respect, of the least 
importance, viz. 

Hertford, Huntingdon, Monmouth, 

. Bedford, Westmoreland, Rutland. 

The value of the property assessed, compared with 
the numbers of the people, is a good test of the state of 
agriculture in a given district. Thus, if Bedfordshire, with 
a population of 95,400, is assessed at only -£364,277 
real property, and a Scotch county (Berwickshire), with 
only one-third of the population of Bedfordshire, is as- 
sessed at considerably more than two-thirds of real pro- 
perty, the inference is, that there is some imperfection in 
the state of things in Bedfordshire. The contrast between 
the English and Scotch agricultural counties will be 
shown hereafter under the head of Scotland. 
' <9.) If we divide England into North and South, by 
a line drawn from the Wash in Lincolnshire to the Severn, 
the total population of the eighteen counties north of the 
line will appear to be 6,130,581, and of the twenty-two 
counties south of it 6,958,755; so that the southern 
sounties still possess the larger population, notwithstand- 



97 

ing its rapid growth in the north. There is no coal 
south of the line, with the exception of comparatively 
mconsiderable beds in Gloucester and Somerset ; and the 
relative condition of the labouring population in the two 
divisions is, in many respects, much contrasted, as will 
be seen on reference to the state of pauperism, of crime, 
and of other matters about to be noticed. 
[To be continued." 



INSTRUCTION OF THE DEAF AND DUMB. 

The sixth number of « The Quarterly ^Journal of Edu- 
cation,' just published, contains a very interesting paper 
on the curious subject of instructing the deaf and dumb. 
Most persons are greatly puzzled to know how a child, 
that can neither hear nor speak, can be taught to read 
and write, and express the most complex ideas. Some 
of this wonder may be perhaps removed by the following 
account of the method pursued by the Abbe Sicard, in 
establishing a connexion in the mind of a pupil between 
an object and a word : — 

" Sicard placed before the learner various familiar 
objects, drawing them at the same time before his eyes 
on a board. He is then taught to point toHhe object 
on being shown the picture. He now tries his own 
skill in drawing, and is delighted to find that he also is 
understood by others. When the relation between the 
actual object and its picture has been well established, 
the letters of the alphabet are written in a corner of the 
board, and the pupil is desired to take notice of them. 
The name of the object is then written round its picture. 
This is a great mystery to the pupil, and his astonishment 
is increased when the instructor rubs out the picture, 
leaving only the letters. While the pupil is wondering 
what this maj mean, the instructor shows the letters to# 
a third person, who immediately selects a corresponding 
object from among a number. This process is repeated, 
and the student himself is allowed to find, that when 
he draws the same uncouth characters, he is equally suc- 
cessful in directing the attention of a third person to the 
object, and this also when he places the letters in one 
horizontal line. He is then made to find out this effect 
will not be produced, if the order of the Tetters be de 
ranged. This discourages him, but not for any long 
period, since his memory of impressions produced by the 
eye is unusually keen, owing to his peculiar situation. The 
pictures are now dropped, and the name of every new 
object is given to him in ordinary characters, not that he 
has any notion what connexion the component parts of 
his new symbols have with the sounds which occur in 
spoken language ; he has no idea of sound, or at least 
of articulation, and he looks at a word, such as table, as 
a whole, conventionally used to represent a certain piece 
of furniture. Our reader, if he really can read, as the 
epitaph says, does the same thing. He also reads by 
words, not by syllables or letters, for at one glance,. and 
without being conscious of recalling any one particular 
letter, he passes from word to word, and, in simple sen- 
tences, almost from paragraph to paragraph. The only 
difference between the child who is deaf and dumb, and 
any other who is not, is, that the latter is already familiar 
with a sound which stands between the object and its 
written symbol. The pupil is thus enabled to learn the 
written names of every thing which can be placed before 
bis eyes, The adjective or quality of an object remains 
to be taught." 

This process is much more complicated ; but it is well 
explained in the article to which we refer., 



Tgs Persians think that all foreign merchants come to 
them from a small island imthe northern waters, barren 
and desolate, which produces nothing good or beautiful ! • 
u For why else," say they, "do the Europeans fetch sow* 
tfcmgt from us, if they axe to bad at home? " 



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*HE PENNY MAGAZINE, 



[April M, 



ROOKS. 

This is the season in which rooks are carrying on the 
roost active employment of their lives. They are build- 
ing and repairing their nests. Every one who has lived 
in the neighbourhood of a rookery must have had his 
attention awakened to these noisy workmen. Rooks 
nestle in large communities. Ten or twelve nests are 
sometimes to be seen on the same tree ; and there are 
frequently considerable numbers of trees thus loaded 
with nests, all contiguous to each other. Though they 
usually select tall trees, they do not so in every case. 
In the garden of the Royal Naval Asylum, at Green- 
wich, a ' rookery is established upon some low trees, 
although there are many fine lofty elms in the park 
bard by, upon which not a single rook's nest is to be 
seen. It is not improbable that they have been in- 
fluenced in their selection by a love of the noise of the 
boys in the play-ground of the Asylum. In the middle 
of (he town of Dorchester is a large rookery, which 
has been established for many years, upon some high 
trees in a small garden which forms the play-ground 
of a boys' school. As there are many higher trees in 
more retired situations in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of the town, it- would seem very probable that the 
birds are in some measure attracted by the bustle and 
clamour of the school. 

Goldsmith has given an animated account of his own 
observations on the proceedings of these birds :— 

•* I have often/ ' says he, " amused myself with ob- 
serving their plan of policy from my window in the Tem- 
ple, that looks upon a grove where they have made a 
colony in the midst of the city. At the commencement 
of spring, the rookery, which, during the continuance 
%f winter, seemed to have been deserted, or only guarded 
by about five or six, like old soldiers in a garrison, now 
begins to be once more frequented; and in a short time 
all the bustle and hurry of business is fairly commenced. 
Where these numbers resided during the winter is not 
easy to guess, perhaps in the trees oP hedge-rows, to be 
nearer their food. In spring, however, they cultivate 
their native trees ; and in the places where they were 
themselves hatched, they prepare to propagate a future 
progeny. They keep together in pairs ; and when the 
offices of courtship are over, they prepare for making 
their nests and laying. The old inhabitants of the place 
are all already provided ; the nest which served them 
for years before, with a little trimming and dressing, will 
serve well again ; the difficulty of nesting lies only upon 
the young ones, who have no nest, and must therefore 
get up one as well as they can. But not only are the 
materials wanting, but also the place in which to fix it 
Every part of a tree will not do for this purpose, as some 
branches may not be sufficiently forked ; others may 
not be sufficiently strong ; and still others may be too 
much exposed to the rocking of the wind. The male 
and female, upon this occasion, are for some days seen 
examining all the trees of the grove very attentively ; 
and when they have fixed upon a branch that seems fit 
lor their purpose, they continue to sit upon and observe 
it very sedulously for two or three days longer. The* 
place being thus determined upon, they begin to gather 
the materials for their nest, such as sticks and fibrous 
roots, which they regularly dispose in the most substan- 
tail manner. But here a new and unexpected obstacle 
arises. It often happens that the young couple have 
made choice of a place too near the mansion of an older 
pair, who do not choose to be incommoded by such 
troublesome neighbours ; a quarrel, therefore, instantly 
ensues,' in which the old ones are always victorious. 
TTie young couple thus expelled, are obliged again to go 
through the fatigues of deliberating, examining, and 
choosing; and having taken care to keep their due 
distance, the nest begins again, and their industry de- 
serves commendation. But their alacrity is often too 



great in the beginning ; they soon grow weary of bring- 
ing the materials of their nest ffom distant places, and 
they very easily perceive that sticks may be provided 
nearer home, with less honesty indeed, but some degree 
of address. Away they go, therefore, to pilfer as fatst 
as they can ; and wherever they see a nest unguarded, 
they take care to rob it of the veiy choicest sticks of 
which it is composed. But these thefts never go un- 
punished; and probably, upon complaint being made, 
there is a general punishment inflicted. I have seen 
eight or ten rooks come upon such occasions, and setting 
upon the new nest of the young couple, tear it in pieces 
in a moment 

" At length, however, the young pair find the neces- 
sity of going more regularly and honestly to work. 
While one flies to fetch the materials, the other sits 
upon the tree to guard it ; and thus, in the space of three 
or four days, with a skirmish now and then between, 
the pair have fitted up a commodious nest, composed of 
sticks without, and of fibrous roots and long grass 
within. From the instant the female begins to lay, all 
hostilities are at an end ; not one of the whole grove, that 
a little before treated her so badly, will now venture to 
molest her, so that she brings forth her brood with pa- 
tient tranquillity. Such is the severity with which even 
native rooks are treated by each other ; but if a foreign 
rook should attempt to make himself a denizen of their 
society, he would meet with no favour ; the whole grove 
would at once be up in arms against hiin, and expel him 
without mercy." 

Rooks appear to be fond of the metropolis ; for, be- 
sides the rookery in the Temple gardens, which has 
been long abandoned, there was an extensive colony in 
the gardens of Carlton Palace, which, in consequence of 
the trees having been cut down, removed in the spring 
of 1827 to the trees behind New-street, Spring-gardens; 
and there is a colony in the trees near Fife-house, at 
the back of Whitehall. There was also, for many 
years, a rookery on the trees in the church-yard of 
St. Dunstan's in the East, a short distance from the 
Tower. 

At Newcastle a rookery does or did exist at no great 
distance from the Exchange, and it is recorded that a 
pair of the rooks, after an unsuccessful attempt to estab- 
lish themselves in the rookery, took refuge oil the 
Exchange spire ; and, though they continued to be 
persecuted by individuals from the adjacent colony, they 
succeeded in building a nest on the top of the vane, 
undisturbed by the noise of jthe populace below. They re- 
turned and built their nest every year on the same place 
till 1793, soon after which the spire was taken down. 



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THE WEEK. 
April 22.— Eastef-Dap.— Easter, the anniversary of 
our Lord's Resurrection, is directed to be celebrated on 
fne first Sunday after the full-moon that happens next 
after the 21st of March If the full-moon happens on 
A Sunday, Easter-Day is the Sunday after. This being 
the fourteenth day of the first Jewish month, corresponds 
in the Jewish calendar to the first day of the week after 
the Passover. The time at which this day must happen 
varies with the year; but the limits within which it must 
fell are the 22d of March and the 25th of April inclusive, 
making a period of thirty-five days. Easter governs the 
other Moveable feasts. For example, Septuagesima Sun- 
day is the ninth, and Shrove- Sunday the seventh, before 
Easter ; Whit-Sunday is the seventh, and Trinity-Sun- 
day the eighth, after Easter. The ceremonies with which 
Easter continues to be celebrated in Catholic countries, 
and the universal joy which is manifested by the people 
on its arrival, to terminate the fasting and mortification 
of Lent, are highly interesting. Among Protestants, as 
well as Catholics, on the Continent, Easter is considered 
Hie chief festival of the Christian Church, and the fact of 
its celebration on the same day by Christians of ail deno- 
minations adds something to its solemnity. 

April 23. — St. George. — Those who have met with 
that book of wonders, called ' The Seven Champions of 
Christendom,' must have learned enough of the fabulous 
history of this saint to render it unnecessary that we 
should say much about it Those who have not had 
that school-boy gratification may well spare the trouble 
of seeking for it in their mat lire r years. We need not 
enter into these legends further than to say, in the words 
of an old ballad, 
,.- ** Read in old stories, and there you shall see • 

How St. George, St George, he made the Dragon flee." 

St. George Was lucky In being patronised by Edward 
III., who invoked his aid at the battle of Calais, in 1349, 
and instituted the order of the Garter in his honour. 
England^ war-cTy, from that period, has been ' St. 
George! 1 and Shakspeare calls it, in his Richard III., 
*• our ancient word of courage." A good deal of expense 
was bestowed upon St. Geoqge, on this his day, in the 
times when our ancestors were fond of doing honour to 
images. In an ancient history of the town of Reading, 
there is a Curious account of the charges of decorating 
the figure of the Patron Saint, with his horse and the 
dragon, which required, for these adornments, three 
calf-skins, two horse- skin s % four pieces of clout leather, 
planks, iron, and other substantial garniture ; besides a 
coat for St George himself, with roses, bells, girdle, 
sword, and dagger. 

April 23.— This day is a memorable one also in the 
calendar of genius, being at once that of the birth and 
that of the death of Shakspeare ; and also that of the 
death, the following year, of his illustrious contemporary 
Cervantes, the author of ' Don Quixote/ At present 
we confine ourselves to a short notice of our great dra- 
matist. William Shakspeare was born at Stratford- 
upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, in the year 1564. What 
credit we ought to give to the stories which tradition has 
handed down to us of his earlier years, it may be difficult 
to say. After a somewhat wild youth, he appears to 
havo come to London when he was about twenty-two 
years of age, having been, however, already some years 
married. His circumstances at this time are said to 
have been so destitute that he was wont occasionally to 
perform the very humble service of holding the horses of 
persons who came to the play at the theatre door. He is 
also reported to have officiated in the capacity of call- 
boy or. attendant to the prompter. From this low con- 
dition, however, he was not very long in emerging. It 
has even been conjectured that he produced his first dra- 
matic composition (the First Part of Henry VI.) so 
early as 1589, when he was only twenty-fiv^ yean old. 



It is certahl that some of his happiest productions — for 
example, his ' Romeo and Juliet/ his • Richard 11./ 
and his • Richard III.' — were printed in 1597; and 
they may have appeared on the stage some years before. 
He continued to write for the stage for a considerable 
number of years — occasionally also appearing as a per- 
former ; and at length, having secured by his exertions 
a fortune of two or three hundred a year, retired to his 
native town, where he purchased a small estate, and 
spent the remainder of his days in ease and honour. He 
dJed here, as already mentioned, on his birth-day, in the 
year 1616, at the age of fifty-two. " Shakspeare," says 
Dryden, " was the man, who, of all modern, and per- 
haps ancient poets, had the largest and most compre- 
hensive soul. All the images of nature were still present 
to him, and he drew them, not laboriously, but luckilv. 
When he describes anything, you more than see H — you 
feel it too. Those who accuse him to have wanted 
learning, give him the greater commendation ; he was 
naturally learned ; he needed not the spectacles of books 
to read nature : he looked inwards, and found her there." 
Besides his plays, Shakspeare was the author of several 
other poetical productions, and especially of a collection 
of sonnets, of great sweetness and beauty— two of which, 
as they ale not much known by common readers, we 
have given in another column. 

April 25. — The birth-day of Oliver Cromwell. This 
extraordinary man was born at Huntingdon, in 1599, 
and was the second son of Sir Henry Cromwell, of 
Hinchinbrook. Of so eventful a life as his we can .in 
this place merely note the leading epochs. He entered 
Parliament in 1625, as representative for the town oi 
Huntingdon. It is a curious circumstance that in 1634 
the future Lord Protector was actually on the point of 
leaving England for America, along with the celebrated 
John Hampden, when the vessel in which they had em- 
barked was detained by orders from the Court. From 
the meeting of the Long Parliament, in 1640, which led 
almost immediately to the commencement of the civil 
wars, Cromwell, who sat in the House for the town of 
Cambridge, appears as one of the most conspicuous 
characters on the popular side, both in debate and in the 
field. Although he had reached his forty-second yc:.r 
before he ever, drew a sword, from the battle of Marston- 
moor, in 1644, at which he was present as Lieutenant- 
General of horse, to the battle of Worcester, in Septem- 
ber, 1651, his military genius displayed itself in England, 
Scotland, and Ireland, by a crowded succession of the 
most brilliant achievements. In April, 1653, he openly 
seized upon the supreme power in the state by entering 
the House of Commons with a party of soldiers, pulling 
the Speaker from the chair, ordering his men to take 
away " that bauble," as he called it, the mace, and 
lockinar the doors. On the 16th of December, in the 
same invested in Westminster Hall 

with rity of Protector of the Com- 

mon >tland, and Ireland — in other 

wore 1 y of the nation. His admi- 

nistn nt was characterized by the 

same viguur turn mmiiY which had distinguished the 
previous part of his career; and he not only repressed 
whatever remained of the late confusions, and restored a 
state of perfect internal tranquillity, but, by the firm and 
lofty tone which he adopted towards foreign powers, he 
elevated England to a height of influence and glory 
which, since the time of Elizabeth, she had never ap- 
proached. In other respects, however, his government 
was little better than a mere despotism — that is to say, 
every thing was conducted solely according to his will 
and pleasure ; and if justice was generally administered 
between man and man, learning protected, manufac- 
tures and commerce encouraged, and public order ably 
maintained, these blessings were due rather to the 
good sense and indulgence of the Dictator, than to the 



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lApwt 21. 



supremacy of the law. On the 26th of June, 1656, he 
was publicly enthroned anew as head of the state, with 
still greater pomp and ceremony than on the former 
occasion — a Parliament which had been summoned that 
year having (alter the ejection of two hundred of the 
more refractory members) consented to confirm Lis 
authority. From this period, however, his reign was 
more disturbed by alarms and conspiracies than it had 
been in the earlier portion of it. Anxiety and disease 
together at length began to make rapid inroads upon 
his constitution, and he expired on the 3d of September, 
1658, in the sixtieth year of his age, leaving the protec- 
torship to his eldest son Richard, who resigned it, how- 
ever, on the 22d of April in the following year. 

April 25. — St. Mark. — The eve of this feast of the 
Evangelist was formerly remarkable for a popular su- 
perstition. The believers in omens and witchcraft used 
on this night to sit in the church-porch, for three years 
successively ; and on the third year it was held that the 
apparitions of all in the parish who were to die in the 
suoceeding twelvemonth passed into the church. Pen- 
nant says that no farmer in North Wales will dare to 
hold his team on St. Mark's day. Why the plough or 
the harrow should not be used on a day when the season 
is generally propitious to their employment is difficult to 
say. We' hope the farmers of North Wales are wiser 
now than they were forty years ago. 

The British Museum is closed during the Easter week. 



SHAKSPE ARE'S SONNETS 

TRUTH. 

O now much more doth beauty beauteous seem 

By that sweet ornament which truth doth give 
The rose looks fail , but fairer we it deem, 

For that sweet odour which doth in it live. 
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye 

As the perfumed tincture of the roses, 
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly 

When summer's breath their masked bud discloses ; 
But, for their virtue only is their show, 

They live unwooed, and unrespected fade ; 
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so : 

Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made : ■ 
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, 

When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth'. 

1.0VR. 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Admit impediments. Lave is not love 
Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove : 
O no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; 
It is the star ot every wandering bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
Love's not Time's fool ; though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come, 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom. 
If this be error, and upon me proved, 

I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 



HOLIDAY WALKa 
^f iltot*, who passed the greater number of his riper 
years in London, has thus, in the Paradise Lost, de- 
scribed the pleasures which the dwellers in large towns 
may feei in an occasional excursion into the country : — 
« — One who long in populous cities pent, 
Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, 
Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe 
Among the pleasant villages and farms 
Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight, 
The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, 
Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound.'' 

It is a faslr.on, but we think an ignorant and unfeeling 
fashion, to laugh at what are called Cockneys enjoying 
the country. It is a fashion, too, to undervalue the 
suburbs of London ; — and several clever writers, proud 
of their mountains and their lakes, and very justly so 



have a smile of contempt ready for us When we talk of 
our " upland hamlets,*' our fertile valleys, and our broad 
river. .If we attempt no absurd comparison between 
the features of a highly cultivated country, and those of 
a wild mountainous region, there is no sense in this con- 
tempt ; frr the suburbs of London are not only beauti- 
ful as compared with the suburbs of other greht cities, 
but even if they were not so, the people of London would 
be wise to wander forth whenever they could obtain 
a holiday, caring nothing for those who chose to laugh 
at their happiness. The great poet whose lines we have 
quoted was too ardent a lover of nature not to enjoy 
her, because his circumstances had removed Jrim from 
the sight of her grander features. He could find de- 
light in the commonest objects — " each rural sight, 
each rural sound ;" and thus, if authority were wanting 
for our pleasure in 

" walking not unseen 

By hedge-row elms, or hillocks green," 

we have authority enough— quite enough authority, and 
quite enough common-sense conviction, which is above 
all authority — to take our holiday walks in content and 
self-satisfaction, envying no one who has higher oppor- 
tunities, 

" So we the meadows green and fields may view, 
And duly by fresh rivers walk at will." 

This is the season when London pours -forth her 
crowds into the country. We hope there are, many who, 
if they are able and desirous to abstain from their usual 
occupations on Easter Monday, will have good taste 
enough to hasten away from town 

" To hear the lark begin his flight.** 
None but those who have enjoyed the pleasure can con- 
ceive how' doubly exquisite are all natural objects in 
the first hours of morning. What a delight for an in- 
dustrious artisan to find himself, in company with a 
friend, or with his wife and children, several miles from 
the smoke and din of the great town before the usual 
hour of breakfast ! How freely he breathes ! How 
fresh every thing around him smells ! How cheering 
are the sounds from every hedge ! * The very insects 
that are beginning to sport in the warm mornings of 
spring seem to make music in their rapid flights ! The 
happy party sit down under a hedge to their simple 
breakfast. Every thing around them contributes to 
their happiness, and seems to share in it The meal is 
finished ; — but how is the day to be spent ? 

It is a bad thing, for it is apt to induce that weari- 
ness which the French (all ennui (an untranslateable 
word), to make a holiday walk without an object. 
Doubtless every thing in the country is new and beau- 
tiful to him who comes forth from the city to enjoy it 
But it requires a habit of observation to enjoy it tho- 
roughly ; and that habit is only acquired by degrees, 
and by observing one thing at a time. It is a great 
advantage to have some pursuit in our walks .—-but this 
advantage can only be attained by a little accurate know- 
ledge which ever)' one may acquire. For instance, there 
is no difficulty in a working man learning a little of 
Botany, so as readily to name a plant when he finds it, 
and to arrange it in the class to which it belongs. When 
he has so arranged it he knows many of its habits and 
qualities — whether it delights in moist or dry places — 
whether it is an annual plant or biennial (that is, lasting ' 
two years), or perennial (that is, continuing to grow 
from year to year), — whether it possesses useful or 
noxious properties. In some of the neighbourhoods of 
London, many of the rarest plants are found. If a man, 
therefore, know something of botany, the knowledge will 
give a double interest to his holiday walk; and this 
pursuit, which engrosses his attention without fatiguing 
it, will not render him less capable of enjoying the 
general beauties of a landscape or make the song of the 
birds less pleasant to his < 



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Again, — it is not very difficult to obtain sufficient 
knowledge of what is called Entomology, — that is, the 
knowledge of insects — to be able to classify an insect 
in the same way as a plant, and to obtain some notion 
of its peculiar habits. There are many thousand species 
of British' injects alone ; — and- a very large proportion 
of these are xo be found in the immediate vicinity of 
IiOndon. To search for these insects in their several 
haunts — on the grass, in the woods, by the sides of 
ditches, on the banks of rivers — furnishes an agreeable 
and instructive occupation : and when a particular spe- 
cies is found, and carried home in a little box, by the 
knowledge of classification which may be attained by 
some diligent study, the insects so .collected at various 
times may be arranged upon a system ; and after a few 
years a very valuable collection may be formed, whose 
contemplation will furnish the best lessons of the infinite 
variety and beauty of the works of God. 

Again, — by the aid of a little knowledge, the very 
ground over which a holiday walk is made may become 
an object of great interest The science which imparts 
this interest even to a clod of dirt is Geology, — or the 
science which instructs us as to what the earth is com- 
posed of, and as to the various changes which have taken 
place upon its surface. Through this species of know- 
ledge, no walk, however barren of other interest, can be 
without its pleasures. The greater part of London is 
built upon a very stiff clay, called " the London clay." 
It is an improving object to see how far this clay extends 
—to find where it begins to be superseded by chalk, and 
where by sand or gravel. In pursuits such as these the 
most extensive subjects of inquiry are opened to the 
mind ; and if that mind is rightly tempered, it will be- 
come elevated and enlarged at every step in the practical 
attainment of such knowledge. The observing and in- 
quiring understanding thus 

..-"*" " Finds tongues in trees, books in the running stream, 
. Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

But suppose a man has neither time nor inclination 
to learn enough of botany, or entomology, or geology, to 
obtain the most lasting pleasure and improvement from 
a holiday walk in the country. We shall still say, walk 
into the country, and have your eyes open when you 
walk. Let us give you a key to one of the greatest 
pleasures that a walk can impart, both to those who 
have much knowledge, and to those who have little. 
Trace the progress of the seasons in your successive walks. 
It is now Easter. The spring is not very far advanced. 
Most of the trees are budding, but they are not all in 
full leaf: — the blossoms are not yet powdered over the 
hawthorn hedge ; — the flowers of the field peep cau- 
tiously out of their leafy nests ; — you have scarcely seen 
a swallow skimming above your head in pursuit of his 
insect food; — the well-known voice of the cuckoo has 
not been heard. Take another walk at Whitsuntide. 
What a change is now to be traced ! The trees are in 
full leaf ; — every hedge is covered with the white flowers 
of the hawthorn ; — the cowslips are thick in every mea- 
dow ; — the swallows whirl about you in rapid chase ; — 
the voice tof the cuckoo comes across you, with the self- 
same sound ihat you used to rejoice in when a boy. Is 
it not pleasure enough to watch these gradual changes ? 
And whilst you can enjoy sueh pleasures, that cost little 
and leave a lasting improvement and happiness, is it not 
tolly to lose your time, your money, and your health, at 
G eenwich Fair ? 

THE LIBRARY 

THE BRITISH ESSAYISTS. 

♦On the 2Sd of April (New Style), 1709— a hundred 
and twenty -three years ago— rthe first number of The 
Title a was published. A volume containing all the 
numbers, not reprinted, but as they originally came from 
the press, it now before us. We look upon this volume 



with a sort of veneration. This publication was the first 
attempt made in England, or in any other country, to 
instruct and amuse unlearned readers by sjiort papers, 
appearing at stated intervals, and sold at a cheap rate. 
The Tatler was the first Penny Magazine ; and some of 
the ablest writers which England has produced dicl not 
think it beneath them to contribute to this good work of 
enlightening a large body of their countrymen, to whom 
this little paper was devoted. Amongst the most emi- 
nent o ivere Steele, Addison, and Swift- 
names i remembered as long as the English 
languc The object of these writers was " to 
bring philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools 
and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea- 
tables and at coffee-houses." They aimed at refining the 
mass of idle and ignorant people who then constituted 
what was called * The Town ;* — and to repress the 
looseness and coarseness of manners which then pre- 
vailed. There was at that time very little general know 
ledge ; — and even those whose stations in life afforded 
them leisure wasted their opportunities for improvement 
in frivolous or wicked amusements. It was then thought 
no disgrace to be ignorant of the commonest things ; and 
a person of wealth or rank was not considered less a 
gentleman for being an open profligate. It was a bold 
attempt to endeavour to allure the idle to sqzrie applica- 
tion, and to cover the vicious with well-deserved ridicule. 
But the attempt succeeded. Gay, who lived at the same 
time as Addison and Steele, speaking of Isaac Bicker- 
staff (the assumed name of the conductor of the Tatler), 
says — " It is incredible to conceive the effects his writings 
have had on the town ; how many thousand follies they 
have either quite banished or given a very great check to ; 
how much countenance they have added to virtue and 
religion ; how many people they have rendered happy 
by showing that it was their own fault if they were not 
so ; and lastly how entirely they have convinced our fops 
and young fellows of the value and advantages of 
learning." 

The Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian — the three pe- 
riodical papers to which Steele and Addison were the 
principal contributors — have been reprinted as often, 
perhaps, as any books in our language. They were ori- 
ginally published in a folio half-sheet. Of the numbers 
of the first edition of the'Tatler the columns are exactly 
the width of our Penny Magazine, and about two inches 
higher. Each number consists of two pages only, ol 
which nearly one-fourth is occupied with advertisements. 
The price was a penny. The work was published three 
times a week, and reached 271 numbers, the last ap- 
pearing on the 2d (13th) January, 1711. The Tatlei 
was succeeded by the Spectator, printed in the same form, 
and the first number appeared on the 1st of March, 1711. 
The Spectator was also originally printed at a penny ; 
but in August, 1712, a stamp duty upon papers printed 
on a half sheet took effect (the beginning of the present 
tax upon newspapers), and the halfpenny stamp raised 
the price of the Spectator to twopence. The first num- 
ber of the Guardian appeared on the 2d of March, 1713. 
The Guardian was followed up by the Englishman (more 
political in its character), of which the first number ap- 
peared on the 6th October, 1713; and that, again, was 
succeeded by the Freeholder (also political in a great 
degree), which was first published on the 23d December, 
1715. In this last work the labours of Addison as an 
Essayist were brought to an end. 

The Tatler was in some respects a newspaper. It 
contained, generally, an article of foreign intelligence. 
The difference between the Tatler and the numerous 
half sheets of news then published, consisted in its ori 
ginal papers of morals or criticism ; — these are the only 
parts for which it is now preserved in libraries. Many 
of the essays, which produced great effects at the period of 
their publication, are now comparatively uninteresting to 



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a general reader, although highly valuable to a diligent 
student of our national manners. There are many, 
however, which may be read with great and universal 
pleasure, particularly those in which the quiet humour of 
Addison displays itself. It is curious to trace the gradual 
rise in the character of the Tatler. The writers at first 
appeared to be very cautious in their experiments upon 
the tastes of their readers. There is in the early num- 
bers much that would appear frivolous and useless ; but, 
gradually, a higher tone of feeling, and greater vigour of 
writing, manifest themselves: the improvement which 
the Tatler itself produced upon its readers appears to 
have been reflected back upon its authors. 

The Spectator was altogether a work of more elevated 
pretensions than the Tatler. The paragraphs of news 
were discarded ; — the essays were more carefully and 
elaborately written ; — a plan of an imaginary club was 
adopted, which runs through the whole work and gives 
it a high dramatic interest ; and many articles of sound 
and generous criticism were introduced, which had for 
their object to direct the public attention to splendid pro- 
ductions of literature, such as Milton's Paradise Lost, 
which had been neglected amidst the heartless corrup- 
tion that disgraced the age of Charles II. Of course, 
such a collection of papers, written principally by the 
most beautiful prose writers of our country, will always 
delight and instruct, however obsolete may be some of 
their allwsionsf and however the delicate taste which per- 
vades them may appear feeble, by comparison with the 
coarser strength of an earlier or a later age. 

The character which we have given of the c Spectator' 
may apply, with few exceptions, to the * Guardian.' 

These first and best of our essayists may now be 
bought at a very cheap rate. The Tatler is generally 
found in four or five volumes — the Spectator in eight — 
.the Guardian in two; and they may be purchased, se- 
cond hand, for 1*. 6d. or 2s. per volume. There is no 
difference of consequence in any of the editions. In 
some the Latin mottoes to each paper are translated. 
There is a large collection of this class ot books called 
c The British Essayists,' in forty-five volumes, with an 
introduction and notes, by Mr. Chalmers. This edition 
was published at about As. 6d. a volume, but may often 
be met with much cheaper. It contains, in addition to 
the Spectator, Tatler, and Guardian, the Englishman 
and the Freeholder, which we have already noticed, and 
the following other periodical works, collected together : — 

The Rambler,, by Dr. Johnson, of which the first 
number appeared on the 20th March, 1750. 

The Adventurer, by Dr. Hawkesworth. First num- ' 
beivdated the 7th November, 1752. 

The World, by Colman, Bonnell Thornton, Lord 
Chesterfield, and others. First number January 4th, 
1753. 

The Connoisseur, principally by the same writers as 
the World. First number January 31st, 1754. 

The Idler, by Dr. Johnson. First number April 5th, 
1758. 

The Mirror, published in Edinburgh, to which Henry 
Mackenzie, the novelist, was a principal contributor. 
First number January 7th, 1779. 

T/ie Lounger, also published in Edinburgh, and chiefly 
by the same writers as those of the Mirror. First number 
October 8th, 1785. 

The Observer. Conducted by Cumberland, the dra- 
matist. First number March 1st, 1766. 

The Looker-on. First number March, 1702. 

When any of these works can be met with very cheap, 
they may be properly purchased by the young reader, by 
the working man, or for the use of a mechanics' or village 
library. They always afford pleasing and instructive 
reading for odd half-hours, which has in most cases a 
tendency to purify and exalt the mind. Many of the 
illusions in all these works are difficult to understand, 



by one who is not very familiar with the manners of the 
times iirwhich they were respectively published. There 
is, however, so much that is easily comprehensible and 
highly improving, that we shall always be glad to hear 
of any of them being" on the shelves of our readers* 

We have been led to notice this class of publications 
first in our * Library,' partly from the cWcumstance of 
this week being the anniversary of the original publication 
of the Tatler, and partly from a consideration of some 
points of resemblance and of contrast between the first 
essayists and our own undertaking. The authors of the 
Tatler and the Spectator wished to refine the manners, 
and improve the understanding, of the rich and the lux- 
urious, who spent their time in busv nothings, and who 
were too id! h to ac- 

complish the nd more 

important cl ittle time 

from the dut . real ad- 

vantage of a< tented in 

a light and and the 

Spectator di< we hope 

to do for the the me- 

chanic — for e school- 

boy between after his 

day's work is acme, we nave muae our nuie magazine 
four times cheaper than the Tatler or the Spectator, be- 
cause we hope (and that without any arrogant preten- 
sion) to sell many more than these .excellent works sold, 
although the Spectator, at a period when there was little 
regular communication between the metropolis and the 
country, occasionally sold twenty thousand copies. There 
is certainly no co mber of readers 

now and the n days of Queen 

Anne, — they hs ifty-fold ; and 

there are as many maienajs now as men existed, if therey 
are not more, for furnishing useful and agreeable reading. 
We may not be able to captivate the more instructed 
class of readers by the elegance of style, and the delicacy 
of humour, which characterized the Spectator; but we 
shall do what is, perhaps, more wanted — we shall collect 
for all readers a great body of facts to reason upon ; and 
happy shall we be if we only partially accomplish what 
Steele and Addison were said to have accomplished-^? 
namely, if we discover the true method of making know* 
ledge " amiable and lovely to all mankind." * ;: r ' 



*»* The Penny Magazine will, in most cases, b* ielivered wttkhf 
in the Towns of the United Kingdom, by Booksellers and News- 
venders, to whom Subscribers should address their Orders. It cannot 
be sent by Post as a Newspaper is, being unstamped. For the con- 
venience of those, who, residing in country places, cannot obtain the 
Publication at regular totekly intervals, the numbers published 
during each Month will be stitched together, to form a MmiMg 
Part. That this Part may be sold at a convenient and untfbra 
price, a Monthly Supplement, consisting chiefly of Notices of such 
New Books as we think right to give a place to in " the Library," 
wul appear with the regular Number on the last Saturday in the 
Month. The price of the Part, whether consisting of five or of six 
Numbers, wul be Sixpence ; each Part will be neatly and strongly 
done up, in a wrapper. Thus, the annual Expense of Twelve H 
will be Six Shillings, vis.— 

#. d. m *' 
52 Regular Numbers .... 4 4 m 

12 Supplements 10*,. 

12 Wrappers 8 , V*-- 



LONDON —CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL KA8T. 

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied WhoUseXe by the 
Booksellers .•— 

Manchester, Roantsow . 
Newcastle-mpon-Tgne, 
Nottingham, Wbxobt. 
Dublin, Waxxm aw. 
Beunbmrgh, Ouvsb tad Befl 
Glasgow, Ararawnr aai Gt. 



London, Qeoombrido*, Panjrer Alley. 
Birmingham, Dsaez. 
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[April 28, 1832. 



TEA. 
The history of commerce does not, perhaps, present a 
parallel to the circumstances which have attended the 
introduction of tea into Great Britain. This leaf was 
first imported into Europe by the Dutch East-India 
Company, in the early part of the seventeenth century ; 
but it was not until the year 1666 that a small quan- 
tity was brought over from Holland to this country by 
the Lords Arlington and Ossory : and yet, from a pe- 
riod earlier than any to which the memories of any of 
the existing generation can reach, tea has been one of 
the principal necessaries of life among all classes of the 
community. To provide a sufficient supply of this ali- 
ment, many thousand tons of the finest mercantile navy 
in the world arts annually employed in trading with a 
people by- whom all dealings with foreigners are merely 
tolerated ; and from this recently-acquired taste, a very 
large and easily-collected revenue is obtained by the state. 
The tea-plant is a native of China or Japan, and 
probably of both. It has been used among the natives 
of the former country from time immemorial. It is only 
in a particular tract of the Chinese empire that the 
plant is cultivated ; and this tract, which is situated on 
the eastern side, between the 30th and 33rd degrees 
of north latitude, is distinguished by the natives as " the 
tea country."- The more northern part of China would 
be t€>o cold ; and farther south the heat would be too 
great. There are, however, a few small plantations to 
be .seen near to Canton. 

The Chinese give to the plant the name of icha or tha. 
It is^propagated by them from seeds, which are depo- 
sited in rows four or five feet asunder; and so uncertain 
is their vegetation, even in their native climate, that it is 
found necessary to sow as many as seven or eight seeds 
in every hole. The ground between each row is always 
kept free from weeds, and the plants are not allowed 
to attain a higher growth than admits of the leaves 
being conveniently gathered. The first crop of leaves 
is not collected until the third year after sowing ; and 
when the trees are six or seven years old, the produce 
becomes so inferior that they are removed to make room 
for a fresh succession. 

The flowers of the tea-tree are white, and somewhat 
resemble the wild rose of our hedges : these flowers are 
succeeded by soft green berries or pods, containing each 
from one to three white seeds. The plant will grow in 
either low or elevated situations,' but always thrives best 
and furnishes leaves of the finest quality when produced 
in light stony ground. 

The leaves are gathered from one to four -times during 
Vol. I. 



[Tea-gathering— from a Chinese drawing,] 
the year, according to the age of the trees. Most com- 
monly there are three periods of gathering; the first 
commences about the middle of April; the second at 
Midsummer; and the last is accomplished during Au- 
gust and September. The leaves that are earliest ga- 
thered are of the most delicate colour and most aroma- 
tic flavour, with the least portion of either fibre or bit- 
terness. Leaves of the second gathering are of a dull 
green colour, and have less valuable qualities than the 
former ; while those which are last collected are of a 
dark green, and possess an inferior value. The quality 
is farther influenced by the age of the wood on which 
the leaves are borne, and by the degree of exposure to 
which they Jiave been accustomed ; leaves from young 
wood, and those most exposed, being always the best. 

The leaves,^ as soon as gathered, are put into wide 
shallow baskets, and placed in the air or wind, or sun- 
shine, during some hours. They are then placed on a 
flat cast-iron pan, over a stove heated with charcoal, 
from a half to three quarters of a pound of leaves being 
operated on at one time. These leaves are stirred 
quickly about with a kind of brush, and are then as 
quickly swept off the pan into baskets. The next process 
is that of rolling, which is effected by carefully rubbing 
them between men's hands^ after which they are again 
put, in larger quantities, on the pan, and subjected 
anew to heat, but at this time to a lower degree than at 
first, and just sufficient to dry them effectually without 
risk of scorching. This effected, the tea is placed on a 
table and carefully picked over, every unsightly or im- 
perfectly-dried leaf that is detected being removed from 
the rest, in order that the sample may present a more 
even and a better appearance when offered for sale. 

The names by which some of the principal soils of 
tea are known in China, are taken from the places in 
which they are produced, while others are distinguished 
according to the periods of theu* gathering, the manner 
employed in curing, or other extrinsic circumstances^ 
It is a commonly received opinion, that the distinctive 
colour of green tea is imparted to it by sheets of copper, 
upon which it is dried. For this 'belief there is not, 
however, the smallest foundation in fact, since copper 
is never used for the purpose. Repeated experiments 
have been made to discover, by an unerring test, whe- 
ther the leaves of green tea contain any impregnation 
of copper, but in no case has any trace of this metal 
been detected. 

The Chinese do not use their tea until it is about n 
year old, considering that it is too actively narcotic 
when new. Tea is yet older when it is brought into 
consumption in Khglaud, as, in addition to the length 

F 



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[April 28, 



of time occupied in its collection and transport to this 
country, the East-India Company are obliged by their 
charter to have always a supply sufficient for one year's 
consumption in their London warehouses ; and this re- 
gulation, which enhances the price to the consumer, is 
said to have been made by way of guarding in some 
measure against the inconveniences that would attend 
any interruption to a trade entirely dependant upon the 
caprice of an arbitrary government. 

The people of China partake of tea at all their meals, 
and frequently at other times of the day. They drink 
the infusion prepared in the same manner as we employ, 
but they do not mix with it either sugar or milk. The 
working classes in that country are obliged to content 
themselves with a very weak infusion- Mr. Anderson, 
. in his Narrative of Lord Macartney's Embassy, relates 
that the natives in attendance never failed to beg the 
tea-leaves remaining after the Europeans had break- 
fasted, and with these, after submitting them again to 
boiling water, they made a beverage, which they acknow- 
" ledged was better than any they could ordinarily obtain. 
—■Abridged from * Vegetable Substances used for Food.' 



THE. AMERICAN ALMANAC AND REPOSITORY OF 
USEFUL KNOWLEDGE, FOR THE YEAR 1832. 

This Almanac is printed at Boston, the capital of 
Massachusetts, and the present is the third volume of 
the publication. It is compiled upon the plan of giving, 
in addition to the calendar and the usual lists of our 
English Almanacs, a large body of miscellaneous infor- 
mation, such as is contained in the Companion to the 
Almanac published by the Society for the Diffusion of 
Useful Knowledge. It was indeed the latter publication 
whieh first suggested the idea of the American work. 
The volume before us is a very excellent and interesting 
specimen of the manner in which the English production 
has been imitated across the Atlantic. 

One part of the volume presents, as uSual, a large 
mass of details relating to the statistics of the Republic. 
One paper is on *' The Census of the United States." 
According to an article in the Constitution of the United 
States, which provided that a census of the population 
should be taken within three years after thelirst meeting 
of Congress, and subsequently once every ten years, the 
first enumeration was made in 1790 ; and it has been 
followed by others in 1800, 1810, 1820, and 1830. 
The details of that of 1830 had not been published when 
the present volume was put to the press ; but the general 
results are here stated as procured from the Government 
offices. " As the strength and prosperity of nations," it 
is well remarked, " are founded on the number, resources, 
industry, and education of the people, a knowledge of 
all these matters is highly important to a free govern- 
ment, where all are bound to contribute to the, public 
defence and support, and all have an influence on public 
measures ; and it is important that such knowledge 
should be diffused among all the citizens." 

From the statements in this paper we have compiled 
the following abstract of the progress of the population 
of the United States since 1790:— 

1790. 1S00. 1810. 1320. 1830. 

rrea Whim Male.... 1,615,492 2.194.225 2,998,141 3,995.053) 

Free Wh.te Females . 1,475,656 2,115.431 2,873.952 3,866.657 > 10,845,735 
Other Free Penons.. 59,511 110,072 186.446 238,161] 

81ares 697,697 896,849 1,191,364 1,538,128 2,010,436 



Total 3,921,328 5,316,577 72,39,903 9,637,9C9 12,856,171 

If from this enumeration we throw out the slaves, the 
increase of whose numbers is probabj^ not regulated by 
exactly the same law as prevails throughout the rest of the 
community, we shall find that the whole free population 
was in 1790, 3,223,631 ; in 1800,4,419,728; in 1910, 
6,048,539 ; in 1820, 8,099,971 ; and in 1830, 10,845,735. 
The rate of increase, therefore, would appear to have 
been, for the first ten years, rather more than 37 per 



cent ; for the second ten, considerably more than 36 per 
cent. ; for the third ten, nearly 34 per cent. ; and about 
the same for the fourth , period of the same length, 
l^rom the comparatively inaccurate manner, however, 
in which the earlier enumerations were made, there 
is reason to believe that the actual amount of the popu- 
lation was considerably under-rated in tffl returns ; and 
taking this circumstance into account, we shall perhaps 
be nearer the truth in-estimating the real rate of increase 
to have been all along much the same as it would appear 
to have been for the last ten years, or between 33 and 34 
per cent, for every period of that duration. This im- 
plies that the population is going on doubling itself in 
every twenty-five years. 

The rate of progress, however, has been very different 
in different parts of the Union. For the last ten years, 
as appears from one of the tables here given, it has varied 
in the several states and settlements from a per-centage 
of 5^ (in Dclaware),*to one of above 250 (in the Michi- 
gan territory)*. In most of the older states, indeed, it 
does not rise beyond 15 or 16 per cent, or about half 
the amount of the- average for the whole country. 

According to the census of 1820, the latest of which 
the details are before us, the numbers of the Free Whites, 
classed by their ages, were as follows :— 

r " J ' Mule*. 

Uuder 10 years 1,345,220 

Of 10 and under 16 612,535 

Of 16 and under 26 776,150 

Of 26 and under 45 766,083 

Of 45 and upwards 495,065 

Total 3,995,053 3,866,657 7,861,710 

From this statement it appears, that of the whole 
population in the year quoted, very nearly one-half con- 
sisted of persons under sixteen years of age. Almost 
the same proportion is exhibited by both the preceding 
enumerations ; so that we may consider it as that which 
constantly prevails in the country. On the other hand, 
the number of the persons above forty-five years of age 
appears to constitute only about an eighth part of the 
whole population. According to another table, jthe 
number of persons who in 1830 were one hundred years 
old and upwards, were, — White Males 297, Females 234; 
Free Black Males 382, Females 359 ; Slaves, Male 717, 
Female 662 ; — in all 2,654. The large proportion of 
aged Slaves and Free Blacks in this ^enumeration is very 
extraordinary ; for it is about four times greater than 
that afforded by all the rest of the population, although 
the total amount of the latter is more than five times that 
of the Slaves and Free Blacks. We must therefore 
suppose, if we could trust to this account, that at least 
twenty Blacks arrive at the age of one hundred for every 
one White. " But it may be remarked/' says the writer 
before us, " that the ages of the Blacks are not generally 
so well known as those of the Whites ; and that, there 
fore, the accuracy of the census, as it respects the ages of 
this class, is less to be relied on." 



Females. 


Total. 


1,280,550 


2,625,770 


605,348 


1,217,883 


781,371 


1,557,521 


736,600 


1,502,683 


462,788 


957,853 



CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND CONTENTED 
BURGESS. 

An honest and contented burgess is one of those men 
whom no good fortune can pamper and corrupt, no adver 
sity sour, and no fashion change. He is right English. 
He is the main prop and stay of our social institutions. 
He is respected by his superiors, without compromising 
his independence, and looked up to by those beneath 
him, without concealing their faults. 

An honest burgess thinks it no disgrace to be a 
tradesman. His shop or factory is the theatre of his 
duties and his pleasures. He knows enough of political 
-economy to feel that behind his counter he is rendering 
service to the state; and he has the more home-brei 

* The population of Michigan is formed by immigration. Perh#pf 
not one man in twenty was born there. 



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satisfaction to be assured that his vocation affords him 
the competence which keeps hin» above want or mean- 
ness. He instils the same principles into his children. 
As a general purpose he brings up his sons to be 
mechanics or tradesmen ; but he is too prudent to force 
their inclinations. He judges of their talents according 
to his conscience ; and when, in mutual love and confi- 
dence, their path is chosen, he denies no reasonable aid 
to assist them on their journey. 

The honest burgess is not a dull plodder, without an 
idea but that of counting his pence. He holds it to be 
a positive duty for man to improve his understanding 
He has not read many books, but he has read them well. 
He makes more use of his own thoughts, than of the 
thoughts of others. He has studied the world accurately, 
not to learn cunning, but humility. He has not neglected 
the cultivation of his taste. He does not acknowledge 
that his occupation ought to shut him out from any 
elegant enjoyment which is consistent with his circum- 
stances. He delights in a country walk, and enjoys the 
beauty Of a landscape, with the eye of feeling and 
imagination. He thinks it no assumption to take a real 
pleasure in the examination of a fine picture ; and holds 
that a habit of comparing art with nature may allow 
him to judge of its merits. He reads Shakspeare and 
Milton with a genuine love and admiration ; for he does 
not consider poetry as necessarily allied to folly or mad- 
ness, but as the reflection of those pure and impassioned 
thoughts which the commerce of the world suppresses, 
but which have their home in the depths of the human 
heart. 

Our contented burgess is a little old-fashioned in 
some of his habits. He is jovial over his toast and ale 
on a Christmas-eve ; and on winter evenings will romp 
at blind-man's buff with his children. He plays at for- 
feits, too, with the young folks. He goes to a village 
fair with his family on May-day, and is not ashamed to 
turn round and gaze at " Jack in the Green. " He 
takes them all to see the wild beasts, and explains their 
several qualities better than the showman. On special 
occasions he has no objection to make one at trap-ball ; 
and, once a-year, he and all the household go gipsying. 
* He thinks nothing vulgar but what is mean, and he 
thinks nothing mean that contributes to health and 
cheerfulness. 

However our honest citizen may feel that his first 
duties are to his family, he is not slow to occupy himself 
in the public service. He never shrinks from the per- 
formance of-those offices which are essential to the good 
government of every parish or town. He is ever ready 
at his post, and most so when he is called thither by the 
chiims of the wretched. He knows that he can do more 
good by his industry than his purse. He offers his 
opinion on such occasions with modesty, but yet with 
firmness. He does not advocate the cause of benevo- 
lence to exhibit himself; but to bear witness to a misery, 
or to suggest its alleviation. He speaks little ; but he 
p]K» tks to the point. He leaves the flourishes of rhetoric, 
and the hems and haas of common-place, to those who 
arc thinking of themselves when they have the public 
good upofi their lips. 

The mainspring of the honest burgess's benevolence 
is true religion. He does not ask whether such duties 
are expected from his situation ; but he looks into that 
^ olume which prescribes their performance, and then 
applies himself to their execution, to the full extent of 
his humble means. His religion is not with him a 
holiday suit. It is not put on once a-week for decency. 
It lives in his heart, and it is seen in his household. 
Crabhe has described such a family : — 

** Pleasant it was to twe them in their walk 
Hound their baiall garden, and to hear them talk ; 
Five are their children, but their love refrains 
From all offence — none murmurs, none complains j 



Whether a book amused them, speech, or play, 
Their looks were lively, and their hearts were gay. 
There no forced efforts for delight were made, 
. Joy came with prudence, and without parade ; 
Their common comforts they had all in view. 
Light were their troubles, and their wishes few ; 
Thrift made them easy for the coming day ; 
Religion took the dread of death away; 
A chcerfiil spirit still insured content, 
And love smiled round them, wheresoever they went." 

The honest burgess ought to save sufficient out of his 
trade to procure himself an easy retirement after the 
vigour of his age is past. May he ever find sorne^ 
pretty cottage in a quiet suburb of his town, where he 
may trail the jasmine and the honeysuckle round his 
trimly-whitened walls, and delight himself in producing 
the earliest peas or cucumbers of the season ! May 
his children and grandchildren duly gather round his 
Christmas fire-side, to smooth the approaches of wrinkled 
age ! And may his last end be as full of peace as the 
simplicity of his life, and the purity of his faith, give us 
warrant to anticipate ! 



POPULAR ERRORS. 

An opinion is very prevalent in many parts of this 
country, that whatever may be the path of a funeral to- 
wards the place of burial, a public right of way along 
such path arises. Not long since an action was brought 
for the purpose of contesting a claim of this nature ; 
but the Judge declaring that it was founded upon a 
foolish error, the opinion .of a Jury was not allowed 
to be given upon it. The following circumstances, 
which occurred in ^the fourteenth century, show the 
error to be one of some antiquity : — A chaplain of the 
Bishop of Exeter died, and ought, according to a rule 
still observed, to have been buried in the parish of Far- 
ringdon. The Bishop directed his interment to take 
place in the adjoining parish of Clifl Tomeson. One 
Tomeson, hearing that the body of the chaplain was 
about to be brought over his grounds, and that, as the 
chronicle states, a lick-way would be made through them, 
assembled his servants, and attempted to stop its pro- 
gress as it was carried over a bridge. A scuffle ensued, 
and the body was thrown into the water. Thelick-wai/ 
was not made ; but the Bishop of Exeter amply revenged 
himself for the proceedings. 

Lich is a Saxon word, signifying a dead body, and the 
gate of many church-yards (Dudleston, for instance, in 
Shropshire) is to the present day called the lich-gate. 
Lich-field signifies the field of dead bodies, and that 
city, according to a monkish tradition, derives its name 
from the martyrdom of several persons, whose bodies 
were left exposed in a field there. 



Book*. — Let us consider how great a commodity of doc- 
trine exists in books ; how easily, how secretly, how safely 
they expose the nakedness of human ignorance without 
putting it to shame. These are the masters who instruct 
us with rods and ferules, without hard words and anger, 
without clothes or money. If you approach them, they ale 
not asleep; if investigating you interrogate them, they 
conceal nothing ; if you mistake them, they never grumble ; 
if you are ignorant, they cannot laugh at yovL.-—Philobiblion, 
by Richard de Bury, written in the reign, of Edward 111. 
and lately translated. 

Self-education.— Much, less of success m life is in 
reality dependent upon accident, or what is called luck, than 
is commonly supposed. Far more depends upon the objects 
which a man proposes to himself; what attainments he 
aspires to ; what is the circle which bounds his visions and 
thoughts ; what he chooses, not to be educated for, but to 
educate himtelf for ; whether he looks to the end and aim 
of the whole of life, or only to the present day or hour ; 
whether he listens to the voice of indolence or vulgar plea- 
sure, or to the stirring voice in his own soul, urging his 
ambition on to laudable objeo 



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[April 28, 



MOOSE-DEER. 

The Council of the Zoological Society have made an 
interesting addition to their collection by the purchase of 
three moose-deer, a male and two females. The moose 
is the largest of the family of deer, and is particularly 
characterized by the swelling out and projecting of the 
nostrils which are divided by a long slit, by the largeness 
of the ears, by the shortness of the neck, and by the 
disproportionate height of the legs. The animal, when 
he feeds, is obliged to kneel, or to stretch out his fore- 
legs on either side, to be able to reach the earth with his 
long and flexible upper lip. This lip is of a size between 
the lip of the horse and that of the tapir, and through 
the agency of four pair of strong muscles its power of 
movement is as various as it is rapid. The difficulty 
which the animal feels in grazing causes it to inhabit 
woods in preference to plains, where it browses upon the 
leaves and young branches of trees. The muscles of the 
neck of the moose are of extraordinary thickness, to 
enable him to carry his enormous horns, which when the 
animal has reached his sixth year sometimes weigh sixty 
pounds. To preserve himself from the flies of the forest, 
which are his great annoyance in summer, the moose 
plunges into marshes, where he often remains night 
and day, feeding upon the water-plants. The North 
American Indians believe that the moose has the power 
of remaining entirely under water, as the following extract 
from Tanner's Narrative will show : — 

" There is an opinion prevalent among the Indians, that 
the moose, among the methods of self-preservation with 
which he seems better acquainted than almost any other 
animal, has the power of remaining for a long time under 
water. Two men of the band of Wa-ge-to-ton-gun, whom 
I knew perfectly well, and considered very good and credible 
Indians, after a long day's absence on a hunt, came m 
and stated that they had chased a moose into a small 
pond, that they had seen him go to the middle of it, and 
disappear; and then choosing positions, from which they 
could see every part of the circumference of the pond, 
smoked and waited until near evening; during all which 
time they could see no motion of the water or other indi- 
cation of the position of the moose. At length, being 
discouraged, they had abandoned all hope of taking him, 
and returned home. Not long afterwards came a solitary 
hunter loaded with meat, who related that having followed 
the track of a moose for some distance, he had traced it to 
the pond before-mentioned ; but having also discovered the 
tracks of two men, made at the same time as those of the 
moose, he concluded they must have killed it Nevertheless, 
approaching cautiously to the margin of the pond, he sat 
down to rest. Presently he saw the moose rise slowly in the 
centre of the pond, which was not very deep, and made 
towards the shore where he was sitting. When he came 
sufficiently near he shot him in the water. The Indians 



consider the moo ^ . hyer and more difficult to take than any 
other animal. He is more vigilant, and his senses more 
acute than those of the buffalo or caribon. He is fleeter 
than the elk, and more prudent and crafty than the antelope/' 

The above wood-cut of the moose is taken from a very 
young male in the possession of Mr. Cross, which is now 
at the Surrey Zoological Gardens. These gardens, which 
are very extensive, and are laid out -as a menagerie with 
great taste, require a particular notice, which we shall 
give in a future number. 



THE WEEK. 



May 1. — The birth-day of Joseph Addison, one of the 
most celebrated writers that England has ever produced. 
Addison was born in 1672, at Mils tone in Wiltshire, of 
which place his father, the Reverend Dr. Lancelot 
Addison, was rector. The first literary productions which 
he gave to the world were some Latin poems published 
while he was at college at Oxford, whither he was 
sent in 1687. This was the commencement of a long 
and brilliant career, in the course of which various 
English poems, the tragedy of Cato, and other dramatic 
pieces, several political tracts, and above all a succes- 
sion of contributions to the Tatler, the Spectator, and 
the Guardian, of unprecedented and as yet unrivalled 
excellence in that peculiar style of composition to which 
they belong, raised him in universal estimation to the 
very first rank among the then living ornaments of Eng- 
lish literature. Addison was also very successful as the 
architect of his own worldly fortunes, having, after 
holding several other high offices, risen at last in 1717 
to be appointed one of his Majesty's principal Secreta- 
ries of State. With all his talent and felicity as a writer, 
however, he soon found himself inadequate to the duties 
of this place, never being able, it is said, either to muster 
courage enough to take part in the debates of the House 
of Commons, or even to draw up the simplest despatches 
with the requisite expedition. The following anecdote 
related by Dr. Johnson affords an instance of the latter 
assertion : — '* When the House of Hanover took pos- 
session of the throne, it was reasonable to expect that 
the zeal of Addison would be suitably rewarded. Before 
the arrival of King George, he was made Secretary to the 
Regency, and was required by his office to send notice 
to Hanover that the Queen was dead, and that the throne 
was vacant To do this would not have been difficult to 
any man but Addison, who was so overwhelmed with the 
greatness of the event, and so distracted by choice of 
expression, that the Lords, who could not wait for the 
niceties of criticism, called Mr. Southwell, a clerk in 
the house, and ordered him to despatch the message. 
Southwell readily told what was necessary in the common 
style of business, and valued himself upon having doue 
what was too hard for Addison." Addison's fine taste and 
the recollection of his high reputation together, conspired 
to make him fastidious and hesitating. His health too 
becoming indifferent, he very soon resigned. He died 
on the 17th of June, 1719, in the forty-eighth year 
of his age, at Holland-house, Kensington, where he 
resided in right of his wife, the Countess of Warwick. 
When about to expire, it is said that he called for his 
step-son, the Earl of Warwick, and when the young 
man, standing by his bed-side, asked him what were 
his commands, he grasped his hand, and merely replied, 
" See with what peace a Christian can die." To this 
circumstance his attached friend Tickell alludes in the 
following lines, in which he also describes scenes pro* 
bably well known to many of our readers : — 

" If pensive to the rural shades I rove, 

His shade o'ertakes me in the lonely grove ; 
Twas there of just and good he reasoned strong, 
Cleared some great truth, or raised some serious song $ 
There patient showed us the wise course to steer, 
A candid censor, and a fiiena severe ; 



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There taught us how to live ; and (oh ! too high 
A price for knowledge) taught us how to die. 

"Thou hill, whose brow the antique structures grace, 
Reared by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race, 
Why, once so loved, whene'er thy lwwer appears, 
O'ei my dim eye-balls glance the sudden tears '. 
How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair, 
Thy sloping walks, and unpolluted air ! 
How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees, 
Thy noontide shadow, and thy evening breeze ! 
His image thy forsaken bowers restore ; 
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more ; 
No more the-summer in thy glooms allayed, 
Thy evening breeges, and thy noonday shade." 

May 1. — This is May-day — a festival of which 
scarcely a relic is left, except in the mummery of the 
chimney-sweepers. Three centuries ago the first of 
May was a holiday for all classes. Bourne, the historian 
of popular customs and superstitions, thus describes the 
ceremonies with which our ancestors welcomed the 
season of budding trees and opening blossoms : — " On 
the calends, or the first day of May, commonly called 
t May-day, the juvenile part of both sexes were wont to 
rise a little after midnight, and walk to some neigh- 
bouring wood, accompanied with music and the blowing 
of horns; where they break down branches from the 
trees, and adorn them with nosegays and crowns of 
flowers. When this is done, they return with their 
booty homewards, about the rising of the sun, and 
make their doors and windows to triumph in the flowery 
•spoil. The after-part of the day is chiefly spent in 
dancing round a tall pole, which is called a May-pole ; 
which, being placed in a convenient part of the village, 
stands there, as it were, consecrated to the goddess of 
flowers, without the least violation offered it in the 
whole circle of the year. And this is not the custom of 
the British common people only, but it is the custom of 
the generality of other nations ; particularly of the 
Italians. Polydore Virgil tells that the youth of both 
sexes were accustomed to go into the fields on the 
calends of May, and bring thence the branches of trees, 
singing all the way as they came, and so place them on 
the doors of their houses. This is the relic of an an- 
cient custom among the heathen, who observed the four 
Ja>t days of April, and the first of May, in honour of 
the goddess Flora, who was imagined the deity pre- 
siding over the fruit and flowers." i 

But the sports of May were not confined to the 
villages. Even the gorgeous pomp of the old courts 
did not disdain to borrow a .fragrance and freshness 
from the joys of the people. Hall, the historian, gives 
us an account of <* Henry VIII. riding a-Maying from 
Greenwich to the high ground of Shooter's-hill, with 
Queen CatherineJris wife, accompanied with marry lords 
and ladies." Stow tells us, too, " In the month of 
May the citizens of London (of all estates), lightly in 
every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes joining 
together, had their several Mayings, and did fetch in 
* May-poles with divers warlike shows, with good archers, 
morrice-dancers, aud other devices for pastime all the 
day long; and towards the evening they had stage- 
plaies and bone-fires in the streets." — Amusements 
such as these belong to a state of manners which can 
never return to us, — and of which we only look at the 
poetical side when we exclaim 

u Happy the age f and harmless were the days. 
For then true love and amity were found, 
When every village did a May-pole raise *." 

The May-poles are gone, — but it is useless to sigh for 
their revival, — and we are by no means sure that their 
revival would be any national advantage. We may 
all be happy in the contemplation of nature, without 
morrice-dancers and " a Lady of the May ;" and though 
these excitements are 'gone, the same unperishable 
attractions remain, which, on May morning, as Stow 
* Pasauil's Palinodia, 1634. 



describes, summoned our ancestors "into the sweet 
meadows and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits 
with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with 
the harmony of birds praising God in their kind." We 
should do well to cling to the spirit of these old customs* 
although we must of necessity renounce their literal 
observance. Our forefathers, in proclaiming their enthu- 
siasm for the freshness of a beautiful world, were paying 
a true and affecting homage to its Creator; and though * 
their cheerfulness might be boisterous, and its origin 
heathenish, it was far better than that apathy which 
passes by the wonders and beauties of the earth with 
indifference ; or that precision, which, in deprecating the) 
cultivation of pure and simple enjoyments, shuts up the 
heart against the best feelings of kindness to man or 
devotion to God. At any rate, May-morning can never 
cease to have a poetical interest, for it has been hailed 
by Milton in one of the most exquisite songs that our 
language, rich in such excellence, has produced. 

SONG. 

ON MAT MORNING. 

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger. 
Comes dancing from the east, and brings with her 
The flow*ry May, who from her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 
Hail beauteous May that dost inspire 
Mirth and youth and warm desire : 
Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee with our early song, 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 

May 2. — On this day was born in London, fn the 
year 1551, the celebrated "English antiquary, William 
Camden. Camden was originally one of th* under- 
masters of Westminster School. In 1593 he became) 
head-master of that seminary ; but retired from this office 
a few years after on being appointed Clarencieux King 
at Arms. His great work is his Britannia, a learned 
account of the antiquities of our island, which first ap- 
peared in 1 586, in an octavo volume in Latin; but was 
afterwards, in the lifetime of the author, translated into 
English, and in the last edition (edited by Mr. Gough) 
extends to four large folios. He is also the author of ft 
very able and accurate history of the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth. Camden died on the 9th of November, 1623, 
at Chiselhurst, in Kent, and was interred in Westminster 
Abbey, where his monument is still to be seen. Jt k said 
that the nose of his statue on this monument was struck 
off* out of revenge by a person, a relation of whom he had 
mentioned in one of his works in what were conceived to 
be offensive terms. This story is told in his life, written 
by Dr. Thomas Smith. Camden's character stood very 
high in his own day, not only for antiquarian le 
but for gravity, wisdom, modesty, and virtue in 
as the reader may perceive from the following 1 
dressed to him by the celebrated Ben Jonson :— 

"Camden, most reverend head, to whom I owe 
All that ram in arts, all that I knew , 
(How nothing's that !) to whom my country owes 
The great renown and name wherewith she goes. 
Than thee the age sees not that thing more grave, 
More high, more holy, that she more would crave. 
What name, what skill, what ttth hast thou in things ! 
What sight in searching the most antique springs ! 
What weight and what authority in thy speech! 
Man scarce can make that doubt, but thou canst teach* 
Pardon free truth, and let thy modesty, 
Which conquers all, be once overcome by thee. 
Many of thine this better could than I, 
But for their powers accept my piety." 

May 3. — The birth-day of Nicolo Machixvelu, beftk 
at Florence in 1469, the author-of thefiunous treatise 
entitled « The Prince/ in which he delineates the course 
to be pursued by those who would acquire and retain 
supreme power without regarding the character of the 
means which they employ for that end. As in this work 
the author has been supposed to teach and recommend 



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[April 28, 



the dfvict* which he describes, his name has thence ob- 
tained an infamous distinction ; the \ror6~Machiaveti*m t 
Which is derived from it, being used in all the languages 
of modern Europe to express the art of attaining by the 
itfoat crooked and iniquitous policy, 4he objects of the most 
unscrupulous and insatiable tyranny. Nevertheless it 
is extremely doubtful if the intentions of Machiavelli in 
Writing and publishing this work were really such as have 
been commonly ascribed to him. It rather seems pro- 
bable that his object was not to teach and recommend, 
but only to expose tyranny, and to consign it to universal 
hatred by describing its true character, and tracking it 
through the secret and detestable courses which it neces- 
sarily runs. In his otljer works, and especially in his 
Discourses on the First Decade of Livy, Machiavelli has 
uniformly expressed himself in terms of the most ardent 
attachment to the liberties of mankind. Nor did any 
part of his life belle these professions. He was for 
many years Secretary to the Republic of Florence, ancl 
held other high offices and employments, notwithstanding 
which he died in poverty, and left a large family quite 
unprovided for, a fact which seems to afford a strong 
presumption of his integrity and disinterestedness. His 
death took place, according to one account, in 1526, 
according to another in June, 1 527, while a third dates 
the event on the 5th of December, 1530. As a writer 
Machiavelli is greatly celebrated for the strength and 
purity of his Italian style. 



jumping from the chamber-window. In consequence of 
the injury received by this fall, her right arm was ampu- 
tated, and her right leg became entirely useless. Her 
friends were very kind and attentive, and for a short 
time she consented to live on their bounty ; but, aware ' 
that the claims on private charity are very numerous, 
she, with the genuine independence of a strong mind, 
resolved to avail herself of the public provision for the help- 
less poor. The name of going to the alms-house had 
nothing terrifying or disgraceful to her ; for she had been 
taught that conduct is the real standard of respectabi- 
lity. She is there, with a heart full of thankfulness to 
the Giver of all things ; she is patient, pious, and uni- 
formly cheerful. She instructs^the young, encourages 
the old, and makes herself delightful to all, by her 
various knowledge and entertaining conversation. Her 
character reflects dignity on her situation; and those 
who visit the establishment come away with sentiments 
of respect and admiration for this voluntary resident of 
the alms-house. 

%* The atiove is extracted from ' The Frugal Housewife,* a sen- 
sible and useful little book, published in the Uaited States. 



HOW TO ENDURE POVERTY. 
l*HAf a thorough, religious, useful education is the best 
security against misfortune, disgrace, and poverty, is 
universal^ believed and acknowledged ; and to this we 
add the firm conviction, that, when poverty comes (as 
it sometimes will) upon the prudent, the industrious, and 
the well-informed, a judicious education is all-powerful in 
enabling them to endure the evils it cannot always pre- 
vent A mind full of piety and knowledge Is always rich ; 
it is a bank that never fails ; it yields a perpetual divi- 
dend of happiness. 

In a late visit to the alms-house at — , we saw a 
remarkable evidence of the truth of this doctrine. Mrs. 
■■ was early left an orphan. She was educated by an 
uncle and aunt, both of whom had attained the middle 
age of life. Theirs was an industrious, well-ordered, and 
cheerful family. Her uncle was a man of sound judg- 
ment, liberal feelings, and great knowledge of human 
nature. r f his he showed by the education of the young 
people under his care. He allowed them to waste no 
time ; every moment must be spent in learning something, 
or in doing something. He encouraged an entertaining, 
lively style of conversation, bat discountenanced all re- 
marks about persons, families, dress, and engagements ; 
he used to say, parents were not aware how such topics 
frittered away the minds of young people, and what inor- 
dinate importance they learned to attach to them, when 
they heard them constantly talked about. 

In his family, Sunday was a happy day ; for it was 
made a day of religious instruction, without any unna- 
tural constraint upon the gaiety of the young. The Bible 
was the text-book ; the places mentioned in it were 
traced on maps ; the manners and customs of different 
nations were explained ; curious phenomena in the na- 
tural history of those countries were read ; in a word, 
every thing was done to cherish a spirit of humble, yet 
earnest inquiry. In this excellent family Mrs. ■ re- 

mained till her marriage. In the course of fifteen years, 
she lo»t her uncle, her aunt, and her husband. She was 
left destitute, but supported: herself comfortably by her 
own exertionn, and retained the respect and admiration 
of a large circle of friends. Thus she passed her life in 
cheerfulness and honour during ten years ; at the end of 
that time, her humble residence took fire from an ad- 
joining bouse in the night-time, and she escaped by 



FLUCTUATIONS IN THE PRICE OF CORN. 

Excessive fluctuations in the supply of the principal 
articles of food are, whenever they happen, the fruitful 
source of misery to a country. The government of 
China, aware of this truth, is accustomed in years of 
abundance to lay up a store of provisions, by which 
means that densely populated country is rendered in a 
less degree the sport of seasons. The same precau- 
tionary system has been partially adopted in Sweden, 
in Prussia, in Spain, in Denmark, and in other countries. 
Spain is exceedingly fertile in some provinces, and 
under a good system of agriculture might be rendered 
capable of supporting, as it has formerly done, much 
more than the number of its present inhabitants. The 
plenty that would result from this • fertility is coun- 
teracted, however, by excessive droughts ; and although 
the means of irrigation are in some degree provided 
by nature, no attempts are made to render the rivers 
effective to this end. The method employed for mitigat- 
ing the disastrous effects of dearth in that country \s 
peculiar, and has been thus described in Laborde's 
Account of Spain : " Magazines or storehouses, denomi- 
nated posit as, are erected in various parts of the kingdom. 
At present there are in the whole more than five thousand 
of these common depositories. When it is deemed 
requisite to establish any Tof these ~ granaries, every 
occupier of lands is obliged to bring and deposit a 
certain quantity of corn, proportionate to the extent oi. 
his farm. The following year he takes back the corn 
he had thus deposited, and replenishes the empty garner 
with a larger quantity, and thus he continues annually 
to increase the stock by these increments called crtut, ^ 
till a certain measure of grain is deposited ; then every 
one receives back again the whole corn which he has 
furnished, and replaces it by an equal quantity of new 
corn. Whenever a scarcity ha]) pens, these repositories 
are opened and the corn dealt out to the people at a 
moderate price. In some places seed-corn is also dis- 
tributed to necessitous husbandmen, who are bound to 
restore as much in lieu of it the ensuing harvest." 

The institution of such a system as this is probably 
wise in a country circumstanced like Spain, but it could 
only be productive of benefit where there is little internal 
communication, and little foreign commerce. In tact, 
such regulations belong to a state of imperfect civiliza- 
tion. That which it is necessary in Spain to bring about 
by the authority of the government, is in -England effected 
by less questionable means. The commercial genius of 
the people here leads them to withdraw from the mar- 
kets the low-priced superabundance of one year, in order 



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to reap a profit during the deficient season that may fol- 
low ; and thus the supplies of a good season and of a bacj 
are in a great measure equalized to the consumers. In 
ruder states of society, speculators in corn are the ob- 
jects of popular hatred ; when in fact they are amongst 
the most serviceable members of the community. But 
for their operations the people must either incur the 
chances of famine, or the clumsy machinery of govern- 
ment magazines must be resorted to. 



39 



AN EMIGRANTS STRUGGLES. 
*<* Our recent notice of the Hobart Town Almanac has procured 
us the advantage of the following very interesting account of the 
Kcitor. of that work; and the extracts from his correspondence, 
which we shall subsequently give, will furnish an accurate notion 
of the difficulties which an Emigrant to a new country has to en- 
counter, and how they are to be surmounted by courage, skill, and 
integrity. 

Dr. James Ross, the editor of the Hobart Town Alma- 
nac — a work which, as well by its intrinsic merit as by 
the novelty of the attempt, has excited, both at home 
and in "our southern colonies, considerable interest — is 
the youngest son of a Scotch advocate, and was edu- 
cated at the University of Aberdeen. Having, while 
yet a youth, lost both parents, who had made no provi- 
sion for a younger son, he was cast upon the world. 
His first occupation in life was that of superintendent of 
a plantation in the island of Grenada. From his cor- 
respondence at that period, it seems that the sympathies 
of the man for the slave population were not impaired 
by the habits of the manager. " I have often thought 
(he says) of a scheme, which to you may, perhaps, ap- 
pear visionary — to emancipate all the slaves at once, 
leaving every one at his own disposal, when it would 
naturally follow that, having no occupation among them- 
selves, they would be obliged to apply to their former 
white masters for work, and from their great number 
wages would of course be very low, perhaps not more 
than equal to the daily expense which the planter now 
incurs for the support of his slaves. They must rent a 
house, and a small piece of ground to raise provisions, 
and I am persuaded would in time become good sub- 
jects, forming an orderly and civilized state. Each 
would be anxious to obtain a character, in order to pror 
cure a good master, and regular employment ; hospitals 
would be erected for the shelter and nourishment of the 
poor and infirm, and schools for the education of the 
young ifethe first principles of science and morality. 
The face of the country would quickly alter, and this 
land of thraldom become by degrees the habitation of 
freedom and contentment. ,, On his return from the 
West Indies he established a school at Sevenoaks, in 
Kent, whence he removed to Sunbury, in Middlesex. 
There his school received a considerable accession ; but 
the prospect of a large family, the difficulties which 
seemed to cloud that prospect, and more than all, per- 
haps, the vivid colours in which a warm imagination 
depicted unexplored regions, and untried avocations, in- 
duced him to quit his native island. In 1822 he sailed 
for Van piemen's Land, designing to devote tl)e re- 
mainder of his life to the pursuits of agriculture. He 
obtained from the colonial government a liberal grant. 
Guided by the same romantic spirit which led him forth 
from the land of his fathers, he selected an allotment 
far removed even from his fellow emigrants, in the un- 
tft dden wilds of nature, where she sported under the 
sh jde of roaks, amid the din of cataracts. Seated on 
th 1 banks of the Shannon, his little settlement formed 
tf extreme boundary of civilization. Fortunately for 
himself and for the colony, his agricultural speculations 
were not successful. Another destiny awaited him. Of 
his little capital, the most valuable part was a Rind of 
f useful knowledge," admirably suited to supply from 
its varied stores the wants of an infant community, and 
Which an active and versatile mind knew how to put out 



to the best use. Thus qualified, and recommended too 
by unblemished character, indefatigable industry, and 
invincible good humour, he was not long without friends 
and patrons, who recalled him from the solitude which 
he had chosen. Though he had probably never seen a 
type set up, he applied himself to the business Of print- 
ing, and received the appointment of government printer, 
which Mr. Huskisson, when Colonial Secretary, confirmed. 
The first number of the * Hobart Town Courier* issued 
from his press on the 20th October, 1827; the first 
Hobart Town Almanac appeared in January, 1829. He 
also published a small collection of poems. These publi- 
cations were produced in the face of obstacles, which, 
vigorously met and surmounted, almost induce us to 
assign him a niche among the worthies who have laboured 
and triumphed in the " pursuit of knowledge under 
difficulties.'' The sketch which he gives in a letter to a 
friend of his course of life, his numerous callings am! 
incessant labours, is highly graphic. " The colony pros- 
pers, and Hobart Town is double what it was four years 
ago. I publish seven hundred and fifty copies of the 
* Courier,' and calculating that every copy is read by ten 
individuals, I consider myself a man of no small influence 
in a place like this ; and it is, I believe, generally allowed 
that I have operated a wholesome change in the majority 
of the community. To-morrow I begin to write my 
Almanac for 1831, and it must be concluded before a 
month elapses, which, with all my other avocations, 
requires no trifling exertion. This little work has met 
with much encouragement here, and the Lieutenant- 
Governor has sent one home to Sir George Murray. 
I am attempting to get up a map of this country *, and 
am in truth quite a literary and scientific character in my 
small way. I write my articles, engrave my vignettes, set 
the types, adjust the press, correct the proofs, fold up ana 1 
direct my papers, make out accounts, receive and pay 
money, sell my books and papers, answer queries and 
advertisements, &c, all with my own hand. With me the 
words are not unfrequently printed before the ink of the 
manuscript is dry : sometimes I set a few lines myself, 
and dictate at the same time to one or two of my com- 
positors. At other times, being unprepared as usual 
with matter in advance, and my two compositors oil the 
' Courier' dunning me together for copy, I write three 
lines of a sentence to one and three lines of a sentence 
to the other, and so keep them going on, while a dozen 
people come in to interrupt me; yet I find it better, to 
do all myself. J teach my own children (nine in all) at 
the same time that I write paragraphs. Still retaining 
my ardour for botanical pursuits, I have lately purchased 
a large plot of ground, tpirhich I run generally an h&ur 
before dusk to superintend my rustic labourers, who art 
laying out a garden on a fine sipping valley, command- 
ing heavenly views of the DerwenU the town, and ship- 
ping. One part of the ground is so steep that a hun- 
dred wooden steps were requisite to facilitate the ascent. 
Here no deciduous tree, covering the sward with Us 
autumnal ruins, reminds us of the decay of all things. 
My arbors * of cool recess/ and serpentine walks foraed 
put of the native shrubbery, are clothed in perpetual 
green, which borrows vernal freshness from a copious 
spring gushing forth at the highest point, and visiting 
in its descent every plant and flower. Among my live 
and dead stock I reckon five donkeys, two donkey carts, 
and a capital team of six bullocks and a cart." When, to 
these multifarious avocations, we add the offices of town 
librarian, and occasional lecturer at the Mechanics' In- 
stitute (of which he was in a great measure the founder), 
we have such a concentration of duties as peculiar cir- 
cumstances of society, and peculiar aptitude in the indi- 
vidual, could alone produce, and of which the diligent 
discharge justly entitles the editor of the ' Hobart Town 
Almanac* to claim at least from his adopted country 
the praise of having done that little "state some ser* 
* This map has since been published. 



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▼ice." J In our next number we shall lay before our 
readers a lively narrative, from his own pen, of his first 
adventures in the island. 



THE PRINTING-PRESS IN TURKEY. ' 

Ma. Mountstuart Elphinstone, in his very interesting 
Account of the Kingdom of Caubul (a country near the 
higher waters of the Indus, between India and Persia), 
and of the scattered Afghan tribes dependant thereon, 
gives the following anecdote of the Naikpeekhail, who, 
like the rest, profess the Mahometan religion, but are so 
barbarous that even reading is looked down on as an 
unmanly accomplishment among them. 

44 Some men of the Naikpeekhail found a Mollah, or 
doctor of the Mahometan faith, copying the Rhoran, or 
their Bible, and not well understanding the case, they 
■truck his head off, saying, * You tell us these books 
come from God, and here are you making them yourself/ " 

The Turks are not quite so ignorant as this, but even 
they, not many years ago, when Sultan Selim intro- 
duced the art of printing, were led to believe that it was 
sinful to print the Khoran — that nothing but the pen 
+nA hand-writing could, without impiety, multiply the 
• copies of their scriptures. Other works might go 
through the press, but unfortunately, at the time, the 
Turks read no book except the Khoran, and so the 
inestimable benefit of printing was to be thrown away 
upon them ! This absurd prejudice originated in, or was 
kept alive by, the Turkish copyists who gained a liveli- 
hood by transcribing the Khoran, each copy of which 
Cost the people a hundred times as much as the copy the 
press could have afforded* and the printed copy, besides, 
would have been infinitely the more distinct and legible 
of the two. 

The present Sultan, among his many reforms and 
improvements, has succeeded to set the press to work in 
earnest. Many elementary works have been printed, 
•ome three or four of a higher character, on History and 

rsral Geography ; and now a newspaper (that novelty 
the Turks !) comes regularly from the Sultan's 
printing-offices, and is circulated through the vast 
empire. We are informed by a friend, who writes from 
* Constantinople, that it is a very interesting sight to see 
the effects that have already sprung from these salutary 
fpeasures. Instead of every coffee-house being crowded 
us it used to be, by idle, silent, stupified loungers, doing 
nothing but smoking their pipes, you find them now (in 
less numbers indeed, which is also a good thing,) 
Occupied by men attentively reading the newspaper, or 
conning over " the last new work," neatly printed, and 
sold at a very cheap price. Before this, and almost up 
to last year, they were in the condition that all Europe 
wa8 in four hundred years ago, or previously to the 
invention of printing, when only the comparatively rich 
could afford to buy a book or anything to read. Even 
on the quays of the port, and in the bazaars of Constan- 
tinople, you now see Turks occupying their leisure mo- 
ments with the productions of the press, which is thus 
becoming day by day more and more active. 

A COMPARISON BETWEEN GOOD HOUSEWIFERY 
AND EVIL. 

[Thomas Tubsbk.— Died 1580.] 

Ill huswifery lieth 
Till nine of the clock : 

Good huswifery trifcth 
To rise with the cock. 

Ill huswifery trusteth 
To him and to her : 

Good huswifery lusteth 
Herself for to stir. 



Ill huswifery pricketh 
Herself up in pride : 

Good huswifery tricketh 
Her house as a bride. 

Ill huswifery one thing 
Or other must crave : 

Good huswifery nothing 
But needful will have. 

Ill huswifery moveth 
With gossip to spend : 

Good huswifery loveth 
Her household to tend. 

Ill huswifery brooketh 
Mad toys in her head : 

Good huswifery looketh 
That all things be fed. 

Ill huswifery bringeth 
A shilling to naught : , 

Good huswifery singeth — 
Her coffers full fraught 

111 huswifery rendeth. 
And casteth aside : 

Good huswifery mendeth, 
Else would it go wide. 

Ill huswifery craveth 
In secret to borrow : 

Good huswifery saveth 
To-day, for to-morrow. 

Ill huswifery pineth, 
(Not having to eat) : v 

Good huswifery dineth 
With plenty of meat. 

Ill huswifery letteth 
The devil take all : 

Good huswifery setteth 
Good brag of a small. 

We never yet knew a man disposed to scorn the humble 
who was not himself a fair object of scorn to the humblest 
A man of a liberal mind has a reverence for the little pride 
that seasons every condition, and would deem it sacrilege to 
affront, or abate, the respect which is maintained with none 
of the adventitious aids, and solely by the observance of the 
honesties. — Examiner. 

Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, when he abdi- 
cated a throne, and retired to the monastery of St Juste, 
am»*sd himself with the mechanical arts, and particularly 
with that of a watchmaker. He one day exclaimed, " What 
an egregious fool must I have been to have squandered so 
much blood and treasure, in an absurd attempt to make all 
men think alike, when t cannot even make a few watches 
keep time together." 

*<* The Penny Magazine will, in most cases, be delivered weekly 
iu the Towns of the United Kingdom, by Booksellers and News- 
venders, to whom Subscribers should address their Orders. It cannot 
be sent by Post as a Newspaper is, being unstamped. For the 
convenience of those, who, residing in country places, cannot obtain 
the Publication at regular weekly intervals, the Numbers published 
during each Month will be stitched together to form a Monthly Part. 
That this Part may be sold at a convenient and uniform price, a 
Monthly Supplement, consisting chiefly of Notices of such New 
Books as we think right to give a place to in "the Library," will appear 
with the regular Numl>er on the last Saturday in the Month. The price 
of the Part, whether consisting of five or of six Numbers, wiU be Six- 
pence ; each Part will be neatly and strongly done up, in a wrapper. 
Thus, the nmtua! Expense of Twelve Parts will be Six Shillings, vii.— 

s. d. 
52 Regular Numbers .... 4 4 

12 Supplements 1 

12 Wrappers 8 

6 



LONDON :— CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied fFholetale by the following 
Booksellers:— 



London, Ghoombhidoe, Panyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Wkstley trad Co. 
Hull, Stephenson. 
Leeds, Baines and Co. 
Liverpool, Willmxb and Smith. 



Manchester, Robihiok, and Wei • sad 

SIMMS. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Charjtlit. 
Nottingham, Weight. 
Dublin, Wakemak. 
Edinburgh, Oi.rvst; and Bom 
Glasgow, Atkiksoh and Co. 



Printed by William Clowes, Stamford Strtet. 



monWs Sbnppumtm of 

THE PENNY MAGAZINE 



OF TK8 



Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



March 31 to April 30, 1832. 



%• The Penny Magazine will, in most eases, be delivered Weekly in the Towns of the United Kingdom, by Booksellers and Newsvenders, 
to whom Subscribers should address their Orders. It cannot be sent by Post as a Newspaper is, being unstamped. For the convenience 
of those, who, residing in country places, cannot obtain the Publication at regular weekly intervals, the Numbers published during each 
Month will be stitched together to form a Monthly Pari. That this Part may be sold at a convenient and uniform price, a Monthly 
Scppijsmf.nt, consisting, for the most part, of Accounts of New Public Works, Abstracts of important Reports of Public Institutions, and 
of Notices of such New Book* as we think right to give a place to in "the library,*' will appear with the regular Number on the last 
Saturday in the Month. The price of the Part, whether consisting ol 6ve or of six Numbers, will be Sixpence ; each Part will be neatly and 
strongly done up, in a wrapber. Thus, the annual Expense of Twelve Parts will be Six Shillings, viz. : Fifty-two Regular Numbers, 4*. 44.; 
Twelve Supplements, 1*. ; Twelve Wrappers, W.— Total, 6*. 



Old Lc 

the mosl 
rial of 1 
tion — is 
down. 1 
sweeps, 
out rag* 
five bra 
new br 
massive 
fiessesc 
havebe* 
to form, 
mic rut! 
ten's y\ 
or to bur 
dations 
bier Htn 
history \ 
mention 
Bridge 
its duty 
for six 
principa 
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which u 
was aw 
stands 
Voi 



LONDON BRIDGE. 



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[April 30 



London Bridge consists, as may be seen in the above 
elevation, of five semi-elliptic arches. The least of these 
is larger than any other stone arch of this form ever 
erected. The centre arch is 152 feet span, with a rise 
above high-water mark of 29 feet 6 inches ; — the two 
arches next the centre are 140 feet in span ; the abutments 
are each 130 feet in span. The roadway is 53 feet wide 
between the parapets, the footways occupying 9 feet each ; 
the rise in the road is only 1 in 132. The length of the 
bridge, from the extremities of the abutments, is 928 feet ; 



within the abutments, 782 feet. The whole of the bridge 
is buT i of granite, and the total quantity of stone em- 
ploy* d amounts to about 120,000 tons. The new bridge 
is. like the old one, free of toll. The expense has been 
paid, partly by the Corporation and partly by the Go- 
vernment ; — the Corporation are allowed to levy a tax 
(which is to last for twenty-six years) of lOd. per chal- 
dron on all coals entering, the port of London. 

The following plan will give a better idea of the 
approaches to the new bridge tlian any description. 



I 



▲ Pin of Old London Bridge. 
B Plan of New London Bridge. 
a Fwh-Btreet-WU. 
b Monument, 
c St. Magnus. 

4 New Ntreet into Gracecburch-st., 
former]/ Great East- Cheap. 



e Ditto to open to the Monument. 

/ Miles Lane. 

a St. Savionr*f, Soathwark. 

A St. OlaveV, Tooley-street. 

» Toolejr-BtreeL 

j Dry arch for ditto. 

* Dry arch for Thames-street. 



/ Fianmon^rs'-Hnll. 

mThe Borough Hijfh^treet. 

n Proposed new street to the Bank. 

o Gracechurch-streel. 

p East Cheap. 

q Cannon-street. 



r Thames-street. 

U New opening to Tooley-street 

from the Bridge. 
w New streets forming the main 

approach to the Bridge on the 

City side. 



TOtJRNAL OF AN EXPEDITION TO EXPLORE 
THE COURSE AND TERMINATION OF THE 
NIGER, by Richard and John Lander. In 3 
Vols. Illustrated with Engravinqs and Maps, 
12mo. London, 1832. 

This is in the first place a cheap book. According to 
the way in which it has been usual to bring out such 
works, the present would have appeared in the shape of 
probably a two guinea quarto. Instead of printing it in 
this expensive form, however, which would have con- 
fined it to large collections and the more wealthy descrip- 
tion of book-buyers, the publisher has chosen to offer it 
at once to the public in three duodecimos, really a muoh 
more convenient size of volume, and at the moderate price 
of fifteen shillings. This brings it within the means of 
the most economically conducted subscription libraries, 
and makes it, in one important respect at least, reading 
for the people. 

But on other accounts too, this Is a book well calcu- 
lated and eminently deserving to be popular. It is the 
production of two Englishmen of humble birth and 
limited education, who record their own successful exer- 
tions in a path of adventure, full of interest from the dif- 
ficulties with which it is encompassed and the new and 
strange views of life and manners which it discloses. B ut 
there is a further interest arising out of the long period 
during which the discovery that has now been made has 
excited the curiosity of the civilized world, and the num- 
ber of daring and accomplished individuals, most of them 
likewise our own countrymen, who, within the. last half 
century, have risked, and in most instances lost, their lives 
in the vain attempt to effect it The object of the ex- 
pedition, of which these volumes contain an account, was 
to trace the course of the famous African river which 
baa been so long known in geography under the name of 



the Niger, but of which scarcely anything more than the 
name was really known till about thirty-five years ago, 
when the lamented Park first reached its banks. Yet 
even that great traveller succeeded only in discovering 1 
the direction in which a small part of it flowed. Before 
his time the different accounts were directly opposed even 
as to tins matter, some making it flow to the east, others 
to the west. Park ascertained that its true course was in 
the latter direction ; nor had much more been learned 
respecting it since his time till the present travellers only 
last year explored it, actually sailing down the stream, 
almost from its source to its junction with the sea. 
Park went out again in 1805, and reached the Niger as 
before, but never returned to England. It was again 
seen by Captain Clapperton in 1826, but he also perished 
before he could do anything to determine the Ibng- 
contested question as to its course. Richard Lander, the 
elder of the two brothers, whose work is now before 
us, attended Clapperton in the capacity of his servant 
on that expedition ; and after the death of the Captain 
and his two associates^Captain Tearce and Dr. Morrison, 
made an attempt, evincing great intrepidity of cha- 
racter, to prosecute alone the enterprise, which had thus 
already, in its mere commencement, been attended with 
such fatal results. He failed on that occasion in conse- 
quence of being opposed and compelled to turn bncl* 
by the natives ; but he fortunately effected his return 
to England in safety, having arrived in London about 
the end of April, 1828. Some time after it was deter- 
mined by Government to send out him and his brother 
John on a new mission to the scene of his form^ r 
toils and hazarfls. The two accordingly left Eng- 
land together on the 9th of January, 1830, and 
having reached Badagry on the coast of Africa on 
the 22d of March, proceeded a few days after on 



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their journey into the interior. They completely suc- 
ceeded, as we have just mentioned, in their difficult and 
perilous undertaking, and again reached England on the 
9th of June, last year. 

The* present publication is a transcript from the jour- 
nals of the two adventurers, written frqm day today as the 
events related occurred ; and such a transcript is unques- 
tionably much more interesting than any more elabo- 
rately prepared narrative would have been. But even as 
a literary composition, the work, all the circumstances 
considered, is, we have no hesitation in saying, highly 
creditable to the authors. The inconveniences, difficul- 
ties, anxiety, and almost constant illness in a greater or 
less degree, in the midst of which they wrote, might 
well have excused much greater negligence of style than 
is anywhere to be found in these volumes. Richard, the 
elder brother, is declared no* " even to possess the ad- 
vantages of a common-place education ;" and John too, 
although stated to have in this respect the advantage 
of his brother, makes no pretensions to anything like 
learning or scientific acquirements. The narrative, never- 
theless, is written in an easy, perspicuous, and flowing 
style, and betrays very little inaccurate phraseology. 
We would just mention, however, the constant habit of 
saying "acquaintance of" instead of with, and the occa- 
sional use of the vulgarism " to lay " for to lie, as faults 
ofdiction which might easily be weeded out. It appears 
also (if we understand aright the statement of the editor) 
that about the first half of the narrative, although given 
in the name of the elder brother, is really taken from the 
journal of the younger, certain expressions only being 
changed here and thece, to make what was actually 
written by John seem to have proceeded from Richard. 
We see no force in the reasons given for this strange 
arrangement, which seems, by the bye, to have been 
adopted after a considerable part of the first volume had 
been printed. It is productive of a very disagreeable 
effect on the mind of a reader, who likes to make himself 
acquainted, as he goes along, with the characters and 
tastes of the two writers, as well as with their adven- 
tures; and we would therefore recommend that in a 
future edition, the parts of the journal written by each 
should be restored to their proper authors. 

The Messrs. Lander, as we have said, do not profess 
to be in any sense men of learning or of science ; and 
therefore the readers of the present volumes must not 
expect to meet in their pages with any elaborate his- 
torical or antiquarian disquisitions, any speculations on 
the languages of Africa, any precise information respecting 
its geology, its mineralogy, its botany, or other branches 
of its natural history, or even any accurate account of the 
geography of the countries which were passed through. 
Bufto make up for the want of every thing of this kind, 
the work is, we think, as rich as any book of travels we 
ever opened, in all those details by which common read- 
ers are more interested; in such, we mean, as help to 
picture forth to us that state of society and those aspects 
of «* many-coloured life" which met the observation of the 
travellers. Almost every page presents some incident 
illustrative of the manners or modes of thinking, so 
strange and fantastic according to our notions, which 
prevail in that peculiar form of the savage state which is 
exhibited by the Negro monarchies of Africa ; and so en- 
tertaining is the narrative rendered by these delineations, 
and by the history of the toils, and perils, and escapes of 
the bold and persevering adventurers, that we are sure 
no one who may begin the perusal of the book will lay it 
down till he has finished it. Such reading is in the 
highest degree instructive as well as amusing. We see 
here what man is without civilization, how weak, how 
destitute, how unable to protect himself against the most 
common accidents, how much the victim of the bad pas- 
sions of himself and those around him, how continually 
s:ibject to be destroyed by famine and disease, how 



degraded by superstition, how ground to the dust by 
despotism, how pursued and devoured by incessant wars, 
— in short, in all respects, how grovelling, worthless, 
and miserable. The spectacle of savage life which these 
African communities exhibit is, we may also remark, in 
one respect particularly curious ; inasmuch as they have 
all received a sprinkling of something like civilization 
from the commercial intercourse which has long been 
established between them and the Moorish states on the 
coast of the Mediterranean, and the general diffusion, in 
consequence, among many of them, of the Mahometan 
religion. Although they have in this way, however, ob-, 
tained the knowledge of some new arts, and at the same 
time perhaps* of some new wants and new vices, their 
radically savage character cannot be considered as having 
been thereby at all diminished. 

The Journal of the travellers is preceded by a short 
but very clearly drawn up sketch of the previous history of 
African discovery from the pen of the Editor, Lieutenant 
Becher, of. the Royal Navy, which will be found very 
useful to those readers to whom the subject is new. We 
may also take the present opportunity of recommending, 
as containing a very good compendium of the travels of 
former explorers of this part of Africa, the volume entitled 
' Narrative of Discovery and Adventure in Africa,' in the 
Edinburgh Cabinet Library. Although that publication 
does not present so ample an account as it would have 
been desirable that it should of the southern portion of 
the great continent to which it relates, the general de- 
scription which it gives, both of the natural aspect of 
Africa and of the manners of the tribes by whom it is 
inhabited, is very ably and interestingly written; and 
altogether it will be found to be a very useful introduc- 
tion to larger and more elaborate works' on the same 
subject. 

We can only afford room for one extract, which is de- 
scriptive of our travellers' first embarkation on the Niger, 
in the neighbourhood of Boossa : — 

" In the course of the forenoon we repaired to the ride of the river, 
which is about twenty or thirty paces from the town, for the purpose 
of endeavouring to encourage and hurry the workmen in their labour 
about the canoe. Promises and threats were employed to effect this 
object, but the men would neither be coaxed nor intimidated, — they 
would not overwork themselves, they said, for all the riches in our 
possession ; so that we were obliged to leave them, and exercise .our 
patience. The branch of the Niger, which flows by Kagogie, is 
about a mile in width ; but it is rendered so shallow by large sand- 
banks that, except in one very narrow place, a child might wade 
across it without difficulty. Mr. Park chose a deeper and safer 
branch, though it led to the same dangers. 

" Our hurses were conveyed across from here to the opposite side- 
of the river, from whence they will be taken to Yaoorie by land, 
because the canoes of the natives would be too frail a conveyance for 
them. These canoes are of great length, but the workmanship em- 
ployed in making and fashioning them is exceedingly rude and 
careless. Owing, perhaps, to the want of proper trees of sufficient 
magnitude, they are made of two blocks of wood, which are sewn 
together by a thick cord, under which a quantity of straw is placed, 
both inside and out, to prevent the admission of water j but the 
whole is altogether so clumsily executed, that every canes in the 
country is always leaky. 

"Aumt mid-day, the workmen having finished our canoe, the 
luggage was presently put into it, and between twelve and one we 
embarked with our people, and were launched out into the river. 
The direction of this branch was nearly east and west; and we pro- 
ceeded some distance down the stream for the purpose of getting into 
the main branch of the Niger, where there is deeper water. This 
object was soon attained, and we found it flowing from north to 
south through a rich and charming country, which seemed to improve 
in appearance the further we advanced. We were propelled at a good 
rate up a channel, which, from half a mile in breadth, gradually 
widened te rather tatter than a mile. Beautiful, spreading, and spiry 
trees adorned the country on each side of the river, like a park ; 
corn, nearly ripe, waved over the water's ed$B; large, open villages 
appeared every half hour ; and herds of spotted cattle were observed 
grazing and enjoying the cool of the shade. The appearance of the 
river, for several miles, was no less enchanting than its borders ; it 
was as smooth as a lake ; canoes, laden with sheep and goats, were 
paddled by women-down its almost imperceptible current; swallows, 
I and a variety of aquatic birds, were sporting over its glassy suii&ce, 
| which was ornamented by a number of pretty little islands. 

" The heat of the weather distiessed us greatly till the approach 



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With regard to birds domesticated for the use of man, 
when it is considered that the wild turkey of America 
is now commonly reared throughout England, and that 
our barn-door fowl brings his glossy and brilliant plu- 
mage from the " gorgeous East," it is matter of satis- 
faction that experiments are being constantly made by 
the Zoological Society, which may lead to the naturaliza- 
tion of new species of poultry. The curassow, a bird in 
si*e between the fowl and turkey, will possibly in a few 



years be domesticated amongst us; and it is not impro- 
bable that the splendid pheasant of China (cal'ed 
Reevetf Pheasant) and the rwrc jungle fowls of the East, 
may, at no very remote period, be common amongst us. 
In this way the domestic fowls of Europe — the goose, 
the duck, and other species — have been introduced into 
America and the West Indies ; and though they at first 
multiplied slowly, they have now become familiarized to 
the climate. 



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FRAGMENTS OF VOYAGES AND TRAVELS. 
By Captain Basil Hall, R.N. 
To a nation like England, whose greatness and pros- 
perity depend so immediately on navigation and inter- 
course with foreign lands* books of voyages and travels 
will always be particularly interesting. The people of 
other countries, distant from the sea. or cut off from 
foreign commerce, may om motives of 

mere curiosity; but tc other maritime 

people, they offer information essential 10 our pursuits, 
and of real and most important use as instructors and 
guides. Of late years our supply of such works has been 
plentiful ; and there has been, moreover, a considerable 
improvement both in their manner and matter. The 
silly stories of idle and credulous travellers, the prejudiced 
remarks of such as hurried through a country as fast as 
post-horses could carry them, and the vapid diaries of 
tourists whose ideas were absorbed by dinners and beds, 
courts and operas, have given place to the more correct 
aud substantial accounts of men of science, patience, and 
industry, who had eyes and understandings to see and 
to judge for themselves, anj&a proper sense of what was 
worth relating, and what ought to be passed over in 
silenee. 

The officers both of our army and navy having, in 
the course of the general progress of intellectual im- 
provement, acquired a taste for letters, have very ma- 
terially contributed to our stock of information, and 
afforded many details which professional men only could 
give. Among these gentlemen Captain Basil Hall 
occupies a very distinguished post, and he ranks de- 
servedly as one of our h~-* — J * — *--*-:-: •* — 

of voyages and travels 

His work, however 

rather the * Sketch-B 

sort of ' Manual for young Mariners* — than a book of 
voyages and travels ; though it is enriched with many 
lively descriptions) and much valuable information re- 
garding different lands where he has been, and where 
many an English seaman is likely to be again. The 
whole is given with infinite spirit, and with so much bre- 
vity, that ft is surprising how much can be learned from 
it in a few minutes. Trie work consists pf two series of 
three volumes each ; the size of the volumes is con- 
veniently small, and so is their price, being only five 
shillings each volume. We can most conscientiously, 
and we do most warmly, recommend this work to our 
readers. 

We fancy indeed that there are few of the countrymen 
of 

M Nelson, Howe, and Cook, and Jems," 

bill will contrive to get at least a peep of this work. 
For, putting aside those active spirits, among our youths, 
who may be engaged in the naval service on board of 
men-of-war, or in merchant- vessels, or such as are anx- 
ious to enter that line of life, and to obtain an insight 
Into it, how many have a near relative or dear friend 
embarked on the world of waters ? — who is there but is 
interested in knowing " how sailors live at sea," and 
their duties and relaxations, their discipline, their habits, 
aud modes of obtaining comfort in their calling, and an 
honourable distinction amidst their hardships and dan- 
gers ? Now in these handy little volumes all this and 
more is given by one who is not only a sailor himself, but 
a very distinguished member of the profession. He re- 
gards his vocation with enthusiasm, indeed, but without 
prejudice ; and he, moreover, possesses literary talents of 
a high degree that enable him to convey his information 
in a clear, forcible, and most amusing manner. ' To the 
young midshipman, to the man before the mast — to all 
classes and ranks in the service, from the highest to the 
lowest, — these sketches must be useful ; and we cannot 
\t approve of the generous, humane sentiments, which 



Captain Hall introduces everywhere, and advocates with 
great warmth. The comfort and general well-being of 
the sailor seem continually present to his mind ; and he 
is right, when he maintains, that it is only by attention to 
these, and by instilling respect and confidence (we might 
almost say affection) into his crew, that the commander, 
let him be bold and skilful as he may, can hope for a 
career of success and glory, or even for the maintenance 
of discipline on board his ship. The naval service, as 
far as the sailor is concerned, has been very materially 
im] rs. The power of 

tyri absolute command, 

has ; yet the most ad- 

mix L Indeed it would 

be difficult to nnd a more perfect picture of order and 
cleanliness, general comfort aud cheerfulness, than that ' 
which a British man-of-war now presents. This im- 
provement has been mainly owing to.^£htelligent and 
humane officers ; and as it is matter of the Jrighest im- 
portance that the system now adopted should Wpersis^ed 
in, and gradually made even better than it is, wi^hank 
Captain Hall for what he has done, and we shall repeat 
our thanks to all like him, who will from time to time 
keep the subject alive. 

We can readily conceive the pleasure with which our 
honest tars will peruse and listen to these volumes : not 
a mess "on board of his Majesty's ships, or a single 
vessel in the merchant's service, but ought to club and 
get a copy of them." 

There will be found in the pages of this " sea- 
moralist" — (Capt. B. Hall has invented the phrase, 
and is worthy of having it applied to himself) — not 
information, but amusing speculations of 
and a good, cheerful, every-day philoso- 
o all hands on board," and, we may add, 
xu an classes on shore. Indeed, the whole tenor of the 
work is calculated to chase away despondency and ill- 
humour, to make men contented with their situations 
and with themselves, and to keep up a lively and a 
determined spirit for the enjoyment of existence, and 
the discharge of duty ; or, in his own words, — 

" To impart to others similarly circumstanced, a portion of that 
spirit of cheerfulness, and determination to make the most of things, 
which, after thirty years of activity and enjoyment in foreign climes, 
have landed me in perfect contentment at home.*'-*- Vol. i. p. 30. 

We select another delightful specimen of tfie same 
cheerful, buoyant spirit :— 

" Oh the joy t the relief unspeakable ! of feeling one's self fiurly 
under weigk, and of seeing the white cliffs of old England sink fast 
in the north eastern horison right to windward I Let the concocteni 
of romances, and other imaginary tales, say what they please of tho 
joys of returning home ; give me the happiness of a good departure, 
and a boundless world of untried enjoyments arhead ! If a man be 
out of debt and out of love, or only moderately involved in either of 
these delicate predicaments; if he have youth and health and tole- 
rabl ship under his foot, a good officer above him, 

and o serve with, why need he wear and tear his 

feel i leaves behind ? Or rather, why need lie 

grieve to part from those who are better pleased to see him vigorously 
dsinghis duty than idling in other people's way at home? Or where- 
fore should he sigh to leave those enjoyments in which he cannot 
honourably participate till he has earned his title to them by hardy 
service?"— VoLi. p. 123. 

We must conclude our notice of Capt. Basil Hall s 
new series with two or three axioms in the same 
temper : — 

" No one can be permanently cheerful who does not otherwise dis- 
charge his duties ; and I believe that few who do what they can to 
discharge all their duties will fail io be cheerful.* 9 — Vol. ii. p. 286. 

" True cheerfulness is suitable for every day and every hour, for 
company or for solitude, for labour or for relaxation, for sickness or 
for health. It possesses also the important and distinguished cha- 
racteristic of being so admirably adapted to all occupations and to 
all times, that the transition from the gayest to the gravest occupa- 
tions of life may be made by the happy man who enjoys it, not only 
without any abnfpt shock, but with eminent advantage to his dif- — 
ferent occupations."— Vol. ii. p. 290. * 

"There is a consolation, if not a complete remedy, for almost every- 
thing ; and by honourable means and manly exertions there aie few .<{, 
difficulties which may not be surmounted ! "—Vol. ii. p. 21 1 . ' 



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MONTHLT SUPPLEMENT OP 



[April 3D, 



TRANSIT OF MERCURY. 



We intend occasionally to Notice remarkable astronomi- 
cal events, and to accompany our notices with such 
explanations as will, we trust, prove interesting and 
useful to our renders, and be the means in time of con- 
veying much information on the science of astronomy. 
That we may be the more readily understood by those 
who have not had opportunities of attending to this sub- 
ject, we shall avoid the use of technical terms, and shall 
omit to notice many nice distinctions, which, however 
important to the accomplished astronomer, form no 
essential part of a general knowledge of the science. 

On Saturday next the 5th of May, if the sun be ex- 
amined through a darkened glass about nine in the 
morning, a dark spot will appear on one side of the sun's- 
face, which, if watched, will be found gradually to pass 
across, and finally to disappear on the opposite side 
about nine minutes before four. This appearance, which 
is of very rare occurrence, is called a transit (or cross- 
ing) of Mercury. 

Mercury is one of the primary planets, by which term 
is meant a number of bodies similar to the earth, which 
move in circular orbits round the sun. The following 
are the principal primary planets, with the distances of 
each from the sun, and the length of the year of each, 
or the time which each occupies in making a complete 
revolution. 

'Distance from the S»in. Length of Ye*». 

Mercury .... 37 millions of miles. About 88 of our days. 

Venus .... 68 ditto 225 ditto 

The Earth ... 95 ditto 3G5J ditto 

Mars . ... 144 ditto 687 ditto 

Jupiter 490 ditto • • • • • • 12 of our years. 

Saturn 900 ditto 30 ditto 

TheGeorgianplanetl 1800ditto ...... W ditto 

or Uranus . ) 

As Mercury and Venus are nearer to the sun than 
our own planet, it follows that they jnust sometimes pass 
between us and the sun. On Saturday next Mercury 
will pass exactly between the earth and the sun — the 
little dark spot of which we have spoken is therefore 
Mercury. At this time Mercury is of course nearer to 
the earth than the son is by its own distance from the 
sun, namely, thirty-seven millions of miles. Still, owing 
to its small n ess when compared with the sun (the dia- 
meter of-Mercury being little more than three thousand, 
while that of the sun is nearly nine hundred thousand, 
miles) it will appear to be an exceedingly minute spot 
on the sun's face, perhaps invisible to ail but the best 
eyes, unless assisted by a telescope. 

As Mercury moves round the sun four times in one of 
our years, it might perhaps be expected that transits of 
this planet should be of very frequent occurrence : such 
however is not the case. The last transit of Mercury, 
visible in this country, was on the 9th of November, 
1802 ; the next will be on the 8th of May, 1845. There 
was a transit in 1815, and another in 1S22 ; but, as 
these took place in our night, they were of course invi- 
sible in this country. A transit in the year 1835 will 
not be seen here for the same reason. We shall endea- 
vour in a future number to explain why a transit is not 
seen every revolution, and shall at the same time enter 
more fully on some other of the scientific parts of the 
subject At present we shall confine ourselves to a few 
practical directions for observing the transit. 

To protect the eye from the light of the sun a darkened 
glass should be used. Small telescopes, which will be 
very useful on this occasion, are seldom furnished with 
such glasses, but they may readily be made by holding 
a piece of window-glass in the flame of a candle till it 
is smoked. The exact time at which the transit will 
commence, aa seen from Greenwich, is thirty-two seconds 
before nine o clock , the exact time at which it will ter- 
minate is fifty-one minutes and one second after three. 
Those who live to the east of Greenwich must add about 



four minutes for each degree of longitude in either case; 
and those who livje to the west of London must deduct 
at the same rate. 

The phenomenon of the passage of a planet over th-e 
sun's disc was quite unattended to before the invention 
of the telescope by Galileo, in the beginning of th* 
seventeenth century. Even three transits of Mercury, 
which happened in 1615, 1618, and 16*8. all subse- 
quently to the invention of that instrument, were allowed 
to pass unheeded, although that of 1618 might hnve 
been seen from various places in Europe. But in 
1629 the great Kepler awakened the attention of astro- 
nomers to the subject, by announcing in a paper, which 
he published at Leipsic, that there would be a transit of 
Mercury in 1631, one of Venus the same year, and ano- 
ther of Vemis in 1761. Kepler died in November, 1630, 
and had not therefore the satisfaction of seeing any of 
the particulars of his prediction fulfilled ; but the transit 
of Mercury was in fact seen at Paris by the celebrated 
Garsendi, on the 6th of December, 1 631. This was the 
first observation of a transit. The transit of Venus, 
which Kepler had calculated would take place this year, 
was not seen ; but another transit of that planet, which 
he had not foretold, was observed on the 4th of Decem- 
ber, 1639, at Pool, near Liverpool, by Jeremiah llorrox, 
an English astronomer, then only in the twentieth year 
of his age, but who had already acquired a distinguished 
reputation, and given promise of the most brilliant success 
in the high walk of science upon which he had entered. 
Horrox, whose knowledge of astronomy was self-acquired, 
lived only so long as to finish his treatise, entitled * Venus 
in Sole Visa,' (Venus seen in the sun,) being an account 
of the phenomenon which he had observed, accompanied 
with many originaland ingenious deductions. He died 
on the 3d of January, 1640, only a few days after he 
had completed this work. But the first person who 
thoroughly investigated the theory of these transits, and 
pointed out the full importance of the results to be ob- 
tained from the observation of them, was the great 
English astronomer, Halley, so celebrated for many other 
services of the highest value to the science which he cul- 
tivated. He showed that the transit of Venus, if ob- 
served under certain circumstances, would afford the 
means of determining with accuracy what all the efforts 
of astronomers had hitherto failed to ascertain, the dis- 
tance of the earth from the sun. Halley died at a great 
age in 1742, after having confirmed Kepler's announce- 
ment that the next transit of Venus would take place in 
the beginning of June, 1761, and also calculated the 
dates of a succession of subsequent phenomena of the 
same ktnd. Our countryman* Dr. Maskelyne, was sent 
in 1761, at the expense of Government, to St. Helena, to 
observe the appearance which had been thus so long 
foretold ; but the clouds which covered the sky on the 
important day prevented the transit from being seen on 
that station. It was, however, observed by able astro- 
nomers in various other places, of which some were 
sufficiently distant from each other (for that was essen- 
tial) to afford the requisite data or materials for the 
deduction as to the sun's distance suggested by Halley. 
The next instance of the occurrence of this rare pheno- 
menon was in the beginning of June, 1769 ; and on this 
occasion also the English Government, with honourable 
liberality, U id to forward the interests of 

science, by sedition to the South Seas, 

principally of obtaining an observation 

of the trans quarter. This was the first 

of the thr onducted by the celebrated 

Captain Cc nd the scientific gentlemen 

who accompaniea mm, we transit was very favourably 
observed on the 3d of June at the island of Otaheiic. 
These three are the only transits of Venus that have yet 
been observed. The next will occur in 1874 and ISS2 
The transitu of Mercury are much more common, hap 



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47 



peniug generally to the number of fourteen or fifteen in 
a century. In the present century the phenomenon has 
already occurred in the years 1802, 1815, and 1822; 
and besides that which will take place on the 5th of 
May, there will be other transits of Mercury in 1835 
and 1845, as already stated; and in 4848, 1861, 1868, 
1878, 1881, 1891, and 1894. 



HOME COLONIES. 

[Sketch of a plan for the gradual Extinction of Pauperism and the 
Diminution of Crime. By Rowland Hili , 8vo. London. 1832. 
Pp.52. Price 1*. 6<l.] 

Most of our readers have probably heard of the Home 
Colonies, as they have been called, of Holland and 
Belgium, or the agricultural settlements which have 
been formed in those countries within the last few 
rears for the employment and' maintenance of a certain 
number of the pauper population, who had previously 
been supported wholly ^y charity and in idleness. The 
establishments in question contain at present about ten 
thousand individuals. "These people," says the writer 
before us, " were placed on waste soils, whick they 
have brought into a state of considerable fertility. They 
are occupied chiefly in cultivating the land, but partly 
in manufactures; they supply nearly all their own 
wants, and have a considerable surplus for sale. The 
capital advanced tor their complete establishment was 
on an average about 21/. per individual; and the co,- 
loiikts have hitherto paid annually an interest of b\ per 
cent, on this capital, with such an addition as will gra- 
dually extinguish the whole debt; besides this, many 
paupers have saved sufficient capital of their own to be 
?ble to leave the colony, and establish themselves in 
independence and comfort*." 

The object of the present publication is to urge our 
government to make an experiment upon a compara- 
tively small scale, with the view of ascertaining the prac- 
ticability and desirableness of introducing into this 
country the plan for the diminution and eventual ex- 
tinction of pauperism which has thus been tried in the 

' Netherlands. The writer, whose pamphlet is pervaded 
■y a benevolent spirit, supports his views with ability, 

. and at the same time with a calmness of temper becom- 

^^ag the discussion of such a subject, 
i t is not, however, a mere imitation or repetition of 
,what has been done in the Netherlands which Mr. Hill 
proposes should be attempted here. He conceives that 
transplanting hither the system of our neighbours, we 
nfc^ht both add in an important degree to its efficiency, 
g^ive it altogether a higher aim. "In the experi- 
aental colony," he says, "great advantage might be 
alen of the experience gained in the Netherlands ; 
insider able improvements, particularly as regard mo- 
es to good conduct, might, it is thought, be intro- 
ueed. Superior economy might be adopted in the 
imstruclten and arrangement of the buildings, and in 
he preparation of food; and the whole body, adults 
is well as children, might be usefully educated." The 
kst- mentioned suggestion is by far the most important 
n the innovations which the author would make upon 
ie original scheme; and as such f* : - * — *~ J u - u: — 
iroughout his remarks. 
He proposes that i\ie experiment 
the first instance upon such a sea 
K>ut eighty families, or about fiv 
dividuals; a number which,, he 
i Urnflnenfc would afford the requisite quantity of land, say 
1 x hundred acres, from the crown lauds, might be lo- 
rted, provided with cottages and furniture, implements 
husbandry, mechanieal implements, seeds to com- 
lenoe with, provisions for one year, a cow, a pig, poul- 

\+ It has been stated to us upon good authority, that the Pauper Co- 
j* of Holland have not been so successful, in a pecuniary point of 
9 as had been anticipated j and that in point of (act they are not 
1/ to repay the capital advanced upon them. 



try, &c. for each, for the sum of 10,000*. This estimate, 
however, is made on the supposition that Government 
would also, as has been done in Holland, allow the co- 
lonists exemption, where practicable, from tales direct 
and indirect on the articles consumed by them, together 
with freedom from tithes. If the plan were thus set on 
foot, we are entitled, it is argued, looking merely to 
financial results, to expect that the colonists after a" few 
years would be able both to pay a high rate of interest on 
the capital advanced, and also to contribute every year 
something considerable for its repayment A fair rent, 
it is maintained, would also be obtained for the land, 
although it might be such as is at present quite unculti- 
vated and useless, but to the full as capable of improve- 
ment as that upon which the Dutch settlements have 
been formed. Of this description of land there are not 
less than fifteen millions of acres in the British Isles, and 
nearly three millions and a half in England alone, partly 
the property of the crown. 

It is well remarked by the author, in reference to the 
effect that would be produced by even the partial intro- 
duction of his plan, that "the number of paupers that 
may in a short time be withdrawn from the different 
parishes for the home colonies, will by no means represent 
the extent to which pauperism will be reduced." Perhaps 
political economists have not usually stated so strongly 
as they might have done the immense effect that may be 
produced on the rate of wages, or in other words on the 
comfort of the labouring classes, by the very smallest 
excess in their numbers. Suppose that in a certain parish 
the quantity of employment that can be given bears 
such a proportion to the number of the labourers that 
each of them receives for his wages two shillings and six- 
pence a day, the arrival of even a single new hand might 
operate a reduction of wages over the whole parish ; for 
rather than want employment altogether, this supernu- 
merary will be willing to work for something less than 
what the others receive: he will offer his labour, we shul! 
say, at two shillings a day. This will be at once tempta- 
tion enough for some one to employ him, and in order to 
make room for him, to dismiss another man to whom lie 
has been paying the higher rate of wages. But the evil 
will not thus be removed. The person who has -been 
dismissed finds himself now exactly in the same situation 
in which the new-comer was. He is now a supernumerary. 
In order therefore to obtain employment and bread, he 
must just do as the other did;* he must offer to work for 
a reduced rate of wages. His offer is of course accepted, 
and in consequence another of the high-paid men is dis- 
placed, who again resorts to a similar method of recover 
ing employment for himself at the expense of somebody 
else; and thus the process goes on till in the end all the 
labourers in the parish have been forced to consent lo 
work Tor two shillings a day. Practically, indeed, the 
matter would be still more expeditiously managed; fcr 
on the first announcement by one of the masters to his 
men that in consequence of the offer of the new-comer 
he meant to dismiss whoever of them would not accep* 
of the reduced rate, the uselessness of attempting to slanc: 
out would be universally perceived, and two shillings a 
dav would at once become the rate of wages throughout 
depreciation might not end even 
ition in question had been made, 
r labourer would still remain as at 
again to work for something less 
)f wages, might operate a second 
general reaucuon. And thus things would proceed, un- 
til the competition among the labourers, and the conse- 
quent fteclension of their wages, were put a stop to to- 
gether, either by the diminution in the cost of production, 
which the latter circumstance had occasioned, enabling 
the master to employ more hands, or by the gains of the 
men being ground down to bo low a point as just to sus- 
tain existence. Now if 00 great an effect in one direction 
may be produced by so small an excess in the number or 



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48 

the labourers, it is ewdent that a very small diminution 
of their number might produce an equally great effect in 
the opposite direction. If there were employment even 
for only one man more than could be got to hire, the rate 
of wages would be inevitably forced up to the point at 
which either the profits of the masters would no longer 
enable them to give the same quantity of employment, 
or the increased temptation would attract an additional 
supply of labour to the market. We can here of course 
only indicate the tendency of the principle in the general 
way, and cannot attempt to examine how far its ac- 
tual operation is modified by the poor laws and the 
other institutions which prevail in an artificial and com- 
plicated state of society. But what we have said is 
enough to pla< it the extent of the effect 

that would be removal, either in the way 

which our autl 1 any other mode, such as 

emigration, ol ill number of individuals 

from any of o\ apartments of industry. 

Mr. Hill d le objection against the 

employment or me poor in the cultivation and im- 
provement of inferior soils, drawn from the considera- 
tion, that it must necessarily be unprofitable to bestow 
labour upon ground of a worse quality than the worst 
which is at present in cultivation ; and of such a descrip- 
tion must be that upon which the paupers are to be 
located, else, it is evident, they would only, wherever they 
were settled, displace an equal number of other cultiva- 
tors. This is indeed an objection which bears with equal 
force against every other scheme as well as the present for 
Employing the poor in the cultivation of such of our lands 
at hogm^bokye not'yet been brought under the plough. 
It is, 3» tfjjfL just the consideration which is conceived to 
deeigfa tfl ^jSestk m between home colonization and emi- 
gration; although we believe Mr. Hill does not advert to 
it even in the remarks which he makes towards the con- 
clusion of his pamphlet upon (he comparative advantages 1 
of these two methods of disposing of our superabundanl 
population. It may certainly, however, be maintained 
that this objection does not hold as applied to the parti- 
cular case of paupers. The proportion of our population, 
whom it is here proposed to employ in the cultivation of 
our waste lands, are persons who are at present supported 
in absolute idleness, who do no work whatever, and are 
simply a burden upon the national resources. * In other 
words, on the one side of us is the useless land, on the 
other are the equally unproductive paupers. It appears 
therefore reasonable to conclude, that a sure gain, of 
some amount I, would be obtained by 

bringing these nasses together, by setting 

the paupers 1 sow the land, instead 5[ 

keeping them side merely to look upon 

it. Take the mun uuiavourable supposition; let it be 
allowed that they will neither be able to pay any rent, 
nor even to raise more food than will suffice for half their 
maintenance; still to that amount the other classes of 
society are relieved from the burden of supporting them. 
We do not disincumber ourselves of the whole Toad of 
our pauperism ; but w< ialf. It is the 

same thing as when a 5 opportunity, 

when his children have age, of reliev- 

ing himself, if not of the whole cost of maintaining them, 
at least of part of it, by setting them to employments at 
which they may earn some wages, however small He 
does not think that he derives no benefit at all from what 
they earn, although their gains may not suffice for their 
entire support; and so with regard to the employment 
of our paupers on our waste lands. Let each individual 
to employed make but a penny or a farthing a day, and 
still it is evident that the result would be so far more 
profitable than that of the present system. 

Upon the whole we recommend the present pamphlet 
to the study of all who take an interest m fto important 
subject of which it treats. The views of tt%pJBor will 
be found to be in many respects both noa/el and valuable. 



MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT, 



[April SO, 1682. 



MONTHLY NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS. 

The number of communications that have been addressed 
"to the Editor of the Penny Magazine" is so considerable, 
that a portion of the writers must not think themselves neg- 
lected, if no public notice is taken of then* suggestions, 
and if their contributions are not inserted. It is by no 
means the wish of the conductors of this little work to dis- 
courage correspondents; on the contrary, they feel grateful 
for every hint and every offer of assistance. But it is evi- 
dent that on account of the very limited space which these 
columns afford, Jltted for publication, 

must be omitt* done; and it is also 

manifest that it istice to thousands of 

readers to entei t regard to all contri- 

butions, becaus ch explanations could 

only be interes correspondent. Nor 

can the conduc m the articles which 

are sent to them, except m very pvrucular cases. All that 
they can o do is, to examine every com- 

municatj und attention; and from this 

anxiety to render justice to their correspondents, it will 
often result that the object of a« writer will be effectually 
attained, although no direct acknowledgment of the obliga- 
tion may take up that space which could ill he Bpared for 
personal civilities. 

The story of ' The Fireman's Dog' shall be inquired into. 

The writer who speaks so contemptuously of the people 
and government of the United States, must be informed 
that it is no part of our object to foster national prejudices; 
but that we hope to do something towards correcting erro- 
neous opinions, so as to promote the peaceful intercourse, 
and therefore the general prosperity, of all mankind. 

We cannot enter into a controversy whether Fulton, or 
Mr. William Lymington, was the inventor of the steam- 
boat. What has been said of Arkwright may apply 
to Fulton: — "The several inventions which his patent em- 
braced, whether they were his own or not, would probably, 
but for him, have perished with their authors ; none of 
whom, except himself, had the determination and courage 
to face the multiplied fatigues and dangers that lay in toe 
I a practical exemplification of what they 
tBbir minds.*' 

1*. K. on High Duties will appear. , 

The gentleman who complains that six or seven articles in 
4 the Penny Magazine* of Saturday, April 6, had previously 
appeared in the 'New Entertaining Press' of Wednes- 
day, April 3, and who suspects, therefore, that the Society 
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge was in this way 
compelled to find matter for popular instruction, is informed 
that the greater number of these articles were written ex- 
pressly for this Magazine — that they were sent to press ten 
days before the day of publication, that the great demand for 
our little work might be supplied — and that some person 
connected with the 'New Entertaining Press* by acci- 
dent obtained the number in question, and thus fraudu- 
lently appropriated a portion of its contents. This conduct 
has not been repeated. 

It is affirmed, by half a dozen correspondents, that the 
bronze horse at Charing Cross has a girth. It is stated in 
all the histories of London that the same horse has net a 
girth ; and it is added, by some, that the sculptor hanged 
himself on account of the omission. The article in oar 
Magazine was written by a person of very competent ami 
quarian knowledge, and we therefore relied' upon his autho- 
rity. We now believe, however, that the horse has two 
girths, although they are so faintly marked as to be recog- 
nized -with difficulty by the eye from below. 

Without pledging ourselves to insert the contribute 
accompanying the note of W. R., we shall be glad again to 
hear from him, as we respect his motives, and would gladly 
assist his plan to a limited extent He must see thai, front 
our narrow space, our extracts even from the very best 
standard works must be necessarily few. * . * 



LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. ' 
Shopkeepers and Hemkers mag be nmpU ed JThotasale fry the fo U emmg 

Manchester, Robinson ; and Wmsmtmi 

SIMMS. 



London, Gboommumk, Panytr Alloy, 

Faternottsr Row. 
Birmingham, Dbakx. 
Bristol Wxstltt and Co. 
HmU, Stkthewbon. 
Leeds, Sanrxs and Co. 
lAeerpool, Whams* and Smjtm. 



Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Chautix* 
Nottingham, Wkioht. 
JhMin, Wakkman. 
BdinbmrgK Olive* and BoVM. 
Glasgow, Anmrsov and Ok » 



Priattdby Wiuiam Cloww, Stanford Stmtt 



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OP THB 

Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



6] 



PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[May 5, 1832 



COFFEE. 



[Coffee, with the Flower and Berry.] 

Coffee is the deed contained in a berry, the produce 
of a moderate-sized tree called the CoffeU Arabica, and 
which has also been named Jasminum Arabicum. This 
tree grows erect, with a single stem, to the height of 
from eight to twelve feet, and has long, undivided, slen- 
der branches, bending downwards : these are furnished 
with evergreen leaves, not unlike those of the bay-tree. 
The blossoms are white, sitting on short foot-stalks, and 
resembling the flower of the jasmine. The fruit which 
succeeds is a red berry, resembling a cherry, and having 
a pale, insipid, and somewhat glutinous pulp, enclosing 
two hard oval seeds, each about the size of an ordinary 
pea. One side of the seed is convex, while the other is 
flat, and has a little straight furrow inscribed through its 
longest dimension ; while growing, the flat sides of the 
seed are towards each other. These seeds are immedi- 
ately covered by a cartilaginous membrane which has 
received the name of the parchment. 

Botanists have enumerated several varieties of this 
tree as existing in the Eastern and Western Hemi- 
spheres. These varieties result from accidents of soil 
and climate, and must have been produced subsequently 
to the naturalizing of the plant in America, since it is 
pretty certainly shown, that all the coffee-trees cultivated 
there are the progeny of one plant, which so recently as 
the year 1714 was presented by the magistrates of Am- 
sterdam to Louis XIV., King of France. This plant 
was- placed at Marly under the care of the celebrated 
Mons. de Jussieu, and it was not until some years after 
this that plants were conveyed to Surinam, Cayenne, and 
Martinico. The cultivation must have afterwards spread 
pretty rapidly through the islands, since in the year 1732 
the production of coffee was considered to be of sufficient 
consequence in Jamaica to call for an act of the legisla- 
ture in its favour. 

The use of coffee as an alimentary infusion was known 

in Arabia, long before the period just mentioned. All 

• authorities agree in ascribing its introduction to Megal- 

leddin, Mufti of Aden, in Arabia Felix, who had become 

acquainted with it in Persia, and had recourse to it me- 

Vol. I. 



dicinally when he returned to his own country. The 
progress which it made was by no means rapid at first, 
and it was not until the year 1554 that coffee was pub- 
licly sold at Constantinople. 

Soon after its introduction into the capital of Turkey, 
the ministers of religion having made it the subject of 
solemn complaint that the mosques were deserted while 
the coffee-houses were crowded, these latter were shut by 
order of the Mufti, who employed the police of the city 
to prevent any one from drinking coffee. This prohibi- 
tion it was found impossible to establish, so that the 
government laid a tax upon «the sale of the beverage, 
which produced a considerable revenue. 

The consumption of coffee is exceedingly great in 
Turkey, and this fact may be in a great measure ac- 
counted for by the strict prohibition which the Moslem 
religion lays against the use of wine and spirituous 
liquors. So necessary was coffee at one time considered 
among the people, that the refusal to supply it in reason- 
able quantity to a wife, was reckoned among the legal 
causes for a divorce. • 

Much uncertainty prevails with respect to the first in- 
troduction of coffee into use in the western parts of 
Europe. The Venetians, who traded much with the 
Levant, were probably the first to adopt its use. A letter, 
written in 1615 from Constantinople, by Peter de la 
Valle, a Venetian, acquaints his correspondent with the 
writer's intention of bringing home to Italy some coffee, 
which he speaks of as an article unknown in his own 
country. Thirty years after this, some gentlemen return- 
ing from Constantinople to Marseilles brought with them 
a supply of this luxury, together with the vessels required 
for its preparation ; but it was not until .1 67 1 that the first 
house was opened in that city for the sale of the pre- 
pared.beverage. 

Coffee-houses date their origin in London from an 
earlier period. The first was opened in George Yard, 
Lombard Street, by one Pasqua, a Greek, who was 
brought over in 1652 by a Turkey merchant named 
Edwards. 

The first mention of coffee that occurs in our statute 
books, is found in the act 12th Car. ii. cap. 24, (in the 
year 1660,) by which a duty of four-pence per gallon, to 
be paid by the maker, was imposed upon all coffee made 
and sold: three years after this, coffee-houses were 
directed to be licensed by the magistrates at quarter- 
sessions. 

Coffee cannot be cultivated to advantage in climates 
where the temperature at any time descends below 55 
degrees of Fahrenheit's scale. The trees flourish most 
in new soils on a gentle slope, Where water will not 
lodge about the roots. In exposed situations it is neces- 
sary to moderate the scorching heat of the sun by plant- 
ing rows of umbrageous trees at certain intervals 
throughout the field. 

The trees begin bearing when they are two years old ; 
in their third year they are in full bearing. The aspect 
of a coffee plantation during the period of flowering, 
which does not last longer than one or two days, is very 
interesting. In one night the blossoms expand them- 
selves so profusely as to present the same appearance 
which has sometimes been witnessed in England when 
a casual snow-storm at the close of autumn has loaded 
the trees while still furnished with their full complement 
of foliage. The seeds are known to be ripe when the 

H 



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berries assume a dark red colour, and if not then gathered 
will drop from the trees. The planters in Arabia do not 
pluck the fruit, but place cloths for its reception beneath 
the trees, which they shake, and the ripened berries drop 
readily. These are afterwards spread upon mats and 
exposed to the sun's rays until perfectly dry, when the 
husk is broken with large heavy rollers made either of 
wood or of stone. The coffee thus cleared of its husk is 
again dried thoroughly in the snn, that it may not be 
liable to heat when packed for sliipment. 

The method employed in the West Indies differs from 
this. Negroes are set to gather such of the berries as 
are sufficiently ripe, and for this purpose are provided 
each with a canvas bag having an iron ring or hoop a' 
its mouth to keep it always distended, and thi6 bay js 
slung round the neck so as to leave both hands at f Luerty. 
As often as this bag is filled, the contents are fansferred 
to a large basket placed conveniently for the purpose. 
It is the usual calculation, that each bushel of ripe ber- 
ries will yield ten pounds weight merchantable coffee. 

In curing coffee it is sometimes usual to expose the 
berries to the sun's rays in layers, five or six inches deep, 
on a platform. By this means the pulp ferments in a 
few days, and having thus thrown off a strong acidulous 
moisture, dries gradually during about three weeks : the 
husks are afterwards separated from the seeds in a mill. 
Other planters remove the pulp from the seeds as soon 
as the berries are gathered. The pulping mill used for 
this purpose consists of a horizontal fluted roller, turned 
by a crank and acting against a moveable breast board, 
so placed as to prevent the passage of whole berries be- 
tween itself and the roller. The pulp is then separated 
from the seeds by washing them, and the latter are 
spread out in the sun to dry them. It is then necessary 
to remove the membranous skin or ^archment, which is 
effected by means of heavy rollers running in a trough 
wherein the seeds are put. This mill is forked by 
cattle. The seeds are afterwards winnowed to separate the 
chaff, and if any among them appear to have escaped the 
action of the roller, they are again passed through the mill. 

The roasting of coffee for use is a process which re* 
quires some nicety ; if burned, much of the fine aromatic 
flavour will be destroyed, and a disagreeable bitter taste 
substituted. The roasting is now usually performed in 
a cylindrical vessel which is continually turned upon its 
axis over the fire-place, in order to prevent the too great 
heating of any one part, and to accomplish the continual 
shifting of the contents. Coffee should never be kept 
for any length of time after it has been roasted, and 
should never be ground until it is required for infusion, 
or some portion of its fine flavour will be dissipated. 

The quantity of coffee consumed in Europe is very 
great. Humboldt estimates it at nearly one hundred 
and twenty millions of pounds, about one-fourth of 
which is consumed in France. Since the time when this 
estimate was made, a vast increase has been experienced in 
the use of coffee in England. This was at first occasioned 
by the very considerable abatement made in the rate of 
duty, and the public taste has since been continually 
growing more and more favourable to its consumption. 

POPULATION OF FRANCE. 
The Annuaire (or Almanac) for 1832, published by 
the Board of Longitude in France, contains, as usual, 
a mass of information on the subject of the population 
of that country. The tables and observations which are 
given under this head occupy about forty-five pages of 
the present volume. 

The first table presents us with a view of the law of 
mortality in France; that is, of the rate at which it has 
been ascertained that the inhabitants of that country die 
in any given number of years. From this table it ap- 
pears, that of a million of children born in any parti- 
cular year, 232,475, or not many fewer than one-fourth 



of the whole number, will probably die before they are a 
year old. The next nineteen years carry off very nearly 
another fourth, there being only 502,216, or a few more 
than the half of the whole, who reach the age of twenty. 
At the end of forty-five years, there will remain only 
334,072, or not many more than one-third of the whole 
million. Not quite so many as one in ten will reach the 
age of seventy-two, nor will one in a hundred reach that 
of eighty-six. Rather more than one in a thousand will 
live to be ninety-five years old, and rather more than one 
in five thousand may reach the age of a hundred. After 
the lapse of a hundred and ten years, the probability is, 
(bat the whole million will be in their graves. It is pro- 
per, however, to observe, that this table is calculated from 
facts collected a considerable number of years ago, and 
that there can be no doubt the results are not so favourable 
as would be derived from observations made at present. 
Indeed, it is ascertained that, owing partly to the intro- 
duction of vaccination, and partly to th* increased com- 
forts and improved mode of living of the people, the 
mean or average duration of human life in France is 
fully three years greater nqw than it was before the 
Revolution, the date for which this table is constructed. 
Instead of twenty-eight years and three quarters, which 
the mean duration was then, it is now about thirty-two 
years ano one-tenth. 

Another table furnishes us with the actual number ot 
births, marriages, and deaths, that took place in France 
during the year 1829, the last for which the returns have 
been made up. Tne whole population of the country in 
1820, when the last census was taken, was 30,451,187 ; 
and, in 1829, it was, probably, fully thirty-two millions. 
The number of marriages, then, which took place that 
year among this population, was 250,342, so that rather 
more than one person out of every sixty-four was married 
in the course of the year. The total number of deaths 
was 806,723, or somewhat more than one for every forty 
of the whole inhabitants. But to supply this waste, the 
number of births, in the course of the year, was 964,343, 
or 1 57,620 more than the deaths. In several preceding 
years the excess had been still larger. Indeed, it had 
only been so small twice during the preceding twelve 
years; namely, in 1826 and 1828. In 1821, the excess 
had been so high as 212,144 ; and both in 1823 and 
1824, it was more than 220,000. Taking the average 
of thirteen years, the annual increase of the population 
thus occasioned had amounted to about 186,000 souls. 
At this rate the population of France will not double 
itself in less than 116 years. The number of persons 
of the age of one hundred and upwards, who died in 
France in 1829, was 158. 

Of the 964,343 children who were born this year, 
69,416, or nearly one in every fourteen, were illegitimate. 
Of the legitimate children 460,549 were males ; 434,378 
females. Of the natural children, 35,365 were males ; 
34,051 females. Upon the whole number of births in 
France, the males appear to be to the females nearly as 
17 to 16 ; a proportion considerably different from that 
which has been usually assumed. It has been cbmmonly 
reckoned that 22 boys were born for every 21 girls. 

Tike Annuaire also contains an account of the pro- 
gress of the population of Paris for the year 1830. 
The number of marriages which took place this year in 
the French capital was 7324 ; the number of births 
28,587 ; and the number of deaths 27,466. Of the 
children born 10,007 were illegitimate ; and of these, 
7749 were abandoned by their parents. Of the deaths 
524 were occasioned by small-pox. 1069 persons, 
namely 395 men, and 674 women, are enumerated as 
Jiaving attained to the age of between eighty and a hun- 
dred years. On the other hand, of the whole number of 
children born, 2615 males and, 2184 females, making 
4799 in all, are stated to have died before they were a 
year old Of these, only 54 were cut off by small-pox. 



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51 



AN EMIGRANTS STRUGGLES. 

Hermitage, on the Shannon, Pan Diemen't Land, 
30th September, 1823. 

Let not those " who go down to the sea in ships" flatter 
themselves that they are about to leave the load of life — 
their cares, their sorrows, and their vanities — behind 
them, and to embark only their hopes, their pleasures, 
and their gentler affections. The Greek and Roman 
poets, who wrote some two thousand years ago, when 
human nature was pretty much the same as now, in- 
struct us that our passions and opinions cling to us 
through every change of place and clime-— that we can- 
not by crossing the high seas shake off our proper 
selves; and Horace, in particular, describes care as 
boarding the galley, and mingling in the race — as fleeter 
even than the deer or the wind. But to quote Horace 
in this unclassic soil would be highly penal. If, there- 
fore, you have not the original at hand, you must be 
content with a few staves from my expatriated muse, 
composed in the short intervals of laoour, between the 
strokes of the axe and the gratings of the saw: — 

We urge in vain the courser's pace, 
The stag's device in vain we learn, 

While Care maintains an equal race, 
While dogg*d by fat%at ev'ry turn. 

In vain we rear the soaring mast, 
And spread the swelling sail in vain, 

Care, swifter than the viewless blast, 
Overtakes us on the stormy main. 

For not a vessel cleaves the tide 

But misery finds a cabin there, 
Love, malice, envy, climb her side, 

And freight her with corroding can. 

Tis well to praise her burnish'd deck, 
Her gallant trim, and hearts of oak— 

Oh ! many a heart has suffered wreck, 
And many a tender cord is broke. 

What then remains, if hope be vain, 
From canvas wing, and breezes fair? 

Reverse the sage's moral strain* — 
Confront the fell pursuer — Care ! 

We arrived at the Cape of Good Hope in the begin- 
ning of November. As we entered the bay, the Table 
Mountain, with the clouds resting and rolling on its 
surface, like a table-cloth, produced an effect somewhat 
sublime We ascended it with great labour, but the 
view from these very high hills is not always so fine as 
the view of them. Cape Town is surrounded by high 
romantic hills of an arid barren appearance. The inha- 
bitants are a mixture of Dutch, English, Malays, and 
Negro slaves. The town is built in the Dutch style, and 
has some fine streets and houses, but the climate is very 
stormy, and clouds of dust continually blow. No slave 
is allowed to go out after dark without a lantern, which 
has a curious effect on the parade at eight o'clock when 
the band plays. The Malays, like the French, are par- 
ticularly neat in decorating their cliurch-yards, in which 
they have gardeners always at work, converting the 
loathsome dreary sepulchre into an inviting place of re- 
ligious instruction. I think Stoke church-yard, with its 
umbrageous yew-tree, so eulogized by Gray, is the only 
one I was ever pleased with in England. There is a 
daily market at day-break, where the country people 
bring all their produce for sale. I was amused at seeing 
the waggon-loads of tigers' and lions' skins, bitter aloes, 
walnuts, oranges, &c. The waggons are built light, and 
drawn by twelve or twenty oxen, or sometimes horses. 
The mutton has no fat but on the tail, which has some- 
times twenty-five pounds of it Constantia, ten miles 
from the town, is the grand place for beauty of scenery 
and luxuriant trees, but I had not time to visit it 

About six weeks after leaving the Cape of Good 
Hope we discovered land. As we approached the shore, 

* " And since 'tis vain to combat, learn to flv. w 



every eye was at work, and every glass in requisition, to 
examine the favourite spot of our adoption. At first its 
aspect was steep and wild, presenting little to the view 
but hills on hills, covered with trees of a dusky brown 
colour, the naked white stems of which gave them 
an uninviting appearance. But the sail up the Derwent 
to Hobart Town is very beautiful, the vessel being ge- 
nerally land-locked, and fine inlets and bays continually 
opening as the breeze impels it. Trees of different sizes,i 
of a handsome shape and deeper green, diversified the 
landscape. They stood at wide distances, and be- 
tween them the ground was often smooth, and covered 
with grass, which, though of a brownish hue, seemed to 
invite us to repose or to expatiate on its surface. The 
sea-birds played around us, and «hoals of porpoises tum- 
bled past the ship. Little farms, and small patches of 
cultivation, were discovered here and there, with the 
stumps of trees appearing among the corn. It is im- 
possible to describe to you the, pleasure whic'j filled my 
heart, as my eye, wearied with the sea and sky of so long * 
a voyage, roamed along these banks. The heat of my - 
imagination overlooked the first fatigues of 'settling, and r 
created for itself, in the bosom of one of those beautiful 
bays, a tasteful cottage, garden, a* id farm, the sudden 
gift of happy industry. My spirits were exhilarated. I 
trod the deck, as the ship glided up the river, with a live- 
lier, lighter step; and 1 chalked out the future without 
any blot or blemish. I did not allow myself to reflect " 
on the time and labour which must intervene before my 
prospects of rural happiness could be realized. I did 
not calculate that some years must elapse before the 
ground could contribute much to the support of my fa- 
mily, and that it must be maintained in the mean time at 
a very heavy expense. I have since, however, found it 
out, and will tell you all as I proceed. 

With joy we set our. foot on shore; and as I walked 
along the wharf, which led us up to the town, I examined 
the ground with eagerness, thinking to find a marked 
distinction in even the earth of so newly discovered, and 
so distant a world. But the general appearance of nature 
is everywhere the same; and though I have not found 
one indigenous vegetable or animal of a similar species 
to those in England, yet there is sufficient to remind me 
that I am an inhabitant of the same ball of earth. Ho- 
bart Town is situated in a nook of the Derwent, at the 
foot of a Table Mountain, which is three quarters of 
a mile high. A rivulet flows from it, and waters 
the town, turning several flour-mills in its passage. 
The land in the immediate vicinity is therefore steep and 
barren, and admits of no farming operations. At two 
or three miles off, however, there are some beautiful 
villas and farms, and New Town has already much 
the appearance of an English parish. Hobart Town 
is scattered over a large surface, each building having 
originally a quarter of an acre attached to it There 
were many decent houses erected, and I was astonished 
that so much had been done in so short a time. The 
streets, though lined out, are scarcely formed in many 
parts; and the roots of trees, which everywhere appear in 
them, show their recent formation. With much difficulty 
we hired a cottage. It was covered with shingles or 
pieces of wood, split in the form of slates, and was but 
an imperfect defence against the keen air at day-break, 
which, though in summer, sometimes roused us shiver- 
ing from our beds. Provisions, and every kind of la- 
bour, were very expensive; and as. I was therefore desi- 
rous to get my family into the country as quickly as 
possible, I lost no time in waiting on the Lieutenant- 
Governor, who received me very courteously, and I 
found my letters of introduction of the greatest service. 
The Governor is a man of polite easy manners, and has 
a strong claim to be considered a scholar; his conver- 
sation discovers at once how much he has the good of 
the colony at heart. Indeed its prosperity seems to be 



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his constant and only sU dy. The usual way is to give 
in a list of the property you have lo embark on the land, 
when an order is immediately sent to tie surveyor to 
measure the quantity to which it entitles you, as soon as 
you have chosen the spot. 

Four of us set off together attended by a guide to look 
for land. There is but one road from Hobart Town, on 
which there is considerable traffic for a few miles. In the 
vicinity of the town the trees are nearly all cut down and 
consumed for fire-wood. As we proceeded, however, the 
landscape, became more wooded, and hills on hills arose 
constantly to our view. The prevailing tree is a species of 
the Eucalyptus, which the prisoners have called the 
white gum, from the dead appearance of its bark. It is 
not a picturesque feature, owing to its total want of under 
branches, the foliage being entirely confined to the top, 
and its denuded trunk and limbs exhibiting a blasted 
and melancholy aspect. \n some parts, however, the 
view is much more warm and pleasing, where another 
species of the same genus abounds, called the blue or 
black gum tree, which very much resembles the Eng- 
lish elm, excepting that its leaves are less verdant, and, 
like alt the trees in the island, evergreen. When the 
eye, therefore, ranges over the tops of th* trees, the view 
is rich and pleasing, so far as fine woods, and sloping 
hills, destitute of buildings and cultivation, can make 
it The natives have a custom of burning the land in 
the dry season, in order to hunt the kangaroos, opos- 
sums, and other animals on which they subsist. This 
practice has had trie effect of thinning the woods, and 
totally eradicating the underwood; but while it deprives 
the trees of those fine hanging spreading branches, s 
beautiful in our English parks, it has yet covered tfa 
whole surface of the island with grass and pasturage 
The natives, who are truly a wandering race, have als 
the custom of stripping the bark off the largest trees a 
high as they can reach, in order to build their huh 
This of course kills the tree, which the next fire burn 
down. Their huts they also burn after a few day* 
having exhausted the game around them; they then de 
camp to a little distance, and repeat the process. Thui 
you may form an idea of the general face of the coun 
try, everywhere clothed with grass of a dry withered 
appearance, and presenting at every step trunks an< 
branches of trees, either dead and half-consumed, or, i 
still alive, robbed of their under-foliage, and partiall; 
burnt ; yet in some parts, where the valleys and plain 
are clear of wood, the landscape is very beautiful, an< 
the mind cannot for a while be reconciled to the ides 
that it has never yet been the settled abode of man 
At nine miles from Hobart Town we crossed the Dei- 
went by a ferry-boat, and took the Launceston road 
The river Jordan, a small stream, like the Brent abov 
Brentford, winds and meanders among the valleys 
watering many fine farms in its progress. Obeying, '. 
know not what impulse, I pursued my way towards the 
Clyde, distant about forty-five miles from Hobart Town, 
-—a river which, though twice the size of the Jordan, 
was hardly sufficient to satisfy my passion for water. 
I therefore pushed onward to a larger river, ten miles 
further up the country, beyond every settler, and at last 
determined to spend the remainder of my days on its 
banks. It is called the Shannon, and its banks are 
regarded as the classical ground of Van Diemen's 
Laud, having been the resort of all the noted bush- 
rangers for many years, and the scene of the death of their 
leader, Michael Howe, which occurred within a mile of 
my house. I remember when I used to look at Evans' 
Map of this island, and see the fine square measure- 
ment, I thought the land was level and fertile, but it is 
of a very different character. My land presents a very 
uneven surface, being composed throughout of hill and 
vale. The Shannon is a mountain stream, with more 
of the character of a torrent, than of a river. Where 



MAGAZINE. [a 2 

it runs placid, and " gentle, yet not dull," it is of the 
size of the Thames a little above Windsor; in other 
parts, it dashes with impetuosity over rocks, forming 
cascades and rapids of the most romantic kind. It is 
said to take its rise from a large lake in the interior of 
the island. The water is so pure that you can every- 
where see the bottom, and so soft that it may be used 
in washing without soap. I have chosen my land close 
to its banks, at the mouth of a fine valley, which slopes 
for half a mile down from the hills; the opposite banks 
are high and rocky, forming a kind of barrier. Within 
half a mile of my western boundary flows another river, 
as large as the Shannon, called the Ouse or Big River, 
so that I am seated on a peninsula, for these rivers meet 
about two or three miles below; and if the hypothesis 
be correct, which derives both rivers from the same great 
lake, I am situated on an internal island, about thirty 
miles long, and from two to five broad. 

As soon as the hurry and bustle of settling are abated 
I propose an exploratory expedition, making a circuit of 
this island. I have already been twenty miles up, on a 
small three-day tour, with Mr. Scott, the surveyor, and 
we then found ourselves on the highest land of the whole 
island. As it may amuse you, 1 will briefly relate the 
particulars of our journey. Mr. Scott "was furnished 
with a Scotch cloak bundled on his back, and I with a 
rug or blanket, formed of about twenty or thirty kan- 
garoo skins, sewed neatly together with the dried sinews 
of the tail. You must here allow me to introduce, by 
way of episode, a short description of this inter <ting ani- 

mA.1_- the IrnncrfLmn. 



/ 



1 have a tame one now before me, lapping tea out 
of a saucer and picking a bone like a monkey. They 
arc nbout the size of a large sheep; their head and 
fore-quarters small; their ears in constant motion, like 
those of a hare or .rabbit; the fore-legs are short; t lie 
paws furnished with five fingers, and used as hands, 
for they are never employed in walking. The hind- foot 
terminates in one large hoof. By means of the hiiid-Ii*irs, 
which are as long as the body, assisted by the tail, they 
proceed by leaps, so fast as frequently to outstrip t 
hounds. Thus, except when grazing, they are alway 
upright, and, as a country convict, whom I have in t)i 
house j says, "they stand up like a mon." There i 
something so agile and buoyant in this animal's moth; 
of leaping and standiug, that it is in my opinion a very 
handsome creature. The flesh is not fat, but very sa- 
voury, and easily digested. They are very numerous 
in the country, and their paths and trails are of great 
assistance in travelling through the woods. The female. 



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in common with the other quadrupeds of this region, has 
a pouch in which she carries the young, and within which 
the urlder and teats are. I am now busy in fencing 
a lawn of about two acres before my door, in which I 
propose keeping several of these interesting creatures. 
[To Ig concluded in our next.] 

THE WEEK. 

May 8.— The birth-day of Dr. Beilbt Porteus/ Bishop 
of London. This learned and pious prelate was born in 
the city of York, in 1731. He entered the university 
of Cambridge as one of the humblest order of students, 
or what is there called a sizer. His industry and talents, 
however, soon brought him distinction; and especially 
after the production of his English poem on ' Death/ 
which gained the Seatonian prize in 1759, he took 
his place in public estimation as one of the chief orna- 
ments of the university. Having thus honourably made 
his way by his own merits to one of the fellowships 
in his college, he soon after obtained the patronage 
of Archbishop Seeker, who in the first instance made 
him his chaplain, and eventually conferred upon him, 
among other appointments, the rectory of Lambeth and 
a prebend in the cathedraUof Peterborough. Ih 1776 
he was promoted to the bishopric of Chester, and*, in 
1 787 was translated to that of London, which he held 
till his death in 1808. The printed works of Bishop 
Porteus, besides his poem already mentioned, consist 
chiefly of Sermons, Charges, and other compositions on 
theological subjects. 

May 9. — The birth-day of the celebrated modern mu- 
* skian Giovanni Paesiello, who was born at Tarento, 
in Italy, in the year 1740. Paesiello, who passed 1 his 
life principally in his native country, with the exception 
of a residence of nine years in Russia, in the service of 
Catherine II., and another period of three years which 
he spent in Paris, and who died at Naples in 1816, was 
a composer of great elegance and sweetness, and his 
works have attained extensive popularity. He is the 
author of above seventy operas, besides a very great 
number of shorter pieces. 

SUPERSTITION OF GREEK SAILORS IN THE 

BLACK SEA. 
My. old friend Mr. Z— , some twenty years ago, took 
a passage from Odessa to Constantinople on board a 
Greek brig. It was winter. They had not been long 
at sea when a favourable wind sprung up, but it was 
£m unfortunately extremely violent, and accompanied by 
ft those thick fogs which prevail in the Black Sea during 
the bad season. The vessel flew on, but not a yard 
before them could they see clearly. They were at length, 
according to the Captain's calculation^ near the dangerous 
Boghaz, or mouth of the narrow channel of the Bos- 
phorus (not twenty miles from Constantinople), but how 
to hit that narrow opening was the difficulty ! Every 
minute might throw them on a rocky shore. Whether 
they were on the Asiatic or Eunpsftu* coast they knew 
not. The dense vapours, worse than a fog in the British 
channel, hung over them and around them — they could 
see nothing! Their situation would have been critical 
even to the most scientific seamen; but it was not by 
science and skill, but by the following charm that they 
attempted to extricate themselves. 

They lighted additional lamps before the picture of 
their patron, Saint Nicholas, which occupied the post of 
honour in the cabin ; they next produced two famous 
wax candles that had been duly blessed and sanctified in 
their church at home; and here arose a long and noisy 
dispute, animated with oaths and curses, about which of 
the two candles should be employed; the one conse- 
crated at Christmas, the period of our Saviour's birth, 
or that consecrated at Easter, the period of his suffering 
and resurrection. At last it was settled by a majority of 



votes, that the Easter light should be lighted. This being 
done, the candle was placed »n the lower part of a large 
hollowed pumpkin ; a few holes were then made in the 
upper part of the pumpkin, which was put on and 
fastened to the lower part, enclosing the candle as in a 

lantern. For my sensible old friend Z to laugh at 

this clumsy incantation would have been dangerous at 

such a momei 

superstition th 

Sea as an unb 

this pumpkin 

which it woulc 

in it only conti 

advantage of 1 

that the candh 

modestly prop 

of the pumpki 

as being of an 

taken in goo- 

The lantern, f 

was carefully 1 

which it had e 

dismay followe 

to be done noi 

they were just 

enough, a sud 

dark sea, and 

the Cape of 1 

their way into 

to their own ex 

their essay as 

maintained to 

— that it and 

gloom, and tht 

Easter candle ! 

ANCIENT USE OF TORTURE. 

TpE frequent interference of the prerogative of the 
Crown with the undoubted principles of the common 
law, especially in state prosecutions, is a remarkable 
feature in the history of the administration of justice in 
this country in ancient times. This may be well illus- 
trated by the instance of Torture. The practice of ob- 
taining confessions or evidence by means of torture — a 
practice as absurd as it is cruel and unjust — has been 
always considered by writers on jurisprudence, both 
ancient a:ul modern, as totally repugnant to the funda- 
mental laws of England. Fortescue, who wrote his 
book on the laws of England so early as the reign of 
Henry VI., mentions the absence of torture as one of 
the advantages of the English law over the civil law, 
and the laws of most other nations. Lord Coke refers 
to this passage of Fortescue, and declares that the 
infliction of torture is against. Magna Charta, and the 
principles of the 'constitution; and Kays, that "there is 
no one opinion in our books or judicial records lor the 
maintenance of it." Sir Thomas Smith, who was a 
philosopher and a man of literature, as well as a states- 
man and lawyer, in his book on the English Govern- 
ment, writteu in the early part of Queen Elizabeth',* 
reign, says, " It is against the law of England to torture, 
for the purpose of eliciting a confession of guilt ; the 
practice savours too much of slavery for a free people. 
It is natural to an Englishman to despise death, but 
he cannot endure torture; hence the lightest kind of 
torture is more abhorrent to our people thau death itself, 
for in no country do malefactors go to execution more 
intrepidly than in England." It is quite clear, uim>ii 
these and many other authorities which might be men- 
tioned, that by law the application of torture was uni- 
versally admitted to be unjustifiable; but what has been 
the practice? There is no period of the history of 
England anterior to the commonwealth (before 1648), 
in which torture has not been used as a matter of course 



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in all state prosecutions, at the mere discretion of the 
Privy Council, and uncontrolled by any law besides the 
will of the Sovereign. With the strong language of 
the authorities above cited in his nuwjt the reader may 
possibly be startled at this assertion ; it will, therefore, 
be proper to adduce some evidence to prove its truth. 

In 1468, not many years after Fortescue wrote, Sir 
Thomas Coke, Lord-Mayor of London, was tried for 
high treason, and found guilty of misprision of treason, 
upon the single testimony of one Hawkins, given under 
torture. Hawkins himself was convicted of treason 
upa-n his own confession on the rack, and executed. In 
1571, the Duke of Norfolk was found guilty of high 
treason, chiefly upon the evidence of his servants, who 
were examined under torture. There were many other 
instances of torture in the reign of Elizabeth, sometimes 
applied on very slight occasions. Lord Bacon relates 
of her, that once, when she could not be persuaded that 
a book, containing treasonable matter, was really written 
by the person whose name it bore, she said, with great 
indignation, that " she would have him racked, to produce 
his author." Bacon replied, " Nay, madam, he is a 
doctor, never rack his person, rack his style; let him 
have pen, ink, and paper, and help of books, and be 
enjoined to continue his story, and I will undertake, bj 
collating his style, to judge whether he were the author." 

In the reign of James I. the practice was still con- 
tinued. Two warrants from the Privy Council, dated 
the 19th and 20th April, 1*603, before the King's 
arrival in London, for applying the torture to one 
Philip May, are to be found in the State-Paper Office; 
one of which is directed to the Lord Chief Justice 
(Popham), the Attorney-General (Coke), and the 
Solicitor-General (Fleming); and is signed by several 
members of the Privy Council, and amongst others, by 
Lord-Chancellor Ellesmere, and the Archbishop of 
Canterbury. It is not certain that Guy Fawkes was 
actually placed upon the rack, though it is very probable 
that he was; for the King's warrant for the torture* is 
still preserved, which concludes in these remarkable 
words : " using the gentler torture first, et sic per 
gradus ad ima tenditur, (and thus by degrees we may 
proceed to extremities,) and so God speed you in your 
good work." The original depositions of Fawkes at the 
State-Paper Office furnish a very strong argument that 
he actually suffered the torture. The signature " Guido 
Fawkes" to the earlier depositions, in which he con- 
fesses nothing material, is written boldly and firmly; 
but the name subscribed to the last and fullest state- 
ment, in which he declares his accomplices, is written 
in so faint and trembling a hand as scarcely to be 
legible. On inspecting the signature, the impression 
is almost irresistible that it was made by a man in great 
bod ; Jy agony. 



£\)+\Al 



In F514, Peachum, who was accused of high tre .son 
for certain passages in a sermou written by him, and 
found in his study, but never preached t>r published, 
was examined upon interrogatories "before torture, in 
torture, between torture, and after torture.'' There is 
a warrant from the Privy Council in 1620, still extant, 
by which Sir Allen Apsley, the Lieutenant of the 
Tower, Sir Henry Mountague, Lord Chief Justice of 
the King's Bench, and Sir Thomas Coventry, the 
King's Solicitor- General, are authorized to examine one 
Peacock, and to put him to the torture " either of the 
manacles or the rack." This warrant is signed both by 
Lord-Chancellor Bacon and Sir Edward Coke. 

So soon after this transaction as the year 1628, the 
Judges delivered a unanimous opinion against the 



"legality of torture, in the case of Felton, who ha^ 
stabbed the Duke of Buckingham. The following are 
related as the circumstances under which this opinion 
was given : — " Afterwards Felton was called before the 
Council, where he confessed much concerning his induce- 
ment to the murder. The Council much pressed him to 
confess who set him on to do sucM a bloody act, and if 
the Puritans had no hand therein. He denied they had, 
and so he did to the last, that no person whatsoever 
knew anything of his intention or purpose to kill the 
Duke; that he revealed it to none living. Doctor 
Laud, Bishop of London, being then at the Council 
table, told him, if he would not giftfess he must go to 
the rack. Felton replied, ' If H must be so, he could 
not tell whom he might nominate in the extremity of 
torture; and if what he should say then must go for 
truth, he could not tell whether his Lordship (meaning 
the Bishop of London), or which of their Lordships he 
might name, for torture might draw unexpected things 
from him.' After this he was asked no more questions, 
but sent back to prison. " 

the formal opinion of the Judges, 
n, there is no doubt that the practice 
the whole reign of Charles I. as a 
ig the torture to one Archer, in 1640, 
is to De seen at the State-Paper Office., This, how- 
ever, appears td' have been the last occasion on which 
this odious practice was resorted to. There is no trace 
of it during the Commonwealth; and in the reign of 
Charles II., where we might have expected to find it, 
there is not a single well-authenticated instance of the 
application of the torture. 

The following account of the kinds of torture chiefly 
employed in the Tower is taken from a note to the 
eighth volume of Dr. Lingard's History. 

1st. The rack was a large open frame of oak, raised 
three feet from the ground. The prisoner was laid un- 
der it on his back on the floor ; his wrists and ankles 
were attached by cords to two collars at the ends of 
the frame ; these were moved by levers in opposite di- 
rections, till the body rose to a level with the frame. 
Questions were theu put, and, if the answers did not 
prove satisfactory, the sufferer was stretched more and 
more till the bones started from their sockets. 

2d. The scavenger's daughter was a broad hoop of 
iron, so called, consisting of two parts, fastened to each 
other by a hinge. The prisoner was made to kneel on 
the pavement, and to contract himself into as small a 
compass as he could. Then the executioner, kneeling 
on his shoulders, and having introduced the hoop under 
his legs, compressed the victim close together, till he . 
was able to fasten the extremities over the small of the 
back. . The time allotted to this kind of torture was an 
hour and a half, during which time it commonly hap- 
pened that from excess of compression the blood started 
from the nostrils ; sometimes, it was believed, from the 
extremities of the hands and feet. 

3d. Iron gaitntlets, which could be contracted by the 
aid of a screw. These were also called manacles. 
They served to compress the wrists, and to suspend the 
Drisoner in the air, from two distant points of a beam. 
He was placed on three pieces of wood piled one on the 
other, which, when his hands had been made fast, were 
successively withdrawn from under his feet. " I felt/' 
said F. Gerard, one of the sufferers, " the chief pain in 
my breast, belly, arms, and hands. I thought that all 
the blood in my body had run into my arms, and began 
to burst out of my finger ends. This was a mistake; 
but the arms swelled, till the gauntlets were buried within 
the flesh. After being thus suspended an hour, I faint- 
ed, and when I came to myself, 1 found the executioners 
supporting me in their arms ; they replaced the pieces 
of wood under my feet ; but as soon as I was recovered, 
removed them again. Thus I continued banging m 



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the space of five hours, during which I fainted eight or 
nine times." 

4 th. A fourth kind of torture was a cell called " little 
ease." It was of so small dimensions, and so constructed, 
that the prisoner could neither stand, walk, sit, nor lie in it 
at full length. He was compelled to draw himself up in 
a squatting posture, and so remain during several days. 

It would lead us into too wide a field to point out 
»the various considerations which suggest themselves 
upon a review of this subject The facts above col- 
lected are, however, well worthy the attention of the 
student of our constitutional history ; for the long con- 
tinuance, under the authority of the royal prerogative 
alone, of a practice directly opposed to the fundamental 
principles of reason, justice, and law, condemned and 
denounced by the opinions of the wisest lawyers and 
statesmen, at the very time that they were compelled 
to act upon it, furnishes a very remarkable instance of 
the existence, in former times, of a power above the law, 
controlling and subverting the law, and rendering its 
practical application altogether inconsistent with its theo- 
retical excellence. 

%* The above interesting account is abridged from a volume just 
published hi the Library of. Entertaining iLnowiedge, ' Criminal 
Trials.' ^ 

TO THE CUCKOO. - 
O blithe new-comer ! I have hearay 

I hear thee, and rejoice. 
O Cuckoo ! shall I call thee bird, 

Or but a wandering voice ? 
While I am lying on the grass 

Thy twofold shout I hear, 
That seems to fill the whole air's space, * 

As loud far off as near. 
Though babbling only to the vale, 

Of sunshine and of flowers, 
Thou bringest unto me a tale 

Of visionary hours. 
Thrice welcome, darling of the spring I '- 

Even yet thou art to me 
No bird ; but an invisible thing, 

A voice, a mystery. 
The same whom in my schoolboy days 

I listened to ; that cry 
Which made me look a thousand ways, 

In bush, and tree, and sky. 
To seek thee did I often rove 

Through woods and on the green ; 
And thou wert still a hope, a love ; 

Still longed for, never seen. 
And I can listen to thee yet, 

Can lie upon the plain, 
And listen till I do beget 

That golden time again. - Wordsworth. 



GARDENS. 

In the Great Marylebone Workhouse, which has a front 
that, for length, and the size and number of the windows, 
might be compared to a Russian palace, there are con- 
stantly from eighty to one hundred and twenty very 
old men and women, who are led or carried out, one 
by one, every morning, and set down on a bench un- 
der a shed, or, when the weather is fine, in the sun, 
where they remain almost in a state of torpor, being 
unable to help themselves and having no one to at- 
tend to them, till they are led or carried,' one by one, 
back again, at 'the time appointed for their next meal. 
What a picture of human desolation ! If, instead of 
being placed upon benches, with nothing to gaze at but 
a brick wall, these persons were led into a garden, where 
they could see numbers of their fellow-inmates at work, 
breathe the fresh air, see and smell the flowers, and hear 
the birds and other rural sounds, their miserable lot 
would have some little alleviation. A number of them 
could perhaps assist in some of the lighter garden opera- 
tions ; the most infirm could scare away the birds, or 
prepare gooseberries and vegetables for the kitchen. 
This might enable them to measure their time as it goes, 



and would afford some kind of amusement to divert their 
minds from incessantly dwelling' on their own forlorn 
and hopeless condition. Is it too much to say that 
something would be gained for the happiness of the 
human kind, if all men were agreed that, wherever there 
was a habitation, whether for an individual family, or for 
a number of persons, strangers to each other, such as 
hospitals, workhouses, prisons, asylums, infirmaries, and 
even barracks, there should be a garden? In our 
opinion, a dwelling without a garden ought not to exist. 
— Loudon* s Gardeners Magazine, February. 



THE CRAFTS OF GERMANY. 

Tub different crafts in Germany are incorporations recognised by law, 
governed by usages of great antiquity, with a fund to defray the cor- 
porate expenses, and, in each considerable town, a house of entertain- 
ment is selected as the house of call, or harbor, as it is styled, of each 
particular craft. Thus you see, in the German towns, a number of 
taverns indicated by their signs, as the Masons' Harbor, the Black- 
smiths' Harbor, &c. No one is allowed to set up as a master work- 
man in any trade, unless he is admitted as a freeman or member of 
the craft ; and such is the stationary condition of most parts of Ger- 
many, that no person is admitted as a master workman in any trade, 
except to supply the place of some one deceased, or retired from 
business. When such a vacancy occurs, all those desirous of being 
permitted to fill it present a piece of work, executed as well as they 
are able to do it, which is called their master-piece, being offered to 
obtain the place of a master workman. Nominally, the nest work- 
man gets the place ; but you will easily conceive, that, in reality, 
some xind of favouritism must generally decide it. Thus is eveiy 
man obliged to submit to all the chances of a popular election whether 
he shall be allowed to work for bis bread ; and that, too, in a country 
where the people are not permitted to have any agency in choosing 
their rulers. But the restraints on journeymen, in that country, are still 
more oppressive. As soon as the years of apprenticeship have expired, 
the young mechanic is obliged, in the phrase of the country, to wander 
for three years. For this purpose he is furnished, by the master of the 
craft in which he has served his apprenticeship, with a duly-authen- 
ticated wandering book, with which he goes forth to seek employment. 
In whatever city he arrives, on presenting himself with his credential, 
at the house of call, or harbor, of the craft in which he has served his 
time, he is allowed, gratis, a day's food and a night's lodging. If he 
wishes to get employment in that place, he is assisted in procuring it. 
If he does not wish to, or fails in the attempt, he must pursue his 
wandering; and this lasts for three years before he can be any where 
admitted as a master. I have heard it argued, that this system had 
the advantage of circulating knowledge from place to place, and im 
parting to the young artisan the fruits of travel and intercourse with 
the world. But, however beneficial travelling may be, when under 
taken by those who have the taste and capacity to profit by it, I can 



not but' think, that to compel every young man who has just served 
out his time to leave his home, in the manner I have described, mutt 
bring his habits and morals into peril, and be regarded rather as a 
hardship than as an' advantage. There is no sanctuary of virtue 
like home.— From Everett's Address. 



YOUTH AND AGE. 

With cheerful step the traveller 

Pursues his early way, 
When first the dimly-dawning east 

Reveals the rising day. 

He bounds along his craggy road, 
He hastens up the height, 

And all he sees and all he hears 
Administer delight. 

And if the mist, retiring slow, 
Roll round its wavy white, 

He thinks the morning vapours hide 
Some beauty from his sight. 

But when behind the western clouds 

Departs the fading day, 
How wearily the traveller 

Pursues his evening way I 

Sorely along the craggy road 
His painful footsteps creep } 

And slow, with many a feeble pause, 
He labours ud the steei). 



Soi'TVKX. 



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IMPROVEMENTS IN MEDICINE AND SURGERY. 
[Extracted from the last number of the Westminster Review.] 

It is a fact capable of demonstration, that since the 
healing art reached that point of cultivation which en- 
titled it to the name of science, disease has been gra- 
dually decreasing both in frequency and fatality. And 
it is equally capable of proof, that the degree of perfec- 
tion with which anatomy has been studied at any suc- 
cessive periods, may be safely taken as the rule by 
which the progress of all the other branches of the 
science may be ascertained. And on what else should 
it depend ; — how much does u watch-njaker know about 
a watch by counting its beats, and looking at the out- 
side ? As anatomy has been encouraged, so has medi- 
cine progressed. Wherever dissection was forbidden, 
surgery declined ; and, even in the present day, those 
schools of medicine in which dissection is most liberally 
practised, send out into society surgeons and physi- 
cians who seldom fail to prove in after-life the accu- 
racy of Baillie's assertion, that c< the dead body is that 
great basis on which we are to build the knowledge 
that is to guide us in distributing life and health to our 
fellow-creatures." Sir William Petty (who died about 
150 years since) states, that the proportion of deaths 
to cures in St Bartholomew's and St. Thomas's Hos- 
pitals, was in his time one to seven ; while we know by 
subsequent documents, that in St. Thomas's Hospital, 
during 1741, the mortality had diminished to one in 
ten ; during 1780, to one in fourteen ; during 1813, to 
one in sixteen ; and that, during 1827, out of 12,494 
patients treated, 259 only were buried, or one in forty- 
eight As his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex has 
justly said — " Indeed, such is the advantage which has 
been already derived from the improvement of medical 
science in this line of study, that comparing the value 
of life-as it is now calculated to what it was a hundred 
years ago, it has absolutely doubled. The most fatally 
malignant diseases have become comparatively mild iu 
the hands of modern physicians. The entire half of 
oui population were at one time destroyed by one dis- 
ease alone — small-pox ; the mortality of which at the 
present time is but fractional. Typhus fever was once 
accustomed to visit this country in annual epidemics, 
and to slay one out of every three whom it attacked ; 
whereas in the present day it is seldom seen as an epi- 
demic, and its average mortality does not amount to 
one in sixteen. Measles, scarlet fever, hooping-cough, 
and consumption, are no longer regarded with the ex- 
treme terror in which they were once viewed. From 
1799 to 1808 the mortality of consumption amounted to 
about twenty-seven per cent of those who became ill ; 
from 1808 to 1813 it diminished to twenty-Chree ; and 
from 1813 to 1822 it still further decreased to twenty-two 
per cent." * * * * As anatomy was more attended 
to, surgery proportionally advanced, until in the days of 
Harvey (who discovered the circulation of the blood about 
the year 1610), bold and important operations were at- 
tempted. The extreme clumsiness and cruelty with which 
they were even then performed, could scarcely be cre- 
dited, had we not in our possession some descriptions of 
them by those who operated. Thus, Fabricius of Aqua- 
pendente, preceptor o f the immortal Harvey, describes 
what he considered an improved and easy operation in 
the following terms :— •' If it be a movable tumour, I cut 
it away with a red-hot knife, that sears as it cuts ; but if 
it be adherent to the chest, I cut it without bleeding or 
pain, with a wooden or horn knife soaked in aqua-fortis, 
with which having cut the skin I dig out the rest with my 
fingers." It is little more than fifty years ago when Mr. 
Sharpe, one of the most eminent surgeons of London at 
that time, denied the possibility of the thigh-bone being 
dislocated at the hip joint, an accident which occurs daily, 
and which the merest bone-setter in the kingdom can 
now detect. But it were a task equally difficult and un- 



necessary to enumerate one-tenth of the achievements of 
modern surgery ; and it were superfluous to add that it 
is to anatomy, and to anatomy alone, that all improve- 
ments in this department can be traced. 



SINGING OF BIRDS. 

From the Journal of a Naturalist. 
The singing of most birds seems entirely a spontaneous effusion, pro- 
duced by no exertion, or occasioning no lassitude in muscle, or relax 
ation of the parts of action. In certain seasons and weather, the 
nightingale sings all day. and most part of the night; and we never 
observe that the powers of song are weaker, or that the notes become 
harsh and untunable, after all these hours of practice. The song, 
thrush, in a mild, moist April, will commence his tune early in the 
morning, pipe unceasingly through the day, yet, at the close of eve, 
when he retires to rest, there is no obvious decay of his musical 
powers, or any sensible effort required to continue his harmony to the 
last. Birds of one species sing in general very like each other, with 
different degrees of execution. Some counties may produce finer 
songsters, but without great variation in the notes. In the thrush, 
however, it is remarkable that there seems to be no regular notes, each 
individual piping a voluntary of his own* Their voices may always 
be distinguished amid the choristerar of the copse, yet some one per- 
former will more particularly engage attention by a peculiar modula- 
tion or tune ; and should several stations of these birds be visited the 
same morning, few or none probably will be found to persevere in 
the aune round of notes ; whatever is uttered seeming the effusion of 
the mronent. At times a strain will break out perfectly unlike any 
preceding utterance, and we may wait a long time without noticing 
any repetition of it. Harsh, strained, and tense, as the notes of this 
bird are, yet theyAtoe pleasing from their variety. The voice of the 
blackbird is infinitely more mellow, but has much less variety, com- 
pass, or execution ; and he too commences his carols with the morn- 
ing li^ht, persevering from hour to hour without effort, or any sensible 
faltering of voice. — The cuckoo wearies us throughout some long 
May morning with the unceasing monotony of its song ; and, though 
there are otlyrs as vociferous, yet it is the only bird I know that seems 
to suffer from the use of the organs of voice. Little exertion as the 
few notes it makes use of seem to require, yet, by the middle or end 
of June, it loses its utterance, becomes hoarse, and ceases from any 
further essay. 

Robespierre. — The following is a brief and striking sketch of the 
man who attained so sanguinary a celebrity, and reigned absolute 
Sultan of the " Reign of Terror:"— • 

" I had two private conversations with Robespierre," savs Diftnont , 
" he had a sinister aspect ; he never looked one in the face ; he 
had a twinkling, winking motion in his eyes, which was continual 
and painful. Once I saw him on some business relating to Geneva ; 
he asked some explanations from me, and I pressed him to speak : 
he told me that he was as timid as a child, that he always trembled 
when he rose to speak in public, and from the moment he so began 
speaking, he coidd not hear his own voice !" 

Curious proof of NKrabeau's popularity. — " Your horses are very 
bad," said one to a post-boy, between Calais and Amiens. " Yes," 
replied he, " my two wheelers are bad, but my Mirabeau is excel* 
lent !" The third horse, in the middle, was then commonly called the 
Mirabeau, as he did the most of the work, and provided the Mirabeau 
was good, they did not care for the rest.— Dumonfs Recollections M a ' 
Mirabeau. " 






Mr. LocUe was asked how he had contrived to accural 
a mine of knowledge so rich, yet so extensive and deep. He 
replied, that he attributed what little he knew to the not 
having been ashamed to ask for information ; and to the 
rule he had laid down, of conversing with all descriptions 
of men, on those topics chiefly that formed their own pecu- 
liar professions or pursuits. 



The Kham of Tartary, who does not possess a single 
house under the canopy of heaven, has no sooner finishe^d 
his repast of mare's milk and horse-flesh, than he causae 
herald to proclaim from his seat that all the princes i 
potentates of the earth have his permission to go to dinner. 



LONDON : CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the follow tmg 



London, Groombmdo*, Ptnyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Wbstmct and Co. 
Hully Steph zneoir. 
I,eed$, Bainkk and Co. 
Liverpool, Willmeb and^MtTH. 



Manchester, Ronnvsov ; and Wn 

Sim Mg. 
Newcastle-npon-Tyne, Chakicxb 
Nottingham, Wbiokt. 
Dublin* Wakkman. 
Edinburgh, Oltvxb and Born. 
Glasgow, Aiotkbon and Co. 



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[May 12, 1832. 



THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. PAULS. 



The elevated situation of the spot on which St. Paul's 
is built, seems to have pointed it out from very ancient 
times for religious or other public purposes. Without 
adopting the very doubtful opinion of some antiqua- 
ries, that the Romans during their occupation of the 
island had erected a temple to Diana upon this emi- 
nence — an opinion which has not even the support of 
tradition, and which Sir Christopher Wren, wjien he 
dug the foundations of the present church, became con- 
vinced had no other support — it seems to be clear that 
these foreigners used it for a cemetery or burial place, 
if not for anything more sacred. *On the erection of 
the present building many Roman funeral vases, lacry- 
matories, and other articles used in sepulture, were 
found at a considerable depth under the surface. Next 
to these lay in rows skeletons of the ancient Britons; 
and immediately above them, Saxons in stone coffins, 
' or in graves lined with chalk, together with pins of ivory 
and box wood which had fastened their grave clothes. 
The earliest building which is actually recorded to have 
j^kpod on this site was a Christian church, built about 
(■^vear 610, by Ethelbert, King of Kent, the first of 
^MpSaxon princes who was converted by St. Augustine. 
It was dedicated to St. Paul, and the old historians tell 
us was indebted for the latest improvements which it 
received to the liberality of St Erkenwald, the bishop 
of the diocese, who died in 681. However, it could 
scarcely have been a very magnificent or extensive edi- 
fice, if it be true, as is related, that upon its being acci- 
dentally burned down in 961, it was rebuilt the same 
year. After this it was again destroyed by fire in the 
year 1087 ; when the Norman bishop, Maurice, who 
had just been appointed to the see, resolved to under- 
take its restoration, oh a much larger and more splen- 
did scale, at his own expense. Both he and his suc- 
cessor De Belmeis, each of whom presided twenty years 
over the diocese, are said to have devoted all their re- 
venues to this great work ; but it was not finished till 
the time of Bishop Niger, the fourth after De Belmeis, 
in the year 1240. In 1135, indeed, the uncompleted 
building had again caught fire, and been nearly burned 
to the ground. When the fabric, which might thus be 
called ancient, even while it was yet new, at last stood 
ready for consecration, it exhibited a mass 690 feet in 
length by 130 in breadth, surmounted by a spire 520 
Vol. I. 



feet in height. Some additions, which were made to it 
after this, were not completed till 1315, in the reign of 
Edward II., the ninth king after him in whose reign 
the first 6tone of the pile had been laid. 

This was the building we now call old St. Paul's, the 
immediate. predecessor of the present cathedral. It was 
one of the largest edifices in the world, and in its best 
days, before it was deformed by the successive repairs 
to which it was subjected, and the various foreign in- 
cumbrances under which it was loqg buried, it was no. 
doubt a grand and imposing structure. But, from the 
causes we have mentioned, its form in the course of 
time underwent so many changes that at last it pre-^ 
sen ted the appearance of little else than a heap of in- 
congruity and confusion. * The spire was of timber; 
but in 1315 it was found to be so much decayed that 
the upper part of it had to be taken down and replaced. 
It was upon this occasion that a ball, surmounted by a 
cross, was first fixed upon the termination of the spire. 

The first accident which befel the church was tiie 
consequence of a violent tempest of thunder and wind 
which burst over the metropolis on the 1st of February, 
1444. The lightning having struck the spire set it on 
fire; and although a priest succeeded in extinguishing 
the flames, a good deal of damage was done, so that it 
was not till the year 1462 that the gilded ball with the 
cross again made its appearance on the summit- of the 
building. A much more serious disaster than this 
however, happened about a century afterwards. On the 
4th of June, 1561, a plumber who was employed in 
making some repairs, thoughtlessly left a pan of coaU 
burning within the spire while he went to. dinner; the 
flames from which caught the adjacent wooden work, 
and in no long time set the whole building in a blaze. 
In spite of every thing that could be done, the confla- 
gration continued to rage till it had consumed every 
thing about the church that was combustible, and re- 
duced it to a mere skeleton of bare and blackened walls. 

With such ardour, however, did the Queen (Elizabeth), 
and, it may be said indeed, the whole nation, promote 
the scheme of restoring the sacred edifice, all ranks contri- 
buting to the pious and patriotic work, that in the space of 
about five years it was again opened for worship. But 
it never recovered its ancient splendour: the spire, in 
particular, was not rebuilt at all ; and 0*^m the -hort- 



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ness of the tinw jsnt in the restoration altogether, it is 
probable that otner parts of the work were hurried over 
without much attention either to strength or beauty. 
By the end of the reign of Elizabeth accordingly, the 
structure had fallen into sad decay; so that it was 
found in 1608 that it conld not be repaired under a cost 
of considerably more than twenty thousand pounds. It 
was not, however, till 1633, in the reign of Charles I„ 
that the repairs were actually begun, the interval having 
been spent in attempts to collect the necessary funds by 
subscription. Meanwhile the cathedral was every year 
becoming more ruinous. The money subscribed at last 
amounted to above a hundred thousand pounds, and 
then the celebrated Iirigo J ones having been appointed 
to superintend the work, it was, as we have said, pro- 
ceeded with. 

We shall now mention some particulars to show the 
extraordinary state of neglect and ruin into which this 
once proud edifice had been by this time allowed to fall. 
Towards the close of the sixteenth century it is stated, 
that the benches at the door of the choir were commonly 
used by beggars and drunkards for sleeping on, and 
that a large dunghill lay within one of the doors of the 
church. The place indeed was the common resort of 
idlers of all descriptions, who used to walk about in '.ie 
most irreverent manner with their hats on even dining 
the performance of divine Service. More than twenty 
private houses were built 'against the walls of the church, 
the owners of several of which had cut closets out of the 
sacred edifice, while in other instances doors had been 
made into the vaults which were converted into cellars. 
At one of the visitations the verger presented that ** the 
shrouds and cloisters under the convocation-house are 
made a common lay-stall for boards, trunks, and chests, 
being let out unto trunk-makers ; where, by means of 
their daily knocking and noise, the church is greatly 
disturbed." One house, partly formed of the church, is 
stated to have been " lately used as a play-house ;" the 
owner of another, which was built upon the foundation 
of the church, had contrived a way through a window 
into a part of the steeple, which he had turned into a 
ware-room; and a third person had excavated an oven 
in one of the buttresses, in which he baked his bread 
and pies* 

The first thing which Jones did was to clear away 
these obstructions, after which the work of restoration 
proceeded slowly but with tolerable regularity till the 
commencement of the civil wars in 1642. In 1643, not 
only all the revenues of the cathedral, but the funds which 
had been collected for repairing it, together with all the 
unused building materials, were seized by the Parlia- 
ment The scaffolding was given to the soldiers of 
Colonel Jephson's regiment for arrears of pay; on which, 
no man hindering them, they dug pits in the middle 
of the church to saw the timber in. Another part of 
the building was converted into a barrack for dragoons 
and a stable. Public worship, nevertheless, was still 
celebrated in the east end and a part of the choir, 
which was separated from the rest by a brick wall, the 
congregation entering through one of the north windows 
which was cbn verted into a door. At the west end 
Inigo Jones had erected a portico of great beauty, con- 
sisting of fourteen columns, each rising to the lofty 
height of forty-six feet, and the whole supporting, an 
entablature crowned with statues. These statues were 
thrown down and broken in pieces; and shops were 
built within the portico, in which commodities of all sorts 
were sold. The wood-cut, at the head of this article, 
represents the cathedral as it was drawn by Hollar in 
1656. 

In this state things continued till the restoration. 
Soon afler that event, the repairing of St. Paul's again 
engaged the thoughts of the king and the public; and 
subscriptions to a considerable amount having been 



once more obtained, the work was recommenced on the 
1st of August, 1663. Three years afterwards, how- 
ever, (in September, 1666,) before it bad been nearly 
completed, the great fire, which consumed half the 
metropolis, - seized in its progress westward upon th 
scaffolding by which the cathedral was surrounded, and 
afler an awful conflagration', left it a mere mass of ruins. 
History has recorded no finer instance of national spirit 
than the noble courage and alacrity with which the 
citizens of London, and the English government, 
and people generally, rose from this terrible calamity 
and applied themselves to restore all that it had de- 
stroyed. In the plans which were immediately taken 
into consideration for rebuilding the city, St. Paul's 
was not forgotten. Sir Christopher Wren, who had 
been employed in superintending the previous repairs, 
was ordered to examine and report upon the state in 
which the foundations of the building were, and so much 
of the walls as was left standing. At first "it was- 
thought that a considerable portion of the old church 
might still be found available ; but this idea was even- 
tually given up; and on the 21st of June, 1675, the 
foundation-stone of the present building was laid. 
From this time the work proceeded without interrup- 
tion till its completion in 1710. The same great archi- 
tect, Sir Christopher Wren, presided over and directed 
the work from its commencement to its close. For 
this, all that he received was X*200 a- year ; and the 
commissioners had even the spite and meanness, after 
the building was considerably advanced, to suspend the ' 
payment of one half of this pittance till the edifice shoul.1 
be finished, under the pretence of thereby better securing 
the diligence and expedition of the architect. In fact, it 
was with no small difficulty that Sir Christopher at last 
got his money at all. The whole expense of rebuilding 
the cathedral was ,£736,000, which was raised almost 
entirely by a small tax on coals. The church of St. 
Peter's at Rome, which is indeed a building of greater 
dimensions, but lo which St. Paul's ranks next even in 
that respect a mo: in* the sacred edifices of Christendom, 
took one hundre.i .i:id forty-five years to build, was the 
work of twelve successive architects, and exhausted the 
revenues of nineteen successive popes. It is worthy of 
remark, that St; Paul's was begun and completed not 
only by one architect, and one master mason, Mr. 
Thomas Strong, but also while one bishop, Dr. Henry 
Compton, presided over the diocese. 



• 



AN EMIGRANTS STRUGGLES. 
[Concluded from No. 6.] 
When we set out upon our expedition, whieh 
have just mentioned, we had two servants with us, 
and as many dogs. One man carried some biscuits; 
another a botde of rum, a piece of beef, and a little tea 
and sugar, with a couple of tea-pots. Immediately be- 
hind my house there is a fine long hill, rising, with an 
easy slope, to the height of five hundred or six hundred 
feet, and covered, like the country in general, with trees 
and grass. It has been the practice to allow proprietors of 
cattle and sheep to graze on the unlocated parts, which 
they were obliged to quit on settlers coming to occupy the 
ground. These herds were generally left in the care of 
one or two men, while the proprietor lived in Hobart 
Town; the consequence of which was, that the cattle 
were allowed to stray wherever they chose, and became 
altogether wild. This was the case where I hav 
settled; and although the herdsmen have removed 
themselves to their assigned limits, the Cattle are still 
on my ground, and have been the cause of my 
suffering one of the most serious inconveniences which 
can befal a settler. For I had scarcely arrived on 
my land when my working bullocks got into the wild 
herd, with which they continue until this day Thm 



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has completely baulked my agricultural projects, obliging 
me to perform by manual labour what the beasts of the 
field should have done for me. But I am again di- 
gressing, and tiring you with my misfortunes, instead 
of giving you an account of our journey. As we ap- 
proached the river Ouse we found its banks had been 
lately burnt by the natives, and the grass and smaller 
trees were completely consumed. After some search 
we found a place which we ventured to wade, but it 
was with great difficulty we could keep our feet. Some- 
times the dogs would kill a kangaroo, and as we had not 
time or opportunity to make use of it, the huge crows, 
which abound in the woods, soon hovered over the car*: 
case in great numbers. These crows are of the same 
genus as your English ones, but of a different species. 
They are very large, and distinguished by a white ring 
round the eye : they have even more cunning than their 
brethren of the old world. The banks on the further 
side of the Ouse are yet steeper than on this. We con- 
tinued to ascend over the burnt ground, and underneath 
huge trees, for about five miles, till we arrived at the 
stock-keeper's hut, which we discovered by the hefp of 
the track of horses. Here we found eight men, who 
"had been sent up a few days before to erect a hut and 
stackyard for the cattle. They had sheltered themselves 
by branches of trees, and burnt a large fire in front. 
They had chosen a spot beside a small spring of water, 
in the midst of a large valley, which was almost clear of 
trets. After making some kangaroo soup we again 
set out, and bending our course more to the north, so as 
to keep near the river, we arrived at sun-set on the bor- 
der of a beautiful take. It appeared about seven miles 
long, and proportionably broad, with two lefty islands 
in the midst of it. The water was very soft and clear 5 
its bed seemed to be composed of fine sand, and very 
shallow. Having formed our encampment near its 
brink, and lighted three very large fires to keep our- 
selves warm, we commenced making tea. One of the 
party fired a shot over its surface ; the discharge was 
succeeded by a long and lasting peal like thunder, 
which haoV a sublime effect. We therefore named this 
piece of water Lake Echo. We were now on very high 
ground, and seemed to overlook all the mountains 
around us. In the morning, at peep of day, we took 
leave or this enchanting scene, which we had admired 
at the two periods most favourable to the display of its 
beauty with the rising and the setting sun. The surface 
remained as even as glass, and the shadows of its banks 
flhd islands gave a soft serenity to the landscape. A 
^^K>pen valley led us down to the river, but we tra- 
VRd it with difficulty, for during the wet season 
Me water had so lodged in it that it was now full of 
holes, and we were never sure of a step. We passed 
many recent encampments of the natives, and saw their 
fires at a little distance. As we approached the river 
the dog started a large kangaroo, and hunted it down 
011 the plain. This was a seasonable supply. We im- 
mediately commenced cooking ; cutting off some steaks, 
we strung them on a stick, and set them before the 
fire ; when one side was done we turned -the other ; — this 
is what they call a sticker-up, and our manner of cooking 
them is called busk-fashion. The slang nomenclature 
which the convicts have imposed on this land is in many 
instances unpleasant and vulgar, but sometimes appro- 
priate. H aving made a comfortable meal we again crossed 
the Ouse, but with still greater difficulty than we had 
encountered the day before. The immediate space be- 
tween the rive^is here still more mountainous than be- 
hind my house, and is covered with large rugged stones, 
and fine lofty trees. We passed several encampments 
of (he natives. Pursuing our way, we soon came to the 
Shannon, which we crossed, as the eastern side afforded 
the best walking. Here we entered on an extensive plain, 
but so rough, and so obstructed with rushes, as to render 



our passage through it quite laborious, in one part we 
struck a nght, and the wind blowing with great keen- 
ness, the grass blazed up in a few minutes, the flame 
extending for nearly half a mile. Our provisions were 
now quite exhausted, and we had to recreate ourselves 
with tea, and chat beside a beautiful cascade on the 
river. In these high regions we found several maple 
trees, with sweet unctuous juice exuding from the bark. 
You can hardly form an idea of the beauty of the 
heavens, as the vault appeared to the eye, while we 
reposed on a kangaroo rug on the grass, beside a large 
fire which illumined the trees, and with a fine sweep of 
the river winding its way before us, and reflecting the 
silvery beams of the moon. Next morning, after walk- 
ing three or four miles, we killed a kangaroo, and fared 
sumptuously on a stlcker-ap. Thus refreshed, we de- 
scended towards home. We had explored in this journey 
a region which no European had ever seen before, and 
had ascended to some of the highest ground in the 
island. I should calculate my habitation to be nearly 
two thousand feet above the level of the sea, and I 
think we ascended as much more. You may suppose 
what romantic rapids and cascades occur in the course 
of a river which falls that height in the course of thirty 
miles. Just before my door I have a broad placid 
stream resembling a lake, over which I have made a 
flying bridge, by means of a rope and the elm-tree case 
of my wife's piano, which answers the purpose so well 
that I brought over seven hundred sheep belonging to 
Mrs. Smith, the other day, by twenty at a time. I am 
completely at my own command, for if a visitor comes 
he must hail on the opposite side before I slacken my 
rope, and allow him to pull the boat over. 

We have no fish in these rivers, excepting some fresh * 
water craw-fish, such as are found in the Thames, some 
eels, and a small thing not worth catching. We some- 
times, however, shoot a wild duck or a widgeon, which 
are both large and good. We have also a kind of 
pigeon, which is very fine eating, and many other smaller . 
birds, besides cockatoos innumerable, both black and 
white, and some beautiful parrots and paroquets. But 
the bird which chiefly enlivens the grove is a species of 
magpie, which sings two regular bars of music, of the 
clearest and sweetest notes you can imagine. On 
taking possession of my grant, my plan was to build a 
rough hut for my servants, which I should inhabit 
whilst a better one was erecting for myself, but t^he loss 
of my bullocks made me fain to make the best of my first 
habitation. It is entirely built of the materials on the 
ground, excepting the nails, which came from England, 
and the window-frames, which were made in Hobart 
Town. The walls are composed of logs or planks split 
out of the trees, of about a foot broad, and two or three 
inches thick. These are sunk two feet in the ground, 
and nailed to a beam at the top ; they are then plas- 
tered over with a mixture composed of sand, clay, and 
grass cut short, and the wall is complete. The roof is 
covered with shingles, which are also split out of the trees 
round the house, and have exactly the appearance of 
slates. I have not yet been able to make a floor, we 
therefore walk at present upon the bare earth. As I can- 
not afford to buy another set of bullocks (for they cost 
87/.) I must wait patiently till I recover them when the 
wild herds are got in. This of course throws me into 
great difficulties. T have, however, upwards of one 
hundred sheep, two cows, and three or four young orjes, 
a goat, and a pig, besides eight hens. These last thrive 
amazingly, chiefly owing to the number of grasshoppers 
which they eat. 

I have just heard of an opportunity to send off a 
letter, and I therefore hasten to a conclusion. It is 
strange, when I reflect upon it, that any vicissitudes of 
life should have induced me voluntarily to undergo 
separation from my friends ' t to desert their company for 



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[May 12, 



a wild and enthusiastic scheme of emigration. Much 
however as I feel the deprivation of such society, I must 
say that 1 do not yet regret my coming to this country. 
When I consider that the people around me have mostly 
been convicted of heinous offences in England, I am 
pleased at the security we enjoy. You will, I know, 
rejoice to hear that I and my family are in good health ; 
and that though so remote, I am as near to you in the 
alliance of friendship as ever. 



THE LOBSTER. 



Amongst the numerous examples given by Dr. Paley, 
of the wonderful manner in which Nature contrives to 
overcome difficulties, which would at first appear insur- 
mountable, there is perhaps none moae striking than the 
mode in which the lobster is released from his case 
when the increasing size of his body requires more 
room. In most animals the skin grows with their 
growth. In some animals, instead of a soft skin, there 
is a shell, which admits by its form of gradual enlarge- 
ment. Thus the shell of the tortoise, which consists of 
several pieces, is gradually enlarged at the joinings of 
those pieces which are called "sutures." Shells with 
two sides, like those of the muscle, grow bigger by addi- 
tion at the edge. Spiral shells, as those of the snail, 
receive this addition at their mouth. The simplicity of 
their form admits of this ; but the lobster's shell being 
applied to the limbs of his body, as well as to the body 
itself, does not admit of either of the modes of enlarge- 
ment which is observed in other sheik. It is so hard 
that it cannot expand or stretch, and it is so complicated 
in its form that it does not admit of being enlarged by 
adding to its edge. How, then, was the growth of the 
lobster to be prpvided for ? We have seen that room 
could not be made for him in his old shell : was he then 
to be annually fitted with a new one ? If so, another 
difficulty arises: how was he to get out of his present 
confinement ? How was he to open his hard coajt, or draw 
his leg* out of his boots which are become too tight for 
him ? The works of the Deity are known by expedients, 
and the provisions of his power extend to the most des- 
perate cases. The case of the lobster is thus provided 
for : At certain seasons his shell grows soft The ani- 
mal swells his body; the seams open, and the claws 
burst at the joints. When the shell is thus become 
loose upon the body, the animal makes a second effort, 
and by a trembling motion, a sort of spasm, ca^s off 
hi* case. In this state of nakedness the poor defence- 
less fish retires to a hole in the rocks. The released 
body makes a sudden growth. In about eight and forty 
hours a fresh concretion of humour takes 'ace all over 
the surface of his body ; it quickly hardens ; and thus a 
new shell is formed, fitted in every part to the increased 
size of the body and limbs of the animal. This wonder- 
ful change takes place every year. . 



MATERNAL €ARE OF THE EARWIG. 

In c Insect Transformations,' (p. 102,) it is mentioned 
that the distinguished Swedish naturalist, Baron De 
Geer, * € discovered a female earwig in the beginning of 
April under some stones, brooding over a number of 
eggs, of whose safety she appeared to be not a little 
jealous. In order to study her proceedings the better, 
he placed her in a nurse-box, filled with fresh earth, 
and scattered the eggs in at random. She was not long, 
however, in collecting them with all care into one spdt, 
carrying them one by one in her mandibles, and placing 
herself over them. She never left them for a moment, 
sitting as assiduously as a bird does while hatching. In 
about five or six weeks the grubs were hatched, and 
were then of a whitish colour." 

These observations the author of * Insect Transforma- 
tions' has just had an opportunity of verifying and ex- 
tending, and has communicated to us the following 
interesting facts : — 

44 About the end of March, I found an earwig brood- 
ing over her eggs in a small cell scooped out in a 
garden border ; and in order to observe her proceedings 
I removed the eggs into my study, placing them upon 
fresh earth under a bell glass. The careful mother soon 
scooped out a fresh cell, and collected the scattered eggs 
with great care to the little nest, placing herself over 
them, not so much, as it afterwards appeared, to keep 
them warm as to prevent too rapid evaporation of their 
moisture. When the earth began to dry up, she dug 
the cell gradually deeper, till at length she got almost out 
of view; and whenever the interior became too dry, she 
withdrew the eggs from the cell altogether, and placed 
them round the rim of the glass where some of the evapo- 
rated moisture had condensed. Upon observing this, I 
dropped some water into the abandoned cell, and the 
mother soon afterwards replaced her eggs there. When 
the water which had dropped had nearly evaporated, I 
moistened the outside of the earth opposite the bottom of 
the cell ; and the mother perceiving this, actually dug a 
gallery right through to the spot where she found the 
best supply of moisture. Having neglected to moisten 
the earth for some days, it again became dry, and there 
was none even round the rim of the glass as before. 
Under these circumstances, the mother earwig found a 
little remaining moisture quite under the clod of earth 
upon the board of the mantel-piece, and thither she forth- 
with carried her eggs. 

44 Her subsequent proceedings were not less interesting ; 
for though I carefully moistened the earth every day, sh| 
regularly changed the situation of the eggs morning 
evening, placing them in the original cell at night, 
on the board under the clod during the day ; as if 
understood the evaporation to be so great when the sun 
was up that her eggs might be left too dry before night 

-" 1 regret to add, that during my absence the glass 
had been moved, and the mother escaped, having carried 
away all her eggs but one or two, which soon shrivelled 
up and will of course prove abortive." 




THE WEEK. 
May 14. — This is the birth-day of Gabriel Daniel 
Fa hrenjieit, usually regarded as the inventor of the com- 
mon mercurial thermometer, and certainly the first per- 
son by whom the instrument was accurately constructed. 
Fahrenheit was born at Dantzic, in 1686. His business 
was that of a merchant, but he was fond of spending his 
leisure' in philosophical inquiries and experiments ; and 
at last he settled at Amsterdam, ^ind%voted himself 
almost entirely to the fabrication of the instrument which 
bears his name, and which still continues to be the ther- 
mometer principally used in Britain, NQrth America, and 
Holland. He is supposed to have begun to make these 
thermometers about the year 1720, untl^ he died iq. 



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1736. It was Fahrenheit, also, who first noticed the 
feet that water boils at different degrees of temperature, 
according to the weight of the atmospheric column rest- 
ing upon it — that it requires, for instance, less heat to 
make it boil on the summit than at the foot of a high 
mountain. We shall, in some future number, explain 
the construction and principle of the thermometer. In 
the mean time we extract from • the Companion to the 
Almanac' for 1830/ a comparison of the various scales 
of the thermometer which are in general use : — 

" A fertile cause of error in estimating and comparing 
the statements of temperature, is the very different manner 
in which they are recorded by scientific men of different 
nations. Wherever the English language prevails, the 
graduation of Fahrenheit is generally preferred. By 
the German authors, Romer (Reaumur) is used ; and 
the French have, within a few years, decided to adopt 
that of Celsius, a Swedish philosopher, calling it * Thcr- 
mometre Centigrade,* To diminish this evil, in some 
degree, the annexed diagram has been constructed, which 
shows by inspection, the expression Of any point of tem- 
perature in the degrees of either or of all the above- 
mentioned scales ; and the comparison of any degree' of 
one with the equivalent degrees of the others." 



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May 16. — On this day, in the year 1623, was born at 
Rumsey, in Hampshire, the celebrated Sir William 
Petty, a memorable and animating example of the ele- 
vation and distinction which real talent, accompanied by 
activity and perseverance, has always in this country 



been able to command for its possessor. Petty's father 
was a clothier, and he appears. to have given* his son 
little to set out in life with but a good education. It is 
said that Petty, when quite a boy, took great delight in 
spending his time among smiths, carpenters, and othei 
artificers, so that at twelve years old he knew how to 
.work at their trades. He made so great progress at the 
grammar-school, that at fifteen he had made himself 
master of French, Latin, and Greek, and understood 
something of mathematics and physical science. On 
entering the world, he weiitto Caen in Normandy with a 
little stock of merchandize, which he there improved ; 
and on his return to England, having obtained some em- 
ployment connected with the navy, he managed to save 
about sixty pounds before lie was twenty years of age ; 
and with this sum he repaired to the Continent, to study 
medicine at the foreign universities. He accordingly 
attended the requisite classes successively at Leydcn, 
Utrecht, and Paris ; and in about three years came home 
well qualified to commence practising as a physician. 
Having taken up his residence in this capacity at Ox 
ford)- he soon acquired for himself a distinguished repu- 
tation, and, young as he was, was appointed assistant 
professor of anatomy in the University. He had already 
also become known in the scientific world by some me- 
chanical inventions of considerable ingenuity ; and he 
was one of the club of inquirers who, about the year 
1649, began to assemble weekly at Oxford, for philo- 
sophical investigations and experiments, and out of whose 
meetings eventually arose the present Royal Society. 
Indeed, Dr. Wallis, one of the members, in a letter, in 
which he has given an account of the association, tells 
us that their meetiugs were first held " at Dr. Petty s 
lodgings, in an apothecary's house, because of the con- 
venience of inspecting drugs, and the like, as there was 
occasion.'' Petty's reputation, however, rose so rapidly 
that, after having succeeded first to the professorship 
of anatomy in the University, and then to that of music 
in Gresham College, he was, in 1652, appointed phy- 
sician to the forces in Ireland. This carried him over 
to that country — and eventually introduced him to a new 
career. In 1655 we find him appointed secretary to the 
Lord Lieutenant, and three years afterwards a member 
of the House of Commons. He was, however, soon 
after removed from his public employments by the Par- 
liament which met after the death of the Protector. On 
the Restoration, which took place the following year, he 
was made a commissioner of the Court of Claims. 
The remainder of his life was as busy as the portion of 
it already passed had been ; but we have no room to 
enumerate the books he wrote, the ingenious schemes 
and inventions with which his mind was constantly teem- 
ing, and the lucrative speculations in mining, the manu- 
facture of iron, and various other great undertakings, 
in which he engaged. Suffice it to say, that, after accu- 
mulating a large property, he died in London, on the 
16th of December, 1687, full of honours, if not of 
years. The first Marquis of Lansdowne (the father 
of the present Marquis) was the great-grandson of Sir 
William Petty. | 

THE VALUE OF A PENNY. 

It is an old saying, that " a piu a day is a groat a year/ 
by which homely expression some wise man has in- 
tended to teach thoughtless people the value of small 
savings. We shall endeavour to show the value of 
somewhat higher article, though a much despiBed one, — 
we mean a penny. 

Pennies, like minutes, are often thrown away because 
people do not know what to do with them. Those who 
are economists of time, and all the great men ou recjord 
have been so, take care of the minutes, for they know 
that a tew minutes well applied each day will mak« 
hours in the course of a week, and day in the course 



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LMay 12, 



of a year ; and in the course of a long life they will make 
enough of lime, if well employed, in which a man may 
by perseverance have accomplished some work, useful 
to his fellow-creatures, and honourable to himself. 

Large fortunes, when gained honestly, are rarely ac- 
quired in any other way than by small savings at first ; 
and savings can only be made by habits of -industry 
and temperance. A saving man, therefore, while he is 
adding to the general stock of wealth, is setting an ex- 
ample of those virtues on which the very existence and 
happiness of society depend. There are saving people 
who are misers, and have no one good quality for which 
we can like them. These are not the kind of people of 
whom we are speaking ; but we may remark that a 
miser, though a disagreeable fellow while alive, is a very 
useful person when dead. He has been compared to a 
tree, which, while it is growing, can be applied to no 
use, but at last furnidies timber for houses and domestic 
utensils. But a miser is infinitely more useful than a 
spendthrift, a mere consumer and waster, who, after he 
has spent all his own money, tries to spend that of other 
people. 

Suppose a young man, just beginning to work for him- 
self, could save one penny a day ; and we believe there 
are few unmarried young workmen who could not do 
ihis. At the end of a year he would have 1/. 10*. 5d, 
which he could safely deposit in a savings' bank, where 
it would lie safely, with some small addition for interest, 
_till he might want it. After five years' savings, at the 
rate of a penny a day, he would have between 8 and 9/., 
which it is very possible he might find some opportunity 
of laying out to such advantage as to establish the foun- 
dation of his future fortune. Who has not had the 
opportunity of feeling some time in his life how advan- 
tageously he could have laid out such a sum of money, 
and how readily such a sum might have been saved by 
keeping all the pennies and sixpences that had been 
thrown away ? Such a sum as 8 or 9/. would enable 
a man to emigrate to Canada, where he might, by per- 
severing industry, acquire enough to purchase a piece of 
land ; and, if blessed with moderate length of life, he 
might be the happy cultivator of his own estate. 

Eight pounds would enable a mechanic, who had ac- 
quired a good character for sobriety and skill, to furnish 
himself on credit with goods and tools to five or six 
times the amount of his capital ; and this might form the 
foundation of his future fortune. 

It often happens that a clever and industrious man 
may have the opportunity of bettering his condition by 
removing to another place, or accepting some situation 
of trust; but the want of a little money to carry him 
from one place to another, the want of a better suit of 
clothes, or some difficulty of that kind, often stands 
in the way. Eight pounds would conquer all these ob- 
stacles. 

It may be said that five years is too long a time to 
look forward to. We think not. This country is full 
of examples of men who have risen from beginnings 
hardly more than the savings of a penny, through a 
long course of persevering industry, to wealth and 
respectability. And we believe here is hardly a con- 
dition, however low, from which a young man of good 
principles and unceasing industry may not elevate 
himself. 

But suppose the penny only saved during one year : 
at the end of it the young man finds he has got 
1/. 10s. bd. Will he squander this at the ale-house, or 
in idle dissipation, after having had the virtue to resist 
temptation all through the year? We think not. This 
1/. 10*. bd. may perform a number of useful offices. It 
may purchase some necessary implement, some good 
substantial article of dress, some useful books, or, if well 
laid out, some useful instruction in the branch of indus- 
try which is his casing. 1 1 may relieve him in sick- 



ness, R may contribute to the comfort of an aged hither, 
it may assist the young man in paying back some part 
of that boundless debt which he owes to the care aud 
tender anxiety of a mother, who has lived long enough 
to feel the want of a son's solicitude. Finally, however 
disposed of at the end of the year, if well disposed of, 
the penny saved will be a source of genuine satisfaction. 
The saving of it during the year has been a daily re- 
petition of a virtuous act, which near the end of the 
year we have little doubt will be confirmed into a vir- 
tuous habit. 

Suppose a dozen young men, who are fond of reading, 
were to contribute a penny a week to a common stock : 
at the end of the year they would have 21. 12*. This 
sum judiciously laid out, would purchase at least twelve 
volumes of really useful books, varying in price from 
three to four shillings, besides allowing some small sum 
for the person who took care of them and kept the 
accounts. Another year's saving would add another 
twelve volumes; and in five years the library might 
contain sixty volumes, including a few useful books 
of reference, such as dictionaries, maps, &c. — an amount 
of books, if well chosen, quite as much as any one 
of them would be able to study well in his leisure 
hours. 

But suppose the number of contributors were doubled 
or trebled, the annual income would then amount to 
5/. 4*., or 11. 16s., for which sum they could certainly 
procure as many useful books as they could possibly 
want. There might be some difficulty in the choice of 
books, as it is not always easy to know what are good 
and what are bad. We propose to meet this difficulty 
by occasional notices of particular books under the head 
of • The Library.\ At present we will merely suggest 
what classes of books might gradually find admission 
into such a library. There are now good practical and 
cheap treatises on the principles of many of the branches 
of industry which are followed by mechanics — such as 
books on the elements of geometry and measuring of 
surfaces and solids; on arithmetic; on chemistry, and 
its application to the useful arts, &c. ; lives of persons 
distinguished for industry and knowledge; descriptions 
of foreign countries, compiled from the best travels ; 
maps on a pretty large scale, both of the heaven and o( 
different parts of the earth : such books as these, with an 
English dictionary, a gazetteer, and some periodical 
work, would form a useful library, such as in a few years 
might be got together. 

It would be impossible to enumerate all the 
things that a penny will purchase ; and as to all 
bad things, they are not worth enumerating. But til 
is one which we cannot omit mentioning. A penny ^ 
buy a penny-worth of gin, and a man may spend it 
daily without thinking himself the worse for it But 
as every penny saved tends to give a man the habit 
of saving pennies, so every penny spent in gin, tends 
to cause him to spend more. Thus the saver of the 
penny may at the end of the year be a healthy re- 
putable person, and confirmed economist, with 1/. 10*. bd. 
in his pocket : the spender may be an unhealthy, ill- 
looking, worthless fellow ; a confirmed gin-drinker, 
with nothing in his pocket except unpaid bills. 

We wish it were in our power to impress strongly on 
the working people of this kingdom, how much hap- 
piness they may have at their command by small 
savings. They are by far the most numerous part of 
the community ; and it is bj their condition that the 
real prosperity of the country should bt^timated ; not 
by the few who live in affluence and splendour. Ilard^ 
as the condition of the working classes often is, are they " 
not yet aware that by industry, frugality, and a judicious 
combination of their small resources, they can do mora 
to make themselves happy, than anybody else can do 
for them? 



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68 



MIRABEAU, 
M. Dumont, of Geneva, a distinguished writer on juris- 
prudence, who died, about two years ago, has left behind 
him a most interesting work, entitled ' Recollections of 
MiraLeau, and of the two first Legislative Assemblies.' 
This work has been received throughout Europe as one 
of great merit and importance, and deservedly so ; for it 
contains, in a brief space, the best account we have read 
of the most extraordinary part of the life of one of the 
most extraordinary men of modern times; and with it, 
the first impulses and movement of the French Revo- 
lution. 

This most extraordinary man, whose character is 
still a problem to most of those who knew him, was 
Honore Gabriel Riquetti de Mirabeau, who ruled the 
National Assembly, who directed the political opinions 
of twenty-five millions of men for two years together, 
• and who was, for that period, what has been cleverly 
termed " the intellectual Dictator of France." This 
- champion for the people was born a noble; his father 
was the Marquis de Mirabeau, of whose ancestors we 
know nothing ; but, on his mother's side, he could boast 
a descent of which even those who dislike or care not for 
aristocracy, might be proud ; for she was grand-daughter 
of Riquet, constructor of the famous canal of Languedoc. 
Mirabeau was ugly in face almost to hideousness ; and 
he was perfectly conscious of this ; for, in writing to a 
lady who had never seen him, he told her to fancy the 
face of a tiger that had been marked with the small- 
pox, and then she would have an idea of his counte- 
nance ; and at a later period, when his voice and gesture 
and appearance struck the National Assembly with awe, 
he was accustomed to say, if any of its members had 
shown refractoriness during his absence, " I will go 
down to the4Jouse and show them my wild boar's head*, 
and that will silence them !" 

All the circumstances of the times were favourable to 
his ambition and his wonderful talents and energy ; but 
perhaps no man ever begun public life with more dis- 
advantages, as regarded his own character, against him. 
He had been seventeen times in prison ; he had de- 
serted his own, and run away with other men's wives ; 
he had had the most scandalous lawsuits with his own 
family ; had been condemned as a criminal ; exiled ; exe- 
cuted in effigy ; Jhe had written and published one of the 
most depraved of books ; had led the most dissipated 
and obscene of lives ; and was known to be a dangerous 
enemy to those he hated, and an unsure friend to those 
he pretended to love. The morals of the French capital 
been reduced in the days of despotism to a de- 
tied standard ; but, according to Dumont, when the 
re of Mirabeau was first read in the National 
Assembly among those elected to represent the French 
nation, it was hissed and hooted by all present. 

In spite, however, of all this, in a few weeks he was 
everything with those men who had considered them- 
selves disgraced by being associated with him ; and ga- 
thering influence and power by bounds, and not by slow 
steps, he became almost the absolute master of the Na- 
tional Assembly, the mass of Whose members he moved 
and controlled with as much facility as the Italian show- 
man moves his wooden puppets. His talents and energy 
were indeed, as we have characterized them — wonderful, 
and so was his eloquence ; but these qualities would 
not of themselves have given him the supremacy he 
obtained. There were two other advantages to. his 
favour : the first of which we have never heard sufficient 
importance given to — the second of which M. Dumont 
alone has clearly, and, it appears to us, honestly, stated. 
During his long imprisonments, Mirabeau had pro- 
foundly studied the science of politics ; and during 
his exile in foreign countries, and particularly in Eng- 
land, he had attentively investigated the practical part 
* In French} la hnre. 



ne pre 
fed b 

m 



of government : he was the only man that entered the 
National Assembly well acquainted with the necessary 
forms and true spirit of a representative government; 
all the rest had to learn their rudiments. There was 
talent — there was even genius in abundance — but all 
these new legislators were theorists; Mirabeau was 
the only practical man. 

In the second place, he had a wonderful art (which 
he had also acquired during his misfortunes, when his 
poverty obliged him to write and compile books and 
pamphlets for his living) of readily availing himself of 
the assistance of other men, and of working up their 
materials so as to make them appear his own. The 
whole matter of many of Mirabeau's most admired 
speeches was furnished by M. Dumont himself, or by 
another citizen of Geneva, M. Duroverai; and, ge- 
nerally, he laid under contribution the information and 
experience of all his associates. When he was deficient 
on any point, or, what was more frequently the case, 
pressed for time, he would assemble these gentlemen, 
and from their conversation, their notes, or digested 
essays, get up all he wanted, and proceed forthwith to 
astonish the Assembly with his wonderful fund ol 
knowledge and flashes of eloquence. But that elo 
quence, it must be said, did really make the matter his 
own ; his powers of adaptation were as great as those 
of invention in other men. 

Mirabeau's hatred to the ancient despotism was im- 
placable ; but he seems to have had no objection to a 
constitutional monarchy. Great obscurity still hangs 
over these matters ; but ft is said that, seeing the 
democratic principle was gaining too much strength, 
and the revolution going too far, he had undertaken to 
stop its march, and that the negotiations with the Court 
of the unfortunate Louis XVI., which were notorious, 
had for their object the prevention of a republic, and 
the establishment of a limited monarchy. His will had 
hitherto been law \ he had ruled and played with all 
parties and factions — but whether he could now have 
succeeded to the utmost of his wish — whether he could 
now have quieted the storm he had mainly raised, and 
on which he had floated, we cannot determine ; for at 
the very crisis, at the time when he was supposed to 
hold the destinies of his country in his hands, he died in 
the forty-second year of his age, after a most agonizing 
illness of five days, brought on by his detestable excesses. 
His funeral was * 4 rather an apotheosis than a human 
entombment." Nearly all Paris followed his body to 
the church of Sainte Genevieve, thenceforward entitled 
the Pantheon ; the melancholy music, the thousand 
torches, and the intermittent cannon, producing an effect 
which has been forcibly described by many eye-witnesses ; 
and those who had feared and hated him, those who had 
been literally enchanted by his eloquence and genius, saw 
the grave closed over Mirabeau with awe and feelings 
that never can be described. 

The career of Mirabeau offers* a few consolatory 
remarks to those who are gifted with no extraordinary 
faculties, either for good or for evil. Mirabeau swayed 
the destinies of millions, — but he was never happy : — 
Mirabeau had almost reached the pinnacle of human 
power, and yet he fell a victim to the same evil passions 
which degrade and ruin the lowest of mankind. He 
could never be really great, because he was never freed 
from the bondage of his own evil desires. The man who 
steadily pursues a consistent course of duty, which has 
for its object to do good to himself and to all around 
him, will be followed to the grave by a few humble and 
sincere mourners, and no record will remain, except in 
the hearts of those who loved him, to tell of his earthly 
career. But that man may gladly leave to such as 
Mirabeau the music, the torches, and the cannon, by 
which a nation proclaimed its loss ; for assuredly he has 
felt that igward consolation, and that sustaining hop* 



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throughout his life, which only the good can feel ; — he 
has fully enjoyed, in all its purity, the holy influence of 
" the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." 

THE MAY-FLY. 

" The angler's Mdy-fly, the most short bred in its perfect state of 
any of the insect race, emerges from the water, where it passes its 
auretia state, alxmt six in the evening, and dies about eleven at 
B ;ght. r — White's Selforne* 

Thr sun of the eve was warm and bright 

When the May-fly burst his shell, 
And he wanton* d awhile .in that fair light 

OVr the rivor's gentle swell; 
And the deepening tints of the crimson sky 
Still gleam'd on the wing of the glad May-fly. 
The colours of sunset pass*d away, 

The crimson and yellow green, 
And the evening-star's first twinkling ray 

In the waveless stream was seen; 
Till the deep repose of the stillest night 
Was hushing alxmt his giddy flight. 
The noon of the night is nearly come — 

There's a crescent in the sky ; — 
The silence still hears the myriad hum 

Of the insect revelry. 
The hum has ceas'd— the quiet wave 
Is now the sportive May-fly's grave. 
Oh ! thine was a blessed lot — to spring 

In thy lustihood to air, 
And sail about, on untiring wing, 

Through a world most rich and fair. 
To drop at once in thy water}' bed, 
Like a I&if that the willow branch has shed. 
And who shall say that his thread of years 

Is a life more blest than thine I 
Has his feverish dream of doubts and fears 

Such joys as those which shine 
In the constant pleasures of thy way, 
Most happy child of the happy May ? 
For thou wert born when the earth was cla«* 

With her robe of buds and flowers, 
And didst float about with a soul as glad 

As a bird in the sunny showers ; 
And the hour of thy death had a sweet repose, 
Like a melody, sweetest at its close. 
Nor too brief th* date of thy cheerful race — 

'Tis its use that measures time — 
And the mighty Spirit that fills all space 

With His life and His will sublime, 
May see that the May-fly and the Man 
Each flutter out the same small span. 
And the fly thai is born with the sinking tun, 

To die ere the midnight hour, 
May have deeper joy, ere his course be run, 

Than man m his pride and power ; 
And the insect's minutes be spared the fears 
And the anxious doubts of our three-score years. 
The years and the minutes are as one— 

The fly drops in his twilight nrirth, 
And the man, when his long day's work is done, 

Crawls to the self-same earth. 
Great Father of each I may otir mortal day 
Be the prelude to an endless "May ! 

HIGH DUTIES AND LOW DUTIES. 
It is a well-known principle, that in taxation two and 
two do not make four — that is, if a government receive 
one sum from a low or a moderate duty upon an article 
of common use, that receipt will not be doubled by 
doubling the duty. In some cases it will be even less- 
ened. This result is produced by the diminished con- 
sumption, arising out of the higher price to the con- 
sumer ; which higher price includes the additional profit 
which the manufacturer and the retailer must charge 
for the additional capital employed upon the article in 
consequence of the tax. Suppose a tax of a penny 
were put upon the ' Penny Magazine.' Let us see, in 
that case, how the tax would affect the consumption, 
and what the government would gain by the tax. In 
the 6rst place the tax would raise the price of the Ma- 
gazine to tAree-pence ; for, as the retailer receives one- 
third of the present price, he would also require to re- 
ceive one-third of the additional price : — the stamp of a 
penny would therefore immediately become three half- 



pence to the consumer, by the profit of the retailer alone. 
The remaining half-penny would be necessary to com- 
pensate the publisher for this additional advance of 
capital, and for the diminished return upon the original 
outlay for authors, artists, and that branch of the printing 
process which is called composition. There are certain 
expenses which are the same whether a work sells one 
hundred copies, or one hundred thousand. The price 
being therefore raised to three-pence, we may fairly con- 
clude that the consumption would be diminished nine- 
tenths — that ten thousand copies would be sold instead 
of a hundred thousand. Let us see how the revenue 
would be affected by these altered circumstances : — 
The paper for 100,000 copies of the Penny Magazine 
weighs 3,4001b8 , upon which a duty is paid of 3d. 

per lb., amounting to 

The imposition of a stamp of Id. per copy would have 
the effect of raising the retail price of the-Penny 
Magazine to 3d. At that rate it is presumed that 
the sale of the 7ftrw-penny Magazine, instead of 
being 100,000 copies, would be reduced to 10,000 
at the utmost. 
Upon 1^000 copies, with Id. stamp, the revenue 

would receive as under : £. s. d. £. #, 

Duty of 3d. in the lb. upon paper. 4 9 

Stamp of Id. upon 10,000. ..... 41 1 3 

Deduct discount of twenty per cent. 

allowed upon news stamps 8 6 6 

' 33 



£. 8. 
4? 10 







6 6 



37 11 6 



Weekly loss to the revenue from the high duty 4 18 6 

Or, Annual duty upon sixty-four impressions of 100,000 
copies of the Penny Magazine, Using 217,6001bs. of 
paper, taxed at 3d. per lb 2,720 

Annual produce of a penny stamp, and paper duty upon 

10,000 copies 2,404 16 



Annual loss to the revenue from the high duty \ 315 4 

By this operation, therefore, the government would 
sustain that loss which invariably results from the dimi- 
nished consumption of an article of general use upon 
which a high duty is imposed ; and ninety thousand per- 
sons would be excluded from the purchase of a little work 
from which they derive instruction and amusement. By 
this diminished consumption of nine-tenths of the Penny 
Magazine, nearly nine -tenths of the paper-makers, prin- 
ters, type-founders, ink-makers, bookbinders, carriers, 
and retailers, to whom the sale of a hundred thousand 
copies weekly affords profitable employment, would, as 
far as the Penny Magazine goes, be deprived of that 
employment ; and that diminution of profitable employ- 
ment would in a degree diminish their power of conti- 
nuing consumers of other articles contributing to ttte 
revenue, and thus still more affect the %mount of fljS^ 
ation dependent upon tjje Penny Magazine. "*• 

Perseverance.—" I recollect," says Sir Jonah Barriugton. 
"in Queens County, to have seen a Mr. Clerk, who 
had been a working carpenter, and when making a bench 
for the session justices at the Court-house, was laughed 
at for taking peculiar pains in planing and smoothing 
the seat of it He smilingly observed, that he did so 
to make it easy for himself, as he was resolved he 
would never die till he had a right to sit thereupon, and 
he kept his word. He was an industrious man — honest, 
respectable, and kind-hearted. He succeeded in all bin 
efforts to accumulate an independence ; he did accumulate 
it, and uprightly. His character kept pace with the in- 
crease of his property, and he lived to sit as a magistrate 
on that very bench that he sawed and planed." 



LONDON.— CHARLES fCMGHT, PALL-MALL BASX\ 

Shopkeeper* and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the fJlvitimg 



London, Groombridof, Panyer Alley, 

PaU*rao»t«r Hott. 
Birmingham. Drakk. 
Bristol Wjmtmct and Co. 
Hull, ST1PBKH90W. 

Leeds, Baiwrs and Co. 
Liverpool, Wilmixb and Smith, 



Manchester, Roaiitaow, and Wru and 

Sinus. 
Newcastle upon-Tffne, Charhi t r. 
Nottingham, Wrioht. 
Dublin, Wakcmak. 
Edinburgh, Oliver and Born 
Glasgow, Atkikmn and Co. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[May 19, 1632. 



THE GRANDE CHARTREUSE. 



There are few finer things in Europe than the monas- 
tery called by this name. It stands on the very edge of 
France, close to the borders of Savoy, amongst the 
mountains which form the lowest and most western line 
of the great chain of the Alps. It is distant about six- 
teen English miles from Grenoble, the chief town of the 
department of the Isere, and about twelve from Les 
Echelles, in Savoy, a small town on the great road from 
France to Italy by Mont Cenis and Turin. 

Les Echelles stands in a plain quite surrounded by 
high mountains, on a river called the Guiers Vif. It is 
like the situation of Beddgelert, in Carnarvonshire, ex- 
e*f>t that the mountains are nearly twice as high as those 
in Wales. When yeu set out from Les Echelles to go 
to the Grande Chartreuse, you cross the Guiers Vif, and 
enter France immediately; for this little river here divides 
the two countries- of France and Savoy. You then go 
along in the plain, for about three or four miles, towards 
the mountains which surround it, and which rise so high 
and so steep, and so without any apparent opening, that 
you cannot fancy where the road will carry you. At last, 
when you are come close under them, you find that an 
enormous notch, as it were, has been cut down into them 
from top to bottom, just wide enough to leave room for 
a roaring mountain torrent which comes hurrying down, 
and presently falls into the Guiers Vif. This torrent is 
called the Guiers Mort, or the Dead Guiers; as the name 
of the other means the " Quick," or the Living Guiers. Up 
the banks of this Dead Guiers you are now to make your 
way, in the deep notch above mentioned; so deep that 
in winter the sun can hardly be seen over the tops of the 
cliffs, and so narrow that there is only room for the 
chafing torrent, and a narrow road, or rather track, cut 
through the wood along its side. The trees, all the way, 
are magnificent, chiefly pines and beech, and the timber 
grows to an enormous size. You go in this sort of 

VOL.1- 



scenery for about seven or eight miles, ascending all the 
way, and in some places the track is very steep and is 
cut in zigzags to ease it ; for you are going up towards 
the source of the Dead Guiers, and sometimes the ground 
falls, or rather rises to you, so rapidly that the stream 
comes down in a succession of waterfalls ; and, as you 
have to fellow the course of the stream, your track is 
steep in proportion. At last, when you have thus got up 
to a great height, you find an opening in the mountains 
on your left hand, where another little torrent comes 
clown into the Guiers ; and this is not such a mere notch 
as the glen up which you have been toiling, but is wide 
enough to have some pasture in it, iind the green open 
fields look quite cheerful amidst the dark masses of wood 
which form a ring round them. You turn up this open- 
ing and ascend some way farther, and then, just at the 
head of this little valley, under high walls of cliff which 
rise up abruptly out of the pines, and stop all further 
progress, you see the monastery of the Grande Char- 
treuse. 

It is a very large pile of buildings, like one of our 
colleges, enclosing a great oblong- square or cloister, the 
length of which is 672 French feet, or nearly 714 Eng- 
lish. At eath corner the roof runs up very high to a 
point, like the two wings of the Tuilleries, at Paris. 
Your guide takes you to a large out-building, where you 
leave your horses, and where you are met by one of the 
lay-brothers, who conducts you to the monastery, and 
shows you into the stranger's room. Here you may dine, 
if you require it ; but no meat is allowed to be eaten at 
the Chartreuse, either by the monks themselves or by 
others. The la)tbrother then returns to take you round 
the building. The cells of the fathers are ranged along 
the sides of the great cloister, with little mottoes from 
Scripture, or from some religious book, painted outside 
on the doors. Each cell includes two rooms and a sort 



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of closet for books, besides a lumber or wood-room on 
the ground-floor, opening into a little garden, enclosed 
within four stone walls ; but when you look beyond the 
walls, or rather up into the sky, you see the magnificent 
boundary-wall of cliff, crowned with pines on its summit, 
and a cross affixed on the highest peak of all By each 
cell door is a small hole in the wall, at wLich the father's 
provisions are given in to him ; for th>y only dine in the 
hall on Sundays and holidays, and even then they do not 
speak to one another; for the rule of the Carthusians, as 
**they are called, is one of the strictest o f all the monastic 
orders, and they may not speak either to one another or 
to strangers, without the leave of their superior. 

Before the first French revolution the monks had a 
very considerable property in the forests whioh surround 
their monastery. But at the revolution they were 
deprived both of their forests and of their monastery; 
the former were sold to different individuals, but the 
latter never could find a purchaser; — Us remote situation 
rendering it unfit for any other purpose thau that for 
which it had been originally designed. Accordingly, 
when the Bourbons came back in 1814, the monks re- 
turned to the Grande Chartreuse, and to the possession 
of the meadows immediately around it, with the liberty 
of getting their fuel from the adjoining forests. In 
1830 there were about one hundred and fifty persons 
belonging to the monastery, including the fathers and 
the lay-brothers. They visit the sick, and perform spi- 
ritual duties in the small chapels and churches scattered 
over the surrounding mountains. For eight months in 
the year the snow lies all round the monastery, and of 
course the climate is too cold either for corn or fruit ; 
but in the summer months, when strangers commonly 
visit it, the bright green of the pastures, and the magni- 
ficent size of the buildings, seeming like a little habitable 
and humanized spot in the midst of the forests and cliffs, 
form a scene not only most sublime, but even cheerful 
and delightful. 

The monks of the Grande Chartreuse, living in the 
midst of a wilderness, with winter lasting for two-thirds 
of the year, eating no meat, wearing horse-hair next their 
skin, and depriving themselves of one of the greatest of 
earthly blessings, that of social intercourse, and being 
in all things bound by the strictest and most precise 
rules, — are one extreme of human life. The colonist of 
a new country, under a fine climate with a rich soil, sur- 
rounded by the restless activity of a growing settlement, 
with a low standard of public morals, small restraints of 
law and few of religion, eating and drinking to his heart's 
content, quarrelsome and insolent out of the very plenty 
of his condition, talking much, reading little, and think- 
ing less, and the efforts of his mind reacliing no further 
thar to political abuse or election squabbles, — is a spe- 
cimen of another extreme. The idler in luxurious cities, 
hurrying from one false excitement to another, living 
amidst a constant round of dinners and routs, passing 
the night in gilded saloons where the passion for gain 
assumes its most hideous form of selfishness at the 
gaming-table, clinging to his bed till the meridian sun 
has seen the daily task of the industrious more than half 
finished — this man is a specimen of a third extreme. 
But as long as we have any notions of what is noble,-* 
as long as we feel that the character is exalted by every 
effort, and injured by habits of mere enjoyment, — so long 
will the extreme of self-denial be judged by all good and 
wise men to be more respectable, and therefore more 
useful than the extremes of self-indulgence. 



THE LIFE-BUOY. 

The life-buoy, now commonly used in the Navy, is the 
invention of Lieutenant Coots, of the Royal Navy. It con- 
lists of two hollow copper vessels connected together, each 
about as large as an ordinary sized pillow, and of buoyancy 



atd capacity sufficient to support one man standing upon 
them. Should there be more than one person requiring 
support, they can lay hoM of rope beckets, fitted to the buoy, 
and so sustain themselves. Between the two copper vessels 
there stands up a honow pole, or mast, into which is inscrfod, 
from below, an iron rod, whose lower extremis ; s loa<U»r] 
with lead, in such a manner, that when the ouoy is let £o 
the iron slips down to a certain extent, lengthens the lever 
and enables the lead at the end to act as ballast By thi* 
means the mast is kept upright, and the buoy prevented' frr,m 
upsetting. The weight at fhe end of the rod is arranged se 
as to afford secure footing for two persons, should that num 
ber reach it ; and there are also, as I said before, large rope 
beckets through which others can thrust their head and 
shoulders, till assistance is rendered. 

At the top of the mast is fixed a port-fire, calculated to 
burn, I think, twenty minutes, or half an hour; this is ignited 
most ingeniously by tbe same process, which lets the buoy 
fall into the water. So that a man falling overboard at night 
is directed to the buoy by the blaze on the top of its pole or 
mast, and the boat sent to rescue him also knows in what 
direction to pull. Even supposing, however, the man not to 
have gained the life-buoy, it is clear that, if above the surface 
at all, he must be somewhere in that neighbourhood ; and if 
he shall have gone down, it is still some satisfaction, by re 
covering the buoy, to ascertain that the poor wretch rs not left 
to perish by inches. 

The method by which this excellent invention is attached 
to the ship, and dropped into the water in a single instant, 
is perhaps not the least ingenious part of the contrivance. 
The buoy is generally fixed amidships, over the stern, where 
it is held securely in its place by being strung, or threaded, 
as it were, on two strong perpendicular rods fixed to the teff- 
rail, and inserted in holes piercing the frame-work of the 
buoy. The apparatus is kept in its place by what is called a 
slip-stopper, a sort of catch-bolt or detent, which can be 
unlocked at pleasure by merely pulling a trigger ; upon with- 
drawing the stopper the whole machine slips along the rods, 
and falls at once into the ship's wake. The trigger, which 
unlocks the slip-stopper, is furnished with a lanyard, passing 
through a hole in the stern, and having at its inner end a 
large knob, marked "Life-Buoy;" this alone is used in the 
day-time. Close at hand is another wooden knob, marked 
" Lock,'' fastened to the end of a line, fixed to the trigger of 
a gun-lock primed with powder, and so arranged that, when 
the line is pulled, the port-fire is instantly ignited, while, at 
the same moment, the life-buoy descends, and floats merrily 
away, blazing like a light-bouse. 

The gunner, who has charge of the life-buoy lock, sees it 
freshly and carefully primed every evening at quarters, of 
which he makes a report to the -captain. In the morning 
the priming is taken out, and the lock unlocked. During 
the night a man is always stationed at this part of the ship, 
and every half-hour, when the bell strikes, he calls out "Life- 
buoy ! " to show that he is awake and at his post, exactly in 
the same manner as the look-out men abaft, on the beam, and 
forward, call out " Starboard quarter /" " Starboard gang- 
way ! " " Starboard bow ! " and so on, completely round tbe 
ship, to prove that they are not napping. — From Captain 
Basil Hall s Fragments of Voyages. Second Series. 



FRERE JACQUES. 
The most difficult and doubtful operations in surgery 
were formerly those in lithotomy (extracting the stone). 
The instrument used was called the apparatus-major. 
It was rarely employed successfully, and all writers have 
spoken of its use as barbarous and horribly painful. 
The torture it occasioned superseded the pain of the 
disease, and the existence of the sufferer was, with few 
exceptions, shortened by the increase of Ids agonies. 
An ecclesiastic, usually known by the name of Prt-re 
Jacques, introduced, about the year 1697, a new mode 
of operating in this complaint. The old machinery he 
threw aside, and, relying upon the firmness of his haml 
and his own courage, he would drive his knife into the 
seat of the disease and relieve the patient. His success, 
when compared with that of others, was singularly great. 
The method he pursued had been taught him, a-nd he 
was bold enough to practise it though ignorant of ana 



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Corny. His popularity 'was at first great ; yet it became 
seriously affected, and objections to his skill were con- 
firmed by the death of many who had submitted them- 
selves to him. . Of forty-five patients in the Hotel Dieu, 
sixteen only survived, and of nineteen in the hospital of 
La Charit<£, only eleven survived. The measures he 
adopted, in order to avoid so many casualties, he has 
himself related. He operated upon dead bodies, under the 
instruction of Du Verney, a celebrated anatomist ; and 
with his assistance, and that of Fagon and Felix, emi- 
nent surgeons, learnt the dangers and injuries connected 
with his operation. Subsequently he cut thirty-eight 
persons at Versailles, who all survived, sixteen at Stras- 
burg, one of whom only, an old man, died, and elsewhere 
his success was equally great. " From his life and for- 
tunes," says the late Mr. Bell, " one important lesson 
may be deduced ; we may learn how slightly we should 
rely on our natural talents, how little faith we should 
have in mere courage I This intrepid and fearless man 
committed nothing but butcheries, while he remained what 
has been termed a natural operator ; but, after having 
undergone the discipline of science, and learned the 
anatomy of the parts, he became truly valuable." How 
many there are whom similar facts do not influence. 
Received opinions and prejudices are rarely abandoned, 
even after the evils they occasion are manifest, and their 
incorrectness has become apparent. When surgery 
hardly existed as a science, dissection might with some 
reason have been viewed as unnecessary. If objected 
to, the evidence of its utility was rare, and it would have 
appeared useless to reason upon the advantages its cul- 
tivation might afford to those who felt no gratification 
from such as it then presented. Can doubt, however, 
still exist upon the necessity of its study, or upon the 
facilities which ought to be granted to its pursuit ? The 
accidents which daily occur, the liability of all to disease, 
and the knowledge requisite to determine whether any 
injured or diseased part of the body can be saved, or 
whether it should be sacrificed for the preservation of 
the rest, sufficiently show how interested we are in its 
success, and how important are the benefits afforded 
by it 

THE NATIONAL GALLERY. 

We undertook, in a former number, to point out to our 
readers the unexpensive amusements of an intellectual 
order, which are within the reach of every one residing 
in the metropolis. Of these our national collection of 
pictures is worthy of particular commendation. It is 
obvious that a ready access to works of standard excel- 
lence is of the greatest advantage to persons desirous of 
acquiring a pure taste in the Fine Arts ; but the benefit 
to be derived from such an exhibition must depend on 
the* object with which it is visited. An hour may be 
idled away as un profitably in a gallery of pictures as any 
where else ; though the contemplation of works of art 
may afford one of the purest pleasures which a refined 
mind is capable of enjoying. Persons unacquainted 
with the works of the great masters are seldom much 
struck with good pictures at first sight, and find them- 
selves incapable of appreciating their merits. They 
must not, however, be too soon discouraged : even Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, enthusiastically devoted as he was to 
the art of which he became so great an ornament, acknow • 
ledged that his impression on seeing for the first time the 
celebrated works of Rafiaelle, at Rome, was that of 
disappointment ; though he was not long blind to their 
excellences. 

It is a common mistake to look upon painting as a 
mere art of imitation ; but an acquaintance with good 
works will show that it has a higher aim. Its object is 
indeed to counterfeit nature, but her effects must be 
translated, as it were, into a new language ; her most 
beautiful or impressive forms must be selected with care; 



and in every work, of whatever class, a prevailing sen- 
timent must be preserved, which is the source of what 
is termed feeling in the art, and affords one of its 
greatest charms. Pictures, in short, must be studied as 
attentively as books, before they can be thoroughly 
understood, or the principles of art so established in the 
mind as to render those works which are truly sublime 
or beautiful the objects of admiration, in preference to 
those which catch the inexperienced eye by mere gaudi- 
ness or exaggeration of any kind. 

We shall offer a few observations from time to time on_ 
the principal features of our national collection, in ordev^ 
to assist our readers in the pursuit of what we trust will 
be their object when, they visit the gallery, which is open 
to them in Pall-mall, from the hour of ten till five, on 
Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, in 
every week. 

The picture of greatest importance in this collection, 
and there are few paintings in the world of more real 
merit, is that of the Raising of Lazarus, by Sebasliaji 
del Piombo. Sebastian was a Venetian painter, but he 
spent a great part of his life at Rome, and this work 
partakes more of the merits of the Roman than the 
Venetian school : this may be also, in a great measure, 
owing to the assistance he is said to have derived from 
Michael Angelo, who, jealous of the fame of Raffaelle, 
incited Sebastian to undertake the work in competition 
with his rival's celebrated picture of the Transfiguration, 
The work under our review possesses few of the minor 
beauties which attract the eye at first sight. The painter 
appears to have been unacquainted with the art of giving 
effect to his work by collecting the lights and shades into 
masses. This defect, together with a similar one in 
the distribution of the colours, gives the picture a spotty 
appearance, which is Increased by the imperfection of 
the aerial perspective*. These minor defects are, how- 
ever, amply compensated by beauties of the very highest 
class. In his representation of the subject, the painter 
must be supposed to have chosen the time when the first 
amazement at the stupendous miracle had in a degree 
subsided. The attendants had acquired sufficient self- 
possession to execute the command o^our Saviour to 
remove the grave-clothes. The prevaopg passions of 
the different spectators had therefore resumed their 
sway, and one of the greatest merits of the work is the 
power of truth with which the various Bhades of feeling 
and character are depicted in the numerous figures of 
which the painting is composed. The Christ, which is 
the principal figure, wants the sublime character which 
we picture to ourselves in the Saviour of mankind ; but 
the action of the figure is siuu^ and appropriate, and 
the expression of the head is ^^■beautifiil. You may 
trace the patience of benevol eMrwhich formed so con- 
spicuous a part of his character, but the countenance is 
rendered still more interesting by a touching expression 
of melancholy — a presentiment, as it were, of his fate, 
and of the sorrows which he had undertaken to bear for 
the sake of all mankind. The figure immediately at his 
feet, that of Mary, is the finest in the picture; it is 
beautifully designed, and expresses her gratitude and 
devotion in the most forcible manner. The figure of 
Lazarus, and those immediately surrounding it, both 
from the character of the design and the colossal pro- 
portions of the group, and from the fact of Sebastian's 
apparent want of skill in designing the naked figure, is 
supposed to be the part of the picture in which he derived 
particular assistance from M. Angelo, who, as many of 
our readers are probably aware, had a profound know- 
ledge of the anatomical details of the human form. 
The Lazarus displays this knowledge in a wonderful 



* Perspective i§ divided into lintqr and aerial. linear perspec- 
tive is the art of drawing lines with geometrical precision ; aerial 
perspective is the more difficult art of representing objects in their 
due proportions, but modified by colour and shadow, as they are seen 
in gradations of distance, was to gift the eflfeeto of atmosphtr*. 



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[May 19, 



manner ; the play of the muscles in action, and the pre- 
cision with which they are defined, is extraordinary. 

Our limits will not allow us to point out all the beau- 
ties of this excellent picture ; but we cannot conclude 
our observations upon it without calling particular atten- 
tion to the figure of St. Peter, who is kneeling in the 
corner of the picture, in an ecstasy of devotion ; and 
to that of St. John, in a green drapery, immediately be- 
hind the Christ, turning with mild triumph to the Jew, 
on whose countenance the expression of doubt is won- 
derfully depicted, and seeming to appeal to the miracle 
as a convincing proof of the sure foundation of his 
faith. The mechanical part of the picture should nut be 
omitted in describing its merits ; every part of it is 
finished with the erreatest care : the texture of the work 



We have translated the following account of the mode of 
killing the hippopotamus in Dongola from the Travels* 
of Dr. Edward Ruppeli, a careful observer and a trust- 
worthy writer. Ekragola is a narrow slip of country 
lying on both sides of the Nile and extending south- 
ward from 19° 43' of north latitude for about 170 miles, 
measured along the ofB^ of the stream. 

The harpoon, with^Boh the natives attack the hip- 
popotamus, terminates in a flat oval-shaped piece of 
iron, three-fourths of the outer rim of which are sharp- 
ened to a very fine edge. To the upper part of this 
iron one end of a long stout cord is fastened, and the 
other is tied to a thick piece of light wood. The hunters 
attack the animal either by day or by pight, but they 
prefer day-light, as it enables them better to escape from 
the assaults of their furious enemy. One part of the 
rope with the shaft of the harpoon the hunter takes in 
his right hand ; in the left, he holds the rest of the rope 
and the piece of wood. Thus armed, he cautiously ap- 
proaches the animal when he is asleep during the day 
on some small island in the river, or he looks for him at 
night when the hippopotamus is likely to come out of 
the water to graze in the corn-fields. When the hunts- 
man is about seven paces from the beast, he throws the 
spear with all his might, and if he is a good marksman 
the iron pierces through the thick hide, burying itself 
in the flesh deeper than the barbed point The animal 
generally plunges into the water ; and though the shaft 

* Travels in Nubia, 1824-5, &c, Frankfort on Jhe Main, 1829. 
German. 



of the harpoon may be broken, the piece of wood that 
is attached to the iron floats on the surface and shows 
what direction he takes. There is great danger if the 
hippopotamus spies the huntsman before he can throw 
his spear. He then springs forward with the utmost 
fury, and crushes him at once in his wide open mouth ; 
an instance of which took place while we were in the 
country. 

As soon as the animal is fairly struck, the huntsmen 
in their small canoes cautiously approach the floating 
wood, and after fastening a strong rope to it, they hasten 
with the other end towards the large boat which con- 
tains their companions. The huntsmen now pull the 
rope, when the monster, irritated by the pain, seizes the 
boat with his teeth, and sometimes succeeds in crushing 
)r overturning it In the mean time his assailants are 
lot idle : four or five more harpoons are plunged into 
rim, and every effort is made to drag the beast close up 
to the boat, so as to give him less room to plunge about 
in. Then they try "to divide the ligamentum jugi f 
with a sharp weapon, or to pierce his skull. Since the 
Dody of a full-grown hippopotamus is too bulky to be 
pulled out of the water without a great number of 
bands, they generally cut him up in the water and bring 
the. pieces to land. In the province of Dongola not 
more than one or two of these animals are killed in a 
year : from 1821 to 1823 inclusive nine were killed, out 
of which number we despatched four. The flesh of a 
young hippopotamus is very good ; but the full-grown 
ones are generally too fat They weigh as much as 
four or five oxen. The hide is made into excellent whips, 
and will furnish from 350 to 500. No use is made of 
the teeth. 

One of the hippopotami which we killed was a very 
old fellow and of an enormous size, measuring 13J 
French feet from the nose to <he extremity of the tail. 
His incisive teeth were 26 French inches long, measured 
from the root to the point, along the outer bending. We 
fought with him for four good hours by night, and were 
very near losing our large boat and probably our lives 
too, owing to the fury of the animal. As soon as he 
3pied the huntsmen in the small canoe, whose business 
it was to fasten the long rope to the float, he dashed at 
them with all his might, dragged the canoe with him 
under the water, and smashed it in pieces. The two 
huntsmen with difficulty escaped. Of tweuty -five musket 
balls aimed at the head from a distance of about five 
feet, only one pierced the skin and the bones of the note : . 
at each snorting the animal spouted out large streams of 
blood on the boat The rest of the balls stuck in (he 
thick hide. At last we availed ourselves of a swivel ; 
but it was not iill we had discharged five balls from it 
at the distance of a few feet, and had done most terrible 
damage to the head and body, that the colossus gave 
up the ghost. The darkness of the night increased the 
danger of the contest, for this gigantic animal tossed our 
boat about in the stream at his pleasure ; and it was at 
ajfbrtunate .moment indeed for us that he gave up the 
struggle, as he had carried us into a complete labyrinth 
of rocks which, in the midst of the confusion, none of 
our crew had observed. 

For want of proper weapons the natives cannot kill a 
hippopotamus of this size: all they ean do to drive him 
from their fields is to make a little noise in the night 
and keep up fires at different spots. These animals, from 
their voracity, are a curse to a whole district ; and in 
some places they are so bold that they will not quit the 
fields which they are laying waste, till a great number 
of men come out with poles and loud cries to attempt to 
drive them away. 

t The suspensory ligament (an elastic substance), which holds the - 
heads of quadrupeds in their places, so as to allow a free movement 
downwards, is particularly strong in all those whose heads are of 
great weight 



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CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE LITE. 

Blest he, though undistinzuish'd from the crowd 

By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, 

Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside 

His fierceness, having learnt, though slow to learn, 

The manners and the arts of civil life.. 

His wants indeed are many; but supply 

Is obvious, placM within the easy reach 

Of temp'rate wishes and industrious hands 

Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ; 

Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns, 

And terrible to sight, as when she springs > 

(If e'er she springs spontaneous) in remote 

And barbVous climes, where violence prevails, 

And strength is lord of all ; but gentle, kind, 

By culture tam'd, by liberty rerresh'd. 

And all her fruits by radiant truth maturVL 

War and the chase engross the savage whole ; 

War fbllow'd for revenge, or to supplant 

The envied tenants of some happier spot ; 

The chase for sustenance, precarious trust I 

His hard condition with severe constraint 

Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth 

Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he Warns . 

Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate, 

Mean self-attachment, and scarce aught beside. 

Thus fare the shiv*ring natives of the north, 

And thus the rangers of the western world, 

Where it advances far into the deep, 

Tow'rds the antarctic E'en the faVouxM isles 

So lately found, although the constant sun 

Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile, 

Can boast but little virtue ; and, inert 

Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain 

In manners — victims of luxurious ease. 

These therefore I can pity, plactt remote 

From all that science traces, art invents, 

Or inspiration teaches ; and endoa'd 

In boundless oceans, never to be passM 

By navigators uninform'd as they, 

Or ploueh'd perhaps by British bark again : 

But iar beyond the rest, and with most cause, 

Thee, gentle savage * I whom no love of thee 

Or thine, but curiosity perhaps, 

Or else vain glory, prompted us to draw. 

Forth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here 

With what superior skill we can abuse 

The gifts of Providence, and squander life. 

The dream is past; and thou hast found again 

Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and fame, 

And homestall thatch'd with leaves. But hast thou found > 

Their former charms ? And, having seen our state, 

Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp 

Of eauipage, our gardens, and our sports, 

And heard our music ; are thy simple friends, 

Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights, 

As dear to thee as once ? And have thy joys 

Lost nothing by comparison with ours r 

Rude as thou art (for we retum'd thee rode 

And ignorant, except of outward show) 

I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart 

And spiritless, as never to regret 

Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known. 

Methinks I see thee straying on the beach, 

And asking of the surge, that bathes thy foot, 

If ever it has washM our distant shore. 

I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, 

A patriot's for his country : thou art sad 

At thought of her forlorn and abject state, 

From which no pow*r of thine can raise her up. 

Cowfbr. 

Omai, the native of one of the Friendly Islands, who 
is thus beautifully apostrophized by Cowper, acted as 
interpreter to Captain Cook in his third voyage round 
the world. His natural quickness and his fidelity ren- 
dered him of considerable use to our great navigator in 
his intercourse with the natives of the South Seas. Omai 
was brought by Cook to England, where he was treated 
with much kindness, and introduced into the best society. 
The ease and even elegance of his manners was an object 
of surprise ;— but almost all the uncivilized people of 
this part of the world, and more especially the New Zea- 
laaders, have exhibited the same natural respect for the 
opinions and feelings of others which is the foundation of 
real politeness. Dr. Johnson speaks of Omai as showing 

+ Omai» 



the deportment of a well-bred gentleman. Omai was not 
a person of consequence, that is a chief, in his own coun- 
try, where the distinctions of rank are all-important. We 
add the following remarks on Omai from 'the New 
Zealandere,* a volume published by the Society for the 
Diffusion of Useful Knowledge : — 

" When Captain Cook, whom he had so long accom- 
panied, left him, during his last voyage, at Huaheine, 
with every provision for his comfort, he earnestly begged 
to return, to England. It was nothing that a grant of 
^land was made to him at the interposition of his English 
friends, — that a house was built and a garden planted for 
his use. He wept bitter tears ; for he was naturally afraid 
that his new riches would make him an object of hatred 
to his countrymen. He took back many valuable pos 
sessions and some knowledge. But he was originally 
one of the common people ; and he soon saw, although 
he was not sensible of it at first, that without rank he 
could obtain no authority. He forgot this, when he was 
away from the people with whom he was to end his 
days ; but he seemed to feel that he should be insecure 
when his protector, Cook, had left their shores. He di- 
vided his presents with the chiefs ; and the great naviga- 
tor threatened them with his vengeance if Omai was 
molested. The reluctance of this man to return to his 
original condition was principally derived from these 
considerations, which were to him of a strictly personal 
nature. The picture which Cowper has drawn of the 
feelings of Omai is very beautiful, and in great part true 
as applied to him as an individual ; but it is not true 
of the mass of savages. The habits amidst which they 
are born may be modified by an intercourse with civilized 
men, but they cannot be eradicated." 



[Omai. Painted by Sir Joshua Reynold! J 



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|May 19, 



• THE WEEK- 
May 22. — This is the anniversary of the birth of Alex- 
ander Pope, a great name in English literature. This 
celebrated poet was born in the year 1688, in Lombard- 
street, London, where his father was a linen-draper. 
The old gentleman was a Homan Catholic ; and so 
strongly was he attached to the political opinions which 
were then generally held by persons of his persuasion, 
that upon the Revolution, which happened only a few 
months after the birth of his son, he resolved to retire 
from business with the money which he had made, and 
which he would not even intrust to the public funds or 
any other investment which would have yielded him in- 
terest, but preferred keeping it in his own hands and 
living upon the capital. The health of his infant son, 
also, who was both weakly and deformed, probably con- 
tributed to determine him to take up his residence in 
the country. They went accordingly to a smail house 
at Binfield, near Windsor Forest — and here the infancy 
and early boyhood of the future poet were passed, under 
few eyes but those of his tenderly attached parents. 
Pope owed his first instructions, not only in reading and 
writing, but even in the elements of literary taste, to his 
father, who, while he was yet very young, used to set 
him tasks in composition, in the performance of which 
he made it a rule to exact the greatest correctness. 
His education, i itirely private; with the 

exception of a sh< he spent, first at a school 

at Twyford, and men at anotner which was kept near 
Hyde Park Corner. While at this seminary he is 
recorded to have set his school-fellows to act a play 
which he had composed of passages selected from 
Ogilby s Homer, intermixed with verses of his own. 
The work just mentioned, and Sandys's Translation of 
Ovid, are said to have been the first books which turned 
his thoughts to the writing of poetry. He was not yet, 
however, twelve years of age. The first poems which 
he published were his Pastorals, which anneared in 
1709, but had been written foui or ;; 

and some of his pieces which afterw re 

of still earlier date. His Essay on criticism, wmch 
was written in 1709 and published in 1711, wa* the 
production which first made him extensively known. 
From the time of its appearance he may be said to have 
taken his place in the front rank of the living writers of 
England; and it was not long before he was placed by 
universal consent at the head of all his contemporaries in 
his own domain of verse, succeeding here to the un- 
rivalled supremacy which had been so long enjoyed 
by Dryden. The Rape of the Lock, the Epistle of 
Eloise to AbelardgMfc Essay on Man, the Duqeiad, to- 
gether with numfl Bninor pieces, and his translations 
of the Iliad and tn^^dyssey, confirmed and sustained 
him throughout his life in the high station which the pub- 
lic voice had thus awarded him. He died at Twicken- 
ham, his favourite and celebrated residence, on the banks 
of the Thames, on the 30th of May, 1744. The moral 
character of Pope was not without considerable blemishes, 
but he had also virtues which claim for him much of our 
respect and esteem, and of these his independence of 
spirit, his firm attachment to his' friends, and above all 
his filial affection, deserve especially to be mentioned. 
As for his poetry it is enough to say that, whatever may 
be its deficiency in certain respects, at least in its more 
peculiar and remarkable characteristics, which are correct- 
ness, brilliancy, and elastic vigour of expression, it has 
never been surpassed or equalled ; that it still retains its 
popularity undiminished, notwithstanding the rivalry of 
other schools which have arisen, or been revived, since it 
first won the public ear ; that its author has had a larger 
number of imitators than perhaps any other writer that 
ever existed ; and that the example of his compositions 
has evidently and undeniably exerted no inconsiderable 
influence on nearly all the English poetry that has been 



written since his time, not excepting the works of some 
of those who would probably be the least disposed to 
acknowledge such an obligation. 

May 23.— On this day in the year 1718 was born at 
Kilbride, in the county of Lanark, in Scotland, the emi- 
nent physician Dr. William Hunter. Dr. Hunter wa* 
originally educated for the Scotch church, but while pui 
suing his studies at the University of Glasgow, was in 
duced to turn his attention to the medical professiou 
In 1737, he and his countryman Dr. William Cullen 
who afterwards acquired so high a distinction as a medi 
cal theorist, entered into partnership together as general 
practitioners, in the village of Hamilton. The scheme 
which they pursued was to attend the classes at the 
University of Edinburgh alternately; the one remaining 
at home one winter, and the other the next. This con- 
nexion continued till 1741, when Hunter came to Lou- 
don, and soon after obtained an engagement as disseclor 
to a public lecturer on anatomy. From this beginning, 
he gradually raised himself to the very top of his pro- 
fession. Dr. Hunter devoted a large portion of the for- 
tune which he had acquired by his lectures and his prac- 
tice to the formation of a magnificent museum of natural 
history and antiquities, which he bequeathed to the U ni- 
versity of Glasgow, where it is now deposited. He 
died on the 30th of March, 1783, in the sixty-fifth year 
of his age. " If I had strength enough to hold a pen,** 
he said to one of his friends, a short time before his dc 
cease, " I would write how easy and pleasant a thing 
it is to die." 



MARRIAGE FESTIVAL OF THE GREEKS IN 

ASIA MINOR. 

(From a Correspondent.] 

At Boudja, a village near Smyrna, I attended a Greek 
marriage with considerable interest The ceremony in 
the church seemed interminably long, and the mumbled 
prayers and nasal singing (for all the Greeks in this 
part, whether in church or out of church, when they 
sing, will sing through the nose) were not very amusing. 
Both bride and bridegroom wore a wreath of flowers 
round their heads, which was pretty and classical : these 
wreaths of flowers were exchanged and re-exchanged 
many times in the course of the ceremony. They had also 
two nuptial rings, one on the hand of the bridegroom 
and one on the bride's, which were slipped from the one 
to the other very frequently, the bride now wearing her 
own, now her husband's, and so on. 

The procession returned from the church to the bride- 
groom's house, preceded by music, instrumental and 
vocal, and followed by all the Greeks of the village. 
This procession closely resembled those we see repre- 
sented in sculpture and on ancient vases, and which 
refer to the customs of the Greeks two or three thousand 
years back. Immediately on her arrival at the house, 
the young bride took her place on a sofa in the corner of 
the room, and there sat with downcast eyes as immove- 
able as a statue, taking no part whatever in the amuse 
ments that were going on, and never even uttering a 
word, except in a whisper, to some female relative or 
dear female friend. She retained the bridal wreath of 
flowers, over which was hung, very gracefully, a veil 
of rose-coloured gauze, which fell on either side her 
head, leaving her face exposed, and reaching her girdle. 
Besides the coloured veil and the wreath, she was fur- 
ther distinguished as a bride by a long bunch of gold 
tinsel cut into slips, which was attached to her hair, and 
dropped down as a gaudy ringlet on either side her 
neck. * 

The merry company immediately began to dance 
and continued from noon till midnight. The room was 
soon very crowded. Every one, as he went in, advatitvJ 
to the bride, whose lap (she was cross-legged .->■-. « <t 
sofa like a Turk) was dnly hollowed for the rcivpi ; 



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and gave her a piece of money, more or leas, according 
to the visitor's circumstances or generosity. The bride 
deposited the money in a small silver box, but neither 
opened her lips nor raised her eyes. Meanwhile the 
dance never ceased, or paused tut for a minute, new 
performers supplying the places of such as were fatigued, 
and keeping up the strange Romaika (the favourite dance 
of all the Greeks), waving, winding, and interweaving 
their handkerchiefs. When the musicians gave symp- 
toms of flagging, or talked of being tired, some spirited 
Palikari would step out of the circle of the dance, take a 
bright rvbich (a small thin Turkish coin) from his 
pocket, wet it between his lips, and then, with a smart 
exclamation, stick it on the forehead of the head per- 
former. This recipe, generally washed down by a 
draught of wine, never seemed to fail ; and on they 
blend and sawed and bawled with increased vigour. 
The instrumental music was always accompanied by one 
voice, of whose beauty not much could be said. 

These marriages and other merry-makings are nearly 
always attended by young Greeks of respectable families, 
who dearly love a dance, no matter whether it be under 
the roof of a prince or of a peasant. These persons 
liberally pay the musicians, but it would be out of all 
character to present the money in any other way than by 
sticking it on the forehead. I would add as another 
genera] remark, that I have frequently seen at Smyrna, 
and the neighbouring villages — at the villages On the 
Bosphorus, and above all, at Prince's Islands, in the 
Sea of Marmora, near Constantinople, — as much female 
beauty and grace, and natural gentility of manners, and 
infinitely more spirit and gaiety at the dances of these 
poor Greeks given in a confined room, illuminated by 
four tallow candles stuck in bottles in the four corners, 
and on a creaking, crazy, wooden floor, than it has been 
my lot to meet with in splendid saloons, luminous with 
chandeliers and wax-lights, and appropriately furnished 
with all the appurtenances which luxury and fashion 
have rendered indispensable to our balls. And more- 
over, though in general the company at these dances 
was composed of no higher characters than boatmen, 
fishermen, vine-dressers, and donkey-drivers, with their 
wives, daughters, sisters, or sweethearts* I never saw 
their frolics degenerate into riot, nor one of them fail in 
respect to any person of superior education or condition, 
who had chosen to be* present, nor, at the same time, 
appear awkward or uncomfortable at the presence of 
such persons. * 

But to return to the marriage at Boudja — what most 
struck me was the automaton-like passiveness of the 
bride, who was young, handsome, and naturally lively. 
But there she sat in the midst of all this dancing, music, 
merriment, and gossip, close in the corner, like a statue 
in its niche, without motion, without giving a sign that 
the busy noisy scene before her reached either of her 
senses. And* during three mortal days (for so long hi 
the marriage festival kept up) was she to persist in this 
unnatural forced position of stupid decorum? amidst 
the joyfulness of those who were called together only 
to celebrate her own happiness ! This forced delicacy 
and decorum, and submisaiveness on the part of the 
young bride, must have been mainly borrowed by the 
Attaiic Greeks from their masters the Turks. 

In the evening, about an hour after the candles had 
been lighted, the wedding repast was served up. Thtsi 
in truth, was frugal enough : it consisted of a large dish 
of ieskake (a Turkish dish made of unground wheat, 
ml ed with a little maize, butter, &c.)» which, among the 
O «ntal Greeks, as well as the Turks, is always eaten at 
weddings, and of a large bowl of pilaff, or boiled rice, in 
which was some mutton hashed. All the females pre- 
sent partook of the hymeneal banquet, (except the bride, 
Who tasted nothing,) in the upper room, the scene of the 
$aadng, on the floor of which, a carpet being spread, 



they sat down in the oriental style. They drank no 
wine. The men retired to a room below, with the bride- 
groom, who helped them to the same condiments as had 
been served up stairs ; and their repast was finished by 
the circulation of the wine-cup, in which the health and 
happiness of the new-married couple were drunk, with 
the usual wish or prayer, never omitted by the Greeks, 
that no evil eye or other bad influence might interfere 
with the happy consummation of the nuptials. 

As soon as the repast was finished — and it occupied 
ier of an hour — the carpets were with- 
dances re-commenced. During a pause 
two young men and two young women 
(the latter from the Island of Scio, and very pretty) 
amused the company with singing; and surprise may 
be excited, considering where they were, in the midst of 
Turks, by their heedlessness or boklness, when it is men- 
tioned that the themes of their songs were a|l patriotic — 
the praises of Ypsilanti, the victories of Colocotrnni, the 
bravery and address of the Turk-burning Canaris, the 
death of the heroic Marco Botzari, &c. 

In the course of the evening the old Agha of the vil- 
lage came in with two of the Turks of his guard. He 
quietly seated himself on a low chair in a corner of the 
room, had his pipe lighted, and commenced a process of 
silent smoking, which he hardly interrupted by a word, 
except " Atesh " (tire !) when his pipe went out, during 
the two hours he honoured the Greeks with his company. 
His guards, two young Yt becks, or mountaineers, from 
the interior of Asia Minor, stood near the door with 
dilated eyes and open mouths, wondering, no doubt, at 
the liberty of the Greek women, but evidently delighted 
with the joyous scene. 

I was informed by a young lady, (a European pre- 
sent,) that the Agha had furnished the materials for the 
wedding feast. ' This looked paternal and pretty, but 
not so the context — he was to receive a large portion of 
the monev Dresented to the bride by her friends and 
iearly all the peasants of the vil- 
young Greeks from Smyrna were 
F .<^..», urn on w»^ x' ranks who had country houses 
there, went, or sent a few piastres, the old Turk must 
have Been a considerable gainer by the transaction. 

This marriage was celebrated, as they nearly all are, 
on a Sunday. On the Monday and Tuesday following 
the same amusements were kept up; the bridegroom 
and his friends, male and female, making processions 
through tjie village with music and dancing. The bride 
was not allowed to go out of the house until the Sunday 
following. 



THE 



MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF 
BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Written by Himself, 

AND CONTINUED BY HIS GRANDSON, W. T. FrANELIN, 
COMPRISING HIS PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE AND. HI 8 

Select Works. Third Edition, in 6 vols. London, 1818. 

fr would be difficult to select a happier subject for the 
biographer than the life of the great American Philoso- 
pher and Statesman whose name adorns this title-page. 
ft is not merely that the history <gf Franklin is intimately 
interwoven with that of one of the mightiest political 
movements which the world has ever witnessed, and 
that it was in great part by his hands that the foundations 
were laid of the powerful and flourishing empire which 
we now see established in his country. If this were 
all, his life, to the generality of readers, would be rather 
a tale of wonder than a lesson. But the achiever of 
the high political results to which we have alluded, 
wan not more remarkable or interesting as a public 
Character than as a private individual ; and in the latter 
capacity the record of his progress from boyhood to old 




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[May 19, 1832 



age is full of instruction for all. Happily we are in posses 
sion of this record in the most authentic and desirable 
form, namely, as it was drawn up by his own pen. This 
is not only, as all will acknowledge, by far the most allur- 
ing and delightful sort of biography, but it is also, we are 
inclined to think, upon the whole the most satisfying and 
useful. It is true, that a man in giving us an account 
of his own actious, even supposing him to be perfectly 
lionest and disposed to tell us the truth, may be some- 
times led by self-love or self-ignorance to deceive both 
his readers and himself. But this cannot be done to any 
considerable or important extent, in such a manner as to 
impose upon persons of ordinary observation and judg- 
ment. The facts which are stated will in general suffi- 
ciently indicate the real motives which influenced the 
actor ; and much may be gathered even from the mere 
manner in which he tells his story, and from the thou- 
sand delicate* and indescribable but yet universally in- 
telligible evidence, of feeling and character, which, in 
such a communication, will unavoidably slip out in a 
man's very style and mode of expressing himself. In 
the present instance there is a great deal of this. Frank- 
lin's narrative is coloured all over with the moral and 
intellectual character of the man. And as for the truth 
and correctness of the account which he gives of his mar- 
vellous rise in life, and the noble triumph which he 
accomplished over the formidable array of difficulties by 
which he was so long beget, if we had no other ground 
for believing what he tells us, the known and unques- 
tioned facts of the case would speak for themselves. 
There is no doubt that he did raise -himself from the 
lowest poverty and obscurity to wealth, eminence, and 
fame ; and there is nothing in his narrative more sur- 
prising than this certain and acknowledged reality which 
it is its purpose to explain. 

Although, therefore, there are other lives of this most 
distinguished person, and some of them written with 
considerable ability, as well as containing some things 
which are not to be found in his own account, those 
who wish fully to understand either his character or the 
methods by which he commanded the extraordinary 
success that attended most of his undertakings, should 
read and study the latter. It has been frequently priAed ; 
but never correctly, and as it came from the pen of the 
author, till it appeared in the present publication, super- 
intended, as the title-page states, by his grandson. The 
part of the Life, however, written by Dr. Franklin him- 
self, occupies only about the half of the first volume of 
this collection. The remaining half of that volume and 
the whole of the second consist of the continuation by 
his grandson, but embrace also many letters and other 
original documents. This continuation forms a valuable 
contribution to the history of a most interesting and 
important period, comprehending, especially, a curious 
detail of circumstances which preceded the commence- 
ment of the American war, and also an account of 
Franklin's conduct afterwards as American ambassador 
at Paris. .The contents of volumes third and fourth 
may also be considered as supplementary to the Memoirs, 
consisting as they do of the correspondence between 
Dr. Franklin and his friends, divided into three parts ; 
in the first of which are given letters on miscellaneous 
subjects; in the second, letters relating to American 
politics ; and, in the third, letters relating to the nego- 
tiations which preceded the peace between America and 
Great Britain. Many of these letters, especially those 
in the first part, are among the author's very happiest 
compositions. To those respecting public affairs, the 
i editor has appended ample explanatory notes. Finally, 
the fifth and sixth volumes consist of a collection of the 
principal literary remains of Dr. Franklin ; many of 
which had not before appeared in print, and arc still not 
to be found in any other publication. Besides numerous 
political and miscellaneous papers, these volumes contain 
a large selection of the author's letters and .tracts on 



philosophical subjects, most of them printed here for the 
first time. The remarks and accounts of experiments 
are illustrated, where necessary, by diagrams and maps. 
The regular price of this book in boards is 3/. 12*., 
but it may probably be often got for considerably less 
money. Even at the lowest price, however, at which it 
is likely to be met with, it is hardly a book for many indi- 
viduals to purchase ; but it is one of the very best sets 
of volumes that can be placed in a subscription library. 
Few books are calculated to be perused with greater 
avidity than the Life and Correspondence of Franklin 
by all classes of readers, and hardly any books of enter- 
tainment will be found at the same time more exciting 
or more useful. The biography of Dr. Franklin, written 
(though not so correct as in the edition here noticed) by 
himself, may be purchased with several cheap selections 
from his works. 



" Pray, Mr. A^ernethy, what is a cure for the gout?" 
was the question of an indolent and luxurious citizen. 
"Live upon sixpence, a day — and earn it* was the pithy 
answer. — Annual Biography and Obituary for 1832. 

Popular Poison. — When pure ardent spirits are taken 
into tne stomach, they cause irritation, which is evinced by 
warmth and pain experienced in that' organ ; and next, in- 
flammation of the delicate coats of this part, and sometimes 
gangrenes. They act in the same manner as poisons. Be- 
sides the local injury they produce, they act on the nerves 
of the stomach which run to the brain, and, if taken in large 
quantities, cause insensibility, stupor, irregular convulsive 
action, difficulty of breathing, profound sleep, and often sud- 
den death. — The habitual use of ardent spirits causes a slow 
inflammation of the stomach and liver, which proceeds stea- 
dily, but is often undiscovered, till too late for relief. — Lon- 
don Medical Surgical Journal. 

Average Annual Grant of Patents in England in several 
reigns: — 



Charles II 5 

James EL. 4 

William and Mary ... 8 

Anne 2 



George I. , 7 

George II 8 

George III 61 

George IV 136 



The busy activity which distinguished the reign of George 
IV., more than doubles what was considered an era of great 
commercial activity and mechanical invention in the reign 
of George III., and assumes a very high and lofty character 
when compared with the reigns of the two preceding mo- 
narchs of that name. In the year 1825 two hundred and 
forty-nine patents were granted. It was a year replete with 
interest in the history of speculation and adventurous enter- 
prises of all kinds, and cannot but be looked at by the phi- 
losophic observer of men and things, without the deepest 
feelings of astonishment and regret. Many salutary lessons 
may be drawn from the year 1825. It was a year of magni- 
ficent and splendid hopes ; but few of them, however, were 
realized. Statesmen may derive nselul 'lessons from it, and 
so may the merchant and manufacturer, and the industrious 
mechanic. The sober pursuits of industry produce, in the 
long run, more solid and substantial pleasures than all the 
gilded visions which artful and interested theorists can supply. 

The most valuable part of every man's education is that 
which he receives from himself, especially when the active* 
energy of his character makes ample amends for the want 
of a more finished course of study. 

Suffer not your spirit to be subdued by misfortunes; but, 
on the contrary, steer right onward, with a courage gwater 
than your fate seems to allow. 



LONDON i— CHARLES KNIGHT, PA^L-MALL KAST. 

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied TVholeiale by the following 
Booksellers :— 



London, Groombridob, Paoytr alley, 

Paternoiter-Row. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Wrstley and Co. 
Derby, Wimcini aud Son. , 
Hull, Stephen*)*. 
Leeds, Bainh and Co. 
Liverpool, Willmer and Smith. 



Manchetter, Robixsom. and Wrwt a 

Simmi. 
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Ch ARiarr. 
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Edinburgh Oliver and Bora 
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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[May 26, 1832. 



BUTTER. 



The Arabs are the greatest consumers of butter in the 
world. Burckhardt tells us, that it is a common practice 
among all classes to dritik, every morning, a cupful of 
melted butter or ghee ; and they use it in an infinite 
variety of other ways. The taste for it is universal. *«d 
even the poorest Tndiviuu^.s -will spend half their dally 
income that they may have butter for dinner, and butter 
in the morning. Large quantities are annually shipped 
from Cosseir, Sonakin, and Massona, on the west coast 
of the Red Sea, for Pjidda and other Arabian ports. 

We shall notice in our Supplementary «umber for 
this month the very valuable publication, M'Culloch's 
Dictionary of Commerce, from which the above account 
is extracted. 



[Yorkshire Cow.] 

The various circumstances attending the introduction 
and use of butter in antiquity, have -been investigated 
by Beckmann with great learning and industry. The 
conclusion at which he arrives is, "that butter was 
not used either by the Greeks or Romans in cooking, 
as is everywhere customary at present. We never find 
it mentioned by Galen or any other ancient medical 
writer, as food, though they have spoken of it as appli- 
cable to other purposes. No notice is taken of it by 
the Roman epicure, Apicius, who wrote on cookery ; 
nor is there anything said of it in that respect by the 
authors who treat of agriculture, though they have given 
us very particular information with respect to milk, 
cheese, and oil. 

" This, as has been remarked by others, may be easily 
accounted for, by the ancients having accustomed them- 
selves to the use of good oil ; and in like manner butter 
is very little employed at present in Italy, Spain, Portu- 
gal, and the southern parts of France* — Butter is very 
extensively used in this and most other northern coun- 
tries ; that of England and Holland is reckoned the best. 

The production and consumption of butter in Great 
Britain is very great. — The "consumption in the metro- 
polis may, it is believed, be averaged at about one half 
pound per week for each individual, being at the rate 
of 26 lbs. a year ; and supposing the population to 
amount to 1,450,000, the total annual consumption 
would (on this hypothesis) be 37,700,000 lbs. or 
16,830 tons : but to this may be added 4,000 tons for 
the butter required for the victualling of ships and other 
purposes, making the total consumption in round num- 
bers 21,000 tons, or 47,040,000 lbs., which, at lOd. 
per pound, would be worth 1,960,000/. 

The average produce per cow of the batter dairies is 
estimated by Mr. Marshall at 168 lbs. a year; so that, 
supposing we are pearly right in the* above estimate, 
about 280,000 cows will be required to produce an ade- 
quate supply of butter for the London market. 

Butter made in hot countries is generally liquid. In 
India it is called ghee, and is mostly prepared from the 
milk of buffaloes * : it is usually conveyed in duppers or 
bottles made of hide, each of which contains from ten to 
forty gallons. Ghee is an article of considerable com- 
mercial importance in many parts of India. 

• The most common of the Indian breeds of the ox tribe is the 
Zebuy a humped variety, of which the smallest specimens are not 
bigger than a rull-grown mastiff, while others are found almost as 
large as the finest English cow. They are all useful, both as af- 
foiding food, and as beasts of burthen. 

Vol. I. 



[Zebus : from Specimens in the Zoological Gardens.] 



OP PEACE.— FROM LORD CLARENDON. 

It was a very proper answer to him who asked, why any 
man should be delighted ^with beauty ? that it was a 
question that none but a blind man could ask ; since 
any beautiful object doth so much attract the sight of 
all men, that it is in no man's power not to be pleased 
with it. Nor can any aversion or malignity towards the 
object irreconcile the eyes from looking upon it ; as a 
man who hath an envenomed and mortal hatred against 
another who hath a most graceful and beautiful person, 
cannot hinder his eye from being delighted to behold 
that person, though that delight js far from going to the 
heart, as no man's malice towards an excellent musician 
can keep his ear from being pleased with his music. 
No man can ask how or why men come to be delighted 
with peace but he who is without natural bowels, — who 
is deprived of all those affections which can only make 
life pleasant to him. Peace is that harmony in the state 
that health is in the body. No honour, no profit, no 
plenty can make him happy who is sick with a fever in 
his blood, and with deductions and aches in his joints 
and bones; but health restored gives a relish to the 
other blessings, and is Tery merry without them : no 
kingdom can flourish or be at ease in which there is 
no peace, — which only makes men dwell at home and 
enjoy the labour of their own hands, and improve all 
the advantages which the air, and the climate, and the 
soil administer to them ; and all which yield no com- 
fort where there is no peace. God himself reckons 
health the greatest blessing he can bestow upon man- 



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kind, and peace the greatest comfort and ornament he 
can confer upon states, which are a multitude of men 
gathered together. They who delight most in war are 
so much ashamed of it, that they pretend to desire 
nothing but peace, — that their heart is set upon nothing 
else. When Caesar was engaging all the world in war, 
he wrote to Tully, " There was nothing worthier of an 
honest man than to have contention with nobody." It 
was the highest aggravation that the prophet could find 
out in the description of the greatest wickedness, that 
" the way of peace they knew not ;" and the greatest 
punishment of all their crookedness and perverseue^ 
was, that '* they snould not kiw podec." A greater 
curse cannot befall the most wicked nation than to be 
deprived of peace. There is nothing of real and sub- 
stantial comfort in this world but what is the product of 
peace ; and whatsoever w»e may lawfully and innocently 
take delight in is the fruit and effect of peace. The 
solemn service of God, and performing our duty to Him 
in the exercise of regular devotion, which is the greatest 
business of our life, and in which we ought to take most 
delight, is the issue of peace. War breaks all that order, 
interrupts all that devotion, and even extinguished all 
that zeal which peace had kindled in us; lays waste 
the dwelling place of God as well as of man ; and in- 
troduces and propagates opinions and practice as much 
against Heaven as against earth, and erects a deity that 
delights in nothing but cruelty and blood. Are we 
pleased with the enlarged commerce and society of large 
and opulent cities, or with the retired pleasures of the 
country ? do we love stately palaces and noble houses, 
or take delight in pleasant groves and woods, or fruit- 
ful gardens, which teach and instruct nature to produce 
and bring forth more fruits, and flowers, and plants, 
than her own store can supply hev with ? all this we owe 
to peace ; and the dissolution of this peace disfigures all 
this beauty, and, in a short time, covei> and buries all 
this order and delight in ruin and rubbish. Finally, 
have we any content, satisfaction, and joy in the con- 
versation of each other, in the knowledge and under- 
standing of those arts and sciences which more adorn 
mankind than all those buildings and plantations do the 
fields and grounds on which they stand? even this is 
the blessed effect and legacy of peace ; and war lays our 
natures and manners as waste as our gardens and our 
habitations ; and we can as carily preserve the beauty 
of the one as the integrity of the other under the cursed 
jurisdiction of drums and trumpets. 



DR. FRANKLIN'S MORAL CODE. 
The great American philosopher and statesman, Hviija- 
min Franklin, drew up the folio; viiur list of mora! virtues, 
to which he paid constant and earnest attention, and 
thereby made himself a better and a happj-r man : — 
Temperance. Eat not. to fulness; drink not to elevation. 
Silence. . . Speak not but what may Itencfit others or 

yourself; avoid trilling "convert lio a. 
Order . . . Let all your things have tl.uir phiees; let eaeh 

part of your business have its tinav 
Resolution . Resolve to perform what you ought ; perform 

without fail what you resolve. 
Frugality . . Make no expense, but do good to others or 

yourself; that is, waste nothing. 
Industry . . Lose no time; be always employed in some- 
thing useful ; cut off all u nnece'ssary actions. 
Sincerity . . Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and 

justly ; and if you speak, speak accordingly. 
Justice . • . Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting "the 

benefits that are your duty. 
Moderation . Avoid extremes ; forbear resenting injuries. 
Cleanliness . Suffer no unclcanliness in body, clothes, or 

habitation. 
.Tranquillity. Be not disturbed about trifles, or at accidents 

common or unavoidable. 
Humflitv. . Imitate Jesus Christ. 



The question, What 
good shall I do to-« 
day? 



The same great man likewise drew up the following 
plan for the regular employment of his time ; examining 
himself each morning and evening as to what he had to 
do, what he had done, or left undone ; by which practice 
he was better able to improve his future conduct - — 

Morning. Hours. , 

! Rise, wash, and address Almighty 
God! contrive the day's business, 
and take the resolution of the day ; 
prosecute the present study; and 
breakfast 

9 ) 

12J 

llRead or look over my accounts, 

2 J and dine. 

3) 

4 

& } Work. 

6 

7) 

Evening. Howri. 

The question, What goodf fl ")Put things in their places 
have I done to-day ? what I ° I amusement ; supper ; exa 
have I left undone which If r«n,*««*;^« ^ 
ought to have done ? I 



fmination of the day; ad- 
dress the Almighty 



Sleep. 



A steady perseverance in some plan for the arrange- 
ment of our time, adapted to circumstances, cannot fail 
improving our general conduct in life, and rendering 
us better members of society, and better Christians. 



PROGRESS OP EDUCATION IN ASIA MINOR. 

An American missionary and his wife have established 
a school at Smyrna, for the instruction of children of 
both sexes in the English language, and in general ele 
mentary education, after the most approved system 
This school is chiefly attended by the children of Eng 
lish parents settled in the country. It must be productive 
of important good ; for it is a positive fact, that only a 
few years ago, from the want of some such establishment, 
and the carelessness of their fathers, many of whom had 
married women of the country, these children were not 
only sadly deficient in those rudiments which the poorest 
among us now acquire, but positively ignorant of the 
English language. You would meet, for example, a Mr. 
John this, and a Miss Mary that, with names the most 
English, who would not know how to address to you a 
single decent sentence in the idiom of their fathers ; and 
it need scarcely be added, that in English character, 
intelligence, and energy, they were almost equally defi 
cient. Two or three respectable families of Dutch de- 
scent also send their children to this school. 

The other European settlers, who are nearly all Ca- 
tholics, have not yet had the good sense to overcome 
their religious prejudices, and to send their children to 
be educated by a Protestant minister; but, even confined 
as they are, we look upon the labours of the respectable 
American missionary in this part of the world as praise- 
worthy and important. 

What, however, is of still more importance at Smyrna, 
as regards numbers and a whole people, is the settlement 
of a good Greek seminary for the education of the Vouno- 
Greeks. The British consul has been recently allowed 
to take this establishment under his special protection ; 
and, with the arms of England over its gateway, it has 
now nothing to fear from the Turks, but goes on teach- 
ing steadily and quietly. 

An intelligent friend, who was in England a abort 



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time ago, delighted us with an account of an annual 
examination of the pupils of this Smyrna school. The 
Greeks, who, with all their defects — defects that have 
mainly resulted from the oppression of the Turks, and 
their own want of education — are a quick, intelligent 
people, curious, and eager for information, crowded the 
place of assembly, and when, in the course of the ex- 
amination, a son, or a younger brother, or any young re- 
lative or friend, acquitted himself well, their satisfaction 
and glee were forcibly expressed by their animated coun- 
tenances. It added to our satisfaction to learn that many 
of this audience were common sailors or artisans — 
a proof that education is, as it ought to be, cheap, and 
within the means of the industrious poor. A number of 
the youths thus educated are so far advanced in the study 
of the ancient Greek (which glorious language will be 
gradually restored to common use, as the modern Greeks 
advance in civilization), that they get up and play scenes 
from the tragedies of Euripides. To these representa- 
tions the Greeks of Smyrna throng with the most lively 
delight. They do not at present understand one-third 
of what they hear, but they will " live and learn." 

Queen Elizabeth. — Lord Chief Justice Coke told this 
anecdote of Queen Elizabeth upon the bench : — " When I 
was the Queen's Attorney-General she said to me, * I un- 
derstand my counsel will strongly urge the Queen's prero- 
gative, but my will is, that they stand for our Lady the 
Truth, rather than for our Lady the Queen, unless that our 
Lady the Queen hath the truth on her side/ And she also 
used to give this in charge many times, when any one was 
called to any office by her, that they should ever stand for 
the Truth rather than for the Queen." This was told thir- 
teen years after Queen Elizabeth's death ; yet too many 
facts prove that she was accustomed to violate her own 
precepts. _ 

Good Effects of a Predilection for some celebrated Author. 
— A predilection for some great author, among the vast 
number which must transiently occupy our attention, seems 
to be the happiest preservative for our taste. Accustomed to 
that excellent author whom we have chosen for our favourite, 
- we may possibly resemble him in this intimacy. It is to be 
feared, that if we do not form such a permanent attachment, 
we may be acquiring knowledge, while our enervated taste 
becomes less and less lively. Taste embalms the knowledge, 
which otherwise cannot preserve itself. Ho who has long 
been intimate with one great author will always be found to 
be a formidable antagonist ; he has saturated his mind with 
the excellences of genius; he has shaped his faculties in- 
sensibly to himself by ills model ; and he is like a man who 
ever sleeps in armour, ready at a moment ! The old Latin 
proverb reminds us of this fact — Cave ab famine unius 
libri: be cautious of the man of one book. — Curiosities of 
Literature. 

THE WEEK. 
May 27. — The anniversary of the birth at Florence, iu 
the year 1265, of Dante Aliqhieri, the great father of 
Italian, and, it may almost be said, of modern European 
poetry. Dante, whose family was of noble descent, was 
carefully educated in all the learning of his age, and 
began to compose Latin poetry in his boyhood. For- 
tunately he relinquished the use of that language when 
he grew older, and applied himself to composition iu his 
native Tuscan tongue — a circumstance not more fortu- 
nate for his own fame than for the literature of his 
country and the world. His life, passed among the 
political agitations of the time, was a busy, turbulent, 
and, upon the whole, unhappy one ; the party in the 
state to which he attached himself having been defeated 
by their opponents, and he himself sentenced to be burnt 
alive — a fate from which he only preserved himself by 
remaining in banishment, and flying from one place of 
refuge to another. It was while he was thus a pro- 
scribed exile and wanderer that he is supposed to have 
written his famous * Com media Divina, or Vision of 
Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise,' a poem which has 



ranked him with the greatest masters of his art He 
finally settled at Ravenna, and died there on the 1 4 th 
of September, 1321, after a short illness, in the extre- 
mity of which he composed his own epitaph, in six 
rhyming Latin hexameters, which were engraved upon 
his tomb. Byron, in the fourth canto of * Childe Ha- 
rold's Pilgrimage,' alludes to the foreign death and se- 
pulchre of the great poet in the following lines : — 
" Ungrateful Florence ! Daute sleeps Afar, 
Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore ; 
.Thy factions, in their worse tnan civh war, 
Proscribed the bard whose name for evermore 
Their children'i children would in vain adore 
With the remorse of ages." 
An old author mentions an anecdote of Dante, which 
forcibly illustrates the studious ardour of his mind. 
Having gone one day to the house of a bookseller, from 
one of whose windows he was to be a spectator of a public 
show exhibited in the square below, he by chafnee took 
up a book, in which he soon got so absorbed that on 
returning home, after the spectacle was over, he solemnly 
declared he had neither seen nor heard anything what- 
ever oi' all that had taken place before his eyes. 

May 28.— The birth-day of the late Right Honourable 
William Pitt, second son of the great Earl of Chatham, 
who was born in 1759. He was the favourite of his 
father, who even in his childhood, it is said, used 
to place him before him on a table, and encourage 
him to harangue with oratorical form and solemnity. 
He afterwards used to attend the debates in the House 
of Commons, where it was his practice, in listening 
to all the more distinguished speakers, to consider 
how every successive argument they used might be 
answered. He was educated for the bar, and went the 
western circuit once or twice ; but being introduced into 
Parliament almost as soon as he was of age, he forthwith 
abandoned everything else for politics. On the dissolu- 
tion of the Rockingham administration, in 1782, Mr. 
Pitt became Chancellor of the Exchequer, while yet 
little more than twenty-two years of age ; and before the 
close of the following year he was prime-minister. From 
this period his life belongs to the history of his country, 
whose affairs he continued to direct, with the exception 
of the three >ears, from 1801 to 1804, till his death, in 
the forty-seventh year of his age, on the 2:Jd of January, 
1806. No man ever gave himself up more entirely to his 
high office than Mr. Pitt did. To his public duties he 
sacrificed alike his health and his fortune; and, owing to 
entire inattention to his private affairs, died not only - 
poor, but encumbered with heavy debts, which Parlia- 
ment voted a grant of money to pay. 

May 29,—ThcIlestoratioj! of King Charles //. — By 
an act of parliament made in the twelfth year of the 
reign of Charles II. (the year of his restoration), the 
church still celebrates the return to the throne of this 
monarch. 

May 31. — Ascension Day. Holy Thursday. — On 
this day the church celebrates the ascension of our 
Saviour. It is usual for the bounds of parishes to be 
perambulated on this festival. 

June 1. — The birth-day of the celebrated French 
painter, Nicolas Poussin, who was born at Andelys. in 
Normandy, in 1 594. Poussin, whose family was poor, 
though ancient and respectable, endured many priva- 
tions and hardships while studying his art, and, before 
his merits had become known, was frequently reduced 
to such straits as to be obliged to sell his pictures for 
little more than what the colours had cost him. But, 
even after he attained celebrity, Poussin made but little 
money, and lived in great simplicity. It is he of whom 
it is told, that having one evening received a visit from 
a certain bishop, he was iighting him down stairs 
himself, when the bishop said, " I much pity jou, 
Poussin, that you have not one servant." — *' And F you, 
my Lord," replied the painter, " that you have so 



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[May 26, 



many." Poussin died at Rome, in 1665, at the age 
of seventy-one. 



[JNicoias rousuin.j 
THfr BRITISH MUSEUM.— No. 2. 

THE MEMNON. 



Those who visit the British Museum cannot fail to have 
observed in the room of Egyptian antiquities, a colossal 
statue of which only the head and breast remain. It 
is numbered 66 in the catalogue and on the stone. 

Though this statue is commonly called the •• younger 
Memnon," a name to which for convenience we shall 



adhere, there is no reason in the world for caHing it so, 
but a mistake of Norden, a Danish traveller who visited 
Egypt in 1737. He then saw this statue in its entire 
state, seated on a chair, in precisely the same attitude as 
the black breccia figure, No. 38, but lying with its face 
on the ground ; to which accident indeed the preserva- 
tion of the features is no doubt mainly due. Several 
ancient writers, and among them the Greek Geographer 
Strabo, speak of a large temple at Thebes on the west 
side of the Nile, to which they gave the name of (he 
Memnonium, or Memnon's temple. Norden fancied 
that the building, amidst whose ruins he saw this statue, 
was the ancient Memnonium ; though he supposed, 
that another statue of much larger dimensions than this 
in the Museum, and now lying in numerous fragments 
in the same place, was the great Memnon statue, A of 
which some ancient writers relate the following /act — 
that at sun-rise when the rays first struck the statue, it 
sent forth a sound something like that of the snapping 
of the string of a lute. 

It is now generally admitted that the real statue of 
Memnon is neither the large one still lying at Thebes 
in fragments, nor this statue in the Museum, which 
came out of the same temple — but another statue still 
seated in its original position on the plain of Thebes, 
and showing by numerous Greek apd Latin inscriptions 
on the legs, that it was the statue of which Strabo, 
Pausanias, and other ancient writers speak. The entire 
black statue, No. 38, is also a Memnon statue, for it re- 
sembles in all respects the great colossus with the in- 
scriptions on its legs, and it has also the name of 
Memnon written on it and enclosed in an oblong ring, on 
each side of the front part of the seat, and also on the 
back. 

If this colossus in the Museum (No. 66) was entire 
in 1737, it may be asked how came it to be broken ? 
We cannot say further than the following statement : — 

Belzoni, whose name must be fresh in the recollection 
of most people, went to Egypt in 1815, intending to 
propose to the Pasha some improved mechanical con- 
trivances for raising water from the river in order to irri- 
gate the fields. Owing to various obstacles this scheme 
did not succeed, and Belzoni determined to pay a visit 
to Upper Egypt to see the wonderful remains of its 
temples. Mr. Salt, then British Consul in Egypt, and 
Lewis Burckhardt, commissioned Belzoni to b'ripg this 
colossal head from Thebes. Belzoni went up tbk river, 
and landing at Thebes found the statue exactly in the 
place where the Consul's instructions described- it h> be*. 
It was lying *' near the remains of its body and chair, 
with its face upwards, and apparently smiling on me at 
the thought of being taken to England. I must say 
that my expectations were exceeded by its beauty, but 
not by its size. I observed that it must have 'been abso- 
lutely the same statue as is mentioned by Norden, lying 
in his time with the face downwards, which must have 
been the cause of its preservation. I will not venture to 
assert who separated the bust from the rest of the body 
by an explosion, or by whom the bust has been turned 
face upwards." 

It will be observed that the left shoulder of this 
figure is shattered, and that there is a large hole drilled 
in the right shoulder. We believe both are the work of 
the French who visited Thebes during the occupation of 
Egypt by the French army in 1800 ; and there is no 
doubt that Belzoni in the above extract means to attri- 
bute to them the separation of the head and shoulders 
from the rest of the body. In the magnificent work on 
Egyptian Antiquities, which has been published at Paris, 
there is a drawing of this head, which is pretty correct, 
except that the hole and the whole right shoulder are 
wanting. It seems that they drew the colossal bust in 
that form which it would have assumed, had they blown 
♦BeUoai's Narrative. London, 1820, p. 39. 



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off the right shoulder. From what cause it happened 
we do not know, but they left the colossus behind them ; 
and Belzoni, alone and unaided, accomplished what the 
French had unsuccessfully attempted. 

All the implements that Belzonf had for removing 
this colossus were fourteen poles, eight of which were 
employed in making a car for the colossus, four ropes of 
palm-leaves, four rollers, and no tackle of any descrip- 
tion. With these sorry implements and such wretched 
workmen as the place could produce, he contrived to move 
the colossus from the ruins where it lay to the banks of 
the Nile, a distance considerably more than a mile. But 
it was a no less difficult task to place the colossus on board 
4 boat, the bank of the river being " more than fifteen 
ifet above the level of the water, wlueh had retired at 
least a hundred feet from it." Tins, however, was effected 
by making a sloping causeway, along which the heavy 
mass descended slowly till it came to the lower part, 
where, by means of four poles, a kind of bridge was 
made, having one end resting on the centre parts of the 
boat and the other on the inclined plane. Thus the 
colossus was moved into the boat without any danger of 
tilting it over by pressing too much on one side. 

From Thebes it was carried down the river to Rosetta 
and thence to Alexandria, a distance of more than 400 
miles : from the latter place it was embarked for England. 

The material of this colossus is a fine-grained granite, 
which is found in the quarries near the southern boun- 
dary of Egypt, from which masses of enosmous size may be 
procured free from any split or fracture. These quarries 
supplied the Egyptians with the principal materials for 
their colossal statues and obelisks, some of which in an 
unfinished form may still be seen in the granite quarries 
of Assouan. There is considerable variety in the quali- 
ties of this granite, as we may see from the specimens 
in the Museum, some of which consist of much larger 
component parts than others, aud in dillerent propor- 
tions ; yet all of them admit a fine polish. The colossal 
head, No. 8, opposite to the Memnon, and No. 2, com- 
monly called an altar, will serve to explain our meaning. 

This Memnon's bust consists of one piece uf stone, 
of two different colours, of which the sculptor has ju- 
diciously applied the red part to form the face. Though 
there is a style of sculpture which we may properly call 
Egyptian as distinguished from aud inferior to the 
Greek, and though this statue clearly belongs to this 
Egyptian style, it surpasses as a work of art most other 
statues from that country by a peculiar sweetness of 
expression and a finer outline of face. Though the eye- 
brows ate hardly prominent enough for our taste, the 
nose somewhat too rounded, and the lips rather thick, it 
is impossible to deny that there is great beauty stamped 
on the countenance. Its profile, when viewed from va- 
rious points, will probably show some new beauties to 
those only accustomed to look at it in front. 

The position of the ear in all Egyptian statues that 
we* have had an opportunity of observing is very pecu- 
liar, being always too high ; and the ear itself is rather 
large. We might almost infer that there was some 
national peculiarity in this member from seeing it so in- 
variably placed in the same singular position. The 
appendage to the chin is common in Egyptian colossal 
statues, and is undoubtedly intended to mark the beard, 
the symbol of manhood : and it may be observed not 
only on numerous statues, but also on painted reliefs, 
where we frequently see it projecting from the end of 
the chin and not attached to the breast, but slightly 
curved upwards. Osir >jects of 

Egyptian adoration, is but the 

beard is generally only i figure, 

being, for the most pa itted on 

naked ones. The colo 38, have 

both lost their beards, mere •» a cuiussau ucad in the 
Museum, No. 57, that is peculiar in having the upper 



margin ofjthe beard represented by incisions on the chin 
after the fashion of Greek bearded statues. It is the 
only instance we have seen, either in reality or in any 
drawing, of a colossus with a genuine beard. 

There is more variety in the head-dresses of colossal 
statues than in their beards. No. 8, opposite the Mem- 
non, has the high cap which occurs very often on Egyptian 
standing colossi which are placed with their backs to 
pilasters. No. 38 has the flat cap fitting close to the 
head and descending behind, very much like the pigtails 
once in fashion. The Memnon head-dress differs from 
both of these, and has given rise to discussions, called 
learned, into which we cannot enter here. 

On the forehead of this colossus may be seen the re- 
mains of the erect serpent, the emblem of royalty, which 
always indicates a deity or a royal personage. This 
erect serpent may be traced on various monuments of 
the Museum, and perhaps occurs more frequently than 
any single sculptured object. 

Our limits prevent us from going into other details, 
hut we have perhaps said enough to induce some of our 
readers to look more carefully at this curious specimen 
of Egyptian art; and to examine thf rest of the orna- 
mental parts. The follqrfng are some of the principal 
dimensions :— ** * 

The whole height of the bust from the top of the head- ft. in. 
dress to the lowest part of the fragment, measured 
behind . . 8 

Hound the shoulders and breast, above ...... 15 

Height of the head from the upper part of th* head- 
dress to the end of the beard 6 

From the forehead to the chin 3 

Judging from these dimensions, the figure in its 
entire state would be about 24 feet high as seated on its 
chair ; which is about half the height of the real Mem- 
non, who still sits majestic on his ancient throne, and 
throws hjs long shadow at sun-rise over the plain of 



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THE FLUTE-PLAYER; 

A TALE. 
w 0h ! bless'd with temper, whose unclouded ray 
Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day I 
She who ne'er answers till a husband cools, 
Or if she rules him, never shows she rules ; 
Charms by acceptiug, by submitting sways, 
Yet has her humour most when she obeys." — Pope. 

Harry Jones was one of the smartest young men of the 
tillage in which he was born. His parents were indus- 
trious and contented ; and he himself was of that active 
And cheerful disposition which derives a pleasure from 
habitual employment, and requires no excitement of vice 
or folly in the hours of leisure. Harry Jones was by 
trade a cabinet- maker. He was a skiltiil and ingenious 
workman, and his master delighted to exhibit the tables 
and drawers which Harry manufactured, as the best 
specimens of his workshop. He lived in a small town 
to which the refinement of large societies was almost 
entirely unknown. On a summer evening he might be 
distinguished on a neighbouring green as the best bowler 
at cricket ; and at the annual revel he could try a fall with 
any lad of the surrounding villages. But his chief delight 
was his proficiency as a flute-player. He made himself 
master of the newest country-dances; and occasionally 
astonished his friends with some more elaborate piece of 
harmony, which required considerable science and taste 
in its execution. He was a distinguished member of the 
band of volunteer performers at his parish church ; and 
had several times received the praises of the clergyman 
for the skill with which he regulated the less practised 
abilities of his companions. All these recreations were 
in themselves innocent ; and Harry Jones had sufficient 
sense and virtue not to permit them to divert his atten- 
tion from the duties of his occupation, nor to make him 
forget that life had more important objects than the 
pursuit even of sinless amusement. 

By his industry and frugality, Harry, at Che age of 
five and twenty, had saved a little money. His master 
was kind and liberal towards Jiiin, and having himself 
other occupations to attend to, resigned his little interest 
as a cabinet-maker to the hero of our story. Harry 
became, if possible, more assiduous; he did not want 
friends and customers, and there was a particular object 
which gave an additional spur to his industry; he 
naturally and properly desired a wife as soon as he had 
acquired the means of maintaining one. In a neigh- 
bouring village he had formed an acquaintance with a 
young woman, who possessed those excellences which 
strongly recommended themselves to the prudential part 
of his character. Her parents were honest and pious 
people, who had brought up their daughter with the 
strictest attention to economy, and with those habits of 
regularity which assign to every duty an exact time and 
place for its fulfilment. These habits of order and 
punctuality had become a second nature to Martha. 
She would not allow herself to deviate from the pre- 
scribed path, nor could she endure any deviation in 
those by whom she was surrounded. She had a sincere 
and affectionate heart ; but this precision had given 
something of coldness and formality to her character. 
Harry, with the fondness of a lover's eyes, saw every 
thing to admire ; he considered that her seriousness 
would properly regulate his cheerfulness, and that the 
strict discipline which she exercised over her *own 
actions would control his inclination for hasty and 
various modes of occupation. He was satisfied that he 
could not make a more prudent choice, and the world 
thought so also. They married. 

At the end of the first fortnight after their union, 
Harry sat down by his evening fireside exceedingly 
fatigued ; he felt incapable of exertion, and remained for 
some time listless and dispirited. Martha began to read 
aloud from a serious book ; — but she did not choose the 
most favourable moment for making a proper impres- 



sion : Harry yawned and almost fell asleep. Martha 
laid down her book, and recommended him to look over 
his accounts : with every disposition to do right and 
oblige his wife, Harry felt that the labours of the day 
were past. He thought of his flute. The sense of 
fatigue was at once forgotten, as he again placed his old 
book of tunes before him. He played his briskest jigs — 
but Martha did not beat time : he tried his most pathetic 
aire — but Martha remained unmoved. He discovered 
to his mortification that his wife did not love music. 

The next evening Harry did not forget the recreation 
of his flute ; he played in his very best style, and he 
appealed to Martha for encouragement and approbation. 
Her praise was of a very negative "quality. Sunday 
came, and Harry, as usual, took his place in the music 
gallery ; he put forth all his powers, and exercised no 
common address to make his associates play in tune. 
As they walked home he ventured to ask Martha what 
she thought of their little band. She answered in a tone 
between indifference and contempt. His pride was hurt, 
and he determined to say no more upon the subject. 

The flute continued to be produced every evening, 
and Harry ceased to expect the praise, or ask the atten- 
tion of his wife. But even this indifference did not 
long continue. On one occasion he observed something 
like a frown upon her brow ; on another, he heard 
a pettish expression pronounced in a whispered and 
hurried tone. At length hostility was openly declared 
against the flute ; and Martha wondered how a man of 
any sense could waste his time, and annoy his family 
by such a stupid pursuit 

Harry bore this exceedingly well ; for the love of his 
wife came to the aid of his naturally good temper. He 
locked up the flute. But he was disappointed in expect- 
ing Martha would offer him any substitute for his 
favourite amusement after his hours of labour. Her 
notions were those of rigid and unsparing industry. 
She was never tired of her domestic occupations, and she 
could not understand how a man who had his living to 
get could ever tire in the pursuit of his calling. When the 
hour of work was over, Harry sat down in his little 
parlour, — but his wife was seldom with him. It was true 
that the boards of his house were cleaner than the floor of 
any of his neighbours ; — that the saucepans of his kitchen 
shone with a brightness which all the good housewives 
of the parish envied ; — and that not a cinder deformed 
the neatness of his hearth without calling forth the brush 
and the shovel for its instant removal. But then it was 
also true that he sometimes caught cold at his dinner- 
hour, from the wetness which the floor acquired from 
the indefatigable cleanliness of his mate ; that he some- 
times made a fatal error when he forgot to clean his 
shoes before he crossed the sanded threshold ; that while 
his wife was rubbing the skillets into looking-glasses, he 
was desirous of the conversation of a friend and com- - 
pauion ; and that his well swept hearth had no charms 
for his eyes while he was left alone to enjoy its neatness. 
He was debarred too of his favourite flute ; — and it 
cannot therefore be wondered that he sometimes said in 
his heart, " why did I marry?" 

It was at this juncture that Harry met with an old 
companion who had something of the vivacity, but 
nothing of the goodness which he himself possessed. 
Harry appeared uneasy and dispirited ; — the cause of 
his discomfort was at length communicated. His com- 
panion told him, with the common cant of libertines, 
that the way to make wives amiable was to negleat 
them ; — that his home was uncomfortable because he 
appeared too fond of it ; — and that he might find society 
where his merits would be properly rated. Harry was 
persuaded to fetch his flute, to spend the evening at a 
neighbouring ale-house. 

The harmless vanity which had been so long pent up 
now broke forth beyond its natural boundaries. Harry 



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played well, and he played tb a late hour, for he wag 
flattered and caressed. On his return home, Martha 
was angry, and he was sullen. 

The next night brought with it the same temptation. 
What was intended to be a rare indulgence at length 
became a confirmed habit. The public-house could not 
be frequented without expense ; and late hours could not 
be kept without diminishing the capacity for the per- 
formance of ordinary duties. Harry, too, acquired the 
practice of drinking freely ; and, as his mind was ill at 
ease, the morning draught often succeeded to the even- 
ing's intoxication. He was not, as before, seen constantly 
at his workshop, to receive orders with good temper, and 
to execute them with alacrity. He was not distinguished 
for the brightest shoes and the cleanest apron of any 
mechanic in the town : his habits were idle, and his 
garb was slovenly. He slunk away from public obser- 
vation to bury himself in the haunts of drunkenness and 
profligacy. As his business failed, he made to himself 
pretences for employment in vagabond parties of anglers 
or lark-shooters. One by one every article of furniture 
was pawned for present support. The fatal flute was the 
last thing consigned to the grasp of the money-lender. 

Martha did not want sense. She reflected deeply 
upon the causes of their misery ; and she at length per- 
ceived the error which she had committed in opposing 
her own fixed habits to the equally confirmed inclina- 
tions of her husband. She took her resolution. Ho- 
nestly and impartially she stated her distresses, and the 
cause of them, to the vicar of the parish. He was a 
pious, a sensible, and a charitable pastor. He pointed 
out to her, what she herself at length acknowledged, 
that a small portion of time devoted to an innocent 
amusement is not incompatible with the more serious 
duties of a citizen and a Christian ; that the engagements 
even of the most lowly might afford some leisure for 
cheerful relaxation ; and that religion did not require a 
course of intense exertion and unbending gravity. The 
worthy clergyman furnished Martha the means of real- 
*zing a plan which her own judgment had devised. 

Martha expended the good pastor's friendly loan in 
procuring the restoration of their furniture ; but she did 
not as yet bring it home. Her husband had one even- 
ing returned without intoxication, and in a temper 
which promised that the succeeding day would be one 
of industry. She exerted herself to accomplish her plan 
at this -favourable moment. Before the next evening 
arrived her cottage was once more neat and comfort- 
able j and the flute, which she had also redeemed, lay 
upon the table. Harry came in dejected, but his dejec- 
tion became astonishment as Martha threw her arms 
around him and pointed to the indications of their fu- 
ture happiness. She confessed the error which had 
been the original cause of their, misery. He felt her 
generosity, and with bitter tears made a vow of amend- 
ment He was too much affected to take up his flute 
that evening ; — hut on the next his wife pressed it upon 
him. She listened to his performance; — ahe strove to; 
fancy that she had a taste tor uiusjg; she praised bun. 
By this effort of kindness on one part, mutual kindness 
took the place of mutual discomfort. The hour of flute- 
playing was succeeded by the hour of serious meditation 
on the divine commands, and of humble prayer before the 
throne of grace. Their tastes and their pursaita gradually 
txrjame assimilated. A timely concession saved Martha 
fr< m hopeless misery, and & timely reformation saved 
f jury from the wretched life and the miserable death of 
, agabond and a drunkard. 



FORKS. 

Some of our readers may be surprised to learn that the 
use of forks at table was not introduced into England 
earlier than the reign of James the First, and that wt 



derived this piece of refinement from the Italians. The 
fact appears from the following curious extract from a 
book entitled, 'Coryat's Crudities, hastily gobbled up 
in five moneths Travells in France, Savoy, Italy, 
Rhaetia (commonly called the Grisons country), Hel- 
vetia (alias Switzerland), some parts of High Germany, 
and the Netherlands.' The book was first published in 
1611. "Here I will mention," says the 1 traveller, "a 
thing that might have been spoken of before in dis- 
course of the first Italian towne. I observed a custome 
in all those Italian cities and townes through the which 
I passed, that is not used in any other country that I 
saw in my travels ; neither do I think that any other 
nation of Christendome doth use it, but only Italy. 
The Italian, and also most strangers that are commorant 
in Italy, do alwaies at their meales use a little forke, 
when they cut their meate. For while with their kaife, 
which they hold in one hand, they cut the meate out of 
the dish, they fasten their forke, which they hold in the 
other hand, upon the same dish. So that whatsoever he 
be that sitting in the company of any others at meale, 
should unadvisedly touch the dish of meate with his 
fingers from which all at the table doe cut, he will give 
occasion of offence unto the company, as having trans- 
gressed the lawes of good manners ; insomuch that for 
his error he shall be at least brow-beaten, if not repre- 
hended in wordes. This forme of feeding, I understand, 
is generally used in all places in Italy, their forkes being 
for the most part made of yron or Steele, and some or 
silver ; "but those are used only by gentlemen. The rea- 
son of this their curiosity is, because the Italian cannot 
by any means indure to have his dish touched with fin- 
gers, seeing all men's fingers are not alike cleane. Here- 
upon I myself thought good to imitate the Italian fashion 
by this forked cutting of meate, not only while I was in 
Italy, but also in Germany, and oftentimes in England 
since I came home ; being once quipped for that frequent 
using of my forke by a certaine learned gentleman, a 
familiar friend of mine, one Master Laurence Whitaker, 
who in his merry humour doubted not at table to call 
me Furcifir*, only for using a forke at feeding, but for 
no other cause." 

The use of forks was at first much ridiculed in 
England, as an effeminate piece of finery ; in one dt 
Beaumont and Fletcher's plays, " your fork-carving 
traveller"' is spoken of with much contempt ; and Ben 
J on son has joined in the laugh against them in his 
' Devil's an Ass,' Act V, Scene 4. Meercrafl says to 
Gilthead and Sledge, 

" Have I deserved this from you two ? for all 
My pain9 at Court, to get you each a patent. 

Oilihead. For what ? 

Meeroraft. Upon my project of the fork*. 

Sledge. Forks I What be they? 

Meercra/t. The laudable use of forks, 

Brought into custom here as they are in Italy; 
To the sparing o' napkins." 



SONNET. 



with a vain 
for who aspires 
rom just desires, 
could never gain f 
a youth we train * 

The governor who must be wise and good, 
And temper with the sternness of the brain 
Thoughts motherly and weak as womanhood. 
Wisdom doth live with children round her knees : 
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk 
Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk 
Of the mind's business : these are the degrees 
By which true sway doth mount : this is the stalk x 

lYue power doth grow on ; and her rights are these. 
1601. Wordsworth. 

*fnrctter literally meant a slave, who, for pnnkhament of soma 
fault, was made to carry a fork or gallows upon his neck through tha 
-city, with his hands tied to it; hence it came to signify generally a 
togue, a villain. 



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[Mat 26, 1880. 



TUB OLD MAWS COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED 
THEM. 

You are old, Father William, the young man cried! 

The few locks which are left you are grey ; 
Tou are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, 

Now tell me the reason, I pray. 

In the days of my youth, Father William replied, 

I remember* d that youth would fly fast, 
And abused nojt my health and my vigour at first; 

That I never might need them at last. 

Tou are old, Father William, the young man cried, 

And pleasures with youth pass away, 
And yet you lament not the days that are gone, 

Now tell me the reason, I pray. 

In the days of my youth, Father William replied, 

I remember' d that youth could not last ; 
I thought of the future, whatever I did, 

That I never might grieve for the past. 

* Tou are old, Father William, the young man cried, 
And life must be hastening away ; 
Tou are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, 
Now tell me the reason, I pray. 

I am cheerful, young man, Father William replied, 

Let the cause thy attention engage ; 
In the days of my youth I remember* d my God ! 

And He hath not forgotten my age. 
* # * The above Stanzas are ascribed to Mr. Southey. 

\Mcourag*ment to Persons of mature Age to cultivate 
iK* Mind. — Instances have frequently occurred of indivi- 
dual*, in whom the power of imagination has at an ad- 
vanced period of life .been found susceptible of culture to 
a wonderful degree. In such men what an accession is 
gained to their most refined pleasures ! > What enchantments 
are added to their most ordinary perceptions ! The mind 
awakening, as if from a trance to a new existence, becomes ha- 
bituated to the most interesting aspects of life and of nature ; 
the intellectual eye is "purged of its film ;" and things, the 
most familiar and unnoticed, disclose charms invisible before. 
The same objects and events, which were lately beheld 
with indifference, occupy now all the powers and capacities 
of the soul ; the contrast between the present and the past 
serving onlyto enhance and to endear so unlooked-for an ac- 
quisition. What Gray has so finely said of the pleasures of 
vicissitude, conveys but a faint image of what is experienced 
by the man who, after having lost in vulgar occupations 
and vulgar amusements his earliest and most precious years, 
is thus introduced at last to a new heaven and a new earth 
"The meanest floweret of the vale, 

The simplest note that swells the gale, 

The common sun, the air, the skies, 

To him are op'ning Paradise." 

Dugald Stewarfs Essay on the Cultivation of 
Intellectual Habits. 



Cure of Drunkenness. — A man in Maryland, notoriously 
addicted to this vice, hearing an uproar in his kitchen one 
evening, had the curiosity to step without noise to the door, 
to know what was the matter, when he beheld his servants 
indulging in the most unbounded roar of laughter at a couple 
of his negro boys, who were mimicking himself in his 
drunken fits ; showing how he reeled and staggered, — how 
he looked and nodded, and hiccupped and tumbled. The 
picture which these children of nature drew of him, and 
which had filled the rest with so much merriment, struck 
him so forcibly, that he became a perfectly sober man, to 
the unspeakable joy of his wife and children. — Anatomy of 
Drunkenness. 

Lesson to Rulers. — The Chinese Emperor Tchou set out 
on a journey to visit the vast provinces of his empire, accom- 
panied by his eldest son. One day he stopped his car in the 
midst of some fields where the people were hard at work. 
" I took you with me," said he to his son, " that you might 
be an eye-witness of the painful toils of the poor husband- 
men, and that the feeling their laborious station should ex- 
cite in your heart might prevent your burdening them with 
taxes!" 

How to prolong Lif '<?.— For many years there prevailed in 
China an extraordinary superstition and belief that the secret 
sect of Tao had discovered an elixir which bestowed immor- 
tality. No less than three Emperors died after swallowing 
a drink presented to them by the eunuchs of the palace, as 
the draught that was to confe nevex-eiMang life, "The 



best method of prolonging life, and of making life happy/ 
said a wise Mandarin toxrae of these infatuated princes, "is 
to control your appetites, subdue your passions, and prac- 
tise virtue 1 Most of your predecessors, O Emperor ! would 
have lived to a good old age had they followed the advice 
which I give you !" 

A wise man's kingdom is his own breast; or, if he ever 
looks farther, it will only be to the judgment of a select few, 
who are free from prejudices, and capable of giving him solid 
and substantial advice. ^ __ 

Time tries the characters of men, as the furnace assays 
the quality of metals, by disengaging the impurities, dissi- 
pating the superficial glitter, and leaving the sterling gold 
bright and pure. 

It was said, with truth, by Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, 
that he who was ignorant of the arithmetical art was but 
half a man. With how much greater force may a similar 
expression be applied to him who carries to his grave the 
neglected and unprofitable seeds of faculties, which rt de- 
pended on himself to have reared to maturity, and of which 
the fruits bring accessions to human happiness — more pre- 
cious than all the gratifications which power or wealth can 
command.— Dugald Stewart. 

A Ship of War. — It is a mighty and comprehensive 
problem to contemplate all the essential elements connected 
with the construction of so massy and stupendous a fabric 
as a ship destined for the terrible purposes of war, which, 
in the magnificent voyages it undertakes, has to cross "wide 
and immeasurable seas, agitated at times by the unbridled 
fury of the winds, subjecting it to strains of the most formi- 
dable kind; — which shall possess mechanical strength to 
resist these, and at the same time be adapted for stowage 
and velocity, — which is expected in all cases to overtake the 
enemy, and yet must contain within itself the materiel of a 
six months' cruise. These and many other complicated 
inquiries which the naval architect has to contemplate, must 
all be involved in the general conditions of his problem, the 
elements of which he must estimate while he is rearing his 
mighty fabric in the dock, and be prepared to anticipate 
their effects before he launches his vessel on the turbulent 
bosom of the deep.— Review of Herveys Article, Ship 
building, Edinburgh Encyclopaedia . 

Average Duration of Life. — Nothing is more proverbi- 
ally uncertain than the duration of human life, where the 
maxim is applied to an individual ; yet there are few things 
less subject to fluctuation than the average duration of a 
multitude of individuals. The number of deaths happening 
amongst persons of our own acquaintance is frequently very 
different m different years; and it is not an uncommon 
event that this number shall be double, treble, or even many 
times larger jn one year than in the next succeeding. If 
we consider larger societies of individuals, as the inhabitants 
of a village or small town, the number of deaths is more 
uniform ; and in still larger bodies, as among the inhabitants 
of a kingdom, the uniformity is such, that the excess of deaths 
in any year above the average number, seldom exceeds a 
small fractional part of the whole. In the two periods, each 
of fifteen years, beginning at 1780, the number of deaths 
occurring in England and Wales in any year did not fall 
short of, or exceed, the average number one-thirteenth part 
of the whole; nor did the number dying in any year 
differ from the numt> >r of those dying in the next by a tenth 
part — Babbage on the Assurance of Lives. 

How many minds— almost all the great ones — weffc 
formed in secrecy and solitude, without knowing whether 
they should ever make a figure or not ! All they knew 
was, that they liked what they were about, and gave their 
whole souls to it. 



LONDON:— CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Shopkeepers and Hawkers ma\ 



be supplied Wholesale by the following 
ihsellers: — 



London, Oboombkidoe, Panyer Alley, 

Paternoster-Row. 
Bath, Simms. 
Birmingham, Dkakk. 
Bristol* Wmtlky and Co. 
Derby t Wzx.KiN8.and Son. 
FuUnovth, Phil?. 

Butt, StKPKSNSON. 

Leeds, Bainks and Co. 



Liverpool, Willmih and Smith. 
AfoitcAeitor, Robinson, and Wibb and 

SIMMS. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Cbaxnlxt. 
Nottingham, Wkioht. 
Dublin, WaKKMAN. 
Edinburgh, Oliyzr and Botm. 
Glasgow, Atkinson and Co 



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10.] 



April 30 to May 31, 1832. 



HIGHGATE CHURCH. 



Those of our readers who take their " holiday walks" 
in the. northern environs of London — and more delight- 
ful walks cannot be presented by the suburbs of any city 
in the world — will have observed, that in the course of 
last autumn, a tall Gothic spire had sprung up on the 
summit of Highgate-hill. This is the spire of Highgate 
church, which has been just completed*, and which is 
an honourable monument of the taste of Mr. L. Vulliamy, 
its architect. It is impossible to imagine a more beau- 
tiful site than that chosen for the church, or a style of 
building better adapted to the situation. The interior is 
extremely neat and commodious. The old Chapel of 
• Ease, which stands near the Gate-house, was a very 
small and inconvenient place of worship. 

Those who take a summer ramble to Highgate, to 
see this new church, need not now apprehend that they 
shall be compelled to be " sworn on the horns," if they 
stop for refreshment at any of the inns. The Horns, 
according to Mr. Hone, in his amusing ' Every-day Book,' 
are kept at each of the nineteen places of refreshment 
which Highgate possesses, and there are persons ready to 
officiate at this ridiculous ceremony, if the wayfarer de- 
sire it. But the sober-minded man is not now constrained 
to go through the farce of swearing that he will not eat 

* We gladly take this opportunity to correct an error which inad- 
vertently crept into the ' Companion for the Almanac for 1 832/ The 
building of Highgate church was not suspended for want of fund*, 
and the cost did not exceed the estimate. 
Vol. I 



brown bread while he can get white, unless he like the 
brown the best ; nor drink small beer while he can get 
strong, unless he like the small the best. These are 
mummeries of a past age, when boisterous merriment 
was mistaken for happiness. The more the under- 
standing is cultivated the more do we acquire a taste for 
quiet and unexpensive pleasures ; — and whilst we have 
fields and green lanes, such as Highgate offers, to 
wander through, and can know how to derive pleasure 
and instruction from the contemplation of " the meanest 
floweret of the vale," we may well forego the unmeaning 
shouts which once attended the general practice of 
being €l sworn at Highgate," happy to have escaped the 
expense and the headaches which waited upon those 
fooleries, kept up by interested hosts and their idle and 
drunken hangers-on. 



[Gborqb Canning.] 

A monument to the memory of George Canning has just 
been erected, by subscription, in Palace-yard. It is a 
colossal statue of bronze, executed by Mr. Westmacott 
The attitude of the figure is, upon the whole, simple and 
grand ; though, in one or two points of view, a little 
theatrical. The likeness of the orator is excellent The 
above wood-cut will furnish a general idea of this fiae 
figure. It is placed on a granite pedestal, bearing the 
inscription— 

"GEORGE CANNING." 



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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OP 



[May SI 



TRANSIT O* MERCURY. 

Our readers would be prepared to observe the transit 
which took place on Saturday the 5th of May, by the 
hasty notice contained in our Supplement for April. 
We fear, however, that owing to the*state of the wea- 
ther, few can have enjoyed the sight. The writer of this 
article watched during the whole time, and although 
there were a few short intervals in which the sun was 
partially visible, he was totally unable to obtain a view of 
the transit, owing probably in part to the unavoidable 
delay in adjusting the telescope. The transit was, how- 
ever, seen for a short time at Greenwich, Islington, and 
a few other places in the neighbourhood of London. 
At Islington a gentleman was able to measure the dia- 
meter or thickness of Mercury, an operation which can 
be performed during a transit with very great accuracy. 

We promised to explain how it happens, that although 
Mercury moves round the sun four times in one of our 
years, and might therefore be expected to pass between 
us and the sun very frequently, a transit is really an 
event of rare occurrence. In order to accomplish this, 
we shall make use of a comparison, the homeliness of 
which will, we trust, be excused, if it render intelligible 
that which is certainly difficult of xplanation. 

We will suppose ourselves to stand by the side of a 
circular pond of very clear water, and that we place a 
ball to float in the centre, of such a weight as to be 
half covered with water. Let this ball represent the sun, 
and the brink of the pond the orbit of the earth. Then 
the surface of the water wilt represent the plane of the 
earth's orbit, passing, as it does m reality, through the 
sun's centre. 

Let the diameter of the circular pond be sixteen feet, 
then that of the ball which represents the sun must be 
rather less than an inch. 

Now if there should happen to be a small globular 
insect, not quite the hundredth part of an inch in 
diameter, swimming along the brink of the pond in 
a direction (as we should view it) opposite to that in 
which the hands of a clock move, this insect would 
represent the earth. 

We must next suppose ourselves to take a fine wire 
hoop, about six feet in diameter, and to hold it in the 
middle of the pond, so that one half of the hoop shall 
dtp a little below the surface (about four inches), the 
other half rising as much above the surface, and the 
representative sun being in the centre of the hoop as 
well as in that of the pond. This hoop would represent 
the orbit oL Merniry. For Mercury itself we must 



imagine a verysTTtsil^ insect, of less than half the dia- 
meter of the earth's represent ive, to move round the 
hoop in the same direction as the other insect moves 
round the pond, but in a shorter time ; so as to make 
rather more than four revolutions to the other's one. 
In completing its circuit, it is manifest that Mercury s 
representative must pass twice through the surface of 
the water. These points of the insect's orbit represent 
the nodes of Mercury; namely, the points in which 
Mercury's orbit cuts the plane of the earth's orbit. At 
the moment of rising through the surface of the water, 
the* insect would be in the ascending node ; when sink- 
ing through the surface, it would be in the descending 
node ; and it is manifest that except when in or near 
one of these points it could not intercept any part of the 
other insect's view of the representative sun ; it might 
appear to pass a little above or a little below the central 
ball, according as it happened to be above or below the 
water's, surface, but not across the face of the ball, and, 
consequently, except as before, there could be no transit 
Our ideal orrery will, we hope, make it apparent that 
a transit can take place only when the following circum- 
stances combine. First, Mercury must be in or near 
to one of its nodes. Secondly, the earth must be in or 
near one of the two points in its orbit which would be 



marked by a straight line, uniting the nodes of Mercury 
and extending both ways to the earth's orbit (For se- 
veral centuries the earth will pass through those points 
early in May and November, although owing to an ex- 
tremely slow motion of Mercury's nodes round the sun, 
these periods are not absolutely invariable.) Thirdly, 
the earth and Mercury must be on the same side of the 
sun ; if they are on opposite sides, Mercury will pass 
behind the sun, causing an occuitation. 

When these three circumstances combine, a transit 
will take place - } and it will be visible from all parts of 
the earth on which the sun shines during any part of 
the transit 

The transits of Venus are regulated by causes exactly 
similar to these which determine the transits of Mercury. 



A DICTIONARY OF COMMERCE AND COMMER- 
CIAL NAVIGATION; illustrated • with Maps. 
By J. R. Macculloch, Esq. 8vo. Lpndon, 1832. 

The price of this book is fifty shillings, which may seem 
at first to be a great deal of money for a single volume. 
Yet we see here merely one of the wonders of the 
modern printing-press. With such economical compact- 
ness is this volume printed, that, while nothing can be 
desired more beautifully distinct than is every page and 
every line of it, it actually, as is noticed in the preface, 
contains more letter-press, that is more words, than 
Macpherson's Annals of Commerce, in four large vo- 
lumes quarto, published at eight guineas. Estimated 
even upon this principle, therefore, the work is really 
no't a dear, but a very cheap one. The matter of which 
it consists, if printed in the ordinary style, would have 
filled two folio volumes ; the price of which would pro- 
bably have been four guineas each. And here we have 
the whole in a much less bulky, less cumbrous, and in 
every way more convenient form, for less than a third 
part of that money. 

But the quantity of information which is extracted in 
this Dictionary from other publications, to say nothing 
of what appears here for the first time and is to be 
found nowhere else in print, it would probably cost hun- 
dreds of pounds to collect by the purchase of the origi* 
nal works themselves. The most eminent works, both 
in our own and other languages, on commerce, political 
economy, the arts and manufactures, and the sciences on 
which they are dependent, together with numberless 
parliamentary reports and other similar documents, have 
all been laid under contribution by the able and labori- 
ous author, to furnish the materials of this admirable 
performance. Of several of these scattered publications, 
indeed, we are presented in the present volume with a 
careful and complete analysis or summary, embracing 
everything of any value in their contents, and exhibiting 
the whole arranged in the most intelligible and conve- 
nient form. We may venture to say that there is no 
important source of information upon the subjects of 
which he treats which Mr. Macculloch has not consulted, 
and nearly all that is material in which he has not laid 
before his readers. The book is for all ordinary pur- 
poses really more useful than an entire library of the best 
works on commerce and commercial topics that existed 
previous to its appearance. 

Although an expensive book, therefore, and conse- 
quently not one which a labouring man will think of 
purchasing, a book society could scarcely perhaps lay 
out a portion of its funds to better purpose than in 
procuring a copy of this Dictionary. It is an immense 
fund of knowledge, and that of the most useful as well 
as the most universally interesting sort. We will 
abridge from the Preface an enumeration of the different 
subjects of which it treats. All the various articles which 
are the subjects of commerce are described under I heir 
English names, those which they bear in the other prin* 

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cipal languages of the world being also given. The 
accounts embrace generally not only a description of the 
article and its uses, but a notice of its growth or manu- 
facture, of its price, of the tests or marks by which its 
genuineness or goodness is ascertained, and of the his 
tory of the rise, progress, and present state of the trade 
in it. Accounts are given of all the chief places of trade 
with which this country has any intercourse ; in which 
are stated what commodities are exported to and im- 
ported from them, what are their moneys, weights, and 
measures, and what are the institutions, customs, and 
regulations which prevail in them with respect to com- 
merce and navigation. In this department of the work 
alone, there is collected a larger mass of authentic infor- 
mation respecting the trade and navigation of foreign 
countries than is to be found in any other English pub- 
lication. The general principles and laws of commerce 
and commercial navigation are examined and explained 
in a series of elaborate articles under the heads of Com- 
merce, Freight, Navigation Laws, Corn Laws, Registry, 
Salvage, Ships, Wrecks, and many others. The prin- 
ciples and practice of Commercial Arithmetic and Ac- 
counts are unfolded in articles on Book-keeping, Dis- 
count, Exchange, Interest, Annuities, &c. Besides a 
general article on Commercial Companies, there are 
separate accounts of all the principal associations of this 
description that exist in Great Britain, including Banking 
and Dock Companies, the East- India Company, Water 
Companies, Mining Companies, Insurance Companies, 
and others. Every thing pertaining to the Excise and the 
Customs is elucidated under these heads, and also under 
the terms Importation, Smuggling, Warehousing, Tariff, 
Ac. And finally, to all these are to be added a host of 
articles on subjects which it is not easy to classify, in- 
cluding Brokers, Can 
Money, Partnership, 
Apprentice, Auctione< 
Credit, Patents, Paw 
rantine, and many m< 
merate. No subject 
can le properly said t 
of the work, or to be 
practice of commerce. 
This sketch will en 
of the varied entertai 
found in the volume, 
for occasional consulti 
information ot a usefi 

bably any other single voiume in any language, me 
labour and multifarious resources which such a work 
must have demanded are quite extraordinary for one 
individual to have brought to the task. Although Mr. 
Macculloch acknowledges, both in his preface and in dif- 
ferent passages throughout the body of his book, his 
obligations to the assistance of several official -persons, 
merchants, and others, we are not surprised to learn 
that he " has been almost incessantly engaged \\pon it 
for upwards of three years;" while, as he remarks, "the 
previous part of his life may be said to have been spent 
in preparing himself for the undertaking." It is a work 
the accomplishment of which might indeed fitly crown 
a life-time of preparatory study. 



NATIONAL PECULIARITIES. 
A work has just been 'published (and it has had a con- 
siderable sale), entitled ' Domestic Manners of the Ame- 
ricans. By Mrs. Trollope.' In our notices of new books 
we had laid it down as a rule to confine ourselves to such 
works as we could conscientiously recommend as con- 
taining wholesome amusement or useful instruction; 
Dut we may properly depart from this rule when any- 
thing appears not of a useful but an injurious tendency, 
particularly if the work in question is written with spirit 



and talent, and obtains a certain popularity. The dull 
and the stupid we may safely leave to themselves. 

Mrs. Trollope, an English gentlewoman, passed four 
years in the United States of America, so her statements 
come to us exempt from the suspicion of hasty observa- 
tion. We are given to understand that she left England 
dissatisfied with the political and social systems of the 
Old World, and anxious to try the republicanism of the 
New. But dissatisfaction with one order of things does 
not imply the faculty of justly appreciating another ; and 
to say nothing of an irritability of temperament, of a 
spirit of discontent, which we really do presume must 
exist to a considerable extent, to make England " with 
all her faults" so very insupportable, we would only re- 
mark that over-expectation is apt to lead to exaggerated 
disappointment, and that it is very natural that Mrs. 
Trollope, not finding America and the Americans quite 
so good as she had fancied them to be, should describe 
them as much worse than they are. 

Besides these natural consequences she shows through- 
out her work the equally natural error of judging of every 
thing by a fixed English standard, from which all her 
liberalism never relieved her for a moment. Than 
this nothing can be less philosophical or just. Every 
state of society must have its peculiarities, its advantages 
and disadvantages (if, as regards America, we can de- 
signate domestic trifles by so important a word) attached 
to it, and inseparable from it ; and we have no more rea- 
son to expect certain graces and ornaments, distinguish- 
ing the fashionable society of an old country, in the 
hard-working people of a new country, than we have to 
look for the finish of a professional dancing-master in 
the hearty gambols of a peasant In a new country, 
where every man's hands are full of work, the useful 
inate over the ornamental. The things 
Mrs. Trollope's heart yearned were de- 
he civilization of centuries, — on the exist- 
ly wealthy and idle enough to be elegant 
These are circumstances which the 
lay be acquainted with in after years, but 
tan no more create suddenly, than they 
their country with ancient seats and still 
baronial castles, or than we could convert 
1 fields and convenient streams into the 
their primeval forests and mighty rivers, 
om us to attempt to disparage those ameni- 
much of the pleasure of life and society 
which the Americans themselves will 
specuiiy ue more generally possessed of; but still we 
can conceive, that, among the people she describes, 
the men who smoked and spat might be honest and 
industrious; that the women who would not submit 
to the name of servants, but called themselves helps, 
might be good servants notwithstanding; that the co- 
lonels who kept stores, and the majors who sold spi- 
rits, might be brave and efficient officers in the hour ot 
need; that men pursuing such callings might sit in 
congress with credit ; and that the gentlemen and ladies 
who ate with their knives might be in possession of an 
education teaching real politeness, without being initiated 
in all the mysteries of the silver fork. 

We regret the talent misapplied in this book. We 
disapprove of its publication, because it tends to open 
those breaches, which an improved philosophy and years 
of peaceful intercourse between us and our trans-atlantic 
brethren, were fast closing up. 



Lord Chancellor Harcourt— The patent of the Harcourt 
barony (now extinct) recites, that Lord Chancellor Harcourt 
" daily despatches a multitude of suits in Chancery, removes 
obstacles which delay judgment in that court, and takes spe- 
cial care, that the successful issue of an honest cause should 
cost every plaintiff as little as may be/' 

' M2 



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[Intended Suspension Bridge 

We avail ourselves . of the permission of Mr. Brunei, 
jun., to copy his beautiful lithographic engravings of a 
Suspension Bridge about to be erected over the Avon, 
at Clifton. The above plate will furnish some idea of 
the beauty of the situation of this intended bridge ; and 
the following particulars will give a notion of the bold- 
ness of the undertaking :— 

Distance from centre to centre of piers .... 700 feet. 

Height of roadway above water 240 feet. 

Width of roadway, 20 feet;— two footways of 6 feet, 12 feet.— 
Total, 32 feet 

The road being in the centre, the footpaths are on each side and 
outride of the chains and suspension rods. 

The Egyptian gateways will be on a scale equal to those of some 
of the largest of the ancient models. 

From the roadway to the top of the Sphynz will be about 100 feet. 

The gateway will be about 40 feet high in the clear. 

The base on which the south pier stands, will be 120 feet in height 

The bridge is to be thrown across the river Avon, joining the high 
rocks on either side, called the St. Vincent Rocks, about one mile 
below Bristol ; and consequently all the shipping of Bristol, including 
East and West Indiamen of the largest class, will pass under it 

It is considered by some that the notion of suspension 
bridges was derived from the rope bridges of South 
America. A very remarkable bridge of this sort, that of 
Penipe\ is described by Humboldt, in his *Vues des 
Cordilleres ;' and, from a plate in that fine work, to 
copy the following representation of this bridge. 



over the Avon, at Clifton.] 

Such a bridge must be very inconvenient, as tht road- 
way is bent like the cables. 

There are several ancient suspension bridges in China 
and in Thibet sufficiently strong to enable a man with a 
load, and even a beast of burthen, to pass with security. 
But such structures are manifestly not to be compared 
to those splendid monuments of science which afford a 
safe and broad passage to any number of horses and 
carriages ; and the situations of which are never produc- 
tive of any inconvenience. The principle upon which 
suspension bridges are constructed is thus described • — 

" In these the flooring or main body of the bridge is 
supported «»n strong iron chains or rods, hanging, in 
the form o£**n inverted arch, from one point of support 
to another. H$e points of support are the tops of strong 
pillars or small towers, erected for the purpose. Over 
these pillars the chain passes, and is attached, at each 
extremity of the bridge, to rocks or massive frames of 
iron, firmly secured under ground. The great advan- 
tage of suspension bridges consists in their stability of 
equilibrium, in consequence of which a smaller amount 
of materials is necessary for their construction than for 
that of any other bridge. If a suspension bridge be 
shakejL, or thrown out of equilibrium, it returns by its 
weight to its proper place, whereas the reverse happens 
in bridges which are built above the level of their sup- 
porters*." 

The Europeans of the seventeenth century had con- 
ceived the principle of suspension bridges, and such a 
structure is described by Scamozzi, an Italian architect, 
in his work Del Idea Archi, published in 1615. Eighty 
years ago, the English threw over the Tees, at Winch, 
near Durham, a bridge of iron-wire, which served for 
foot-passengers. In the beginning of the present cen- 
tury, by means of chains placed close to each other, 
carrying cross-beams and planks laid longitudinally, we 
constructed bridges, over which workmen might pass 
with loaded wheelbarrows. Such were the bridges esta- 
blished on iron chains, and thrown from one eminence 
to another, for the purpose of carrying away the earth 
to be removed in order to disengage the blocks of stone 



* Eocydopadia Americana, vol 

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which were then blown up with gunpowder, and em- 
ployed afterwards to form the great Breakwater at 
Plymouth. Towards the end of 1816, the Scotch intro- 
duced the use of suspension bridges, but without ex- 
tending them, at first, to the passage of horses and car- 
riages. As early as 1813, Mr. Telford proposed to 
construct a bridge of suspension over the Mersey, at the 
place where the Duke of Bridgewatef's canal communi- 
cates with that river. This bridge was to have only foui 



THE LIBRARY OF ENTERTAINING KNOWLEDGE. 

CRIMINAL TRIALS, VOL. T. 

The former volumes of the Library of Entertaining 
Knowledge have consisted of treatises compiled on (he 
principle of merely presenting, within a convenient space 
and in a popular form, such information as had, for the 
most part, been already given to the world in other 
books. It is true, that there is scarcely one of these 

froaticoa urViis»Vi flnae nnt in oslslit^n 4~ —L-± iL. It.* 



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of a fellow-creature is at stake, and the facts upon which 
his fate depends are actually weighed before our eyes. 
Hence it is that no procession or solemn show, no 
theatrical representation, nor the most popular preacher, 
ever attracted greater crowds than the trials of Hatfield 
or Bellingham, or, in these later years, of the Cato-street 
Conspirators ; and no orator or actor ever addressed an 
audience of more breathless attention, than that which 
witnessed the proceedings in those memorable eases. 
Next in point of attraction to actual presence on such 
occasions, is the perusal of the written report of what 
has taken place; and the eagerness with which this 
report is sought is scarcely less remarkable than the 
persevering patience and unwearied attention of those 
favoured few who have endured the heat and suffocation 
of the day within the four walls of the Court." 

The present volume contains the trial of Sir Nicholas 
Throckmorton, in the reign of Mary, those of the Duke 
of Norfolk, Dr. William Parry, and the Earls of Essex 
and Southampton, in the reign of Elizabeth, and that of 
Sir Walter Raleigh, in the reign of James I. They 
are not all of equal interest ; but no one of them is 
without circumstances the recital of which will well re- 
ward the trouble of perusal. The trial of Throckmorton 
(for his alleged participation in Sir Thomas Wyatt's 
Rebellion)' is less illustrated than any of the others from 
original sources ; and the text, indeed, is taken entirely 
from Hollingshed. Imperfect, however, as the old 
Chronicler' 8 account is, it is a very extraordinary and 
affecting narrative. The behaviour of the judges and 
of the crown lawyers affords a strange picture of what 
an English court of justice was in those days. And 
rarely on the other hand has a defence been managed 
with greater ability than was displayed on this occasion 
by the prisoner at the bar ; who, indeed, by a rare fate 
for a person in such circumstances, actually won a ver- 
dict of acquittal from the jury by his eloquence and 
consummate dexterity. The demeanour of the Duke of 
Norfolk, the unfortunate victim in the next case, was in 
every respect different from that of Throckmorton ; and 
exhibiting as he did neither talent, intrepidity, nor the 
straight-forwardness of innocence, he was easily crushed 
before the strength of legal knowledge and skill brought 
forward to destroy him. There is a speech of one of 
the crown counsel on this occasion, Mr. Wilbraham, 
Attorney of the Wards, of great merit as a specimen of 
forensic eloquence. The account of this trial is enriched 
by a great deal of original matter from the State-Paper 
Office. The two concluding trials, however, of Essex 
and Raleigh, with the Memoirs and Remarks by which 
they are accompanied, form by far the most i.i foresting 
portion of the volume. They are both largely illustrated 
from hitherto unpublished documents, as well as from 
printed books not generally accessible; and so much 
pains has evidently been taken by the editor to present 
them in the most complete form, that he has probably 
left little to be added by any who shall follow him in 
examining or narrating the same transactions. We 
could wish to extract a portion of the observations to 
which these cases give rise, as a sample of the manner 
in which Jhis part of the work is executed ; but separated 
from the trial itself to which it refers, a passage of this sort 
would scarcely be intelligible, and we will therefore give 
the following detail of the infamous treatment to which 
Raleigh was subjected when a second time immured in 
the Tower, preparatory to his execution in 1618, on a 
sentence pronounced fifteen years before. Sir Allen 
Apsley, the regular lieutenant of the Tower, a man of 
honour and humanity, being removed, Sir Thomas 
Wilson was put in his place, with instructions to use 
every art to entrap his unfortunate prisoner. 

• Sir Thomas Wilson," the narrative then pro- 
ceeds, " was at this time Keeper of the State Papers, 
and there are preserved in the office over which 



he presided his own original minutes of the conversa- 
tion and conduct of Sir Walter Raleigh whilst under 
his charge in the Tower. On the perusal of these 
papers it rs difficult to say whether the preponderating 
feeling is sympathy for the captive, or disgust and in- 
dignation for his unfeeling and treacherous keeper. Sir 
Thomas Wilson entered upon his charge on the 11th of 
September, and from that time until the 15th of October, 
when he was withdrawn from the Tower, his minutes 
and daily reports to Secretary Naunton show a system 
of rigid observation, and of artful, ensnaring espionage, 
on his part, which was never for a moment relaxed. 
Raleigh's own servant was immediately dismissed, and 
a man appointed by Wilson took his place. Lady Ra- 
leigh and her son were excluded from the Tower, but 
she was allowed, and even invited to correspond freely 
with her husband ; and then the notes which she sent, 
as well as Raleigh's answers, were intercepted by Sir 
Thomas Wilson's man, and sent to the King and Council 
for their perusal before they were delivered*. Sir 
Thomas Wilson himself never stirred from his prisoner 
from the time he opened his lodging in the morning till, 
with his own hand, he locked him up for the night ; at 
his meals, at his devotions, and during the attendance 
of his physician and surgeon, this persevering keeper 
never quitted his apartment. His own feeling towards 
his unhappy prisoner, and his zeal in the unworthy task 
in which he was employed* are manifested by the Ian- 
guage which he constantly uses respecting him in his 
reports and letters : he calls him * hypocrite' und * arch 
impostor,' with other terms of reproach. 'The King 
of Heaven preserve your Majesty,' says he in one 
of his letters, ' from having many such dangerous sub- 
jects.' Having removed his prisoner into apartments 
of greater security than those in which he had been 
placed by Sir Allen Apsley, Sir Thomas Wilson writes 
to Sir Robert Naunton, one of the Secretaries of State, 
thus : ' I have removed this man into a safer and hig her 
' lodging, which, though it seemeth nearer heaven, yet 
• there is there no means to escape but into hell/ 
Again, in a letter to the King, he says, 'I hope, by 
' such means as I shall use, to work out more than I 
4 have yet done ; if not, I know no other means but a 
4 mkpr a halter.' 

^HRaleigh was at this time in the sixty-sixth year of his 
age ; during the whole period of his imprisonment, he 
was tormented by an intermitting fever and ague ; his 
body was covered with painful imposthumes, and he 
had a swelling on his left side which occasioned per- 
petual uneasiness ; in addition to which he was afflicted 
by a hernia. These distressing complaints were repre- 
sented by Wilson to be either wholly counterfeited or 
greatly exaggerated; and, as a proof of this, he tells the 
King, that 4 howbeit he is ever and anon puling, pining, 
and groaning, yet, if I put him into any discourse to his 
liking, of his last voyage, or former actions, he will talk 
immediately with as great heartiness, courage, and signs 

* " The following specimen of the treasonable correspondence thus 
intercepted, taken from the originals at the State-Paper Office, may 
tie interesting to our readers. The first is a note from Sir WalUr 
Raleigh to his Lady : — 

' 18th Sept.*— I am very sick and weak. This honest gentleman, 
1 Mr. Edward Wilson, is my keeper, and takes pains with me. My 
' swollen side keeps me in perpetual pain and unrest. God comfort 
'us! Your>s, W.R.' 

lady raleigh's answbu. 

' I am sorry to hear, amongst many discomforts, that your health 
' is so ill. Tis merely sorrow and grief that, with wind, hath gathered 
' into your side. I hope your health and comforts will mend, and 
' mend us for God. I am glad to hear that you have the company ard 
' comfort of so good a keeper. I was something dismayed at the first, 
' that you had no servant of your own left you ; but I hear this 
1 Knight's servants are very necessary. God requite his courtesies, 
' and God in mercy look on us ! Your**, 

E. RAUtlOH.' " 



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of cheerfulness as the soundest and strongest man 
alive.' 

" Such was the mind and disposition of the man to 
whose custody Raleigh was delivered ; though, towards 
his prisoner personally he adopted a mild and insinu- 
ating demeanour, with an appearance of candour and 
sympathy calculated to gain his confidence, and to in- 
duce him to make disclosures; introducing himself to him 
as one whom 'the King 'of his gracious and princely 
goodness had sent unto him, because his Majesty knew 
him to be a person of more honesty than cunning.' 

"The story of Sir Walter Raleigh is one of those 
which seem to belong to the romance of history ; and 
circumstances and anecdotes respecting him, which are 
trivial and unimportant in themselves, become attractive 
and valuable from the universal interest excited by the 
character of the extraordinary man to whom they relate. 
With this view we extract a few passages from the 
minutes of Sir Thomas Wilson. 

" • 12th September t at night, 

rt ' This evening finding him reading the Psalms, I 

* told him that there he had the best comfort ; that there 
1 he had a man and a king, — and the best man and the 
' best king that ever was, who had as great affliction as 
1 ever any had r and yet by his constancy and faithful- 
ness he overcame all ; and so might he. Hereupon 

' be began and told me from the beginning to the end of 
' all his misfortunes ; how first, at his Majesty's coming 
'in, Northampton, Suffolk, Salisbury, and the rest, 
' plotted to get him and Cobham out of favour, and to 
1 get every thing into their own hands ; then he went to 
' the arraignment at Winchester, and said, " it was as 
' unjust a condemnation, without proof and testimony, 
' as ever was known." So went he along his thirteen 
'years' imprisonment, and the means he took to pro- 
' cure liberty for his voyage ; his disasters there, and all 
' the tedious circumstances, and then the betraying of 
' him by Sir Lewis Stukely on his return. After 
1 this I told him that if he would but disclose what he 
1 knew, the King would forgive him and do him all 
1 favour ; " aye,*' quoth he, " how should I be assured 
1 of that? The King will say when it is told, the craven 
1 was afraid of his life, else he would not have told it. 
1 Therefore no, God-a-mercy ! '* I told him that if he 

* would write to the King*, I would ride and carry it, 
' and assured him upon my life that I would return him 
'a gracious answer. Whereupon he made a pause, 
1 as if he were half persuaded to do it Then supper 
1 came up, and after he had supped, he got courage 
' again to say he knew nothing worth the revealing. 

" ' 18th September. — This day, upon his complaint of 
4 bis misery, I gave him counsel and comfort to bear 
' his affliction with patience, upon the assurance of God's 
4 mercy, and the example of such as God had suffered 
1 to be as grievously afflicted as flesh and blood could 
bear, and yet had restored them to as great felicity as 
1 ever. He took occasion thereupon to commend the 

* magnanimity of the Romans, who would rather have 
4 their deaths by their own hands than endure any that 

was base or reproachful. To winch I answered, that 
* " they were such as knew not God, nor the danger of 
4 their souls to be damned to perpetual torment of hell 
4 for destroying their bodies, which God had made a 
' temple for the Holy Ghost to dwell in." To which he 

* "Raleigh afterward* wrote a letter to the King, which is pub- 
lished in Cayley's life, vol ii. p. 153 ; the date of this letter has 
hitherto been considered to be uncertain, but as it appears unques- 
twoaWy from Sir Thomas Wilson's papers that a letter was sent to 
the King from Raleigh on the 18th September, and as an ancient 
fjpy of the letter, preserved with Wilson's papers, at the State-Paper 
Office, is indorsed with that date, we may probably conclude that 
this was the letter then sent. The letter is too long for insertion 
here ; it merely consists of a vindication of his Guiana Voyage, and 
contains no disclosures whatever of facta which were not known and 
aotoriouf Mb** 



' said, " it was a disputable question ; for divers did 

* hold opinion that a man may do it, and yet not despe 

' rately despair of Gods mercy, but die in Gods favour.'' 

* Whereto this discourse of his tended it is easily seen 
4 but I think he hath no such Roman courage. Mr. 

* Lieutenant tells me he hath had like discourse with 
' him heretofore, who charged him with such intent 
1 upon occasion of having so many apothecary's drugsf, 
4 and such like ; " which it were well," saith he, u were 

* not suffered to be here." " Why," saith Raleigh, 4 * if 
1 you take away all these means from me, yet, if I had 
c such a mind, I could run my. head against a post and 

* kill myself."' 

44 * 2 1 st September. — This day I was sitting by him 
4 while the barber was trimming and keeming (combing) 
4 my head. He told me he was wont to keem his head 
4 a whole hour every day before he came into the Tower. 
4 Asking him why he did not so still, he said, " he would 
4 know first who should have it ; he would not bestow 

* so much cost of it for the hangman." ' 

44 On Sir Thomas Wilson's announcing to him that he 
was about to leave him, being recalled from his charge, 
Raleigh told him that he knew that ' as soon as he was 
gone he should be delivered over to the secular arm, as 
they called it,' and desired Wilson to tell the King that 
4 he could do him better service here than in the grave ; 
and yet,' said he, 4 what have I to do with life ? My 
age is fit for the grave ; my reputation is lost ; my body 
weak and full of pain ; — nothing can be more welcome 
to me than death.'" 



GALLERY OF PORTRAITS. 

The Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 
have this month commenced a publication which will 
require several years for its completion : it is a * Gallery 
of Portraits ' of those eminent men of modern times who 
have given the greatest impulses to their age, and whose 
likenesses are, of course, calculated to be universally inte- 
resting. The Society, while they thus hope to impart to 
many families the pleasure and instruction derived from 
contemplating the representations of the most dis- 
tinguished amongst mankind, expect, by the careful 
execution of those engravings, to diffuse a taste for art 
at a very cheap rate. Each number, containing three 
portraits printed upon paper about the size of this 
Magazine, is sold for half-a-orown ; — and it further 
contains a sketch of the life of each individual whose 
likeness is found in the collection. .The first number 
comprises Dante, the great Ftalian poet — Sir Humphrey 
Davy, our own eminent chemist— and Kosciusko, the 
Polish general and patriot. We give%n extract from 
the Life of Davy : — 

44 The autumn of 1815 is rendered memorable by the 
discovery of the safety-lamp, one of the most beneficial 
applications of science to economical purposes yet made, by 
which hundreds, perhaps thousands, or lives have been pre- 
served. Davy was led to the consideration of this subject 
by an application from Dr. Gray, now Bishop of Bristol, the 
Chairman of a Society established in 1813, at Bishop- 
Wearmouth, to consider and promote tbe means of pre- 
venting accidents by fire in coal-pits. Being then in Scot- 
land, he visited the mines on his return southward, and was 
supplied with specimens of fire-damp, which, on reaching 
London, he proceeded to examine and analyze. He soon 
discovered that the carburetted hydrogen gas, called fire- 
damp by the miners, would not explode when mixed with 
less than six, or more than fourteen times its volume of air : 
and further, that the explosive mixture could not be fired 
in tubes of small diameters and proportionate - lengths. 
Gradually diminishing these, he arrived at the conclusion 
that a tissue of wire, in which the meshes do not exceed a 

f u In one of his Reports, Wilson says, * the things he seems to 
make most reckoning of are his chemical stuffs, amongst which 
there is so many spirits of things, that I think there is none wanting 
that ever I heard of, unk$t it bt the Spirit of ChdJ " 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[June 2, 1832. 



tUC U1UVIC 



We hftVc aucuujr irausuucu au actuuuv vt 

killing the hippopotamus, from Dr. Ruppell's Travels ; 
to which ye shall now add, from the same writer, a 
description of the somewhat similar way in which the 
crocodile is caught by the natives of Dongola. 

44 The most favourable season for catching the croco- 
dile is the winter, when the animal usually sleeps on sand- 
banks to enjoy the sun ; or, during the spring, after pair- 
ing-time, when the female regularly watches the sand- 
islands where she has buried her eggs. The native spies 
cut the place, and on the south side of it (that is, to the 
leeward) he makes a hole in the sand by throwing up 
the earth on the side on which he expects the crocodile. 
There he hides himself, and if the crocodile does not 
observe him, it conies to the usual place and soon falls 
asleep in the sun. Then the huntsman darts his harpoon 
with all his might at the beast. To succeed, the iron end 
ought to penetrate at least to the depth of four inches, 
in order that the barb may hold fast. The wounded cro- 
codile flies to the water, and the huntsman to his canoe, 
with which a companion hastens to his assistance. A 
piece of wood fastened to the harpoon by a long cord 
sfvims on the water, and shows the direction in which 
the crocodile is moving. The huntsmen, by pulling at 
this rope, draw the beast to the surface of the water, 
where it is soon pierced by a second harpoon. 

" The dexterity consists in giving to the spear sufficient 
strength to pierce through the coat of mail which pro- 
tects the crocodile, who does not remain inactive after 
he is wounded, but gives violent blows with his tail, 
and tries to bite asunder the harpoon rope. To prevent 
this, the rope is made of thirty different thin lines, placed 
side by side, and tied together at intervals of every two 
feet, so that the thin lines get entangled and fastened 
in the hollows of the animal's teeth. Very frequently 
the harpoons, through the pulling, break out of the 
crocodile's body, and it escapes. If I had not seen the 
fact with my own eyes, I could hardly have believed 
that two men could draw out of the water a crocodile 
fourteen feet long, fasten his muzzle, tie his legs over his 
back, and finally kill the beast by plunging a sharp 
weapon into his neck, and dividing the spinal nerve. 
The iron part of the harpoon which is used by the 

Vol. I. 



iiuiiuuku mo a o|#<nu luiig , lUWOfUB VUC pUUIt Jl IS IOHneO 

like a penknife, being sharp at one end and on one side. 
There is a strong barb immediately following; the edge, 
and at the other end i 
rope is fastened. Th 
eight feet long. * 

" The flesh and fat of the crocodile are eaten by the 
Berbers, among whom they pass for a dainty bit. Both 
parts, however, htfve a kind of musk smell so strong, 
that I could never eat crocodile's flesh without vomiting 
afterwards. The four musk glands of the crocodile are 
a great part of the profit which results from the capture, 
as the Berbers will give as much as two dollars in specie 
for the four glands, which they use as a perfumed un- 
guent for the hair." 

When Herodotus was in Egypt about 450 years 
before the Christian era, the following was the way in 
which this formidable reptile was taken prisoner : — 

" There are many ways of catching crocodiles in 
Egypt, but the following seems to me- best worth relat- 
ing. The huntsman puts the chine of a pig as a bait 
on a hook, and lets it down into the river. In the mean 
time he takes his station on the bank, holding a young 
pig, which he beats in order to make it squeal out. 
The crocodile, on hearing this, makes towards the 
sound, but meeting with the bait on his way he swallows 
it down. Then the men begin to pull, and after he is 
fairly hauled out on dry land, the first thing the hunts- 
man does is to plaster the crocodile's eyes up with mud.. 
If he can succeed in doing this, there is no difficulty in 
managing the beast ; otherwise it is a very troublesome 
affair *." 

The different treatment which this monster received 
in different parts of ancient Egypt is curious, and not 
very easily accounted for. In the southern parts, near 
the cataracts, the crocodile was an article of food, but 
probably only with a particular caste, as in Dongola at 
the present day. In other parts, as at Thebes and near 
the great Lake Moeris (now Keroun), it was fashion- 
able to have* a pet crocodile, who was fed- daintily and 
treated with great respect " They put," says Hero- 
dotus, " pendents of glass and gold in their ears, and 
• Hewdotui, ii. 70. 

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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



rings round their fore-legs : they also give them a 
regular allowance of bread and meat, and take all possible 
care of them while alive. When they die, the Egyptians 
embalm them and put them in sacred sepulchres." For- 
tunately for the credit of Herodotus, a mummy of a 
crocodile has been found with his ears pierced for pen- 
dents, which fact is particularly mentioned by M. Geoffroy 
St. Hilaire*. 

Strabo tells an odd story of a crocodile which he saw 
when he visited Egypt, somewhat more than 400 years 
after the visit of Herodotus. "In this district they 
honour the crocodile very much, and they have a sacred 
one which lives by itself in the lake, and is quite tame 
to tke priests. He is called Suchus, and is fed with 
bread, and meat, and wine, which he gets from strangers 
who come to see him. Our host, who was a person 
of importance in the place, accompanied us to the 
lake, taking with him from table a small cake, some 
roasted meat, and a little cup full of some sweet liquor. 
We found the crocodile lying on the margin of the lake. 
The priests went up to him, and while some opened his 
mouth, another crammed into it, first the cake, then the 
meat, and, last of all, poured the drink down his throat. 
The crocodile, after this treat, jumped into the lake, and 
swam over to the other sidef." In the Townley Gallery 
of the British Museum (Room VI. No. 88) there is a 
piece of sculpture representing a man mounted on the 
hack of e crocodile, in a singular attitude, which will be 
best understood by a visit to the Museum. 

STATISTICAL NOTES. 

ENGLAND AND WALES (CONTINUED). 

(10.) The sum expended for the maintenance of the 
poor of England in the year ending March 25th, 1830, 
was 6,553,443/. For Wales, the sum for that year 
was 275,598/. Although the population since 1750 
.has only about doubled itself, the poor rates have 
increased, since that year, more than tenfold. For 
the ten manufacturing and mining counties, men- 
tioned in paragraph 2, (viz., Lancaster to Salop,) 
the increase has been from 107,927/. in 1750 to 
1,337,011/. in 1830; for the thirteen counties in para- 
graph 3, (Surrey to Hertford, including the Metro- 
politan,) from 204,070/. to 2,666,199/. ; and for the 
nineteen agricultural counties, in paragraph 4, from 
277,865/. to 2,550,330/. The sum expended for the 
poor of Middlesex in 1830, was 675,285/. ; next to this 
comes Kent, 358,461/., though only the sixth county 
in the order of population ; then, Norfolk, 299,211/., 
though only the ninth county in population ; then, Lan- 
caster, the third in population, 297,674/. ; then, Essex, 
the fourteenth in population, and containing about one- 
fourth of the people in Lancashire, 282,133/. ; then, 
the West Riding of Yorkshire, with a population of 
976,400, 281,158/. The ratio of the poor rates of 
the ten manufacturing counties to their population is 
about as one to three ; that of the thirteen metropolitan 
and other counties, about one-half; and that of the 
nineteen agricultural counties, as about two to three. 
The chief burtheu of pauperism, therefore, falls upon 
the agricultural districts. 

(11.) The committals for crime in the ten manufac- 
turing districts were in 1S05, 1,198, and in 1829, 6,430; 
in the thirteen metropolitan and other districts, they wtre 
in 1805, 2,317, and in 1829, 7,844 ; and in the nine- 
teen agricultural counties, they were in 1805, 1,012, and 
in 1829, 4,158. In all Wales the committals decreased 
from 78 in 1805, to 24 in 1829. The number of persons 
committed for trial at Assizes and Sessions in England 
and Wales in 1830, was 18,107, of whom 12,805 were 
convicted, 3.470 acquitted, and 1,832 had ni> bills found 
against them and were not prosecuted. Of the con- 
victed, 1397 were sentenced to death, and 46 executed. 
* ADnalea du Museum, toI. ix. p. 386. 
t Description of Egypt, Book xvii. 



As a general result, the committals in England are 
thus in the proportion of one to 740 inhabitants f and 
in Wales, of one to 2,320. In London and Middlesex 
the proportion is higher than in any other county, being 
one committal to every 400 inhabitants ; in Surrey the 
proportion is one to 680 ; in Kent, one to 730 ; in 
Sussex, one to 750 ; in Essex, one to 650 ; in Hertford- 
shire, one to 520 ; in Bedfordshire, one to 710. In the 
manufacturing districts the proportion is in Lancashire 
one to 650 ; in Warwickshire, one to 480 ; in Glouces- 
tershire (including Bristol), one to 540 ; in Nottingham, 
one to 750 ; in Cheshire, one to 630. In the more 
remote counties the proportion is small, that of Nor- 
thumberland being only one to 2,700 ; of Durham, one 
to 2,460 ; and of Cornwall, one to 1,600. It should 
be remarked, that of late, other causes than the ad- 
vance of crime have tended to fill the prisons, such 
as the Malicious Trespass Act, and the law for paying 
prosecutors their expenses in cases of misdemeanour ; 
and it is most satisfactory to observe that the darker 
crimes have, of late years, been less apparent than of old. 

(12.) The number of depositors in Savings' Banks 
in England in 1830 (including 5,904 Friendly and 
Charitable Societies) was 373,716, and in Wales 10,404. 
The total amount thus invested was, in England, 
13,080,255/., and, in Wales, 340,721/. The proportion 
of the depositors to the total population, is therefore 
about 34 in every 1000, or one in 30. The average of 
the ten counties, in paragraph 2, is 25 depositors to 
every 1000 ; of the thirteen counties, in paragraph 3, it 
is 33 depositors to every 1000 ; and of the nineteen 
counties, in paragraph 4, it is 27 to every 1000. In 
Devonshire the proportion of depositors is the highest, 
being 55 to 1000 ; in Middlesex and Berkshire it is 
50 to 1000 ; in Lancashire and Warwickshire, 20 to 
1000 ; in Kent, Sussex, and Dorset, 36 to 1000 ; and 
in Monmouth, Westmoreland, and Buckingham about 
12 to 1000 of the population. The average amount of 
each deposit is about 34/., and there has of late been a 
considerable increase in the number of depositors of 
sums under 20/., who amount now to 192,881. By 
some this fact is regarded as a proof of the growth of 
prudential habits among the mass of the working classes. 
It would be more exact to say so, of a small portion of 
the working classes, the fact being that 29 out of 30 of 
our population do not contribute to Savings* Banks at 
all. There are some debatable questions in regard to 
the effect produced by the appropriation of the funds ot 
the Savings' Banks by the Commissioners for the reduc- 
tion of the National Debt, but such questions cannot at 
all atfect the manifest advantage to be attained by every 
working man in saving his money at interest, in prefer- 
ence to squandering it. 

(13.) It has been already seen in paragraph 3, that 
the rate of increase of the population of Middlesex (in- 
cluding the city of London) since 1700 has been 117 per 
cent, being 37 percent, less than the average of the 
rest of England. The following is a statement of the 
present population of the Metropolis commonly called 
London, as compared with 1801 : — 

1801. 1831. 

City of London, within the Walls . . 63,832 . . 55,778 

Ditto without the Walls ..... 65,696 . . 67,480 

City and liberties of Westminster . . 153,272 . . 202,050 

Holborn Division 73,835 . . 97,373 

Finsbury ditto 67,155 . . 139,248 

Tower ditto . . . . # . ..... . 185,508 . . 351,647 

Ten parishes in Surrey, viz. five in South- 
wark, and Bermondsey, Rotherhithe, 
Newington, Christchurch, and Lam- 
beth, adjacent 137,655 . < 266,499 

Total within the Bills of Mortality . 746,953 1,180,075 
Five western parishes of St Mary4e-bone, 
St. Pancras, Pbddington, St. Luke Chel- 
sea, and Kensington 117,802 . . 273,587 

Total of the Metropo^^^^ 86^755 1,453,** 



1882.] 



THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 



Those who desire fuller information in regard to 
London and its environs should consult Mr. Marshall's 
• Topographical and Statistical Details of the Metro- 
polis ;* a ^raall and cheap work, which contains a great 
deal of valuable information. Mr. Marshall has also 
recently published a more elaborate work, in quarto, 
entitled, ' Statistics, Mortality, &c. &c. of the Metro- 
polis.' To both these publications we are indebted for 
some of the materials of the statements in these « Statis- 
tical Notes/ 

[To be continued.] 

SINGULAR ESCAPE. 

The following curious anecdote is taken from Archdeacon 
Coxe's Historical Tour in Monmouthshire, vol. i., p. 
101-2: — "The frame of the wooden bridge over the 
Usk, at Caerleon, is not unlike the carpentry of Cross* s 
bridge over the Rhine, as described by him in his Com- 
mentaries. The floor, supported by Jen lofty piers, is 
level, and divided by posts and raOs into rooms or beds of 
boards, each twelve feet in length; the apparently loose 
"and disjointed state of the planks, and the clattering noise 
which they make under the pressure of a heavy weight, 
have not unfrequently occasioned alarm to those who are 
unused to them. Some travellers, from a superficial view 
of the structure, have asserted that the planks are placed 
loose, to admit the tide through their interstices when it rises 
above the bridge, and which would, if they were fixed, force 
them from the frame, and carry them away. But, in fact, 
the tide has never been known to rifce above the bridge, nor 
was the flooring constructed to obviate this inconvenience. 
Formerly the planks were fastened to each extremity by iron 
nails : but the wood being liable to split, and the nails fre- 
quently forced up by the elastic agitation of the beams under 
trie pressure of heavy carriages, the planks were secured 
from rising by horizontal rails, fastened to the posts, and 
prevented from shipping side-ways by a peg at each end 
within the rail. 

" The height of the water, at extraordinary tides, exceeds 
thirty feet ; but though it has never risen above the floor, yet 
the united body of a high tide, and the floods to which the 
Usk is subject, have been known to carry away parts of the 
bridge. An accident of this kind, which happened on the 
29th of October, 1772, occasioned a singular event, to which 
I should not have given credit, had it not been authenticated 
by the most respectable testimony. 

" As Mrs. Williams, wife of Mr. Edward Williams, bra- 
^zier, was returning from the village on the other side of the 
bridge to the town of Caerleon, at eleven b' clock at night, 
with a candle and lantern, the violence of the current forced 
away four piers and a considerable part of the bridge. On 
a fragment of this mass, consisting of an entire room, with 
the beams, posts, and flooring, she was hurried down the 
gt river : but preserved sufficient presence of mind to support 
herself by the railing. After having been carried down about 
a mile and a half the candle was extinguished : .on passing 
some houses at St Julian's, near the river-side, she screamed 
for help, and was heard by several persons, who started out 
of their beds to assist her ; but the violence of the stream 
had already hurried her beyond their reach. During this time 
she felt but little apprehension, as she entertained hopes of 
being delivered by the boatmen at Newport ; her expecta- 
tions were increased by the numerous lights which she dis- 
cerned in the houses, and she accordingly redoubled her 
cries for assistance, though without effect. On arriving at 
Newport, which is more than three miles from Caerleon, the 
fragment on which she stood being broken to pieces against 
a pier of the bridge, she fortunately bestrode a beam, and, 
after being detained for some minutes by the eddies at the 
bridge, was rapidly hurried along towards the sea. tn this 
perilous situation she at length gave up all hope of deliver- 
ance, and resigned herself to her approaching fate. 

" About a mile from Newport she discerned a glimmering 
light, in a barge which was moored near the shore, and, re- 
doubling her cries, was heard by the master* of the vessel. 
After hailing her, and learning^ her situation, he cried out, 
Keep up your spirits, and you will be soon out of danger ;' 
then leaping mto the boat with one of his men, rowed to- 
wards the place from whence the screams proceeded; but 
some time elapsed before, he overtook her, at a considerable 
distance from the anchorage of the barge. The night was 
fo dark that they could not discern each other, and the surf 



91 

swelling violently, the master r v «d his exhortations, 
charged her to be calm, and not ati v *o quit her station. 
Fortunately, a sudden dispersion of , ,uds enabled him 
to lash the beam fore and aft to the bo. \ At this moment, 
however, her presence of mind forsook her, -and eagerly at- 
tempting to throw herself forward, she was checked by the 
oaths of the seamen, who were at length enabled to heave 
her into the boat, but could not disengage themselves from 
the beam till they almost reached the mouth of the Usk. 
This being effected, not without great difficulty, they rowed 
to the shore, and embayed themselves till the first dawn of 
the morning, when they conveyed her in the boat to New- 
port.' * 

Mr. Coxe gives the names jtf several respectable persons 
residing in the neighbourhood, who expressly confirmed to 
his satisfaction the truth of this narrative : he especially re- 
fers to a clergyman, to whom Mrs. Williams often repeated ' 
the story, and confirmed it on her death-bed with the most 
solemn asseverations. 



Disturbed Times unfavourable to Lawyers. — In S tow's 
Chronicles, p. 631, the following lively picture is drawn of the 
state of the courts of law during the performance of the tra- 

fedies of religious persecution and tyranny under ^ueen 
[ary in 1557:— "This yeere, in Michaelmas terme, men 
might have seen in Westminster Hall, at the King's Bench 
bar, not two men of law before the justices. There was one 
named Fostar, who looked about, and had nothing to do ; 
the judges likewise looking about them. In the Common 
Pleas no more Serjeants but one, which was Serjeant Ben- 
lowes, who looked about him : there was elbow-room, 
enough ; which made the lawyers to complain of their injuries 
in that terme.'* 



As the Italian poet, Tasso, whose misfortunes were as 
great as his genius, was on one of his journeys between 
Rome and Naples, he fell into the hands of banditti, who 
immediately proceeded to plunder him and his fellow-tra- 
vellers. But no sooner did the captain of the band, the 
celebrated Marco Sciarra, of Abruzzi, hear the poet pro- 
nounce his name, than, with tokens of admiration and re- 
spect, he set him at liberty ; nor would he even permit ais 
followers to plunder Tasso s companions. A prince of royal 
or imperial birth confined the poet iu a mad-hcuse for more 
than seven years ; the great and wealthy left him to a pre- 
carious life, which was often a life of absolute want ; the 
senile men of letters of the day loaded him with abusive 
and most unjust criticism ; but a mountain robber, by the 
road's side, controlled in his favour the very instinct of his 
gang, and kissed the hand of the author of the * Gerusa- 
lemme V 



Parini, a native of Milan, was not only one of the first 
poets of modern Italy, but a dignified, philanthropic, and most 
amiable man. When the government of his country was 
changed, and a republic first instituted under the protection 
of the French arms, Milan became the scene of very natural 
excitement, and occasionally of violence. The people had 
been too long deprived of liberty to be able to bear their 
new condition with moderation. Things even went so far 
that a young and beautiful girl was seen to ascend the re- 
publican tribune, «nd to promise her virgin-love to the man 
who should bring in the head of that foe to liberty — the 
poor old Pope ; and the father of this virago was seen to 
embrace her with transport and tears excited by this heroic 
virtue ! It was at this time that some violent demagogue 
tried to force Parini, one night at the theatre, to join the 
mob in crying "death to the aristocrats !" "Long live the 
Republic," exclaimed the poet. " Life to the Republic, but 
death to no one I" In an instant tranquillity was restored. 



A Savoyard got his livelihood by exhibiting a monkey 
and a bear. He gained so much applause from his tricks 
with the monkey, that he was encouraged to practise some 
of them upon the bear: he was dreadfully lacerated, and on 
being rescued, withgreat difficulty, from the gripe of Bruin, 
he exclaimed: "Wnat a fool was I, not to distinguish 
between a monkey and a bear ! A bear, my friends, is a very 
grave kind of personage, and, as you plainly see, does not 
understand a joke/' 

Evelyn truly remarked, that all is vanity which is not 
honest, and there is no solid wisdom but in real piety. 

N8 



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[Juki 2, 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM.— No. 3. 

OBELISKS. 



An obelisk is a single block of stone with four faces, 
ite perpendicular, but inclined a little, 
opposite face, so that the width of each 
ninishes to the top of the shaft, which 
i pyramid. There are two small obe- 
the British Museum, numbered 70 and 
tire from the base upwards, but the 
ler with the little pyramid at the top, is 
li of them were brought from Grand 
wrhere they were first taken possession 
i, but they afterwards came into the 
lish when the French army capitulated 
1801, and quitted the country, 
lered 70 was used as the door-sill of 
castle of Cairo, where that excellent 
r, saw it in 1762, and copied part of 
the figures. By comparing his drawing with the north 
side of this obelisk (as it now stands), we readily dis- 
cover it to be the same. This obelisk, besides losing its 
top and part of the shaft, has been broken into two un- 
equal pieces, which are now united. The lower part, 
however, is quite complete, which is evident from there 
being a smooth un sculptured surface on all the four 
sides, to the height of about 10^ inches above the base. 
In all the obelisks that have been accurately measured, 
it least in all of which we have been able to procure a 
complete account, the width of the adjacent sides is dif- 
ferent. For example, in this Museum obelisk, as it 
now stands, the north and south sides are of the same 
dimensions, being about 1 foot 4£ inches wide, while 
the east and west sides are each about 1 foot 5£ inches: 



the height of this fragment is about 8 feet I£ inch, mea- 
sured along one of the faces. 

These two obelisks have a great number of figures 
cut on each face, representing either natural objects, 
such as birds and serpents, or various other things 
which it is not in all cases easy to identify. They are 
' cut deep into the stone, and, in some instances, a con* 
siderable elevation or relief is given to the parts contained 
within the deep incision, for the purpose of showing the 
round and prominent parts of the figure. On all Egyp- 
tian monuments of an early age, animals are cut with 
great accuracy of outline and spirit, especially birds, of 
which this obelisk offers some excellent specimens in the 
goose, the ibis, known by his long beak and legs, and 
another bird in walking attitude, near the base of the south 
side. The execution of this last is above all praise. 

It is now ascertained that the figures enclosed in ob- 
long rings contain the titles and names of kings. These 
are the same on the two obelisks, and they happen also 
to be the same as those on the great sarcophagus, No. 6. 
There have been many disputes among the learned 
as to the origin and meaning of obelisks, into which we 
shall not enter here. We know that they were gene- 
rally placed in pairs at the entrances of the great Egyp- 
tian temples and palaces ; and there are still two stand- 
ing, in their original position, before the gateway of a 
large edifice at Theses. When the ftomans got pos- 
session of Egypt, Augustus removed two of the largest 
obelisks from Helion©lis (the city of the sun) to Rome, 
where they still exist, and attest the fact of their removal 
at that period, by a Latin inscription on the pedestal. 
During the troubles of the city a*d the disastrous period 
of the decline of the Roman Empire, these and other 
obelisks were thrown down and broken ; but . they ha-\e 
since been set on pedestals by the enterprising spirit of 
some of the popes. Sixtus V., in 1586, set the first 
example, in which he was followed by several of hi) suc- 
cessors ; and Pius VI. restored other obelisks in the 
years 1786, 1789, and 1792. Two have been raised 
since the last-mentioned date. 

The largest obelisk now at Rome, and perhaps the 
largest in the world, is that which stands in front of the 
Lateran church. It was originally erected by the Em- 
peror Constantius*, in the Circus Maxim us, by means of 
a most cumbrous machinery of wood-work and ropes, 
after having been brought from Egypt in a ship built 
expressly for the purpose, and manned with three hun- 
dred rowers. Pope Sixtus V. set it up in its pre- 4 
sent place in 1588, after it had lain on the ground 
broken in three pieces for several centuries. Though the 
shaft has sustained some damage at the base, it is still 
105 feet long ; the width of the two larger sides at the 
base is 9 feet 8| inches, and of the smaller 9 feet It 
now stands on a kind of pedestal, quite unsuited to the 
simple character of the genuine Egyptian supports. 
The whole height at present, with its pedestal and or- 
naments on the top, is about 150 English feet, and the 
weight of the obelisk itself may probably be about 440 
tons. The material is the red granite of Syene, resem- 
bling that of Xhe altar, No. 2, in the British Museum. 

It is not so much the actual magnitude of an obelisk 
which excites our wonder, for the London monument is 
50 feet higher than the tallest of the Roman obelisks — 
but the simplicity of the obelisk form, which' is not dis- 
figured by any irregularity, its gradual diminution to- 
wards the summit, which takes away all appearance of 
heaviness, the beautiful sculptures with which most of 
them are covered, and the unity of the huge mass cut 
from the quarries of Syene, conveyed so many hundred 
miles, and then set firmly on its pedestal — all , these 
combined fill us with admiration at the boldness and 
taste of the designer, and the unwearied patience fw4 
skill of the sculptor. 

* AmmiaauB Marcellinus, xvii. 4 



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[June 2 



of the customs. He was of delicate health from his in- 
fancy; and in consequence, although he was put to 
school in his native town, he mixed but little in the out- 
of-door sports and exercises of his more robust compa- 
nions; but during the hours he was. not in school vcou- 
?ied himself for the most part with his books at home. 
n 1737 he was sent by his mother to the university of 
Glasgow, and three years after from thence to Baliol 
College, Oxford, on one of several exhibitions, or yearly 
allowances, to which Glasgow* students are entitled while 
pursuing their studies at that college. The intention 
of Smith's relations was that he should enter into orders, 
with the view of becoming a clergyman in the Scotch 
episcopal church. After remaining at Oxford, however, 
for above eignt years, he gave up all thoughts of this 
distinction, and, returning to Scotland, introduced him- 
self to public notice by delivering a course of lectures on 
rhetoric and the belles lettres in Edinburgh. The abi- 
lity with which he acquitted himself in this attempt 
brought him the notice and the friendship of Lord 
Kames, and several other distinguished literary men 
who then resided in the Scottish capital ; and in 1751 
he was, through their influence and his own reputation, 
elected to the professorship of logic in the university 
of Glasgow, which he exchanged the year following 
*br the chair of moral philosophy. He held this situ- 
ation for about twelve years, during «which time the 
eloquence and originality of his lectures rendered him 
the chief ornament of the seminary, and attracted crowds 
of students to his class from all quarters. His mode of 
lecturing was not to write out what he intended to say ; 
but, after making himself completely master of his sub- 
ject, to trust to the moment for expression ; and in this 
way, we are told, he never failed to keep up the eager 
attention of his audience to the discussion of even the 
most difficult and abstract parts of his subject. In 
1759 he gave to the world his first publication, the 
Theory of Moral Sentiments.' It was an exposi- 
tion of the leading metaphysical views which he had 
been in the habit of addressing to his class, the design 
being to show that all our feelings and judgments 
with regard to the morality of different actions arise 
from, and are regulated by, the principle of sympathy, 
which accordingly he makes the fundamental charac- 
teristic of our mental constitution, and that without 
whieh we could not exist as social beings. This work, 
when it first appeared, was more applauded for its inge- 
nuity and the subtlety of thought and beauty of expres- 
sion by which many parts of it were marked, than for the 
conclusiveness of its reasonings ; but still it brought to 
its author a targe accession of admiration and fame. In 
1763 Smith was induced to resign his professorship for 
the purpose of accompanying the Duke of Buccleuch on 
a tour to France and other parts of the Continent. He 
was absent from England about three years, the greater 
part of which was spent in Paris, where he made the 
acquaintance of all the distinguished literary men of that 
capital. After his return home, in 1766, he retired to his 
native town of Kirkaldy, and taking up his abode in the 
house of his mother, spent the next ten years in seclu- 
sion and hard study. The result was th# publication, 
in the year 1776, of his * Inquiry into the Nature and 
Causes of the Wealth of Nations," a work which may al- 
most be said to have done for political economy what Sir 
Isaac Newton',8 Principia did for physical science — laid 
for it, namely, that new foundation upon which all that 
has since been done has been reared. But of this great 
work we shall present our readers with a more detailed 
account in an early number, under the head of the c Li- 
brary.' They still, we believe, show at Kirkaldy the 
room in Smith's house in which the 4 Wealth of Nations' 
was written, with the impression left upon the wall by 
the head of the philosopher as he used to lean back in 
his chair, buried in profound thought Though but a 
simple memorial, it is one of which hit townsmen may 



well be proud. In 1778, through the interest of the 
Duke of Buccleuch, Smith was appointed to the lucra 
tive office of commissioner of the customs, in conse- 
quence of which he removed with his mother to Edin- 
burgh, and here he spent the remainder of his life in 
comfort and affluence. He died on the 8th of July, 
1790, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. 

June 6. — This is the birth-day of Peter Corneille, 
the greatest of the French dramatists, who was born at 
Rouen in 1606. He was educated for the bar. A 
love adventure which befel him afte r he had prac- 
tised for some years as an advocate n his native city 
first turned his thoughts to dramatic composition, and 
furnished him with the subject of his 'comedy entitled 
Melife. The success of this piece, when it was ex- 
hibited at Paris, was so great that Corneille deter- 
mined for the future to devote himself to writing for the 
stage. Several of his next efforts were also comedies ; 
but in 1636 he produced his tragedy of Medea, and, 
soon after, that of the Cid, compositions in which Ms 
genius first displayed itself in its natural region and in 
its true grandeur. The 'Cid' was followed by a succes- 
sion of other tragedies — among which those entitled 
Horace and Cinria are especially celebrated, and remain 
to this day unrivalled in the dramatic literature of his 
country. Corneille' s reward during his life- time, how- 
ever, consisted of little else than his glory ; for it is re- 
lated that after the death of Colbert, a pension which 
that minister l^d bestowed upon him was withdrawn, 
though he was then poor, old, sickly, and dying, and it 
was only on the intercession of Boileau, who generously 
offered to resign his own pension on condition of Cor- 
neille's being "restored to him, that the king, Louis XIV., 
was moved to make him a present of 200 louis cTors. 
Corneille, after he dedicated himself to the drama, exhi- 
bited a remarkable example of devotion to the path 
which he had chosen — studying, we are told, scarcely 
anything except what bore, or might be made to bear 
upon his favourite pursuit. This great man died on the " 
1st of October, 1684. 

June 8. — The birth-day of John Dominic Cassini,r 
very celebrated astronomer, and the progenitor of a son 
and a grandson of nearly equal eminence in the same 
department of science. His family was noble, and he 
was born in Piedmont in the year 1635. The acci- 
dental perusal, while he was yet very young, of a 
work on astronomy, first inspired Cassini with a taste 
for that study ; and so extraordinary was the progress 
he made that, in 1650, being then only about fifteen*, 
he was, on the invitation of the Senate of Bologna, 
appointed to the professorship of mathematics in that 
university. "Two years after this he observed with re- 
markable care, a comet which appeared and confirmed 
the opinion which Tycho Brahe had published long 
before respecting the nature of these bodies, proving, 
in opposition to the ancient doctrine, that they were not 
mere meteors. He also this same year resolved an 
astronomical problem which had baffled the ingenuity 
of the greatest of his predecessors and contempora- 
ries, and which even Kepler had given up in despair. 
This brilliant success at so early an age was followed 
in the case of Cassini by a corresponding eminence 
in his maturer years. In 1669 he left Bologna for 
Paris on the earnest invitation of Louis XIV., and 
was immediately made a member of the Academy and 
Astronomer Royal. On the completion of the Roya^ 
Observatory, in 1671, he was appointed to preside ovcW 
it. The rest of his life was spent, as the preceding part 
of it had been, in the. service of his favourite science. 
Even the loss of his sight, some years before his death 
although it terminated his actual observation of. the 
heavenly bodies, failed to withdraw his mind from Hs 
wonted field of speculation. He died in 1712, at the 
age of seventy-seven, leaving many able works on astro- 
nomical and mathematical subjects. 



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THE WEATHER.-N0. 1. 
No term is more, familiar to every body than the term 
air. But if an uninsirucUd person were asked what 
the air was, his first answer would probably be, that it 
was nothing at all. This hand, he might say, which is 
now plunged in water, on being drawn out of the water 
is said to be lifted into the air — which means merely that 
there is nothing, or only vacancy, around it. In other 
words, he night say, the air is just the name that is given 
to the empty space, which is immediately over the sur- 
face of the earth. 

A little reflection, however, or a question or two more, 
would probably raise some doubts as to the correctness 
of this philosophy. If the air be nothing, it might be 
asked, what is the wind? Or what is it, even when 
there is no wind, which makes very light substances 
wave or flutter on being swiftly drawn through the air, 
or, when they are merely dropped from the* hand, de- 
tains them on their way to the ground ? Or, to take 
another illustration from the commonest experience, who 
is there that has not seen a bladder distended or swollen 
with air ? If the air be notning, how comes a portion 
of it to present such palpable resistance to pressure, 
when tlrus confined ? 

The trutn is, the air in which we walk is as much a 
real and substantial part of our world as the earth on 
which we walk. Empty space would no more do for 
our bodies to live in, tnan it would for our feet to tread 
upon. The atmosphere, that is, the case of air in which 
the solid globe is enveloped, is composed of matter as 
* well as that solid globe itself. As the one is matter in 
a solid, so the other is matter in a fluid state. It is 
merely a thinner fluid than the water, which also rests 
upon and encompasses a great part of the earth ; but 
as fishes exist and can only exist in their ocean of 
water, so do we exist and can only exist in our ocean 

« of air. 

The wtather is another term with which every body 
is familiar. But the weather is merely the state or 
condition of the air. Heat and cold, moisture and 
drought, wind and calm, all make themselves felt by 
us principally in and through this element. The study 
of the weather is but the study of the variations of the 
air. 
Man is so dependent upon the weather, not only for 

^ his comfort *but even for his subsistence, that to be able 
to ascertain its coming changes has naturally always 
been to him an object of extreme solicitude. When we 
are very desirous to attain any end, we are easily de- 
luded by whomsoever or whatsoever promises to help us 
in reaching it. The weather is one of the subjects upon 
which the credulity of mankind, thus excited, has in 
every age been taken plentiful advantage of; and, in- 
deed, it seems to be the one of all others over which 
superstition and imposture have succeeded in establish- 
ing the widest and firmest dominion. We have outlived 
most of the other fond beliefs of more ignorant times ; 
the love of money, though as strong and as universal 
a passion as ever, blinds nobody now to waste his time 
in the attempt to discover a solvent for turning all jnetals 
into gold ; the desire of long life ne longer keeps our 
medical chemists busy in experimenting how to extract 
or compound an elixir of immortality ; these hopes have 
pas^d away from the imaginations both of men of sci- 
^ ence and of the multitude. Even the predictions which 
astrology pretends to draw from the positions and move- 
ments of the stars as to the fates of individuals and 
k' gdoms, although they have still their readers, have 
lost much of the old faith which used to reverence them 
almost as direet intimations from . heaven. But the 
prognostications of the same vain science which are 
published every year on the subject of the weather con- 
tinue to be not only bought but believed in, almost as 
much as they were in the darkest ages, by hundredaof 



thousands, even in our own comparatively enlightened 
England. ' Moore's Almanac* still sells a quarter of a 
million of copies. If this were the proper place it might 
not; perhaps, be difficult to point out the causes which 
have kept this particular superstition alive so long after 
so many others have perished, and been nearly forgotten ; 
but it will be more to the present purpose to state in a 
few words the grounds on which it may be confidently 
pronounced to be to the full as visionary and absurd as 
any of those which it has survived. 

The weather, as we have remarked, is but another 
name for the state of the air, as to heat or cold, dryness 
or humidity, rest or motion, and perhaps one or two 
other similar particulars. The causes, therefore, which 
influence the condition of the air in these respects are 
those that occasion the' variations of the weather ; and 
these variations cannot be foretold unless we could cal- 
culate and measure the exact force of all those influencing 
causes. There is plainly no other way of arriving at 
the knowledge in question. To pretend to divine it, as 
the almanac-makers affect to do, from the movements of 
one or two particular stars, is as idle as it would be to 
attempt to discover what wind should blow on a cer- 
tain day in December by the motion of a bit of straw or 
paper thrown up into .the air in the preceding January. 
Even if it were proved, which it by no means either is 
or is likely to be, that the positions of the heavenly bodies 
in question really exerted any effect whatever upon our 
atmosphere, and if the amount of that effect could he 
calculated, the ascertainment of it would be of no use, 
unless we could also ascertain the force of all the other 
operating influences. Without this we are, at the bebt, 
merely in the condition of the man who should attempt 
to describe the whole of a large building from the in- 
spection of one of the bricks brought from its ruins. 
Were our almanac prophets, therefore, even to take the 
trouble of going through any calculation to get at the 
information with which they favour us, it would not be 
the more valuable or trustworthy on that account. But 
,it is almost needless to remark, that they do not pro 
ceed through their work of solemn quackery and fraud 
with so much form and ceremony. The " dull, though 
mild," " fair and frosty," * mild for the season/' " frosty 
and more fair," " rain, perhaps hail," " windy, perhaps 
rain,'' and other phrases of their cheating trade, which 
they scribble at intervals, along the calendar, are come 
at by an easier process than even the simplest or shortest 
calculation — being in fact, with the exception of course 
that some regard is had to the general character of 
the different seasons, put down merely at random. 
There is not an individual among all those by whom 
the oracle is consulted, who might not in half an hour 
manufacture quite as good a calendar of the weather 
for himself. 

Even the most accomplished science* in truth, has as 
yet made comparatively but very little way into this most 
difficult subject. The principal properties of the air, 
both chemical and mechanical, have indeed been ascer- 
tained. The apparently simple element has been sepa- 
rated into its two component ingredients of nitrogen 
and oxygen. Its weight has been taken. Its elas- 
ticity, or capability of compression and expansion, has 
been measured. Instruments have been invented for 
detecting the quantity of heat, or of moisture, or of 
electricity, with which it may at any particular moment 
be charged. But the knowledge of all these different 
circumstances and properties enables us to do but little 
in predicting the coming changes of the weather. The 
property of the air, from the observations of which inti- 
mations of this kind have hitherto been chiefly derived, 
is its weight ; and even this can only tell us at most, 
what the weather is to be for a few hours forward, and 
does not always speak to us to that extent either very 
certainly or very precisely. 



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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 



[June 9, 1882. 



GREENWICH. 

The walk to Greenwich is not the most attractive of the 
walks in the environs of London. It is almost a con- 
tinued street from each of the bridges; and though the 
road is wide, and the bouses occasionally pretty, the 
holiday-maker may become impatient for the green fields, 
and weary of the bushe from which he appears unable to 
escape. The best mode of visiting Greenwich is by 
water. For two shillings and sixpence, four persons 
may take a boat at London Bridge and be landed close 
to the Royal Hospital; and every 
passage- boats are constantly plying 
which passengers are taken for i 
Thames, covered with the vessels 
fitly prepare the mind for visiting 
veterans who have sailed un4M r the* British flag during 
many a year of tempest i*Lpf battle. Now you will 
pass alongside the hulk of so£jt immense ship, destined 
to be broken up, of whose former pride the waterman 
will tell you some stirring tales, and you may think of 
these fine lines 'of Campbell, which stir the heart " as 
with a trumpet :" — 

" Britannia needs no bulwark, 

No towera along the steep ; 
Her march is o'er the mountain waves, 

Her home is on the deep." 

Again, some steam-vessel from Boulogne, or Hamburgh, 
or the Rhine, will sweep by, heaving the wave all around 
in its impetuous course; — and you may reflect how 
much nobler are the triumphs of peace than those of 
war, and- that the unbounded commerce of England is 
a better thing for herself and the world ^than even her 
proudest victories. In the mean time, the domes and 
Vol. I 



colonnades of Greenwich ^v ill rise from the shore, and 
impress your mind with a magnificence of which the 
architecture of England presents few examples; — and 
you will feel an honest pride when you know that few 
of the great ones of the earth possess palaces to be com- 
pared with the splendour of this pile, which the gratitude 
of our nation has assigned as the retreat of its wounded 
and worn-out sailors. 

When you land, you will not indeed realize the 
poetical rapture of Dr. Johnson — you will not literally 
exclaim, 

# " Struck with the seat which gave Eliza birth, 

I kneel and kiss the consecrated earth:" 

but you may recollect, with reverence, that Greenwich 
was a favoured place of this Queen. It was here that 
Elizabeth might dairy behold the real strength of her 
island empire ; and here, as her navy sailed beneath Jier 
palace-walls, she might bestow upon her fleets that en- 
couragement which, under the blessing of God, enabled 
her to effect the destruction of that " Invincible Armada,** 
vainly destined, by the ambition of a haughty king, to 
make England * 

" Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror ." 

The greater part of the buildings of the Royal Hos- 
pital of Greenwich is stone ; the architecture is of the , 
Roman character, rather plain in its general details, but 
acquiring great features of magnificence fiom its large 
dimensions, from the material of which it is executed, 
from its porticoes, its splendid domes and its long colon- 
nades. The whole of the buildings are open to the 
river. On a fine day, the old pensioners may be seen 
standing about in groups, or taking a solitary walk m 

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[June 0, 



the courts of the Hospital, or intent upon some book of 
devotion, or of inspirir g adventures. In the beautiful 
adjoining park they appear to find much deli^nt in ram- 
bling ; and many of them establish themselves on some 
green kno* , provided with a telescope, the wonders of 
which they exhibit to strangers, and point out, with all 
the talkativeness of age, the remarkable objects which 
may be seen on every side. The appearance of these 
veterans,— some without a leg or arm, others hobbling 
from the infirmities of wounds or of years, mid all 
clothed in old-fashioned blue coats and breeches with 
cocked hats, — would oddly contrast with he splendour 
of the building *vhich they inhabit did n t the recollec- 
tion that these men were nmonp t the } oblest defenders 
of their country give a dignity to t)>e objects which 
everywhere present themselves, and make the crutch of 
the veteran not a discordant association with the gran- 
deur of Ihe fabric in which he finds his final port, after 
the storms of a \\f$ of enterprise and danger. 

The habitations of the" pensioners are divided into 
wards, each bearing a name, which has been, or might 
be, appropriated to a ship. These wards consist of large 
and airy rooms, on .either side of which there are little 
cabins, in which each roan has his bed. If you should 
obtain permission tp go through a ward (which is not 
usually allowed to strangers), you will see how deeply 
implanted in the human breast is the love of individual 
property. Every cabin has some convenience or orna- 
ment, the exclusive possession of its tenant ; and these 
little appendages Jead pne to speculate upon the cha- 
racter of the man to whom they belong. In one may 
be seen a ballad and a ludicrous print ; in another, a 
Christmas carol and a Bible. In large communities, 
and particularly in a collegiate life, men must greatly 
subdue their personal habits and feelings to the character 
of their society ; but the individuality of the human 
mind wil 1 still predominate, and will display itself in a 
thousand little particulars, each of which would furnish 
to the accurate inquirer an increased knowledge of the 
human heart. 

The pensioners mess in common. They as<=<? nib'e for 
their Sabbath devotions in the Chapel of the i>o-pital, 
a modern building, perhaps trie most splendid and most 
tasteful in its decorations of any place of worship in the 
kingdom. It has not, however, the simplicity and sober- 
ness of a temple of the Most High; and the elaborate 
nature of its ornaments appears particularly unsnited to 
the character of its congregation. The ** Painted Hall," 
n no! ile room opposite the chapel, is now a gallery of 
naval part raits and of sea-fights. It contains some fine 
pictures, arranged with great taste. The idea wa« a 
baipy one*. 

It is said, by those who intimately know the habits of 
the old pensioners, that they are not generally happy. 
The/ are provided with every comfort, they are treated 
with every kindness, they have no laborious duties im- 
posed upon them; but they have nothing to hope. or 
to fear — they want employment — they are alone in a 
crQwd — they have no wife or child to partake their plea- 
sures or soothe their pains — they are friendless amongst 
multitudes — the heart is desolate in the midst of worldly 
comfort. These circumstances arise from an essential 
property of our nature, and no care to make these poor 
men happy .would overcome the undeviating laws of 
human feeling. Happiness does not wholly depend 
upon outward circumstances; but if the Greenwich 
pensioners could be brou-rht impartially to exhibit the 
degrees of happiness whbh prevail amongst them, we 
should find that he was most happy who was living by 
the greater portion of his little pittance for a heart that 
lie loved, and was building up his own happiness by a 
preparation for eternity; while he was most miserable 

* The pictures of this gallery ere now being engraved, autl are 
published periodically, with biographies, by Mr. locker, one of the 
ygmnVmiopcii of the Hospital. 



who was most exempt, in the common ncccptation, from 
care, and who acquired as much passing gratification as 
his situation could reach. 



STATISTICAL NOTES. 

ENGLAND AI^D WALES (CONTINUED). 

(14.) There has never been in England any imtional 
provision for the education of the people. The free 
Grammar Schools, and the two Universities of Oxford 
and Cambridge, derive their revenues, not from the 
nation, but from the munificence of the individuals who 
founded them. No country rivals England in the mag- 
nificence of her academical buildings. The University 
of Oxford contains nineteen colleges and five halls, and 
that of Cambridge thirteen colleges and four halls ; 
whilst the universities on the Continent seldom possess 
more than a single pile of building, like that of the 
London University. The number of students in Oxford 
and Cambridge together exceeds three thousand. The 
endowments of the Colleges arise chiefly from land. 
A part of their funds usually goes to the students under 
the name of exhibitions or scholarships; apart to the 
head and fellows; and a further part, consisting in 
church livings, devolves on the clerical fellows in succes- 
sion, and leads to their removal irom the University. 
According to the returns made to Parliament in 1818, 
there were then in England 4,167 endowed schools with 
a revenue amounting to 300,525/.; 14,28:2 unendowed 
schools; and 5,162 Sunday-schools. By means of 
these schools 644,282 children, chiefly of the working 
classes, received instruction; of whom 322,518 were 
taught gratuitously, and 321,764 paid for their educa- 
tion. There have not been any official returns on this 
subject since 1818, but from the answers to the circular 
letters of Mr. Brougham (the present Lord Chancellor) 
in J 828, it was estimated that in 1S29 there could not 
be less* than a million and a half of the children of. the 
humbler classes who were then receiving in England the 
advantages of education. Now the number of children 
of both sexes between the ages of five and twehe in 
England hardly exceeds two millions; and deducting 
the number which may be presumed to be taught in 
the higher schools, a reasonable hope may be entertained 
that no very large portion of the children of the work- 
ing classes are now wanting the means of instruction. 
Still, that instruction is in many respects so deficient, 
and there are so many parishes yet without schools, that 
there is great need of exertions foi the diffusion of educa- 
tion, notwithstanding all that has yet been done. 

(15.) The soil of England is suited to a great 
variety of products. It has not the exuberant fertility 
of southern climates, but the quantity of moisture makes 
it well adapted to pasture. Those who have visite'd the 
Continent, and have witnessed the parched and arid 
state of the richest plains in the months of autumn, tire 
much s'ruck with 4his verdure, wfiieh an A merit, an 
writer has call* 1 '' the greeuth of England. The best 
husbandry, as in Scotland, is in the east parts of Eng-- 
laud, particularly in Norfolk and Northumberland. '1 he 
deposits of coals and metals are in the northern a! id 
western districts, particularly in Durham, Westmorland 
Lancashire, Shropshire, Worcestershire, North and South 
Wales, Devon, and Cornwall. In Lincoln and Cam- 
bridgeshire much improvement has lately been made by- 
draining, and the fens in those counties are well ad i|»te<l 
to oats. Norfolk is famous for bailey; Lt ice-tors! ; ire 
is the first of the grazing counties; Herefordshire is 
remarkable, for orchards ; and Worcestershire aud Kent 
for hops. 

(16) The following Table, made by Mr. Coir/icr, 

some years ago, gives the results of his computation 

of the extent of land in cultivation in England and 

Wales. Without rely'ng implicitly o& its exactness, it 

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may be folk™ & guide to the present state of things* 
n default of more recent or correct estimates. The 
extent of hop, nursery, garden, and pleasure grounds, 
appear in particular to be under- rated. 

Wheat 3,300.1)00 

Bailey and Kye l',(.00!0()0 

Oats and Bcar.s 3,000.000 

Clovir. Ryegrass. &~ 1,200,000 

Roots and Cabbagts, cultivated by the plgugh . 1,2' 0.000 

Fallow 2,300,0,0 

. Hop-grounds 34.000 

Kuiscry-^ioumls 9,000 

Fruit unci Kit ehui Gardens . .* . . . . 41,000 

Pltasurv-grouncU 16,0(10 

Land di pastured by Cattle 17,0CO,0CO 

Hedgerow's, Cupsts, and Woods 1,000. COO 

Ways. "Watrr, &c 1, 00\000 

Commons aud Waste Lands . . ; ... 5.094,000 



Total 



37,094,000 



(17.) The quantity of corn raised per acre \aries, 
of course, according to the soil. The produce o{ wheat 
on some spots amounts to 6 quarters, in others to I J 
quarter per acre , but 2 J quarters for wheat, 4 /or bar- 
ley, and 4 J for oats, may be staled as a fair average 
return. The average weight of a bushel o[ good English 
wheat is Sbout 58 lbs. ; in bad seasons it does not exceed 
56 or 57, but in good years it is found to weigh from 60 
to 62, and in some spots 64 lbs. It yields 43 lbs. of flour 
for standard wheaten bread, or 46^ lbs. for household 
bread. The culture of rye and buck wheat in England 
has, of late years, been much diminished. The quantity 
of hops annually raised is very fluctuating, but may be 
computed at .an annual average of 20,000,0tJ0 of pounds. 

(18.) The climate of England is that of an insular 
country, subject to rain, and exempt from the se\erity of 
heat or cold that is felt in similar latitudes. Westerly 
winds, the most prevalent of all, are one of the chief 
- causes. All the coast of Lancashire is flat. The west 
coast being the most hilly and mountainous, and exposed 
to the Atlantic, is more rainy than the east, where the 
country is more level, and the expanse of adjacent water 
less considerable. During the six winter months, from 
October to March, the mean temperature of the central 
part of England is commonly between 42 and 43 degrees 
of Fahrenheit's thermometer. In December, January, 
and February, it is generally below 40°: in July and 
August 62° to 65°. The mean annual temperature, 
noon and night, of tke central part of England, is about 
50°. The greatest heat seldom exceeds b0°, and the 
cold of December or January is rarely below 20° or 25°. 
In mild situations in Devonshire and Cornwall, the 
winter temperature is 3, 4, and even 5 degrees higher 
than in London. Penzance is the spot in England least 
visited by severe cold. The* average quantity of rain in 
the north-west of England, particularly in \VcstmurJund 
and Lancashiie, is 45, 50, and sometimes 60 inches, 
while the average of the kingdom at large is from 30 to 
40. The prevalent winds are the west and south-west. 

(19.) The total length of the paved streets and 
roads in England and Wales is estimated at 20,4)00 
miles, and that of all other roads at about 1 00,0U0 miles. 
The average annual expenditure thereupon may he 
taken at a million and a half sterling, being at the rate 
of 12/. 10s. per mile. Jn 1823, the total extent of turn- 
pike roads in Great Britain was 24,531 miles, whereof 
the annual income was 1,214,716/., and the debt 
5,200,000/. In the same year the total length of canals 
in (ireat Britain, including those under five miles, was 
2,589 miles. ^y£ 

(To be contix^lp 

INSCRIPTIONS. 
Sir William Jones, describing his visit to the small 
Island of Johanna, near the eastern coast of Africa, 



says, •• I surprised the natives by reading to them aloud 
an Arabic inscription over the gate of a mosque, and 
stjll more when I entered it, by explaining some sen- 
tences which were written very distinctly on the wall, 
signifying ' that the world was given us for our own 
edification, not for the purpose of raising sumptuous 
buildings ; life for the discharge of moral and religious 
duties, not for pleasurable indulgences; wealth to be 
liberally bestowed, not avariciously hoarded; and learning 
to produce good actions, not empty disputes.' We 
could not," adds Sir W. Jones, "but respect the temple 
even of a false prophet in which we found such excellent 
morality." 

The religion of the Mahommedans forbids their orna- 
menting their walls with pictures or representations of the 
human form; but their practice of decorating not only 
their places '!" worship, but their private houses and 
apartments, w.H. religious and moral sentences, extracted 
from the Koran, or the writings of their philosophers, 
has always appeared to us a custom founded both in good 
taste and wisdom. W we recollect .right, Miss Edire- 
worth, in some part of those numerous and admirable 
works with which she has delighted and improved the 
world, founds an interesting and useful story upon the 
effect which the simple inscription of " waste vot, want 
not," over the door of a servants' -hall, had upon a child, 
on whose after-life Hhat single sentence produced a per- 
manent and most happy influence ; and is it not obvious 
that a serious and profitable reflection might often be 
excited by the sight of a sentence applicable to the cir- 
cumstances in which a man finds himself at the moment? 
Is it not more than probable that he might be encouraged 
to do a generous deed, or be deterred from doing a cruel 
or unkind one, if his eye were suddenly arrested by a 
strong appeal to his- feeling or his understanding? It 
has often struck us, that not only the servants' -hall, or 
the nursery, the drefcsing-room of the fine lady* or the 
hall or gallery of the country house, but the tradesman's 
parlour and the cottager's kitchen, might be made to 
shed rays of moral light from their walls, by a selection 
of inscriptions, chosen with judgment, and arranged 
with taste. If it served but the purpose of turning the 
attention of the accidental loiterer from himself to his 
fellow-creatures; if a melancholy and despairing mood 
could be roused to a cheerful hope; if a feeling of discon- 
tent could be checked and subdued, even for the passing 
moment, — it would be an effect that the upholsterer has 
not, we suspect, often succeeded in producing. This 
plan was adopted by the wise and benevolent Oberlin, 
the pastor of Waldbach, of whose extraordinary efforts 
in the cause of public instruction we shall give an account 
in a future number. 



^companion that is cheerful, and fru i .::. - vt-anng ana 
scurrilous ditcoursc, is worth gold. 1 h*;,. i<1i mirth us 
doos not make friends ashamed to I.uk. \-.\. a one another 
r.oxt ixtoming; nor men, that cannot well beur it, to repent 
the* money they spend when thpy he warmed with drink. 
And take this for a rale : you may pick ou£ such times 
and such companions, that you may make yourselves 
merrier for a&ttle than a great deal of money ; for " "Tis the 
company and not the charge that makes the feast." — 
IzaaJi IVulion. 



When we read the lives of distinguished men m any 
department, we find thera almost always celebrated for the 
amount of labour they could perform. Demosthenes, Julius 
Cajsar, Henry the Fourth of France, Lord Bacon, Sir Isaac 
Newton, Franklin, Washington, Napoleon,— cnfferent\A3 
they were in their intellectual and moral qualities,— were aU 
renowned as hard-workers. We tead how many days they 
could support the fatigues of i march ; how early they rose ; 
how late they watched ; hew many hours they spent in the 
field, in the cabinet, in the court; how many secretaries 
they kept employed; in short, how hard they worked.-* 
Everett* * Discourse. ^ . 



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I observed on the way a tree with an enormous nest 
of those birds to which I have given the appellation of 
republicans; and, as soon as I arrived at my camp, I 
despatched a few men, with a waggon, to bring it to me, 
that I might open the hive, and examine its structure in 
its minutest parts. When it arrived, I cut it to pieces 
with a hatchet, and saw that the chief portion of the 
structure consisted of a mass of Boshman's grass, with- 
out any mixture, but so compact and firmly basketed 
together as to be impenetrable to the rain. This is the 
commencement of the structure ; and each bird builds 
its particular nest under this canopy. But the nests are 
formed only under the eaves of the canopy, the upper 
surface remaining void, without, however, being useless; 
for, as it has a projecting rim, and is a little inclined, it 
serves to let the rain-water run off, and preserves^ach 
little dwelling from the rain. Figure to yourself a huge 
irregular sloping root; and all the eaves of which are 
completely covered with nests, crowded one against 
another, and you will have a tolerably accurate idea of 
these singular edifices. 

Each individual nest is three or four inches in diame- 
ter, which is sufficient for the bird. But as they are all 
in contact with one another, around the eaves, they 
appear to the eye to form but one building, and are dis- 
tinguishable from each other only by a little external 
aperture, which serves as an entrance to the nest ; and 
even this is sometimes common to three different nests, 
one of which is situated at the bottom, and the other 
two at the sides. According to Paterson, the nugiber of 
cells increasing in proportion to the increase of inhabi- 
tants, the old ones become " streets of communication, 
formed by line and level." No doubt, as the republic 
increases, the cells must be multiplied also. But it is 
easy to imagine that, as the augmentation can take place 
only at ' the -surface, the new buildings will necessarily 
cover the old ones, which must therefore be abandoned. 

Should these even, contrary to all probability, be able 
to subsist, it may be presumed that the depths of their 
situation, by preventing any circulation and renewal of 
the air, would render them so extremely hot as to be 
uninhabitable. But while they thus become useless, 
they would remain what they were before, real nests, and 
change neither into streets nor sleeping-rooms. 

The large nest that I examined was one of the most 
considerable I had anywhere seen in the course of my 
journey, and contained three hundred and twenty inha- 
bited cells, which, supposing a male and female to each, 



would form a society of six bundled and forty indi- 
viduals. * Such a calculation, however, would not be 
exact I have met with binds among which one male is 
in common to several females, because the females are 
much more numerous than the males. The same is the 
case with many species, both in the environs of the Cape 
and in the colony ; but it is particularly so among the 
republicans. Whenever I have fired at a flock of these 
birds, I have always shot four times as many females as 
males. 

NATIONAL GALLERY.-No. 2. 
Ikj order to form a correct judgment of a picture, it is 
necessary to bear in mind the school to which the master 
belonged ; for the different schools of painting were 
influenced by very different views, and are appreciated 
for various excellences, frequently of an opposite cha- 
racter. The masters of the Roman and Florentine 
schools turned their attention almost exclusively to the 
merits of design : their works are recommended to us by 
correct and powerful drawing, grace and beauty of form, 
sublime conception, and well-defined expression and 
character. Minor attractions are neglected: if we find 
harmony of colour it is all we expect. The Venetian 
painters, on the contrary, bestowed their chief care on 
that branch of the art which relates to colour ; and not 
only have they succeeded in representing nature with 
wonderful force and brilliancy, but by the scientific 
arrangement of their colours, by collecting the warm and 
cold tints into broad masses, by harmonious blending or 
judicious contrast, they have succeeded in giving an 
effect to their works to which the epithet fascinating may 
be applied without exaggeration. The works of the£ 
Roman school, doubtless, afford the finest subjects of 
contemplation to the enlightened connoisseur ; but the 
charms of Venetian art so completely satisfy the eye, 
that we are apt to forget the absence of higher qualities 
which address themselves directly to the imagination* 
and are calculated to affect it more deeply. 

Titian holds by universal consent the first rank in 
the Venetian school. Of all painters he depicted with 
the greatest truth the glowing and luminous character 
of flesh tints : he designed with so much feeling as io 
compensate for the absence of strict purity, and for occa- 
sional incorrectness resulting from imperfect knowledge 
of the anatomy of the human frame : the brilliant effect 
of his pictures is produced without the aid of meretri- 
cious attractions, and a simple dignity pervades them 
which is well suited to the grandest style of historical 
composition. Our National Collection boasts of three 
fine works of this master, and they happily afford ex- 
amples of three distinct styles which he adopted at 
different periods of his life. 

The Bacchus and Ariadne was an early work of 
Titian, painted while he was still an aspirant for fame, 
and to it he owed the first rise of his great reputation. 
It is highly and justly celebrated for the splendid effect 
of its colouring; and a few observations on the arrange- 
ment by which this effect is produced, may be useful 10 
many of our readers to guHe them in investigating the 
principles of the art of colouring as practised by the 
Venetian masters. The warm colours are collected into 
a mass near the centre of the picture by the deep-toned 
flesh tints, the red and yellow draperies, and the warm 
brown of the car and leopards. The principal mass of 
cold colours is formed by the blue drapery of the Ariadne, 
and the blue of the sea, sky, and distant landscape. In 
order to effect a balance between the masses, a portion of 
red drapery is gi^gj^to the figure of Ariadne (which also 
serves to detach uH^iure from the sea), while the blue 
drapery on the female figure in the principal group, and 
the cool grey tints of the ground, connect the cold 
colours of the picture with the warm mass, and serve by 
contrast to give brilliancy to the latter : tiie connection 
is rendered more complete by the varied tints of the 



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the reason probably was, that a column of water of that 
height was just equal in weight to ;i column of air 
standing on as large a base, or. in other words, being of 
the same diameter or thickness, and reaching to the top 
of the atmosphere. It was tue pressure of this column 
of air, he concluded, upon the external and exposed 
surface of the water, which pushed the water within the 
pump up to the height to which it did rise in the 
vacuum or empty space there; and it only failed in rising 
80 far as thirty-four feet, because that pressure, by which 
St was impelled, was not great enough to send it so 
high. But if this explanation be correct, he went on to 
reason, the same thing should hold in the case of any 
other liquid than water, with this difference, that the 
height to which the other liquid will rise in the vacuum 
should be just so much less or greater than that to 
which the water rises, as its weight is greater or less 
than that of water. If water* for instance, is pushed up 
thirty-three feet, mercury, which is known to be thirteen 
times and a half as heavy as water, should rise only 
, about thirty .inches. To try whether it was so, Torri- 
cclli took a long glass tube, close at one end, and 
filled it to the brim with mercury. , He then inverted 
the tube, shutting the open end with his finger to pre- 
vent the escape of the mercury, until he plunged it into 
% basin full of the same liquid, when he withdrew his 
finger, and left the mercury in the tube to communicate 
freely with that in the basin. His delight must have 
been great* when he saw the former immediately flow 
out and descend from the top of the tube until it stood 
exactly at the height of thirty inches above the surface 
of the exposed liquid, as he had anticipated that it 
would. It was now plain that the same cause which 
elevated water in a vacuum to the height of thirty-three 
feet, elevated mercury to that of thirty inches ; and as 
the proportion between those two heights was exactly 
that between the weights of the two liquids, nothing 
could be more evident than that the elevation of each 
was. occasioned by the operation of some common 
counterbalance just equivalent to the weight of thirty- 
three feet of water, or of thirty inches of mercury. But 
the only agent which in the circumstances could by 
possibility operate as such counterbalance, was the 
column of air reaching from the exposed surface of the 
liquid to the summit of the atmosphere. 

Some years after Toaicelli had made this famous 
experiment, another great mathematician, Pascal, sug- 
gested another very ingenious way of confirming its 
result. This was to carry the tube with the mercury 
up to a considerable height in the air, in order to see 
if the elevation at which the liquid stood would be 
diminished with the diminished length of the counter- 
balancing atmospheric column. The tml was made, 
and succeeded perfectly. When conveyed to the tops of 
high buildiugs and of mountains, the mercury in the 
tube always fell in proportion to the diminution that 
had taken place in the weight of air pressing upon it 
from without, and by which alone it was held u\>. 
But it was not till some time after this that the 
contrivance was used as a weather-glass. It was ap- 

Slied to this purpose on occasion of a new discovery 
ring made, namely, that the weight of the atmosphere 
was not, as had been at first taken for granted, always 
the same at the same level, but that, even when the 
tube was not removed to any higher station, the height 
to which the liquid stood in it fluctuated considerably 
from time to time. This showed that the weight 'of the 
atmosphere at any particular spot «u the earth's surface 
was itself subject to variation. Observation soon dis- 
covered that the changes in the height of the barometrical 
column were genera.ly followed by changes in the wea- 
ther ; the former, accordhiglv, came to be referred to as 
prophetic of the latter; and from that time the instru- 
ment assumed quite a new character and value. 



It affords a striking evidence of the difficulty of this 
subject, that even up to the present day, scientific in- 
quirers are not agreed as to the manner in which tl.esc 
chauges, that undoubtedly take place in the weight of 
the atmosphere and are indicated by the barometer, are 
actually effected. Many successive theories, or attemnt* 
to account for the phenomena, have been proposed aud 
refuted; nor have even the latest writers who have 
treated of the matter ventured to do more than merely 
to offer what seems to them the most plausible guess at 
a true hypothesis. Those who would study the most 
able and elaborate investigation of the whole subject 
that has yet appeared, are referred to Mr. Daniells 
Meteorological Essays. Here we can only briefly 
point out the general principle upon which the changes 
in question depend. 

There can be no doubt that the primary agent in the 
production of these atmospheric fluctuations is heat 
This influence, from various causes, is very unequally 
distributed over the different parts both of the earth and 
of the air, and in the same place is much greater at one 
time than it is at another. Heat may affect the weight 
of a portion of the atmosphere by expanding its volume, 
or, in other words, by causing the same number of airy 
particles (that is, the same weight of air) to occupy more 
space. When this spreading takes place iif the air over 
any particular part of the earth's surface, the diminished 
pressure on the exposed portion of the mercury in a 
barometer will of course be shown by the diminished 
elevation of that in the tube. But it will occasion other 
effects also in the air itself. The more condensed air 
from distant places will soon begin to rush with more or 
less violence towards the situation of diminished pressure. 
In other words, wind will occur. But the increase 6f 
heat has been in the mean time also occasioning a more 
rapid and plentiful evaporation of moisture from the 
earth, which rising into the air in the form of an invisible 
vapour, has of course produced more than the usual 
accumulation there, and is therefore ready to fall 
again to the earth as soon as the reduction of tem- 
perature takes place. Hence, in such circumstances, the 
occurrence sometimes of mist or dew, at other times of 
rain, or snow, or hail. The process, in short, is this : — 
the heat, operating upon the air, dilates it, diminishes its 
weight, and consequently lowers the mercury in the 
barometer; operating upon the terrestrial moisture, 
raises it by evaporation into the air, which consequently 
soon becomes charged with more than its usual quantity 
of humidity. Theu come the wind, the fall of tempera 
ture, and the rain, in the manner we have already 
described. A fall in the barometer, accordingly, is found 
by experience to be in general indicative of all these 
coming changes. 

It will be evident, however, even from this general ex- 
planation, that it i« the rise or fall of the mercury, and not 
the mere height at which it actually stands, that is to be 
principally attended to in interpreting the prognostica- 
tions of the instrument For this reason the words, /»//>, 
rain % stormy* &c. which are written over against particular 
degrees on the attached scale, are more likely to deceive 
than to guide an inexperienced or uninstructed observer. 
The thing to attend to is whether the mercury has changed 
its elevation or exhibits any tendency to do so. Its ten- 
dency to rise or fall; even when it has not actually moved, 
may sometimes be detected by gently tapping the glass 
with the finger, which will leave it more at libeily to play, 
by severing it from any slight adhesion to the glass. 

Besides the common barometer, there are others made 
in different fojM^^ith the view of affording mote con- 
venient or mofl Bt indications, or of adaptation to 
particular circi^ Bes. In the common ,baromcter, 
consisting of a straight glass tube in which the mercury 
moves, with a graduated scale fixed alongside ui it, ihe 
index is necessarily limited to the mere extent of thfe 



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actual range of the mercury, which rarely exceeds three 
inches. In order to obtain an index of greater length, 
aud therefore more minutely divisible, what is called the 
wheel barometer has been contrived, in which the indi- 
cations are made by a hand like that of a clock moving 
round a circle, and obeying a thread connecting it with 
a little tloat winch rests on the exposed surface of the 
mercury. When a barometer is constructed to be used 
ou shipboard, it k made with one part of the tube con- 
tracted to a very narrow bore, so as to prevent the 
enclosed liquid from being disturbed by the heaving of 
the ship. Dr. Arnott, in his ' Elements of Physics,' 
relates an anecdote strikingly illustrative of the value of 
this instrument. " To the husbandman," he says, " the 
barometer is of considerable use, by aiding and correct- 
ing the -prognostics of the weather which he draws from 
local signs familiar to him; but its great use as a 
weather-glass seems to be to the mariner, who roams 
over the whole ocean, and is often under skies and cli- 
mates altogether new to him. The watchful captain of 
the present day, trusting to this extraordinary monitor, 
is frequently enabled to take in sail and to make ready 
for the storm, where in former times the dreadful visi- 
tation would have fallen upon him unprepared. The 
marine barometer has not yet been in general use for 
many years, and the author was one of a numerous crew 
who probably owed their preservation to its almost mira- 
culous warning. It was in a southern latitude. The sun 
had just set with placid appearance, closing a beautiful 
afternoon, and the usual mirth of the evening watch was 
proceeding, when the captain's order came to prepare 
wjth all haste for a storm. The barometer had begun 
to fall with appalling rapiditv. As yet the oldest sailors 
had not perceived even a threatening in the sky, and 
were surprised at the extent and hurry of the prepara- 
tions ; but the required measures were not completed, 
when a more awful hurricane burst upon them than the 
most experienced had ever braved. Nothing could 
withstand it ; the sails already furled and closely bound 
to the yards were riven away in tatters ; even the bare 
yards and masts were in great part disabled ; and at one 
time the whole rigging had nearly fallen by the board. 
Such for a few hours was the mingled roar of the hurri- 
cane above, of the waves around, and of the incessant 
pea's of thunder, that no human voice could be heard, 
and amidst the general consternation even the trumpet 
sounded in vain. In that awful night, but for the little 
tube of mercury which had given the warning, neither 
the strength of the noble ship, nor the skill and energies 
of the commander, could have saved one man to tell the 
tale. On the following morning the wind was again at 
rest, but the ship lay upon the yet heaving waves, an 
unsightly wreck." 

REAL HEROISM. 

Madame de Gen lis, in one of her interesting works for 
youth, gives a touching example of the gratitude of a young 
fmiale servant who, after the death of her mistress, devoted 
herself to the accomplishment of a design which that lady 
had formed, but which death prevented her carrying into 
execution. 

TJiu young person, tho offspring of poor parents, had 
been left an orphan at an early age. Mrs. S. took compas- 
sion u;io:i her, received her into her house, and gave her a 
useful education, so that she was soon capable of becoming 
her sen ant. This beneficent lady was far from rich, yet she 
devoted herself to the improvement of the condition of her 
fworer neighbours. She formed the plan of founding a 
school for female children, and began to^ve, put of her 
small income, a sum sufficient for its ej^^hment Whilst 
occupied with this intention, she wafl Ho with a dan- 
gerouj illness— she felt that her enWHrnear, and she 
lamented to her young attendant that the design she had 
fcrined must now fail— that she should die— and there 
w?>uid be no school. Her words proved true ; she died, and 

ith her, apparently, terminated this fondly cherished plan. 



We will not dwell on the err** f of the poor young woman 
thus suddenly depriv ed of her eerly friend. etter thoughts 
than those of lamentation filled -her w.'wA and vsa] t 
above the considers k \ of self. 

She Icii the village, and cr.ter v l into a new i»T.~re. 'i;.«i 
by the continued pmc-icc of the mo-t ruid economy, suc- 
ceeded, nt tho end of three years, in acquiring the sum ne- 
cessary to found the school her mistress had been so anxious 
to establish. The circumstances here narrated took place 
in France, where less money was requisite for such an un- 
dertaking than would be required in England. Fifty crowns 
was the sum amas»ed by this heroic girl, through the means 
of industry- and the practice of sell-denial. 

She wrote to the clergyman of the village, enclosing her 
little savings, begging him to cany into execution the wishes 
of her deceased mistress, with which he had been made ac- 
quainted ; adding that she should herself have been the 
bearer of the money, but that she had not sufficient left to 
defray the expenses of the journey. 



SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF FERDINAND KING 
OF NAPLES. 

The late King Ferdinand of Naples, so well known as 
the Lazaroni Monarch, and as one of the most illiterate, 
indolent, and careless men of Europe, was all his life 
so devoted to the pleasures of the chase, that he can 
hardly be said to have thought of anything else. When 
the French armies were a second time approaching his 
frontiers, to drive him a second time from his beautiful 
kingdom, a grand council was assembled at Portici, to 
deliberate on what was to be done in so tremendous a 
crisis. His Queen, Caroline of Austria, (sister to Marie- 
Antoinette of France,) who was as active as her Consort 
was indolent, always presided at the council table. Tin's 
dav, as might be expected, in face of such danger, the 
deliberations were serious and long. The King became 
impatient; and, after looking several times out of the 
window at the weather, which was favourable for snm*» 
sport, he rose, and thus delivered himself: "Caroline, 
what are we to do? If we are to run away, let 
us run ; but if we are to stay, tell me, that I may go 
shooting ! " 

At a later period, when he had no wife to transact 
business for him, die would invariably quit the council, 
no matter how important and urajgnt the matters in dis- 
cussion, as soon as he heard jg; clock strike twelve, 
which was his dinner hour, UMijBj raying to his minis- 
ters as he rose, M Gentlemen, my maecaroni will be 
getting cold !" 

A few weeks before his death I had the honour of an 
audience with King Ferdinand at his magnificent palace 
of Caserta- The object of this was to present some 
papers containing important representations about the 
trade of Messina, and as he was known never to read 
what was put into4iis hands, I was instructed to inform 
him by word of mouth, as to thAputents of these papers. 
He received me very condesBtaingly, I might almost 
say kindly, ami )istened#)r a^^Ble or two with tolera- 
ble attention. Rut all at °|^^P 1V .name, which had 
been given in writing by the <|^Kbcrfciin who procured 
me the audience, flashed acrd*s5B Majesty's mind, and, 
cutting me short in my story about the free- port of 
Messina and the rights assured* to the foreign mei chants, 

he asked me if I was any relation to General ■ , 

who had bc<m with our army in Sicily during the French 
occupation" of <(h)lcs. On my replying that I had not 
the honour ^jg^' such relationship, his Majesty said : 
" Ah ! he wjfm 'excellent man ! Such a shot ! such i 
shot!" aud ha\JMkc,nce -got cm hi* darling subject, I 
fancied I saw tliJM^ was 'thinking more of it than o. 
what I was telfljruim*. He however heard me out, 
and, I believe, would- ha\e done what had been asked 
of him, had lie not died so .soon after. He was then 
just going off to shoo!, in 1 the woods near the Favorite 
When I entered the room I was nearly upset by acoupte 



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of huge Spanish pointers that ran between my legs ; and, 
during the conversation, these favourite companions 
further disturbed me by jumping up in front of me, and 
(one of them) by leaping on his Majesty's bed, which 
was visible in an inner room, and seemed to be nothing 
better than a common tent bed. The magnificent room 
in which I was received, boasted scarcely any furniture. 
The most conspicuous objects were a pair of mud boots, 
to be used in snipe shooting, that lay in elegant ease in 
one corner, two guns in another, a ppwder flask, a little 
hammer on a silk chair, and other articles of a like 
nature. His Majesty was dressed in a grey coat, grey 
waistcoat, and grey pantaloons, over which was pulled, 
as high as the knee, a pair of coarse brown worsted 
stockings, such as are generally worn by the summer 
Veapolitan sportsmen. During the audience his Ma- 
jesty stood on one side of the room, between two 
windows, resting one of his hands on a marble table. 
I observed that his hands were coarse, hard-looking, 
and horny, like those of a man accustomed to hard 
manual labour. And undoubtedly, as far as regarded 
hunting, shooting, and fishing, his Majesty had worked 
hard enough in his time. In spite of his advanced age, 
he was then robust, straight, and active. Almost before 
I got beyond the palace gate Jje rolled after me in a 
ugly tub of a carriage, on his way to the scene of the 
day's sport. The next time I saw bim, he was lying 
in state ! 

Ferdinand had borne the ups and downs of his 
royal career (and they had been enough to kill a prouder 
or more susceptible sovereign) with wonderful equa- 
nimity. He had never permitted them to interrupt his 
sleep, his appetite, his favourite sports, and his roaring 
laughs. I have often heard him, even when things 
were none of the smoothest with him— or rather with 
his kingdom — laugh as loud and as long as any lazzarone 
in Naples. He must almost have died with the thoughts 
of wild boars and wild ducks, dogs, guns, and " good 
shots" in his head. For, in January 1824, after he had 
been confined a few days with a cold, he felt himself 
better one evening, and made arrangements for a shoot- 
ing excursion the following day at the Lake di Patria. 
He went, to bed in excellent spirits, and early, as he was 
always accustomed to do ; but the next morning he did 
not summon his attendant early, as was also his 4*&nt. 
Everything was ready for 'the departure of the sports- 
men; Don D , Don G , and others of his 

favourites were waiting. At length the door of the 
royal chamber was opened, and his Majesty was found 
cold dead ! One of his hands was thrown a little over 
the side of his low camp bed, as though he had been 
endeavouring to rise ; .there were no signs of suffering 
on his countenance. Apoplexy had despatched him in 
the quickest and quietest way possible. He was ap- 
proaching his eightieth 

were mainly, if not entirely, 

^cation he had received, and to 
ed. His natural talents were 

been cultivated. Occasionally, 
himself from his habitual indo- 

he could think very justly and 



are not likely to expose their fronts — no, no ! General ! 
reverse them ; put them behind ! put them behind ! M 
and then he roared with laughter at his own witticism " 
and the notorious cowardice of his own troops. M. 



The faults of Ferdi 
attributable to the bi 
the country in which 
good, but they had ne 
when he could relieve 
lence and indifference, 

act with energy. He was a wit too in his way, and said 
many droll things. After his last return from Sicily, 
when Joachim Murat had been driven out of the king- 
dom of Naples by the Austrians, Geflp|l Nugent* the 
Minister of War, waited on Ferdinam^ne day, with 
some cuirasses as specimens of that arfljHy with which 
the General thought of furnishing one of the regiments 
of the new Neapolitan army he was then organizing. 
The King approved of the specimens, but asked the 
Genera., with a smile, what part of the soldiers' bodies 
they were meant to cover? The General replied, of 
course the breast. " Then are they of no use to my 
brave maccaroni eaters !" cried the King ; " ray soldiei* - > 



THE GLADNESS OF NATURE. 

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, 

When our mother Nature laughs around ; 
When even the deep blue heavens look glad, 

And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground ? 

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren, 
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky ; 

The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den, * . 

And the wilding bee hums merrily by. £, 

The clouds are at play in the azure space, 

And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, 

And here they stretch to the frolic chase, 
And there they roll on the easy gale. 

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, 

There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, 
There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, 

And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. 
And look at the broad-faced sun how he smiles 

On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, 
On the leaping waters and gay young isles, 

Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. 

V The above lines are from the Poems of William Cullen Bryant, 
an American, which we shall review in our next Supplement 



The largest Flower, and the largest Bird. — In 1818, Doc- 
tor Arnold discovered in the island of Sumatra a flower 
which he named the Rafflesia Arnoldi, and which an author 
has called with much justice " the magnificent Titan of the 
vegetable kingdom." The human mind indeed had never 
conceived suqh a flower : the circumference of the full ex- 
panded flower is nine /<?*/,— its nectarium calculated to 
hold nine pints, — the pistils are as large as cows' horns, and 
the entire weight of the blossom computed to be 15 lbs. 

Temple, in his recent Travels in Peru, states that he shot a 
condor, arid gives the following dimensions of its sue: 
" From point to point of the wings, when extended, ten feet; 
the longest feather, when pulled out being three feet in 
length.' ' Marco Polo, however, describes the condor as a much 
more extraordinary size. He says : " When the wings are 
spread, they measure forty feet in extent, from point to point ; 
the feathers are twenty feet in length, and the quflf part 
eight inches in circumference." 

Responsibilty of Drunkards. — It is a maxim in legal prac- 
tice, that those who presume to commit crimes when drunk 
must submit to punishment when sober. This state of the law 
is not peculiar to modern times. In ancient Greece, it was 
decreed bv Pittacus, that he who committed a crime when 
intoxicated should receive a double punishment, viz., one 
for the crime itself, and the other for the ebriety which 
prompted him to commit it The Athenians not only 
punished offences done in drunkenness with increased seve- 
rity, but, by an enactment of Solon, inebriation in a magis- 
trate was made capital. In our own country, at the present 
time, acts of violence committed under its influence, are 
held to be aggravated, rather than otherwise ; nor can the 
person bring it forward as an extenuation of any folly or 
misdemeanour which he may chance to commit. A bond 
signed in intoxication holds in law, and is perfectly binding 
unless it can be shown that the person who signed it was 
inebriated by the collusion or contrivance of those to whom 
the bond was given.— Anatomy of Drunkenness, 
• 

LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 

Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the fothweim§ 
Booksellers : — 

London, Gboombbidoe, Ptnyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Birmingham. Dbakx. 
Bristol, Wimn \ ~* 
Carlisle, Thurha! 
Derby, Wilkins I 
Falmouth, Philp. 
Hull, Stifhknsow. 
Leeds, Baiwx» and Nmom. 
Lincoln, Brookk and Son. 



iJLKM. 

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d and on the left. A traveller might proceed 

naking any other observation, as the common 

right over the bridge, and it is said that some 

1 ve actually passed over without being aware 

| it though this is certainly a possible occurrence 

^ i should be in a closed carriage, it can hardly 

*ned to a man on foot or on horseback, who is 
d to keep his eyes open when 'he is travelling. 
;ht and left he will perceive that the slope of 
r interrupted by a deep and sudden descent ; 

| ^ ing nearer to the right side of the road, he finds 

; ' i the edge of a tremendous precipice. At the 

• small stream is seen making its way amidst 

cks. Going to the opposite side of the road 
rig down there, he will observe the little 
i inuing its course in a deep channel down a 

I Hey. The traveller is now on the Natural 

t le is standing on a stupendous natural arch 

| ne ; and though he may form some conjecture 

uation by looking down from the edge of 
►ice, he can have no adequate conception 
j iewing it from below. The arch is best 

J the bed of the rivulet, aud from a point 

; it. On looking up you behold a noble arch 

\ id mass of stone hanging over your head, 

curved in its highest part, and almost like the 

lan. The same native rock forms, on each 

Lipports of this enormous arch, which is said 

P at 80 feet wide near the top; at the level 

;r the width is only about forty. The whole 
a the outer top of the arch to the water is 
i feet, as ascertained by measurement with a 

^ a stone at the end. This is greater than 

i of the London monument The vertical 

[ f the arch is probably about 30 feet. Like 

< r great works both of nature and art it is 
i ; sight that produces the deepest impression. 

) d visit we found that we had learned to form 

> i rate conceptions of this wonderful bridge, 

i ich a man might sit and gaze for hours with 

ing astonishment at the majestic arch which 
! tructed before man began his work, and which 

i to outlive the most durable of his monuments. 

nay have been the origin of this bridge, it 
\ f certain, from an inspection of it, that it has 

< oduced by any sudden and violent cause. 

im that runs beneath, called Cedar Creek, 

i nsiderable, adds to the general effect. When 

' ! the place, drops g^ water, filtered through 

i i ie, were falling in % <ftitick succession from the 

>y the time occupied in their descent, their 

velocity, and their full bright appearance, 

i ve a measure of the height from which they 

. , _ increase the beauty of the scene. There is 

another natural bridge in Virginia, m Scot county, 
which is said to be above 340 feet hign, but is inferior 
to that of Cedar Creek in form and completeness. 

The Prebischthor, in the Saxon Switzerland, has some- 
times been compared with this Virginia Bridge, but it is 
a very different kind of thing. 

The accompanying view, taken from the N.W. side, 
at the level of the water, has hardly any pretensions 
beyond showing the general sjiape of the arch and the 
view through it, which is very confined aud altogether 
devoid of interest. 



vailed. We allude to the Natural Bridge, or Rock- 
Bridge, as it is familiarly called by the people who live 
near it, which is situated a few miles on the west side of 
the Blue Ridge, on a small stream in the upper part of 
the great valley, and in the county of Rock-Bridge. 

From a small and uncomfortable tavern in the 
neighbourhood, kept by a Mr. Galbraith, (we wish 
this could meet his eye and make him mend his fere,) 
we pass for about two miles over uneven ground, and 
after ascending a small hill, we find a piece of rough 
rtony road with a few stunted firs and scrub oaks on the 



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may be sufficient to mention that in 1829 the importa- 
tion of this wood amounted to 19,335 tons. 

^The common mahogany (called by botanists SwieU- 
nia maliagoni) is one of the most majestic trees of the 
whole world. There are trees of greater height than 
the mahogany ; — but in Cuba and Honduras this tree, 
during a growth of two centuries, expands to such a 
gigantic trunk, throws out such massive arms, and 
spreads the shade of its shining green leaves over such 
a vast surface, that even the proudest oaks of our forests 
appear insignificant in comparison with it. A single 
log, such as is brousrht to this countrv from Honduras, 
not 



w nen we consider tne enormous size oi a utuik oi 
mahogany, and further learn that the most valuable 
timber grows in the most inaccessible situations, it 
must be evident that a great portion of the price of this 
timber must be made up of the cost of the labour re- 
quired for transporting it from its native forests to the 
place of its embarkation for England. The mode in 
which this difficult work is accomplished is highly in- 
teresting ; and we have, fortunately, the means of 
giving an account of the process (which, we believe, 
has never before been described in any English pub- 
lication,) from some statements printed in a Honduras 
Almanac, which has been kindly put into our hands for 
this purpose. 

The season for cutting the mahogany usually com- 
mences about the month of August. The gangs of 
labourers employed in this work consist of from twenty 
to fifty each, but few exceed the latter number. They 
are composed of slaves and free persons, without any 
comparative distinction of rank, and it very frequently 
occurs that the conductor of such work, here styled the 
Captain, is a slave. Each gang has also one person 
belonging to it termed the Huntsman. He is generally 
selected from the most intelligent of his fellows, and his 
chief occupation is to search the woods, or, as it is 
called, the bush, to find labour for the whole. Ac- 
cordingly, about the beginning of August, the hunts* 



man is despatched on his important mission. He cuts 
his way through the thickest of the woods to some els* 
vated situation, and climbs the tallest tree he finds, 
from which he minutely surveys the surrounding country. 
At this season the leaves of the mahogany tree are inva- 
riably of a yellow reddish hue, an 
this kind of exercise, can, at a 
the places where the wood is mo 
descends, and to such places h 
and, without compass, or other g 
vation has imprinted on his recc 
to reach the exact point at whic 

y stratager 

untsman, t 

the advant 

:ed by thoa 

vhich is a v 

exerted to 

lowever, he 

r those whe 

use, and wl 

:>f a leaf, or 

ly perceivec 

one party 

; of a suffic 

ring the s€ 

about ten < 

ig erected 
The trun 

>d it furnist 

namental p 

y preferred. 

;r of trees 

eason, the} 

ley are to 

d at two-thirds of the labour and 
cutting. Each mahogany work 

1 village on the bank of a river, — 

m being always regulated by the 

rer to the mahogany intended as 

aerations. 

the establishment of a sufficient 

le accommodation of the workmen, 

d from the settlement, in a direc- 

ible to the centre of the body of 

rhich branch-roads are afterwards 

d through which the roads are to 

of dense forest, both of high trees 
ana unaerwooa. i iie labourers commence by clearing 
away the underwood with cutlasses. This labour is 
usually performed by task-work, of one hundred yards, 
each man, per day. The underwood being removed, 
the larger trees are then cut down by the axe, as even 
with the ground as possible, the task being also at 
this work one hundred yards per day to each labourer. 
The hard woods growing here, on failure of the axe, are 
removed by the application of .fire. The trunks of these 
trees, although many of them are valuable, such as bul- 
let-tree, iron wood, redwood, and s a pod ilia, are thrown 
away as useless, unless they happen to be adjacent to some 
creek or small river, which may intersect the road. In 
that case they are applied to the construction of bridges, 
which, are frequently of considerable size, and require 
great labour to make them of sufficient strength to bear 
such immense loads as are brought over them. 

If the mahogany trees are much dispersed or scat- 
tered, the labour and extent of road-cutting is, of course, 
greatly increased. It not unfirequently occurs that miles 
of road and many bridges are made to a single tree, 
that may ultimately yield but one log. When roads are 
cleared of brush-wood, they still require the labour o* 
hoes, pick-axes, and sledge hammers to level down the 
hillocks, to break the rocks, and to cut such of the re- 
maining stumps as might impede the wheels that *re 
hereafter to pass over them. 



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T!ie roads being now in a state of readiness, which 
may generally be effected by the month of December, 
the cross cutting, as it is technically called, commences. 
This is merely dividing crosswise, by means of saws, 
ench mahogany tree into logs, according to their length ; 
ami it often occurs, that while some are but long enough 
for one log, others, on the contrary, will admit of four or 
five being cut from the same trunk or stem. The chief 
guide for dividing the trees into logs is the necessity for 
equalizing the loads the cattle have to draw. Conse- 
quently, as the tree increases in thickness, the logs are 
reduced in length. This, however, does not altogether 
obviate the irregularity of the loads, and a supply of 
oxen are constantly kept in readiness to add to the usual 
number, according to the weight of the log. This be- 
comes unavoidable, from the very great difference of 
size of the mahogany trees, the logs taken from one 
trie being about 300 cubic feet, while those from the 
next may be as many thousand. The largest log ever 
cut in Honduras was of the following dimensions: — 
length, 17 feet; breadth, 57 inches; depth, 64 inches; 
measuring 5,168 superficial feet, or 15 tons weight. 
• 'i he sawing being now completed, the logs are re- 
duced, by means of the axe, from the round or natural I 
form, into the square. The month of March is now ! 
reached, when all the preparation before described is, or ' 
ought to be, completed ; when the dry season, or time 
of drawing down the logs from the place of their growth, 
commences. This process can only be carried on in the 
months of April and May ; the ground, during' all the 
re.-t of the year, being too soft to admit of a heavily 
laden truck to pass over it without sinking. It is now 
necessary that not a moment should be lost in drawing 
out the wood to the river. 

A gang of forty men is generally capable of working 
six trucks. Each truck requires seven pair of oxen and 
two drivers; sixteen to cut food for the cattle, and 
twelve to load or put the logs on the carriages. From 
the intense heat of the sun, the cattle, especially, would 
be unable to work during its influence ; and, conse- 
quently, the loading and carriage of the timber is per- 
formed in the night The logs are placed upon the 



trucks by means of a temporary platform laid<from the 
edge of the truck to a sufficient distance upon the ground, 
so as to make an inclined plane, upon which the log k 
gradually pushed up by bodily labour, without any 
further mechanical aid. 

The operations of loading and carrying are thus 
principally performed during the hours of darkness. 
The torches employed are pieces of wood split from the 
trunk of the pitch-pine. The river-side is generally 
reached by the wearied drivers and cattle before the sun 
is at its highest power ; and the logs, marked with the 
owner's initials, are thrown into the river. 

About the end of May the periodical rains again 
commence ; the torrents of water discharged from the 
clouds are so great as to render the roads impassable 
in the course of a few hours, when all trucking ceases. 
About the middle of June the rivers are swollen to an 
immense height. The logs then float down a distance 
of two hundred miles, being followed by the gang in 
pitpans (a kind of flat-bottomed canoe), to disengage 
them from the branches of the overhanging trees, until 
they are stopped by a boom placed in some situation 
convenient to the mouth of the river. Each gang then 
separates its own cutting, by the marks on the ends of 
the logs, and forms them into large rafts; in which state 
they arc brought down to the wharves of the pro- 
prietors, where they are taken out of the water, ami 
undergo a second process of the axe, to make the sur- 
face smooth. The ends, which frequently get split and 
rent by being dashed against rocks iu the river by the 
force of the current, are also sawed off. They are flow 
ready for shipping. 

The ships clearing out from Belize, the principn 
port of Honduras, with their valuable freight of ma- 
hogany, either come direct to England, or take their 
cargo to some free warehousing port of the Hritish 
possessions in the West Indies or America. 

We must describe the beautiful process of cutting 
mahogany logs into veneers, before we have reached 
the point when the skill of the cabinet-maker is em- 
ployed to produce a mahogany table. This shall be 
done in an early number. 



[•trucking Mahogany.] 



WHAT IS EDUCATION? 

' seem a very simple question, and very easily 
but many who think so, would really be very 
much at a lots to answer it correctly. Every man, in a 
free country, wants three sorts of education : — one, to 
At him for his own particular trade or calling, — this is 
professional education ; — another, to teach him his duties 



as a man and a citizen, — this is moral and political 
education ; — and a third, to fit him for his higher rela- 
tions, as God's creature, designed for immortality, — 
this is religious education. Now, in point of fact, that 
is most useful to a man which tends most to hie happi- 
ness ; a thing so plain, that it seems foolish to state it 
Yet people constantly take the word " useful" in another 



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tense, and mean by it, not what tends most to a man's 
happiness, but what tends most to get money for him ; 
and therefore they call professional education a very 
useful thing: but the time which is spent in general 
education, whether moral or religious, they are apt to 
grudge as thrown away^ especially if it interferes with 
the other education, to which they confine the name of 
" useful ;" that is, the education which enables a man 
to gain his livelihood. Yet we might all be excel- 
lent in our several trades and professions, and still 
be very ignorant, very miserable, and very wicked. 
We might do pretty well just while we were at work 
on our business ; but no man is at work always. 
There is a time which we spend with our families; 
a time which we spend with our friends and neigh- 
bours; and a very important time which we spend 
with ourselves. If we know not how to pass these 
times well, we are very contemptible and worthless men, 
though we may be very excellent lawyers, surgeons, 
chemists, engineers, mechanics, labourers, or whatever 
else may be our particular employment. Now, what 
enables us to pass these times well, and our times of 
business also, is not our professional education, but our 
general one. It is the education which all need equally 
— namely, that which teaches a man, in the first place, 
his duty to God and his neighbour ; which trains him 
to good principles and good temper; to think of others, 
and not only of himself. It is that education which 
teaches him, in the next place, his duties as a citizen — to 
obey the laws always, but to try to get them made as 
perfect as possible ; to understand that a good and just 
government cannot consult the interests of one particular 
class of calling, in preference to another, but must see 
what is for. the good of the whole; that every iuterest, 
and every order of men, must give and take ; and that if 
each were to insist upon having everything its own way, 
there would be nothing but the wildest confusion, or the 
merest tyranny. And because a great part of all that 
goes wrong in public or private life arises from igno- 
rance and bad reasoning, all that teaches us, in the third 
place, to reason justly, and puts us on our guard against 
the common tricks of unfair writers and talkers, or the 
confusions of such as are puzzle-headed, is a most va- 
luable part of a man's education, and one of which he 
will find the benefit whenever he has occasion to open 
his mouth to speak, or his ears to hear. And, finally, 
all that makes a man's mind more active, and the ideas 
which enter it nobler and more beautiful, is a great 
addition to his happiness whenever he is alone, and to 
the pleasure which others derive from his company 
arhen he is in society. Therefore it is most useful to 
learn to love and understand what is beautiful, whether 
in the works of God, or in those of man ; whether in the 
flowers and fields, and rocks and woods, and rivers, and 
sea and sky ; or in fine buildings, or f\ne pictures, or 
fine music; and in the noble thoughts and glorious 
images of poetry. This is the education which will 
make a man and a people good, and wise, and happy. 
Give this, — and the ends of professional education can 
never be altogether lost ; for good sense and good prin- 
ciple will ensure a man's knowing his particular busi- 
ness; but Knowledge of his business, on the other hand, 
will not ensure them ; and not only are sense and good- 
ness the rarest and most profitable qualities with which 
any man can enter upon life now, but they are articles 
of which there never can be a glut: no competition or 
over-production will lessen their value ; but the more of 
them that we can succeed in manufacturing, so much 
the higher will be their price, because there will be more 
to understand and to love them. 



THE WEEK. 



Hmmttu it the beti /Vicy. — Irritated one day at the bad faith of 
Madame Jay, Mirabeau said to her in my presence, " Madam Jay, if 
probity did not exist, we ought to invent it, as the best means of 
getting rich" — Dumont. 



[The Rev. John Wesley.] 
June 17. — The birth-day of John Wesley, thecelebratcd 
founder of the more numerous division of the English 
Methodists. He was the second son of the Rev. Samuel 
Wesley, Rector of Epworth, in Lincolnshire, where he 
was born in the year 1703. Although his father was a 
man of considerable literary attainments, being; known 
to the public as the author of various works in verse, it 
was to his mother, a woman of a much more zealous 
and active character than her husband,"" that Wesley was 
chiefly indebted for his early education, and probably 
also for the seeds of many of his distinguished mentu! 
habits. 

After receiving a very systematic elementary tuition 
from his mother, John Wesley was sent to the Charter 
house, from whence he removed at the usual time to 
Christ-church College, Oxford. Here he distinguished 
himself greatly by his diligence and success as a student, 
showing from the first, in the distribution of his time, 
the same punctual and persevering regard to method 
by means of which he mainly achieved all the greater 
objects of his life. The reading of some religious works, 
and especially of * Laws Serious Call,' awakened in 
him a strong spirit of religious fervour ; and he formed 
that association with a number of his college acquain- 
tances of similar views and feelings, to which, from 
the punctilious regularity of the members in their de 
votions and general demeanour, the epithet o£ 4t metho- 
dists" was given as a name of reproach by the wags 
of the university. As has happened in other cases, 
the objects of the intended satire were much too earnest 
in the views they had adopted to feel or to regard any 
point of ridicule which it might be supposed to possess, 
and frankly adopted the nick-name thus bestowed upon 
them by their opponents, as their proper designation. 
Among their number, besides Wesley, was the afterwards 
equally celebrated George Whitfield. 

We cannot here attempt to pursue minutely the re- 
mainder of the course of Wesley's busy life, or to trace 
the rise of that extensive fabric of ecclesiastical policv 
of which he was the founder. Suffice it to say, that 
having commenced his public labours as a i eligious 
teacher in the newly-formed colony of Georgia, in 
America, in the year 1735, he pursued from this time 
a course of almost constant journeying, preaching, and 



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writing, till within a week of his death, on the 9d of 
March, 1791, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. 
During the greater part of this long period he rarely 
preached less than twice, and often four or five times 
a day ; while, besides presiding with the most minute 
superintendence over all the public affairs of the large 
and rapidly growing community which acknowledged 
him as its head, and transacting a great deal of private 
business, hi found time to send to the press a succession 
of works, which, in the collected edition, amount to 
between thirty and forty volumes. Mr. Southey, who 
has made the life of tins extraordinary man one of the 
most interesting books in the language, has given us 
the following account of the manner in which he con- 
trived to get through all this occupation. " Leisure and 
■I/' said Wesley, " have taken leave of one another. I 
propose to be busy as long as 1 live, if my health is so 
long indulged to me." This resolution was made in 
the prime of life, and never was resolution more punc- 
tually observed. " Lord, let me not live to be useless !" 
was the prayer which he uttered after seeing one whom 
he had long known as an active and useful magistrate, 
reduced by »«*<» tn he «« a nirtnre nf human nature in dis- 
grace, feeb slow of speech and 
understandi d with a constitution 
vigorous b< nen, and with au ac- 
tivity of sp er than his singular 
felicity of h en thousand cares of 
various kinds, he said, were no more weight or burthen 
to his mind than ten thousand hairs were to his head. * * 
His manner of life was the most favourable that could 
have been devised for longevity. He rose early, and lay 
down at night with nothing to keep him waking, or 
trouble him in sleep. His mind was always in a plea- 
surable and wholesome state of activity ; he was tem- 
perate in his diet, and lived in perpetual locomotion. 
And frequent change of air is, perhaps, of all things, 
that which most conduces to joyous health and long life. 
The time which Mr. Wesley spent in travelling was not 
lost. " History, poetry, and philosophy," said he, " I 
commonly read on horseback, having other employment 
at other times." He used to throw the reins on his 
horse's neck, and in this way. he rode, in the course of 
his life, above a hundred thousand miles, without any 
accident of sufficient magnitude to make him sensible of 
the danger which he incurred. 

June 21. — The Longest Day. — On this day there is an 
interval of sixteen hours and thirty-four minutes between 
the rising and the setting of the sun, which interval 
is longer than on any other day in the year. Up to 
this point, from the 21st December (the shortest day), 
the days have steadily increased in length ; from this 
point they will steadily decrease. We may more pro- 
perly, at some future time, explain in a series of papers 
some of the more remarkable phenomena of the changes 
of seasons. At present we shall call our reader's 
attention to the 4 moral reflections which the recur- 
rence of " The Longest Day " suggests, by re-printing 
a few stanzas of a poem by Mr. Wordsworth on this 
subject:— 

' Summer ebbs ;— eacb day that followt 
Is a reflux from on high, 
Tending to the darksome hollows 
Where the frosts of winter lie. 

He who governs the creation, 
In his providence assigned 
Such a gradual declination 
To the life of human kind. 

Yet we mark it not ; — fruits redden, 
Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown, 
And the heart is bth toteaden 
Hopes that she so long hath known. 

Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden ! 
And when thy decline shall come, 
Let not flowers, or toughs fruit-laden, 
Hide the knowledge of thy do5nx 



Now, even now, tee wiapp'd in shunber* 

Fix thine eyes upon the sea 

That absorbs time, space, and number | 

Look towards eternity 1 

Follow thou the flowing river, 
On whose breast are thither borne 
All deceived, and each deceiver, 
Through the gates of night and morn; 

Through the year's successive portals ; 
Through the bounds which many a star 
Marks, not mindless of frail mortals, 
When his light returns from far. 

Thus when Thou with Time hast traveU'd 
Tow'rds the mighty gulf of things, 
And the mazy stream unravell'd 
With thy best imaginings ; 

Think, if thou on beauty leanest, 
Think how pitiful that stay, 
Did not virtue give the meanest 
Charms superior to decay. 

Duty, like a strict preceptor, 
Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown ; 
Choose her thistle for thy sceptre, 
While thy brow youth's "roses crown. 

GENIUS AND INDUSTRY/ 
Whilst we believe that education is the greatest gift 
that can be conferred on a human creature, we are 
not sanguine enough to expect that its more general 
diffusion will increase the number of men of genius. 
There is a perversity in human nature which makes us 
relax our efforts at the moment when they might be 
rewarded with the most splendid success. It does not 
follow that a shepherd-boy, who passes his long day oh 
the side of a hill, and who acquires the principles of 
mechanics, or forms for himself a plan of the stars, 
shall make proportionate advancement if full opportunity 
of study be afforded to him. 

Nor does it follow that a young man who teaches him- 
self to read by the light of a shop window in the street, 
shall become a learned man when admitted to libraries 
and encouraged by applause. 

We do not think the illustration a correct one, which 
represents the scholar as like the weary traveller who 
plods on contentedly through woods and over irregular 
ground which conceal the prospect, and who faints when 
he has ascended to the top of the hill and sees the whole 
extent of the road before him. 

The truth seems rather (o be, that energy of mind, 
like strength of body, must be acquired by exercise, and 
that the consciousness of desert in encountering diffi- 
culties, must be felt to enable us to accomplish any 
great work. Sir Joshua Reynolds has happily ex- 
pressed this ; — 

" It is not uncommon to see young artists, whilst 
they are struggling with every obstacle in their way, 
exert themselves with such success as to outstrip com- 
petitors possessed of every means of improvement. The 
promising expectation which was formed on so much 
being done with so little means, has recommended them 
to a patron, who has supplied them with every conve- 
nience of study; from that time their industry and 
eagerness of pursuit have forsaken them ; they stand 
still and see others rush on before them. 

*' Such men are like certain animals, who will feed only 
where there is little provender, and that got at with dit> 
ficulty through the bars of a rack, but refuse to totieh 
it where there is an abundance before them *." 

From this it appears to be essential . to success that 
a young man should study to acquire confidence in his 
own powers. This is a condition of mind entirely dif- 
ferent from conceit ; it exhibits itself in no vain boasting, 
but essentially consists in a secret resolution to make 
great efforts by persevering industry, to gain the object 
of his ambition. 

We believe that young men would entertain these 
• Sir J. Reynolds' Works, vol. ii. p. 80, 



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notions oftener, if they were not deterred by an erro- 
neous fancy of what belongs to genius. They think that 
such exertions as we recommend belong only to a plod- 
ding fellow, whilst the man of genius does every thing 
by a sudden act which costs him nothing. 

This is an unhappy mistake. All our eminent men 
have been distinguished by fixing upon some great 
object, and possessing themselves with such a lively con- 
ception of it that it has led them on through years of 
toil. 



HOW TO UNDERSTAND GEOGRAPHY. 
Evkry one says that geography is one of the most 
useful things that can be learnt; yet nothing is learnt 
so ill, because nothing is taught so ill. Look into any 
of the elementary books of geography, and read what is 
said about England. First, we are told that it is divided 
into fu ty counties ; then, perhaps, follows an account 
of the several law circuits ; and then, after some short 
notices about religion, government, produce, and manu- 
factures, there are given lists of the chief towns, moun- 
tains, rivers, and lakes. But all these things are given 
without any connexion with each other, and it is a mere 
matter of memory to recollect what is no more than a 
string of names. And if a man does recollect them, 
still he is not much the wiser for them ; he has got no 
clear and instructive notions about the country, but has 
merely learnt his map, and knows where to find certain 
names and lines upon it. 

If we wish to know geography really, we must set 
about it in a very different manner. Take one of the 
skeleton maps published by the Useful Knowledge 
Society ; there is not a single name upon them, nothing 
is given but the hills and the rivers. These are the true 
alphabet of geography. The hills are the bones of a 
country, and determine its form, just as the bones of an 
animal do. For according to the direction of the hills 
must be the course of the rivers : if the hills come very 
near the sea, it makes the rivers very short and their 
course veTy rapid ; if they are a long way from the sea, 
it makes the rivers long and gentle. But rivers of this 
latter sort are generally navigable, and become so lafge 
near the sea as to be capable of receiving ships of large 
size. Here then towns will be built, and these towns 
will become rich and populous, and so will acquire poli- 
tical importance. Again, on the nature of the hills 
depend the mineral riches of a country ; if they are com- 
posed of granite or slate, they may contain gold, silver, 
tin, and copper; if they are composed of the lime- 
stone of Derbyshire or Durham, they are very likely 
to have . lead mines ; if of the sand or gritstone of 
Northumberland, Lancashire, and Yorkshire, it is pro- 
bable that there will be coal at no great distance. On 
the contrary, if they are made up of the yellow lime- 
stone of Gloucestershire, Oxfordshire, and Northamp- 
tonshbe, or of chalk like the hills in Wiltshire, Berkshire, 
and Hampshire, or of clay like those about London, it 
is quite certain that they will contain neither coal, nor 
lead, nor any valuable mineral whatsoever. But on the 
mineral wealth of a country, and particularly on its hav- 
ing coal or not having it, depends the nature of the em- 
ployment of its inhabitants. Manufactories are sure to 
follow coal mines; whereas, in all those districts of Eng- 
land where there is no coal, that is, in all the counties 
to the south-east of a line drawn from the Wash in Lin- 
colnshire to Plymouth, there are, generally speaking, no 
manufactories; but the great bulk of the people are em- 
ployed in agriculture. 

Thus then on the direction and composition of the 
hills of a country depend, first of all, the size and cha- 
racter of its rivers. On the character of its rivers 
depend the situation and importance of its towns, and 
its greater or less facilities for internal communication 
aad foreign trade. And again, on the composition of 



the hills depend the employment of the people, their 
numbers on a given space, and in a great degree their 
state of morals, intelligence, and political independence. 
And here we have a reason for things, and see them 
connected with one another in a manner at once easier 
to remember, and much more satisfactory to understand 
when we do remember it. Some instances of this, given 
in detail, may appear in one of our future numbers. 



The Flower Garden (June). — It will now be time for you to 
take up those bulbs, of which the leaves are nearly decayed. 
I can fix no particular day for this operation ; because, as the 
bulbs flower at different seasons, so the leaves will decay in 
like manner ; but the general rule is, to take them up care- 
fully as soon as the leaves have turned yellow, and to lay 
them under a south wall to dry and ripen; taking care to. 
cover them with fine, dry, sandy earth, in layers, so that 
they may not touch each other. When the leaves are quite 
decayed, the bulbs must be removed, and spread agam to 
dry under shelter of a green-house, or in a room ; and, 
finally, after cleaning them from the dirt, take off their old 
coats, or skins, and put them aWay in bags, or drawers, in 
a cool dry place, till they are wanted for replanting in the 
autumn. I must here explain why bulbs are taken up 
every year : the great object is in this, as in all other opera- 
tions of gardening, to imitate Nature ; to make the exist- 
ence of foreign plants as near as it can be to what they 
enjoy in their native place. Tulips, hyacinths, and most of 
those bulbs which are taken up, come from countries where 
the whole summer is dry, and in winter the ground is 
covered with snow; the spring rains alone call them into 
life and flower. Travellers describe whole regions in Persia 
as being covered in the spring with enamelled carpets of 
scilla (hyacinths), tulips, and other bulbous plants: long 
drought succeeds the rains of spring, the leaves die away, 
and the plant rests again under the dry earth till the follow- 
ing spring. As in our country they can have no dry earth 
naturally to rest in during the' summer, the best imitation 
of it is to take up the bulb, which would otherwise be rotted 
by the summer rains, or caused to grow in the autumn; in 
which latter case, the plant would not flower in the spring, 
as the flower-stalks would be killed by the wet and cold of 
winter, before it came to the surface. 

\* From t The Garden,' a very agreeable and instructive book fox 
children, forming one of the volumes of a aerie*- called ' The Little 
Library.' 

" A little Learning is a dangerous Thing'* — Then make 
it greater. No learning at all is surely the most dangerous 
thing in the world ; and it is fortunate that, in this country 
at least, it is a danger which cannot possibly exist. After 
all, learning is acquired knowledge, and nothing else. A 
man who can read nis Bible has a little learning ; a man who 
can only plough or dig, has less ; a man who can only break 
stones on the road, less still, but he has some. The savages 
in one of the islands in the South Sea, stood with, great 
reverence round a sailor who had lighted a fire to boil some 
water in a saucepan, but as soon as the water began to 
boil, they ran away in an agony of terror. Compared with 
the savages, there is no boy in Europe, of the age of ten 
years, who may not be called learned. He has acquired a 
certain quantity of practical knowledge in physic*; and, as 
this knowledge is more than instinct, it is learning ; learn- 
ing which differs in degree only from that which enables a 
chemist to separate the simple metals from soda or potash. 

The geographer Malta Brun remarks, that in many cities 
of the United States, that which is called a mob scarcely 
exists. Now it will be found that in these cities education 
has been unstintedly bestowed upon all classes, down to the 
very lowest 

LONDON:— CHARLBS KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Shopkeeper* and Hawkers mag be supplied JTholesale by the. foOowing 

Liverpool, WtLUuxm. and 8mtth. 
Manchester, Robinson; and Wibi a*d 

SlMMf. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, CNAMfur. 
Norwich, Jarrold and Son. 
Nottingham, Wrxoht. 
Sheffield, Ridok. 
Dublin, Wax em an. 
Edinburgh, Oxrvaa and Boras 
Glasgow, Atkinson and Co. 



London, Groombridox, Panrer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Bath, Simms. 
Birmingham, Dlrakk. 
Bristol, Warmer and Co. 
Carlisle. Tkubnam. • 

Derby, Wtlkiws and Sow. 
Falmouth, Pbilp. 
Hull, Stxphxnson. 
Leeds, Baxnxs and Nxwsomx. 
Lincoln, Bbookx and Son. 



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wise and earliest monuments of the arts which time has 
respected ;— this sanctuary, abandoned, isolated through 
barbarism, and surrendered to the desert from which it 
was won ; this city, shrouded in the veil of mystery by 
which even colossi are magnified ; this remote city, which 
imagination has only caught a glimpse of through the 
darkness of time — was still so gigantic an apparition, 
that, at the sight of its scattered ruins, the army halted 
of its own accord, and the soldiers, with one spontaneous 
movement, clapped their hands." 

Thebes lay on each side of the Nile, and extendi 
also on both sides as far as the mountains. The tombs 
which are on the western side reach even into the limits 
of the desert. Four principal villages stand on the site 
of this ancient city, — Luxor and Carnak on the eastern, 
Gournou and Medinet-Abou on the western akfe. 
The temple of Luxor is very near the river, and there is 
here a good ancient jettee, well built of bricks. The en- 
trance to this temple is through a magnificent gateway, 
facing the north, 200 feet in front, and 57 feet high 
above the present level of the soil. Before the gateway 
stand the two most perfect obelisks that exist, formed, 
as usual, of the red granite of Syene, and each about 80 
feet high, and from 8 to 10 feet wide at the base. Be 
tween these obelisks and the gateway are two colossal 
statues, also of red granite ; from the difference of the 
dresses it is judged that one was a male, the other a fe- 
male, figure :— they are nearly of equal si^es. Though 
buried in the ground to the chest, they still measure 21 
and 22 feet from thence to the top of the mitre. 

It is this gateway that is filled with those remarkable 
sculptures, which represent the triumph of some ancient 
monarch of Egypt over an Asiatic enemy, and which 
we find repeated, both on other monuments of Thebes, 
and partly also on some of the monuments of Nubia, 
as, for example, at Ipsambul. This event appears 
to have formed an epoch in Egyptian history, and to 
have furnished materials both for the historian and the 
sculptor, like the war of Troy to the Grecian poet The 
whole length of this temple is about 800 feet. 

The remains of Carnak, about one mile and a quarter 
lower down the river, are still more wonderful than 
1 of Sphinxes, considerably 

t bout 6560 feet) connected 

t temple of Luxor with it ; 

fc \ proud approaches to per- 

\ f buildings that ever was 

e a the structure and ap- 

[ ir that the various parts of 

ii ods. Some parts, both of 

t milding at Carnak (some 

t len constructed out of the 

d is we see from blocks of 

ftune uemg occasiuMiiy piaced with inverted hierogly- 
phics. It is impossible, without good drawings and 
rery long descriptions, to give anything like an adequate 
dea of the enormous remains of Carnak, among which 
we find a hall whose roof of flat stones is sustained by 
nore than 130 pillars, some 26 feet, and others as much 
is 34 feet, in circumference. 

The remains on the western side of the river are, per- 
laps, more interesting than those on the east. 

That nearly all the monuments of Thebes belong to 
i period anterior to the Persian conquest, b. c. 525, and 
hat among them we must look for the oldest and 
nost genuine specimens of Egyptian art, is clear, both 
rom (he character of the monuments themselves and 
Vol. I. n Q 

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from historical records ; nor is this conviction weakened 
by finding the name of Alexander twice on part of the 
buildings at Carnak, which will prove no more than 
that a chamber might have been added to the temple 
and inscribed with his name ; or that it was not unusual 
for the priests to flatter conquerors or conquerors' depu- 
ties by carviug on stone the name of their new master. 
[ From 'the British Museum— Egyptian Antiquities/* 



WONDERFUL STORIES. 

It is curious to trace in all ages the passion that has 
existed foi marvellous stories, which, however, we al- 
ways find to have been strongest where knowledge was 
least diffused. At the present day we may venture to 
assert, that any stories which are directly contradictory 
to daily experience and sound reason, will hardly "be 
received except with a smile by a numerous class, who 
once gave a ready ear to the wildest absurdities. 

The history of our own country will supply the me- 
mory of our readers with many examples of very ge- 
neral belief at certain periods, in witchcraft, charms, 
potions, and supernatural appearances. Unfortunately 
the spirit of gross superstition is closely allied to that of 
fear, and fear, the most cruel of the passions, has often 
hurried persons otherwise humane to join in the severest 
persecution of supposed witches and conjurors, who 
were generally either ignorant old women, deserving pity, 
or cunning knaves whom a sensible man would avoid. 

Lucian *, a witty Greek writer of the second century of 
our era, has given us in one of his amusing dialogues 
some specimens of the kind of stories that were in vogue 
in his day, from which it will appear that lying and 
credulity are in all ages pretty much alike. 

" There is a statue in my house," says one of the 
lovers of marvellous tales, " which steps down from his 
pedestal as soon as it is dark, and walks all about the 
house. It is an ordinary occurrence for the family to 
meet him. Sometimes he goes about singing, and 
never hurts any one, provided you get out of his way. 
Frequently he takes a bath, and amuses himself all night 
long, when you may hear the dashing of the water. 1 
will tell you how the statue treated a rascal who stole 
the halfpence that we give him every new moon. There 
was a considerable quantity of these pence lying at his 
feet, with some silver coins that were fastened to his 
legs by wax, besides thin silver leaf which had been given 
him for his services in curing several people of fever. 
Now we had an African servant, a groom, who was a 
most abominable thief. He formed a plan to carry off 
all the money, which -he accomplished one night by 
watching his opportunity when the statue had gone to 
take his walk. When the statue returned he found he 
had been robbed ; and straightway he inflicted a most 
summary vengeance on the thief, for he kept him all 
night long in the hall pacing round and round and 
would not let him get out. Accordingly there the rogue 
was found in the morning with the money on him, and 
a sound thrashing he got for his pains. But this was 
not all. He died shortly after in a most miserable way, 
being beaten and bruised every night, as he told us; 
and indeed the. marks on his body every morning were 
plain enough for any otic to see." 

• 4 When I was a young man/* says another, "and 
was in Egypt where my father had sent me for my edu- 
cation, I felt a desire to visit Coptos, and thence to take 
a trip to hear the wonderful vocal Mcmnon at sun-rise. 
And indeed I did hear him, but not in the ordinary 
way, uttering some unmeaning sounds, for^me Memnon 
actually opened his mouth and addressed me in seven 
verses ; which I would repeat to you, if it were necessary. 

" On the voyage we happened to have among the 
passengers a man of Memphis, one of the priest class, a 
♦ Philopeeudtt. 



wonderful wise man, and one who was well versed in 
all the learning of Egypt He was said to have spent 
twenty-three years under ground in a certain secret 
chamber, where he was instructed by Isis in the magic 
art At "first I did not know who he was, but I soon 
observed, whenever the boat stopped, that he did a 
number of surprising tricks. He would ride on the 
back of a crocodile and swim about among these 
monsters, whilf they would show great awe of him and 
wag their tai»s with pleasure. Then I saw he must be 
a sacred man, and by degrees I became so familiar *ith 
him that he told me all his secrets, and at last persuaded 
me to leave my servants at Memphis and to accompany 
him alone, for we should never want servants, he said. 
The following was our mode of life: Whenever we 
came to a lodging place, the man would take the door- 
bar, or a broom, or a pestle, and, after putting some 
clothes ou it and uttering certain words, the stick would 
walk about and look just like a man. It would go 
and fetch water, bring provisions, cook them, and in 
every respect act like a good servant. When its work 
was finished, my companion would turn it back into its 
former shape by uttering some fresh words. I felt a 
great desire to know the secret, but I could not get it 
out of him, though he made no scrapie about telling" 
me anything else. But at last one day, having hid my- 
self in a dark corner, I overheard the charm, which was 
a word of three syllables; immediately after my com- 
panion went out, after giving the pestle his orders for 
the day. 

" On the next day, when the wise man had gone 
out on some business, I took the pestle, dressed it up, 
and uttering the magic syllables bade him go for 
water. Straightway he brought the pitcher full of water, 
when I said, * Stop ! — no more water : be a pestle 
again ! ' But the pestle, instead of obeying, went on 
fetching water till he had filled the. house. Being at 
my wit's end for fear the man should return, I took an 
axe and chopped the pestle in two, when, lo I each part 
snatched up a pitcher and went on fetching water as 
hard as he could. In the mean time the wise man re- 
turned, and seeing what had happened he turned the 
water-carriers into sticks again. But after this he dis- 
appeared, and I never could learn what became of him." 



NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION. 
We believe that there are very few educated people who 
will dispute the immense benefit which the invention 
of new and improved machinery has, in the long run, 
conferred upon all ranks and classes of mankind. 
There is a general opinion, which many people too 
often take for granted, that inventions of machinery are 
necessarily attended with at least a temporary injury to 
the operative mechanic. That this is not always the 
case — that we are not obliged at all times to look far into 
the future for the advantages of improved machinery — 
is shown by the following striking instance of prompt 
as well as permanent benefit derived by a manufacturing 
population from a sudden and unexpected invention. 

The Reverend John Thomas Becher, in his evidence 
before a Committee of the House of Lords, during the 
course of last session, gives the following narrative : — 

" In the county of Nottingham! in 1812, there was a 
suspension of the manufacturing profits, and a difference 
of opinion between the masters and the workmen. At 
one time these disagreements proceeded to such a height, 
and to such tumultuous conduct on the part of the 
workmen, that vast numbers of them were thrown out 
of employ, and whole districts became extensively pau- 
perized by a mass of artificers thrown upon the poor- 
rates. Several parishes declared that the expenditure 
for the poor was equal to their income ; and an appli- 
cation was made to the county magistrates for a rate 
upon other hundreds in aid of the parishes so oppressed 



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frith poor. The magistrates were almost inclined to 
enter upon the question ; but some of the parties having 
consulted counsel for the purpose of resisting this ap- 
plication, it appeared that the beds must be sold from 
under the poor before such a 'rate in aid* could be 
legally granted. This necessarily threw the poor them- 
selves, as well as the proprietors of estates, upon the 
tonsideration of other resources. A sum was raised, 
by voluntary subscription, amounting to about 6,000/., 
and a committee was appointed from different parts, of 
whom I happened to be one, to meet from time to time, 
in the centre of the distressed districts, so as to relieve 
these artificers. It was then determined to employ this 
subscription solely in manual labour, and the framework- 
knitters were employed at small wages, — I think about 
tenpence a-day, a very meagre pittance for men who had 
been earning from 1/. to 21. a-week. The consequence 
was, that this threw the artificers upon devising the means 
of self-support ; and what was the consequence? They 
invented, among other means, the lace-machinery ; and 
I saw that population, which had been a little while 
before declared to be superabundant, rise up into such 
progressive improvement, that the supply of human 
labour was quite unable to meet the demand. Even 
the upper servants in gentlemen's families were tempted 
in several instances to withdraw not only their persons, 
but the capital which they had accumulated, for the 
pnrpo.se of dedicating both their persons and their pro- 
perty to the advancement of these manufactures. In a 
word, lace-making proceeded at such an incredible 
rate, that single families of artificers were earning at 
the rate of ten guineas a-week. This they effected by 
the father and son working their machines both day and 
night : they took it in turns, and consequently they were 
enabled to work permanently. So valuable were the 
machines fabricated by the ingenuity of those men (for 
the inventions were all, or nearly all, originated by 
working men), that some of those lace-machines were 
sold for more than 1,000/. a-piece. Even common per- 
sons, for filing the parts of those machines, were men 
hired at the rate of one guinea or more per week/' 

The inference which the witness draws from this fact, 
is that a man's wits, when fairly left to themselves, will 
go much farther than is generally supposed to provide 
profitable employment for his labour ; and that we ought 
not hastily to assume that there is no employment for a 
man, or for a set of men. In fact, until all a man's own 
mental and bodily energies have been awakened by the 
spur of necessity — until so stimulated he has himself 
tried and failed, — relief may do him more harm than 
good ; for it will assuredly, if too easily attained, blunt 
those keen faculties of the mind, through which means 
alone unassisted man, if such he can be called while in 
possession of the gifts of his all-wise Creator, has so 
often triumphed over the greatest difficulties; and without 
which, under no circumstances, can he expect to improve 
his condition. 

Mr. Becher has given much attention to the means of 
improving the system of our poor-laws, and of putting 
an end to one of its greatest abuses. That abuse is the 
system of relieving able-bodied labourers by making up 
their wages out of the poor's-rate. Of the mischief done 
by this practice to the labourer, to his employer, and to 
the country at large, we believe there is no one who now 
entertains a doubt, or who does not wish to see it got 
rid of. This good riddance has been effected by Mr. 
Becher in his own neighbourhood, and by several other 
active and intelligent gentlemen, who acted upon his 
advice, in other parts of the country. His success, as 
well as that of others, affords a proof that when the 
nightmare of parish-allowance no longer presses upon 
the faculties and industry of the agricultural labourer, 
he is not far behind his manufacturing brethren in the 
active and successful pursuit of employment. 



Early Frugality.— In early childhood, you lay the foun- 
dation of poverty or riches, in the habits you give your 
children. Teach them to save everything, — not for their 
own use, for that would make them selfish--- but for some 
use. Teach them to share everything with their playmate* ; 
but never allow them to destroy anything. I onot TJfftflrl 
a family where the most exact economy was observed ;"yet 
nothing was mean or uncomfortable. It is the chaiidter^f 
true economy to be as comfortable with a little, as others 
can be with much. In this family, when the father bwnght 
home a package, the older children would, of their own 
accord, put away the paper and twine neatly, instead of 
throwing them in the fire, or tearing them to puces. If the 
little ones wanted a piece of twine to play scrateh-cradle, or 
spin a top, there it was in readiness ; and when thfcjr threw 
it upon the floor, the older children had no need to be told 
to put it again in its place. — From the Frugal Housewife, 

Pietro della Valle, an enterprising Italian traveller, who 
lived in the seventeenth century* and wrote an interesting 
account of many regions of the East, rarelv visited bv Euro- 
peans, married, when in Assy 1 of Christian 
parentage, and a native of rhough very 
i delicate, the fair Gisenua accompanied the wan- 
alian wherever he went, and was with him even 
when he fought as an officer of the Persian King. 
n. premature death separated her from the husband of her 
choice, as he was preparing to carry her to India — her body 
he did carry: he had it secured in a coffin, and placed on 
board of ship, in the cabin where he slept. For tour years 
it was the inseparable companion of his long and perilous 
journeys, by sea and by land ; and at the end of that period, 
he deposited it, with great pomp, in the tomb of his noble 
ancestors at Rome, pronouncing himself a funeral oration 
of considerable beauty, which contained an account of her 
extraordinary life. 

Lightning Conductors. — It is fancied bv many that it is 
quite sufficient to put up an iron rod, with one end in the 
ground and the other a few feet higher than the roof, to pro- 
tect a building from lightning. It should be impressed 
on the public that conductors, unless perfectly insulated, 
are calculated to produce the disaster they are intended to 
prevent. The best mode of insulating them is for them to 
pass through glass rings, and in no part to be in contact with 
any thing but glass. The lightning conductors placed on 
the Royal Exchange at Paris are a perfect model in this 
respect. 

In a small treatise on naval discipline, lately published, 
the following whimsical and ingenious mode of punishing 
drunken seamen is recommended. " Separate for one month 
every man who is found* drunk from the rest of the crew ; 
mark his clothes, DRUNKARD ; give him six-water grog, 
or, if beer, mixed one-half water ; let him dine when the 
crew has finished ; employ him in every dirty and disgraceful 
work." In a case where this was tried, the effects were so 
salutary, that in less than six months not a drunken man 
was to be found in the ship. The same system was intro- 
duced by the writer into every ship on board which he sub- 
sequently served. When First Lieutenant of the Victory 
and Diomede the beneficial consequences were decidedly 
acknowledged. The culprits were heard to say, that they 
woutt rather receive six dozen lashes at the gangway, and 
have dene with it, than be put into the " drunken mess" 
(for so it was termed) for a month. — Anatomy of Drunk- 
enness. 

„ Quoits in IntHa. — Quoits, as a manly and healthy exercise 
or game, were once very popular throughout England, and 
are still not uncommon. It appears from Captain Mundy 
that they are used as implements of war by the Seikhs, an 
independent and very martial tribe m India. "The Seikhs 
have a great variety of weapons, I observed the musket, 
matchlock, sword, spears of sundry forms, dagger, and battle- 
axe : but the arm that is exclusively peculiar to this sect is 
the quoit : it is made of beautiful thin steel, sometimes inlaid 
with gold ; in using it, the warrior twirls it swiftly round 
the fore finger, and launches it with such deadly aim, as, 
according toHheir own account, to be sure of his man at 
eighty paces.** It appears they wear these war-quoits on 
their arms like armlets, and on the top-knot (which ia pe- 
culiar to the Seikhs) of their turban. The edges of the quoits 
are very •harp.— Mundy % s Sketches. 



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strengthened by projecting buttresses. , In the upright, 
the vestibule (that is, the round part) consists of two 
stories, the upper one being about half the diameter of 
the lower story, which measures fifty- eight feet across 
the area. The lower part of the upper story is sur- 
rounded by a series of semicircular arches, intersecting 
each other, and forming a blank arcade ; behind which, 
and over the circular aisle (if it may be so termed), there 
is a continued passage. The staircase leading to the 
latter is on the north-west side ; and aBout half way 
up, in the substance of the wall, is a small dark cell, 
most probably intended as a place of confinement. Over 
the arcade are six semicircular headed windows. The 
clustered columns which support the roof are each 
formed bv four distinct shafts, which are surrounded, 
near the middle, by a triplicated band, and have square- 
beaded capitals ornamented in the Norman style. The 
trincipal entrance is directly from the west, but there is 
smaller one on the south-west side : the former opens 
from an arched porch, and consists of a receding semi- 
circular archway, having four columns on each side sup- 
porting archivolt mouldings which as well as the 



capitals and jambs, are ornamented with sculptured 
foliage, busts* and lozenges." 

The Temple Church contains many sepulchral monu- 
ments ; but the most remarkable are a number of figures 
in stone, disposed in two groups of five each. Five of 
these figures are cross-legged, from which it has been 
usual to consider them as the effigies of warriors who 
had fought with the infidels hi the Holy Land, It does 
not appear, however, that the attitude in question really 
has that import ; it being usual so to represent persons 
on their tombs who had merely formed the design or 
made a vow of performing a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, 
whether they had fulfilled it or not. The figures of the 
knights in the Temple Church are supposed to have 
been collected from various places, and to have been laid 
together in their present position long after the deaths 
of the persons whom they represent. Antiquaries have 
formed various conjectures with regard to the individuals 
for whom these figures are intended ; but they have not 
been able to offer anything on the subject beyond con- 
jecture, and in reference to several of the monuments 
not even that. 



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that time Venice, Mantua, Rome, Florence, Bologna, 
MHan, and Genoa, and. everywhere both improving his 
taste and knowledge by the study of the great works of 
his predecessors, and leaving proofs of his own skill and 
genius in numerous pictures which he executed for the 
sovereigns and wealthy inhabitants of the different states 
through which he passed. After this, returning to his 
native country, he was received there with the greatest 
distinction, and the Archduke having bestowed upon 
him an honourable and lucrative appointment, he took 
up his residence at Antwerp. Here the salary of his 
office and the sun received for the produc- 

tions of his rapid ed pencil enabled him to 

live in great spleimuur. x ue remainder of the history 
of Rubens presents him as sustaining the twofold cha- 
racter both of an illustrious painter and of an important 
political personage. It was in the latter of these capa- 
cities that he visited England in 1 630, his object being, 
as commissioned by the Court of Madrid, to facilitate 
the negotiation of a peace between this country and 
Spain. As usual, however, he availed himself of the 
opportunities which he derived from his reputation, and 
the exercise of his profession as an artist, to introduce 
himself to the confidence of the King and the other per- 
sons whom h€ luence ; nor was he, during 
the whole per less busy with his pencil 
than if paintii j sole occupation. Besides 
various works ited for the King and seve- 
ral of the nobiiiiy, ne painiea, by command of Charles I., 
the ceiling of the banque ting-house of Whitehall, for 
which he received 3000/. This painting was repaired 
in the reign of George II. by the English artist William 
Kent, and again about half a century ago by the much 
superior skill of Cipriani, who is said to have received 
2000/. for his trouble. It represents, in a series of nine 
compartments, the principal events of the reign of 
James I. Notwithstanding both a very active and a 
very temperate life, Rubens was visited in his fifty- 
seventh year by so sharp an attack of gout as to be dis- 
abled from ever again handling his pencil. He lived 
however for four years longer, when his death took place 
at Antwerp on the 30th of May, 1640. A life of brighter 
and more unshaded prosperity than that of Rubens has 
rarely fallen to the lot of man. To say nothing of the 
political importance and honours to which he attained, 
he had the glory of raising himself, in the general esti- 
mation of his contemporaries, to the first rank among 
the practitioners of his art, and indeed of seeing his 
name acquire a celebrity over all Europe unrivalled by 
any other existing painter. In one respect at least, as 
has been already intimated, Rubens must be considered 
as the most extraordinary painter that ever lived — in 
the miraculous ease and rapidity with which he exe- 
cuted his performances. Many of Rubens' s greatest 
works were actually finished in a few days ; and, 
although in his later years, and after the establish- 
ment of his reputation, there is no doubt that he often 
employed his pupils to fill up his designs and to do 
the more mechanical parts of the picture, while he 
contented himself with giving the finishing touches by 
his own hand, still not even in this way could he have 
completed the number of compositions he has left behind 
him without the most remarkable industry as well as 
fertility. His works are reckoned to amount to about 
fifteen hundred in all, of which about thirteen hundred 
have been engraved. Besides a good many which are 
to be found in private collections in England, the Na- 
tional Gallery in Pall Mall contains four or five, among 
which are his Rape of the Sabines. considered one of 
his greatest performances, rf exquisite 
beauty, and a fine allegorical the subject 
of Peace and War, which ^ the artist, 
while in England, for Charles I., and which he has ren- 
dered peculiarly interesting by the introduction of his 
own head and those of his wift and childrtn. All these 



pictures display in a very striking manner the luxuriance 
of this artist's style, and the splendour of his colouring, 
and evince as distinctly his extremely imperfect con- 
ception of ideal beauty. With great activity and rich- 
ness of fancy, in truth, Rubens had little or no imagi- 
nation ; nor would it perhaps be possible to find any 
better or more popularly intelligible exemplification of 
the distinction between these tw6 faculties than might 
l>e drawn from a comparison of his works with those 
of some of the greater masters. The general acquire- 
ments of Rubens, we ought to add, were very diversi- 
fied, as might be expected from the character of his 
mental powers ; and, as a man, he was very estimable 
for his freedom from envy, his generosity, his devotion 
to his wife and children, and his delight in simple 
and domestic enjoyments. 



THE LIBRARY. 



THE WEALTH OF NAT10N8 J BY ADAM SMITH. 

This is the celebrated work which is usually referred to as 
the grand fundamental text-book of the science of Political 
Economy. That name, though introduced before his 
time, and commonly employed since, has not been 
adopted by Dr. Smith. He designates the subject of 
his treatise the Wealth of Nations. But this is really 
the matter about which the science of Political Economy- 
is conversant. Its object is to expound the principles of 
the creation and most profitable distribution of national 
wealth. It is in this way distinguished from the science 
of politics, which embraces the consideration of national 
institutions and measures of government generally, 
whether they have reference to the best modes of aug- 
menting the public wealth, or to the effecting of any 
other end of public importance. 

It is necessary, however, to understand exactly what 
is meant by the term wealth as -used by political econo- 
mists. In former times wealth had nearly the same 
signification with weal or welfare ; as when in the Litany, 
God is besought to hear us " in all time of our tribula- 
tion, in all time of our wealth." But this is not the 
meaning of the word in the phrase " the wealth of 
nations," as employed in the science of political economy. 
Neither does it mean, on the other hand, what in popular 
language is now almost exclusively denominated wealth, 
that is, money. Money is considered in political eco- 
nomy as only one species of wealth or of riches, as it 
evidently is in reality. A man who possesses large 
stores of grain, or numerous herds of cattle, or ware- 
houses filled with cloth, or hardware, or any other arti- 
cles of manufacture, is as rich or wealthy as another 
man who has in his pocket or in the bank the gold or 
silver or bills which would purchase these commodities ; 
and it is the same with nations.. Excluding therefore 
those things which nature gives in unlimited quantities 
to all, such as air for example, and which therefore 
cannot be regarded as making a man rich though he 
should possess ever so much of them* the political eco- 
nomists consider every thing to be wealth, which, being 
subservient to human use or enjoyment, is capable at 
the same time of being appropriated, or made the pro- 
perty of ah individual. 

At first sight it may seem that this is no very digni- 
fied or important subject of scientific inquiry. But the 
wealth of nations, even in this restricted sense, will 
upon consideration be found to comprehend much or 
what most nearly concerns not only national happiness, 
but national greatness and national virtue. The com- 
mon prejudice has arisen chiefly from the natural but 
fallacious comparison we are apt to make between the 
case of a community and the case of an individual. In 
the latter we often see great riches produce neither 
superior virtue, nor superior happiness, and sometimes 
the very reverse of both. Hence the dangers and poti 



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tire evils of wealth, rather than its advantages and 
desirableness, have formed one of the favourite themes 
of moralists in ail ages. But let us just consider one 
thing. Against what is it that these warnings and ex- 
hortations toth of morality and religion have really 
been directed, and whose corrupting effects upon human 
character ;\.re taught by our own observation? Is 
it not what we may call superfluous wealth merely, or 
such a degree of affluence as exempts its possessor at 
least from the necessity of employing the faculties either 
of his body or his mind in acquiring a subsistence ? 
But has any community ever been placed in this state, 
or in anything approaching to this state? Nay, is it 
possible in the nature of things that any community 
ever should attain to this degree of wealth? The ut- 
most prosperity in this respect to which a whole nation 
ever can be elevated by the most skilful management of 
all the means and resources at its command, is nothing 
more than a state in which the constant" activity of the 
great body of the people will still be absolutely neces- 
sary even to prevent themselves and the few who do mot 
work from dying of want. It may be a condition of 
adequately rewarded industry, but certainly not one of 
general idleness. The case of what we call a wealthy 
nation, therefore, is in this way essentially distinguished 
from that of a wealthy individual. In the nation, in- 
deed, there may be a particular class or order of persons 
whose condition is exactly that of the individual ; and 
which may be corrupted and vitiated by its excessive 
wealth just as the individual often is. But such an 
order may exist in a poor nation just as well as in a rich 
one ; — in a state where the business of creating public 
wealth is least understood and worst managed, as well as 
in,pne where it is practised in the must scientific and 
perfect manner. Nay more, it is in a country where the 
mass of the jrtain to 

exert the m articular 

class which > posses- 

sion of it ' lerally is 

so) separate :heir fel- 

low men, deaaens mem to an mose Kinaiy sympathies 
which in a better order of things link one class in bro- 
therly affection to another, and offers them, in the help- 
lessness of all around them, the strongest temptation to 
oppression. A community of which all the members are 
in the enjoyment of dence and com- 

fort, can, like a mi , bear with im- 

punity a fulness of of which would 

be insupportable to one m a siaie or general debility, 
and will even find its strength in what would be the 
other's destruction. 

So far is the science of the wealth of nations from 
hiving for its object the production of any snch visionary 
and impossible scheme as an order of things in which all 
should be rich enough to subsist in idleness, that it 
looks to no other means, save universal industry, for the 
accomplishment of any of its expectations. The con- 
dition which it contemplates, as that in which the ends it 
aims at shall be roost perfectly realized, is that in which 
the power of labour that exists in the community shall 
be most effectually exerted and most completely taken 
advantage o£ Now instead of this being a condition 
unfavourable either to national virtue or to national 
greatness, it is in fact the only condition in which there 
can be much either of the one or of the other. A coun- 
try where the mass of the people are idle and poor, is a 
hot-bed in which vices and crimes grow as rank as 
wretchedness, — in which the general indolence inclines 
the minds of all to low and brutalizing indulgences, and 
ignorance and suffering combine to prompt to acts of 
outrage and wickedness— in which literature cannot 
flourish, nor any of the arts exist that tend either to em- 
bellish life, or to soften, refine, and ennoble the human 
character. But an industrious and wealthy country 



^a^i j£jt be the one it must be the other) presents a pic- 
ture in an respects the contrast of this. There the peo- 
ple are noV^ngaged either in breaking the laws or in 
wasting their time and their health in sensual and 
debasing pleases; for they have other pursuits to 
occupy their thought* and their energies, — pursuits that 
tend to make them better and happier, instead of more 
degraded and miserable. Every man, down even to 
the humblest labourer, is striving with his best activity 
to improve the condition of himself and his family, in 
obedience to one of the strongest instincts of our nature, 
and with hope shining over his heart like sun-light. 
All elegant enjoyments are widely diffused, made cheap 
by the universal taste which exists for them, and im- 
proved at the same time in their quality by the liberal 
encouragement which they hence receive. Even the 
most expensive of those pleasures which admit of parti- 
cipation (and all the most humanizing and exalting 
pleasures are of that character) are in this way rendered 
accessible to all. All certainly cannot have fine houses, 
or gorgeous furniture, or gay equipages ; but they may 
have much better things than these. The most costly 
books which are printed may be pu-chased by the small 
contributions of many readers, and placed in a common 
library; the most splendid dramatic ehows may be 
witnessed by congregated thousands for the outlay of a 
trifle by each ; all the charms of the divinest music may 
be enjoyed in a similar manner by multitudes at once ; 
successive crowds may, at the like insignificant cost to 
every individual, feast on the beauties of the noblest 
painting— or a portion of the public wealth may be de- 
voted to form a collection of the great masters of the 
pictorial art, which may then be thrown open to all ; 
other collections, galleries of statuary, museums of anti- 
quities, or of specimens of natural history, zoological gar- 
dens, in which are brought together the living natives of 
every clime of the earth, may be established on the same 
principle at the public charge, or even created by private 
associations; nor is there any reason why extensive 
and magnificent parks, or other domains, replete with 
all the attractions of natural scenery and the means of 
rural enjoyment, should not be purchased for their com- 
mon use by large bodies of men, who might otherwise be 
shut out from such gratifications. Now, all these are, 
things which cannot exist in any country without both in- 
forming and elevating the minds, and most materially 
improving the character and habits of the people. In 
whatever field of enterprise it may be thought glorious 
for a nation to distinguish itself, the nation which is 
raised by its wealth to this pitch of civilization will be 
sure to beat its less happily circumstanced rivals ; and 
whether it be for the victories of war or the nobler vic- 
tories of peace that its annals may be searched, it will 
be found to have asserted the superiority of its genius 
by achievements of no doubtful import. 

Such are the fruits of national wealth — of which, be it 
remembered, the only producing seed recognized by 
political economists is labour, and its most congenial 
air that of liberty. Industry left free — this is indeed the 
whole lesson which political economy teaches. It is a les- 
son than which it would be scarcely possible to point out 
another of more importance to all the highest earthly 
interests of mankind. For industry is the most formi- 
dable enemy of vice and crime and the best friend of 
virtue— -political freedom is die mother and sustaining 
nurse of all true national happiness and gveatness — and 
commercial freedom is the sovereign healer of national 
jealousies, the extinguisher of wars, and the grand 
diffuser of civilization. 

We have thought it better to sketch in this general 
manner the nature and objects of the science which the 
work before us professes to teach, than to attempt to 
present our readers with a minute analysis of the multi- 
farious contents of the work. Such an analysis, confined 



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wfefcia our brief limits, would be necessarily HUle better 
than a mere transcript of Dr. Smith's own tablexrf*** 11 ^ 
ients. With regard to the • Inquiry into the^^l 111 of 
Nations ' itself, we may observe that, after Having been 
for more than half a century before the wotfld, it still con- 
tinues to keep its place as the standard J*> rk on the sub- 
ject on which it .treats. But during the period that has 
elapsed since its first publication, the science of political 
economy has, as might be expected, made considerable 
advances ; and several of the principles laid down by Dr. 
Smith have been discovered to be erroneous, or at least to 
require correction and modification. An edition of the 
work, therefore, was wanted, in which the light of these 
subsequent investigations should be brought to illustrate 
the text, so that it should still present a view of the 
science in its most modern and improved state. Such 
an edition is that before us*. In the notes and supple- 
mentary dissertations which Mr. Macculloch has ap- 
pended to Dr. Smith's original statements, he has noticed 
whatever contributions of importance have been made 
to the science since the time of that writer; and ex- 
plained with great ability the views which at present 
prevail wherever they differ from those offered in the 
body of the work. A very learned preliminary dis- 
course also presents an account of the rise and progress 
of the science up to the era of the publication of the 
•Wealth of Nations,' followed by a brief but compre- 
hensive statement of the improvements which it has 
since received. To the whole work is added an index 
of unusual fulness, and apparently drawn up with great 
care, feo that in these four volumes we have really a 
complete encyclopaedia of the science of political eco- 
nomy, embracing its history from its rise to the present 
day, and detailing all the successive changes which its 
doctrines have undergone till they have been brought 
to the state iu which they are now. ' The price of the 
book is two guineas and a half. 

HYMN OF THE CITY. 

Not in the solitude 
AWne, may man commune with Heaven, or aas 

Only in lavage wood 
And tunny vale the present Deity ; 

Or only hear his voice 
Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice. 

Even here do I behold 
Thy steps, Almighty ! — here, amidst the crowd 

Through the great city rolled, 
With everlasting murmur deep and bud—* 

Choking the ways that wind 
'Ifongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. 

Thy golden i 
From the round 1 

And %htath« 
For them thSPnwil with air the unbounded skies; 

And giveflf them the stores rW 

Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. 

Thy spirit is around, 
Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along ; ' 

And this eternal sound- 
Voices and footfalls of the numberless throng- 
lake the resounding sea, 
Or tike the rainy tempests, speaks of Thee. 1 

And when the hours of rest 
Come, like a calm upon the mid-tea brine, 

Hushing Ha billowy breast — 
The quiet of that moment too is thine; 

It breathes of Him who keeps 
The vast and helpless City while it sleeps. 

William Cullsh BaTAMT. 




t, and on their dwellings lies, 



PROHIBITORY DUTIES. 

[From a Correspondent.] 
Having resided many years in Spain, I have been an 
wye-witness of the absurdity of prohibitory duties, and 

* An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations ; 
fajr Adam Snath, LLJ). With a Life of the Author, Introductory 
Discourse, Notes, and Supplemental Dissertation, by J. R.M'Culloch, 
ate* 3vol»8vo. London, 1*32. 



^^_- tier inefficiency to accomplish the purpose for 
which they are designed — that of protecting domestic 
manufactures. In Spain, articles of foreign fabric arc 
either charged with excessive duties, or subject to posi- 
tive prohibition. Cotton goods are classed in the latter 
alternative ; and yet any Englishman who ban resided in 
Madrid, or any other great town (I had ahrost said vil- 
lage) in Spain, well knows that he can always meet with 
any Manchester article which he may want. The price, 
of course, is much enhanced, but the thing is to be had. 
Immense bodies of smugglers are perpetually travelling 
from Portugal and from Bilboa to supply the northern 
and inland parts ; while Gibraltar, by means of small 
coasting vessels, attends to the demands on the shores of 
the Mediterranean. Smugglers, of course, are occa- 
sionally detected, and after suffering the punishment of 
working on the roads, with their legs confined in irons, 
for a few years, they are again let loose upon society, 
and not unfrequently become robbers. As to the dealers 
in prohibited articles, they are always prepared with a 
defence, in case of a suit being commenced' against them 
by the Exchequer. They either produce vouchers from 
the manufacturers at Barcelona, to make it appear that 
the denounced articles are of Spanish fabric, or endeavour 
to prove that they have purchased the merchandize at an 
authorized sale of goods condemned as contraband. As 
you may suppose, such practices give rise to forgery, 
perjury, a hatred of the laws, and, by consequence, an 
incessant study to evade them. 



Tristram Shandy — M. Eusebe Salverto, in his learned 
work on the Origin of Names and Places, gives "a local ha- 
bitation and a name" to Mr. Tristram, and cites Shandy of 
Shandy Hall as an instance of a local designation becom 
ing the surname of an individual ! The late Mrs. Gulftrer 
of Greenwich being asked if she was any relation to the far 
mous Captain Lemuel Gulliver ? replied, she believed she 
was, for her father had a portrait of the Captain in the par- 
lour, and alwavs used to call him " my uncle." — This was 
very well in Mrs. Gulliver, who might never have read Swift 
— but the learned M. Salverte to consider * Tristram Shandy' 
a true history! . r , 



Use of Tobacco by the Hottentots. — Mr. Barrow, in his 
Travels, speaks of the use made by the Hottentots of this 
plant, for the purpose of destroying snakes : " A Hottentot," 
says he, "applied some of it from the short end of his 
wooden tobacco-pipe to the mouth of the snake while darting 
out his tongue. The effect was as instantaneous as an elec- 
tric shock : with a convulsive motion that was momentary, 
the snake half untwisted itself, and never stirred more, and 
the muscles were so contracted that the whole animal felt 
hard and rigid, as if dried in the sun." "*# 

Hope in the bounty of God, and a perfect resignation to 
his divine will, are deeply implanted in the Arab s breast ; 
but this resignation does not paralyze his exertions so much 
as it does those of the Turks. I hawsjfceard Arabs reproach 
Turks for their apathy and stufidity, in ascribing to the will 
of God what was merely the result of their own faults or 
folly, quoting a proverb which says, "He bared his back to 
the stings of mosquitoes, and then exclaimed, God has de- 
creed that I should be stung/'— Burekhardt. v ' 



\ m The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Kaowledfe is at 
69, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 



LONDON:— CHARLES KNIOHT, PALL-MALL VAST. 



Shopkeepers and Hawkers stay be 



London, GaooMSiUD0S,>Panyer Alley, 

. Paternoster-Row. 
Bath, Sinus. 
Birmingham, Dbakx. 
Bristol, Wzstlsy and Co. 
Carlisle, Thtonam. 
Derby, Wilkiks and So*. 
Falmouth, Phil*. 
Hull, STxramrsov. 
Leeds, Bainxs and Nkwsomk. 
Lincoln, Brooks and Sons. 



Wholesale by the /bfisntai 



Liverpool Willmxs and Sum. 
Manchester, Robinson; and Wan* aad 

8imms. 
NewcuOe^pon-Tyne,CMAf0MT^ 
Norwich, JamaoLO and 80x^^2 
Nottingham, Waiovr. ^T^-' ' 
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[June 30, 1883 



One of me earnest uiuuuiiieiiu) in muut mai unruuteu 
the notice of Europeans was the excavation of Ele- 
phanta, situated in a beautiful island of the same name, 
called by the natives Goripura, or Mountain City. This 
island is in the bay of Bombay, seven miles from Bom- 
bay castle ; it is about six miles in circumference, and 
composed of two long hills with a narrow valley be- 
tween them. 

The island has taken its familiar name from a co- 
lossal statue of an ettphant, cut out of a detached mass 
of blackish rock unconnected with any stratum below. 
This figure has had another on its back, which the old 
travellers call a young elephant, but which, as far as we 
can judge from the drawing of what remains of it, has 
much more probably been a tiger. The head and neck 
of this elephant dropped off about 1814, owing to a 
large fissure that ran up through its back. The length 
of this colossal figure, from the forehead to the root of 
the tail, was 13 feet 2 inches; and the height at the 
head 7 feet 4 inches. The remains of this colossus 
stand about 250 yards to the right of the usual landing- 
place, which is towards the southern part of the island. 

After proceeding up the valley till the two mountains 
unite, we come to a narrow path, after ascending which 
there is a beautiful prospect of the northern part of the 
island, and the opposite shores of Salsette. " Advancing 
forward and keeping to the left along the bend of the 
hill, we gradually mount to an open space, and come 
suddenly on the grand entrance of a magnificent temple, 
whose huge massy columns seem to give support to the 
whole mountain which rises above it. 

" The entrance into this temple, which is entirely 
hewn out of a stone resembling porphyry, is by a spa- 
cious front supported by two massy pillars and two 
pilasters forming three openings, under a thick and 
steep rock overhung by brushwood and wild shrubs. 
The long ranges of columns that appear closing in per- 
spective on every side; the flat roof of solid rock 
that seems to be ffirevented from falling only by the 
massy pillars, whose capitals are pressed down and 
flattened as if by the superincumbent weight ; the dark- 
ness that obscures the interior of the temple, which is 
dimly lighted only by the entrances ; and the gloomy 
Vol. I • 



uppCTUtuice ui iiic gigauiu; bujiic ugurert ranged along 

the wall, and hewn, like the whole temple, out of the 
living rock, — joined to the strange uncertainty that 
hangs over the history of this place, — carry the mind 
back to distant periods, and impress it with that kind of 
uncertain and religious awe with which the grander 
works of ages of darkness are generally contemplated 

" The whole excavation consists of three principal 
parts : the great temple itself, which is in the centre, 
and two smaller chapels, one on each side of the great 
temple. These two chapels do not come forward into 
a straight line with the front of the chief temple, are 
not perceived on approaching the temple, and are con- 
siderably in recess, being approached by two narrow 
passes in the hill, one on each side of the grand 
entrance, but at some distance from it After advancing 
to some distance up these confined passes, we find each 
of them conduct to another front of the grand excava- 
tion, exactly like the principal front which is first seen j 
all the three fronts being hollowed out of the solid rock, 
and each consisting of two huge pillars with two pilas- 
ters. The two side fronts are precisely opposite to each 
other on the east and west, the grand entrance facing 
the north. The two wings of the temple are at the 
upper end of these passages, and are close by the grand 
excavation, but have no covered massage to connect them 
with it*" 

From the northern entrance co the extremity of this 
cave is about 130£ feet, and from the eastern to the 
western side 133. Twenty-six pillars, of which eight are 
broken, and sixteen pilasters, support the roof. Neither 
the floor nor the roof is in the same plane, and conse- 
quently the height varies, being in some parts 17 J, in 
others 15 feet Two rows of pillars run parallel to one 
another from the northern entrance and at right angles 
to it, to the extremity of the cave ; and the pilasters, 
one of which stands on each side of the two front pillars, 
are followed by other pilasters and pillars also, forming 
on each side of the two rows already described, another 
row, running parallel to them up to the southern extremity 
of the cave. The pillars on the eastern and western 
front, which are like those on the northern side, are also 
• Mr. W. Enkine, in the Bombay Literary Transactions. 



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continued across the temple from east to west. Thus 
the ranges Of pillars form a* number of parallel lines 
intersecting one another at right angles— the pillars of 
the central parts being considered as common to the 
two sets of intersecting lines. The pillars vary both in 
their size and decorations, though the difference is not 
sufficient to strike the eye at first. 

All the walls are covered with reliefs (which are yet 
very little known for want of complete drawings), but 
are described as being in good proportion nnd produc- 
ing rather a pleasing effect than the contrary. All the 
sculptures refer to the Indian mythology, and the tem- 
ple seem$ to have been the special property of the god 
Siva, s : .nce he appears very frequently with his usual 
attributes. In one place we see him as half man and 
half woman* with one breast and four hauds, in one of 
which he holds the snake. 

In Mr* Dartiell's Views in India (vol. v. pi. 7) we 
have a beautiful drawing of the horthern front of the 
Elephanta cave* with its overhanging trees and shrubs. 
His eighth plate is that which we have above given. 
" The view is taken near the centre of the temple look- 
ing westward. The space between four of the pillars 
is formed into a small temple, sacred to Mahadiva 
(Siva), and has an entrance on each side, guarded by 
colossal figures." " On the walls are several groups of 
figures in basso-relievo, evidently relating to the Hindoo 
mythology ; many of them are of colossal dimensions 
and well executed. To the east and west are small apart- 
ments, decorated also in the same manner. This exca- 
vation is considerably elevated above the sea ; the floor, 
nevertheless, is generally covered with water during the 
monsoon season; the rain being then driven in by the 
wind ; a circumstance to which possibly its present state 
of decay is chiefly owing." 

Larger excavations of this kind are found in the 
neighbouring island of Salsette. But these are far sur- 
passed by the temples of Ellora, which are in the pro- 
vince of Hyderabad, about twenty miles uorth-west from 
Aurungabad, the capital, and 239 east of Bombay. It 
may be considered as near the centre of India. Here 
we have a granite mountain, which is of an amphithe- 
atre form, completely chiselled out from top to bottom, 
and filled with innumerable temples ; the god Siva 
alone having, it is said, about twenty appropriated to 
himself. To describe the numerous galleries and rows 
of pillars which support various chambers lying one 
above another, the steps, porticos, and bridges of rock 
over canals, also hewn out of the solid rock, would be 
impossible; and we recommend those who have the 
opportunity to look at Daniel l's designs, which will serve 
to give some idea of this wonderful place. 
. The rock-cut temples of India are generally supposed 
to be of higher antiquity than pagodas* or temples, 
built on the surface of the earth. 

V Abridged from « British Museum— Egyptian Anuquities. , 



•ftlE WEATHER,-No. 3. 

Bfetf Jotfsort, in his play of * Every Man out of his 
Hufttollr,' htti ft character of which some examples 
may still be found, evert in our own day. It is that of 
a credulous man, who relies implicitly on the Weather 
Prophecies of the almanacs of his time ; — and, his barns 
being full, resolves not td sow his ground, because the 
almanacs forctel 

" Rotten weather and unseasoned hours." 
This species 'of credulity is probably not very often 
now carried as far as in the instance of Sordido, the 
dupe of the play ; — but still there are some amongst us 
who will not cut their grass till they have seen what 

• The word pagoda is a corruption of Bhaga-vati, " holy house," 
One of theteveral names by which the Hindoo temples are known. 



*' Master Moore" says about the weather. In nine - 
cases out of ten these superstitious confiders in an 
almost worn-out imposture, have in the end to exclaim 
with the miser of the old dramatist, " Tut, these star- 
monger knaves, who would trust em ? One says, dark 
and rainy, when 'tis as clear as crystal ; another says, 
tempestuous blasts and storms, and 'twas as calm as a 
milk-bowl. Here be sweet rascals for a man to credit 
his whole fortunes with* !'* 

Now, let us see what the almanac^ oracle of the 
present time — " Francis Moore, Physician" — says about 
the weather, for June, 1832. He says, in one of his 
narrow columns which runs parallel with the calendar 
of the present month, " Variable, with thunder showers 
flying about. Some showers at intervals, attended with 
electrical phenomena, even to the end/' Be it remem- 
bered that this prophecy is for all parts of the United 
Kingdom — for England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland ; 
— for the hilly districts and for the plains, — for the 
coasts and for the inland countries. A correspondent, 
who writes to us about the weather, very sensibly says, 
" Does it not often happen that they have many rainy 
days successively at Manchester, whilst not a drop falls 
at Leeds ? How then can any man's tables about the 
moon, or general rules. for the weather, or the prophecies 
of almanacs, answer for both the hilly and level 
districts? The Cheshire men say that their rugged-topt 
hills knock out the bottoms of the clouds, and leave 
them as leaky as a sieve while passing over Manchester.'' 
So much for the universal application of these astrolo- 
gical predictions of the weather. 

But let us further examine this prophecy of Moore's 
Almanac for the present month of June. There are 
some who impudently defend the publication of such 
predictions, as well as the predictions of political events 
which the same almanac contains ; — and they say that 
the weather prophecies are only intended to give the 
average results of many years of actual observation, 
which make more impression upon the farmer's mind 
iu this form than if he were to refer himself to meteoro- 
logical tables of the barometer, ofWie thermometer, of 
the hygrometer, and of the rain-gauge. Now, here is a 
prediction calculated to frighten the credulous agri- 
culturist into a belief that the whole of June, throughout 
the country, will be unfavourable to hay-making: — 
" Showers at intervals, attended with electrical pheno- 
mena, even to the end." Electrical phenomena*! This 
is a phrase as terrific as the obscurities of the ancient ora- 
cles. A phenomenon, as most of our readers know, is an 
appearance— anything made manifest to us in any way ; 
and as electricity is doubtless one of the most important 
agents in producing particular states of the weather, rain 
and sunshine, wind and calm, heat and cold, may be 
equally electrical phenomena. But " showers at inter- 
vals, attended with electrical phenomena^" is a phrase 
naturally calculated to frighten the ignorant into a belief 
that the weather of June, " even unto the end," will be 
rainy, attended with heavy storms ; the most unfavour- 
able state, because producing the greatest uncertainty 
and expense in the work of getting in the hay-harvest. 
This prediction was probably manufactured a year ogo : 
it was printed in October last ; and so far from giving a 
notion of what is the average weather for June— the 
only matter upon which the prediction-monger could 
possess the slightest information — he prophesies directly 
in the teeth of the best meteorological records ; for it is 
a well-known fact that in June the average number of 
days on which rain falls is under twelve — the lowest 
number of any month in the year. June, therefore, is 
in general the most favourable mfmth for hay-makingr., 
whatever exceptions there may be in particular years ; 
of which " Francis Moore " could know no more l>efbre- 
hand than the most ignorant peasant whom he deludes, 

* Every Man out of his Humour j Act ill. Scene 7. 



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But Jet us look a little further at the prophecies of 
the Weather-Almanac. June being lost to the hay- 
farmer by the fear of " rain and electrical phenomena," 
July is to make him happy "with fair and hot weather." 
The hay-harvest therefore will be, if possible, deferred 
by the dupes onward to July. Now in July a con- 
tinuance of rainy weather commonly happens about the 
middle of the month ; and this periodical tendency to 
rain has given rise to the popular tradition of M. Swithin 
Of course there- are exceptions to this tendency ; but in 
this, as in most cases, the popular error has some little 
foundation in troth. The chances, therefore, are that 
the farmer who, for fear of " electrical phenomena," has 
let June pass over without cutting his grass, will find a 
very short interval between the beginning of July and 
the periodical rains of the middle of that month ; and 
thus a great deal of national property may be destroyed, 
and the credulous individual* s capital expended in vain, 
because he has chosen to believe in a musty cheat, of 
which even the propagators of the deception are 
ashamed. 

We have endeavoured to show in a former Number 
(and we shall continue the subject in a future paper), 
that by the careful use of good instruments, some few 
facts may be established as guides in operations depen- 
dent upon the weather. Iu the place of these the obser- 
vations of shepherds, fishermen, and others who have 
attended to the passing and local signs of winds, and 
clouds, and tints of the sky, and other omens, are not 
to be despised. These men are practical philosophers, 
who may fairly claim some accurate knowledge of the 
weather from day to day. They are much too sensible 
and honest to pretend to any power of predicting if 
it will be fair or foul weather, for a year, or a month, 
or even a week beforehand. Such a man has been 
described by the poet : — 

" Iu his shepherd's calling he vas prompt, 

And watchful more than ordinary men. 

Hence had he learned the meaning of all winds, 

Of blasts of every tone ; and, oftentimes, 

When others heeded not, he heard the South 

Make subterraneous music, like the noise 

Of bagpipers on distant Highland hills." 

The late Sir Humphrey Pavy, one of the most suc- 
cessful modern explorers of the secrets of nature, was 
not above attending to, and explaining the, " weather- 4 
omens" which are derived from popular observation. 
In his * Salmonia' he has the following dialogue 
between H aliens (a fly-fisher), Poietes (a poet), Phy- 
sicus (a man of science), and Ornither (a sportsman) : — 

" Poiet. I hope we shall have another good day to-morrow, for 
the clouds are red in the west. 

" Phtjt. I have no doubt of it, for the red has a tint of purple. 

" Hal. Do you know why this tint portends fine weather ? 

u Phtjs. The air, when dry, I believe, refracts more red, or heat- 
making rays ; and as dry air is not perfectly transparent, they are 
again reflected in the horizon. I have generally observed a coppery 
or yellow sun-set to foretel rain ; but, as an indication of wet weather 
approaching, nothing rs more certain than a halo round the moon, 
which is produced by the precipitated water ; and the larger the 
circle, the nearer the clouds, and consequently the more ready to fall. 

" //a/. I have often observed that the old proverb is correct — 
* A rainbow in the morning is the shepherd's warning; 
A rainbow at night is the shepherd'* delight.' 

Can you explain this omen ? 

" Phys. A rainbow can only occur when the clouds containing, or 
depositing, the rainsnre opposite the sun, — and in the evening* the 
raiubow is in the east, and in the morning in the west *, and as our 
heavy rains, in this climate, are usually brought by the westerly wind, 
a rainbow in the west indicates that the bad weather is on the road, 
by the wind, to us ; whereas the rainbow in the east proves that the 
rain in these clouds is passing from us. 

" Poiet. I have often observed, that when the swallows fly high 
fine weather is to be expected or continued ; but when they fly low, 
and close to the ground, rain is almost surely approaching. Can 
you account for this ? 

" Hal. Swallows follow the flies and gnats, and flies and gnats 
usually delight in warm strata of air ; and as warm air is lighter, 
and usually inoister, than cold air, when the warm strata of air are 
high, there is less chance of moisture being thrown down from them 



by the mixture with cold air ; but when the warm and moist air is 
close to the surface, it is almost certain that, as the cold air flows 
down into it, a deposition of water will take place. 

" Poiet. I have often seen sea-gulls assemble on the land, -and 
have almost always observed that very stormy and rainy weather was 
approaching. I conclude that these animals, sensible pf a current 
of air approaching from the ocean, retire to the land to shelter them- 
selves from the storm. 

" Orn. No such thing. The storm is their element, and the little 
petrel enjoys the heaviest gale ; I ecause, living on the smaller sea 
insects, he is sure to find his food in the spray of a heavy wave, and 
you may see him flitting above the edge of the highest surge. I be- 
lieve that the reason of this migration of sea-gulls, and other sea 
birds, to the land, is their security of finding fcod ; and they may 
l>e observed, at this time, feeding greedily on the earth-worms and 
larvae, driven out of the ground by severe floods ; and the fish, on 
which they prey in fine weather in the sea, leave the surface, and 
go deeper in storms. The search after food, as we have agreed 
on a former occasion, is. the principal cause why animals change their 
places. The different tribes of the wading birds always migrate when 
rain is about to take place ; and I remember once, in Italy, having 
been long waiting, in the end of March, for the arrival of the double 
snipe in the Campagna of Rome, a great flight appeared on the 3d 
of April, und the day after heavy rain set in, which greatly interfered 
with my sport. The vulture, upon the same principle, fellows armies : 
and I have no doubt that the augury of the ancients was * good deal 
founded upon the observation of the instincts of birds. There are 
many superstitions of the vulgar owing to the same source. For 
anglers, iu spring, it \* always unlucky to see single magpies* — feut 
(wo may be always regarded as a favourable omen j and the reason 
is, that in cold and stormy weather one magpie alone leaves the nest 
in search of food, the other remaining sitting upon the eggs or the 
young \>nes ; but when two go out together it is only when the 
weather is warm and mild, and favourable for fishing. 

" Poitt* The singular connections of causes and effects to which 
you have just referred, makes superstition less to be wondered at, 
particularly amongst the vulgar ; and when two facts, naturally un- 
connected, have been accidentally coincident, it is not singular tfctt 
this coincidence should have been observed and registered, and that 
omens of the mostt absurd kind should be trusted in. Jp the west oi 
England, half a century ago, a particular hollow noise on the tn a 
coast was referred to a spirit or goblin, called Buoca, and was sup- 
posed to foretel a shipwreck > the philosopher knows that sound 
travels much faster than currerfts in the air-^aid the sound always 
foretold the approach of a very heavy storm, which seldom takes 
place on that wild and rocky coast without a shipwreck on seme 
part of its extensive shores, surrounded by the Atlantic." 

We may not improperly conclude this paper with 
some lines which have been transmitted to us, as a 
production of the late Dr. Jenner, the discoverer of 
vaccination. We, of course, do not recommend an 
implicit reliance upon such natural prophecies of the 
weather of the coming day. But, at any rate, whatever 
connected with this subject tends to open a man's own 
eyes,— whatever excites in him the habit of observation 
and comparison, — is a benefit ; whilst a reliance, on the 
contrary, on the unprincipled quackeries of the more 
popular almanacs which still disgrace our country, us well 
as every other prostration of the understanding before 
the shrine of ignorance, is the most deceptive of all states 
of the human mind, and the most likely to engender a 
train of other delusions which shut up the sources of real 
knowledge* and degrade the whole moral as well as 
intellectual character. 

SIGNS OF RAIN. 

Addressed by Dr. Jenner, in 1810, to a Lady who asked him if he 
thought it would rain to-morrow. 

The hollow winds begin to blew, 
The clouds look black, the glass is low : 
The soot fulls down, the spaniels sleep, 
And spiders from their cobwAs creep : 
Last night the sun went pale to bed, 
The moon in halos hid her head : 
The boding shepherd heaves a sigh, 
For see, a rainbow spans the sky ; 
The walls are damp, the ditches smell, 
" Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel ; 
The squalid toads at dusk were seen 
Slowly crawling o'er the green j 
Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry, 
The distant hills are looking nigh ; 
Hark, how the chairs and tables crack, 
Old Betty '8 joints are on the rack ; 
And see von rooks, how odd their flight, 
They imitate the gliding kite* 

Rt 



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Or teem precipitate to fall 
As if they felt the piercing hall ; 
How restless are the snorting swine, 
The busy flies disturb the kine, 
Low o'er the grass the swallow wings, 
The cricket too, how loud she sings, " 
Puss on the hearth with velvet paws 
Sits wiping o'er her whiskerM jawB : — 
Twill surely rain, I see, with sorrow, 
Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow. 



THE BRITISH MUSEUM.— No. 4. 



[The Mush-Ox.] 
We shall occasionally turn aside from the monuments of 
Art in the British Museum to notice some of the speci- 
mens in the collection of Natural History. Stuffed 
skins and skeletons are, of course, much less interesting, 
both to the scientific student df zoology and to the 
ordinary observer, than the living animal, retaining his 
natural habits, as far as they can be preserved, in a 
menagerie. But, at the same time, a stuffed skin 
affords a much better notion of the animated creature 
than the best drawing ; and, in some cases, the living 
specimen cannot be procured, or kept alive, in this 
country. In such cases we are compelled to resort to 
such preserved specimens as that of the mu*k-ox t on 
the great staircase of the Museum. 

This specimen is very faithfully represented in the 
above wood-cut. The animal, of which this skin was 
once a part, was shot by some of the persons accom- 
panying Captain Parry, in one of his expeditions to the 
Polar Seas ; and was presented to the Museum by the 
Lords of the Admiralty. The appearance of the musk- 
ox, as the visitor will observe, is strikingly different 
from that of the common black cattle of Great Britain. 
Its limbs are singularly short,— its crooked horns are 
broad and flattened, — long thick hair covers the whole 
of its trunk, hanging down nearly to the ground, — and 
its short tail, bending inwards, is entirely hidden by the 
long hair of the rump and hind quarters. It will be 
noticed that the hair is particularly, thick under the 
throat, looking something like a horse's mane inverted. 
The adaptation of the structure of this animal to the 
frozen regions which he inhabits, offers one of the 
most striking illustrations of design which the natural 
world exhibits. The shortness of the creature's limbs 
prevents that exposure of the trunk to the snow-storms 
and the cold, which would result from a greater elevation ; 
whilst he is more effectually protected from the severity 
* of the seasons by the dense mass of hair with which his 
whole body is covered, and which, in winter, becomes a 
thick woolly coat, beneath the long straight hair which 



forms his outer garment. The Author of the Appendix 
to Parry's Second Voyage, in noticing the remarkable 
projection of the orbits of the eyes in this species, con 
siders that their formation is necessary to carry the eye 
of the animal clear beyond the large quantity of hair 
required to preserve the warmth of the head. 

Thus protected from the inclemency of winter cold, 
the musk-ox remains the contented and happy inhabi- 
tant of the most barren and desolate parts of the earth. 
Within the Arctic Circle, in those almost inaccessible 
regions which lie nearest the North Pole, large herds ot 
these quadrupeds are found, appearing to derive as much 
enjoyment from existence as the cattle who graze on the 
most luxuriant pastures, beneath a genial sky. They are 
not often found at a great distance from woods ; but 
when they feed upon open grounds they prefer the most 
precipitous situations, climbing amidst rocks with all the 
agility and precision of the mountain-goat or the chamois. 
Grass, when they can get it, moss, twigs of willow, and 
pine shoots, constitute their food. The parts of the polar 
regions inhabited by the musk-ox are thus described in 
the Appendix to Parry's Second Voyage : — 

" This species of ox inhabits the North Georgian Islands 
in the summer months. They arrived in Melville Island in 
the middle of May, crossing the ice from the southward,* 
and quitted it on their return towards the end of September. 
The musk-ox may be further stated, on Esquimaux infor- 
mation, to inhabit the country on the west of Davis' Strait- 
and on the north of Baffin* s Bay ; as a head and horns ana 
a drawing of a bull being shown to the Esquimaux of the 
west coast of Davis* Strait who were communicated with on 
the 7 th of September, were immediately recognized, and the 
animal called by the name of Umlngmack. This is evidently 
the same with the Umimak of the Esquimaux of Wolsten* 
holme Sound, who were visited by the former expedition, and 
of which nothing more could be learnt at the time from their 
description than that it was a large horned animal inhabit- 
ing the land, and certainly not a rein-deer. It is probable 
that the individuals which extend their summer migration 
to the north-east of Baffin's Bay, retire during the winter to 
the continent of America, or to its neighbourhood, as the 
species is unknown in South Greenland/ 



Captain Franklin, in his .Journey to the Polar Sea, 
has given the following account of the habits of this 
species : — 

" The musk-oxen, like the buffalo, herd together in bands 
and generally frequent barren grounds during the summer 
months, keeping near the rivers, but retire to the woods in 
winter. They seem to be less watchful than most other 
wild animals, and when grazing are not difficult to approach, 
provided the hunters go against the wind. When two or 
three men get so near a herd as to fire at them from dif- 
ferent points, these animals, instead of separating or running 
away, huddle closer together, and several are generally killecl ; 
but if the wound is not mortal they become enraged, and 
dart in the most furious manner at the hunters, who mu£t 
be very dexterous to evade them. They can defend them- 
selves by their powerful horns against wolves and bears, 
which, as the Indians say, they not unfrequently kill. The 
musk-oxen feed on the same substances with the rein-deer, 
and the prints of the feet of these two animals are so much 
alike, that it requires the eye of an experienced hunter to 
distinguish them. The largest killed by us did not exceed 
hi weight three hundred pounds. The flesh has a musky 
disagreeable flavour, particularly when the animal is lean, 
which unfortunately for us was the cas# with all that we 
now killed/* 

The bulls of this species killed during Parry's second 
voyage weighed, upon an. average, about 700 lbs, 
yielding about 400 lbs. of meat ; and they stood about 
10 \ hands high at the withers. 

On the staircase of the Museum are also stuffed 
specimens of a male and female Giraffe, or Camelopard, 
which were presented to the Museum by Mr. Burchell, 
the traveller in Africa. The living giraffe which was 
presented to George IV. in 1827, by the Pacha of 
Egypt, died in 1829. The other giraffe sent to the 



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government of France, in 1927, is still living in the 
Jardin des Plantes, at Paris. It is impossible from a 
stuffed specimen to form an adequate idea of the grace 
and beauty of this remarkable animal ; nor of the im- 
pression produced upon the senses by a creature of such 
enormous height lifting up its head to gather the tender 
leaves from branches three times as high as a tall man. 
Till the living giraffes were brought to Eugkind and 
France there was a general belief that the, descriptions 
of this animal were partly fabulous. It is now estab- 
lished that the account which was given of "this animal 
by Le Vaillant, one of the most amusing of travellers, 
who saw the animal in its native woods, is'" perfectly 
accurate. We copy the following description' from his 
Second Voyage, as translated in * The Menageries,' 
Vol.1.:— ^ 

" The giraffe ruminates, as every animal does that pos- 
sesses, at the same, time, horns and cloven feet. It grazes 
also in the same way ; but not often, because the country 
which it inhabits has little pasturage. Its ordinary food is 
the leaf of a sort of mimosa, called by the natives kanaap, 
and by the colonists, kamecldoorn. This tree being only 
found in the country of the Namaquas, may probably afford 
a reason why the giraffe is there fixed, and why he is not 
seen in those regions of Southern Africa where the tree does 
^ot grow. 



*' Doubtless ill • most bfuuiiiiii ;art of his body is the 
head. The nioiun i> muo-II : the eye, are brilliant and full. 
Between liu eyes, and above the nose is a swelling, very 
prominent and well defined. This prominence is not a 
fleshy excrescence, but an enlargement of the bony sub- 
stance ; and it seems to be similar to the two little lumps, 
or protuberances, with which the top of his head is armed, 
and which, being about the size of a hen s egg, spring, on* 
each side, at the commencement of the mane. His tongue 
is rough, and terminates in a point. The two jaws have, 
on each side, six molar teeth ; but the lower jaw has, be- 
yond these, eight incisive teeth, while the upper jaw has 
none. 

"The hoofs, which are cleft, and have no nails, resemble 
those of the ox. We may remark, at first sight, that those 
of the fore feet are larger than those of the hind. The leg 
is very slender, but the knees have a prominence, because 
the animal kneels when he lies down. 

" If I had not myself killed the giraffe, I should have be- 
lieved, as have many naturalists, that the forelegs are much 
longer than the hind. This is an error; for the legs have, 
in general, the proportion of those of other quadrui eds. I 



say in general, because in this genus there are varieties, as 
there are in animals of the same «*»*!— * * * **•*- defence, 
as that of the horse and other masts in 

kicks ; and bis binder limbs arc blows so 

rapid, that the eye cannot follow mem. i ney are sufficient 
for his defence against the lion. He never employs his 
horns in resisting any attack. * * * * The giraffes, male 
and female, resemble each other in their exterior, in their 
youth. Their obtuse horns are then terminated by a knot 
of long hair: the female preserves this peculiarity some 
time, but the male loses it at the age of three years. The 
hide, which is at first of a light red, becomes of a deeper 
colour as the animal advances in age, and is at lerurfh of a 
yellow brown in the female, and of a brown approaching to 
black in the male. By this difference of colour thennale 
may be distinguished from the female at a distance. The 
skin varies in both sexes, as to the distribution and form of 
the spots. The female is not so high as the male, and the 
prominence of the front is not so marked. She has four 
teats. According to the account of the natives, she goes 
with young about twelve months, and has one at a birth, ' 



THE WEEK. 




[Flaxman.] 

July 4. — On this day, in the year 1715, was born at 
Haynichen, near Freyberg, in Saxony, the German poet, 
Christian Furchteoott Gellert. Gellert was not a 
man of the highest genius ; but appearing at a favourable 
time, being animated by the finest spirit of benevolence 
and- virtuous ambition, and possessing just the talent* 
and character of mind suited to the task which he un- 
dertook, that of awakening 4he general body of his coun- 
trymen to a" taste for literature, he produced as great 
and as gratifying an effect by his works as, perhaps, 
any writer that ever lived. His father was a clergyman, 
and he was originally intended for the same profession ; 
but his first attempt in the pulpit convinced him that his 
constitutional timidity would probably prevent him from 
ever becoming an effective public speaker. He then 
resolved to devote himself to the instruction of his coun 
trymen through the press. At this time Germany was 
almost destitute of a national literature. The country 
had given -birth to many great scholars ; and both clas- 
sical learning and the abstruse philosophy of the middle 
ages were cultivated with zeal and success in its colleges. 
But scarcely any one had yet arisen to write for the 
people. This Gellert and a few of his friends resolved 
to do. Discarding all the repulsive technicalities of the 
schools, they proceeded to expound and illust rate the 
great principles of morality, metaphysics, and f" 1 *^**" 



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for the imc of society at largii, in a natural and popular 
yle, such as was fitted to be intelligible and interesting 
to all. In this patriotic enterprise Gellert may be said 
to have spent his life. Every successive work which he 
produced was received with delight by Germany ; but 
his celebrated * Fables' were read with rapture by all 
classes of the population. One day a peasant appeared 
at Gellert's door in Leipsic, with a waggon loaded with 
"" fire- wood. " Is it not here," asked the man, " that Mr. 
Gellert lives?" On being told that it was, he desired 
to see tiie master of the house ; and having been brought 
to him, " Are not you, sir," he said, " the author of 
the ' Fables?' " " I am," replied Gellert 4 < Well then," 
said the other, " here is a load of wood, which I have 
brought you, to thank you for the pleasure which your 
book has given to myself, my wife, and my children" 
By such a heart as Gellert's this was probably felt to be 
a more touching tribute to his powers than the plaudits 
of crowded theatres would have been. A nother time he 
was standing in the workshop of a bookbinder, when a 
villager came in with a book in his hand. " Here," said 
he, " I want this book strongly bound." " Where did you 
pick up this .book? " asked the binder. " I bought it in 
our town/' replied the delighted possessor pf the treasure ; 
"it has made the steward of the manor and the school- 
master laugh till then hftvp. almost snlit their sides : I 
have a little boy. tder ; he 

shall read from 1 , while I 

smoke my pipe, the ale- 

house." Even me w^r ^commonly, cau^u uie seven 
years* war) which ravaged a great par{ pf Germany 
from 1756 to 1763, did not extinguish the popular en- 
thusiasm for the writings of Gellert- When Leipsic 
was taken by the Prussians in 1758, a lieutenant of hus- 
sars found out the peaceable poet in his house, and not 
contented with thanking him warmly for the delightful 
books to which, he said, he owed so many pleasant 
hours, insisted, by way of more substantially testifying 
his gratitude, upon making him a present of a pair of 
pistols, which he had taken from a Cossack. Nay, the 
common soldiers themselves used to come, almost in re- 
giments, to hear a course of lectures on moral pnilospphy, 
which he read in public about this time ; and \\ is related 
that one man, having obtained leave of absence, turned a 
considerable way out of his road, on his journey hpme- 
wards,-in order to see, as he expressed it, that honetf fel- 
low, Mr. Gellert, whose books had saved him from oecom- 
ing a profligate. The works of Gellert have been fre- 
quently printed in a collected form, and amount, in the 
fullest edition?, to ten volumes duodecimo. He had 
been afflicted during the greater part of .his life by bad 
health; and died on the night of the 13th of December, 
1769, in the fifty-fifth year of his age. Having lingered 
long in considerable pain, he remarked to the physician, 
a short time before his death, that he had not believed it 
would have been so difficult to die, and asked when the 
termination of his sufferings might be expected. When 
be was informed that another hour would probably re- 
lease him, " God be praised," he said ;« " still another 
hour !" and then lay in silent resignation, till the expected 
deliverance came. Germany lamented, with all the tokens 
of national grief, the loss of her amiable instructor ; and 
medals and public monuments testified the admiration 
and gratitude of all ranks of his countrymen. 

July 6. — The birth-day of John Flaxman, the late 
eminent sculptor, whose works have done so much to 
form the English school of design. Flaxman was born 
in 1755, in York, from whence he was removed in his 
infancy to London, where his father, who was a moulder 
?f figures, subsequently kept a shop in the Strand for 
the sale of plaster casts. The fathers occupation, no 
doubt, contributed to call forth the genius of the son ; but 
the boy very early began to give evidence of fondness for 
arts to which his future life was devoted, and of 



singular taste and skill in the efforts of his un instructed 
pencil, tike many more of the most distinguished cul- 
tivators of literature and art, he was prevented by the 
weakness and delicate health of his early years from 
mixing in the ruder sports of boys of his own age ; and 
this, of course, gave him more time for solitary study. 
His father was not able to afford him the advantages of 
a regular education ; but he rapidly acquired a great deal 
of knowledge by his own unaided efforts. When he was 
fifteen he was admitted a student in the Royal Acadern)'. 
Here he was successful in a competition for the inferior 
honour of the silver medal; but on the contest for the 
gold one, Sir Joshua Reynolds, the President, awarded 
the prize to another. This was, perhaps, upon the whole, 
not an unfortunate incident for Flaxman, though he 
severely felt what he thought an injustice. His rival, 
notwithstanding his good fortune on this occasion, never 
rose to any distinction ; but Flaxman, with the heroism 
of true genius, resolved to obliterate this defeat of his 
youth by future triumphs, of the glory of which no such 
decision should be able to rob him. And this resolution 
he nobly fulfilled. His first employment was given him 
by the Messrs. Wedgewood, the productions of whose 
porcelain potteries he embellished with designs that gave 
at once a new character to this branch of British manu- 
factures. In 1782 he married ; and five years afterwards 
proceeded to visit Italy, where he remained till 1794, 
studying the celebrated monuments of the fine arts with 
which that country abounds, and at the same time ex- 
erting his own pencil in the production of works which 
soon spread his fame over Europe. Having then re- 
turned to England, he was in 1797 elected an Asso- 
ciate, and in 1800 a Member, of the Royal Academy. 
*Afler this he executed many great works in marble; 
and, as a lecturer, afforded some valuable contributions 
to the literature of his profession. Fpf many years before 
his death his name ranked with the highest of the living 
artists of England But we must refer the reader for an 
account of his performances to Mr. Allan Cunningham's 
interesting life of him, lately published, or to the abstract 
of that memoir in the second number of the Gallery of 
Portraits. He died at his house in Buckingham- street, 
on the 7t^ of pecembe?, 1826, in the seventy -second 
year of his age. 

IMPROVEMENT IN SOCIAL CONDITION. 
Th5 history of the United States of North America is, 
in some respects, one of the most instructive that we 
can turn to ; because we are accurately acquainted with 
the origin of this social community, and are also enabled 
to trace its history in all it§ important facts, from the 
first establishment of the several colonies up to the 
present condition of the Union. Of all historical re- 
cords none can be put in comparison with legislative 
enactments, as showing the condition of the people at 
any given period, and the degree of mental culture 
diffused among them. In the American States, even 
under their former colonial government, there were few 
men of any importance in the provinces who did not 
participate iu some of the functions of government ; and 
we may therefore consider the laws enacted at that 
period as indicative of the opinions held by the most 
influential classes. 

We happen to have before us an old collection oi 
Virginia laws, entitled, * A complete collection of the 
(»aws of Virginia, at a Grand Assembly held at James 
City, 23d March, 1662 ;' a few extracts from which may 
not be uninteresting. 

There appears to be in this volume only one law 
about education, which prescribes the founding of a 
college u for the advance of learning, education of 
youtfy, supply of the ministry, and promotion of piety." 
The law stages how the money is to be raised ; but as to 
its application nothing more is said, except that a piece 



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of land is to be got, and, " with as much speed as may 
be convenient, housing is to be erected thereon for enter- 
tainment of students and scholars." The housing depart- 
ment seems to have been the uppermost thing in the 
legislature's thoughts ; the providing of good teachers 
was a secondary consideration. 

There are several enactments about " rewards for 
killing- wolves*" which at that time infested even the 
lower parts of Virginia. At the present day, owing to 
the increase of population, the wolf and other wild 
animals, though occasionally heard of, are but rarely 
seen even in the mountains, and seldom do any damage. 
The reward " tor every wolf destroyed by pit, trap; or 
otherwise, is 200 pounds of tobacco." 

Tobacco was the most common standard of Value ih 
Virginia at that time, as we see from this and numerous 
other instances, where fines, &c. are estimated at so 
many pounds of tobacco. Thus it is stated in enactment 
&>, that " the court shall not take cognizance of any 
cause under the value of 200 pounds of tobacco, or 
twenty shillings sterling, which a private justice may 
and is hereby authorized and empowered to hear and 
determine." 

The following recipe for good order is contained in 
an enactment, entitled * Pillories to be erected at each 
Court:* — "In every county the court shall cause to be. 
set up a pillory, a pair of stocks, and a whipping-post 
near the court-house, and a ducking-stool ; — and the 
court not causing the said pillory, whipping-post, stocks, 
and ducking-stool to be erected, shall be fined 5000 
pounds of tobacco to the use of the public." 

Jn those days the following provision was made for; 
extending the elective franchise, which appears founded 
on a rational principle : " Every county that will lay out 
1U0 acres of land, and people it with 100 tytheable (tax- 
able) persons, that place shall enjoy the like privilege" 
of sending a burgess. The burgesses, together with their 
attendants, were free from arrest, from the time of elec- 
tion till ten days after dissolution of the assembly ; this 
privilege, however, was somewhat modified by Several 
clauses. Every burgess was allowed during the sitting 
of the assembly " 150 lbs. of tobacco and cask per day, 
besides ihe necessary charge of going to the assembly 
and returning." This practice of paying legislators* 
which, in America, originated under the Colonial system, 
is still continued in the United States. It did not en- 
tirely cease in England until the reign of Charles II. 
Andrew Marvel 1, one of the burgesses of Hull, was the 
last member of the House of Commons who appears to* 
have accepted the wages which all were entitled tb 
receive. 

Among commercial restrictions we find an enactment 
prohibiting the planting of tobacco after the 10th of July § 
which was done for " the improvement of bur only com- 
modity tobacco, which can no ways be effected but by 
lessening the quantity and amending the quality/' That 
the former effect mighUjossibly be produced by the en- 
actment, without secuipj£ : fhe latter, seems pretty cer- 
tain. Another object that the government had ifi vleW 
was to compel the people to become silk-growers against 
their will. " Be it therefore enacted," says the legislature, 
" that every proprietor of land within the colony of Vir- 
ginia shall, for every hundred acres of land holden in 
tee, plant upon the said land ten mulberry-trees at twelve 
foot distance from each pther, and secure them by weed- 
ing and a sufficient fence from cattle and horses." To- 
bacco fines, as usual, were enacted in -case the planting 
and weeding were not duly performed ; and further, 
" there shall be allowed in the public levy to any one for 
every pound of wound silk he shall make, fifty pounds 
l of tobacco, to be raised in the public levy, and paid in 
P the county or counties where they dwell that make it.'* 
This act was passed in 1662, and probably continued 
t in force for a long time ; but Virginia did not therefore 



become a silk-growing country, nor has it yet, though 
many parts are well adapted to raise this commodity. 
People, we presume, have hitherto found other things 
more profitable than silk. 

The following enactment ha3 a most barbarous cha- 
racter about it, not unmixed with something extremely 
ludicrous as to the idea of the legislature trying to 
prevent women from talking: "Whereas many babbling 
women slander and scandalize their neighbours, for 
which their poor husbands are often involved in charge- 
able and vexatious suits, and cast in great damages : — 
Be it therefore enacted, that in actions of slander, occa- 
sioned by the wife, after judgment passed for the 
damages, the woman shall be punished by ducking; 
and if the slander be so enormous as to be adjudged at 
greater damages than 500 pounds of tobacco, then the 
woman to suffer a ducking for each 500 pounds of 
tobacco adjudged against the husband, if he refuse to 
pay the tobacco." 

This old statute book of Virginia is full of enactments 
such as we have quoted ; some exceedingly mischievous, 
and others very ludicrous. It would, however, be unfair 
to say that there are not also some good regulations in 
it. Were a history of our own or any other country tn 
be written, founded on the legislative enactments and 
illustrated, whenever it was possible, by individual cases * 
on record, we should then begin to have some idea of 
what history is. Instead of the splendours or the follies 
of a tew who occupy the attention of the historian, we 
should be able to form a more complete picture of the 
condition of the whole community, and a more exact 
estimate of the progress which has been made in social 
knowledge. 

THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. 

On the 29th of August, 1782, it was fdund necessary 
that the Royal George, a line-of-battle ship of 1 08 guns, 
which had lately arrived at Spithead from a cruise, 
should, previously to her going again to sea, undergo 
the operation which seamen technically call ^Parliament 
heel. In such cases the ship is inclined in a certain 
degree on one side, while the defects below the water- 
mark on the other side are examined and repaired. This 
mode of proceeding is, we believe, at the present day, 
very commonly adopted where the defects to be repaired 
are not extensive, or where (as was the case with the 
Royal George) it is desirable to avoid the aelay of going 
into dock. The operation is usually performed in still 
weather and smooth water, and is attended with so little 
difficulty and danger, that the officers and crew usually 
remain on board, and neither the guns nor stores are 
removed. 

The business was commenced on the Royal George 
early in the morning, a gang of men from the Ports- 
mouth Dock-yard coming on board to assist the ship's 
carpenters, j. It is said that, ^finding it necessary to strip 
off* more of the sheathing than had been intended, the 
men in their eagerness to reach the defect in the snip's 
bottom, were induced to heel her too much, when a sud 
den squall of wind threw her wholly on her side ; and 
the gun-ports being open, and the cannon rolling over 
to the depressed side, the ship was unable to right her- 
self, instantaneously filled with water, and went to the 
bottom. 

The fatal accident happened about ten o'clock in the 
rnorrtihg ; Admiral Kempenfeldt was writing in his 
cabin, and the greater part of the people were between 
decks. The ship, as is usually the case upon coming 
into port, was crowded with people from the shore, par- 
ticularly women, of whom it is supposed there were not 
less than three hundred on board. Amongst the suf- 
ferers were many of the wives and children of the petty 
Officers and seamen, who, knowing the ship was shortly 
to Sail on a distant and perilous service, eagerly em 



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[June SO, 18S2. 



braced the opportunity of visiting their husbands and 

fathers. a i, c 

The Admiral, with many brave officers and most oi 
those who were between decks, perished ; the greater 
number of the guard, and those who happened to be on 
the upper deck, were saved by the boats oflhe fleet. 
About seventy others were likewise saved. The exact 
number of persons on board at the time could not be 
ascertained ; but it was calculated that from 800 to 1000 
were lost. Captain Waghorne, whose gallantry in the 
North Sea battle, under Admiral Parker, had procured 
him the command of this ship, was saved, though he was 
severely bruised and battered ; but his son, a lieutenant 
in the Royal George, perished. Such was the force of 
the whirlpool, occasioned by the sudden plunge of so 
vast a body in the water, that a victualler which lay 
aiongside the Royal George was swamped ; and several 
small craft, at a considerable distance, were in imminent 

danger. - ' ~* * 

Admiral Kempenfeldt, who was nearly 70 years of age, 
was peculiarly and universally lamented. In point of 
general science and judgment, he was one of the first 
naval officers of his time ; and, particularly in the art of 
manoeuvring a fleet, he was considered by the com- 
manders of that day as unrivalled. His excellent quali- 
ties, as a man, are said to have equalled his professional 

This melancholy occurrence has been recorded by the 
poet, Cowper, in the following beautiful lines : — 
Toll for the brave ! 

The brave, that are no more ! 
All sunk beneath the wave, 

Fast by their native shore. 
Eight hundred of the brave, 

Whose courage well was tried. 
Had made the vessel heel, 

And laid her on her side. 
A land-breeze shook the shrouds. 

And she was overset ; 
Down went the Royal George, 

With all her crew complete. 
Toll for the brave ! 

Brave Kempenfeldt is gone; 
-His last sea-fight is fought; 

His work of glory done. 
It was not in the battle ; 

No tempest gave the shock ; 
She sprang no fatal leak ; 

She ran upon no rock. 
His sword was in its sheath ; 

His fingers held the pen, 
When Kempenfeldt went down. 

With twice four hundred 



Tremendous Earthquakes.— Earthquakes have caused 
many melancholy changes in Calabria; and every thing 
bears testimony to the cruel ravages occasioned by that of 
1783. This frightful catastrophe, which has altered the 
aspect of these countries in an inconceivable manner, was 
preceded by the most appalling indications. Close, compact, 
and immoveable mists seemed to hang heavily over the earth: 
in some places the atmosphere appeared red-hot, so that peo- 
ple expected it would every moment burst out into flames: 



Age of Sheep. — The age of a sheep may be known by 
examining the front teeth. They are eight in number, and 
appear during the first year, all of a small size. In the 
second year, the two middle ones fall out, and their place is 
supplied by two new teeth, which are easily distinguished by 
being of a larger size. In the third year two other small 
teeth, one from each side, drop out and are replaced by two 
large ones : so that there are now four large teeth in the 
middle, and two pointed ones on each side. In the fourth 
year the large teeth are six in number, and only two small 
ones remain, one at each end of the range. In the fifth 
year the remaining small teeth are lost, and the whole front 
teeth are large. In the sixth year the whole begin to be 
worn, and in the seventh, sometimes sooner, some fall out or 
are broken. 

*** From 'the Mountain Shepherd's Manual,' a useful little track 
on the nature, diseases, and management of sheep, being No. 24 of 
tlu> ' Farmer's Series,' published under the Superintendence of the 
Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 



Weigh the vessel up, 

Once dreaded by our foes 1 
And mingle with our cup 

The tear that England owes. 
Her timbers yet are sound, 

And she may float again, 
Full charg'd with England's thundw, 

And plough the distant main. 
But Kempenfeldt is gone, 

His victories are o'er j 
And he, and his eight hundred, 

Shall plough the wave no more. 

Strange Mode of curing a vicious Horse. — I have seen 
vicious horses in Egypt cured of the habit of biting, by pre- 
senting to them, while in the act of doing so, a leg of mutton 
jmst taken from the fire . the pain which a horse feels in 
biting through the hot meat, causes it, after a few lessons, to 
abandon the vicious habit. — Burckhardt. 

The Bedouins never allow a horse, at the moment of his 
birth, to fall upon the ground : they receive it in their arms, 
and so cherish it for several hours, occupied in washing and 
stretching its tender limbs, and caressing it as they would a 
baby. After this they place it on the ground, and watch its 
feeble steps with particular attention, prognosticating from 
that time the excellences or defects of their future com- 
pinion.— Burckhardt. 



Anecdote of the late Honourable Henry Cavendish.— One 
Sunday evening he was standing at Sir Joseph Banks's, in 
a crowded room, conversing with Mr. Hatchett, when Dr. 
Ingenhonsz, who had a good deal of pomposity of manner, 
came up with an Austrian gentleman in his hand, and intro- 
duced him formally to Mr. Cavendish. He mentioned the 
titles and qualifications of his friend at great length, and said 
that he had been peculiarly anxious to be introduced to a 
philosopher so profound and so universally known and cele- 
brated as Mr. Cavendish. As soon as Dr. Ingenhousz had 
finished, the Austrian gentleman began, and assured Mr. 
Cavendish, that his principal reason for coming to London 
was to see and converse with one of the greatest ornaments 
of the age, and one of the most illustrious philosophers that 
ever existed. To all these high-flown speeches Mr. Caven- 
dish answered not a word ; but stood with his eyes cast down, 
quite abashed and confounded-' Alast, seeing an opening 
in the crowd, he darted through i^with all the speed he was 
master of ; nor did he stop till he reached his carriage, w v hicb 
drove him directly home. 



*• The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge i« ** 
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 

LONDON :-CHARLKS KNIOHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the fvllovi*! 
Booksellers:— , 



London, Groombkidqe, Panyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Bath, Simms. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Wksti.kv and Co. 
Carlisle* Th u r n a m ; and Scott. 
Derby, Wu.kins and Son. 
Falmouth, Piulp. 
Hull, Stephenson. 
Leed*, Baines and NrwsoME. 
Linceln, Brooke and Sons. 



Liverpool, Wilt.mer and Smith. 
Manchester, Robinson; aud Webs »# 

Simms. 
Neweastl+vpm-Tyne, Charsoet. 
Norwich, Jarrold and Son. 
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Sheffield, Rimse. 
Dublin, Wakeman. 
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pltmtnt of 

MAGAZINE 



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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

. May 31 to June 30, 1832. 



THE ABBEY OF ST. ALBANS. 



On 

upp 

of i 

at i 
frag 
hab 
rese 
mas 
larg 
timl 

£™ 
yeai 

required to repair the damage, and to save this venerable 
fabric from further injury. 

A .public subscription has been opened for this 
laudable object; and when we consider the interest 
which the people of this country so properly attach to 
the monuments of our early civilization, we cannot 
doubt that the Abbey of St. Alban's will be rescued, for 
several more generations, from the devouring grasp of 
time. 

St. Alban's is, in many respects, one of the towns of 
England most dignified by historical associations. It 
was one of the principal places of the ancient Britons 
before the Roman conquest; and, within twenty-one 
years after the invasion of the island, was raised, by the 
Romans, to the rank of a city, under the name of 
Verulam. Many considerable fragments of the Roman 
Verulam still exist, at a short distance from the present 
town, particularly a large piece of a wall, constructed of 
Roman tile, now called Gorhambury Block. Dr. 
Stukery, a celebrated antiquarian writer, has calculated 
that about a hundred acres were included within the 
Roman wall. The greater part of the city, first built 
by the Romans, was demolished by the Britons, under 
Queen Boadicea, in the 61st year after the birth of 
Christ; but it was soon rebuilt, and the inhabitants 
continued under the protection of the Romans for a 
long period. In the persecution of the Christians, 
under the Roman emperor Dioclesian, in the year 
804, Alban, a native of Verulam, who had been a 
soldier at Rome, suffered martyrdom for his faith ; and 
being the first Briton who had been put to death for his 
-eligious opinions, he is called England's proto-martyr, 

Vol. I. 



urtyr 



cient 
was 
shed 
»cted 
in a 
j, in 
uries 
lues, 
)*.— 

Of this immense establishment, nothing is left but the 
present conventual church, a gate-house, and a few 
scattered walls. The church, which was principally 
erected in the reign of William Rufus, is* in magnitude 
equal to our largest cathedrals. It measures 550 feet 
from east to west; if we include a chapel at one end, 
606 feet. The extreme breadth, at the intersection of 
the transepts, is 217 feet. The exterior of this great pile 
is not very beautiful ; but the spectator is struck with 
its vastness, its simplicity, and its appearance of extreme 
age. A large part of the original edifice is composed of 
materials taken from the ruins of the ancient Verulam, 
consisting chiefly of Roman tile. These portions of the 
interior are very rude, and form a striking contrast to 
other parts which were finished after the elegant Norman 
style was adopted in this country. In this manner it 
occurs that we see at St Alban's a mixture of the round 
and the pointed arch, in two sides of the same building, 
directly opposite each other. It is singular that as one 
side of the building fell into decay, the later style of 
architecture, that of the pointed arch, should have been 
used ; while the more ancient round arch was suffered to 
remain on the opposite side. This want of uniformity 
greatly diminishes the beauty of the interior; but still 
many of its effects are remarkably striking, particularly 
that of the vast length of the church from east to west - 
Some parts of the edifice furnish, also, beautiful and 
perfect specimens of the most delicate workmanship. 

The Abbey-Church of St Alban's contains the monu- 
ments of several illustrious men, particularly that of Duke 
Humphrey of Gloucester, the brother of Henry V. But 
St. Alban's possesses the -much higher distinction of 

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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OP 



[June 30 



being tha burial-place, as it was the abode, of the great 
Lord Bacon. The eld Church of St Michael, in this 
town, contains the remains of the immortal founder of 
the inductive philosophy, which delivered the human 
mind from the tyranny of opinions established by pre- 
scription and authority, and led the way for every man 
to think for himself, and to rely upon the truths of estab- 
lished facts alone as the materials for his conclusions. 
The following is a representation of Lord Bacon's 
monument. 



MACHINERY AND MANUFACTURES. 

[* The Ecopomy of Machinery and Manufactures. By Charles 
Babbage, Esq., A.M., Lucasian Professor of Mathematics in the 
University of Cambridge.' 8vo. London, C. Knight, 1832.] 

Here is a work of no common interest. Its object, as 
stated by the author in his introductory paragraph, is 
" to point out the effects and the advantages which arise 
from the use /of tools and machines ; — to endeavour to 
classify their modes of action ; — and to trace both the 
causes and the consequences of applying machinery to 
supersede the skill and power of the human arm." It 
professes to embrace, therefore, both a very important 
branch of the science of political economy, and the whole 
domain of the mechanical arts. 

The word manufacture^ which means fabrication by 
the hand, has become singularly inapplicable to the 
thing which it is used to denote. The human hand now 
performs but a comparatively small part in most of those 
processes to which the name of manufactures is given ; 
and in some of the most stupendous and wonderful of 
them its aid is hardly at all employed. Where the steam- 
engine plies its mighty energies, man has in many cases 
little more to do than to look on. If the expression, a 
manufacturing country, were to be taken in its literal 
sense, as meaning a country where articles were ge- 
nerally made by the hand, it would be much more 
truly applicable to Spain, or Russia, or Poland, or Hin- 
dostan, or indeed to any other country of the earth, than 
to. ours. We are, of all others, the people who do least 
by the hand. 

When we say, therefore, that England is a manu- 
facturing country and that Poland is not, we mean 
merely that great numbers of articles of use and 
of luxury are fabricated in the former country, without 



any necessary reference to the mode in which they are 
fabricated. But it so happens that such articles cannot 
be fabricated in great abundance except by means of 
machinery ; and therefor* ve often use the term manu- 
facturing as nearly synonymous with mechanical, or at 
least as implying the extensive agency of machinery. 
It should be borne in mind, however, that agriculture is 
also a manufacture ; and that whether a country pro- 
duces iron or corn, each branch of industry involves 
mechanical aid, .however we may choose to distinguish 
between a manufacturing and an agricultural coun* ry. 

The book upon the subject of manufactures which 
Mr. Babbage has now given to the world, consists chiefly 
of a very large and multifarious collection of the mecha- 
nical expedients employed in the different branches of 
our national industry, arranged according to the general 
principle, of which each is an exemplification. The 
author has in this way furnished a work which is not 
less interesting to the mere general reader than it is 
likely to prove valuable to the student of mechanics. 
Surrounded as we are in this o untry by the wonders of 
mechanical invention, he among us must be singularly 
destitute of enlightened curiosity who feels no desire to 
understand the operation of those beautiful and most 
effective contrivances which he everywhere sees or hears 
in motion ; or to trace through the various stages of their 
fabrication those numberless articles of use and of orna- 
ment of which every one of our shops, and it may 
almost be said of our houses, is full. The history of 
some of the most apparently trivial or insignificant of 
these productions, of a pin or a needle for instance, is 
often a rich succession of the most exquisite efforts of 
ingenuity — of the most important results obtained by 
the simplest means, and of a velocity and at the same 
time perfection of operation which to the unaccustomed 
observer would seem little short of miraculous. The 
wonders of our manufactures are not less deserving of 
oi*: examination, because they are performed- in the very 
midst of us, and may be made perfectly intelligible to al. 
who care to understand them. 

But it is to those who are actually engaged in mecha- 
nical invention that this volume is doubtless fitted to 
render the most important service. Let the particular 
department upon which a person so employed is exer- 
cising his thoughts be what it may, his success is likely 
to depend in no small degree upon his general famili- 
arity with mechanical contrivances. It has not unfre- 
quently happened that for want of this diversified know- 
ledge the inventors and improvers of machines or of 
processes have devoted their solitary efforts for a long time 
in vain, in attempting merely to accomplish what had al- 
ready been completely achieved in some other department 
of mechanical skill with which they happened to have no 
acquaintance. In other cases, a contrivance applicable 
to many different branches, although introduced in one 
of the number, has remained unknown to the cultivators 
of all the others for many years. Thus, for example, 
the valuable contrivance of the fly-shuttle, although in- 
troduced into the woollen manufactory about the year 
1738, was not employed in the* weaving of cottons, 
where it was equally applicable, till more than twenty 
years afterwards. So also, as Mr. Babbage notices, 
the expedient of placing the workman employed in 
beating out the blades of scythes in a seat suspended 
by ropes from the ceiling, to give him sufficient freedom 
and rapidity of motion to bring the different parts of 
the iron upon the anvil in quick succession, although 
introduced in the manufacture of scythes long ago, has 
only been recently applied to that of anchors ; " an art 
in which," as he remarks, " the contrivance is of still 
greater importance." Now such a work as the one 
before us is admirably calculated to prevent all this 
waste of inventive labour, and to ensure the communi- 
cation of any new or valuable contrivance to all de- 



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scriptions of manufactures in which it is fitted to be 
available. An inventor, who has made himself com- 
pletely master of this work/ will have obtained a know- 
ledge both of all the principal expedients which have 
hitherto been employed in mechanics, and of the scien- 
tific principles upon which all mechanical devices must 
depend ; and a man so instructed, it may be fairly in- 
terred, will be likely not only to waste but little time in 
re-discovering what has been already ound out, but also 
to find his efforts in original invention crowned with far 
more rapid and more satisfying success than would have 
otherwise attended them. 

From the multiplicity of most interesting subjects of 
which Mr. Babbage has treated, the mere enumeration 
of which would far exceed our limits, we select only two 
specimens of the entertainment to be found in the work. 
The following account of a foreign manufacture would 
appear incredible, if we did not know to what singular 
uses the instincts of animals may be directed : — 
' " Lace, made by Caterpillars. — A most extraordinary spe- 
cies of manufacture, which is in a slight degree connected 
with copying, has been contrived by an officer of engineers 
residing at Munich. It consists of lace and veils, with open 
patterns in them, made entirely by caterpillars. The follow- 
ing is the mode of proceeding adopted : — Having made a 
paste of the leaves of the plant, on which the species of cater- 
pillar he employs feeds, he spreads it thinly over a stone, 
or other flat substance, of the required size. He then, with 
a carael-hair pencil dipped in olive oil, draws the pattern he 
wishes the insects to leave open. This stone is then placed 
in an inclined position, and a considerable number of the 
caterpillars are placed at the bottom. A peculiar species is 
chosen, which spins a strong web ; and the animals com- 
mence at the bottom, eating and spinning their way up to 
the top, carefully avoiding every part touched by the oil, 
but devouring every other part of the paste. The extreme 
lightness of these veils, combined with some strength, is 
truly surprising. One of them, measuring twenty-six and 
a half inches by seventeen inches, weighed only 1.51 grains, 
a degree of lightness which will appear more strongly by 
contrast with other fabrics. One square yard of the sub- 
stance of which these veQs are made weighs four grains and 
one-third, whilst one square yard of silk gauze weighs one 
hundred and thirty-sefeh grains, and one square yard of the 
finest patent net weigfis two hundred and sixty-two grains 
and a half." 

One of the most important manufactures of our own 
country is that connected with the Press, in all its various 
and complicated operations. The following account of 
the mode in which a great London newspaper is pre- 
pared, will be read with interest in all parU of the king- 
dom :— 

'* Another instance of the just application of machinery, 
even at an increased expense, arises where the shortness of 
time in which the article can be produced, has an important 
influence on its value. In the publication of our daily news- 
papers, it frequently happens that the debates in the Houses 
of Parliament are carried on to three and four o'clock in the 
morning, that is, to within a very few hours of the time for 
the publication of the newspaper. The speeches must be 
taken down by reporters, conveyed by them to the establish- 
ment of the newspaper, perhaps at the distance of one or two 
miles, transcribed by them in the office, set up by the com- 
positor, the press corrected, and the papers printed off and 
distributed before the public can read them. Some of these 
journals have a circulation of from five to ten thousand 
daily. Supposing four thousand to be wanted, and that 
they could be printed only at the rate of five hundred per 
hour upon one side of the paper (which was the greatest 
number two journeymen and a boy could take off by the 
old hand-presses), sixteen hours would be required for print- 
ing the complete edition ; and the news conveyed to the 
purchasers of the latest portion of the impression, would be 
out of date before they could receive it To obviate this 
difficulty, it was often necessary to set up the paper in dupli- 
cate, and sometimes, when late, in triplicate : but the im- 
provements in the printing-machines have been so great, 
that four thousand copies are now printed on one side In an 
hour. 

"The establishment of 'The Times' newspaper is an ex- 



ample, on a large scale, of a manufactory in which the di- 
vision of labour, both mental and bodily, is admirably illus- 
trated, and in which also the effect of tne domestic economy 
is well exemplified. It is scarcely imagined, by the thou- 
sands who read that paper in various quarters of the globe, 
what a scene of organized activity the factory presents 
during the whole night, or what a quantity oft talent and 
mechanical skill is put in action for the'r amusement and 
information *. Nearly a hundred persons are employed in 
this establishment; and, during the session of parliament, at 
least twelve reporters are constantly attending the Housea 
of Commons and Lords ; each in his turn, after about an 
hours work, retiring to translate into ordinary writing, the 
speech he has just heard and noted in short-hand. In the 
mean time fifty compositors are constantly at work, some 
of whom have already set up the beginning, whilst others 
are committing to type the yet undried manustflpt of the 
continuation of a speech, whose middle portion is travelling 
to the office in the pocket of the hasty reporter, and whose 
eloquent conelus.on is, perhaps, at that very moment, making 
the walls of St. Stephen's vibrate with the applause of its 
hearers. These congregated types, as fast as tney are com- 
posed, are passed in portions to other hands ;,till at last the 
sen tiered fragments of the debate, forming, when united 
with the ordinary matter, eieht-and-forty coJiudbs, re-appear 
in regular order on the platform of the printing-press. The 
hand of man is now too slow for the demands of his curiosity, 
but the power of steam comes to his assistance. Ink is 
rapidly supplied to the moving types by the most perfect 
mechanism : — four attendants incessantly introduce the 
edges of large sheets of white paper to the junction of two 
great rollers, which seem to devour them with unsated appe- 
tite ;— other rollers convey them to the type already inked, 
and having brought them into sapid and successive contact, 
re-deliver them to four other assistants, completely printed 
by the almost momentary touch. Thus, in one hour, four 
thousand sheets of paper are printed on one side ; and an 
impression of twelve thousand copies, from above three Iran* 
dred thousand moveable pieces of metal, is produced for the 
public in six hours." 

ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY. 
The last Monthly Report of the proceed ingi of the Com 
mittee of Science of the Zoological Society, contains 
several facts of general interest 

The female Puma, in the Society's Gardens, brought 
forth two young ones on the 2d of April. The ground- 
colour of these is of a paler fawn than that of either 
of the parents, and they are deeply spotted. The 
eyelids of one of them were partially unclosed on 
April 9. The mother, whose temper was always mild* 
has since become remarkably gentle, purring when 
the keeper goes into Tier den, and allowing her young 
ones to be handled and carried about without appearing 

* u The Author of these pages, with one ©1 his friends, was recently 
induced to visit this most interesting establishment, after midnight, 
during the progress of a very important debate. The place was illu- 
minated with gas, and was light as the day: — then was neither 
noise nor bustle ; — and the visitors were received with such calm and 
polite attention, that they did not, until afterwards, become sensible 
of the inconvenience which such intruders, at a moment of the 
greatest pressure, must occasion, nor reflect that the tranquillity which 
they admired, was the result of intense and regulated occupation. 
But the effect of such checks in the current of business will appear 
on recollecting that, as four thousand newspapers are printed off on 
one side within the hour, every minute is attended with a loss of sixty- 
six impressions. The quarter of an hour, therefore, which the stranger 
may think it not unreasonable to claim for the gratification of his 
curiosity (and to him this time is but a moment), may cause a failure 
in the delivery of one thousand copies^ud disappoint a proportionate 
number of expectant readers, in some of our distant towns, to which 
the morning capers are despatched by the earliest and most rapid 
conveyances of each day. 

"This note is inserted with the further and more general purpose 
of calling the attention of those, especially foreigners, who are de- 
sirous of inspecting our larger manufactories to the chief cause of 
the difficulty which frequently attends their introduction. When the 
establishment is very extensive, and its departments skilfully ar- 
ranged, the exclusion of visitors arises, not from any illiberal jealousy, 
nor, generally, from any desire of concealmentwhuh would, in most 
cases, be absurd ; but from the substantial J^Hrenience and loss 
of time, throughout an entire series of well^ffiibined operations, 
which must be occasioned even by short and casual interruptions.' 

S2 



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to be annoyed by such treatment The young, on the con- 
trary, were, when first born, extremely fierce, hissing and 
scratching with all their might ; they have, however, since 
become better tempered, though they are still spiteful. 
The manners of both the mother and the young are similar 
to those of the domestic cat and her kittens, the former 
carrying the latter about from place to place in her 
mouth. For a day or two previously to her littering she 
pulled the straw in her inner den into pieces and thus 
formed a nest. 

Some curious experiments have been made as to the 
mode of feeding quadrupeds of prey, which is best 
adapted to bringing them into good condition, and which 
may therefore be considered the most suited to their 
natural habits. On January 11 two leopards were 
weighed. No. 1. weighed 91 lbs. : it was fed in the 
usual manner with 4 lbs. of beef daily in one meal 
given in the evening. No. 2. weighed 100 J lbs. : it 
was supplied with 2 lbs. of beef at eight o'clock in the 
morning, and with a like quantity at the same hour in 
the evening daily. On Feb. 16 (after an interval of 
five weeks) they were again weighed. No. 1. had gained 
in weight 1 lb. : No. 2. had diminished in weight £ lb. 
No alteration was observed in the latter animal as re- 
garded his daily exercise; but he became more ferocious 
than he had previously been, and was particularly violent 



tinuance of the LtLoiiblomed mode of feeding the purely 
carnivorous animals with one meal daily. 

The same results were produced by the same experi- 
ments upon two of a species less completely carnivorous 
— the Paradoamre gennet. It may be inferred from the 
circumstance, that quadrupeds of prey thrive best with 
long intervals between their meals, and that the difficulty 
which such animals experience in obtaining food is coun- 
terbalanced by their requiring it not so frequently as 
animals who feed jn vegetables. 

STATUE OF WILLIAM PUT. 



[The Puma.] 

On December 23 two hyaenas were weighed. No. 1 
weighed 86 lbs. : it was fed as usual with 3 lba of beef 
daily at one meal in the evening. No. 2. weighed 93 lbs. : 
it was supplied with the same quantity of beef daily, 
divided into two equal portions, one of which was given 
in the morning and the other in the evening. On 
February 16 (after an interval of eight weeks) they were 
again weighed ; and No. 1. was found to have increased 
in weight lib., while No. 2. had diminished in weight lib. 
The latter animal was observed to take less exercise than 
he had previously been accustomed to, and slept more 
than usual : his temper was not affected, and he did not 
exhibit unusual signs of hunger. 

During the continuance of the experiment all the ani- 
mals were fasted one day in each week in common with 
the other carnivorous species kept in the menagerie. 

From these experiments it appears that carnivorous 
mammalia fed with two meals daily, do not continue 
in equally good condition with those which have the 
same quantity of flesh daily in one meal only. It fur- 
ther appears that in one instance (that of the leopard) 
the temper changed for the worse, and thus animals of 
the genus felis might become more dangerous in a 
menagerie from the ferocity they would acquire under 
•uch treatment ; and that in another instance the habits 
were altered unregarded exercise, a diminution of which, 
in confined anlhals, must be injurious to health. The 
inference deduced is consequently in favour of the con- 



A colossal statue of bronze, of which the above is a 
representation, was erected in Hanover-square, at the end 
of last year, to the memory of William Pitt. The orator 
is represented in the act of speaking. This statue, which 
in many respects is the finest in London, is the work 
of Mr. Cbantrey. 

GLEANINGS IN NATURAL HISTORY. 

We have occasionally selected a paragraph from a very 
pretty volume, by Mr. Jesse, published under the above 
title. The author lives in the neighbourhood of Kew ; 
and, like Mr. White of Selborne, who made a small vil- 
lage in Hampshire one of the most interesting spots to 
the lover of nature, by his ample descriptions of the 
natural objects which he saw around him, Mr. Jesse has 
rendered his walks a vehicle for much instruction and 
amusement to himself and to others. He principally 
confines his attention to zoology — the most generally 
attractive of the departments of natural history; and he 
looks upon the animal world with so much practical 
wisdom, being disposed to be happy himself and to see 
every creature around him happy, that there are few 
persons who will not read his slight sketcfies with iin 
provement to tbeir hearts and understandings. 



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20,000. • The weekly value of these mines is estimated at 
100,000 dollars, or more than one million sterling annually. 
But a imall part of the gold is sent to the United States* 
Mint By far the larger part is sent to Europe, particularly 
to Paris. , 

44 Of the working miners the greater number are foreign- 
ers — Germans, Swiss, Swedes, Spaniards, English, Welsh, 
Scotch, &c. There are no less than thirteen different lan- 
guages spoken at the mines in this State*! And men 
are Hocking to the mines from all parts, and find ready 
employment. Hundreds of landowners and renters work 
the mines on their grounds on a small scale, not being able 
to encounter the expense of mucji machinery. The state of 
morals among the miners or labourers is represented to be 
deplorablv bad. This may be attributed to the absence of 
*uj & i eta* organization as yet for the police and regulation 
of the mines, combined with the usual effects of gold upon the 
uneducated and needy classes of men (often not the most 
favourable specimens of their various nations) who gene- 
tally seek employment in the gold districts. The village of 
Charlotte, in Mecklenburg County, is in the immediate 
vicinity of several of the largest mines. It is increasing 
rapidly. N 

" Olie interesting fact deserves mention . — When speaking 
of the gold mines, there are indubitable evidences that these 
mines were known and worked by the aboriginal inhabi- 
tants, or some other people, at a remote period. Many 
pieces of machinery which were used for this purpose have 
been found. Among them are several crucibles of earthen- 
ware, and far better than those now in use. Messrs. Bis 
■els had tried three of them, and found that they lasted 
twice or three times as long as even the Hessian crucibles, 
which are the best now made. It is to be regretted that 
some antiquary has not had an opportunity of at leart 
examining these curious relics ; and it is hoped that thfy 
will be preserved in future, notwithstanding the temptation 
offered by their superior qualities. 

u These gold mines prove that the whole region in whkth 
they abound was once under the powerful agion of 6 re. 
And it is a fact, not generally known, that the miners who 
have come from the mines in South America and in Europe 
pronounce this region to be more abundant in gold than *ny 
other that has been found on the globe. There is no telling 
the extent of these mines ; but sufficient is known to prove 
they are of vast extent." — pp. 151-153. 

THE CALABRIAS. 

[Cakbria; during a Military Residence of Three Years, &c. 
In a Series of Letters, by a General Officer of the French Army, 
from the original MS. London, Effingham Wilson, 1832.1 

The Calabrias, which are divided into two provinces, 
citra and ultra, occupy the extremity of the South of 
Italy, forming a peninsula one hundred and seventy 
miles in length, and varying in breadth from seventy 
to thirty-five miles. The beautiful Mediterranean sea 
flows round this peninsula, and a chain of the Apennines 
intersects it The summit of these mountains is a vast 
platform called La Syla, which is admirable for pasture, 
and well provided with farm-houses and villages. The 
plains washed by the sea would be everywhere most 
fertile, but they have been neglected, and permitted to 
become swamped and pestilentially unhealthy in many 
places. 

A little work has just been published, which coutains 
some instructive and amusing information with regard 
to this part of Italy. This work is the translation of a 
French volume, entitled * Lettres sur les Calabres, par 
un Officier Francais/ which was published at Paris 
some twelve or thirteen years since. What the Author 
may have become we know not, but when he wrote his 
Letters he was nothing more than a subaltern ; — a clever 
man, as his little book proves, yet still only a lieutenant 
of the line. But the translator, or publisher, appears to 
consider that the high-sounding additions of, " A General 
Officer of the French Army*' and "from the original 
MS." an necessary to the success of the book in its 

* North Carolina. The gold mines commence in Virginia, and 
•tend tooth-wart through North Carolina, part of Sooth Carolina, 
Georgia, and Alabama, and end in Tennessee. The chief mines at 
present are those of Horth Carolina* and Georgia. 



English dress. It is to be regretted that a volume 
which contains much to inform and amuse should be 
introduced to the English reader with the aid of such 
useless quackery; for the work is really valuable in 
itself, and requires no such arts to recommend it 

During his three years' residence, the Author of these 
Letters, which were written on the spot, when the 
scenery and the romantic adventures he was engaged in 
were fresh and full in his mind, traversed the Calabrias 
several times in their whole extent, and in pursuit of par- 
tisans and brigands climbed mountains and penetrated 
into wild glens which for ages had probably never been 
visited except by the native robber or huntsman. He 
saw and described all the great towns, and the sites 
of the ancient cities of Magna Graecia ; and his account 
of the productions and curiosities, manners and customs 
of these provinces, is full and most amusing. We sub- 
join two or three passages, describing the physical cha- 
racter of the country and the manners of its people : — 

" The climate of Calabria i le charac- 

ter and elevation of the soil, f favourable 

to all sorts of produce. In th gainst the 

north wind, there are found and data- 

trees ; while the pine and bii the moun- 

tains. The great variety and [notions of 

Calabria furnish an abundance of all the necessaries of life. 
It has grain of every description ; wines which might be ren- 
dered as good as those of Spain and Languedoc, if the in- 
habitants had more intelligence and industry; and olive oil in 
such profusion, that it is kept in vast cisterns dug in the earth, 
or in the rock. Great -quantities of silkworms (and silk- 
worms of the very best quality) are bred here, which, together 
with the growth of cotton, form a considerable article of com- 
merce. The liquorice root grows without cultivation; and 
in the forests is found a sort of manna, which is in great 
request. Immense droves of horned cattle pass alternately 
from the rich grazing grounds of the Syla to the aromatic 
pasture of the plains, where they remain during the winter. 
Their flocks are as vast as their herds. Their breed of 
horses is hardy, active, extremely swift, full of fire, and 
very numerous. And besides these the Calabrians have the 
excellent mule, so necessary for a mountainous country, and 
vast droves of the formidable buffalo, which they tame and 
employ in labour like an ox. In all parts of Calabria there 
is a great quantity of game of every description. The sea- 
coasts abound with fish : the sword-fish alone supplies food 
to a part of the inhabitants during several months of the 
year, and the tunny forms a lucrative branch of commerce. 
* * * All this ought to produce comfort and opulence, 
but hardly any thing is met with but abject misery t Na- - 
ture has done every thing for the country, but for many 
ages the vices of the government have marred its prospe- 
rity. The condition of the peasantry is most wretched: 
there is a total want of emulation.' The climate and the 
soil do all the work. Productions of every kind are the 
spontaneous gifts of nature without any aid from art and 
industry. With the exception of a few cities, and some 
towns that are regularly built, all the other inhabited places 
present the most miserable and disgusting appearance : the 
whole interior of their houses is a mass of revolting filth : 
the pigs live familiarly with the inmates. * * * * These 
people have no true principle of religion or morals. Like 
all ignorant masses, they are superstitious to excess. The 
most atrocious brigand carries in his bosom relics and 
Images of saints, which he invokes at the very moment he is 
committing the greatest enormities. - * * * The Calabrians 
are capable of being made excellent soldiers from their 
robust constitutions, their sobriety, activity, and quickness. 
If these people, isolated as they are from the rest of Europe, 
and entrenched behind impassable mountains, were actu- 
ated by a pure spirit of patriotism, political and religious, 
they Would become invincible; and the country they in- 
habit might be rendered a sure and safe asylum against 
tyranny/ 



POEMS. 



By William Cullen Brya.nt. 
Andrews, 1832. 



London, 



Our reasons for noticing and recommending this 
volume to our readers are manifold. It is beautiful \ n 
itself; it is written by an American; it is one of th* 



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best specimei 
our transatlai 
Irving, the r 
and is by hin 
Rogers, the 

who, at an a „,_._.._. 

generous glow of youth for letters and for arts, and for 
every thing connected with the intellectual improvement 
of mankind. 
• The exhibition of actual specimens of American taste 
and literature will tend to counteract the mischievous 
effects of those caricatures of American life and manners 
with which some authors have of late amused the spleen 
and prejudice of the British public. It is important to 
remove the illusion produced by writers of talent, who, 
professing' to delineate national peculiarities truly, ex- 
aggerate and misrepresent them : regardless, and per- 
haps unconscious, that by using ridicule and sarcasm on 
such subjects they are renewing antipathies which never 
had a rational existence, and which years of friendly 
intercourse had almost annihilated ; and are detaching 
from us the sympathies of those who by descent, com- 
munity of free institutions (though differently modified), 
and identity of language, must naturally be well disposed 
towards us. 

" During an intimacy of some years' standing," says 
Washington Irving to Samuel Rogers, u I have 
uniformly remarked a liberal interest on your part hi 
the rising character and fortunes of my country, and a 
kind disposition to promote the success of American 
talent, whether engaged in literature or the arts. I am 
induced, therefore, as a tribute of gratitude, as well as a 
general testimonial of respect and friendship, to lay 
before you the present volume, in which, for the first 
time, are collected together the fugitive productions of 
one of our living poets, whose writings are deservedly 
popular throughout the United States." 

This is all as it should be, in relation both to -Mr. 
Rogers and his friend. And we confess we augur most 
favourably of the taste of a country, throughout which, 
poetry so refined in sentiment, and so pure in execution 
and ornament, as that contained in the volume before 
us, enjoys popularity. 

We began by recommending Mr. Bryants Poems. 
A perusal of tfie following specimen, as well as of one 
or two that we have lately printed separately, will jus- 
tify our so doing, and there are many pieces in the volume 
of equal originality and beauty. A warm admiration of 
the works of nature, strong religious feeling towards 
the great Author of these works, a singular happiness 
of description, and a power of clothing his descriptions 
" with moral associations that make them speak to the 
heart," " an independent spirit, and the buoyant aspira- 
tions incident to a youthful, a free, and a rising country */' 
are among' the charming characteristics of this American 
poet. We will only add, that the whole, while written 
m a style elegant enough to please the most fastidious, is 
simple and intelligible enough for the commonest reader. 

TO A WATERFOWL. 

Whither, midst falling dew, 

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way ? 
Vainly the fowler's eye 

Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 
Seek'st thou thy plashy brink 

Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 
Jr where the rocking billows rise and sink 

On the chafed ocean-side ? 
There is a Power whose care 

Teaches thy way along that pathless grunt— r 
The desert and illimitable air- 
Lone wandering, bat not last 

♦ Washington living's dedicatory Letter to Rogers, 



AH day thy wings have fanned, 

At that far height, the cold, thin^txnospherfj 
Tet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 

Though the dark night is near. k 

And soon that toil shall end, 

Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest 
And scream among thy fello^a , accu* «*•«. Dead 

Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 
Thou *rt gone — the abyss of heaven 

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 

And shall not soon depart. 
He, who, from zone to sone, 

Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
In the long way that I must tread alone, 

Will lead my steps aright. 

INDIA. 

[Pfen and Pencil Sketches. Being the Journal of a Tour m India. 
By Captain Mundy, late Aide-de-Camp to Lord Combermere 
2 vols. 8vo.] 

We recommend these two octavo volumes to thpse of 
our readers who may be able to obtain the perusal of 
them. We think that not only great amusement may be 
derived from Captain Mundy 's work, but that it supplies 
more information concerning the parts of our dominions 
in India that he visited, than may be collected from 
many ponderous volumes. In his lively chapters, 
indeed, amusement and fun (to use a homely word) 
go hand in hand with instruction. At the sketch of 
a human character, European or Indian, Hindoo or 
Mussulman, or at the sketch of a scene, the Captain is 
equally at home and happy ; and in the first class of 
his essays he shows so generous and philanthropic a 
feeling, and in the second so fine" a perception and appre- 
ciation of the beauties of nature, that he captivates both 
our affection and our taste. What we admire, too, as 
much as his talent — and this is- perhaps generally the 
inseparable companion of intellect of a superior order — 
is his fine cheerfulness of spirit In his daily life he is 
always disposed to make the best of things. He is as 
joyous in his tent, or the equally comfortless bungalow, 
as in the palace; palanqueens or the back of an elephant, 
Arabians or ragged coolies *, are all the same to him J 
Forward he goes on his journey, only telling you now 
and then that the thermometer is nearly at 100°, or 
thai it is raining deluges ; and he looks far, and finds 
amusement or interest of some kind or other wherever 
he moves ! At one time we find liim hunting the an- 
telope with leopards, at another bringing down partridges 
with a " Manton;" — here seeing a tiger fightiug with a 
rhinoceros, there himself m deadly conflict with a jungle 
tiger; — now Mac-adamizing or making roads at Simla, 
on the Steppes of the Himalaya mountains, now smoking 
his hookah at Calcutta. At his professional duties he 
is as cheerful as at his sports, and one cannot help per- 
ceiving he is in possession of that valuable but very at- 
tainable secret of making *' a pleasure of business." 

The following piece of practical philosophy, or how 
to make the best of a bad lodging, is a lesson for' alt 
classes *»■" 

" The elevation of Simla above the sea is seven thousand 
eight hundred feet; and, during the month of May, I find 
the thermometer was never higher than 73°, or lower than 
55°, in my garret. This apartment, occupied by me during 
our stay m the ,hills, was pervious both to heat and coin, 
being, infect, of that elevated character, which in England 
is usually devoted to cheeses, or apples and onions, and 
forming the interval between the ceiling of the dining-room 
and the wooden pent-roof of the house, which descending 
in a slope quite to the floor, only admitted of my standing 
upright m the centre. Though this canopy of planks was 



with wWtowashejjfjanvas, it by no means excluded 
the rains so peremptorwP as I, not being an amphibious 
animal, could have wished ; and, during some of the grand 
storms, the hailstones rattled with such stunning effect 
npon the drum-like, roof, that the echo sung in my ears for 
* A coolie is a rough Indian pony* 



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a week after. This my exalted dormitory was rendered ac- 
cessible by a wooden Madder; but, spite of its sundry d6sa- 
gr6 mens, I thanked my stars — in whose near neighbourhood 
I was — for my luck in getting any shelter at all, without the 
trouble of building, in the present crowded state of Simla. 
I enjoyed a splendid view from my windows (I beg pardon, 
window); and the luxury of privacy, except at night, when 
the rats sustained 1, keeping me in much 

the same state ai ig his first week in Lon- 

don. I soon grev my head against the roof 

in pursuit of the* larrees*, and at length 

became callous to ies— and kept a cat*." 

Even an hair-Dreacuu escape irom a midnight robber 
in no way interrupts the Captain's joyous mood :— 

" I retired to my tent this evening pretty well knocked up ; 
and during the night had an adventure, which might have 
terminated with more loss to myself, had I slept sounder. 
My bed, a low canopy, or * four feet,' was in one corner of 
the tent, close to a door, and I woke several times from a 
feverish doze, fancying I heard something moving in my 
1 ent ; but could not discover anything, though a cherang, or 
little Indian lamp, was burning ,on the table.- 1 therefore 
again wooed the balmy power, and slept. At length, just 
as * the iron tongue oi told twelve' (for I had 

looked at my watch efore, and replaced it 

under my pillow), I w; a rustling sound under 

my head; and, half o] , without changing my 

position I saw a hideous dirck iace within a foot of mine, 
and the owner of this index of a cut-throat, or, at least, cut- 
purse disposition, kneeling on the carpet, with one hand 
under my pillow, and the other grasping — not a dagger ! — 
but the door-post. Still without moving ray body, and with 
half-closed eyes, 1 gently stole^ my right hand to a boar- 
spear, which at night was always placed between my bed 
and the wall ; and as soon as I had clutched it, made a rapid 
and violent movement, in order to wrench it from its place, 
and try the virtue of its point upon the intruder s body — but 
I wrenched in vain. Fortunately for the robber, my bearer, 
in placing the weapon in its usual recess, had forced the 
point into the top of the tent and the butt into the ground so 
firmly, that I failed to extract it at the first effort; and my 
visitor, alarmed by the movement, started upon his feet and 
rushed through the door. I had time to see that he was 
perfectly naked, with the exception of a black blanket twisted 
round his loins, and that he had already stowed away in his 
cloth my candlesticks and my dressing-case, which latter 
contained letters, keys, money, and other valuables. I had 
also leisure, in that brief space, to judge, from the size of 
the arm extended to my bed, that the bearer was mdre 
formed for activity than strength; and, by his grizzled 
beard, that he was rather old than young. I, there/ore, 
sprung from my bed, and darting through the purdar of the 
inner door, seized him by the cummerbund just as he was 
passing the outer entrance J. The cloth, however, being 
loose, gave way, and ere I could confirm my grasp, he 
snatched . it from my hand, tearing away my thumb-nail 
down to the quick. In Ins anxiety to escape, he stumbled 
through the outer purdar, and the much-esteemed dressing- 
case fell out of his loosened zone. I was so close at his 
heels, that he could not recover it ; and jumping over the 
tent-ropes— which, doubtless, the rogue calculated would 
trip me up—-he ran towards the road. I was in such a fury, 
that, forgetting my bare feet, I gave chase, vociferating lus- 
tily, 'Choor! choor!' (thief! thief!) but was soon brought 
*up by some sharp stones, just in time to see my rascal, by 
the faint light of the room through the thick foliage over- 
head, jump upon a horse standing unheld near the road, 
and dash down the path at full speed, his black blanket fly- 
ing in the wind. What would I have given for my double- 
barrelled Joe at that moment ! As he and his steed went 
clattering along the rocky forest road, I thought of ttie 
black huntsman of the Hartz, or the erl-king t Returning 
to my tent, I solaced myself by abusing my servants, who 
were just rubbing their eyes and stirring themselves, and by 
threatening the terrified sepoy sentry with a court-martial. 
My trunks at night were always placed outside- the tent, 



f under the gentry's eye ; the robber, therefore, must have 
made his entry on the opposite side, and he must have been 
an adept in his vocation, as four or five servants were sleep* 
ts. The poor devil did not get much 
taring only secured a razor, a pot of 
erve to lubricate liis person for his 
nexi expion ), ana me candlesticks, which on closer inspec- 
tion, will prove to him the truth of the axiom, that * all is 
not gold that glitters,' nor even silver. * * * The next 
morning, on relating my adventure, I was told that 1 was 
fortunate in having escaped cold steel ; and many comfort- 
able instances were recited, of the robbed being stabbed in 
attempting to secure the robber t«'* 

But it is in his account of Indian hunting with 
which the volumes abound, and which are truly excel- 
lent, that Captain Mundy gives full way to his buoyant 
spirit and hilarity : and as the animal pursued is not the 
timid hare or the paltry fox, but generally the cruel, 
destructive, and formidable tiger, and as there is both 
adventure and danger, we can frequently follow him in 
these hunts with great interest. The following account 
of the sagacity of an elephant in a lion-hunt must con- 
clude our extracts : — 

" A lion had charged my friend's elephant, ajuilie, having 
wounded the Hon, was in the act of leaniug forward in order 
to fire another shot, when the front 'of the howdah (ele- 
phant's castle) suddenly gave way, and he was precipitated 
over the head of the elephant into the very jaws of the furious 
beast The lion, though severely hurt, immediately seized 
him, and would doubtless shortly have put a fatal termina- 
tion to the conflict, had not the elephant, urged by the 
mahout (the driver, who sits on the ejephant's neck), stej>- 
ped forward, though greatly alarmed, and grasping in her 
trunk the top of a young tree, bent it down hard across the 
loins of the lion, and thus forced the tortured animal to quit 
his hold ! My friend 's life was thus preserved, but his arm 
was broken in two places, and he was severely clawed on 
the breast and shoulders. The lion was afterwards slain 
by the other sportsmen who came up." 

* Indian thieves oil *heir naked bodies to render their seizure 
difficult. 

t Vol. i. p. 165. 

%* For notices to Correspondents, see the Wrapper of the Monthly 
Part. 

*** The Penny Magazine will, in most cases, be delivered weekly 
in the Towns of the United Kingdom, by Booksellers and News- 
venders, to whom Subscribers should address their Orders. It cannot 
be sent by Post as a Newspaper is, being unstamped. For the con- 
venience of those, who, residing in country places, cannot obtain the 
Publication at regular weekly intervals, the Numbers published 
during each Month will be stitched together to form a Monthly 
Part, That this Part may be sold at a convenient and uniform 
price, a Mohtui.y Supplement, consisting chiefly of Notices of such 
New Books as we think right to give a place to in ' the Library/ 
will appear with the regular Number on the last Saturday in the 
Month. The price of the Part, whether consisting of five or of six 
Numbers, will be Sixpence ; each Part will be neatly and strongly 
done up, in a wrapper. Thus, the annual Expense of Twelve Parts 
will be Six Shillings, viz. :— 

s. d. 
52 Regular Numbers .... 4 4 

12 Supplements 10 

12 Wrappers ....... 8, 

(T~0 



agodevas- 



* An immense association of robbosWhat a few yean 
fated India. They have been suppreJRy the British. 

t Vol. i. p. 235. J 

J The tents in India have doable flies; the outer khanaut, or walL 
forming a verandah, of some four feet wide, round the interior 
pavilion, 



LONDON ;— CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST.* 

Shopkeepers and Hawker* may be supplied JVholesale by the 'fo llo wing 

Booksellers :— 

Liverpool, Willmtr and Smith. 
Manchester, RobiMonj and Wan* ami 

SlMMI. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Cbabkliy* 

Norwich, Jarrold And Sen. 

Nottingham, Wrjoht. 

Oxfttrd, Si.attkr. 

Plymouth, Nkttlxtok. 

Portsea, Horsey, Jnn. 

Sheffield, Ridoe. 

StqJTordshire, Jamc Una, C. WatiV 

Worcester, Dxiobtok. 

Dublin, Wakeman. 

Edinburgh, Oliver and Bom. 

Glasgow, ATXiwtoN and Co. 



London, Groombridoe, Panyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Bath, SiMiig. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Weetley and Co. 
Carlisle, Trurnam ; and Scott. 
Derbj/r Wilkws and Son. 
Deeonport, Byers. 
Doneaster, Brooke and Co. 
Batter, Balls. 
Falmouth, Philp. 
Hull, Stephenson. 
Kendal.Hvvo* and Nioholsov. 
Leeds, Bainbs and Co. 
Lincoln, Brooks and Bows. 



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[July 7, 1882J 



he is frequently and eagerly hunted, I heard a good 
deal of his character and habits, which maybe comprised 
in the following sketch. 

The Boors and Hottentots describe the buffalo to be, 
what his aspect strongly indicates, an animal of a fierce, 
treacherous, and cruel disposition. Even when not 
provoked by wounds or driven to extremity in the chase, 
they say he will attack, with the utmost ferocity, his great 
enemy man, if he happens to intrude incautiously upon 
his haunts ; and what renders him the more dangerous 
it his habit of skulking in the jungle, when he observes 
travellers approaching, and then suddenly rushing out 
upon them. It has been remarked, too, (and this ob- 
servation has been corroborated by the Swedish traveller 
Sparrman,) that if he succeeds in killing a man by goring 
and tossing him with his formidable horns* he will 
stand over his victim afterwards for a long time, tram- 
pling upon him with his hoofs, crushing him with his 
knees, mangling the body with his horns, and stripping 
off the skin with his rough and prickly tongue. This he 
does not do all at once, but at intervals, going away 
and again returning, as if more fully to glut his ven- 
geance. 

Although I have no reason to question the truth of 
this description, it ought to be qualified by stating that 
though the buffalo will not unfrequently thus attack 
man, and even animals, without any obvious pro- 
vocation, yet this malignant disposition will be found, if 
accurately inquired into, the exception rather than the 
rule of the animal's ordinary habits. 
Vol. I. . 



east of prey than the 
lercer as well as more 
enough sometimes to 
against the lion, it is, 
ural instinct to retire 
irbed, rather than to 

that are adduced of 
arise chiefly from the 

a herd, especially at 
end furiously for the 
icts the unsuccessful 
for a season, by their 
some other species of 
ices*, are peculiarly 
Iking solitarily about 
r irritation, that they 
s disposition generally 

t the Cape buffalo is, 
1 to hunt; as, when 
will not unfrequently 
whose only chance of 
ss of his steed, if the 
?an. The Hottentot, 
us in plunging like an 
f an entangled forest, 
me on foot. Like all 
►rise is highly excited 
enture, buffalo hunt- 
ose who once devote 
rilous accidents that 
any deep impression 
i consequence is, that 
ed throughout every 
in the large forests or 
ere, together with the 
elephant, he still finds a precarious shelter. 

It was in this quarter that the following incident in 
buffalo hunting, which may serve as a specimen of this 
rough pastime, was related to me by a Dutch-African 
farmer, who had been an eye-witness of the scene some 
fifteen years before. A party of Boors had gone out to 
hunt a troop of buffaloes, which were grazing in a 
piece of marshy ground, interspersed with groves of 
yellow wood and mimosa trees, on the very spot where 
the village of Somerset is now built. As they could not 
conveniently get within shot of the game without 
crossing part of the valei or marsh, which did not affora 
a safe passage for horses, they agreed to leave their 
steeds in charge of their Hottentot servants and to 
advance on foot, thinking that if any of the buffaloes 
should turn upon them, it would be easy to escape by 
retreating across the quagmire, which, though passable 
for man, would not support the weight of a heavy 
quadruped. _ They advanced accordingly, and, under 
cover of the bushes, approached the game with such 
advantage that the first volley brought down three of 
the fattest of the herd, and so severely wounded the 
great bull leader that he dropped on his knees, bellowing 
with pain. Thinking him mortally wounded, the fore- 
most of the huntsmen issued from the covert, and began 
reloading his musket as he advanced to give him a 
finishing shot. But no sooner did the infuriated 
animal see his foe in front of him, than he sprang up 
and rushed headlong upon him. The man, throwing 
* The elephant, for instance. See Menageries, vol. ii. p. 71. 



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down his empty gun, -fled towards the quagmire ; but 
the savage beast was so dose upon him that he des- 
paired of escaping in that direction, and turning suddenly 
round a clump of copse\yood, began to climb an old mi- 
mosa, tree which stood at the one side of it. The raging 
beast, however, was too quick for him. Bounding 
forward with a roar, which my informant (who was of 
the party) described as being one of the most frightful 
sounds he ever heard, he caught the unfortunate man 
with his horns, just as he had nearly escaped his reach, 
and tossed him in the air with such force that the body 
fell, dreadfully mangled, into a lofty cleft of the tree. 
Tiie bulFalo ran round the tree once or twice apparently 
looking for the man, until weakened with loss of 
blood he again sunk on his knees. The rest of the 
party then, recovering from their confusion, came up 
and despatched him, though too late to save their 
comrade, whose body was hanging in the tree quite 
dead. p 

ON THE IMPORTANCE OF A PUBLIC DECLA- 
RATION OF THE REASONS OF DECISIONS 
IN COURTS OF JUSTICE. 
While a cause is pending, I admit that all pub- 
lications, and all the little arts of popularity, tending to 
raise the prejudices or to inflame the passions, ar 
highly improper, and ought not to be permitted. Bu , 
after the decision of a cause, the freedom of inquiry 
into the conduct and opinions of the judges is one of 
the noblest and best securities that human invention* can 
contrive for the faithful administration of justice. 

It is for this very purpose that it has been established 
in this country, that judges shall give their opinions 
and decisions publicly ; — an admirable institution, which 
does honour to Britain, and gives it a superiority in this 
respect over most of the other countries in Europe. 

Laws may recommend or enforce the due adminis- 
tration of justice; but these laws are of little avail, when 
compaied with the superior efficacy of the restraiut 
which arises from the judgment of the public, exercised 
upon the conduct and opinions of the judges. 

It would be extremely fatal to the liberties of this 
nation, and to that inestimable blessing, the faithful 
distribution of justice, if this restraint upon judges were 
removed or improperly checked. 

The public has a right, and ought to be satisfied with 
regard to the conduct, ability, and integrity of their 
judges. It is from these sources alone that genuine re- 
spect and authority can be derived ; and an endeavour 
to make these the appendages of office, independent of 
the personal character and conduct of the judge, is an 
attempt which, in this free and enlightened country, 
most probably never will succeed. 

This freedom of inquiry is not only essential to the in- 
terests of the community, but every judge, conscious of 
intending and acting honourably, ought to promote and 
rejoice in the exercise of it. It is a poor spirit indeed 
that can rest satisfied with authority and external regard 
derived from office alone. The judge who is possessed 
of proper elevation of mind will, both for his own sake 
and that of his country, rejoice that his fellow-citizens 
have an opportunity of satisfying themselves with re- 
gard to his conduct, and of distinguishing judges who 
deserve well of the public, from those who are unwor- 
thy. He will adopt the sentiment of the old Roman, 
who, conscious of no thoughts or actions unfit for 
public view, expressed a wish for windows in his 
breast, that all mankind might perceive what was pass- 
ing there. 

If these considerations are of any force for establish- 
ing the justness of the principle, the only objection I 
can foresee against this freedom of inquiry is, that it 
in\y happen sometimes to be improperly exercised. 
This is an objection equally applicable to some of the 



greatest blessings enjoyed by mankind, whether from 
nature or from civil institutions. It is no real objection 
to health or civil liberty, that both of them often have 
been, and are, extremely liable to be abused. 

When the freedom of inquiry now contended for hap- 
pens to be improperly used, it will be found that the 
mischief carries along with it its own remedy. The 
most valuable part of mankind are soon disgusted with 
unmerited or indecent attacks made either upon judges 
or individuals ; the person capable of such unworthy » * 
conduct loses his aim ; the unjust or illiberal invective 
returns upon himself, to his own disgrace ; and (he 
judge whose conduct has been misrepresented, instead 
of suffering in the public opinion, will acquire additional 
credit from the palpable injustice of the attack made 
upon him. 

%* From * Letters to Lord Mansfield, by Andrew Stuart, Kiq.' 

ON THE HOT WIND OF AFRICA CALLED THE 

CAMSIN. 
"On my route from Suez to Cairo," says Ruppel, "I 
haf* an opportunity of observing a meteorological pheno- 
rr non of a very curious nature, which possibly may lead 
' » some interesting results. In the year 1822, May the 
^lst, being seven hours distant from Cairo, and in the 
desert, we were overtaken by one of those violent winds 
from the south, about which many travellers have told 
us such wonderful and incredible stories. During the 
night there had been a light breeze from the north-east ; 
but a short time after sun-rise it began to blow fresh 
from the S.S.E., and the wind gradually increased tiH 
it blew a violent storm. Clouds of dust filled the whole 
atmosphere, so that it was impossible to distinguish anj 
object clearly as far off as fifty paces; even a camel 
could not be recognised at this distance. In the mean 
time, we heard all along the surface of the ground a i 

kind of rustling or crackling sound, which 1 supposed 
to proceed from the rolling sand that was dashed about 
with such fury by the wind. Those parts of our bodies 
which were turned towards the wind were heated to an 
unusual degree, and we experienced a strange sensation 
of smarting, which might be compared with the pricking ^ 
of fine needles. This was also accompanied by a 
peculiar kind of sound. At first I thought this smarting 
was occasioned by the small particles of sand being 
driven by the storm against the parts of the body that 
were exposed. In order to judge of the size of the* 
particles, I attempted to catch some in a cap ; but how 
great was my surprise when I found I could not succeed 
in securing a single specimen of these supposed little < 

particles. This led me to conceive that the smarting 
sensation did not proved from the small stones or the 
sand striking the body, but that it must be the effect of 
some invisible force, w'iich I could only compare with 
a current of electric fluid. After forming this conjecture, 
I began to pay closer attention to the phenomena 
which surrounded me. I observed that the hair of all 
our party bristled up a little, and that the sensation of 
pricking was felt most in the extremities and joints, 
just as if a man were electrified on an insulated stool. 
To convince myself that the painful sensation did not 
proceed from small particles of stone or sand, I held a 
piece of paper stretched up against the wind, so that 
even the finest portion of dust must have been detected, • 
either by the eye or the ear ; yet nothing of the kind 
took place. The surface of the paper remained perfectly 
unmoved and free from noise. I stretched my arms 
out, and immediately the pricking pain in the ends of 
my fingers increased. This led me to conjecture that 
the violent wind, called in Egypt Camsin, is either 
attended by strong electrical phenomena, or else the 
electricity is caused by the motion of the dry sand of 
the desert. Hence we may account for the heavy 
masses of dust, formed of particles of sand, which, for 



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several days, darken the cloudless sky. Perhaps we 
may also go so far as to conjecture that the Camsin 
may have destroyed caravans by its electrical properties, 
since some travellers assure us that caravans have occa- 
sionally perished in the desert ; though I must remark 
tlmt in all the regions I have travelled through, I never 
could hear the least account of such an occurrence. At 
all events, to suppose that such calamities have been 
caused by the sand overwhelming the caravans, is the 
I most ludicrous idea that can be imagined. 

" The Camsin generally blows in Egypt for two or 
three days successively, but with much less violence 
during the night than the day. It only occurs in the 
period between the middle of April and the beginning 
of June, and hence its Arabic name, which signifies, 
1 the wind of fifty days/ " 



FORKS. 

[From a-Correspondent.] 
The interesting extract in your Magazine of the 26th 
May, on forks, induces me to send you a few scraps on 
the history of forks. 

The word fork occurs only once or twice in the 
Bible ; once in the Pentateuch, where mention is made of 
" flesh forks," evidently invented to take the meat out 
of the pot ; the other instance is in an account of the 
riches of Solomon's temple, where, singularly enough, 
the Vulgate has the word furca, which the English 
translation renders by spoon. Athenaeus mentions also 
the word fork ; but it does not appear whether it was a 
bident (with two prongs), or a trident (with three 
prongs), and it is quite certain that the Greeks weje 
ignorant of the use of forks in eating. At that time 
even Lucullus was not acquainted with that luxury; a 
two-branched instrument or two were found at Hercula- 
nemn, but it seems clear that they were not used at 
(able in any period of the Roman history. The first 
instance that history records of the use of forks was at 
the table of John the good Duke of Burgundy, and he 
had only two. 
At that period the loaves were made round ; fl^v were 
cut in slices which were piled by the side of the carver, 
or Eatyer Tranchant (Cutting Squire). He had a 
pointed cirving-knife, and a skewer of drawn silver or 
goM, which he stuck into the joint; having cut, off a 
•lice, he took it on the point of the knife, and placed 
it on a slice of bread, which was served to the guest. 
This ancient custom of serving the meat on the point 
of the carver is still general throughout the continent 
t of Europe. A leg or a haunch of mutton had always 
a piece of paper wrapped round the shank, which the 
carver took- hold of with the left hand when he carved 
. the joint, and such is still the custom in Lower 
Germany and Italy. We, who always imitate, and 
often without knowing why, have imported the custom 
of ornamenting the shank, but the penetration of the 
fork is a decided improvement. Pointed knives are 
still general on the Continent, it being so difficult to 
leave off old customs, even after the occasion that gave 
them birth has ceased. It is only since the peace, when 
every thing English became fashionable, that round- 
topped knives have been adopted at Paris. 

Before the revolution in France it was customary, 
when a gentleman was invited to dinner, for him to 
send his servant with his knife, fork, and spoon; or if 
he had no servant, he carried them with him in his 
Dreeches-pocket, as a carpenter carries his rule. A few 
of the ancient regime still follow the good old custom, 
because it is old. The peasantry of the Tyrol, and of 
parts of Germany and Switzerland, generally carry a 
case in their pockets, containing a knife and fork, and a 
spoon. 

Few use a fork so gracefully as an English lady. 
The Germans grasp it with a clenched fist.- 



THE WEAVER'S'SONG. 

[From 'English Songs, and other Poems, by Barry Goanra]L r ] 
Weave, brothers, weave ! — Swiftly throw 

The shuttle athwart the loom, 
And show us how brightly your flowers grow, 

That have beauty but no perfume ! 
Come, show us the rose, with a hundred dyes, 

The lily, that hath no spot ; 
The violet, deep as your true love's eyes. 
And the little forget-me-not ! 

Sing, — sing, brothers 1 weave and sing I 
, Tis good both to sing and to weave t 
Tis better to work than live idle * 
Tis better to sing than grieve. 
Weave, brothers, weave ! — Weave, and bid 

The colours of sunset glow ! 
Let grace in each gliding thread be hid ! 

Let beauty about yc blow ! 
Let your skein be long, and your silk be fine, 

And your hands both firm and sure, 
And time nor chance shall your work untwine; 
But all, — like a truth, — endure !— 

So, — sing, brothers, &c 
Weave, brothers, weave! — Toil is ours ; 

But toil is the lot of men : 
One gathers the fruit, one gathers the flowers, 

One soweth the seed again : 
There is not a creature, from England's King, 

To the peasant that delves the soil, 
That knows half the pleasures the seasons bring, 
If he have not his share of toil ! 

So, — sing, brothers, &c. 

Dances: the Tarantula.—" The Peccorara and Taran- 
tella are the dances of Calabria : the latter is generally 
adopted throughout the kingdom of Naples. The music 
accompanying it is extravagant and without melody : it con- 
sists of some notes, the movement of which is always in- 
creasing, till it ends in producing a convulsive effort Two 
persons placed opposite to each other make, like a .pair of 
savages, wild contortions and indecent gestures, which ter- 
minate in a sort of delirium. This dance, originating in the 
city of Tarentum, has given rise to the fable of the Taran- 
tula, whose venomous bite, it is pretended, can be cured 
only by musjc and hard dancing. Many respectable per- 
sons who have Yesided for a kmg time in the city of Taren- 
tum, have assured me that they never witnessed any circum- 
stance of the kind, and that it. could be only attributed to 
the heat and insalubrity of the climate, which produce 
nervous affections that are soothed and composed by the 
charms of music The Tarantula is a species of spider that 
is to be found all over the South of Italy. The Calabrians 
do not fear it, and I have often seen our soldiers hold it in 
their hands without any bad effects ensuing." — Calabria* 
during a Military Residence 

Property. — The advantages of the acquisition of property 
are two-fold ; they are net merely to be estimated by the 
pecuniary profit produced, but by the superior tone of in- 
dustry and economy which the possessor unconsciously ac- 
quires. When a man is able to call his own that which he 
has obtained by his own well-directed exertion, this power 
at once causes him to feel raised in the scale of being, and 
endows him with the capability of enlarging the stock of his 
possessions. A cottager having a garden, a cow, or even a 
pig, is much more likely to be an industrious member of 
society than one who has nothing in which he can take an 
interest during his hours of relaxation, and who feels he is 
of no consequence because he has nothing which he can call 
his own. The impressions which have been produced upon 
the minds of the peasantry, by affording them the means of 
acquiring property and of possessing objects of care and 
industry, are great, unqualified, and unvaried. In every 
instance the cottager has been rendered more industrious, 
the wife more active and managing, the children better 
educated, and more fitted for their station in life. 

A Golden Ride —Industry will make a man a purse, and 
frugality will find him strings for it Neither the purse nor 
the strings will cost him -anything. He who has it should 
only draw the strings as frugality directs, and he will be sure 
always to find a useful penny atthe bottom of it The ser- 
vants of industry are known by their livery ; it is always 
whole and wholesome. Idleness travels very leisurely, and 
poverty soon overtakes him. Look at the ragged slave* 
of idleness, and judge which is the best master to serve — 

INDUSTRY or IDLENESS 



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thrown out of any means of obtaining a living. He 
requested his brother, who was then delivering a course 
of lectures on anatomy, to take him as an assistant in 
his dissecting-room — and intimated that if this proposal 
should not be accepted he would enlist as a soldier. His 
brother, in reply, invited him to come to London. This 
was in September, 1748, when he was in his twenty- 
first year. Never, perhaps, did any learner make a more 
rapid progress than John Hunter now made in his new 
study. Even his first attempt in the art of dissection 
indicated a genius for the pursuit ; and such was the 
success which rewarded his ardent and persevering 
efforts to improve himself, that after about a year he was 
considered by his brother fully competent to take the 
management of a class of his own. H is subsequent rise 
entirely corresponded to this promising commencement. 
It was not long before he took his place in the front rank 
of his profession, and had at his command its highest 
honours and emoluments. The science of anatomy, how- 
offer, continued to be his favourite study ; and in this he 
Acquired his greatest glory. Not only the chief portion 
of his time, but nearly the whole of his professional gains, 
were devoted to the cultivation of this branch of know- 
ledge. One of the principal methods to which he had 
recourse in order to throw light upon the structure of 
the human frame, was to compare k with those of the 
various inferior animals. Of these he had formed a 
large collection at his villa at Earl's Court, Brompton ; 
" and it was to him," says Sir Everard Home, '* a fa- 
vourite amusement in his walks to attend to their actions 
and their habits, and to make them familiar with him. 
The fiercer animals were those to which he was most 
partial, and he had several of the bull kind from dif- 
ferent .parts of the world. Among these was a beautiful 
small bull he had received from the Queen, with which 
he used to wrestle in play, and entertain himself with its 
exertions in its own defence. In one of these conflicts 
the bull overpowered him, and got him down ; and had 
not one of the servants accidentally come by, and fright- 
ened the animal away, this frolic would probably have 
cost him his life." The same writer relates that on 
another occasion •• (wo leopards that were kept chained 
in an outhouse, had broken from their confinement, and 
got into the yard among some dogs, which they imme- 
diately attacked. The howling this produced alarmed 
the whole neighbourhood. Mr. Hunter ran into the 
yard to see what was the matter, and found one of them 
getting up the wall to make his escape, the other sur- 
rounded by the dogs. He immediately laid hold of them 
both, and carried them back to their den ; but as soon as 
they were secured, and he had time to reflect upon the 
risk of his own situation, he was so much affected that 
he was in danger of fainting." Mr. Hunter's valuable 
museum of anatomical preparations was purchased by 
Parliament after his death for £15,000; and it is now 
deposited in the hall belonging to the Royal College of 
Surgeons, in Lincoln's- Inn-Fields, where the public are 
admitted to view it on the order of any member of the 
society. This distinguished person died suddenly on the 
16th of October, 1793, in the sixty-sixth year of his age. 

THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.— No. 1. 

ITALY. 

The condition of the Italian labourers varies in the dif- 
ferent states. The following accounts are from the best 
authorities:-* 

"The labourers in Lombardy (the most fruitful 
region in Italy) have remained, throughout all the 
changes of government, what they were before 1796, the 
servants of those whose lands they work ; none have 
become proprietors. Before the revolution of 1796 the 
greater part of the land was in the hands of the high 
nobility and the clergy. Now it is partly in the posses- 
sion of a small number of shrewd speculators who have 



known how to take advantages of 'political changes to 
enrich themselves. But the peasants have not been 
benefited by the change. They are still, not by law but 
by necessity, bound to the soil, in a state of degradation, 
all their food consisting of a sort of bread made of 
Indian cornflour, of beans and weak sour wine; they 
seldom taste meat. Those who are employed on the 
rice-grounds are still more wretched. They are obliged 
to remain for hours with their legs in marshy water, and 
this engenders a cutaneous disease known by the name 
of pellagra, which they generally neglect until they lose 
the use of their limbs and are obliged at last to go to the 
hospital where many of them die*." 

In the * Letters from the North of Italy,' by Mr. S. 
Rose, the writer describes the following scene of misery, 
— one out of a thousand : — '* A few days ago I saw a 
poor infant lying under a sack in the convulsions of an 
ague fit, and the next morning meeting another child 
whom I knew to be his brother, I asked him * How does 
your brother do?' to which he answered; 'Which 
brdther, sir?' — * Your brother that has the fever.' — 
* There are five of us with the fever, sir/ — * Where do 
you sleep ?' — ' In an empty stable, sir.' — ' Where are 
your father and mother ?' — * Our mother is dead, and 
our father begs or does such little chance jobs as offer 
in the hotel.' — ' And what do you do ?' — * 1 get up the 
trees here and pick vine leaves for the waiters to stop 
the decanters with, and they give us our panada.' This 
is bread boiled in water with an infusion of oil or butter. 
Had my pecuniary means been adequate to my desire 
to diminish this mass of misery, how was the thing to 
be accomplished ? I do not believe that I could have 
found a family that would have boarded these melan- 
choly little mendicants, and am quite sure that no one 
would have had the patience to bear with the wayward- 
ness of sickly childhood. In England the parish work- 
house, or some neighbouring hospital, would have offered 
a ready resource. There are hospitals indeed here, 
but these are so thinly scattered (except those in the 
Roman States which are both numerous and magnifi- 
cent), and are administered on such narrow principles, 
exclusive of particular diseases and particular ages, and 
always turning upon some miserable question of habi- 
tancy, within very confined limits, that they are usually 
insufficient to the purposes I have mentioned. ,, This 
was written from the Venetian States some twelve years 
ago, since which time workhouses have been introduced 
into some of the principal towns. 

In Tuscany the peasantry, are much better off. La- 
bourers' wages are there between ninepence and a shil- 
ling a day, which, considering the low price of provisions, 
and the mildness of the climate, is comparatively a good 
remuneration. The women earn money by plaiting 
straw, out of which the Leghorn hats are made. The 
farmers are either small proprietors themselves, or, if 
tenants, share the produce with their landlord, who 
stocks the farm and provides half the seeds and imple- 
ments. This mode of holding land by persons not pos- 
sessing capital is very ancient ; — and is now called by 
writers on political economy, 4t Metayer Rent. ' 

Of the peasantry of the provinces of Bologna and 
llomagna, commonly called the Legations, and placed 
under the sovereignty of the Pope, we have the follow- 
ing interesting account in Simond's Travels in Italy : — 
44 The peasants are not proprietors and have not even 
a lease of their farms, but hold them from father to son 
by a tacit understanding most faithfully observed. The 
same roof often contains thirty or forty persons, — different 
branches of the same family, with one common interest, 
and governed by a chief who is chosen by themselves 
and is the sole person responsible to the landlord. He 
directs all without doors and his wife all within ; one or 
two other women take care of all the children that the 
fathers and mothers may go to work. We have lost a 
• Amminiftrftxiont del regno d'ltatia. 

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child during the night, said one of them who was not 
herself a mother. There reigns in general a most per- 
fect harmony in this patriarchal family. When the 
chief becomes too old, or otherwise incapable, another 
is chosen who succeeds alike to the engagements and 
power of his predecessor. He gives half the pro- 
duce to the landlord, and pays half the taxes. The 
.andlord seldom takes the trouble to inspect the divi- 
sions ; he chooses only between the heaps laid out by 
the tenant, and the grain is carried home. The same 
plan is observed with the hemp, which is not divided 
till it is pounded and put up into packets. As to the 
grapes, they are picked into large barrels, and an equal 
number sent to the farm-house and to the landlord, an 
operation generally intrusted wholly to the farmer. 
There are few villages, each farm-house being on the 
farm. These family associations live much at their 
ease, but have little mouey ; they consume much of 
their own produce and buy and sell very little. They 
have a great deal of poultry for home consumption. 
The women spin and plait and can even dye. The 
country diversions go little beyond the game of bowls ; 
they haVe no dances and no merry-meetings, but in 
lieu they have fine processions with music, discharge of 
cannon, and sometimes horse-races. Though wine is 
very plentiful, a drunken man is a rarity ; there are few 
bloody quarrels, and few thefts, at least domestic ones. 
The roads are safer here than in the Milanese, notwith- 
standing the Austrian police of the latter, for there the 
farms are large and the work is done by poor labourers 
who have no tie ; while here the tenants work for them- 
selves, are at ease, and have no temptation. The edu- 
cation of the people is intrusted to the priests, who give 
themselves little trouble, and very few peasants can read 
or write. Each large family generally consecrates a son 
to the Church ; they call him priest Don Peter, Au- 
gustin, &c, and he becomes the oracle of the family, but 
all intimate ties with him are broken and he is called 
'brother' no more." 

The hardy natives of the Genoese coast, hemmed in 
between the mountains and the sea, resort mostly to 
maritime occupations, in order jto better their fortunes. 
Their voyages are generally short, being chiefly confined 
to the Mediterranean. By strict economy and frugality 
they save the best part of their earnings which they 
bring home to their families ; who, during their absence, 
are employed in cultivating their gardens andjemon- 
trees, or in fishing. By these joint exertions, a numer- 
ous population is thriving on a barren soil ; and the 
whole line of the Riviera, or shore, for hundreds of miles, 
presents a succession of handsome bustling towns and 
villages, inhabited by a cheerful, healthy, and active race. 

Of the peasantry of Southern Italy and their con- 
dition we shall speak on a future occasion. 

ART OF SWIMMING. 

- * . [Written by Dr. Franklin to a Friend.] 
"Choose a place where the water deepens gradually, 
walk coolly into it till it is up to your breast, then turn 
round, your face to the snore, and throw an egg into 
the water between you and the shore. It will sink to 
the bottom, and be easily seen there, if your water is 
clear. It must lie in water so deep as that you cannot 
reach it up but by diving for it. To encourage yourself 
in order to do this, reflect that your progress will be 
from deeper to shallower water, and that at any time 
you may by bringing your lags under you and standing 
on the bottom, raise your head far above the water. 
Then plunge under it with your eyes open, throwing 
yourself towards the egg t and endeavouring by the 
actions of your hands and feet against the water to get 
forward till within reach of it In the attempt you 
will find, that the water buoys you up against your in- 
clination ; that it is not so easy a thing to sink as you 



had imagined ; that you cannot but by active force get 
down to the egg. Thus you feel the power of the water 
to support you, and learn to confide in that power; 
while your endeavours to overcome it, and reach the 
egg t teach you the manner of acting on the water with 
your feet and hands, which action is afterwards used in 
swimming to support your head higher above water 
or to go forward through it. I would the more ear- 
nestly press you to the trial of this method, because 
though I think I satisfied you that your body is lighter 
than water, and that you might float in it a long time 
with your mouth free for breathing, if you put yourseh 
in a proper posture and would be still and forbear 
struggling ; yet till you have obtained this experimental 
confidence in the water, I cannot depend on your hav- 
ing the necessary presence of mind to recollect that pos- 
ture and the directions I gave you relating to it. The 
surprise may put all out of your mind. For though we 
value ourselves on being reasonable creatures, reason and 
knowledge seem on such occasions to be of little use to 
us ; and the brutes, to whom we allow scarce a glim- 
mering of either, appear to have the advantage of us. 
I will, however, take this opportunity of repeating those 
particulars to you, which I mentioned in ojur last con- 
versation, as, by perusing them at your leisure, yon may 
possibly imprint them so in your memory as jgft occa- 
sions to be of some use to you. 1st That'^|mj|i^he 
legs, being solid parts, are specifically sometB|^B»rier 
than fresh- water, ,yet the trunk, particularly ^ tmper 
part, from its hollowness, is so much lighter thag water, 
as that the whole of the body taken together Is too light 
to sink wholly under water, but some part will remain 
above, until the lungs become filled with waigr, which 
happens from drawing water into them instead of air, 
when a person in the fright attempts breathing while 
the mouth and nostrils are under water. 2ndly. That 
the legs and arms are specifically lighter than salt-water, 
and will be supported by it, so that a human body 
would not sink in salt-water, though the lungs were 
filled as above, but from the greater specific gravity of 
the head. Srdly. That therefore a person throwing 
himself on his back in salt-water, and extending his 
arms, may easily lie so as to keep his mouth and nos- 
trils free for breathing ; and by a small motion of his 
hands may prevent turning, if he should perceive any 
tendency to it. 4thly. That in fresh- water, if a man throws 
himself on his back near the surface, he cannot long 
continue in that situation, but by proper action of his 
hands on the water. If he uses no such action, the 
legs and lower part of the body will gradually sink till 
he comes into an upright position, in which he will con 
tinue suspended, the hollow of the breast keeping the 
head uppermost. 5thly. But if, in this erect position,, 
the head is kept upright above the shoulders, as when 
we stand on the ground, the immersion will, by the 
weight of that part of the head that is out of water, 
reach above the mouth and nostrils, perhaps a ljfcle 
above the eyes, so that a man cannot long ren 
pended in water with his head in that position. 
The body continuing suspended as before, and up? _ 
if the head be leaned quite back, so that the face looks 
upwards, all the back part of the head being then under 
water, and its weight consequently in a great measure 
supported by it, the face will remain above water quite 
free for breathing, will rise an inch higher every inspira- 
tion, and sink as much every expiration, but never so 
low as that the water may come over the mouth. 7thly. 
If therefore a person unacquainted with swimming, and 
falling accidentally into- the water, could have presence 
of mind sufficient to avoid struggling and plunging, and 
to let the body take this natural position, he might con- 
tinue long safe from drowning till perhaps help would 
come. For as to the clothes, their additional weight 
while immersed is very inconsiderable, the water sup- 



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[July 14, 1832. 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



[Colosseum or Coliseum of Rome.] 



When the imperial power was firmly established at Rome, 
the sports of the amphitheatre were conducted upon a 
scale to which the Consuls of the republic had. scarcely 
dared to 'aspire. Caligula, on his birth-day, gave four 
hundred bears, and as many other wild beasts to be 
slain ; and on the birth-day of Drusilla, he exhibited 
these brutal spectacles^ continued to the succeeding day 
on a similar scale*. Claudius instituted combats be- 
tween Thessalian horsemen and wild bulls ; and he also 
caused camels to, fight for the first time with horses. 
Invention was racked to devise new combinations of 
cruelty. Many of the emperors abandoned themselves 
to these sports with as passionate an ardour * as the un- 
cultivated multitude. Sensuality debases as much as 
ignorance, because it is ignorance under another name. 
Claudius rose at daylight to repair to the Circus, and 
frequently remained, that he might not lose a single 
pang of the victims, while the people went to their aftak 
noon meal. Sometimes, during the reigns of Claudfly 
and Nero, an elephant was opposed to a single fencer ; 
and the spectators were delighted by the display of indi- 
vidual skill. Sometimes, hundreds and even thousands 
of the more ferocious beasts were slaughtered by guards 
on horseback ; qnd the pleasure of the multitude was in 
proportion to the lavishness with which the blood of man 
and beast was made to flow. The passion for these sports 
required a more convenient theatre for its gratification 
than the old Circus. The Colosseum was commenced by 
Vespasian, and completed by Titus (a. d. 79). This enor- 
mous building occupied only three years in its erection. 
Cassiodorus affirms that this magnificent monument of 
folly cost as much as would have been required for the 
building of a capital city. We have the means of dis- 
tinctly ascertaining its dimensions and its accommoda- 
tions from the great mass of wall that still remains entire ; 
and although the very clamps of iron and brass that 
held together the ponderous stones of that wonderful 
edifice were removed by Gothic plunderers ; and suc- 
ceeding generations have resorted to it as to a quarry 
for their temples and their palaces ; yet the " enor- 
mous skeleton" still stands, to' show what prodigious 
* Dkra, lib, lis. 
Vol. I. 



works may be raised by the skill and perseverance of 
man, and how vain are the mightiest displays of his power 
when compared with those intellectual efforts which have 
extended the empire of virtue and of science. 

The^Colosseum, which is of an oval form, occupies 
the space of nearly six acres. " It may justly be said 
to have been the most imposing building, from its appa- 
rent magnitude, in the world ; the pyramids of Egypt 
can only be compared with it in the extent of their plan, 
as they cover nearly the same surface *." The greatest 
length, or major axis, is 620 feet ; the greatest breadth, 
or minor axis, 513 feet. The outer wall is 157 feet high 
in its whole extent. The exterior waH is divided into 
four stories, each ornamented with one of the orders of 
architecture. The cornice of the upper story is per- 
forated for the purpose of inserting wooden masts, 
which passed also through the architrave and frieze, 
and descended to a row of corbels immediately above 
the upper range of windows, on which are holes to re- 
ceive the masts. These . masts were for the purpose of 
attaching cords to, for sustaining the awning which 
defended the spectators from the sun or rain. Two cor- 
ridors ran all round the building, leading to staircases 
which ascended to the several stories ; and the seats 
which descended towards the arena, supported through- 
out upon eighty arches, occupied so much of the space 
that the clear opening of the present inner wall next the 
arena is only 287 feet by 180 feet Immediately above 
and around the arena was the podium, elevated about 
twelve or fifteen feet, on which were seated the emperor, 
senators, ambassadors of foreign nations, and other 
distinguished personages in that city of distinctions. 
From the podium to the top of the second story were 
seats of marble for the equestrian order ; above the 
second story the seats appear to have been constructed 
of wood. In these various seats eighty thousand spec- 
tators might be arranged according to their respective 
ranks ; and indeed it appears from inscriptions, as well 
as from expressions in Roman writers, that many of the* 
places in this immense theatre were assigned to par- 

* The Architectural Antiquities of Rome, by E. Creey and G. 3W 
Taylor : a work of equal accuracy and splendour. 



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ticular individuals, and that each might find his seat 
without confusion. The ground was excavated over the 
surface of the arena in IS13 ; a great number of sub- 
structions were then discovered, which by some anti- 
quaries are considered to be of modern date, and by 
others to have formed dens for the various beasts that 
were exhibited. The descriptions which have been left 
by historians and other writers of the variety and extent 
of the shows, would indicate that a vast space and ample 



Gibbon, the historian, has given a splendid descrijv 
tion, in his twelfth book, of the exhibitions of the Colo . - 
Sc'um ; but he acknowledges his obligations to Mon- 
taigne, who, says the historian, " gives a very just and 
lively view of Roman magnificence in these spectacles." 
Our readers will, we doubt not, be gratified by the quaint 
but most appropriate sketch of the old philosopher of 
France : — 

" It was doubtless a fine thing to bring and plant 

t with all 
ig a great 
the first 
thousand 
r deer, to 
the next 
dred ie«*- 
i his pre- 



sence : and for the third day, to* make three hundred 
pair of fencers to fight it out to the last, — as the Emperor 
Probus did. It was also very fine to see those vast 
amphitheatres, all faced with marble without, curiously 
wrought with figures and statues, and the inside spark- 
ling with rare, decorations and enrichments \ ah* the 
sides of this vast space tilled and environed from the 
bottom to the top, with three or four score ranks of seats, 
all of marble also, and covered with cushions, wh^re an 
hundred thousand men might sit placed at their ease ; 
and the place below, where the plays were played, to 
make it by art first open and cleft into chinks, repre- 
senting caves that vomited out the beasts designed for 
the spectacle ; and then, secondly, to be overflowed with 
a profound sea, full of sea- monsters, and loaded with 
ships of war, to represent a naval battle : and thirdly, to 
make it dry and even again for the combats of the 
gladiators ; and for the fourth scene, to have it strewed 
with vermilion and storax, instead of sand, there to 
make a solemn feast for all that infinite number of people 
—the last act of one only day. 

" Sometimes they have made a high mountain ad- 
vance itself, full of fruit-trees and other nourishing sorts 
of woods, sending down rivulets of water from the top, 
as from the mouth of a fountain : other whiles, a great 
ship was seen to come rolling in, which opened and di- 
vided of itself ; and after having disgorged from the hold 
four or five hundred beasts for fight, closed again, and 
vanished without help. At other times, from the floor 
of this place, they made spouts of perfumed waters dart 
their streams upward, and so high as to besprinkle all 
that infinite multitude. To defend themselves from the 
injuries of the weather, they had that vast place one 
while covered over with purple curtains of needle-work, 



and by and by with silk of another colour, which they 
could draw off or on in a moment, as they had a mi nil. 
The net-work also that was set before the people to de- 
fend them from the violence of these turned-out beasts 
was ajso woven of gold." 

; " If there be anything excusable in such excesses as 
these," continues Montaigne, " it is where the novelty 
and invention create more wonder than -expense/" 
Fortunately for the real enjoyments of mankind, even 
imder the sway of a Roman despot, " the novelty and 
invention" had very narrow limits when applied to mat- 
ters so utterly unworthy and un intellectual as the cruel 
sports of the amphitheatre. Probus, indeed, trans- 
planted trees to the arena, so that it had the appearance 
of a verdant grove ; and Severus introduced four hun- 
dred ferocious animals in one ship sailing in the little 
lake which the arena formed. But on ordinart occa- 
sions, profusion, — tasteless, haughty, and uninventive 
profusion, — the gorgeousness of brute power, the pomp 
of satiated luxury — these constituted the only claim to 
the popular admiration, if Titus exhibited five thou- 
sand wild beasts at the dedication of the amphitheatre, 
Trajan bestowed ten thousand on the people at the con- 
clusion of the Dacian war. If the younger Gordian 
collected together bears, elks, zebras, ostriches, boars, 
and wild horses, he was.an imitator only of the specta- 
cles of Carious, in which the rarity of the animals was 
as much considered as their fierceness. Gibbon has 
well remarked, " While the populace gazed with stupid 
wonder on the splendid show, the naturalist mig-ht 
indeed observe the figure and properties of so many dif- 
ferent species, transported from every part of the ancient 
world into the amphitheatre of Rome. But this acci- 
dental benefit} which science might derive from follr, 



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!# surely insufficient to justify such a wanton abuse of. 
the public riches." The prodigal waste of the public 
riches, however, was not the weightiest evil of the sports 
of the Circus. The public morality was sacrificed upon 
the same shrine as its wealth. The destruction of 
beasts became a fit preparation for the destruction oi 
men. A small number of those unhappy persons who 
engaged in fight with the wild animais of the arena, 
were trained to these dangerous exercises, as are the 
matadors of Spain at the present day. These men were 
accustomed to exhaust the courage of the beast by false 
attacks ; to spring on a sudden past him, striking him 
behind before he could recover his guard ; to cast a 
cloak over his eyes, and then despatch or bind him at 
this critical moment of his terror ; or to throw a cup full 
of some chemical preparation into his gaping mouth, so 
as to prodjtfce the stupefaction of intense agony. But 
the greater part of the human beings who were exposed 
to these combats, perilous even to the most skilful, were 
disobedient slaves and convicted malefactors. The Chris- 
tians, during their persecutions, constituted a very large 
number of the latter class. The Roman power was 
necessarily intolerant ; the assemblies of the new religion 
became objects of dislike and suspicion ; the patience 
and constancy of the victims increased the fury of their 
oppressors ; and even such a man as the younger Pliny 
held that their obstinacy alone was deserving of punish- 
ment Thus, then, the imperial edicts against the early 
Christians furnished more stimulating exhibitions to the 
popular appetite for blood, than the combat of lion with 
lion, or gladiator with gladiator. The people were taught 
to believe that they were^Mgsting at a solemn act of 
justice ; and they came throtore to behold the tiger and 
the leopard tear the quivering limb of the aged and the 
young, of the strong and the feeble, without a desire to 
rescue the helpless, or to succour the brave. 
*»* Abridged from Menageries, vol. ii. 

SALE OF THE SPECTATOR. 

It is Addison's friend Tickell who tells us that the sale 
of the ' Spectator* sometimes amounted to 20,000 
copies. The statement, however, is scarcely credible. 
In the tenth number of the work it is mentioned on 
the authority of the publisher, that the sale was 
already 3,000 a day. We question if it ever rose 
much higher than this. No. 445, which appeared on 
the 31st of July, 1712, was the last published without 
a stamp ; and in it the writer (Addison) intimates 
that the price will in future be two-pence instead of a 
penny. Half of thfe addition was to pay for the half- 
penny stamp, and the other half to compensate for the 
diminished circulation. rA hope is at the same time 
expressed that the country may receive •• five or six 
pounds a day" by means of this ta* laid on the work. 
Even if this hope had been realised to its utmost extent, 
it would have implied a sale of only 2,880 copies. But 
in point of fact this appears to have been nearly the full 
circulation before the duty was put on ; for, in No. 555, 
the concluding paper (of the first series) which is written 
and signed by Steele, the editor, the average produce 
©f the tan is only rated as being then " above 20/. a 
week." The sale must therefore have been only about 
1,600 a day. And yet it seems to be intimated that it 
had for some time been rather recovering from the de- 
pression occasioned by the imposition of the tax : it was 
at first reduced, we are told, ** to less than half the 
number that was usually printed before this tax was 
laid." The circulation before the imposition of the 
tax, therefore, could not have greatly exceeded 3,000 ; 
and, such being its average amount, it seems scarcely 
possible that even on extraordinary occasions it should 
have ever risen to anything like the number mentioned 
by TickelJ. At the time he wrote, however, the papers 
making the first four volumes had been reprinted and 



published in a cheaper form, and above" 9,000 ttfpfea 
of each volume had been sold. This sale of the third 
and fourth volumes appears to have been effected in the 
course of the preceding three months ; during which 
time, however, very few copies, if any at all, of the first 
and second volumes, would seem to have been disposed 
of. For, in No. 448, we are told that of these two volumes 
an edition of about 10,000 copies had already been car- 
ried off. It may be concluded, therefore, that this was 
the whole number which the demands of the public 
would be made to absorb. Many editions, however, ot 
what extent we do not know, were sold in the course of 
tlie next twenty or thirty years. We have before us 
Tonson's tenth edition, published in 1729 ; and his 
eleventh, dated 1733. There had been a new edition, 
therefore, about once in every two years since the first 
appearance of the work. 

It was probably this stamp duty which chiefly con- 
tributed to bring the ' Spectator' to a close. In the 
number in which the rise of price is announced, consider- 
able hesitation is expressed as to whether the publica- 
tion should be continued or dropt, as it was understood 
many of the other penny papers would be. From a 
letter in No. 461, it appears that the * Spectator* was the 
only one of these periodicals which had doubled its price ; 
the others which survived contented themselves with 
merely charging their subscribers the additional half- 
penny required to defray the tax. These, however, 
could not have allowed the retailers any additional 
profit concurrent with the additional price, On account 
of the increased price several coffee-houses had left off 
taking the * Spectator.' In No. 488 we have again a 
notice of complaints made by subscribers on account of 
this rise in the price of the publication. In a short time 
after this we find the writers evidently beginning to make 
preparations for concluding their work. The members 
of the club drop off one byon* In No. 513 the clergy- 
man is laid on his death-bed. No. 517 announces the 
death of Sir Roger ; and No. 530 the marriage of 
Will Honeycomb. In No. 541 the Templar withdraws 
himself to study law. " What will all this end in ?' 
says a letter in the* next day's publication ; u we are 
afraid it portends no good to the public Unless you 
speedily fix a day for the election of new members, we 
are under apprehensions of losing the ' llritfak Spec- 
tator.' " But the* process of dissolution goes on. No. 
544 communicates, in an epistle from himself, the trans- 
formation of Captain Sentry into a Squire ; and, finally, 
No. 549 the removal of Sir Andrew Freeport by the 
same fate. Another week terminated the original series 
of the ' Spectator,' after it had continued^ delight the 
public for about a year and three quarters. It was re- 
sumed about half a year afterwards, as a thrice-a-week 
publication ; but the attempt is not understood to have 
met with the success by which it had formerly been 
attended ; and the work was again laid down after i* 
had continued for about six months. 



AGE OF THE HORSE. 

The method of judging the age of a horse is by examining 
the teeth, which amount to forty when complete ; namely, 
.six nippers, or incisors, as they are sometimes called, two 
tushes, and six grinders on each side, in both jaws. A foal, 
when first born, has in each jaw the first and second grinders 
developed : in about a week the two centre nippers make 
their appearance, and within a month a third grinder^ Be- 
tween the sixth and ninth month the whole of the nippers 
appear, completing the colt's ntoutk. At the completion of 
the first year a fourth grinder appears, and a fifth by the 
end of the second year. At this period a new process com 
mences, the front or first grinder giving way, which is sue 
ceeded by a larger and permanent tooth, and between two 
years and a half and three years the two middle nippers are 
displaced, and succeeded by permanent teeth. At three 
years old the sixth grinder has either made or is about 
making its appearance. In the fourth year another pair of 



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row of Compliment/ written in 1654, seems to show 
the prevalence of smoking at that period : — 

" Much meat doth Gluttony procure 

To feed men fat as swine ; 
But he's a frugal man indeed, 

That on a lea/ can dine ! 
He needs no napkin for his hands, 

His fingers' ends to wi,*?, 
That hath his kitchen in a box. 

His roast meat in a Pipe !" 



THE WEEK. 



[Petrarch.] 

July 15. — Saint Swithin. — Swithin, or Swithum, was 
a bishop of Winchester who died in 868. He' was, if 
the tradition connected with his memory is to be believed, 
a man of sense ; for he was above observing one of the 
vain distinctions which exist even in our own day. He 
desired that he might be buried in the open church-yard, 
instead of the chancel of the minster, where the great 
reposed - % and Bishop Hall adds, that he Wished his body 
to be laid M wjiere the drops of rain might wet his grave ; 
thinking that no vault was so good to cover his grave as 
that of heaven." This- was a wise and a Christian wish ; 
for assuredly the desire that the worthless body shall be 
entombed beneath the sacred aisles where the living 
come to elevate their thoughts with the hopes of immor- 
tality, is a poor clinging of the soul to the perishable 
garment with which it is clothed. The wish of Swithin 
that his ashes should speedily mingle with the elements, 
and that the rains of heaven should water his grave, 
showed a humble and a truly religious mind. His 
monks, says the tradition., thought more highly of worldly 
distinctions ; and therefore, upon the good bishop being 
canonized, resolved to remove his body from the common 
cemetery into the choir of their church. This was to 
have been done on the 15th of July ; but it rained so 
violently for forty days that the design was abandoned. 
Mr. Howard, in his interesting work on the Climate of 
London, says, " The tradition is so far valuable as it 
proves that^he summers in this southern part of our 
island wA&lhibject a thousand years ago to occasional 
heavy rains, m the same way as at present" The popu- 
lar superstition connected with St. Swithin's day is ex- 
pressed in a Scotch proverb : — 

i " Saint Swithin's day, gif ye do rain, 

• , For forty days it will remain ; 
" Staaot Swithin's day, an ye be fair, 
For ftrty daiej twill rain me mair," 



Mr. Howard has taken some fains to ascertain bow 
far the popular notion is borne out by the fact. In 1 SOi, 
according to him, it rained with us on the day in 
question, and a dry time followed; and the same in 
1808. In 1818 and 1819 it was dry on the 15th, and 
a very dry time in each case followed. The other sum- 
mers, occurring between 1807 and 1819, appear to have 
come under the general proposition, " that in a majority 
of our summers, a showery period, which, with some 
latitude as to time and local circumstances, may be 
admitted to constitute daily rain for forty days, does 
come on about the time indicated by the tradition of St 
Swithsfc," 

July 20. — The birth-day of Francis Petrarch, one 
of the three renowned fathers of the literature of modern 
Italy. He was born in 1304, at Arezzo, in the Floren- 
fin> territory, the same district which had the glory of 
giving birth to his immediate predecessor Dante, and 
also to the other member of the illustrious trio, his 
contempofary and friend Boccaccio. Petrarch's father 
had been a fcotary in the city of Florence, but had, 
like Dante, been banished some time before the birth 
of his son in consequence of t one of the political 
convulsions then so frequent. Being intended by his 
father for his own profession, he was sent to study 
first at Montpellier and afterwards at Bologna; but 
he soon became deeply smitten with the charms of 
the newly-revived literature of antiquity, Virgil and 
Cicero stealing most of the hours which were pro- 
fessedly devoted to more rugged pages. His father 
is related to have been so much displeased on dis- 
covering how his son employed his time, that he took 
his favourite authors from him and threw them into the 
fire. This severity, however, failed to make a lawyer of 
Petrarch. His father died when he was about two and 
twenty, and he immediately abandoned the law alto- 
gether. He then chose the church *for his profession ; 
but he never was ordained, although in the latter 
part of his life some valuable clerical preferments 
were bestowed upon him by the patrons whom he 
had gained by his poetical fame. The remainder of 
Petrarch's life took much of its colour from an incident 
which happened to him in his twenty-seventh year, 
his meeting at Avignon, in Provence, with the cele- 
brated Laura, whose name he has rendered in so 
many beautiful verses as immortal as his own. After 
the researches of a long succession of biographers and 
critics, all is still uncertainty as to who or what this lady 
really was. Many have even believed that Petrarch 
spent his life in pouring' out his passionate rhymes to a 
mere ideal being, or vision of his imagination. Whe same 
obscurity hangs over the very existence of Laura as 
over that of Dante's Beatrice. Several succeeding years 
were spent by the poet in wandering through Italy and 
other countries. He then retired to Vaucluse, a solitary 
retreat not far from Avignon, and it was during several 
studious years which he spent there that he composed his 
principal works. The most memorable event of his life 
after this was his coronation, in 1340, as poet-laureat 
in the Capitol of Rome. " Twelve patrician youths," 
says Gibbon, " were arrayed in scarlet ; six represen- 
tatives of the most illustrious families, in green robes, 
with garlands of flowers, accompanied the procession ; 
in the midst of the princes and nobles, the senator, 
Count of Anguillara, a kinsman of the Colonna, as- 
cended the throne ; and at the voice of a herald, 
Petrarch arose. After discoursing on a text of Virgil, 
and thrice repeating his voWs for the prosperity of Rome, 
he knelt before the throne, and received from the senator 
a laurel crown, with a more preciefcw declaration, 4 This 
is the reward of merit.' The people shouted, • Long 
life to the Capitol and the Poet !' A sonnet in praise of 
Rome was accepted as the effusion of genius and grati- 
tude ; and after the whole procession had visited the 
Vatican, the profane wreath was suspended before tl* 



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[JULt^l, 



. shrine of St Peter. In the diploma which was pre- 
sented to Petrarch, the title and prerogatives of poet- 
laureat are revived in the capitol, after the lapse of 
thirteen hundred years; and he receives the perpetual 
privilege of wearing, at his choice, a crown of laurel, ivy 
or myrtle, of assuming the poetic habit, and of teaching, 
disputing, interpreting, and composing, in all places 
whatsoever, and on all subjects of literature. The grant 
was ratified by the authority of the Senate and people, 
and the character of citizen was the recompense of hir 
affection for the Roman name.' 1 - After these honour* 
he made other journeys to different parts of Ttaly, and 
also to Paris, in 1360, where he was received with great 
distinction. An archdeaconry in the church of Parma 
• priory in the diocese of Pisa, and a canonry at Padua 
were also as more substantial 

rewards i lions of the public 

admiratioi upposed to have mel 

with Petrarcn eitner in 1308, at tne marriage of Lionel 
Dnke of Clarence with the daughter of the Duke ol 
Milan, or more probably in the beginning of the yeai 
1873, when he is supposed to have gone on an erabass) 
to Genoa. At this interview Petrarch is thought tc 
have communicated to the English poet the beautiful 
and pathetic tale of Griselda, which he had recently re- 
ceived from his friend Boccaccio, and had translated from 
the latter's Italian into Latin. This translation, which 
Warton, in his History of English Poetry, inadvertently 
affirms never to have been printed, may be found in 
several of the old folio editions of Petrarch's works. 
Petrarch, in a letter to Boccaccio, tells us, says Warton, 
44 that on showing the translation to one of his Paduan 
friends, the latter/ touched with the tenderness, of the 
story, burst into such frequent and violent fits of tears, 
that he could not read to the end." 
* Petrarch spent the last four years of his life at the 
beautiful mountain^ village of Arqua, about twelve miles 
from Padua ; and here he died suddenly, in all proba- 
bility of apoplexy, on the 19th of July, 1374, having 
just completed his seventieth year. He was found that 
morning in his library, with his head resting on a book. 
Here* too, his remains were deposited and are still 
preserved. Many of our readers will remember Lord 
Byron's fine lines on this subject : — 

" There is a tomb in Arqui ; — reared in air, 

Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose 

The bones of Laura's lover : here repair 

Many familiar with his well-sung woes, 

The pilgrims of his genius. He arose 
. To raise a language, and his land reclaim 

From the dull yoke of her barbaric fbes : 

fatering the tree which bears his lady's name 
ith his melodious tears, he gave himself to lame. 

* They keep his dust in Arqua, where he died ; 
The mountain-village, where his latter days 
Went down the Tale of years ; and 'tis their pride— 
An honest pride—and let it be their praise, 
To offer to the passing stranger's gaze 
His mansion and his sepulchre j both plain 
Jkmd venerably simple, such as raise 
A feeling more accordant with his strain 
Than if a pyramid formed his monumental lame. 

u And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt 
Is one of that complexion which seems made 
For those who their mortality have felt, 
And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed 
In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade, 
Which shows a distant prospect far away 
Of busy cities, now in vain displayed, 
For they can lure no further ; and the ray 
Of a bnght sun can make sufficient holiday." 

THE ADVANTAGES OF A TASTE FOR THE 
BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 
[From Dr. Festival's Moral and Literary Dissertations.] 
Tbat sensibility to beauty, which, when cultivated and 
improved, we term taste, is universally diffused through the 
human species ; and it is most uniform with respect to those 
objects, which, being out of our power, are not liable to 
* "* n, from accident, caprice, or fashion. The verdant 



j lawn, the shady grove, tne variegated landscape, the bound- 
less ocean, and the starry firmament, are contemplated with 

' pleasure by every attentive beholder. But the emotions of 
different spectators, though similar in kind, differ widely in 
degree: and to relish, with full delight, the enchanting 
scenes of nature, the mind must be uncorrupted by avarice, 
sensuality, or ambition quick in her sensibilities ; elevated 
in her sentiments ; and devout in her affections. He who 
possesses such exalted powers of perception and enjoyment, 
may almost say, with the poet — 

i ature's grace ; 
of the sky, 

irs her brightening face ; 
et to trace 
ing streams, at eve : 
■ fibres brace, 
t children leave : 
ght can me bereave !" 
may not be compatible 
offices which Providence 
en. But there are none 
at prove advantageous; 
dividual in that degree 
spensable duties of his 
would be considerably 
refined and vivid plea 
\ entirely derived; and 
tne eieirani ana ov« meir cnoicesi beauties to a taste for 
the nature. Painting and sculpture are 

ex] visible objects : and where would be 

the cimrws ui uuwry, if divested of the imagery and em- 
bellishments which she borrows from rural scenes ? Pain- 
ters, statuaries, and poets, therefore, are always ambitious 
to acknowledge themselves the pupils of nature ; and, as 
their skill increases, thev crow more and more delighted 
with every vi and vegetable world. But 

the pleasure liration is transient ; and to 

cultivate taste its influence on the passions 

and affections, - is to rear a ireo for its blossoms which is 
.capable of yielding the richest and most valuable fruit" 
Physical and moral beauty bear so intimate a relation to 
each other, that they may be considered as different grada- 
tions in the scale of excellence ; and the knowledge and 
relish of the former should be deemed only a step to the 
nobler and more permanent enjoyments of the latter. 

Whoever has visited the Leasowes, in Warwickshire, must 
have felt the force and propriety of an inscription which 
meets the eye at the entrance into these delightful grounds :— 
u Would yon, then, taste the tranquil scene ? 
Be sure your bosom be serene ; 
Devoid of hate, devoid of strife, 
Devoid of all that poisons life : 
And much it 'vails you, in this place 
To graft the love of human race." ^ 

Now, such scenes contribute powerfully to inspire that 
serenity which is necessary to enjoy and to heighten their 
beauties. By a sweet contagion the soul catches the harmony 
which she contemplates ; and the frame within assimilates 
itself to that which is without For 

" Who can forbear to smile with nature ?/« 

Can the strong passions in the bosom roll - k 

While every gale is peace, and every grove 
Is melody?" • 

In this state of composure we become susceptible of vs 
tuous impressions from almost every surrounding object : 
an equal and extensive benevolence is called forth into 
exertion ; and having felt a common interest in the grati- 
fications of inferior beings, we shall be no longer indifferent 
to their sufferings, or become wantonly instrumental in 
producing them 

It seems to be the intention of Providence that the lower 
order of animals should be subservient to the comfort, con- 
venience, and sustenance of man. But his right of dominion 
extends no further; and if this right be exercised with 
mildness, humanity, and justice, the subjects of his power 
will be no less benefited than himself; for various species 
of living creatures are annually multiplied Ifr^iuman art, 
improved in their perceptive powers by humdfiraulture, and 
plentifully fed by human industry. Tne relation, therefore, 
is reciprocal between such animals and man ; and lie may 
supply his own wants by the use of their labour, the produce 
of their bodies, and even the sacrifice of their lives ; whilst 
he co-operates with ail-gracious Heaven in promoting hap- 
piness, the great end of existence. 



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But though it he true that "partial evil, with respect to 
different orders of sensitive beings, may he universal good, 
and that it is a wise and benevolent institution of nature, to 
make destruction itself, within certain limitations, the cause 
of an increase of life and enjoyment; yet a generous person 
will extend his compassionate regards to every individual 
that suffers for his sake ; and whilst he sighs 

" Even for the kid, or lamb, that pours its life 
Beneath the bloody knife," 
he will naturally be solicitous to mitigate pain, both in 
duration and degree, by the gentlest mode of inflicting it 

I am inclined to believe, however, that this sense of 
humanity would soon be obliterated, and that the heart 
would grow callous to every soft impression, were it not for 
the benignant influence of the smiling face of nature. The 
Count de Lauzun, when imprisoned by Louis XIV. in the 
Castle of Pignerol, amused himself, during a long period of 
time, with catching flies, and delivering them to be devoured 
by a rapacious spider. Such an entertainment was equally 
singular and cruel, and inconsistent, I believe, with his 
former character and subsequent turn of mind. But his 
cell had no window, and received only a glimmering light 
from an aperture in the roof. In less unfavourable circum- 
stances, mav we not oresume that, instead of snortiner with 
misery, h 

them enj 
But tin 

purposes 

cultivatioi 

and exalt 

and love < 

sublime, i 

are hard] 

arises froi 

and order 

of piety i 

is in unis 

divine ins 

glowing w 

versal cho 

expressive 

" W num uuiurc » wuriui cuu liuuiji, wuu vjuki uumnv 

Hold converse ; grow familiar, day by day, 
With his conceptions ; act upon his plan, 
And form to his the relish of their souls." 



undertaken by some benevolent individual. The num- 
ber of ladies who devote themselves to this duty consi- 
derably exceeds that of the gentlemen. The recom- 
•mendation most urged by the visitors is the exercise of 
frugality. The industrious poor are exhorted to save, at 
a time when they have the power of doing so — thus 
reserving to themselves the means of obtaining the enjoy 
ment of such comforts as they could not otherwise pro- 
cure, at periods when their exertions produce to them less 
profit. As an inducement to prefer the future good to 
the present gratification, a small addition from the funds 
of the society is made to the savings of individuals. 

The visitors receive deposits, however small — enter 
these sums in a buok — and pay them over to the trea- 
surer. The depositors feel that they may have their 
money at any moment they think proper to call for it, 
unchecked in their demand, save by the moral restraint 
which would prevent, them from requiring it for vicious 
or wasteful occasions. Deposits are returned either in ' 
money or in such articles as are wanted by those receiv- 
ing them, the small gratuity already noticed being always ' 
j..i_ _ji j rjp| le num ber of depositors, and the sums 
have been gradually increasing. Many of 
sitors have, at various times, candidly con- 
e visitors, that but for their interference and 
thus afforded to them for saving, their mdney 
been spent on things useless in comparison 
:om forts which frugality has enabled them to 



DISTRICT SOCIETY OF BRIGHTON'. 
Among the numerous benevolent schemes and institu- 
tions formed by the wealthy to assist their poorer 
brethren, many may no doubt be found, which instead 
of being beneficial are pernicious in their effects — pal- 
sying the hand of industry, and destroying the sense of 
independence by mere almsgiving. All those societies, 
however, which give motives for industry, and which 
lend to create a sympathy and union between the two 
classes of those who have abundance and those who 
want, must be of moral benefit to both parties, and few 
can doubt their practical utility. 

The following is a slight sketch of a Society which 
appears eminently to combine the above advantages. 

About five or six years back " The District Society" 
was formed at Brighton, in consequence of the sugges- 
tions of that benevolent lady, Mts. Fry. The purport 
of this association was, that its members should visit the 
poor at their own houses — affording them assistance 
where required, and encouraging in them habits of in- 
dustry and frugality. The idea was eagerly seized by 
those of the inhabitants whose activity and influence 
were best able to promote thisjDbjcct, and in a very short 
time the society was established. 

This society is divided into three departments — the 
mendicity department — the relief depart ment-~-and the 
department for the encouragement of frugality and 
saving. It is not our intention at present to touch upon 
the first or second of these, but to confine ourselves 
solely to the latter object. 

Thttown is divided into six districts, and each dis- 
trict into about twelve divisions. To each of these divi- 
sions a visitor is appointed, and this office is voluntarily 



n was a sum of money distributed among 

lad a right to it — who were under no obli- 

ay one, farther than that which is incurred 

s interest themselves in our welfare. While 

are enjoy the comforts thus obtained, they 

proud satisfaction, that these are not doled 

by means of the poors' rates, nor adminis- 

;m by the hand of charity, but are derived 

from their own savings, and result from their own 

industry, prudence, and forbearance. 

This feeling of independence thus called forth, raises 
man in the scale of being; and an institution which fos- 
ters or awakens this ennobling sentiment, offers, besides 
all other claims to merit, a sufficient proof of its great 
value. 

The above outline has been given in the hope that its 
consideration may prove of general utility. 

That class of labourers whose earnings are the least 
profitable, generally earn more in the summer than in 
| the winter, while their expenses* during the latter season 
>are always the greatest. It is then during the former 
period that the prudent labourer would lay by to meet 
the increased demands at the latter time. If a person 
can only get twelve shillings per week during the winter 
months, and fourteen shillings per week during the sum- 
mer, since he can live much better on twelve shillings 
per week in summer than on fourteen shillings per week 
in winter, he would act wisely to lay by two or three 
shillings weekly at the one time, and thus provide for 
the> deficiencies of the other. But he may ask, how is 
. this to be effected ? — helms no "district society" in his 
neighbourhood — no kind visiting friend to remind him 
of the propriety of saving, and to receive his small de- 
posits. The savings' bank is at some distance — it is 
inconvenient to send there — it requires time, and is 
therefore expensive to be constantly, going there* him- 
self—in short, a thousand reasons will always suggest 
themselves as excuses for not doing at ail what is not 
done with hearty good will. But to save money it must 
be put as much beyond our reach as possible — it will burn" 
in our pockets, and will be got rid of somehow or other. 
What then is to be done? We remember when we were 
young possessing a small earthenware pot with only a 
slit in it for an opening, and so constructed that whatever 
was put in could not be got out again without destroy 



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[July 14, 1834. 



ing the pot. This was the receptacle for our spare money, 
and whenever any temptation was felt to spend the 
little saving, the circumstance of being obliged to break 
the jar previously to appropriating its contents, always 
induced us to pause for reflection. The result of such 
deliberation generally showed that the money -was about 
trj have been expended uselessly, and that it would be 
much better to leave the pot whole, and to go on putting 
in instead of taking out The benefit of this prudent 
determination was ultimately reaped, at a time when it 
was most acceptable. We would recommend a plan 
somewhat similar to this to those who are desirous of 
constantly making small savings. A tin box might be 
made at a very small cost, with a lock and key to it, and 
% slit at the top, large enough to put any sized piece of 
money into it, and a piece of cloth so placed in the 
inside as to act like a valve, affording ingress, but not 
egress, to the coins. . This box should be locked, and 
the key intrusted to some one to whom the pos- 
sessor would not like to apply on trivial occasions. It 
should be put in a safe place, but where it might often 
meet the eye, and should be looked upon as a friend 
who will furnish a supply of extra comforts during winter 
time. But as it is not Fortunatus' purse, which we 
read of in fairy tales as abounding with an exhaustless 
fund,llt must receive its supply from the practice of self- 
denial, by withholding from oneself any unnecessary 
gratifications when the means of procuring them are at 
hand, and slipping the money that was to purchase these 
in the slit of the box. 

This box then may stand in lieu of a visitor of the 
Pistrict Society ; and every time anything is put into 
it, H may be considered as a friend ready to. afford its 
assistance in the time of sickness, in the hour of dis- 
tress, or during those periods when expenses are greatest 
and wages least. 



LYCIDAJ3. 



One of the most beautiful minor poems of Milton, 
though slightly obscure in some passages from the use 
of antiquated phrases, and in one instance strongly im- 
bued with the author's political feelings, is his Monody 
of Lycidas. This was written in Milton's 29th year, on 
the occasion of the untimely death of his friend, Mr. 
John King, who was drowned in the passage from 
England t# Ireland. The character of the poem is 
pastoral, It being assumed that the author and his 
lamented friend were brother shepherds : — 

" For we were nurst upon the self-same hill ; 
Fed the same flock by fountaiu, shade, and rill. 
Together both, ere th^hieh lawns appeared 
Under 'the opening eye-lids of the morn, 
We drove a-Aeld, and both together heard 
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 
Batt'ning our flocks with the fresh dews of mght 
Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 
Toward Heav'ns descent had slop'd his wearing wheel." 

The complaint of the poet on the shortness of life, 
and the glowing reply of Phoebus to his lamentation, is 
one of the finest passages in the whole compass of 
English verse : — 

" Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
(That last infirmity of noble mind) 
To scorn delights, and live laborious, days ; 
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
And think to burst out into sudden blase, 
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears, 
And slits the thin grain life. But not the praise, 
Phoebus rcplyM, and touch'd my trembling ears ; 
Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soS, 
Nor m the glist'ring foil 
Set off to th» world, nor in broad rumor lies, 
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes. 
And perfect witness of aU^udging Jove: 
As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
Of so much fame in heav'n expect thy meed.* 



But Milton's soul was nourished with the hopes of thsj 
Christian, as well as excited with the ambition of the 
poet ; — and thus the monody finely concludes with an 
eloquent expression of the only real consolation under 
every such calamity:— 

u Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more, 

For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, • 

Sunk though he be beneath the wat*ry floor ; 

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 

And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 

Through the dear might of him that walkM the w a vcB» 

Where other groves and other streams along, 

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 

And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 

In, the blest kingdoms meek of joy and lore. 

There entertain him all the saints above, 

In solemn troops and sweet societies, 

That sing, and singing in their glory more, 

And wipe the tears for ever from his eyea. M 



[Lycidas. From a design by Fuseli.] 



That sanctity which settles on the memory of a great 
man, ought, upoa a double motive, to he vigilantly sus- 
tained hy his courVtymen ; first, out of gratitude to him, as 
one column of the national grandeur ; secondly, with a 
practical purpose of transmitting, unimpaired, to posterity 
the benefit of ennobling models. High standards of excel- 
lence are among the happiest distinctions by which the 
modern ages of the world have an advantage over earlier, 
and we are all interested by duty as well as policy in .pre- 
serving them inviolate.— From a Memoir of Milton in « The 
Gallery of Portraits.' 



This liberty in conversation (fiction and exaggeration) 
defeats its own end. Much of the pleasure and all the 
benefit of conversation depends upon our opinion of the 
speaker s veracity.— Paley's Moral Philosophy. 



%• The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge U at 
59, LincolnVIno Fields. 



LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 

Shepkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied IFholesale by the feKewissf 
Bookseller t, of whom, also, any of the previous If umbers may be had. 



London, Groombrtdoe, Panyer Alley, 

Paternoster Row. 
Bath* Simms. 
Birmingham, Drake. 
Bristol, Wnnn and Co. 
Carlisle* Thurkam ; and Scott. 
Derby, Wilkins and So*. 
Doncaster, Brooke and Co. 
Falmouth, Phil*. 
Hull, STKranrtoK. 
Leeds, Baxnka and Neweoms. 



Lincoln, Brooke and Soke. 
Liverpool, Wiu.mer and Smith 
Manchester, Robinson ; and Webb and 

Simms. 
Newcastle. »pon-Tyne, Charnley. 
Norwich, Jarrold and Son. 
Nottingham, Wrioht. 
Sheffield. Ridoe. 
Dublin, Wake maw. * 

Edinburgh, Oliver and Botb, 
Glasgow, Atkinson and Co. 



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[July 21, 1832- 



WESTMINSTER HALL. 



Tnt ground now 'occupied by the Houses of Lords and 
Commons and the surrounding buildings was the site of 
the first palace which the kings of England had in Lon- 
don, or rather in Westminster, which was then a village 
entirely disjoined from London. Here the Confessor 
resided ; and here also the Conqueror kept his court, sur- 
rounded by his Norman batons and all the stem magni- 
ficence of feudal state. The first Westminster Hall was 
erected by William Rufus, as an addition to this palace. 
It was intended to serve as the royal banqueting-room ou 
high festival days and other special occasions of rejoicing. 
Rufus held his Whitsuntide feast here in 1099, in a style 
of extraordinary sumptuousness and splendour. Several 
other entertainments are mentioned by our old historians 
as having been given in the same place by succeeding 
monarchs. Among these, two that were given by Henry 
III. were especially remarkable. On New-Year's Day, 
1286, that king assembled a crowd of poor men, women, 
Vol. I. 



and children, to the number of six thousand, and 
caused them to be feasted, some in the Hall and the rest 
in the other apartments of the palace. If this entertain- 
ment, however, was memorable for the multitude of the 
guests, the next was still more so for the quantity of the 
victuals. It took place in the year 1248, on the mar- 
riage of his Majesty's brother, Richard, Earl of Corn- 
wall ; and the dishes which were set upon the festive 
board are said to have been thirty thousand in num- 
ber. Maitland, however, the historian of London, who 
seems to have investigated this matter with curious ac- 
curacy, although we cannot conceive how he contrived 
to arrive at so very precise a judgment, demurs to this 
account, assuring us that " if we admit the dishes to 
have been each but a foot in diameter, the present Hall, 
which is much bigger than that in the time of Henry 
III., would (exclusive of company) only contain fifteen 
thousand and jbrty-eight of such dishes !" By way of 



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aiding in the settlement of so grave a question, we 
would suggest, as a mere possibility, that all the dishes 
may not have been presented at once ; there may have 
been more courses than one. 

Rufus' Hall, however, after it had stood for about 
three hundred years, showed such signs of decay that 
Richard II.. resolved to take it down, and rebuild it 
almost from the foundation. This accordingly he did, 
and the work was completed as it now stands in 1398, the 
money for the purpose having been obtained by a tax, im- 
posed on all foreigners residing in the kingdom. Besides 
restoring the Hall, Richard made other additions to the 
royal residence ; so that the whole building, on its 
completion, obtained the name of the New Palace, to 
distinguish it from the more ancient edifice to the south. 
Old and New Palace Yards still preserve, after the lapse 
of between four and five centuries, the memory of 
Richard's improvements. 

This thoughtless and unfortunate monarch was not 
destined to enjoy many days ofrevelry under the splen- 
did roof which he had thus reared. He kept only one 
Christmas feast in his new Hall — that of the year 1398. 
The old Chronicles generally notice the holding of this 
and two other feasts in the course of the year. Matthew 
Paris seldom omits to mention where they were held in 
the years of which he records the events. The impor- 
tance of such meetings was great under the feudal 
system ; all the prelates, earls, and barons were, by their 
tenures, obliged at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide 
tu%rttend their sovereign at the celebration of such fes- 
tivals, to deliberate on the affairs of the kingdom, and to 
assist in the administration of justice. At the Christ- 
mas feast of Richard II. the festivities lasted for several 
days, on each of which were slain and served up eighty 
oxen and three hundred sheep, besides a countless number 
of fowls, and other minor articles. The guests amounted 
to ten thousand persons, and the cooks to two thousand. 
Before another year he was led into the same Hall de- 
graded and in captivity, to make a formal resignation of 
his crown, before the assembled nobles of the land, into 
the hands of Henry of Bolingbroke. Shakspeare has 
given us this scene, worked up so as to afford a fine ex- 
hibition of the character of the fallen king. It is in di- 
rect allusion to the magnificence in which he had been 
wont to live within the very walls that now looked down 
upon his changed estate, that he exclaims, on contem- 
plating his features in the mirror which he had ordered 
to be Drought to him, — 

— — " O flattering fflass, 

Like to my followers in prosperity, 

Thou dost beguile me ! Was this face the face 

That eveiy day under his household roof 

Did keep ten thousand men ? " 

Since this period the Coronation feasts of our English 
kings have been commonly held in Westminster Hall. 
Parliaments have also occasionally sat here — and it is 
still the usual place for conducting such criminal trials 
as take place before the House of Peers. The trials of 
Warren Hastings and of Lord Melville are the latest 
instances of its having been employed for this purpose. 
Several persons condemned for high treason have also 
been executeS hi this Hall. 

Westminster Hall, however, has been especially fa- 
mous in modern times as the chief sanctuary of English 
justice, the place in which the supreme courts of law 
hold their ordinary sittings. Anciently the courts used 
to follow the king, and to be held wherever he happened 
to have his residence. It is in this way that the term, 
the Court, in one of its common acceptations, has come 
to signify the abode of the monarch. The old principle* 
of the law was, that causes should be decided by the 
king in person : hence the Court of Kings Bench was 
so called from its being distinguished by a bench, raised 
above the seats of the judges, on which the king took 
Kfr place.- Afterwards, by wha* lawyers call a fic- 



tion, the king, even although really absent, was still 
supposed to be present. But, in the first instance at 
least, attempts are always made in these cases, ana 
often at considerable inconvenience, to give the fiction 
something of the air of a truth ; and here it was thought 
that the pretence of the king being present in court, 
when he really was not, would not be felt to be so violent 
a falsehood, if the king, although not present, should 
yet be in the immediate neighbourhood. So it was ar- 
ranged, as we have said, that the judges should accom- 
pany the king wherever he went, and that the court 
should always be -held in the building which he made 
his residence. In course of time, however, the incon- 
venience of this rule was strongly felt ; and in the 13th 
century, soon after the commencement of the reign of 
Henry III., it was appointed that the courts, which had 
up to that time always accompanied the movements 
of the sovereign, should, for the future, be held, during 
certain specified periods of the year, in the great Hali 
of the Palace of Westminster, whether his Majesty should 
be at the time residing there or not*. In this state 
things have continued ever since. The Palace of West- 
minster ceased to be a royal residence in the year 1 532, in 
the reign of Henry VIII., exactly three centuries ago ; 
but the Courts of Chancery, of King's Bench, of Common 
Pleas, and of Exchequer, still hold their sittings in its 
venerable Hall, as they have done for upwards of five 
hundred years. 

The courts, however, are not now actually under 
the roof of the Hall as they used formerly to be. 
Those of Chancery and King's Bench were held, until 
within the last twelve years, In the Hall, at its upper 
end, on each side of the door leading to the Houses of 
Lords and Commons ; and in times not very far back 
they were neither covered in from view nor even enclosed. 
A plate of the appearance of the Hall during term time, 
which was first published about a hundred years ago, 
represents them in this state. From this plate, also, a~ 
copy of which is given in Mr..BrayIeys Londiniana, 
it may be seen that the sides of the Hall used in 
those days to be lined by shelves containing books, 
prints, mathematical instruments, and even articles of 
haberdashery and millinery, which were sold to pur- 
chasers, by both male and female dealers, from desks or 
stalls fixed before them on the floor below. It was in 
fact what we should now call a sort of bazaar. Some 
booksellers, arid even publishers, appear to have had no 
other shops than those which they kept here. These 
establishments, however, including even those of the 
seamstresses, with their " turnovers " and " ruffles," 
could scarcely have deformed the noble old Hall so much 
as the huge wooden erections which had occupied its 
east side for several years, until they were removed 
only a few months ago. Now that these incumbrances 
have been got rid of, the recent restoration of the grand 
northern entry, and the clearing away of the coffee- 
houses and other buildings which had- been run up 
against it, have left little more to be done in order 
to bring back the Hall to nearly the appearance 
which it presented when it was first erected by Richard 
II. Its magnificent roof, especially, formed of ribs of 
chesnut so interlaced as to produce the most ornamental 
and imposing effect, is still as entire as ever, with the 
exception that slates have been substituted for the lead 
by which it was anciently covered, and the weight of 
which it was thought might be injurious. This roof, 
elevated to the majestic height of ninety feet from the 
floor, is two hundred and seventy feet in length by 
seventy-four in breadth, and is not exceeded in its 
dimensions by any other in the world. There is one cir- 
cumstance winch prevents the fine proportions of the 
Hall being seen, as they were originally conceived by the 

* This was done by Magua Chart*, with regard to the Court of 
Common Pleat. 



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architect The floor has Men considerably raised to 
keep out the tide ; and thug a sacrifice of beauty has 
been unavoidably made to utility. 
- Jn front of the entry to Westminster Hall there stood 
in New Palace Yard, till it was pulled down about a 
century ago, a lofty stone bell-tower, of the erection 
of which the following curious account is given : " A 
certain poor man,-" says M ait land, referring to Coke's 
I nstitutes as his authority, " in an action of debt, 
being fined the sum of thirteen shillings and fourpence, 
Randolphus Ingham, Chief Justice of the Kings Bench, 
commiserating his case, caused the court-roll to be erased, 
and the fine reduced to six shillings and eightpeuce ; 
which being soon after discovered, Ingham was amerced 
in a pecuniary mulct of eight hundred marks; which 
was employed in electing the said bell-tower on the north 
side of the said enclosure, opposite Westminster Hall 
gate ; in which tower was placed- a bell and a clock, 
which, striking hourly, was to remind the judges in the 
Hall of the fate of their brother, in order to prevent all 
dirty work for the future. However, this fact seems to 
have been forgot by Catlyn, Chief Justice of the King's 
Bench in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, by his attempting 
the razure of a court-roll ; but Southcote, his brother 
judge, instead of assenting to this, plainly told him that 
he had no inclination to build a clock-house." 



ON THE MEANINGS OF WORDS.-No. 1. 

INTRODUCTORY. 

It has often occurred to us, in considering the subject 
of elementary education, that a great national benefit 
would be effected, if any way could be contrived of 
teaching children the meaning of what they read. We 
allude more particularly to that class of children whose 
instruction is confined to the English language. The 
exact appreciation of the meanings of words is indeed 
not very generally acquired even by those who receive a 
more expensive education ; but still, from the practice 
of learning a little Latin and Greek, or a modern lan- 
guage, such as French or German, they are naturally 
led to compare many words and modes of expression in 
the acquired language with corresponding terms in their 
own. And this practice of comparing words in different 
. languages, even if carried only to a small extent, tends 
to form a habit of more carefully investigating the pre- 
cise signification of words, and of exercising a more 
sound and critical judgment on all that a man reads or 
hears. In short, it is one of the preservatives against 
our being deceived by superficial instruction, or wordy 
sophistry, whether found in books, or proceeding fiom 
the mouth of one invested with authority. 

We do not intend to say that a study of the meanings 
of words can be considered as a substitute for the study 
of things. But we think that young children, and even 
boys of a more advanced age, may be often led to a 
careful consideration of all that they hear and see, by 
being trained to a comparison of words one with 
another, and by being required to define the meanings 
of such as occur in their regular lessons. The youthful 
studies of this country are in general only a superficial 
study of words; and this assertion is equally true of 
those who can afford to learn Latin and Greek, and of 
those who never advance beyond their native tongue. 

Our object at present is simply to improve the educa- 
tion of the latter class, by recommending some changes 
in the present modes of instruction, which may possibly 
lead in time to a considerable alteration in the whole 
system. Instead of attempting a complete change at 
once, it is often a more practical mode to take things as 
they are and to try to mend them. As words, then, and 
words only are the material on which most children are 
now employed, we will endeavour to show how the study 
of words may be turned to some account. 



The first step on the road of improvement is to 
choose reading lessons for the cniidren, that shall con- 
tain plain and correct descriptions of the natural pheno- 
mena of most ordinary occurence, of the ar^s and 
manufactures of their own country, geographical and 
topographical descriptions, with little dramatic pieces, 
and tales that shall inculcate the value of industry, the 
love of truth, and an honourable desire of improving 
their condition. We, disapprove of that plan which 
makes the Bible the sole text in many charity-schools ; 
for while we think the Holy Scriptures ought to form a 
part of the school course, we believe that the exclusive 
use of them, particularly in the way in which they are 
often read, sometimes produces an effect very different 
from that which the benevolent supporters of the systein 
anticipate. We are glad to learn that it is now becoming 
the practice in many well-conducted schools, to question 
the children on the meaning of what they read ; to make 
them relate in their own words the lesson they have 
gone over with the master ; to give the explanation 
of the more difficult words ; and to collect examples 
of various words, which in shape and signification re- 
semble those they have met with in the lesson. Thus, 
for instance, when the word to quicken occurs, fhe words 
to deepen, to lengthen, to sharpen, may be compared with 
it, from which it will be seen that these verbs respectively 
signify to make the thing, of which we are speaking, quick, 
deep, long, or sharp. When the boy meets with the 
word !//fsafe, he wHl be directed to compare with it 
suth words as, untrue, uneven, unworthy ; and he will 
readily perceive and remember that all those words have 
a signification exactly the reverse of safe, true, even., and 
worthy. It is our object to show how this kind of in- 
struction may be extended and successfully adopted even 
by the most .humble teacher ; and for this purpose we 
have prepared a short series of articles in which our sole 
aim will be to make ourselves understood by all, without 
presuming to add in the slightest degree to the know- 
ledge of the learned few. 



In surveying the great works of antiquity, such as the 
pyramids of Egypt and other ancient monuments of art, 
careless observers are apt to consider the works of modern 
times as puny and insignificant. They are under a mistake 
— the works of the ancidnts, and of our ancestors in many 
instances, were either misapplications of labour and capital, 
or ignorance of the objects on which to employ them usefully. 
London has been paved, for the last fifty years, with granite 
brought from Scotland. If the stones and labour employed 
in that useful work had been applied in the erection of 
pyramids, would not those of London have been as stupend- 
ous as the Egyptian ? and yet we daily tread our pavement 
without reflecting what a work it has been to form and keep 
it in repair. A calculation of the number of acres in our ' 
vast metropolis, covered with pavement, and of the quantity 
of stone necessary for its formation and repair during the 
above period, would present a very curious result 



Trade and Manufacture— Sunpose a country, X, with 
three manufactures, as Cloth, iRlk, and Iron, supplying 
three other countries, A, B, C, but is desirous of increasing 
the vent, and raising the price of cloth in favour of her own 
clothiers. 

In order to this she forbids the importation of foreign 
cloth from A. 

A, in return, forbids 'silks fiom X. 

Then the silk-workers complain of a decay of trade. 
And X, to content them, forbids silks from B. 

B, in return, forbids iron ware from X. 
Then the iron-workers complain of decay. 
And X forbids the importation of iron from C. 

C, in return, forbids cloth from X. 
What is got by all these prohibitions ? 

Answer. — All four find their common stock of the enjoy 
ments and conveniences of life diminished* 

Franklin. 
X 2 



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COTTON. 



^Cotton — Qotsypium hcrbacevm.] 

There are many species of the cotton plant, and their 
number is being constantly increased by the researches 
of botanists, while their varieties appear scarcely to have 
any limit. To the cotton planter it is a matter of much 
interest to become acquainted with all these distinctive 
varieties, as some are incomparably more valuable than 
others, in the quantity and quality of their produce. 

The Gossypium herbaceum, or common herbaceous 
cotton plant, is the species most generally cultivated. 
This species divides itself into annual and perennial 
plants. The first is herbaceous, rising scarcely to the 
height of eighteen or twenty inches. It bears a large 
yellow flower with a purple centre, which produces a 
pod about the size of a walnut. This, when ripe, bursts; 
and exhibits to view the fleecy cotton, in which the 
seeds are securely imbedded. It is sown and reaped 
like corn ; and the cotton harvest in hot countries is 
twice, — in colder climates, once, in the year. This species 
is a native of Persia, and is the same which is grown so 
largely in the United States of America, in Sicily, and 
in Malta. There is another species of herbaceous cotton 
which forms a shrub of from four to six feet high. 



[Ti* Cotton— Govypiwrn arbortmmj 



* The Gossypiuiii ai-boreum, or tree cotton, is of much 
larger growth. If left without being pruned to luxuriate 
to its full height, it has sometimes attained to fifteen or 
twenty feet. The leaves grow upon long hairy foot- 
stalks, and are divided into five deep spear-shaped lobes. 
This shrub is a native of India, Arabia, and Egypt 

Another species is distinguished by the name of 
Gossypium religiosum. No reason is assigned why 
Linneeus should have bestowed on it so singular a title. 
It is cultivated in the Mauritius. There are two varieties 
of this species , in the one the cotton is extremely white, 
in the other it is of a yellowish brown, and is the material 
of which the stuff called nankeen is made; it may 
therefore be presumed that this species is a native of 
China, whence nankeen cloths are obtained. 



[Shrubby Cotton— Go$$ypium rt!i$io$*m.] 

Of all the species the annual herbaceous plant yields 
the most valuable produce. The " sea-island cotton," 
imported into England from Georgia, bears a price 
double to that imported from any other country. 

The quantity of cotton which each plant yields is as 
various as its quality. Accordingly there are scarcely 
two concurrent opinions to be collected on this subject, 
The average produce per English acre is reckoned by 
different writers at various quantities, varying from one 
hundred and fifty to two hundred and seventy pounds 
of picked cotton. 

The cotton plant will grow in most situations and 
soils, and is cultivated with very little trouble or ex- 
pense. According to Humboldt, the larger species 
which attain to the magnitude of trees require a mean 
annual temperature of 68° Fahrenheit ; the shrubby kind 
may be cultivated with success under a mean temperature 
of 60° to 64°. The plant is propagated by seed. 

When the season has been favourable, the cotton is 
in general fit for pulling about seven or eight months 
after it has been sown. s This period is, however, well 
indicated by the spontaneous bursting of the capsule or 
seed-pod. The plantations at this time present a very 
pleasing appearance. The glossy dark green leaves 
finely contrast with the white globular forms pronisely 
scattered over the tree. In the East the produce Is 
gathered by taking off the whole of the pod. In other 
parts, and this is the more general practice, the seeds 
and cotton are taken away, leaving the empty husk*. 
The first is of course much the most expeditious method, 
but it has a very serious disadvantage. The outer 
part breaks in minute pieces and thus ^nixes with the 
cotton, which cannot be freed from it without much time 
and difficulty. Whichever method is pursued this ' 



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is always performed in the morning before sunrise, as 
soon as possible after the cotton displays itself, bectfuse 
long exposure to the suu injures its colour. The cotton 
shrub does not in general last more than, five or six 
years in full or productive bearing; the plantation is 
therefore generally after that period renewed. 



[Cotton, showing a pod bursting.] 

The separation of the cotton from the seeds is a 
very long and troublesome operation, when performed 
by the hand ; for the fibres of the cotton adhere tena- 
ciously to the seed, and some time is consumed in 
cleansing even a small weight of so light a material. 
In the greater part of India, the use of machinery for 
this purpose is unknown, and all the cotton is picked 
by hand. A man can in this manner separate from 
the seeds scarcely more than one pound of cotton in a 
day. The use of the machine called a gin very much 
facilitates the process. This machine in general consists 
of two or three fluted rollers set in motion by the foot 
in the manner of a turning-lathe, and by its means one 
person may separate and cleanse sixty-five pounds 
•per day, and thus, by the use of a simple piece of 
machinery, increase his effective power sixty-five times. 
But a still greater increase may be obtained by the 
employment of more complex engines. In the United 
States of America mills are constructed on a large 
scale, and which are impelled by horses, steam, or 
other power. Eight or nine hundred pounds of cotton 
are cleansed in a day by one of these machines, which 
requires the attendance of very few persons. 

Entirely to cleanse the cotton from any remaining 
fragments of seed, it is subjected to another process. 
This consists in whisking it about in a light wheel, 
through which a current of air is made to pass. As it 
is tossed out of this winnowing machine it is gathered 
up and conveyed to the packing-house, where, by means 
of screws, it is forced into bags, each when filled 
weighing about three hundred pounds. These are then 
sewed up and sent to the place of shipment, where they 
are again pressed and reduced to half theiroriginal size. 

Before the invention of spinning machinery in 1787, 
the demand for cotton-wool in England was compara- 
tively small. In the 17th century we obtained our trifling 
supply wholly from Smyrna and Cyprus, and when we 
were even receiving it from our own colonies, we find 
M>*t from 1763 to 1787 the average annual import was 



barely four n illions of pounds. In 1786 we imporfeo 
19,900,000 pounds; viz. 5,800,000 pounds from the 
British West Indies; 9,100,000 from the French, 
Spanish, Portuguese, and Dutch Colonies ; and 5,000,000 
from Smyrna and Turkey. 

The average annual import for the last six yeais has 
been 777,372 packages— each bale weighing about 
2£or3cwt. ...... * 

Of 227,760,000 lbs. of cottonwool imported into the 
United Kingdom in 1828, 151,752,000 lbs. were from 
the United States; 29,143,000 lbs. from Brazil; 
32,18T,0001bs. from the East Indies; 6,454,000 lbs, 
from Egypt; 5,893,000 lbs. from the Brtish West 
Indies ; 726,000 lbs. fmm Columbia; and 471,000 lbs. 
from Turkey and Continental Greece. 

THE WEEK. 
July 22.— On this day, in the year 1707, was born at 
Maestricht in the Netherlands, the celebrated naturalist 
Pierre Lyonnet. He was originally educated for the 
church, and distinguished himself at school and college 
by the extraordinary facility with which he acquired 
many foreign languages, obtaining, it is : said, such a 
mastery over the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, Italian, 
Spanish, German, and English, as to know them almost 
as well as hij own. Lyonnet, when he grew up, aban- 
doned the church for the law, and eventually became 
Latin and French interpreter to the United Provinces. 
It was while he occupied this situation, which left him a 
good d