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THE 


PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF 


THE SOCIETY 


FOR THE 


‘DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 


18353. 


| LONDON : 
CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Sa ne a Ee ig SE ee 


Price 6s. in Twelve Monthly Parts, and 7s. 6d bound in Cloth, 


COMMITTEE. 


Chairman—The Right Hon. the LORD CHANCELLOR, F.R.S., Member of the National Institute of France. 
Vice-Chauirman—The Right Hon. SIR HENRY PARNELL, Eart., M.P. 


W. Alien, Fsq., F.R. and R.A.S. 

Rt. Hon. Vise. Althorp, M.P., Chancellor of 
tne Exchequer. 

W. B. Baring, Esq. M.P. 

Capt. F. Beaufort, R.N., F.R. and R.A.S.,, 
H ydrographer to the Admiralty. 

Sir C. Bell, F.R.S.L. and E. 

G. Burrows, M.D. 

C. Hay Cameron, Esq. 

The Rt. Rev. the Bislop of Chichester, D.D. 

Wiliam Coulson, Esq. 

R. D. Craig, Esq. 

Wm. Crawford, sq. 

J. Frederick Daniell, Fsq. F.R.S. 

Rt. Hon. Lord Chief Justice Denman. 

Lieut. Drummond, R.E., F.R.A.S., 

Rt. Hon. Vise. Ebrington, M.P. 

T. F, Elils, Esq., M.A., F.R.A.S. 

John Eltiotson, M.D., F.R.S. 


Anglesea—Rev,. E. Williams. 

Rev. W. Johnson. 

Mr. Miller. 

Ashburton—J. F. Kingston, Esq. 

Burnstaple.— — Bancraft, Esq. 

William Gribble, Esq. 

Bilston—Rev. W. Leigh. 

Birmingham—Rev.J.Corrie, F.R.S. Chairman. 
Paul Moon James, Esq., Treasurer. 
Jos. Parkes, Esq. , 
W. Redfern, Be. | 11 ONS 

Bonn—Leonard Horner, Esq., F.R.S.L & E. 

Bridport— Win. Forster, Esq. 

James Williains, Esq. 

Bristol—J. N. Sanders, Esq., Chairman, 
J. Reynolds, Esq., Treasurer. 

J.B. Estlin, Esy., F.L.S., Secretary. 
Bury St. Edmunds—B. Bevan, Esq. 
Calcutta—Lord Wm. Bentinck. 

Sir Edward Ryan. 

James Young, Esq. 

Cambridge—Rev. James Bowstead, M.A. 
Rev. Prof. Henslow, M.A. F L.S.&G.S, 
Rev. Leonard Jenyns, M.A., F.L.S. 
Rev. John Lodge, M.A. 

Rev. Geo. Peacock, M.A., F.R.S.& GS. 

Rev. Prof. Sedgwick, M.A, F.R.S. & G.S. 

Professor Smyth, M.A. 

Rey. C. Thirlwall, M.A. 

R.W.Rothman,Esq.,M.A. F.R.A.S.&G.S, 

Rev, George Waddington, M.A. 
Canterbury—Alexander B, Higgins, Esq. 

John Brent, Esq. 

Dr. Harry Wm. Carter, M.D., F.R.S.E, 

William Masters, Esq.. 

Cunton—J. F. Davis, Esq., F.R.S. 

Cardigan—Rev. J. Blackwall. 

Varnaurvon—h, A. Poole, Esq, 

William Roberts, Esq. 

vhester—Hayes Lyon, Esq. 

Dr. Cumming. 

Dr. Jones. 

Henry Potts, Esq. 

Dr. Thackery. 

Rey. Mr. Thorp. 

— Wardell, Esq. 

— Wedge, Esq. 

Chichester—John Forbes, M.D, F.R.S. 
Thomas Sanden, M.D. 

C. C. Dendy, Esq. 

Corfu—Jolin Crawford, Esq. 

Mr. Plato Petrides, 


Treasurer—WILLIAM TOOKE, Esq., M.P., F.R.S. 


LOCAL COMMITTEES. 


Thomas Falconer, Esq. 

I. L. Goldsmid, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S, 
B. Gompertz, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S. 
G. B. Greenough, Esq., F.R. and L.S. 
H. Hallam, Esq. F.R.S., M.A. 

M. D. Hill, Esq. M.P. 

Rowland Hill, Esq., F.R.A.S. 

Edwin Hill, Fsq. 

David Jardine, Esq., M.A. 

Henry B. Ker, Esq. 

Th. Hewitt Key, Esq., M.A. 

J.G.S. Lefevre, Esq. M.A. 

George C. Lewis, Esq., M.A. 

James Loch, Esq., M.P., F.G.S,. 
George Long, F:sq., M.A. 

J. W. Lubbock, Esq., F.R., R.A. and L.S.S, 
H. Malden, Esq. M.A. 

A. T. Malkin, Esq., DIA. 





Coventry—Arthur Gregory, Esq. 
Denbigh—John Madocks, Esa, 
Thomas Evans, Esq. 
Derby—Joseph Strntt, ksq. 
Devonport und Stonehouse—John Cole, Esq. 

— Norman, Esq. 

Lt. Col. ©. Hamilton Smith, F.R.S, 
Etruriu—Jos. Wedgwood, Esq. 
Exeter—Rev. J. P. Jones. 

J. Tyrrell, Esq. 

John Milford, Esq. (Coaver.) 
Glusgow—K. Finlay, Esq. 

Professor Mylne. 

Alexander McGrigor, Esq. 

Charles Tennant, Esq. 

James Cowper, Esq. 

Mr. T. Atkinson, Honorary Secretary. 
Glamorganshire— Dr. Malkin, Cowbridge. 

Rev. B. R. Paul, Lantwit. 

W. Williams, Esq., Aberpergwm. 
Gloucester—Samuel Bowley, Esq. 
Guernsey~-F. C. Lukis, Esq. 

Huli—J, C. Parker, Esq. 
Keiyhley, Yorkshire— Rev. T. Dury, M.A. 
Luunceston—Rev. J. Barfitt. 
Leamington Spa—Dr. Loudon, N1.D. 
Leeds—J Marshall, Fsq. 
Benjamin Gott, Esq. 
J. Marshall, Jun., Esq. 
TLewes—J. W. Woollgur, Esq. 
Liverpool Loe. As.—W. W. Currie, Esq. Ch, 

J. Mulleneux, Esq., Treasurer. 

Rev. W. Shepherd. 

J. Ashton Yates, Esq. 

Jiudlow—T. A. Knight, Esq., P.H.S. 
Muaidenhead—h. Goolden, Esq., F.L.5, _ 
Muidstone—Clement T. Smyth, Esq. 

John Case, Esq. 

Malnesbury—B. C. Thomas, Esq. 
Manchester Loc. As ~--G.W. Wood, Esq., Ch. 

Benjamin Heywood, Esq., Treasurer. 

T. W. Winstanley, Esq., Hon, Se 

Sir G. Philips, Bart., M.P. ; 

Benjamin Gott, Esq. 

Merthyr Tydvil—J, J.Guest, Esq. M.P 
Minchinhampton—Jolhn G. Ball, Esq. 
Monmouth—J. H. Moggridge, Esq. 
Neath—Jolin Rowland, Esq. 
Newcastle—James Losh, Esq. 

Rev. W. Turner. 


James Manning, Esq. 

J. Herman Meérivale, Esq., F.A.S. 

James Mill, Esq. 

W. H. Ord, Esq: Niel 

Dr. Roget, Sec. R.S., F.R.A.S. 

Rt. Hon. Lord John Russell, M.P., 
master to the Forces. 

Sir M. A. Shee, P.R.A., F.R.S. 

Rev. Richard Sheepshanks, M.A, 

J. Smith, Esq., M.P. 

John Taylor, Esq. F.R.S. 

Dr. A.V’. Thomson, F.L.S. 

N. A. Vigors, Esq., M.P. F.R.S, 

John Ward, Esq. 

H, Waymouth, Esq. 

J. Whishaw, Esq., M.A., F.R.S. 

John Wood, Esq. 

John Wrottesley, Esq., M.A. F.R.A.S. 


Pay- 


Newport, Isleof Wight—Ab. Clarke, Esq. 

T. Cooke, Jun., Esq. 

R. G. Kirkpatrick, Esq. 

Newport Pagnell—J, Millar, Esq. 
Newtown, Montgomeryshire—W, Pugh, Esq. 
Norwich—Rt. Hon. Lord Siffield. 

Richard Bacon, Esq. 

Oxford—Dr. Daubeny, F.R.S. Profs. of Chem. 

Rev. Prof. Powell 

Rev. John Jordan, B.A. 

Rev. R. Walker, M.A., F.R.S. 

E. W. Head, Esq., M.A. 

W.R. Browne, Esq., B.A. 

Penang—Sir B. H. Malkin. 
Plymouth—H, Woolltombe, Esq., F.A.S., 
Chatrman. 

Snow Harris, Esq., F.R.S. 

E. Moore, M.)D., F.L.S., Secretary, 

G. Wightwick, Esq 
Presieign— Dr. A. W. Davis, M.D. 
Rippon—Rev. H. P, Hamilton, M.A., F.RS, 

and G.S: 

Rev. P. Ewart, M.A, 
Ruthen—Rev. the Warden of. 

Humphreys Jones, Esq. 

Ryde, Isle of /Vight—Sir Rd. Simeon, Bart, 
M.P. 

Sheffield—J. H. Abraham, Esq. 

Shepton Mallet—G. F. Burroughs, Esq. 

Shrewsbury—R. A.Slaney, Esq., M.P. 

South Petherton—Jo\wn Nicholetts, Esq. 

St. Asuph—Rev. George Strong. 

Stockport—H. Marsland, Esq., Treasurer. 

Henry Coppock, Esq., Secretary. 
Tavistoch— Rev. W. Evans. 

John Rundle, Esq. 

Tunbridge Wells—Dr. Yeats, M.D. 
Warwiek—Dr. Conolly. 

The Rev, William Field, (Leamingten.) 
Waterford—Sir Jonn Newport, Bt, M.P. 
Wolverhamptun—J. Pearson, Esq. 
Worcester—Dr. Corbett, M.D 

Dr. Hastings, M.D, 

C. H. Hebb, Esq. 

Wrerhan—Thomas Edgworth, Esq. 

J. E. Bowman, Esq F.L.S., Treasurer 

Major William Lloyd. 

Yaurmouth—C, E, Rumbold, Esq., M.P. 

Dawson Turner, Esq. 

York—Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A. 


THOMAS COATES, Secretary, No, 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


Printed by Witutam Crowes, Duke-street, Lambeth. 





INDEX TO VOLUME II. 


Asrvuzzi, shepherds of the, 106. 

Abstraction, self, recommended, 176. 

Adam’s Peak, in Ceylon, 217. 

schylus, his tragedy of the Persians, 18. 

Be. —, his Prometheus Bound, 2. 

Africa, South, description of a settler’s cabin in, 
932. 

Africa, South, settlement of a British colony in, 
22. 

Agriculture, system of, in modern Greece, 239, 

Aix-la-Chapelle Cathedral, notice of, 105. 

Albert Durer, notice of, 118. 

Alfric, Earl of Mercia, account of his seal, 111. 

American Indians, deer hunting by, 375. 

American politeness, instances of, 195, 

Angerstein Gallery, pictures in the, 73. 

Anglo-Chinese Kalendar for 1833, 245. 

Arithmetical rules, simplifications of, 26, 54, 71, 
91, 190. 

Armenian Marriage, account of an, at Constanti- 
nople, 439. 

Aurora Borealis, described, 489, 





Bacon, Lord, biographical sketch of, 23. 

Bagdad, narrative of the plague of, in 183], 453. 

Bamboo, great utility of the, 61. 

Banks, Sir Joseph, statue of, 340. 

Bannockburn, account of the battle of, 234, 

Barberini Vase, formation of the, 8. 

Bass Rock, account of the, 265. 

Bath, abbey church of, 268. 

Battle Abbey, historical notice of, 211. 

Beads, poisonous nature of some, 211, 

Beaver, habits of the, 129. 

Beguine Nuns, the, account of, 315. 

Bible, the, its study recommended, by the example 
of eminent men, 139. 

Birds, swarins of insects devoured by, 279. 

Birds of Paradise, description of, 82, 

Black-cap, account of the, 216. 

Black teeth, strange predilection for, 176. 

Biarney stone, 64. 

Blind Alick of Stirling, notice of, 194, 

Boar-hunting, various instances of, 397, 

Book-binding, expianatory account of the pro- 
cess of, 511]. 

Books, slow production of, before the invention 
of printing, 417. 

Books, effect of sale on the price of, 19. 

Borneo, an entertainment at, described, 324. 

British Museum, the, number of visitors at, 310. 

—- —___—____—,, review of the, 337, 

Brnssels, hotel de ville of, 8. 

Burns, a remedy for, 14. 

Burrowing Owls, account of, 356. 


CACHEMERE GOAT, account of the, 361. 

Camel, the Arabian, description of, 116. 

Camplior tree, description of the, 144. 

Canterbury, historical notice of, 460, 

Capelin, description of the, 1485. 

Carlisic, the city of, described, 303. 

Cartoons; Death of Ananias, 75,—rcemarks of 
correspondents on tlie, 77. 

—, Paul preaching at Athens, 17. 

————-—-—-, the sacrifice at Lystra, 124. 

——_———,, St. Peter curing the cripple. 173. 

— , the miraculous dranght of fishes, 219, 

—, Elymas struck with blindness, 261, 

Cassowary, the, description of, 376. 

Castalia, historical account of, 273. 

Ceylon, account of a rebellion in, 196. 

Chain Pier at Brighton, description of, #64. 

Chamois, account of the, 449. 

Chelsea Hospital, description of, 92. 

Chestnut tree, the gigantic, 135. 

Chess-players, a village of, 216. 

Cingalese book, description of a, 216, 

Ciunamon tree, products of the, 402, 

Civilization, advantages of, 80, 

Clock, curious specimen of a, 264. 

Coal,in England, geological situation of, 427— 
Origin of, 450, 

Cocoa, account of the, 119. 

Coffee, mode of making, 498. 

Coleridge, his ** Vale of Chamouni,” 356. 

Cologne, historical notice of, 25, 

Colosseum in London, description of the, 121. 

Columbus and tlie egg, 272. 

mapnerce’s protective system of, in the Tyrol, 

Companion to the Almanac for 1833, 39. 

Compositor in a printing-office, various operations 
of a, 466. 

Condor, account of the, 183. 

Consumption, aud*similar diseases, observations 
on, 93. 

Corfu, diet of the inhabitants of, 315. 

, method of pressing oil in, 279. 

Corn, its use in England, 370. 

Cornnna, relation of the battle of, 15. 

Councils of trade, at Lyons, 83. 

















* Cranmer, Archbishop, biographical notice of, 103. 


Cressy, battle of, 326. 
Cromwell, dissolution of the Long Parliament 
by, 486. 


DAMPIER, William, adventures of, 414, 429, 434 

Daniel Defoe, biographical} astice of, 151. 

ce Traveller, narrative of a, 369, 323, 235, 366, 
0. 

Dodo, account of the, 209. 

Dogs, utility of, 259; St. Bernard. 45. 

Domestic habits, good results of, $2. 

Dover Castle, historical notice of, 57. 

Drunkenness, gradations of, 67. 

Durham Cathedral, historical notice of, 196. 


EDINBURGH Castle, historical notice of, 145. 

Education, general, proposed plan for, 120; Plu- 
tarch’s ideas on, 174. 

Egg-oven, account of an Egyptian, 31], 

Egina, notice of, 293. 

Egripos, modern town of, described, 169. 

Ehrenbreitstein Castle, historical notice of, 68. 

Elgin Marbles, notice of the, 4. 

Emigrants in Africa, 22, 28, 

Emiuence, its attainment by men of humble 
birth,.27/. 

Erysipelas, the pestilent, described, 352. 

Eschines, the orator, his style of eloquence, 117. 

Fskimaux dogs, account of, 109, 

Etna, eruption of, in 1832, 302. 

, Visit to the summit of, 357, 365. 

Fiton College, historical notice of, 441. 

Eubca, moderate price of land in, 247—advan- 
tageous as a seat of migration to foreign far- 
mers, 247—climate, soil, and productious of, 
247. 

Euripus, the channel of, 169. 

Eurotas, the river, acconnt of, 297. 

Exmouth, viscount, biographical notice of, 123, 





Factory, example of a well conducted, 445. 

Fashion, instances shewing the tyranny of, 416. 

Fata Morgana, account of this phenomenon, 3d], 

Fire of London, in 1666, account of the, 342. 

Flying, various modes of, in birds and fishes, 1], 

Forests in Sweden, conflagrations incidental to, 
243. 

Fountain of the Elephant at Paris, description 
of, 359. 

France, agricultural decline in, induced by uu- 
equal taxation, 258—penury of the nobles, 260, 


GALILEO, historical noticc of, 63. 
Gambling, pernicious effects of, 182. 
Geysers, the, descriptiou of, 473. 
Germany, infant asylums in, 32. 
Gladiator, the dying, statue of, 9. 

Globe theatre in the sixteenth century, 60. 
Goredale, cataract of, 189. 

Grain worms, mischief done by, 800, 324. 
Greece, emigration to, 239, 247. 
Greenwich, account of the observatory at, 308, 
Gustavus Vasa, events relating to, 59. 


HANDEL, historical notice of, 72. 

Hawks, ferocity of, 396. 

Hecla, mount, notice of, 495. 

Hemans, Mrs., her poem, the § Voice of Spring,’ 
D285. 

Hemp, cultivation of, 39. 

Ilerring Fishery, in various seas, 54, 

Hofwy!] institution, mode of instruction at, 389, 

Horse, instinct of the, 144. 

Hottentots, condition and character of tlic, 69. 

¥Iuman life compared to a river, 232. 

Hunter, John, a letter by, 279. 

Hymn to morning, 176. 


ICELAND, soil, produce and population of, 452; 
various particulars concerning, 4033. 

Icelanders, rational amusement of the, 135 ; their 
wonderful progress in kuowledge, 442, 443, 
492. 

Ichueumon, the, account of, 503. 

Icononzo, natural bridges of, 364. 

Tguanodon, the fossil, account Of, 2/. 

Italian letter-writers, 436. 

Italians, the wanderings of poor, 42, 61. 


JacQguarD Loom, historical notice of the, 13. 

Jacquard, Mr., persecuted for a great invention, 
14. 

Janc Grey, Lady, execution of, 55. 

Jupiter, statue of, by Phidias, 113. 


KENILWORTH CASTLE, description of, 84. 

Knox, Robert, account of his captivity in Ceylon, 
186, 193, 214. 

Knowledge, moderation in the pursuit of, recom- 
mended, 4; use of, 355. 

Krummacher, his “ Days of Creation,” 6, 


LABOUR, misapplication of, 438. 

Labourers of Europe: Portugal, 3; France, 2538 
475, 485. 

Lancasterian system in Grecce, 173. 

pete Te Caxton’s remarks on the changes of, 

Lapland stockings, 195. 

Legal age, when attained, 44, 

Leopard hunting, Ll. 

Liberia, account of the colony if, 26/7. 

Library for working men, a, 494. 

Lichens, brilltancy of some species of, 279, 

Lichfield Cathedral, description of, 97. 

Lincoin Cathedral, historical notice of, 132, 

Linnus, biographical notice of, 191. 

Lions, conflicts with, in Africa, 140, 

London, rapid improvement of, 278. 

London University, account of the, 379. 

Longevity, remarkable instances of, 222. 

Loudon, Mr., his work on Architecture, review 
of, 339. 


MAccARONI EATERS at Naples, 305. 

Machine-printing, explanatory account of, 509. 

eae Church, St., at Rouen, historical notice 
of, : 

Magna Charta, historical account of, 298, : 

Maid of Orleans, biographical account of the, 6. 

Manual alphabets, single and double handed, de- 
scribed, 499. 

ee noscript books, first produced by the monks, 

Marabouts of Africa, learning of the, 399, 

meget description of the famous plain of, 

Marco Polo, eastern travels of, 298, 317, 331, 349. 

Mary Queen of Scots, execution of, 46. 

Mechanics, schools for, in Bavaria, 139, 

Melrose Abbey, historical notice of, 241. 

Men of business, qualities of, 324. 

Metayer system in France, injurious effects of 
the, 259, 

Migration of fishes and birds, causc of the, 43}, 

Military surgeons in the sixteenth century, 176. 

Milton, his sonnet on his blindness, 240. 

Minera: Kingdom :—Great Britain, 10; outline 
of geological system, 19; rocks, 58, 86, 142, 
154; animals classified, 10! ; organic remains, 
178, 221, 244, 347, 362, 387, 394; coal, 410, 476, 
433, 491, 501. 

Minerals, natural alliance of vegetables with,176, 

Mineral waters, natural and artificial, 211. 

Mint, description of the, 73. 

Misers, the, picture of, at Windsor Castle, 497, 

Mocking-bird, account of the, 443. 

Moncontour and Ivry, battles of, 147. 

NMontfaucon, flaying establishments at, 354. 

ere his poemin on the death of a friend, 


Moou, astronomical appearances of the, 236, 

, her motions described, 262. 

» her influence on the weather, 270. 

, calculations relative to the, 256, 

Moore, his poem on ‘* My Birth-day,” 23, 

Ronse, singular account of a, 54. 

Mozart, biographical sketch of, 31. 

Mummy In Belzoni’s exhibition, address to, 48. 

Mutual instruction, recommended by a forcible 
example, 50. 

Mycene, ruins of the, 159. 











NATURAL WONDER, Curious account of a, 216. 

Iv¥eapolitans, their pride and.love of luxury shown 
by the general use of carriages, 329. 

Netley Abbey, historical notice of, 137. 

Wew River, benefits derived from the, 30. 

Newspapers, application of machine-printing to, 

Newspapers, introduction of, in England, 71; 
numbers published at different periods, 71; 
written, 123. 

Niobe, story of, 41. 

Worth Road, the great, description of, 289. 

Norwich city, historical notice of, 399, 

Notre Dame, cathedral of, at Paris, 65. 

OBSERVATORY, a public one suggested for Lone 
don, 371. 

Opossum, account of the, 431. 

Oppression, its ruinous effects on the character 
of u people, 240. 

Orang: outang, description of the, 156, 

Organic remains, principal species of, 409. 

Orphans, story relating to, 66. 

Ostricli of South Africa, notice of, 8, 


PALMYRA, historical notice of, 462, 481, 

Palcring, population of, 134—kind of life peculiar 
to the nobles, 134. 

Baper, consumption of, for the ‘Penny Magazine, 
384. 

Paper, invention of, 152, 


Paper-making, by hand, explanatory account of 
378. 

Pariah dog, attachment of a, 462. 

Parrots, varions species of, 494. 

Pascal, biographical notice of, 231. 

Passenger-pigeon, account of the, 401. 

Passion, the blindness of, ludicrously shown, 462. 

Pearl fishery of Ceylon, 174. 

Pelican, account of the, 279. 

Penn, William, his first treaty with the Indians, 
403. 

Penny Magazine, Commercial history of a, 377, 
417, 463, 505. 

Peter Botte mountain, ascent of the, 225. 

Peterborough cathedral, historical notice of, 177, 

Peter the wild boy, notice of, 170. 

Peter’s, St., at Rome, historical notice of, 333, 
457, 479. 

Physician, anecdote relating to an emincnt, 2U1. 

Plum-pudding, a foreigner’s description of, 173. 

Polar bears, description of, 100. 

Poor, the, domestic improvidence of, 271. 

Portugal, the common people compared with 
those of Spain, 3—rural dwellings, 3—neglected 
agriculture of, 4—population of, 4. 

—, opposite methods of educating the, 426. 

Post Office, London, business of tlie, 6. 

Tress-printing, explanatory account of, 506. 

Pringle, Mr., his poem “ Afar in the Desert,” 91, 

Printing, happy effects of, 431. 

Pronouns, personal, use of in different countrics, 
age 

Pronuuciation, as it relates to hard words, re- 
marks on, 43, 83. 

Proverbs, 307. 

Public walks, projected extcnsion of, 340, 

Pulque, preparation and use of, 440. 


QUAGEERY, ludicrous instances of, 135. 


RABBITS, maternal solicitude of, 144. 
Railway from Liverpool to Manchester, 161. 
Rainbow, reflections on the, 359. 

Regla, basaltic rocks and cascade of, 393. 
Rein-deer, Lapland, account of, 148. 
Remembrance, poem on, by Southey, 445. 
Richard, the liou-hearted, captivity of, 407. 


INDEX. 


Riagpnd castle, Yorkshire, historical notice of, 
53. 

Rochester, cathedral of, 388. 

, castle of, 412. 

, city of 367. 

Rocks, singular resemblances of, 60. 

Rome, style of horse-racing in, 420. 


nell 





SABBATH, in the wilds of Africa, 51. 

Salisbury cathedral, historical notice of, 233. 

Sait, its scarcity in Africa, 67. 

Salt lake, account of one, in Africa, 2. 

Saxe-Weimar, national education of, 96. 

Sea-iwweed banks, prodigious growth of, 278. 

Secretary-bird, account of the, 288. 

Selborne, White’s natural history of, 36. 

Sennacherib, poem on, 3). 

Serpent charming, by Indian Jugglers, 49, 131, 

Servants, dnties of, 326. 

Sheep, heedlessness of, 139. 

She-goats, children suckled by, 200. 

Sicily, description of, 133—vineyards of, 133. 

Simorre, the living statue, 13-. 

Singing, judgment of an ass as to, 144, , 

Small-pox, history of the, 149. 

Smut balls, account of the, 126, 

Smut or dust brand, 180. 

Somers, Lord, biographical notice of, 87. 

Southamptou bar-gate, notice of, 185. 

Spring, beauty of, 232. 

Statistical notes, British imports, 11]. 

, corn trade, 115. 

Stays, ill effects of tight, on female health and 
beauty, 77. 

Steam-engine, novel exhibition of a, 376. 

—~—. engines, power and cost of, 104. 

Stercotype process, explanatory account of, 470 

Strasburg cathedral, historical notice of, 313, 

St. Stephen’s church, at Vienna, historical notice 
Of, 340. 

Swedeu, bread used by the poor in, 454, 

——, summer evening and night in, 248. 


~ 




















TALIPOT-TREK of Ceylon, 257. 

Tantallon castle, historical notice of, 369. 
Tasso, historical notice of, 95, 

Temple-bar, notice of, 293. 

Theory aud practice, respective powcr of, 99. 


Tintern abbey, historical notice of, 270. 

Toad, opinions respecting the, 211, 

‘Tortoises, food of, 315. 

Toucans, description of the, 193. 

hs gambling, and robbing, difference of, 
478. 

Trajan’s Column, historical notice of, 385, 

Tranquillity, advantages of, 160. 

Travelling a century ago, 99. 

Trolthatta, account of the falls of, 275. 

Trout, varions species of the, 232. 

Ty pe-fonimling, explanatory account of, 421, 


UnitTen STatrres or AMERICA, review of Mr. 
Stuart’s work on the, 38. 

Upas tree, erroneous belief as to the, 321, 

Ursine baboon, account of the, 19, 

Utillty, real, illustrated, 44. 


VINE, the, its cultivation in the Tyrol, 267. 
Vintage, Redding’s remarks on the, 41). 
Violet, various colours and uses of the, 173, 
Virginia Water, description of, 52. 


Warton, Dr. his ** Hamlet,” 275. 

Water, capacity of different bodies for, 43S. 

Waves, velocity and magnitude of, 462, 

Weaving, Cingalese process of, 325. 

Wells cathedral, historical notice of, 433. 

Whale fishery, account of the, 201, 

Wild turkey, the, account of, 390. 

Winchester cathedral, historical notice of, 332. 

Windsor Castle, description and account of, 249, 

wae and Eton Public Library, establishment 
of, 3/3. 

Wolf, affection of a, 416. 

Wolf dogs, Italian, 200, 

Wolfe poem on the death of General Moore, 

W olves, destructiveness of, 396, 

W ood-cutting, explanatory account of, 417. 

Woolwich, royal arsenal at, 346. — 

Wordsworth, his “ first mild day of March,” 104, 

——_————-, his “ Banks of the Wye,” 285, 


k ork, historical notice of, 316. 
York Minster, historical notice of, 33, 
Ypres, historical notice of, 446 





THE PEN 


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{Tree Leopard at Bay.] 


Tus leopard of Southern Africa is known among the 
Cape colonists by the name of tzger; butis, in fact, the 
real leopard, the felis jubata of naturalists. It differs 
from the panther of Northern Africa in the form of its 
spots, in the more slender structure of its body, and in 
the legs not being so long in proportion to its size. In 
watching for his prey the leopard crouches on the 
eround, with his fore-paws stretched out and his head 
between them, his eyes rather directed upwards. His 
appearance in his wild state is exceedingly beautiful, his 
motions in the highest degree easy and e@raceful, and 
his agility in bounding among the rocks and woods quite 
amazing. Of this activity no person can have any idea 
by seeing these animals in the cages in which they are 
usually exlubited in Europe, humbled and tamed as they 
are by confinement and the damp cold of our climate. 

Lhe leopard is chiefly fouad in the mountainous dis- 
tricts of South Africa, where he preys on such of the 
antelopes as he can surprise, on young baboons, and on 
the rock badgers or rabbits. He is very much dreaded 
by the Cape farmers also, for his ravages among the 
flocks, and among the young foals and calves in the 
breeding season. 

The leopard is often seen at night in the villages of 
the negroes on the west coast; and being considered a 


sacred animal, is never hunted, though children and 
Vou". 


women are not unfrequently destroyed by him. In the 
Cape Colony, where no such respect is paid him, he is 
shyer and much more in awe of man. But though in 
South Africa he seldom or never ventures to attack man 
kind, exeept when driven to extremity (unless it be 
some poor Hottentot child now and then that he finds 
unguarded), yet in remote places, his low, half-smo- 
thered growl is frequently heard at night, as he prowls 
around the cottage or the kraal, as the writer of this 
notice has a hundred times heard it. His purpose on 
such occasions 1s to break into the sheep-fold, and in 
this purpose he not unfrequently succeeds, in spite of 
the troops of fierce watch-dogs which every farmer keeps 
to protect his flocks. 

The leopard, like the hyzna, is often canght in traps 
constructed of large stones and timber, but upon the 
same principle as a common mouse-trap. When thus 
caught, he is usnally baited with dogs, in order to train 
them to contend with him, and seldom dies without 
killing one or two of his canine antagonists. When 
hunted in the fields, he tstinetively betakes himself 
toa tree, if one should be within reach. Jn this sitna- 
tion it is exceedingly perilous to approach within reach 
of his spring; but at the same time, from his exposed 
position, he becomes an easy prey to the shot of the 
huntsman. 


B 


2 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The Sonth Afrizan leopard, though far inferior to 
the lion or Bengal tiger in strength and intrepidity, and 
thouch he usually shuns a conflict with man, ‘Is never- 
theless an exceedinely active and furious animal, and 
when driven to desperation becomes a truly formidable 
antagonist. ‘The Cape colonists relate many iustances 
of frightful and sometimes fatal encounters between 
the hunted leopard and his pursuers. The following is 
a specimen of these adventures. It occurred in 1522, 
when the present writer was in the interior of the colony, 
and is here given as it was related to him by an mdivi- 
dual who knew the parties engaged in it. 

Two African farmers, returning from hunting the 
hartebeest (antilope bubalis), roused a leopard in a 
mountain ravine, and immediately gave- chase to him. 
The leopard at first endeavoured to escape by clambering 
up a precipice; but being hotly pressed, and wounded 
by a musket-ball, he turned upon his pursuers with that 
frantic ferocity peculiar to this animal on such emergen- 
cies, and springing on the man who had fired at him, 
tore him from his horse to the ground, biting him at the 
same tiine on the shoulder, and tearing one of his cheeks 
severely with his claws. ‘The other hunter seeing the 
dauger of his comrade, sprang from his horse and 
attempted to shoot the leopard through the head; but, 
whether owing to trepidation, or the fear of wounding 
his friend, or the quick motions of the animal, he unfor- 
tunately missed. ‘The leopard, abandoning his prostrate 
enemy, darted with redoubled fury upon his second an- 
taronist, and so fierce and sudden was his onset, that 
before the boor could stab him with his hunting-knife, 
the savage beast struck him on the head with his claws, 
and actually tore the scalp over his eyes. In this fright- 
fil condition the hunter grappled with the leopard ; and, 
strugeling for life, they rolled together down a steep de- 
clivity. All this passed far more rapidly than it can be 
described in words. Before the man who had been first 
attacked conld start to his feet and seize his gun, they 
were rolling one over the other down the bank. In a 
miuute or two he had reloaded his gun, and rushed for- 
ward to save the life of his friend. But it was too late. 
The leopard had‘ seized the unfortunate man by the 
throat, and mangled him so dreadfully, that death was 
inevitable; and his comrade (himself severely wounded) 
had only the melancholy satisfaction of completing the 
destruction of the savage beast, already exhausted with 
the loss of blood from several deep wounds by the 
desperate knife of the expiring huntsman. 


A SALT LAKE IN SOUTH AFRICA. 


Tus lake, which lies in the midst of an extensive plain, 
elevated considerably above the level of the sea, is of an 
oval form, about three miles in circumference, and has 
on one side a sloping margin of green turf; on other 
parts, banks of greater elevation and abruptness are co- 
vered with continuous thickets of arboreous and succulent 
plants. At the time of our visit the whole of the lake 
round the margin, and a considerable portion of its 
citire surface, was covered with a thick rind of salt 
sprinkled over with small snow-white crystals, giving the 
Whole basin the aspect of a pond partially frozen and 
powdered over with hoar frost or flakes of snow. This 
wiutry appearance of the lake formed a singular contrast 
with the exuberant veeetation which embowered its mar- 
eins, where woods of beautiful evergreens and elegant 
acacias were richly intermingled with flowering shrubs 
and succulent plants of lofty size and strange exotic 
aspect,—such as the portulacaria afra (favourite food 
of the elephant), the tree crassula, the scarlet cotelydon, 
may species of the aloe, some throwing out their clus- 
ters of flowers over the brink of the lake, others elevat- 
ing their superb tiaras of blood-red blossoms to the 
height of twelve or fifteen feet; and, high over all 


[January 5 


eigautic groves of euphorbia, extending their leafless 
arms above the far-spread forest of shrubbery. The 
effect of the whole, flushed with a rosy tinge by the setting 
sun, was sincularly striking and beautiful. 

I did not attempt to examine the saline incrustation 
which, according to Mr. Barrow’s account, 1s said to ex- 
tend over the whole bottom of the lake; but I tasted the 
water, and found it as salt as brine. Of the various 
theories suggested by naturalists to account for the for- 
ination of this and similar lakes in South Africa, that 
which ascribes their origin to salt springs appears the 
most probable. 


AASCHYLUS. 


Tue subject of the Prometheus Bound of Atschylus is 
one of the noblest conceptions of the Atheniau drama, 
expressed in a language that will always give deliglit, and 
excite a sympathy in every congenial breast. Prome- 
theus, himself a God, the giver of the gift of fire to mor- 
tals, —the friend of man, who taught the shivering, starv- 
ing wretch the useful arts of life,—is bound down by the 
command of Jupiter to the snow-clad rocks of Scythia, as 
a punishment for his beneficent intentions. But thongh 
conquered, the spirit of the friend of humanity is not 
subdued. Stern, unyielding, unfearing, his noble nature 
braves the cruelty of his tyrant; and, far from bending to 
sue for mercy, he is ready to endure till, in the full- 
ness of time, the decrees of fate shall be accomplished, 
and Jupiter shall yield his throne to one mightier than 
himself. 

Old Ocean, who comes to console him in his misfor- 
tunes, and offers to be the bearer of a petition to Jupiter 
in his favour, is answered thus: 

Prometheus.—{ commend thy good intentions, and I 
will never cease to do so; for in zeal thou art not Jack- 
ing. But trouble not thyself, for all in vain, and all 
bootless to me, will thy labour be,—labour thou ever so 
much. Be quiet, and keep thyself out of harm’s way; 
for if I am wretched, I do not therefore wish to have 
others to share my miseries. No: already I grieve 
enough for the sorrows of my brother Atlas, who stands 
in the regions of the west, the pillar of heaven and earth, 
bearing on his shoulders no easy weight. I have seen, 
and pitied too, the earth-born dweller in the caverns of 
Cilicia, the prodigious giant, hundred-head impetuous 
Typhon, by force subdued, who opposed all the Gods, 
spouting forth blood with horrid mouth; and from his 
eyes he flashed a terrific light, as if he would overturn 
the sovereignty of Jupiter. But Jove’s sleepless bolt 
descended on him—the down-rushing lightning breathing 
forth flame—and beat him from his high-flown boastings. 
Struck to the innermost seat of life, his strength was re- 
duced to ashes, and his power was destroyed by the 
thunder. And now he lies a withered and outstretched 
carease, near the narrow straits of the sea, baked beneath 
the roots of Aitna: On the summit Vulcan sits, and 
forms the glowing mass: and hence shall streams of 
fire hereafter burst, eating up with ‘devouring mouth the 
level plains of fertile Sicily*. Such fury shall Typhon 
breathe forth in warm showers of wuceasing fiery hail, 
though reduced to a cinder by the bolt of Jupiter. But 
thou, Ocean, art not without experience, and wantest 
not me as a teacher. Save thyselfas thou best can. But 
as for me I will bear my present sufferings till the mind 
of Jupiter shall relent from its wrath. 

Prometheus addresses the Chorus who are sympa- 
thizing with his misfortunes. 

Prometheus. —LThink not that I am silent through 


« /Eschylus is here evidently alluding to an eruption of Attna, 
which took place s.c. 476, some time before he went to Sicily, and is 
mentioned by Thucydides in the last chapter of his third book, 
Though the Prometheus may have been written before the eruption, 
this passage may also have been inserted afterwards. Aschylus 


» ; was born B.c. 929. 


1883.] 


pride or stubbornness, but I am wasting my heart with 
thought, at seeing myself thus shamefully treated. Who 
but myself securely fixed for these new Gods their seve- 
ral privileges ? but I say no more about this, for I should 
tell the tale to you who know it well. But as to the 
onee wretched state of man, hear while I relate how I 
gave understanding to him who was ignorant as an 
infant, and made him the possessor of knowledge. And 
I shall say this, not that I have aught for which to blame 
mankind, but to show the goodwill with which I helped 
them. Seeing they saw not, and hearing they heard not, 
but like the phantoms of a dream they had long jumbled 
all things in utter confusion. They knew not how to 
raise brick-built houses turned to receive the sun,—they 
knew not the art of fashioning wood ; but like ants in the 
sunless recesses of caves, they dwelled deep-burrowing in 
the earth. And they knew not the signs of winter, nor 
of flower-bringing spring, nor of fruit-bearing autumn; 
but they did every thing without forethought, till f 
pointed ont to them the risings of the stars, and their 
settings, difficult to discern. And I invented for them 
Number, the first of arts, and the putting together 
of letters, and Memory the mother of the Muses, the 
‘parent of all things. And I first bound animals to 
the yoke obedient to the collar; and that he might re- 
lieve man from his greatest toils, I brought under the 
chariot the horse obedient to the rein, an ornament of 
luxurious wealth. And none before me invented the 
sea-beaten, flaxen-winged chariot of the sailor. Such 
inventions, wretch as I am, I have devised for mor- 
tals; and now I have none left by which I may escape 
from the sorrows that I suffer. 


THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. 5. 


Tur Portuguese labourers and peasants differ consider- 
ably in their appearance and manners from their neigh- 
bours of Spain, and especially from the Castilians. They 
have neither the pride nor the sternness of the latter. 
Their bearing is less solemn, their language less senten- 
tious, as it is also less sonorous im its sounds. Most 
travellers who have visited both countries, prefer tlie 
Portuguese peasant: he is more sociable, manageable, 
and good-humoured than the Spanish. ‘“ In Portugal,” 
says Costigan, “ the lower you descend in rank, the 
higher the personal character of the people rises upon 
you. ‘The higher classes are as inferior to the Spanish 
ones, as the common people excel the corresponding class 
in Spain.” Mr. Link says, “The civility, the easy, gay, 
and friendly manners of the common people prepos- 
Sess a stranger in favour of the Portugnese rather than 
the Spaniards, but it is quite the reverse with the higher 
orders.”” Notwithstanding these favourable testimonies, 
which are grounded upon casual intercourse, we think, 
upon the whole, the national character stauds higher in 
Spain, and that even the peasantry of the latter country 
have in them more elements of a great and independent 
people than the Portuguese. The latter, however, are 
certainly very patient under privations, generally honest, 
attached to their country, and courageous. 

The Portuguese peasant in general lives very poorly. 
His bread is made of milho or Indian corn flour; it is 
sweetish to the taste, heavy, and crumbles to pieces on 
breaking it. Bacalhao, which is a sort of salted ling or 
stockfish, sardines, which are fished in great quantities 
off the coast of Portugal, garlic, onions, lupines, a few 
olives,—these form his common food. Wheaten bread is 
an article of luxury; meat is seldom tasted by the vil- 
lagers. Portugal, with the exception of the province of 
Alemtejo, produces but little wheat and barley, less rye, 
and hardly any oats. The Indian corn is usually sown 
in March and April. When the sprout is about an inch 


high, the earth round it is moved with a hoe in order | 
that the root may spread and acquire vigour, Its erowth | 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 3 
is greatly assisted by moderate showers; but a t 00 rainy 
season is injurious to the harvest. When the cane or 
stalk has attained several inches in heicht, the ground 
about requires to be thrown up again; and a third 
trenching is required when the plant has risen one foot 
above the ground. ‘The leaves of the Indian corn 
serve to feed the cattle, as very little hay is made in 
Portugal. 

The olive crop, which is another important produce of 
Portugal, is ripe in December or January. The olives 
are beaten off the trees with poles, and not plucked with 
the hand as in the south of France, or at Genoa and 
Lucca; this is one reason why Portuguese oil is in- 
ferior. Some farmers press the olives immediately, 
others shoot them down in heaps, throwing salt on them, 
and suffering them to ferment, by which they obtain 
more oil but of inferior quality. An absurd old privilege 
is mentioned by Mr. Kinsey* as still existing, by which the 
jfidaigos or nobles, and the religious corporations, have 
alone the right of keeping oil-presses, so that the farmers 
or small proprietors must wait until they can borrow the 
use of them after the others have done. In consequence 
of this, they are obliged to keep their crops sometimes 
till May or June, when the fruit has become spoilt. The 
presses are worked by oxen, aud the corn in most places 
is also trodden by oxen on a temporary floor made in 
the field. 

The houses in the Portuguese villages have a very 
primitive appearance. ‘They consist in general of the 
ground floor only. The walls are of extreme thickness, 
built of large rough stones, and the beams and frame- 
work of the roof are proportionally massive; the roof is 
covered with tiles. The outer walls are whitewashed, the 
windows are not glazed, and the shutters, which close 
badly, are not painted any more than the doors. The low- 
ness of the houses, and their dingy colour, prevent them 
from being discernible at a distance from amone the sur- 
rounding trees and garden walls; and the traveller often 
stumbles, as it were, upon a Portuguese village before he 
is aware of being near one. ‘The interior of most villages, 
as well as the inside of the houses, presents a scene of squa- 
lidness and filth unequalled perhaps in any other coun- 
try of Europe, Poland excepted. ‘ihe contrast on the 
frontiers, between Spain and Portugal, is decidedly to 
the advantage of the former. As you pass from the 
Portuguese province of Beira into the Spanish province 
or “ Kingdom” of Leon, which is by no means one..f 
the most favoured divisions of Spain, the villages of the 
latter, only a few miles beyond tle border, are clean, 
decent, and comfortable, compared to those of their 
neighbours. ‘There is also a glow of lealthiness and a 
manly look and bearing in the Spanish villagers, very 
superior to the dejected appearance and meau attire of 
the others. ‘There are, however, districts in Portugal 
which form an exception to these remarks. The fine pro- 
vince of Entre Douro e Minho, with its numerous towns 
and villages, five hundred parishes, and a population of 
nearly a million of inhabitants, although the smallest in 
extent, is the most fertile and best cultivated in the king- 
dom, and that in which the inhabitants appear most In- 
dustrious and comfortable. This is the great country 
for wine which is shipped at Oporto. Ihe neighbour- 
hood of Lisbou also presents some fine districts, as well 
as the valley of the Mondego above Coimbra. There 
you meet with better built villages, and some pretty 
guintas or country-houses. But a great part of the 
country is barren, rocky, or uncultivated ; the fidalgos 
or great landed proprietors reside in the towns, and leave 
the management of their estates to agents or speculators 
who have advanced them money on the rent, and who 
oppress the tenants. ‘The crown lands are in a state of 
neglect; the convent lands are better-cultivated. ‘The 
farmers are poor and cannot afford to make improve- 

* Portugal illustrated in a Series of Letters.—London, 1828. 


b 2 


4 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ments. They consult the aimanac for directions in 
their rural labours, and sow the same sort of seed year 
after year on the same field as their fathérs did before 
them. ‘The plough and harrow are very heavy, and 
drawn by bullocks. The Portuguese carts are remark- 
able for their clumsiness. The wheels are of a solid 
piece about tlirce feet in diamcter, and are fixed to the 
axletree which moves round with them, producing a 
grating noise peculiarly offensive to the car. The car- 
man walks by the side of the bullocks, pricking them with 
his goad to urge them on. In this manner the pon- 
derous machine rolls heavily forward, jolting dreadfully on 
the wretched roads which are impassable for any other sort 
of vehicle. ‘The wounded soldiers during the late war, 
who were conveyed away in these carts after an action, 
sorely felt the miscry of this mcde of conveyance. In the 
wine districts of the Douvo it requires a whole day for two 
pullocks to drag a pipe of wine six or seven miles, and 
two men to preveat the cart from being overturned. 
Donkeys and mules, but chiefly the former, constitute the 
other means of conveyance. The donkeys are fine and 
strong, and extremely useful to the country people. ‘The 
entry travel in liteiras, a sort of sedan chairs carried 
by two horses or mics. | 

The Portuguese pcasant always goes armed with his 
cajado, a staff about seven feet long, having a heavy knob 
or leaden charge at one end, which he uses with great 
dexterity. It is, in treth, a formidable weapon in his hands. 
The capote or cloak is of universal use as in Spain. 

The population of Portugal is stated by Balbi at three 
millions and a half, of which Lisbon and its comarca or 
surrounding territory contain above half a million. 


BRITISH MUSEUM.—No. 9. 
THE ELGIN MARBLES, 


Tue statues of Theseus and the Ihssus given in our 
last article on the Elgin Marbles, although much dilapi- 
dated, have suffered less than most of the other figures 
which ornamented the pediments of the Parthenon. ‘The 
subjects of these sculptures were, the Birth of Minerva, 
on the eastern pediment; and on the western, the Contest 
between Minerva and Neptune for the honour of giving 
birth to the city of Athens. ‘The whole arrangement of 
those groups may be seen in Stuarts celebrated work 
on Athens. ‘The figures which are in the best preserva- 
tion, after the two above-mentioned, are those of the two 
goddesses (No. 94), probably Ceres and her daughter 
Proserpine, and a group (No. 97) of the three Iates. 
This last is placed immediately opposite the door of the 
new apartment in the Museum which is appropriated to 
those works; and the length of the passage which leads 
to it affords an opportunity of viewing this group at a 
distance, sufficient to perceive and apprcciate its entire 
effect. When seen ncar at hand, there appears, in these 
figures particularly, to be something small and wiry in 
the execution of the draperies, differing esseutially from 
the general breadth anc largeness of style which cha- 
racterizes the lgin Marbles. But the sculptor’s inten- 
tion becemes apparent when the group is seen in its 
present situation ; the fienres form into the finest masses, 
and the sharp and multiplied lines give an air of light- 
ness and delicacy proper to female drapery. 

Our attention is next engaged by the Metopes, a series 
of figures in very high relief, which, alternately with the 
trigiyphs, ornamented the frieze of the entablature sur- 
mounting the colonnade of the Parthenon; the subjects are 
the sume throughout: the contests of the Centaurs and 
Lapithie, or rather between the Centaurs and Athenians, 
who, uuder Theseus, became the allies of the Lapithe. 
Lhese groups exhibit great spirit and variety of action; 
thei fine contours, however, are never disfigured by vio- 
Jeut aud extravagant contorlions, Victory seems doubtful : 
here an Athenian, and there a Centaar seems to triumph; 


[JANUARY 5, 


and the compositions are occasionally varied by the intro- 
duction of female figures whom the Centaurs are endea- 
vouring to bear away. ‘These alto-relievos are executed 
with great boldness and vigour. We have selected two 
from the series, which are numbered from | to 16. 

There is no portion of the Elgin Marbles by which 
our attention is more strongly arrested, or which more 
strikingly evinces the high excellence which art had at- 
tained at the epoch in which they were executed, than 
the sculptures which compose the exterior frieze of the 
Cella ofthe Parthenon. This scries was continued in an 
uninterrupted succession entirely round the temple. It 
is in very low relief, and represents the sacred proces- 
sion which took place at the great Panathenza, a fes- 
tival which was celebrated every fifth year, at Athens, m_ 
honour of Minerva, the patroness of the city. Those 
sculptures which occupied the principal front of the 
temple, namely, the east, commence on the left hand of 
the visitor as he enters the room of the Museum, then 
follow those of the north, and lastly, those of the west 
and south. ‘The arrangement has been made, as nearly 
as could be ascertained, according to the original order 
in which they stood in the Parthenon. 

In that portion of the frieze which ornamented the 
east end of the temple are representations of divinities 
and deified heroes: Castor and Pollux, Ceres and ‘Trip- 
tolemus, Jupiter and Juno, and /Asculapius and Hygeia. 
On the right aud left of these sacred characters are trains 
of females bearing offerings to the gods. At intervals, 
officers appear whose duty it was to superintend and 
regulate the solemnity, (No. 23). These females led 
the procession, both on the north and south side of the 
temple, and were followed by the charioteers, horsemen, 
victims, &c., which formed a procession up to the same 
point in two separate columns. 

‘The subjects comprised in the frieze taken from the 
north side of the temple are chiefly composed of cha- 
rioteers and horsemen. Some among these are consi- 
dered pre-eminently excellent. ‘The two groups (Nos. 
39 and 42), given in the wood-cut, will afford a general 
idea of the style and arrangement of these figures. 
Those from the western frieze appear to be rather pre-e 
paring for the procession than engaged m it; and the 
subjects on the southern side are diversified by the intro- 
duction of victims, chiefly oxen, which are led on for 
the purpose of sacrifice. . 

These fine performances have suffered so much from 
time and violence, that the visitor may not perhans at 
a first view be struck with their extraordinary excel- 
lence; but we are certain that no one possessing a 
tolerable natural taste will repeat his inspection of them 
frequently, without becoming sensible of their beauties. 
For the due appreciation of those works, no technical 
acquaintance with art is necessary: they are executed in 
that style of consummate mastery which discards the 
parade of rccondite knowledge, and addresses itself to the 
spectator in the broad and general language of nature. 
It is not only inthe human figure that the profound skill 
of these works is evinced. When we look at the horses 
in the frieze, we are almost tempted to think that beau- 
tiful animal has never elsewhere been adequately repre- 
sented, either in sculpture or in the more tractable ma- 
terial of painting. ven the horses of Rubens, admi- 
rable as they are, are individual; but those of the Elgin 
Marbles exhibit throughout the generie character of the 
animal: and it is impossible to look on the succession 
of groups here represented, in every variety of action, 
without feeling animated and exhilarated as if the pro- 
cession were really passing before us. ‘The most casual 
observer must be struck with the grace and elcgance of 
the riders, who seem formed indeed ‘ to witch the world 
with noble horsemanship.”’ The fire and vivacity of those 
figures are finely contrasted with the devout and reveren- 
tial air of the females who lead the procession.. 


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THE DAYS OF CREATION. 


YROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER, 


Aut. dead and silent was the earth, 
In deepest night it lay, 
The Eternal spoke Creation’s word, 
And called to being, Day. 
Chor. It streamed from on high, 
All reddening and bright, 
And angels’ songs welcom’d 
The new-born hght. 


God spake: the murmuring waters fled, 
They left their deep repose, 
Wide over-arching heaven’s blue vault 
The firmament arose. 
Chor. Now sparkles above 
Heaven’s glorious blue, 
It sends to the earth 
The light and the dew. 


God spake: he bade the waves divide; 
The earth uprears her head ; 

From hill, from rock, the gushing streams 
In bubbling torrents spread. 


Chor. The earth rested quiet, 
And, poised in the air, 
In heaven’s blue hosom 
Lay naked and bare. 


God spake: the hills and plains put on 
Their robe of freshest green ; 
Dark forests in the valleys wave, 
And budding trees are seen. 
Chor. ‘The word of his breath 
Clothes the forest with leaves, 
The high gift of beauty 
The spring-tide receives. 
God spake: and on the new-dress’d earth 
Soft smiled the glowing Sun, 
Then full of joy he sprung aloft, 
His heavenly course to run. 
Chor. Loud shonted the stars 
As they shone in the sky, 
The Moon with mild aspect 
Ascended on high. 


God spake : the waters teem with life, 
The tenants of the floods ; 
The many-colour’d winged birds 
Dart quickly thro’ the woods. 
Chor. High rushes the eagle 
On fiery wings, 
_ Low hid in the valley 
The nightingale sings. 
God spake: the lion, steer, and horse 
Spring from the moisten’d clay, 
Whule round the breast of mother earth 
Bees hum, and lambkins play. 


_Chor. They give life to the mountain, 
They swarm on the plain, 
But their eyes fix’d on earth 
Must for ever remain. 
God spake: he look’d on earth and heaven 
With mild and gracious eye : 
In his own image man he made, 
And gave him dignity. 
Chor. He springs from the dust, 
The Lord of the earth. 
The chorus of heaven 
Exult at his birth. 
And now Creation’s work was ended, 
Man raised his head, he spoke : 
The day of rest by God ordained, 
The Sabbath morning broke. 





LONDON POST-OFFICE. 


tne ordinary business of each day is, in letters in the 
inland office alone, 35,000 letters received, and 40,000 
sent (23,475,000 annually), exclusive of the numbers 
in the foreign office department and the ship-letter office, 
and altogether independent of the two-penny post. Tlie 
number of newspapers daily varies from 25,000 to 60,000 
(on Saturday 40,000, and on Monday 50,000), of which 


number about 20,000 are put into the office ten minutes | 


before srx oclock. After that hour each; newspaper Is 
charged one halfpenny, which yields a revenue of fully 
£500 a year, and of which 240,000 newspapers are 
annually put into the office from six to a quarter before 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. JANUARY 9, 


eight o'clock. The revenue derived from charges for 
early delivery in London is £4,000, and the sum ob- 
tained by the charge of one penny ou each letter given 
to the postmen, who go round with bells to collect the 
letters, is £3,000 a year, giving 720,000, or nearly 
2,000 daily. The revenue of London is £6,000 a week, 
above £300,000 a year; and yet of all this vast annual 
revenue there has only been lost by defaulters' £200 
in twenty-five years. The franks amount m a morning 
to 4,000 or 5,000, or more. Newspapers can only be 
franked for foreign parts to the first port at which the 
mail arrives; after this they are charged postage accord- 
ing to their weight, in consequence of which an English 
daily paper costs in St. Petersburgh £40 sterling per 
annum. 7 


THE MAID OF ORLEANS. 

Tue 6th of January is said to be the birth-day of 
JEANNE d’Arc, commonly called the Maid of Orleans. 
This extraordinary person, whose exploits form one of 
the most brilliant adventures in modern history, was the 
daughter of Jacques d’Arc, a peasant residing in the 
villave of Domremy, then situated on the western border 
of the territory of Lorraine, but now comprehended 
within the department of the Meuse, m the north-eastern 
corner of France. Here she was born, according to one 
account in 1402, according to another m 1412, while 
other authorities give 1410 as the year. She was one of 
a family of three sons and two daughters, all of whom 
were bred to the humble or menial occupations suitable 
to the condition of their parents. Joan, whose education 
did not enable her even to write her own name, adopted 
at first the business of a seamstress and spinster ; but 
after some time she left her father’s house and hired her- 
self as servant at an mn in the neighbouring town of 
Neufchateau. Here she remaimed for five years. rom 
her childhood she had been a girl of a remarkably ardent 
and imaginative cast of mind. Possessed of great beauty, 
and formed, both by her personal attractions and by the 
sentleness of her disposition and manners, to be the 
delight of all with whom she assocrated, she yet took but 
little interest either m the amusements of those of her 
own age, or in any of the ordinary occurrences of life. 
Her first, and for many years the all-absorbing passion 
was religion. Before she left her native village most of 
her ieisure hours were spent in the recesses of a forest 
in the neighbourhood. Here she conversed not only 
with her own spirit, but in imagination also with the 
saints and the angels, till the dreams of her excited 
fancy assumed the distinctuess of reality. She believed 
that she heard with her ears voices from heaven; the 
archangel Michael, the angel Gabriel, Saint Catherine 
and Saint Margaret—all seemed at differeit times to 
address her audibly. In all this there is nothing inex- . 
plicable, or even uncommon. ‘The state of mind described 
has been in every age a frequent result of devotional 
enthusiasm. 

After some time another strone sentiment caine to 
share her affections with religion—that of patriotism. 
The state of France, with which Lorraine, though not 
incorporated, was intimately connected, was at this period 
deplorable in the extreme. A foreign power, England, 
claimed the sovereignty of the kingdom, was in actual 
possession of the greater part of it, and had garrisons 
established in nearly all the considerable towns. The 
Duke of Bedford, one of the uncles of Henry VI. the 
King of England, resided in Paris, and there governed 
the country as regent in the name of his young nephew 
The Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful vassal of the 
crown, had become the ally and supporter of this foreign 
domination. Charles VII., the legitimate heir of the 
throne, and decidedly the object of the national attach- 
ment, was a fuyitive, confined to a narrow corner of the 
kingdom, and losing every day some portion of his re- 
maining resources. These events made a great impres- 





1833.] _ THE PENNY 


sion upon Jeanne. ‘Phe village of Domremy, it appears, 
was almost universally attached to the cause of Charles. 


In her eyes especially it was tlie cause of Heaven as. well’ 


as of France. While she lived at Nenfcliatean she en- 
joyed better opportunities of learning the progress of 
public affairs. Martial feelings here began to mix them- 
selves with her religious enthusiasm—a union common 
and natural in those times, however incongruous it may 
appear in ours. Her sex, which excluded her from the 
profession of arms, seemed to her almost a degrading 
yoke, which it became her to disregard and to throw olf 
She apphed herself accordingly to manly exercises, which 
at once invigorated her frame, and added a glow of 
finer animation to her beauty. In particular she acquired 
the art of managing her horse with the boldness and skill 
of the inost accomplished cavalier. . 

it was on the 24th of February, 1429, that Jeanne 
first presented herself before King Charles at Chinon, a 
town lying a considerable distance below Orleans on thie 
south side of the Loire. She was dressed in male attire, 
aud armed from head to foot ; and in this disguise she 
had travelled in company with a few individuals whom 
she had persuaded to attend her one hundred and fifty 
leagues through a country in possession of the enemy. 
She told his Majesty that she came, commissioned by 
Hleaven, to restore him to the throne of his ancestors. 
Lhere can be little doubt that Charles himself, or some 
of his advisers, in the desperate state to which his affairs 
were redueed, conceived the plan of turning the preten- 
sious of the enthusiast, wild as they might be deemed, to 
some account. Such ascheme was not nearly so unlikely 
to suggest itself, or so unpromising, in that age, as it 
would be in ours ;—as the result which followed in the 
present instance abundantly proves. At this time the 
town of Orleans, the principal place of strength which 
styl held out for Charles, and which formed the key to 
the only portion of the kingdom where his sway was 
acknowledged, was pressed by the besieging forces of the 
English, and reduced to the most hopeless extremity. 
Some weeks were spent in various proceedings intended 
to throw around the enterprise of the Maid such show of 
divine protection as might give the requisite effect to her 
appearance. At last, on the 29th of April, mounted on 
her white steed, and with her standard earried before 
her, she dashed forward at the head of a convoy with pro- 
visions, and in spite of all the opposition of the enemy 
forced her way into the beleaguered city. ‘This was the 
beginning of a rapid succession of exploits which assumed 
the character of miracles. In a few sallies she drove the 
besievers from every post. Nothing could stand before 
her @allantry, and the enthusiasm of those who in fol- 
lowing her standard believed that the invincible might of 
ifeaven itself was leading them on. On the 8th of May 
the enemy, who had encompassed the place since the 
ith of the preceding October, raised the siege, and 
retired in terror and disorder. From this date the 
English domination in France withered like an uprooted 
tree. In a few days after followed the battle of Patay, 
when a great victory was won by the French forces under 
the command of the Maid over the enemy, conducted by 
the brave and able Talbot. ‘Two thousand five hundred 
of the Iinglish were left dead on the field; and twelve 
liumdred were taken prisoners, among whom was the 
General himself. ‘Town after town now opened its gates 
to the victors, the English garrison retiring in general 
without a blow. On the 16th of July Rheims sur- 
rendered ; and the following day Charles was solemuly 
consecrated aud crowned in the cathedral there. Having 
now, as she said, fulfilled her mission, the Maid of 
Orleans petitioned her royal master to suffer her to return 
to the quiet and obscurity of her native village and her 
former condition. Charles’s entreaties and commands 
unfortunately prevailed upon her to forego this resolution. 
Honours were now lavishly bestowed upon her. A 
niedal was struck in celebration of her achievements, 


fae 
— -.. 


MAGAZINE. 7 
and letters of nobility were eranted to herself and to 
every member of her family. Many eallant and suc- 
cessful exploits illustrate her subsequent history; but 
these we cannot stop to enumerate.” Her end was 
lamentable—indelibly disgraceful to England, and hardly 
less so to rance. On the 24th of May, 1430, while 
heroically fighting against the army of the Duke or 
Burgundy wider the walls of Compeiene, she was shame- 
fully shut out from the city which she was defending, 
through the contrivance of the governor; and being 
left almost alone, was, after performing prodigies of 
valour, compelled to surrender to the enemy. John of 
Luxembourg, into whose hands she fell, some time after 
sold her for a sum of ten thousand livres to the Duke of 
Bedford. She was then brought to Rouen, and tried on 
an accusation of sorcery. ‘The contrivances which were 
resorted to in order to procure evidence of her enilt 
exhibit a course of proceedines as cruel and infamous as 
any recorded in the annals of judicial iniquity ; and on 
the 30th of May, 1481, she was sentenced to be burned 
at the stake. During all this time no attempt had been 
made by the ungrateful and worthless prince, whom she 
had restored to a throne, to effect her liberation. In the 
midst of her calamities the feminine softness of her 
nature resumed its sway, and she pleaded hard that she 
might be allowed to live. Lut her protestations and 
entreaties were alike in vain; on the following day the 
horrid sentence was carried into execution in the market- 
place of Rouen. ‘The poor unhappy victim died cou- 
rageously and nobly as she had lived; and the name of 
her Redeemer was the last sound her lips were heard to 
utter from amidst the flames. 

Thus was perpetrated by the rancour of national ani- 
mosity another deed as dishonourable to the fair fame of 
England as the murder of Wallace in the preceding 
centuty. How sadly does this act of cruelty, vengeance, 
and foul injustite tarnish the glory of Cressy, Poitiers, 
and Agincourt! But the contest in which these great 
victories were won was from the beginning a work of 
injustice and folly. As waged between the Kings of 
EKniegland and France, it was, to say the least, com- 
menced and carried on by the former on grounds of very 
dubious right. fdward IIT. even acquiesced for several 
years without a murmur, in the succession of Philip of 
Valois to the French throne, before he took up arms to 
eldeavour to displace him. But surely such a contro- 
versy did not concern merely these two sovereigns as 
individuals. If there was a doubt as to which was best 
e1titled by descent to the vacant crown, the unquestion- 
able preference of the nation for Philip ought to have 
been considered at once decisive as to their conflicting 
pretensions.. Reearded in another point of view, these 
attempts of Emeland to conquer France were still more 
objectionable and absnrd. if they had succeeded, no 
ereater calamity could have befallen tls island, which 
in that case would have been reduced to a mere province 
of the larger country. But although this catastrophe 
was fortunately prevented, and, to ail appearance, by the 
instrumentality of the Maid of Orleans, other results of the 
most disastrous description followed to both nations. The 
waste of resources occasioned by these wars, the quan- 
tity of blood that was shed on both sides, the misery and 
demoralization that were spread over tlie fairest portion 
of Europe, are such as cannot be thought of without 
horror. Above all, however, aud forming perhaps their 
most serious consequence, because an evil of the longest 
duration, was the bitter national hatred which they en- 
cwendered between the inhabitants of two countries 
placed in the most favourable relation for friendly inter- 
course, and forined by nature to strive together in the 
race of civilization, instead of thus to waste their ener- 
gies for each other's annoyance and destruction. ‘The 
feelings of rancorous hostility left by these old wars have 
undoubtedly had a powerful influence down even to our 
own day in arraying France and England against each. 


4 


8 


other in the opposite ranks of almost every contest that 
Let us hope that a wiser 


has since raged in Europe. 


THE PENNY 


and more Christian spirit has now taken the place of 


these anti-social and almost savage prejudices ; and that 








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MAGAZINE | January 5, 1833. 
their future history will exhibit them, not as heretofore, 
opposed foot to foot and breast to breast in the clash of 
swords, but moving forward together, and leading, as it 
were, hand in hand, the march of human improvement. 














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[Statue of the Maid of Orleans at Rouen. | 





Barberim Vase-—We are informed that the Barberini 
Vase, according to the opinion of Dr. Wollaston, was formed 
by making an artificial opal, which was then blown out as is 
now done with glass vessels; after which part of the outer 
layer was cut away, leaving the figures in relief. 


Ostrich of South Africa.—A correspondent states, that to 
the general truth of the account of the ostrich of South 
Africa, given in the ‘Penny Magazine of December 8, he 
can bear testimony, having been scme years in the interior 
of the Cape, principally engaged in collecting ostrich feathers. 
Fle adds, however, that it is there stated that the fine feathers 
so much prized, are from the tail of the bird, which is not 
the fact, although that opinion is very general... The prin- 
cipal white feathers are from the wings; which, in a bird in 
full plumage, contain forty. The tail feathers seldom exceed 
nine incnes in length, and are of so little value that they are 
seldom exported from the Cape, as the birds, when killed, 
are generally found with the tails worn to the stumps, from 
working in the sand, especially during the season of incu- 
bation, That this is the case, persons may satisfy them- 


selves by examming any of tne livmg specimens mm the 


Zoological Gardens, or the preserved specimen m the British 
Museum. 





o wen WH °8* "eee 


*,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 13 as 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 











LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


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Printed by WiLtsam Crowes, Stamford Street. 





THE PENNY 





OF THE 


seciety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





ee 





PUELISHED EVERY SATURDAY, 





[JANUARY 12, 1833, 





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THE DYING GLADIATOR. 


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Tits celebrated statue, which is now at Rome, has 
given rise to much discussion, and it is at least doubtful 
whether it bears its right name. It is thus described by 
Winkelmann (vol. ii. p. 241, French ed.):—* It repre- 
sents a man of toil, who has lived a laborious life, as we 
may see from the countenance, from one of the hands, 
which is genuine, and from the soles of the feet. He 
has a cord round his neck, which is knotted under the 
chin; he is lying on an oval buckler, on which we see 
a kind of broken horn*.” The rest of Winkelmann’s 
remarks are little to the purpose. 

Pliny, in along chapter of his thirty-fourth book, 
wherein he enumerates the most famous statuaries who 
worked in metal, mentions one called Ctesilaus, who 
appears to have lived near, or shortly after, the time of 
Phidias. ‘“ He made,” says Pliny, “‘a wounded man 
expiring (or fainting), and he succeeded in expressing 
exactly how much vitality still remained.” It is possi- 
ble that this bronze or metal figure may be the original 
of the marble figure now in Rome, to which we give 
the name of the Dying Gladiator. As far as- we can 
judge from the attitude, the armour, the general cha- 
racter of the figure, and the deep expression of pain 
and intense agony, the whole composition may very 
possibly be intended to represent the death of one of 
those wretched beings, who were compelled to slaughter 
each other for the amusement of the Roman capital. 
The broken horn is, however, considered by some critics 
as an objection to this statue being a representation of a 
gladiator; the signal for the combat, they say, might 
be given with a horn, but what had the fixhter to “do 
with one? ‘This seems to us a small objection. The 
7. of the horn does not necessarily imply that it 

elonged to the gladiator; it is a symbol, a kind of 

* This horn, which was broken, hag been restored, and that near 
the mght hand is entirely modern. 


VoL. II, 





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short-hand, which brings to recollection the crowded 
amphitheatre, the eager populace, the devoted victims, 
the signal for attack; and the sad contrast to all this is 
exhibited in the figure of the dying, man. As to any 
difficulty that may be raised about the kind of armour, 
or the cord round the neck, this may be removed by 
considering that the Romans had gladiators from all 
countries, and that these men often fought with their 
native weapons, and after the fashion of their own 
country. ‘lhe savage directors of these spectacles knew 
full well the feelings of animosity with which uncivilized 
nations are apt to regard one another, and they found 
no way so ready for exhibiting to the populace all the 
bloody circumstances of a real battle, as to match 
towether people of different nations. - 

Whether this figure be that of a dying gladiator or 
not, it is pretty certain it will long retain the name, at 
least in the popular opinion in this country, as it has 
furnished the subject for some of the noblest lines that 
one of the first of modern poets ever penned :— 


IT see before me the gladiator lie: 
He leans upon his hand—his manly brow 

- Consents to death, but conquers agony, 
And his droop’d head sinks gradually low— 
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow 
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, 
Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now 
The arena swims around him—he is gone, 

Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail’d the wretch who won. 


“ We heard it, but he heeded not—his eyes 

Were with his heart, and that was far away ; 

He reck’d not of the life he lost, nor prize, 

But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, 

There were his voung barbarians all at play, 

There was their Dacian mother—he, their sire, 

Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday— 

All this rusli’d with his blood.—Shall he expire, 
And unavenged ?—~Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!” 


10 


Had the poet always felf and written in the same 
strain, he night have claimed the higher rank of one of 
the first of moralists. What must we think of the state 
of degradation im which the Roman people were sunk, 
when the sight of human blood was necessary to gratify 
their passion for novelty, and to preserve to their rulers 
a temporary popularity? Cruelty, ferocity, cowardice, 
and laziness werethe vices necessarily cherished by such 
odious sights; and it is a fact that ought never to be 
lost sight of by those who wish to improve the character 
of society, that to be taught to look with indifference on 
the sufferings of any living object, is the first lesson in 
cruclty. 

With the extension of the Roman empire by conquest, 
and the increase of private wealth obtained from the 
plunder of provinces, and by every species of extortion 
that could be devised, the practice of giving public exhi- 
bitions on a splendid scale became one of the duties of 
a great man, who wished to attain or secure popularity, 
But under the E Emperors the games of the amphitheatre 
were carried to a pitch of extrav avant expenditure, that 
far surpassed any thing that had “been witnessed in the 
latter days of the Republic. From every part of the then 
known world, from the forests of Germany, the moun- 
tuins and deserts of Africa and Asia, was brought, at 
enorinous expense, every animal that could minister to 
the sports of the arena; and the Roman populace beheld, 
without knowing how to appreciate, the wondrous came- 
lopard and the two-horned rhinoceros, which half a cen- 
tury ago European naturalists were scarcely able to 
describe with precision. 

‘The enormous buildings erected to gratify the popular 

taste, were all surpassed by the huge Colosseum of Ves- 
pasian, which has been already described in this Maga- 
zine. It was opened by his son Titus, who exhibited at 
once five thousand wild animals. But the following 
extract from ‘T'acitus will show that one of Vespasian’s 
predecessors had ventured to try an exhibition, different 
indeed from any thing that the Colosseum could present, 
but not inferior in extravawance and cruelty. About 
fifty miles due east of Rome, in a wide valley enclosed 
by lofty mountains, lies the broad expanse of the Lake 
Celano (formerly called Fucinus): its greatest length is 
about fifteen miles, and its breadth from four to six and 
eleht miles. ‘The Emperor at immense cost had made a 
tunnel through a mountain, which bordered on the west 
bank of the lake, and to celebrate the opening of the 
tunnel with due splendour, he exhibited a naval battle on 
the waters. ‘* About this time, after the mountain which 
separated the Fucine* lake from the river Liris had been 
cut through, a sea-fight was got up on the lake itself for 
the putnose of attracting a crowd to witness the magnifi- 
cent work just completed. The emperor Augustus once 
made an exhibition of this kind near the banks of the 
Tiber, by constructing an artificial pond; but his ships 
were of inferior size, and but few in number. Claudius 
equipped a hundred triremes and quadriremes, and 
19,000 men; he also placed floats or rafts in such a 
position as to enclose a large part of the lake, so that the 
combatants might not have any chance of escape. He 
allowed space enough, however, for the full working of 
the oars, the skill of the helmsman, the driving of ie 
ships against one another, and other manceuvres usual 
in a sea-fight. On the rafts were stationed companies 
and bands of the Pretorian cohorts, with breastworks 
before them, from which they could manage the engines 
for discharging missiles. The rest of the lake was occu- 
pied by the adverse fleets, whose ships were all provided 
with decks. The shores of the lake, the hills around it, 
and the tops of the mountains, were Jike a vast amphi- 
theatre, crowded with a countless multitude from the 
nearest towns, and some from the capital itself, who were 
attracted by the novelty of the sight, or came out of com- 
* Tacitus, Annals, xii. 56. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


‘pliment to the Emperor. 


[JANUARY 13 


The Emperor himself, in a 
magnificent cloak, and his wife Agrippina, at a short 
distance from him, dressed in a robe embroidered with 
gold, presided at the spectacle. ‘The coinbatants, though 
criminals condemned to death, fought with all the courage 
of brave men; after many had been w rounded, they were 
excused from completing the work of destruction on one 
another. At the close of the games, the passage for 
the waters was opened; but the incompleteness of the 
work was soon evident, for the canal, so far froin being 
deep enough to drain the lake to the bottom, did not 
carry off the waters to half their depth.” 

The traces of this subterranean canal or tnnnel are 
still visible at one extremity. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—S«ectTIon 1. 


THERE is perhaps no portion of the earth’s surface, of 
the same extent, which contains so great a variety of 
those mineral substances which minister to the necessities 
and comforts of life, as the island of Great Britain; and 
it would almost seem, from its internal structure, as if 
Providence had pre-ordained that it should be the seat of 
an opulent and powerful people, and one of its chief 
instruments for the civilization and advancement of the 
human race. ‘That this is no extravagant overstrained 
expression of national vanity, may, we think, be very 
easily made apparent, by a few reflections on the vast 
advantages which the British Empire itself, and, through 
it, the civilized world have derived, from the circuinstance 
of our possessing an abundance of one particular mineral 
under the surface of our soil. The almost inexhaustible 
mines of coal, which are found in so many different 
parts of our island, have unquestionably been one of the 
chief sources of onr wealth, and of our influence among 
the other nations of Europe. All our great manufite- 
turing towns ,—Birmingham, Leeds, Sreticld, Man- 
chester, Glasgow, Paisley, are not only situated in the 
immediate vicinity of coal, but never would have existed 
without it. If we had had no coal we should have lost 
the greater part of the wealth we derive from our me- 
tallic ores, for they could neither have been drawn from 
the depths where they lie concealed, nor, if found near 
the surface, could they have been profitably refined. 


‘Without coal the steam-engine would probably have 


remained amone the apparatus of the natural phi- 
losopher: not only did the fuel supply the means of 
working the machine, but the demand for artificial power, 
in order to raise that same fuel from the bowels of the 
earth, more immediately led to the practical application 
of the great discovery made by Wait, while repairing 
the philosophical instrument of Dr. Black. Before the 
ivention of the steam-engine, the power required to 
move machinery was confined to the impelling force of 
running water, of wind, of animal and human strength, — 
all too “weak, unsteady, irregular, and costly to admit of 
the possibility of their extensive application. But the 
steam-engine gave a giant power to the human race, 
capable of being applied to every purpose, and in every: 
situation where fucl can be found. Thus manufactures 
arose, and from the cheapness with which labour could 
be commanded, and the prodigious increase of work done 
in the same space of time, their produce was so reduced 
in price, as to bring luxuries and comforts within the 
reach of thousands who never tasted them before. New 
tastes thus excited and increasing consumption multiplied 
manufacturing establishments, and their demands led to 
great manufactures of machinery ; competition led to 
improvement in the steam-engine itself, and thus, by the 
reciprocal action of improvement and demand, our ma- 
chinery. -and manufactures gradually acquired that higk 
degree of; ‘perfection to which they are now arrived. 

With ‘the © ‘Improvement of the steam-engine, came the 
wonderful application of it to navigation, which has’ 


1833.] 


already, in a few years, produced such extraordinary 
results; and which, when combined with its farther ap- 
plication to wheel carriages, must at no great distance of 
time occasion a revolution in the whole state of society. 
At this moment a steam-vessel is exploring lands in the 
interior of Africa, never before visited by civilized man; 
the harbinger, we may confidently hope, of future civill- 
zation, prosperity, and happiness to that vast portion of 
the earth’s surface. Are we not then fully justified in 
saying that these great results, involving the future 
destinies of the human race, may be traced to the dis- 
covery of the beds of coal placed by nature in our little 
ae tee ee 

Next to coal our rron is the most important of our 
mineral treasures; and it is a remarkable circumstance, 
that the ore of that metal, which is so essential to the 
wants of man that civilization has never been known to 
exist without it, should in Great Britain be placed in 
ereatest abundance, not only in the vicinity of, but ac- 
tually associated with the coal necessary to separate the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


metal from the impurities of the ore, so as to render it fit | 


for our use. In Sweden, and imost other countnes 
where iron mines exist, the ore is refined by means of 
wood; but tio space on the surface of our island could 
have been spared to grow timber for such a purpose; 
and thus, without coal, in place of beius, as we are now, 
ereat exporters of wrought and unwrought tron to distant 
uations, we must have depended on other countries for 
this metal; to the vast detriinent of many of our manu- 
factures, which mainly owe their improvement. and 
extension to the abundance and consequent cheapness 
of iron. 

There are extensive mines of LEAD in Derbyshire, 
Yorkshire, Northumberland, Lanarkshire, Dumfriesshire, 
and several other places in Great Britain, sufficient not 
only for the internal demand for that metal, but yielding 
a considerable amount for exportation. Copper is pro- 
duced in large quantities in Cornwall, and the same 
county has been celebrated for its TIN mines for nearly 
two thousand years. 

Coal, iron, lead, copper, and tin, are the principal un- 
nerals of our country, which, in common language, are 
usually associated with the idea of the produce of mines. 
Silver and gold we have none, with the exception of a 
little of the former contained in some of the ores of lead, 
and which is separated by refining, when in sufficient 
quantity to yield a profit beyond the expense of the 
process ; but we have some other metals, lighly useful 
in the arts, such as zinc, antimony, and manganese. 

Besides the substances above mentioned, we have 
many other mineral treasures of great importance still 
to be noticed. Of these the most valuable perhaps 1s 
limestone, from its use in agriculture, to ameliorate and 
increase the fertility of the soil, and from its being an 
indispeusable ingredient in mortar for building; and 
there are not many parts of the island far distant from 
a supply of this material. Building stone is found in 
most parts of the country; and although we must go to 
italy jor the material for the art of sculpture to be em- 
ployed upon, we have freestones applicable to all the 
purposes of ornamental architecture, and we have many 
marbles of great beauty. If stones be far off, clay is 
never wanting to supply a substitute; and the most 
distant nations have their daily food served up in vessels, 
the materials of which, dug from our clay-pits, have 
given occupation to thousands of our industrious popu- 
lation in our potteries and china manufactures. For 
our supply of sax, that essential part of the daily sus- 
tenance of almost every human being, we are not 
dependent on the brine which encircles our island, for 
we have in the mines and salt-springs of Cheshire and 
Worcestershire almost inexhaustible stores of the purest 
quality, unmixed with those eartny and other ingre- 
dients whieh must be separated by an expensive process, 


ea a a a I IN FEE ERE ee ee tee _ . . = - . = _ " ont 


Il 


before a culinary salt can be obtained from the water 
of the sea. 

Familiar as are almost every one of the mineral sub- 
stauces we have named, in the common business of life, 
there are many persons who have but a very imperfect 
idea from whence they are derived, and what previous 
processes they undergo before they can be made appli- 
cable to our use. We do not doubt, therefore, that we 
shall contribute to the instruction and entertainment of 
any of our readers, by devoting a portion of our Ma- 
gazine to a series of articles, in which we propose to 
make them acquainted with the natural history of our 
mineral treasures, with the mode in which they are ob- 
taiued from the mines, and with the operations they are 
subjected to, before they can be brought ‘forward as 
marketable commodities. ‘To do this, however, in a 
clear and intelligible manner, some preliminary informa- 
tion is indispensable; without this, the terms we must 
necessarily employ, in our descriptions of the mode in 
which the substances exist under the surface of the 
earth, would not be understood. This introductory 
matter, however, we are persuaded will not be found the 
least instructive or the least entertaining part of the 
information we shall lay before our readers; on the con- 
trary, we feel assured that it will disclose to many of 
them wonders of nature, of which they had previously 
no conception. It will embrace a popular sketch of the 
leading doctrines in GEoLocy, that department of science, 
Whose object is to investigate the nature and properties 
of the substances of which the solid crust of the earth 
is composed; the laws of their combinations, as consti 
tuting the elements of rocks, and other stony masses ; 
the arrangement of these different masses, and their 
relations to each other; the changgs which they appear’ 
to have undergone at various successive periods ; and, 
finally, to establish a just theory of the construction of 
that solid crust. In the formation of organized bodies, 
that is, in the structure of animals and plants, the most 
superficial observer cannot fail to discover a beautiful 
and refined mechanism ; but if we cast our eyes upon 
the eround, and look at heaps of gravel, sand, clay, and 
stone, it seems as if chance only had brought them 
together, and that neither symmetry nor order can be 
discovered in their nature. But a closer examination 
soon convinces us of that which, reasoning’ from the 
wisdom and designs manifested by other parts of crea- 
tion, we night beforehand have very naturally been led 
to expect, viz. that in all the varieties of form, .and. 
structure, and change, which the study of the mmeral 
kingdom displays, laws as fixed and immutable prevail, 
as in the most complicated mechanism of the human 
frame, or in the motions of the heavenly bodies ; and if 
astronomy has discovered how beautifully “ the heavens 
declare the glory of God,’ as certainly do we feel assured, 
by the investigations of geology, that the earth “ showeth 
his handy work.” 

In our next article, therefore, we shall commence that 
brief outline of geology, which we consider to be a 
necessary introduction to our proposed description of the 
chief mineral productions of our island. 


FLYING. 


Tue act of flying fs performed in the following manner :— 
The bird first launches itself in the air either by dropping 
from a height or leaping from the ground: it raises up 
at the same time the wing's, the bones of which corre- 
spond very closely to those of the human arm, the place 
of the hand, however, being: occupied by only one finger. 
It theit spreads out the wings to their full extent in a 
horizoutal direction, and presses them down upon the 
air; and by a succession of these strokes the bird rises 
up in the air with a velocity proportioned to the quick- 
ness with which they succeed each other. As the inter- 
C 2 


9 


be 


j 


‘als between the strokes are more and more lengthened, 
the bird either remains on the same level or descends. 
This vertical movement can only be performed by birds 
whose wings are horizontal, which is probably the case 
with the lark and quail. When birds fly horizontally, 
their motion is not in a straieht line, but obliquely up- 
wards, and they allow the body to come down to a lower 
level before a second stroke is made by the wings, so that 
they move in asuccession of curves. To ascend obliquely 
the wines must repeat their strokes upon the air in quick 
succession, and in descending obliquely these actions are 
proportionally slower. The tail in its expanded state 
supports the hind part of the body : when it is depressed 
while the bird is flying with great velocity, it retards the 
motion ; and by raising the hinder part of the body, it 
depresses the head. When the tail is turned up it pro- 
duces a contrary effect, aud raises the head. Some birds 
employ the tail to direct their course, by turning it to 
one side or the other in the same manner as a helm is 
used in steering a ship. We may observe that there is 
a peculiarity in the bones of birds which serves to lighten 
their bodies and greatly to facilitate their motions. A 
cousiderable portion of the skeleton is formed into recep- 
tacles for air, the interior of most bones in adult birds 
being destitute of marrow, and containing air-cells which 
communicate with the windpipe or the mouth. In 
young birds the interior of the bone is filled with mar- 
row, which, however, becomes gradually absorbed to 
make room for the admission of air. This gradual ex- 
pansion of the air-cells, and absorption of the marrow, 
can no where be observed so well as in young taine ecese 
when killed at different periods. 

¥lying is not confined to those inhabitants of the air 
which have wings composed of feathers ; there are many 
of these whose bodies are so light as not to require 
wings made of such strong materials, and which have 
them composed of thin membranes of the slightest tex- 
ture. ‘This is the case with all flying insects. The Bei, 
which belongs to the class Mammalia, is supplied with 
a kind of wing peculiar to itself, which may be con- 
sidered as an intermediate link between the wines of 
birds and those of other animals. 












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Fee Sa Sy 
a a . = 

ea ey Bea at 

9. < 


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hoot, ORG 
My . Av 


The bat’s wings are formed of membranes spread upou 
the bones which correspond to those of the arm, fore- 
arm, and hand in man, aud of the fore-leg in quadrupeds. 
So far they resemble those of birds; they differ, how- 
ever, in the materials of which they are composed, and 
in the bones bearing a closer resemblance to those of the 
human hand. They have what is peculiar to them- 
selves—a hook-like process attached to the bone of. the 
wing, by which they lay hold and support themselves 
upon the ccrnices of buildings, and so far employ their 
wings as hands. ‘These wings when extended are of 
ereat length. In the larger species found in some parts 
of India, Africa, and South America, celebrated under 
the name of Vampyres, they often measure five feet; and 
Sir Hans Sloane was in possession of a specimen brought 
from Sumatra, the wings of which measured seven feet. 
As the bat itself is not rendered buoyant by any of the 
means employed in the internal structure of birds, and as 
its wings are themselves membranes of some strength, 
great extent of surface is required in them: they are not, 
however, fitted for long flight, and must be considered 
as a very remarkable deviation from the structure of the 
bird on one part, and from that of the quadruped on the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[January 12, 


other. The only regularly formed quadruped that has 
the power of flying is the Flying Squirrel, The substi- 





tute for wines in this animal is a broad fold of the inte- 
cument spread out on each side of the body, and attached 
to the fore and hind lees, reaching as far as the feet ; so 
that by stretching out its feet it spreads this fold and 
keeps it in an extended state, in which it has a nearer 
resemblance to a parachute than a wing. Some species 
of lizards and fishes are also furnished with substitutes 
for wings, by which they are enabled to support them- 
selves in the air, and fly for short distances. In the 
Flying Fish the substitute consists ofa simple elongation 





of the pectoral fins to a sufficient extent to support the 
animal’s weight, in this respect corresponding with the 
wines of birds, since the pectoral fin of fishes is ana- 
lozxous to the anterior extremity of the other classes. 


THE URSINE BABOON, 


[From a Correspondent.] 








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“With shattered rocks loose sprinkled o’er, 
Ascends abrupt the mountain hoar, 
Whose crags o’erhang the Bushman’s cave, 
(His fortress once, and now his grave, ) 
Where the grim satyr-faced baboon 
Sits railing to the rising moon, 
Or chiding, with hoarse anery cry, 
The herdsman as he wanders by.” 


THe Ursine Baboon of South Africa (Cercopithecus 
Ursinus, or Simia Cynocephalus) is known to naturalists 
from the descriptions of Sparrman, Vaillant, Burchell, 
and other scientific travellers. It is an animal of very 


—-* 


1833} 


cousiderable strength, and attains, when full grown, the 
size of a very large Newfoundland dog. It resembles 
the dog in the shape of its head, and is covered with 
shagey hair, of a brownish colour, except on the face and 
paws, which are bare and black. On level ground it 
always goes on all-fours ; but among the rocks and pre- 
cipices, which are its natural refuge and habitation, it 
uses its hinder feet and hands somewhat as a human 
veing would do, only with inconceivably greater bold- 
ness and agility, in clambering up the crag’s, or in spring- 
ing from cliff to chiff. 

The ursine baboon is not believed to be in any degree 
carnivorous, but subsists on wild fruits, and principally on 
the numerous variety of wzntges (edible roots and bulbs), 
which abound in the districts it inhabits. ‘hese roots 
it digs ont of the earth with its paws, the nails of which, 
from this cause, are generally short, as if worn down by 
constant use; in other respects they nearly resemble 
those of the human hand. 

For defence against its enemies, such as the leopard, 
hyana, wild-dog (hyena venatica), &c. the ursine 
baboon is armed with formidable canine teeth about half 
au inch long; and, when driven to extremity, will defend 
itself successfully against the fiercest wolf-hound. It 
has a mode of grappling its antagonist by the throat 
with its fore-paws, or hands, while it tears open the 
jugnlar vein with its tusks. In this manner I have 
kuown a stout baboon despatch several dogs before he 
was overpowered; and I have been assured by the 
natives that even the leopard is sometimes defeated and 
worried to death by a troop of these animals. It is only 
collectively, however, and in large bands, that they can 
successfully oppose this powerful enemy. In many of 
the mountainous districts the leopard, it is said, subsists 
chiefly by preying upon baboons and monkeys; lying 
in wait and pouncine upon them suddenly, precisely as 
the domestic cat deals with rats. 

Though well arined for conflict, the ursine baboon, 
except in self-defence, appears to be a harmless and 
jnoffensive animal. ‘They are, it is true, occasionally 
troublesome to mankind, by robbing gardens, orchards, 
and corn-fields; but I never heard of any body being 
attacked by them, although I resided for some years in a 
spot where they are so numerous that the district takes 
its name from them, viz. Baviaans Rivier, or River of 
Baboous. ‘There is, indeed, one remarkable story told 
at the Cape of a party of these animals carrying off an 
infant from the vicinity of Wynbere, a village about 
seven miles from Cape ‘Town, and, on the alarm being 
given by the distracted mother, retreating with it to the 
summit of the precipitous mountains 3000 feet in height, 
which overhang that pleasant village. My informants, 
persons of respectability, assured me that this incident 
had occurred within their own recollection; and that the 
child was recovered by a party of the inhabitants, after 
a long, anxious, and perilous pursuit, without having 
sustained any material injury.. ‘This singular abduction, 
the only instance of the kind I ever heard of, may, after 
all, haye been prompted possibly by the erratic maternal 
feeling of some female baboon, bereaved of her own 
offspring, rather than by any ferocious or misclievous 
propensity. : 

Be this as it may, the strong attachment of these crea- 
tures to their own young is an interesting trait of their 
character. I have frequently witnessed very affecting 
instances of their attachment, when a band of them 
happened to be discovered by some of the African 
Colonists in their orchards or corn-fields. On such 
occasions, when hunted back to the mountains with does 
and euns, the females, if accidentally separated from 
their young ones, would often, reckless of their safety, 
returi. to search for them through the very midst of 
their fierce pursuers. 

On more peaceful occasions, also, I have very often 
contemplated them with great pleasure and interest, It 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 13 
is the practice of these animals to descend from their 
rocky fastnesses, in order to ehjoy themselves on the 
banks of the mountain rivulets, and to feed on the 
nutritious bulbs which grow in the rich alluvial soil of 
the valleys. While thus occupied, they usually take care 
to be within reach of some steep crag or precipice, to 
which they may fly for refuge on the appearance of an 
cnemy; ald some of their number are always stationed 
as sentinels on large stones or other elevated situations, 
in order to give timely warning to the rest of the ap- 
proacn of danger. It has frequently been my lot, when 
riding through these secluded valleys, to come suddenly, 
on turning the corner of a rock, upon a troop of forty or 
fifty baboons thus quietly congregated. Instantly on 
my appearance, a loud cry of alarm would be raised by 
the sentinels ; and then the whole band would scampex 
off with the utmost precipitation. OfF they would go, 
hobbling on all-fours, after their awkward fashion, on 
level ground; then splashing through ihe stream, if 
they had it to cross; then scrambling, with most mar- 
vellous agility up the rocky clifis, often many hundred 
feet in height, and where certainly no other creature 
without wings could possibly follow them; the large 
males bringing up the rear-guard, ready to turn with 
fury upon my hounds if they attempted to molest them ; 
the females, with their young ones in their arms, or 
clinging to their backs. ‘Thus, climbing, and chattering, 
and squalling, they would ascend the perpendicular and 
perilous-looking crags, while IT looked on and watched 
them, interested by the almost human affection which they 
evinced for their mates and their offspring ; and soine- 
times not a little amused, also, by the angry vociferation 
with which the old satyr-like leaders would scold me, 
when they had got fairly upon the rocks, and felt them- 
selves secure from pursuit. T. P. 


THE JACQUARD LOOM. 


Tue history of manufactures affords few parallels to the 
rapid and marked improvements made in the art of silk- 
weaving in this country during the last six years. 

The invention by which these improvements have been 
principally accomplished is a loom contrived by M. Jac- 
guard, and which, bearing his name, will probably prove 
a lasting record of his mechanical talents. 

Scarcely ten years have elapsed since the first iitro- 
duction of the machine into this country, yet its superiority 
over the looms formerly used for figure silk-weaving is sc 
decided, that it has entirely superseded all these, and has 
been in no small degree instrumental in bringing that 
curious and beautiful art to its present state of advance- 
ment. Through its means time is importantly economised 
in the preliminary steps, while the most difhcult part of 
the labour is so simplified that this branch of silk-weaving 
is no longer, as heretofore, confined to the most skilful 
of the craft. It is no small proof of the enterprising and 
intellizent spirit of this country that several alterations, 
by which this machine has been materially simplified 
and improved, have been already made by our working 
artisans, and are in advantageous operation; “ while in 
Lyous, the city of its birth, it still remains unaltered, 
either in form or arrangement, from the original con- 
ception of the first ingenious inventor *.” 

From the evidence given by Dr. Bowring before the 
Committee of the House of Commons appointed to 
inquire into the state of the Silk Trade, we obtain the 
following interesting particulars of M. Jacquard as related 
to Dr. Bowring by himself :-— 

He was originally a manufacturer of straw-hats, and 
it was not until the peace of Amiens that his attention 
was first attracted to the subject of mechanism. The 
communication between France and England being then 
open, an English newspaper fell into his hands. In 
this he met with a paragraph stating that a premium 


* Lardnex’s Cabingt Cyclopedia, Silk Manufacture, p. 296. 


14 


would be awarded by a society in this country to any 


person who should weave a net by machinery. ‘Lhe 
perusal of this extract awakened his latent mechanical 
powers, and induced him to turn his thoughts to the dis- 
covery of the required contrivance. He succeeded, and 
produced a net woven by machinery of his own invention. 
It seems, however, that the pleasure of success was the 
only reward which he coveted, for as soon as accomplished 
he became indifferent to the work of his ingenuity— 
threw it aside for some time, and subsequently gave it to 
a friend as a matter in which he no longer took any 
interest. ‘The net was by some means at length exhibited 
to some persons in authority, and by them sent to Paris. 
After a period had elapsed in which M. Jacquard de- 
clares that he had entirely forgotten his production, he 
was sent for by the prefect of Lyons, who asked him if 
he had not directed his attention to the making of nets 
by machinery. He did not immediately recollect the 


circtunstance to which the prefect alluded ; the net was | 


however produced, and this recalled the fact to his mind. 
‘The prefect then rather peremptorily desired him to pro- 
duce the machine by which this result had been effected. 
M. Jacquard asked three weeks for its completion; at 
the end of which time he brought his invention to the 
prefect, and directing him to strike some part of the 
inachine with his foot, a knot was added to the net. The 
ingenious contrivance was sent to Paris, and an order was 
thence despatched for the arrest of the inventor. Under 
Napoleon’s arbitrary government even the desire for the 
diffusion of improvements was evinced in a most uncon- 
ciliatory manner; and while inventions in the useful 
arts were sufficiently prized, 10 respect was paid to those 
persous by whom they were originated. Accordingly 
M. Jacquard found himself under the keeping of a 
vens-d’arine, by whom he was to be conducted to Paris 
iu all haste, so that he was not permitted even to go home 
to provide himself with the requisites for his sudden 
journey. When arrived in Paris he was required to pro- 
duce his machine at the Conservatory of Arts, and sub- 
mit it to the examination of inspectors. After this ordeal 
be was introduced to Bonaparte and to Carnot, the 
satter of whom said to him, with a look of incredulity, 
‘ Are you the man who pretends to this impossibility— 
who professes to tie a knot in a stretched string?” In 
answer to this inquiry the machine was produced and its 
operation exhibited aid explained. Thus strangely was 
M. Jacquard’s first mechanical experiment brought into 
notice aud patronised. He was afterwards required to 
examine a loom on which from twenty to thirty thousand 
francs had been expended, and which was employed in 
the production of articles for the use of Bonaparte. 
M. Jacquard offered to effect the same object by a simple 
machine, instead of the complicated one by which the 
work was sought to be performed,—and improving on a 
model of Vaucanson, produced the mechanism which 
bears his name. A pension of a thousand crowns was 
granted to him by the government as a reward for his 
discoveries, and he returned to Lyons, his native town. 
So violent, however, was the cpposition made to the intro- 
duction of his loom, and so great was the enmity he 
excited in consequence of his invention, that three times 
he with the greatest difficulty escaped with his life. The 
Conseil des Prud’ hommes, who are appointed to watch 
over the interests of the Lyonese trade, broke up his 
machine in the public place; “the iron (to use his 
ewh expression) was sold for iron—the wood for wood, 
and he, its inventor, was delivered over to universal ieno- 
miny.’ ‘Lhe ignorance and prejudice which caused the 
silk-weavers of Lyons to destroy a means of assistance to 
their labours, capable of being made a source of great 
benefit to themselves, was not dispelled till the French 
began to feel the effects of foreign competition in their 
silk manufacture. ‘hey then were forced to adopt the 
Jacquard loom, which led to such great improvement in 
their’suk weaving, and this machine is now extensively 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


L JANUARY I8, 


employed through the whole of the silk manufacturing 
districts of France as well as of lungland. 


ON THE CURE OF BURNS BY COTTON WOOL. 


Burns and scalds are probably the most common inju- 
ries to which the people of England are exposed, In our 
mines and manufactories they are constantly occurring. 
Iiven in ordinary life we hear almost daily of such acci- 
dents. It often happens that females, by standing in- 
cautiously too near a grate, set fire to their cotton dresses, 
and the flames spreading rapidly alone the soft texture 
of the cotton, soon envelope the whole of their persons. 
Reading in bed by candle-light is a frequent source of 
similar disasters. Servants again, while engaged in the 
removal of boiling water for domestic purposes, are often, 
through carelessness or accident, the subjects of scalds. 

Burns and scalds are exactly of the same nature. It 
is the intolerable heat of the liquid or of the solid sub- 
stance inflicting the injury, which is the cause of both. 
In looking, therefore, for the means of cure, we shonld 
try to discover some remedial agent which will favour, 
inthe highest degree, the restoration to a healthy state 
of those parts of the body that have been impaired or 
destroyed by the action of heat. 

The plans of treatment which have been introduced 
from time to time are various ; but they may be included 
under two heads,—namely, those of a soothing and those 
of a stimulating character. Of the stimulating class 
are spirits of turpentine, spirits of wine, whisky, brandy, 
&e., with any of which the burned parts are kept moist 
until immediate pain is subdued, and the process cf 
restoration is begun, After these changes have taken 
place, ointinents or poultices are usually had recourse to. 
Heat has been also tried as a stimulating remedy for 
burns ; and, however singular it may seem, many per- 
sous hold the parts burned near to a fire in order to re- 
move the effects of heat. The soothing class of remedies 
nicludes the application of cold water, of ice, of oils, an! 
cotion wool. . 

Cotton wool bids fair to supersede many of the com- 
mou remedies in the treatment of burns. It is said that 
cotton wool was first used with this intention in America. 
There is nothing improbable in this, for the practice is of 
recent origin, and cotton is both grown and manufac- 
tured in that country. The discovery of its sanative 
virtues has been attributed to accident. As the story 
goes,—the child of a woman who was engaged in the 
preparation of cotton, happened, in some way or other, 
to get itself extensively burned with boiling water. The 
mother, in her agony, having no person with her at the 
time, laid tlie child down in some cotton on the floor, 
which promised to be the safest and softest position, and 
hastened away to procure medical assistance. ‘The me- 
dical man of the village, however, was from home. The 
poor woman, on her return, found that the child had 
rolled about in the cotton and had become covered ir 
the burned parts with a thick coating of it. The cotton 
appeared to have produced great relief of pain; the 
child had now ceased to cry and was actually cheerful. 
Some hours elapsed before the medical attendant arrived, 
but as the child continued cheerful and the cotton had 
become pretty firmly adherent to the sores, the mother 
would not allow of its beine removed. Within the 
period of ten or twelve days the cotton began to drop 
off spontaneously; and in a fortnight from the receipt 
of the injury, the whole of it was detached, leaving a 
perfect cure,—the skin being without mark or con- 
traction, and, in short, quite natural. 

The cotton treatment has since had a pretty extensive 
trial in different parts of England and Scotland. As 
might have: been expected, scientific observation has 
enabled medical men to point out the way in which the 
cotton may be most advantageously applied, and it hag 
éiso enabled them to define the limits of its utility. 


1833.]- 


In relation to their degrees of severity, burns may be 
divided into four kinds,—Ist, When the injury is of the 
slightest nature, the skin remains of its natural eolour 
and without blisters. 2d, When the injury is somewhat 
greater, the superficial skin becomes elevated, and blisters 
are formed. 3d, When the injury is still more severe, 
the deep-seated skin is burned brown and dry, and it feels 
like leather. 4th, When the injury is of the most vio- 
lent kind, not only the deep-seated skin is scorched, but 
the parts beneath it, to a greater or less extent, are 
burned to dryness and are eonsequently dead. ‘The 
eotton treatment is little applicable to burns ‘coming 
ulder the fourth division, we shall therefore, in this place, 
speak only of its application to those of the Ist, 2d, and 
3d kinds, and more particularly to the 2d and 3d. We 
must impress upon our readers here, as we are anxious 
to do in all other cases of medical treatment, that the 
safest plan, wherever practicable, is to apply for pro- 
fessional aid. ‘The difficulty which an unprofessional 
person must always feel, is that of distinguishing between 
one class of injuries or diseases, and another elass. 
However, as burns and scalds require immediate atten- 
tion, we proceed to state the mode in which cotton may 
be employed, when no medical man is at hand. ° 

The cotton should be applied to the burned parts as 
soon after. the injury as is possible; and, if blisters 
have formed, they should not be opened. Where it 
can be done without incurring considerable delay, the 
cotton should be carded before its application into thin 
flakes. ‘These flakes should be laid on the injured part, 
and piled one on the other until they form a soft eover- 
ing, which, under high pressure, should be about an inch 
m thickness. A bandage should then be passed around 
the patient to prevent the cotton from falling off, but 
eare must be taken not to draw the bandage tight or 
allow it to press the body. Its object is simply to retain 
the eotton in its place. 

After this, the first step, is taken, nothing remains to 
be done while the cotton is observed to stick to the sur- 
face of the injured part and to remain dry. Should any 
portion of the cotton, however, become wet, either 
through the discharge of water from the blisters, or the 
formation of purulent matter, and continue wet for a day 
or two, the attendant should, at the end of that time, pick 
the wetted eotton gently away, and supply its place with 
dry cotton. The general rule, consequently, is very plain. 
While the patient is free from pain, and the cotton 
dry and adherent to the surface of the burn, no change 
should be made; but should the cotton become wet at 
any part, and eontinue so for a day or two, the wetted 
portion is to be removed, and its place supplied with dry 
cotton. ‘Ihe treatment is to be conducted thus until the 
cure is completed. 

The manner in which cotton acts in the eure of burns 
is very evident. It excludes the air and forms a warm 
aud soft covering for the injured parts. Under this pro- 
tection, the restorative powers of nature quickly repair 
the injury. Every day’s experience tends to prove that 
the less we interfere with those powers, or permit them 
to be interfered with, in the medical treatment of super- 
ficial burns occurring amongst persons of healthy con- 
stitutions, the more successful will be the practice. 





THE BATTLE OF CORUNNA. 


Tue 16th of January is the anniversary of the battle 
of Corunna, and the death of: the grallant Sir John 
Moore. The French invasion of Spain and Portugal in 
the beginning of the year 1808 was one of the most 
unprovoked and indefensible aggressions ever perpe- 
trated. The scheme for the conquest and partition of 
the latter kingdom is supposed to have been arranged in 
October, 1807, between Bonaparte and Godoy, called the 
Prince of the Peace, the infamous minion of the Spanish 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


15 


Queen and her imbecile and degraded husband Charles I'V. 
In March, 1808, the national spirit: of the Spaniards, 
fired at the weakness with which their Sovereign was 
surrendering the independence of the country into the 
hands of the French Emperor, broke out at Aranjuez 
and Madrid into tumultuous insurrection, and compelled 
Charles to abdicate in favour of his eldest son, Ferdinand, 
Prince of Asturias. Soon after this, however, Bona- 
parte eontrived to inveigle both Ferdinand and his father 
to Bayonne in France, where he induced them in the 
beginning of May to surrender all their claims upon the 
Spanish crown in favour of himself or his nominee; and 
then, having shut up his prisoners, with the other 
branches of the royal family whom he had contrived ta 
get into his hands, in an old castle in Champagne, he 
caused his brother Joseph, then King of Naples, to be 
proclaimed on the 24th of July the successor to the 
vacant throne. In exchange he sent his brother-in-law 
Murat to the Neapolitans. Before this, however, the 
indignation of the people of Spain had organized a 
formidable resistance to the foreign usurper; patriotic 
associations had been formed in many of the principal 
towns, which were under the direction of a presiding 
junta at Seville; and deputies had been despatched froin 
Asturia to request the assistance of England, where 
they arrived on the 6th of June. The required aid was 
rendered by this country liberally, and as it were by 
acclamation: on the 12th of July Sir Arthur Wellesley 
set sail from Cork in command of a large force ; on the 
2\st of August he beat the French General Junot at 
Vimiera, and on the 30th of the same month, by what 
was ealled the Convention of Cintra, the French troops 
agreed to evacuate Portugal. ‘he next expedition de- 
spatched to the Peninsula was that commanded by Sir 
John Moore. ‘This officer, who was the eldest son of 
Dr. John Moore, the well-known author of ‘ Zeluco,’ 
and other able works, was born at Glasgow on the 13th 
of November, 1761, and had served with distinction in 
various quarters of the globe. He was appointed Com- 
mander-in-Chief of the Forces in Spain and Portugal 
on the 6th of October. Soon after this he commenced 
his advance into the interior of the Peninsula, ‘in which 
he persevered till he reached Salamanca. ‘The force, 
however, which he had under his command was utterly 
insufficient to eope with the gigantie armament which 
Bonaparte had by this time collected to maintain his 
brother’s throne. According to Colonel Napier, Moore 
had only 24,000 men to oppose 330,000 of the enemy. 
In these circumstances nothing could be done by the 
English without the most general and most zealous 
co-operation on the part of the natives. This co-opera- 
tion, or any cordial disposition to afford it, Sir John 
Moore could not perceive to exist; and it must be con- 
fessed that his situation was extremely difficult, embar- 
rassing, and discouraging. Meantime, while he was de- 
liberating as to the prudence of continuing his advance, 
intelligence reached him of an important advantage 
wained by the enemy. This at once determined him to 
commence his retreat to the coast, as his only chance of 
preserving his troops. Accordingly, on the 26th of De- 
cember, he began his ronte towards Vigo, in the north 
west corner of Spain, but was soon after induced to alter 
his course for the port of Corunna, still farther to the 
north. This march of two hundred and fifty miles, over 
a country almost without roads, in tlie depth of winter, 
with an army dispirited and disorganized, and pursued 
by superior numbers flushed with recent triumph, must 
ever rank with the ablest military achievements of ancient 
or modern times. It was effected amidst terrible priva- 
tion, suffering, and loss of life; but at length, on the 
16th of January, 1809, about 14,500 of the troops 
reached the ncighpourhood of the place of embarkation. 
Marshal Soult, however, with a body of not less than 
20,000 men under his command, was close upon them, 
and ready to attack them before they could complete 


16 


their preparations for going on board the ships. It was 
resolved, therefore, to offer battle to the enemy. ‘The 
French made the attack about two o'clock in the after- 
noon, and for a time had the advantage ; but Moore 
then ordered an advance of a part of his troops, who 
soon turned the tide of the contest. The French 
were repulsed at every point; and the English were 
allowed to embark without molestation. But the life of 
their gallant commander paid for the victory. “ Sir 
John Moore,” says Colonel Napier, ‘ while earnestly 
watching the result of the fight about the village of 
Kilvina, was struck on the left breast by a cannon shot ; 
the shock threw him from his horse with violence; he 
rose again in a sitting posture ; his countenance un- 
changed, and his steadfast eye still fixed upon the regi- 
ments engaged in his front; no sigh betrayed a sensation 
of pain; but, in a few moments, when he was satisfied 
that the troops were gaining ground, his countenance 
brightened, and he suffered himself to be taken to the 
rear. ‘Shen was seen the dreadful nature of his hurt; 
the shonlder was shattered to pieces, the arm was 
hanging by a piece of skin, the ribs over the heart 
broken and bared of flesh, and the muscles of the 
breast torn into long strips, which were interlaced 
by their recoil from the dragging of the shot. As the 
soldiers placed him in a blanket his sword got entangled, 
and the hilt entered the wound. Captain Hardinge, a 
siall officer, who was near, attempted to take it off; but 
the dying man stopped him, saying, ‘ It is as well as it 
is. 1 had rather it should go out of the field with me.’ 
And in that manner, so becoming a soldier, Moore was 
borne from the fight. * * * The blood flowed fast, and 
the torture of his wound increased ; but such was the 
unshaken firmness of his mind, that those about him, 
judging from the resolution of his countenance that his 
hurt was not mortal, expressed a hope of his recovery. 
Hearing this, he looked steadfastly at the injury for a 
moment, and then said, ‘ No; I feel that to be impos- 
sible. Several times he caused his attendants to stop 
and turn him round, that he might behold the field of 
battle ; and when the firing indicated the advance of the 
British, he discovered his satisfaction, and permitted the 
bearers to proceed. Being brought to his lodgings the 
surgeons examined his wound, but there was no hope; 
the pain increased, and he spoke with ereat difficulty. 
At intervals he asked if the French were beaten, and, 
addressing his old friend Colonel Anderson, he suid, 
‘You know that I always wished to die this way.’ 
Again he asked if the enemy were defeated, and being 
told they were, observed, ‘It is a great satisfaction to 
me to know we have beaten the French. His counte- 
nance continued firm, and his thoughts clear; once only, 
when he spoke of his mother, he became agitated. He 
inquired after the safety of his friends and the officers 
of his staff; and he did not even in this moment forget 
to recommend those whose merit had given them claims 
to promotion. His strength was failing fast, and life 
was just extinct, when, with an unsubdued spirit, as if 
auticipating the baseness of his posthumous calumniators, 
he exclaimed, ‘I hope the people of England will be 
satisfied. I hope my country will do me justice. The 
battle was scarcely ended when his corpse, wrapped in a 
inilitary cloak, was interred by the officers of his staff in 
the citadel of Corunna. The guns of the enemy paid 
his funeral honours, and Soult, with a noble feeling of re- 
spect for his valour, raised a monument to his memory.” 
Lhe death of Sir John Moore has furnished the sub- 
ject of a poem of extraordinary beauty, the author of 
which was long unknown. It is now ascertained to be 


the production of one whose compositions were few, and 
who died youns— Wolfe. 


* Not a drum was heard, not a funeral-note, 
As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell-shot 
O’er the grave where our hero we buried. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[January 12, 1833. 


We buried him darkly at dead of might, 
The sods with our bayonets turning, 

By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light, 
And the lantern dimly burning. 


No uscless coffin enclosed his breast, 
Not in shect or in shroud we wonnd him; 
But he lay ]ihe a warrior taking his rest, 
With Ins martial cloak around him. . 


Few and short were the prayers we said, 
And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 

But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, 
And we bitterly thought of the morrow. | 


We thought, as we hollow’d his narrow bead, 
And smooth’d down his lonely pillow, 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er lus head. 
And we far away on the billow! 


Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone, 
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him,— 

But little he’ll reek, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 


But half of our heavy task was done, 
When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; 
And we heard the distant and random gun 
That the foe was sullenly firing. 


Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; 

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone— 
But we left him alone with his glory!” 


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#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge Is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. ; 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the following 
Booksellers, of whom, also, any of dhe previous Numbers may be had: — 


London, Groompripas, Panyer Alley. } Manchester, Ropinson; and WesB and 
Bath, Simos. SIMMS, : 

Birmingham, DRAKE. Newcastle-upon-Tyneé, CHARNLEY 
Bristol, WesTLEY and Co. Norwich, JARROD and Son. 
Carlisle, THURNAM 3 and Scorr. Nottingham, WricHrT. ; 
Derby, W1LKINs and Son, Orford, SUATTER. 

Devonport, Byers. Plymouth, NETLLETON, 

Doncaster, Brooke and Co, Portsea, Horsry, Jun. 
Evweter, BALLE. Shefficld, Ripae. . 
Falmouth, Pui. Staffordshire, Lane End, C. Warts. : 
Hull, STEPHENSON. TForcester, DEIGHTON. 

Kendal, Wunson and Niciiorson. Dublin, WAKEMAN, 

Leeds, Barnes and NEwsomeE. Edinburgh, OLivER and Boyp, 
Iincoln, Brooxe and Sons. Glusgow, ATKINSON and Co, 
Liverpool, WiLLmMER and SMITH. few York, JACKSON. 





Printed by Witn1am Crowes, Stamford Street. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





al. | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [January 19, 1833. 


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Vou. II. D 


18 THE PENNY 
PAUL PREACHING AT ATHENS. 

Ons of the leading excellences of Raffaelle is the clear 
and perspicuous arrangement of his subiect.  HEven 
Michael Angelo, notwithstanding his astonishing’ power 
in the invention of single groups, is comparatively defi- 
cient m the. conduct of a whole composition; and this 
remark will apply more or less to all the masters of the 
Ronran school, if put in competition with Raffaelle. 
Whe Venetian painters, with the exception of ‘Titian, 
sacrificed, without scruple, sentiment, propriety, and 
character, for the sake of dazzling the eye. We are 
enabled by this species of comparison to appreciate more 
fully the excellence of Raffaelle, whose compositions, 
although he never sacrifices the higher to the more 
superficial qualities of art, present us with the richest 
and most picturesque combinations. <A fine example of 
this excellence is furnished in the Cartoon of Paul preach- 
ing at Athens, engraved in the present number. This 
work, regarded merely as a composition of lines, and with- 
out adverting to the sentiment of it, is a finished example 
cf laborious and beautiful arrangement; but when we 
consider it in reference to character, expression, and the 
manner in which the story is told, we are almost tempted 
to think that it holds the first place even among the pro- 
ductions of Raffaelle himself. 

St. Paul, having been challenged by the philosophers 
of Athens to a public declaration of his doctrines in the 
Areopagns, has ascended the steps of a temple, where 
with uplifted hands he makes the solemn announcement, 
Ye men of Athens! I have seen in your city an altar to the 
Unknown God, Him I declare unto you! His discourse 
involves in its general tenor all the leading points of the 
Christian dispensation,—the immortality cf the soul, the 
resurrection, and the redemption. The effect produced 
on nis anditory is such as might be anticipated from the 
promulgation of a doctrine so new and so important. 
The persons who surround him are not to be considered 
a mere promiscuous assemblage of individuals. Among 
them, several figures may each be said to personify a 
class; and the different sects of Greeian philosophy may 
be easily distinguished. Here the Cynie, revolving 
deeply, and fabricating objections; there the Stoic, lean- 
“ng on his staff, giving a steady but scornful attention, 
and fixed in -stinate incredulity ; there the disciples of 
Plato, not conceding a full belief, but pleased at least 
with the beauty of the doctrine, and listening with erati- 
fied attention. Farther on is a promiscuous eroup of 
disputants, sophists, and free-thinkers, engaged in vehe- 
ment discussion, but apparently more bent on exhibiting 
their own ingenuity than anxious to elicit truth or ac- 
knowledge conviction. At a considerable distance in the 
back-ground are seen two doctors of the Jewish law, 
who have listened to the discourse, rejected the mission, 
and turned their backs on the speaker and the place. 
On the first glance at the cartoon the eye is arrested by 
the figure of St. Paul, which the painter has invested 
with every cireumstance which ean give it dignity and 
Importance. We learn from the Apostle himself that 
his exterior was not imposing; but Raffaelle, knowing 
that painting can express its meaning only through the 
medium of form, has departed from the literal faet, and 
given him an appearance corresponding to the sacredness 
of his character. He stands in front, on an elevated 
site, and considerably apart from his audience. His 
action unites the almost incompatible qualities of sedate- 
ness and energy. It is simple and majestic, but kindled 
by divine enthusiasm; and we are at once impressed with 
the idea that he is pouring forth a torrent of eloquence 
overwhelming and irresistible, The immediate efiect, as 
well as the eventual triumph of his doctrine, is intimated 
bythe conversion of Damaris, and of Dionysius the Areo- 
pagite, the foremost persons in the picture, who announce, 
with impassioned looks and gestures, their renuncia- 
tion of idolatry, and acceptance of the Christian faith. 


MAGAZINE. [January 19, 

The buildings which occupy the back-eround (al- 
though betraying some inconsistencies in point of archi- 
tectural style) are in themselves beautiful objects ; but 
they are immediately connected with the subject, being 
the temples of the Pagan deities, whose idolatrous wor- 
ship the Apostle is denouncing. These edifices may be 
considered also, together with the statues which surround 
them, to characterize the city of Athens, the mother of 
arts, and_the seat of taste, wealth, and splendour. 
Throughout the works of Raffaelle, in the subordinate ' 
as well as the principal parts, we perceive the same 
penetrating intelligence ; and these Cartoons especially, 
beyond any works of art extant, may be pronouneed to 
be abstractions of pure intellect. We cannot forbear 
repeating a wish which we have already expressed, that 
When the new National Gallery is finished, these noble 
works may be removed to it: if it may be hoped that a 
taste for historic art will ever be created in this country, 
we can imagine nothing more likely to promote that 
object, than giving the public opportunity for the habitual 
eontemplation of the Cartoons. 


ete wae Ee 


JESCHYLUS. 


We have already presented our readers with an extract 
from one play of Aischylus, which may serve to give 
some idea of his style. We now propose to give another 
from the play of the Persians, which was written a few 
years after the destruction of the navy of Xerxes in the 
ereat sea-fight of Salamis, s.c. 480. The position of 
Salamis, with respect to the neighbouring coast of Attica, 
may be seen in any correct map. 

In the Greek tragedies, it was not the practice for the 
main event, or the great catastrophe, of the piece to be ex- 
hibited on the stage ; but instead of this a messenger comes 
in, and tells the story. Atossa, the mother of Xerxes, while 
Waiting in the royal palace of Susa (the Shushan of the 
Scriptures) in anxious expectation to hear something 
about her son, receives the intelligence of the total 
destruction of the Persian armament by the combined 
Grecian fleet. After this announcement the messenger 
proceeds to describe that memorable conflict in which 
Auschylus himself was engaged. 

Messenger. ‘The cause of all the mischief, O Queen, 
was an evil-minded spirit or demon coming, nobody 
knows wherefrom. For a Greek from the army of the 
Athenians told your son Xerxes, that as soon as the 
darkness of black night came, the Greeks wonld not 
stay, but springing on tle benches®* of their ships would 
seck to save their lives by stealthy flight, each as he 
best could. As soon as Xerxes heard this, not discover- 
ing the guile of the Greek, nor the malevolence of the 
Ciod, he gives these orders to all the commanders of 
ships:—-When the sun has ceased to burn the earth 
with his rays, and darkness has filled the cireuit of the 
heavens, place a compact body of ships in three lines to 
watch the outlets and the narrow passes in which the 
waters roar.—And other ships he bade them place around 
the island of Ajax (Salamis); and should the Greeks 
avoid a wretched fate by a stealthy flight in their ships, 
the sentenee was that every eaptain should lose his head. 
Thus he spake with a heart full of pride, for he knew 
not what was coming from the Gods. Not reluctant, 
but with obedient spirit, they got ready their evening 
meal, and every seaman strung his oar to the well- 
fitted peg. When the heht of the sum had faded, and 
night had eome on, every master of an oar stepped on 
shipboard, and every man at arms. And each line of 
ships ealled to its neighbour, and they sailed cach in his 
station ; and all meht lone the commanders of the ships 
kept the naval force eruising about. Night passed on; 
but the Greeian armament were making 10 preparation to 
escape m secret. For soon as Day with lus white horseg 

* The ships, or rather long boats, were worked by oars, 


1833.1 


spread over the white earth, gloriously bright to behold, 
With a loud noise sprung a joyful shout like a song from 
the Greeks, and at the same time Echo called out in 
reply from the island rocks. Fear fell on the barbarians 
who were balked in their hopes, for the Greeks sung 
then the sacred pean, not as if they thought of flight, 
but like men rushing to the battle with courageous 
daring. And the trumpet with its voice urged them on. 
With the well-timed stroke of the dashing oar they beat 
the roaring sea to the word of command, and quickly 
the whole fleet was full in view. First came the right 
wing in good array; behind followed all the fleet, and 
now we heard the sound of many voices: Sons of the 
Greeks, advance, save your native land, and save your 
children and your wives, and the temples of your fathers’ 
gods, and your fathers tombs: now you fight for all. 
On our part a shout in the Persian tongue replied ; 
and the moment of action was no longer delayed. 
Straightway ship dashed against ship with its brazen 
beak: a Grecian ship began the conflict and broke off 
the head of a Phoenician galley; and each drove his 
ship against his adversary. At first the tide of the 
Persian army resisted; but when the ships were crowded 
in a narrow space, and there was no help from one 
another, then were they struck by the brazen-armed 
beaks of friendly ships, their oars were broken and swept 
away, while the Grecian ships skilfully attacked them on 
all sides. And the hulls of ships were turned bottom 
upward, and the sea could no Jonger be seen, so full 
was it of wrecks and human bodies. ‘Tlie shores too and 
the rocks that heaved their backs above the waves were 
full of the dead, and every ship of the barbarian army 
was urged along by the rowers in unseemly flight. But 
the Greeks, as the fishermen do with tunnies or a cast of 
fish, struck the floating wretches with fragments of oars, 
and pieces of wreck, and cleft them in twain; and groans 
with shrieks overspread the surface ofthe sea, till the eye 
of dark night took them away. But the fulness of our 
evils, even were I to go on telling for ten days in succes- 
sion, | could not measure out to thee; for be well assured 
that never before did so many men die on one day. 
CHEAP BOOKS. 


(The ninth number of the ‘ Quarterly Journal of Education’ contains 
the following statements, in illustration of the principle upon which 
books in large demand may be sold at a very low price.] 


Ir has been well observed in the posthumous work of an 
acute thinker, Chenevix, that “the bent of civilization is to 
make good things cheap.’ We will endeavour to explain 
this as regards printing, by a few facts, to show that the 
extension of the market, whilst it diminishes price, does not 
deteriorate quality. 
dhere are certain expenses of a book which are perma- 
nent, whatever number be sold. These expenses are— 
J. Authorship. 
2. Embellishments. i 
3. Composition of types, including stereotype plates, 
if that process be employed. 
4. Advertising. 
Now, it must be evident, if 1000 purchasers co-operate 
to pay those permanent expenses, the proportion to each 
purchaser can only be half as much as if there were only 500 


purchasers. Takean octavo volume, for example, and assume 
the following items of expense :— 


PRetiereqgmamee.: , me © sr200 
At a a eee. oe. oe «60 
SompesiiomOltymeme. . . + ws. 75 
BOvclrusiNg | aus cee & » + 50 

3725 


If 500 copies only of this octavo volume be estimated to 
be sold, the price which the publisher must fix upon it must 
be such as to cover an outlay, to be incurred in such per- 
manent expenses alone, of 15s. per copy ;—if 1000 copies 
be estimated to be sold, the expense of these items upon 
each copy is reduced to 7s. 6d.; if 2000, to 3s. 9d.; if. 3000, 
to 2s. 6d. The greater, therefore, the probable number of 
purchasers, the cheaper the book can be sold. It is the pro- 


YHE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


19 


vince of the publisher ngatly to calculate these chances, Tf 
he fix a high price, and have a large sale, there are creat 
profits to the publisher, and in many cases to the author: if 
the high price so fixed, or any other cause, prevent a large 
sale, the profits are small, or there is a loss :-—if a low price 
is fixed, and the sale be at the same time small, the losses 
are considerable. It is this uncertainty which renders the 
business of publishing so much a matter of speculation: and 
in this respect it is a very unsatisfactory business to those 
who follow it. 

Let us apply this principle to such a work as the Penny 
Magazine. We will take the permanent expenses at 40/., 
for a single number. These are the expenses, be it remem- 
bered, which are incurred whether 200 or 200,000 copies are 
sold—the expenses previous to the employment of a single 
sheet of paper or a single hour's labour in printing off the 
copies. forty pounds contain 9600 pence; so that if 10,000 
copies only were sold, the publisher would give away his 
paper and print, and pay the profit of the retailer. At that 
rate of sale a penny magazine must of necessity be a two- 
penny magazine, or the work could not go on without the sub 
scriptions of individuals. But if 20,000 purchasers co-ope- 
rate to pay the 9600 pence, the penny that formerly bore 
upon each copy is reduced to a halfpenny ; if 40,000 co-ope- 
rate, it is reduced to a farthing. But the sheet of paper and 
the printing off still cost somewhat mere than a half- 
penny—and as the various wholesale and retail 2valers 
who manage the sale are allowed about forty per cent., the 
paying point is not yet reached ;---it begins at about 60,000 
or 70,000 ; and after that sale there is aprofit. A sale of 
60,000 or 70,000 is therefore essential to the commercial 
existence of such a work as the Penny Magazine ;—that is 
that number of purchasers must co-operate to pay the ex 
penses which are absolutely necessary to be incurred before 
a single copy is sold. 3 





MINERALE KINGDOM W—Section 2. 

In furtherance of the design expressed in our last num 
ber, we now proceed to lay before our readers a brief 
general outline of the leading doctrines of geology, such as 
they are now generally received. The term is derived from 
two Greek words meaning a discourse (logos), respecting 
the earth (gea), and we have already explained the 
objects of inquiry which this department of science com- 
prehends. In giving tlils outline it must be borne in 
mind that it is not our purpose to give even an elemen- 
tary treatise on geology, but solely to render our descrip- 
tions of some .of the principal mineral productions that 
we meet with in common life more intelligible. We mean 
to confine ourselves to the great general truths which 
have been discovered, and that, too, without entering 
upon any detail of the proofs and reasonings upon which 
these have been established: to have gone into these, 
so as to serve any useful purpose, would have required 
us to enter into discussions inconsistent with the plan of 
our publication. If, therefore, some of our statements 
shall seem startling, and even improbable, as they are 
very likely to do to such of our readers as come new ta 
the consideration of the subject, they must either give us 
credit for advancing nothing but what is admitted by 
men of science as an established truth, or they must 
take the trouble to investigate the subject for themselves, 
and satisfy their doubts by applying at the original 
sources of information. We shall avoid, as much as 
possible, the employment of terms that are not likely to 
be understood by the generality of readers; but we may. 
be sometimes unable entirely to fulfil our wish in that 
respect, especially in naming rocks and minerals. To 
vive by words alone such a description of a stone that a 
true image of it can be presented to the mind of the 
reader, is impossible ; the substance itself must be seen; 
but it is not necessary for our present purpose that more 
should be known about mineral bodies, than what- it is 
in the power of every one who will Jook a little about 
him in the ordinary course of life. af 

It may be necessary to remind our readers that the 
earth is a round body of a somewhat flattened shape, the 
diameter from pole to pole being about twenty-seven 


D2 


20 
miles less than that passing through the equator; that 
more than three-fifths of its surface is covered by the 
ocean; that the land rises from tlie surface of the sea in 
the form of islands and of great continuous masses called 
continents, without any regularity of outline, either where 
it comes in contact with the water, orin vertical elevation,— 
its surface being diversified by plains, valleys, hills, and 
mountains, which sometimes rise to the height of twenty- 
six thousand feet above the level of the sea. Numerous 
soundings in different parts of the world have shown 
that the bottom of the ocean is as diversified by inequa- 
lities as the surface of the land: a great part of it is 
unfathomable to us, and the islands and continents 
which rise above its surface, 
mountains, the intervening valleys lyimg in the deepest 
abysses. 

Different climates produce different races of animals, 
and different fami!<s of plants; but the mineral king- 
dom, as far as the navare of stone is concerned, is inde- 
pendent of the influence of climate, the same rocks 
being found in the polar and in the equatorial regions. 
Although there is considerable diversity in tlie struc- 
ture of the earth, it is not in any degree connected 
with particular zones, as far as relates to circumstances 
which are external to it; nor can we say that the 
wonderful action which burning mountains tell us is 
going on in its interior, is confined to any part of the 
sphere, for the volcanic fires of Iceland burn as fiercely 
as those that burst forth under the line. rom all the 
observations hitherto made, there 1s no reason to suppose 
that any unexplored country contains mineral bodies 
with which we are not already acquainted; and although 
we cannot say beforehand of what rocks an unexamined 
land is likely to be composed, it is extremely improbable 
that any extensive series of rocks should be found, con- 
stituting a class different from any which have been 
already met with in other parts of the globe. 

When we dig through the vegetable soil, we usually 
come to clay, sand, or gravel, or to a mixture of these 
unconsolidated materials; and, in some countries, we 
shall probably find nothing else, at the greatest depths 
to which we are able to penetrate. But in most places, 
after getting through the clay and gravel, we should 
come upon a hard stone, lying in layers or beds parallel 
to each other, either of one kind or of different kinds ac- 
cording to the depth; and which would vary in different 
countries, and in different places in the same country, 
as well in its constituent parts, as in the thickness, alte- 
ration, and position of its beds or layers. It has been 
ascertained by the observations of geologists, in various 
parts of the world, that the crust of the earth is composed 
of aseries of such layers, distinguishable from each other 
by very marked characters in their internal structure. 
The elements of which they are composed are not very 
numerous, being for the most part the hard substance 
called quartz by mineralogists, of which eun-flints may 
be cited as a familiar example, these being wholly com- 
posed of it, and the well-known substances, clay and 
jimestone ; but these elements are agvregated or mixed 
up together in so many proportions and forms, as to 
wroduce a considerable variety of rocks. Besides this 
elementary composition, or what may be termed their 
simple structure, the greatest proportion of the rocks that 
are so arranged in layers contain foreign bodies, such as 
fragments of other rocks, shells, bones of land and am- 
phibious animals and of fishes, and portions of trees and 
plants. It has further been found that these different 
layers or sérata, as they are scientifically called (from the 
plural of the Latin word stratum, signifying .a bed), lie 
upon each other in a certaln determinate order, which is 
mever, in any degree, inverted. Suppose the series of 
straia to be represented by the letiers of the alphabet, A 
being the stratum nearest the surface, and Z the lowest : 


A is never found below Z nor under any other of the) 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


are the summits of 


bers of that series. 
this knowledge of the determinate order of succession 


[JANUARY 19, 


intervening letters ; nor is Z ever found above any of the 
letters that stand before it in the alphabet; and so it is 
with all the strata represented by the other letters. ‘This 
will be rendered more clear by the annexed diagram, 
which is an imaginary section of the crust of the globe, 
representing a series of different strata. On one side 
there is a general description of the nature of the stone ; 
on the other the name of some particular place where that 
stratum is to be seen. It must not however be imagined, 
although this regularity 22 the order of snperposition 
exists, that all the different members of the series always 
occur together; on the contrary, there is no instance 
where they have all been found in one place. It possibly 
may happen that where C is found in a horizontal position, 
by going deeper all the rest would follow in succession, 
but this we can never know, as the thickness wonld be 
infinitely beyond our means of penetrating; and there 
are reasons which render the existence of such an unin 
terrupted series extremely improbable. It very seldom 
happens that more than three or four members of the 
series can be seen together ;—we say of the series, because 
each member is composed of an almost infinite number 
of subordinate layers. This order of succession, estab- 
lished by geologists, has been determined by the combi- 
nation of many observations made in different countries 
at distant points. The order of three or four members 
was ascertained in one place; the wpper stratum in that 
place was found to be the lowest member of a second 
series in another place, and the lowest stratum at the 
first station was observed to be the uppermost at a third 
point; and in like manner the order of superposition was 
discovered throughout the whole range. Neither is it to 
be supposed that the strata which lie next each other in 
the diagram are always so in nature; as for instance, 
that wherever G is found associated with another nem- 
ber it is always either with }* above it or H_ below it 

if very often happens that T° lies npon H, G being alto- 
gether absent; and C may even be seen lying on R, the 
waole of the intervening members of the series being 
wanting. Wery frequently one of the lowest members 
of the series appears at the surface. Iivery one knows 
that sometimes chalk, sometimes slate, les immediately 
beneath the vegetable soil, or even at the surface with- 
out that scanty covering; but if a lower member of the 
series represented in the diagram be seen at the sur- 
face, however deep we might go, we should never find 
any one of those rocks that belong to the higher mem- 
‘he immense practical advautage of 


will be seen at once; for if O, or,any of the lower mem- 
bers of the series, were found to occupy the surface of 
the country, it would be at once known that all search 
for coal in that spot would be fruitless. 

Our readers will doubtless be curious to know by 
what means geologists have been enabled so decidedly to 
fix the above order of succession. If they had had nothing 
to depend upon but the mineral composition of the rock, 
(what we have termed its simple structure), they would 
never liave arrived at this knowledve; for as far as that 
is concerned, rocks are met with among the upper mem- 
bers of the series, which cannot be distinguished from 
those in the lower beds. ‘They have arrived at the im- 
portant conclusion by a far less fallible guide; for every 
stratum contains, within its own domain, records of its 
past history, .written.in characters intelligible to all 
nations, which no possible events can falsify or destroy, 
and which have enabled the geologists to arrive at some 
conclusions possessing all the certainty of mathematical 
demonstration. But to keep within our prescribed 
limits, and at the same time avoid the inconvenience of 
breaking offin the midst of this subject, we must defer to 
our next paper on the Mineral Kingdom tle account of 
these curious documents of the ancient history of the 
earth, 


1833.} THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 21 


(DIAGRAM, No. 1.) 


Orper or SUCCESSION OF THE DIFFERENT LAYERS OF Rocks WHICH CoMPOSE THE Crust or THE Earrn. 











awn eee 


Nature of the different kinds of Rocks and Soils. Instances where they are found. 








ey ee 
ty ane 
etn tty 


+ ate ae 
ey ‘eels ea watt 
se KY Pearce oe 


A. Vegetable soil ...cescceesceeccecccece 





uel 1, with bones of animals ' 
dnctecist ......... Mouth of Thames and other rivers. 
Deep beds of gravel, large loose blocks, | 
C. sand—all contaimng bones of animals Surface of many parts of England, and especially 
belonging to species now extinct ...... the eastern and south-eastern parts. 


Hampstead Heath, Bagshot Heath, coast of 
Suffolk and Norfolk—stone of which Windsor 
Castle is built. 


a Ly 2 Ye LIE! TN. : 
[water of limestones,containing fresh- Vddddddddddddddltl Yip 
EK. 


sandstone—many sca sliells, bones of ex- 
tinct species of animals ......eeeeees 


ss clay, pebbles, beds of hard white 
D. 






























me a 
eae 4 ff WY E 
¢ 4 
@e¢ 


water shells, clays of different qualittes, ee SA TT Isle of Wight. 


ee vie ee s 
ee<eveg 









@ee2eeq@trze 





Tertiary Strata. 
Pa el z: ee 





and limestones containing marine shells. YY, Wy 
e . eS ~ ae Ps < — aan 
Thick beds of clay, with many sea shells ; Coe tate Mn foresee et oS Many piaces round London, great part of Essex, 
F beds of lhmestone—remains of extinct cleo alee ec eon ore ¢ and north-east of Kent, Isle of Sheppey. 
: species of plants and frts, land and a nr eo 
“1° ° Sr 4 
all hibiou a eee NEO OO Whe ee ee vy ; ears 
amphibious ani 7 Meh, Moly erate Woolwich, Cliffs at Harwich, Isle of Wight. 
. ‘ re tea” Ae Gi es ; : . 
Chalk with flints rar a a oe et et es Be Se “é re ‘4 oe as -" ec = c Dover Cliffs, Brighton, Hertfordshire. 


_ without flints ......csccecseveens Flamborough Head in Yorkshire. 
RUT Mee. ce eee ew cee | Many parts of south coast, Kentish rag. 


ST Gail... cele ccc cane Many parts of Kent and Sussex. 
eae eS OL CM. 66. ee eee The Weald of Kent, Surrey, and Sussex. 


Neighbourhood of Hastings and Isle of Purbeck. 
Flat pavement of London, very often. 


d. Yellow sand, with beds of iron ore..... 
e. Argillaceous sandstone .....eeeeseees 


. Limestones of different qualities ...... Portland building stone. 








ee re 


b. Beds of clay. eeeceeeveeseeeeensneeeeeer <== : K3 mmeridge, on coast of Dorsetshire. 
Greemieemomes Wath COrals.,. 1... cee e eee iyi, Nei pourhood of Oxford. 


———~r 




















‘A, 7, 
Cog a IR oc Orr eietetcke ve Sess coke cfese* «| Extensively in Lincolnshire fen clay. 
4) Sige 7 





oe eee 





e Uniek beds "of limestone ........- 00. ee =| Bath builditig stone. 


\f. Thin beds of limestone and slaty clay .. Whitby, Gloucester, Lyme Regis. 
oe L, ys pene ave 


Wi 





























Red marly sandstone, often containing ere eee ee eoce ¢| Great part of East Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire; 
beds of alabaster or plaster-stone, and Gar cae Stafford, Warwick, Worcester, Cheshire, and 
} ca c¢CGececre = cc fF ¢ ‘ : 
WSUPPOINIIIE BAL, once et ccc cc ec eens BT CaS = a neighbourhood of Carlisle. 
<3 eceaodcciac ~eaoe ao & 
2 —— —— a = = e e e 
£ —- a. h SSS | Sunderland, Ferrybridge in Yorkshire, Mansfield, 
4 imestone containing much magnesia ... ———— Notts. 
S } cilia 
S Coar Muasures, containing various Se aes Newcastle, many parts of Yorkshire, Lancashire, 
W seams of coal—beds of ironstone, clay, es Staffordshire, Somersetshire, vale in which 
sandstone, and freestones of various qua- ee Edinburgh and Glasgow are situated, South 
Se VV ales. of 
_ = — SS ee rv, 
4 KM Minton eee : 
Coarse sandstone and slaty clay ee o eae ae Ue — % panies eM TS) Millstones of Newcastle and Derbyshire 
Rene Ae ee 












“4! Teposits of the lead ore of Derbyshire, Yorkshire, 


yee 































































ne —— : i ; 
ee beds of limestone, and slaty clay Wille ll Wllddiddlldic UY Northumberland, Cumberland, ct i," 
aud sandstone, in many alternations ... PD eP TEE. Derbyshire, mountains 10 Yorks ire, Mendip 
mn Soret Hilly, Somerset. 
een ne ee dshire, and south-east part 
Dark re ; wa REE SoHE TY Great part of Herefor : : 
\ wiles ee? wet many beds of ese ee eee of South Wales, Banks of the Wye, south of 
®eeeseeeeeeeoeee fFeeeteve see Ge ¢ a Sg aS ee Scotland. 

aT ee Oe a 

Thick beds of slate and sandstone, with SET One| Cumberland and Westmorland Nee great 
4 x » e . rx . MPL tft, Gt tif t Vt, ; r , " 

sometimes impressions of shells, with YY GO Vl jy part of Wales, north of : om : os f a 
thick beds of limestone ...,......06- SS SSS SS and Cornwall, great part of south of Scotland. 

DEE GEE LEED 





“se SHILA LAC FALIL 7 ft 






























cs =e Oe 

bard e ° = Lae a —— 

cs Slates and many hard rocks lying in alter- | . 

3 LLL. ighlands of Scotland. 

an nating beds, in whicli no trace of ani- Qe Ie Yl Chief part of the Highlands 

ra R. mal remains has been found, of great oi Ring SEE AEE | 

a thickness, and the lowest that have been LL ee 

i gh rr ea ~ = 
Se ee ch See we 

Py t We A oe eae Pa 


22 


A PARTY OF EMIGRANTS TRAVELLING IN 
AFRICA. 

In the year 1820, about 5000 British emigrants were 
conveyed to South Africa, under the patronage of 
Government, with a view to colonize eertain tracts of 
unoccupied territory near the frontier of Cafferland, on 
the eastern extremity of the Cape Colony. ‘The emi- 
erants were disembarked at Algoa Bay, about 600 miles 
from Cape ‘Town; and thiere encamped under their 
respective leaders, until] they could be fnrnished with 
waggons to convey them and their goods into the inte- 
rior. None of the parties consisted of fewer than ten 
adult males, besides women and children; and some 
amounted to as many as a hundred families or upwards, 
associated for mutual support, and accompanied by their 
respective clergymen, or other religious instructors. A 
considerable number of eventlemen of education and in- 
tellizence, (chiefly military and naval officers on half 
pay,) were also among the leaders; so that the new set- 
tlement comprised within its own body suitable mate- 
rials for the immediate formation of a well-organized 
community. The history of this settlement, however, 
thoveh neither uninteresting nor unistructive, is not 
our present cbject. We mean merely to give the reader 
a sketch of one of those parties journeying through the 
wilds of Africa to their remote location in the interior. 

The writer of this notice happened to be the leader 
of the band now referred to, which was one of the 
smallest of that body of emigrants. It eonsisted of a 
few families of Scottish farmers, amounting altogether 
to twenty-three persons, including children and_ ser- 
vaiits. 

We struck our tents at Aleoa Bay on the 13th of June, 
which is about the middle of winter in the southern 
hemisphere. ‘he weather was serene and pleasant, 
though chill at might—somewhat like fine September 
weather in England. Our travelling: train consisted of 
seven waggons, hired from Dutch-African colonists, and 
driven by the owners or their native servants—slaves 
and Hottentots. ‘These vehicles appeared to be admi- 
rably adapted for the country, which is rue@ed and 
‘mountainous, and generally destitute of any other roads 
‘than the rnde tracks originally struck across the wilder- 
ness by the first European adventurers. Each wageon 
,Wwas provided with a raised canvas tilt to protect the 
traveller from sun and rain; and was drawn by a team 
cf ten or twelve oxen, fastened with wooden yokes toa 
strong central. trace, or trek-tow, framed of twisted 
thones of bullock’s or buffalo’s hide. The driver sat in 
front to guide and stimulate the oxen, armed with a whip 
of enormous length; while «2 Hottentot or Bushman 
boy, running before, led the team by a thong attached 
to the horns of the foremost pair of bullocks. 
the road was bad and crooked, or when we travelled at 
va rapid rate, as we frequently did on more favourable 
ground, these poor leaders had a very toilsome task ; 
and if they made any mistake, or in aught displeased 
the lordly baas (the gruff boor who sat behind), his for- 
muidable lash was not unfrequently applied to their naked 
limbs. “These African whips are truly tremendous im- 
piements. In ascending some of the mountain passes, 
when the whole strength of the oxen, and occasionally 
of two or three teams yoked together, was required to 
drag up our heavy-loaded waggons, the lash was used 
with such unsparing vigour that the flanks of the bul- 
locks were sometimes actually streaming with blood. 

These rude African farmers, however, have their 
good points. Their faults and vices, so far as they are 
peculiar, are evidently the effect of their unfortunate 
situation in being slave-holders. When not crossed in 
their numour, they are usually civil and obliging; and 


¢ ~ ¢ e © 
we continued on friendly terms with them to the end of 


our journey. 
At the close of the first day, we encamped in the midst 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


Where | 


ce yl 
(January 19, 


of an immense forest, or jungle, of shrubbery, at the dis 
tance of a few miles from a remarkable salt lake which 
has been described in a previous number. This we 
visited in order to provide ourselves with a supply of salt 
for culinary purposes. Our encampment this niglit was 
to our yet unexperienced eyes rather a sirgular scene. 
Some families pitched their tents, and spread their mat- 
tresses on the dry ground; others, more vividly im- 
pressed with the terror of snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, 
and other noxious creatures of the African clime, resolved 
to sleep as they had travelled—above their baggage in 
the wageons. Meanwhile our native attendants adopted 
due precautions to avert surprise from the more formi- 
dable denizens of the forest. FEJephants and lions had 
formerly been numerous in this part of the country, and 
were still occasionally met with. ‘Two or three large 
fires were therefore kindled to scare away such visitants ; 
aud the oxen, for greater security, were fastened by their 
horns to the wheels of the waggons. ‘The boors unslung 
their huge guns (or roers, as they called them) from the 
tilts of the waggons, and placed them against 2 magni- 
ficent evergreen bush, in whose shelter, with a fire at 
their feet, they had fixed their place of repose. Here, 
untying each his jeathern scrip, they produced their pro- 
visions for supper, consisting chietiy of dried bullock’s 
flesh, which they washed down with a moderate sopie, 
or dram, of colomal brandwyn, from a huge horn shine 
by each man in his waggon: beside his powder-flask. 
‘The slaves and Hottentots, congreyated apart round one 
of the watch-fires, made their frugal meal, without the 
brandy, but with imuch more merriment than their 
phlegmatic masters. In the meanwhile our frying-pans 
aud tea-kettles were also actively employed; and by a 
seasonable liberality in the beverage “ which cheers but 
liot inebriates”” we ingratiated ourselves not a little with 
both classes of our escort,. especially with the coloured 
caste, who prized ‘“‘tea-water” as a rare and precious 
luxury. 

It was not a little amusing after supper to contemplate 
the characteristic groups which our rustic camp ex- 
hibited. The Dutch-African boors, most of them men 
of almost gigantic size, sat apart in their bushy dield, 
In aristocratic exclusiveness, smoking’ their huge pipes 
with self-satisfied complacency. Some of the graver 
emigrants were seated on the trunk of a decayed_tree, 
conversing in broad Scotch on subjects connected with 
our settlement, and on the comparative merits of long 
and short-horned cattle (the horns of the native oxen 
are enormous): aud the livelier young men and ser- 
vant lads were standing near the -Hottentots, observing 
their merry pranks, or practising with them a lesson of 
inutual tuition in their respective dialects; while the 
awkward essays at pronunciation, on either side, sup- 
plied a fund of ceaseless jocnlarity. Conversation ap- 
peared to go on with alacrity, though neither understood 
scarcely a syllable of the other’s language; and a sly 
rogue of a Bushman sat behind, all the while, mimicking, 
to the very life, each of us in succession. ‘These groups, 
with all their variety of mien and attitude, eharacter 
and complexion,—uow diinly discovered, now distinctly 
lighted up by the fitful blaze of the watch-fires; the 
exotic aspect of the clumps of aloes and euphorbias, 
peering out amidst the surrounding jungle, in the wan 
light of the rising moon, seeming to the excited faucy 
like bands of Calfer warriors crested with plumes and 
bristling with assagais ; these appearances, together with 
the uncouth chuckling gibberish of the Hottentots and 
Bushmen, and their loud bursts of wild laughter, had 
altogether a very stranee and striking effect, and made 
some of us teel far more impressively than we had yet 
felt, that we were now. indeed. houseless pilgrims in fhe. 
wilds of savage Africa. | 

By degrees, the motley groups became hushed, under 
the influence of slumber, ‘The settlers retired to their 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 23 


tents or their wagzgons; the boors, sticking- their pipes 
in their broad-brimmed hats, wrapt themselves in their 
great coats, and fearless of snake or scorpion, stretched 
their huge bodies on the bare ground; and the Hot- 
tentots, drawing themselves each under his sheep-skin 
caross, lay coiled up, with their feet to the fire and their 
faces to the ground, like so many hedgehogs. Over the 
wide-stretching wilderness, now reposing under the bright 
midnight moon, profound silence’ reigned,—unbroken 
save by the deep breathing of the oxen round the wag- 
rons, and, at times, by the far-off melancholy howl of 
a hyena, the first voice of a beast of prey we had heard 
siace our landing. With the nightly serenade of the 
jackal and hyzena we soon became familiar; nor did any 
more formidable visitants disturb our repose during our 
journey 
[To be continued. ]} 


MY BIRTH-DAY. 


My birth-day !?—What a different sound 
That word had in my youthful ears ! 

And how, each time the day comes round, 
Less and less white its mark appears ! 


VW hen first our scanty years are tuld 

It seems like pastime to grow old; 

And, as youth counts the shining links 
That Time around him binds so fast, 

Pleased with the task, he little thinks 
How hard that chain will press at last. 


Vain was the man, and false as vain, 
Who said, “ were he ordained to run 
His long career of life again, 
Tie would do all that he Aad done.”— 
Ah! *tis not thus the voice that dwells 
In sober birth-days speaks te me ; 
Far otherwise—of time it tells 
Lavished unwisely, carelessly— 
Of counsel mock’d—of talents, made 
Haply for high and pure designs, 
But oft, like Israel’s incense laid 
Upon unholy, earthly shrines— 
Of nursing many a wrong desire— 
Of wandering after Love too far, 
And taking every meteor fire 
That cross‘d my path-way for his star ! 
All this it teliz, and could I trace 
‘The imperfect picture o’er ayain, 
With power to add, retouch, efface 
The lights and shades, the joy and pain, 
How hitle of the past would stay ! 
How quickly all should melt away— 
All—but that freedom of the mind 
Which hath been more than wealth to me: 
Those friendships in my boyhood twined, 
And kept till now unchangingly. 
And that dear home, that saving ark, 
Where Love’s true light at last I’ve found, 
Cheering within, when all grows dark, 
And comfortless, and stormy round ! 
Moors. 





eam 


LORD BACON. “ 


Tue twenty-second of January is the birth-day of the 
illustrious Francts Bacon, whom we are here to regard 
principally as the founder of the Experimental or In- 
ductive Philosophy. There can be no doubt that the 
whole of men’s knowledge of external nature must have 
been originally derived from observation. We are not 
horn with any idea even of such simple truths as that a 
atone is hard, and that it will fall to the ground if drop- 
ped from the hand. ‘These and all other facts must have 
oeen observed before they could be. known. Observa- 
tion, then,- and that alone, was the mother of natural 
philosophy. First, so many separate facts were col- 
lected ; then, they were arranged into different groups 
according ‘to certain characters which were found to be 
common to all those that were placed together; and in 
this way were obtained what we call the general truths 





of science, which are nothing more than.expressions of 


such common principles. We need no historical evi- 


for it evidently must have been so. there was no othict 
way by which the general truths in question could have 
been arrived at. It is possible, however, that in a sue: 
ceeding age these general truths might in many cases 
be proclaimed without the particular instances on which 
they were founded. In this way philosophy would at 
length put on the air of a body of broad and lofty . 
abstractions, not resting upon any visible foundation of 
experience. It is easy to conceive how difficult and 
almost impossible it would be for the truths thus sepa- 
rated from their proper support to remain long un- 
mixed and unsophisticated. 

We may thus account for the form which the philo- 
sophy of the ancients eventually assumed. In its most 
matured state it was undeniably, to a considerable extent, 
under the dominion of certain preconceived opinions, 
some true, others false, and others partly true and partly 
false, but of all of which it may be said that the evidence 
which was to establish or refute them was seldom sought 
for where alone it was really to be found—in the facts 
of nature. It would be extremely incorrect, however, to 
suppose that the examination of nature was altogether 
neglected. Very far from it. ‘The most eminent of the 
Greek philosophers were most assiduous and most accu- 
rate observers. Jor proof of this, we need only refer to 
such works as Aristotle’s History of Animals and the 
medical treatises of Hippocrates. - The true distinction 
between them and the moderns is, that, although observers, 
they were not experimenters. ‘They heard, and recorded 
correctly enough, what nature stated of her own accord, 
but they asked her no questions. 

It is a most remarkable fact, and one vividly illustra- 


tive of the weakness and inefficiency of a philosophy 


so constituted, that for the long space of nearly two 
thousand years it not only remained unproductive, but 
actually went back and decayed every day more and 
more. From the age of Democritus, Hippocrates, and 
Aristotle, four hundred years before the birth of Christ, 
down to nearly the middle of the sixteenth century of our 
era, men, instead of making any progress in the method 
of prosecuting the study of nature, had-been gradually 
sinking into deeper and deeper ignorance and blindness 
in regard to every thing appertaining to that branch of 
science. Accidental discoveries may have occasionally 
turned up to add a few items to their stock of facts, 
though not, there is reason to believe, to an extent sufh- 
cient to make up for those which were continually. 
dropping away into forgetfulness; but of philosophy 
itself, properly so called, there was nearly all the while 
a decline like that of the daylight after the sun has sunk 
below the horizon. Certain general principles, sanc- 
tioned by the authority of great names, or the tradition 
of the schools, were considered as forming the necessary 
foundation of all truth. No attempt was made, or so 
much as thought of, to test these sacred affirmations by 
the actual investigation of nature: the aim was always 
to reconcile the fact to the doctrine, not the doctrine to 
the fact. At last the explication, and we might almost 
say the worship of these principles became nearly the sole 
occupation of the professors of philosophy; even the 
collecting of new facts by means of observation was 
entirely given up. This was the state of things during 
what are called the middle or the dark ages, which may 
be described as comprehending the thousand years from 
the taking of Rome by the Goths in the middle of the 
fifth century, to the taking of Constantinople by the 
Turks in the middle of the fifteenth. 

After this last-mentioned event, and the revival of let- 
ters in the west, which was brought about mainly by the 
learned exiles whom the destruction of the Grecian ein- 
pire forced to take refuge in Italy, the human intellect 
did indeed manifest a disposition, in almost all depart- 
ments of science, to throw off the yoke of prejiidice and 
authority to which.it had so long resigned itself. In 


dence to prove that this was the course actually followed: ‘ natural philosophy, as well as in other studies, various 


24 


intrepid and original thinkers arose, determined to make 
their way to the knowledge of truth by their own efforts, 
aud to look into the realities of nature with their o 7m 
eyes. These men well deserve to be accounted the pio- 
neers of Bacon. But it was not till he arose, that the war 
against the old despotic formalities of the schools was 
commenced on any thing like a grand scale, or carried 
on with adequate vigour and system. It was he wlio 
actually effected the conquest—who dispersed the dark- 
ness and brought in the light. ‘This he did by the pub- 
lication of his ‘ Novum Organon Scientiarum, or New 
Instrument of the Sciences. 

Bacon was born in 1561, and was the son of Sir 
Nicholus Bacon, for more than twenty years keeper 
of the great seal. He was educated at Trimty Col- 


lere, Cambridge, after leaving which he entered himself 


a student of Gray’s Inn, with the object of following Ins 
father’s profession of the law. In this profession, and 
in public life, he rapidly rose to the highest eminence ; 
and in 1619 he was made Lord High Chancellor of 


England, and created Baron Verulam, to which title | 


was added, the following year, that of Viscount St. 
Albans. Bacon’s political course, up to this time, had 
not beeu very remarkable for disinterestedness or inde- 
pendence; and it was destined to terminate suddenly in 


disgrace and sorrow. In March, 1621, he was impeached 


by the House of Commons for corruption in his high | 


office ; and his own confession soon after admitted the 
truth of the accusation in nearly all its force: on which 
he was immediately deprived of the seals, and sentenced 
to be fined, imprisoned during the King’s pleasure, and 


for ever excluded from parliament and all public employ- | 
He afterwards obtained a remission of the | 


ments. 
hardest parts of his sentence: but he only survived till 
he 9th of April, 1626, on which day he died suddenly 
at the Earl of Arundel’s house at Highgate. Intellec- 
tually considered, he was so great a man, that his cha- 
racter and conduct, as an historical personage, are com- 
monly, as it were by general consent, in a very singular 
degree overlooked and forgotten when we mention the 
naine of Bacon. It is worthy of notice, as a curious 
evidence of how little the delinquencies and misfortunes 
of the politician, memorable as they were, were some 
time after his death known or noted in those parts of the 
world which were most filled with the fame of the philo- 
sopher, that Bayle, in his Dictionary, published in 1695, 
and again in 1702, has given us an article on Bacon, in 
which he does not so much as allude to his lamentable 
fall, being evidently ignorant that such an event had 
ever taken place. 

The method of philosophy recommended and taught 
in the ‘Novum Organon’ is that of experiment and 
induction. Experimenting was a favourite employment 
of philosophers even in the dark ages. ‘The chemists 
or alchemists, for instance, of those days, were conti- 
nually making experiments. But their experiments 
were all made simply for the purpose of obtaining a 
particular material result; never with the object of de- 
tecting or testing a principle. Thus, they mixed or fused 
two or more substances together, in the hepe that the 
combination might yield them the edizir vite, or the uni- 
versal tincture; but they never resorted to a course of 
experiments to ascertain whether nature, as was asserted 
in the schools, really abhorred a vacuum, or to try the 
allered incompressibility of water, or to bring to the proof 
any of the other commonly received dogmas of a similar 
description. It may be safely affirmed, that they never 
dreamed of experimental philosophy in this sense. Now 
this was the method of experiment to which Bacon 
called the attention of philosophical inquirers, and of 
which he first fully laid open the character, the uses, and 
the rules. By induction, again, he meant merely the 
bringing in or collecting of facts, and the assorting of 
them according to their bearings, for the purpose of 


thence deducing those inferences which properly consti- | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[January 19, 1833, 


tute philosophy. Although the Baconian philosophy has 
been called the philosophy of induction, the phrase is to 
be taken as referring merely to the foundation on which 
it rests. Induction is not its object, but only one of its 
instruments; not its end, but its beginning. Its great 
author sufficiently expressed his sense of the true place 
which mere induction held in philosophy, when he used, 
as we are informed by his chaplain, Dr. Rawley, in-his 
Preface to Bacon’s ‘ Sylva Sylvarum,’ to complain, in 
allusion to his task of collecting the facts in that work, 
that he, who deserved ‘“ to be an architect in this build- 
ing, should be forced to be a workman and a labourer, 
and to dig the clay and burn the brick.” But on the 
other hand, he held it to be essential that this work 
should be performed by some one. He maintained that 
no philosophical truth or general principle could be ob- 


‘tained by any other method than by the induction of 


facts, or was entitled to acceptance, except in so far as it 
was supported by that testimony.. ‘The fundamental 
tenet, in short, of his philosophy is announced in the 
opening sentence of the ‘ Novum Organon :—“ Man, 
the servant and interpreter of Nature, understands and 
reduces to practice just so much as he has actually ex 
perienced of Nature’s laws; more he can neither know 
nor achieve.” 


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¢” ‘The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. ; 





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THE PENNY 


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{Church of St. Martin, Cologne.] © 


of semicircle. The city is fortified, and with its numerous 
spires and large buildings makes a good show from the 
opposite side of the river. It is about one hundred and 
seven miles east by north from Brussels. Cologne was 


or Juliers, Cleve, and Berg. Cologne js the capital of | an old Roman station often mentioned in Tacitus, and 

the whole province, and stands on the left or west bank | took its name of Colonia Claudia Agrippinensis, or “ the 

of the Rhine, N, L, 50° 55’, E. L, 6° 45, forming a kind | Colony of Claudius and Agrippina,” from Agrippina the 
io) 


Vou, IL, 


CoLoang, called by the Germans Cdln, is situatea in a 
district of the same name, which is one of the two divi- 
sions of the, Prussian province of Jiilich-Cleve-Bere, so 
called from iis containing the three old duchies of Jiilich 


- 26 


THE PENNY 


_ daughter of Germanicus Cesar, who was some time in 
these parts at the head of the Roman army. Agrippina, 
at the time when her name was given to the colony, was 
the fourth wife of her uncle, the feeble and worthless 
Emperor Claudius *; and was born at this place while 
her illustrious father commanded in Germany. ‘The 
Roman word “colonia,” colony, has been corrupted by 
the French into Cologne, and by the Germans into 
Coln. 

Under the Germanic Empire, Cologne was a free 
Imperial city, and had both a seat and voice as well in 
the Diets or Assemblies of Westphalia as in those of the 
Empire. At this time the Elector of Cologne occa- 
sionally resided here, as well as the Chapter of the Arch- 
bishop of Cologne and a Nuncio of the Pope. Urban 
VII. established a university here in 1388, to which 
succeeding Popes granted privileges. It is still the 
seat of a Catholic Archbishopric, but the university as 
such no longer exists. 

Cologne cannot on the whole be called a handsome 
city, its streets beine crooked, narrow, and dirty; but it 
has a great number of public buildings, and among them 
thirty-three churches and chapels. ‘Lhe population in 
1830 was 65,145. The cathedral is a noble building, 
400 feet long and 180 wide, which, owing to its magni- 
tude, is a conspicuous object from a distance, overtopping 
every other edifice in the city. The body of the cathe- 
dral is supported by 100 pillars. Two high towers 
were designed for this building, one of which is raised 
to only about half the height intended, and the other is 
hardly begun. Were the cathedral completed, it is 
generally allowed it would be one of the finest Gothic 
buildings in Europe. Behind the high altar is the 
chapel of the three holy kings, or three wise men, as 
they are sometimes called, made of marble; the shrine 
which contains the bodies is remarkable for the curious 
and elaborate ornaments with which it is decorated. 
The names of the three wise men, according to some 
accounts, are Gaspar, Melchior, aud Balthasar, whose 
bones, as the story goes, were first taken to Constan- 
tinople by the Emperor Constantine’s mother ; thence 
they were transferred to Milan; and finally obtained a 
sumptuous mausoleum in Cologne. What the precise 
merits of Gaspar, Melchior, aud Balthasar were, we 
have not been able to make out satisfactorily. The 
parish church of St. Peter contains the Crucifixion of the 
Apostle, one of Rubens’ finest pictures, which he wave 
as a present to the church in which he received the rite 
of baptism. This distinguished painter was a native of 
Cologne. The picture travelled to Paris during the 
time when the French were so busy in appropriating to 
themselves all the valuable works of this kind which they 
could lay their hands on: after the downfall of Bona- 
parte it returned home. 

In the church of St. Ursula we see the tomh of this 
holy Virgin, and, as the lerend would have us believe, 
the bones of her 11,000 virgin companions and martyrs: 
the church does in fact contain an immense number of 
bones, and in a certain chamber, some accounts say, 
there are, or were, several thousand skulls, arranged in 
good order and adorned with garlands and coronets. 
The fact of the bones being there seems undoubted; the 
proof of their belonging to the holy virgins does not seem 
quite so clear. 

Besides these there are many other handsome churches 
in Cologne, one of which, the church of St. Martin, is 
represented in the wood-cut. ‘This view is given, not so 
much for the beauty of the church, as to exhibit the 
eeneral style of architecture in this old city. : 

The town-house has a fine portal formed by a double 
row of marble pillars. The old Jesuits’ college, an 
extensive building, now contains a gymnasium or high 

* This imperial simpieton had made two engagements of marriage 


before he actually entered into the matrimonial state. In fact he 
had six wives, like our Henry VIII. 


MAGAZINE. [JANUARY 26 
school, with a library, a seminary for priests, and a 
valnable collection of old German paintings. 

The situation of Cologne makes it a place of consider- 
able trade, particularly with the German town of Frank- 
fort-on-the-Main and Holland. In 1822, 4415 vessels of 
various sizes arrived at the town, and 2832 left it. The 
manufactures of Cologne are considerable; twenty-five 
tobacco maunufactories, cotton, silk, and woollen wares, 
earthenware, soap, candles, &c.; and Cologne water, or 
Eau de Cologne, as it is commonly called, which is said 
to be made at twenty-four different establishments. The 
virtues of this water must be well known to all our readers; 
but if they have still any doubts on the subject, it is only 
necessary to read the printed French advertisement, 
which generally accompanies the bottle, and it is impos- 
sible to dispute the virtues of the commodity which the 
manufacturers extol so highly. <A great deal of brandy 
is made at Cologne. The book manufactory of the town 
employs eighteen establishments and forty-two presses. 

The public library of 60,000 volumes, the botanic 
garden, the school for the deaf and dumb, the various 
collections and cabinets, the hospitals, &c. are such 
appendages as we usually find in an old continental 
town. ‘There is a bridge of boats over the river, which 
at Cologne is about 1250 paces wide, connecting the 
city with the opposite town of Deutz. 


*," The statistical facts in this notice are from ‘ Cannabich’s 
Geography,’ a late German work. 


SIMPLIFICATIONS OF ARITHMETICAL RULES, 
No. 1. 


Our readers are aware that all or most of the common 
rules of conimercial arithmetic are intended to give exact 
results, true to the nearest fraction of a farthing, a grain, 
or an inch, as the case may be; and it is very necessary 
that it should be so. But it is no less desirable to 
have other rules, more simple than those of the first 
class, to enable us to get near the result, when we do not 
require extreme accuracy. Without enlarging further 
upon the advantage of such rules, we will proceed to give 
one, inteuding in future papers to enter upon others. 

Having given the price of one article, we often want 
to know nearly how much ten, a hundred, or a thousand 
of the same will cost, at the same rate. Or, knowing 
how much ten, a hundred, or a thousand will cost, we 
wish to know the price of one. ‘The rule we are going 
to give will tell within three-pence how much ten will 
cost, within two shillings how much a hundred will cost, 
and within a pound how much a thousand will cost. 
‘The reverse rule is much more correct, for when we 
know how much a thousand cost, we may tell within a 
farthing how much one will cost. We will explain it by 
an example, as follows :— 

If a gallon costs £3. 17s. 72d., how much will ten, a 
hundred, and a thousand gallons cost respectively ? 

1. Write down the pounds, and by the side of them 
write down the half of the shillings, after which write a 5, 
if clividing the shillings by 2 gave a remainder, that is, 
if the shillings were odd in number. Jn the present 
mstance this gives 385 ; the pounds 3, half the shillings 
8, and 5 because of the remainder. Annex a cipher to 
this, which gives 3850. 

2. ‘Turn the pence and farthings into farthings only, 
adding 1 if the number of farthings thus obtained be 24 
or upwards. In the present instance this gives 32; 
the number of farthings in 73d. is 31, and 1 is added 
because 31 is greater than 24. 

3. Add the two last results together, which gives in 
this instance 3882, the sum of 3850 and 32. 

To find the price of ten gallons nearly, annex a cipher 
to this, and cut off the three last places; this gives 

38/820 


The 38 is the number of pounds in the price of ten 


f 


1$33.| THE PENNY 
gallons: to find the shillings and pence, as near as this 
rule can do it, we must deal with the 820 in such a 
manner as to reverse the process in (1) and (2); that 
ss, we must ask what number of shillings and pence 
would have given us 820, if we had done with them 
what is directed to be done in (1) and (2). The reverse 
rule is ;— 

1. Double the first figure, and add 1 if the second 
fievrre be 5 or upwards ; this is the number of shillings. 
{t is 16 in this instance, since the second figure is not so 
great as 9. 

2. Take away five from the second figure, if that can 
be done, and with the remainder and the third figure, 
or with the second and third fieures form a number ; 
which number diminish by | if it be 25 or upwards. 
In the present instance this gives simply 20, for the 
second figure is not so great as 5, nor is 20 so great as 
25. lf the number had been 887 instead of 820, we 
should have had 36; the 3 left from the 8 after 5 has 
been taken away giving 37, which is diminished by ], 
becanse 37 is greater than 25. 

3. Turn the last number, considered as farthines, into 
pence and farthings ; which gives, in this case, 9 petice. 

Heuice the price of ten gallons by our rule is £38. 16s. 5d. 
The real price is £38. 16s. 54d. 

To find the price of a hundred gallons annex two 
ciphers to 3882 and cut off three places. ‘This gives 
388/200, which, treated in the same way, gives 
£388. 4s. Od. ‘The real price is £388. 4s. 7d. x 

To find the price of a thousand gallons annex three 
ciphers to 3882 and cut oif three places, or, which is the 
same thing, annex no ciphers. ‘This gives £3882. Os. 0d.; 
the real price is £3882. 5s. 10d. 

This rule, though it takes some time in the descrip- 
tion, may be done after a little practice by the head 
alone ; but with great facility by writing down only as 
much as is in the following example :— 


If 1 gallon costs £42. 6s. 34d. 
42314 

10 gallons cost £423. 2s. 9d. 

100 4 £4231. 8s. 

1000 , £42314. 0s, 


which are respectively too small by 1jd., 14d., and 
lls. 8d. 
We write down the following examples, which the 


eader may verify by the rule :— 


If 1 costs £2, Os. 


Merce eo Os | 6d. 
100 ,, £204. 14s. Od. 
1000 ,, £2047. 0s. 0d. 


In this case, and in that where there is only one shu- 
ling, a cipher must be placed after the pounds. - ‘Thus 
the number from which these are dedneced is 2047, 


If leosts £31. 9s. 12d. 
10 cost £314. Ils. 5d. 
fy 5145, 14s. Od. 

moo. x2ol457. Os. Od. 

If 1 costs £0. 19s. 74d. 
10 cost £9. 16s. Od. 
100 _,,, £98. Os. Od. 

1000 ,, £980. Os. Od. 


The rule always gives too little, except in the case 
where the nuinber of pence is exactiv 6d., ii which case 
the answer is accurately true. I*or example, 


If l costs #2. 18s. Gd. 

10@-eost £29. bs. Od. 
100 £292. 10s. Od. 
1000 £2925. Os. Od. 


As it is yery uncommon, when the price is above five 
shillings, to sell goods, except for an exact number of 


>9 


MAGAZINE. i 
shillings and sixpences, this case will be found very con- 
venient. 

We may now describe the reverse rule. Knowing 
how many 10, 100, 1000, &c. cost, convert the sum into 
one number, by the first rule, strike off three places, and 
as many more as there are ciphers in the nnmber named. 
For exainple, if 100 cost £4936. 15s. T3d., how much 
does one cost? The number is 4936932, from which I 
strike off five places; viz., the three which are struck offin 
every case, and two for the 2 ciphersin 100. ‘Lhis gives 

49 /36932 
Retain only three figures on the nght, or 
49 /369 


which gives, treated according to the second rule, 
£49. 7s. 43d. for the price of one. Tis is within a 
farthing of the truth. 

We have put the rule in such a way that those who 
do not understand decimal fractions may avail them- 
selves of it. ‘Those who understand decimals may be 
told that this process is a short one for converting any 
number of shillings and pence into the corresponding 
decimal of a pound. Thus £1. 15s. 63d. is £1°778 
nearly. 

Our coinage might be altered so as to make this rule 
exact, without altering the quantity of copper which is now 
coined into a pound sterling. It would require that the 
copper which now goes to 960 farthings or 240 pence, 
should be divided into a thousand farthings or 250 pence, 
the penny being four farthings, as at present. Of these 
farthings 50 would go to a shilling, instead of 45 as at 
present; so that the shilling would be twelve-pence half- 
penny. ‘This would be inconvenient, but not very much 
so; and the silver and gold coinage would remain 
entirely untouched. The difference between the old and 
new farthing would be only one twenty-fifth part of the 
old farthing ; so that if goods were sold at the same nom- 
nal price, the loss to the seller would be about a farthing 
in sixpence; or if the same real price were to be kept, 
the old price might be turned into the new, with ex- 
ceeding accuracy, by adding a farthing for every six- 
pence. ‘I'his would be very useful in the period of con- 
fusion which would elapse between the establishment of 
the new coinaggand the death of the generation which 
was brought up under the old. It would become usual 
to sell goods by tens instead of dozens, which would 
very much facilitate arithmetical operations. 

We are not advocates of any such change, but rather 
the contrary; but we are convinced that if any alteration 
ever take place, this should be the one. 

We will only add that even at present a simple 
table, small enough to be engraved on wood or bone, 
which could be carried in the waistcoat pocket, is all that 
is necessary to work by this rule with perfect exactuess 
to any extent. 





THE FOSSIL IGUANODON. 


Tue euana, or iguana, of the West Indies, of which a 
description and wood-cut were given in a recent nuinber 
of this Magazine, appears to be the living type or repre- 
sentative of one of the largest and most extraordinary 
reptiles of a former world that has hitherto been found 
ina fossil state. ‘The discovery of this animal, and of 
‘ts structure and character, we owe to the scientific 
researches of Gideon Mantell, Esq., F.R.S., of Lewes in 
Sussex and a detailed account of its osteology, with 
plates, was given by that gentleman in the Philosophical 
mransactions, 1825; and subsequently in an interesting 
work published in. 1827, entitled ‘ Llustrations of the 
Geolozy of Tilgate Forest.’ From the close resem- 
blance of the bones and teeth to those of the guana, 
Mr. Mantell has named the fossil animal the ignanodon 5 
but though there is a resemblance in structure between 
the living and the fossil animal, they oie cary 


23 


in bulk. The living wuana seldom exceeds the length 
of five feet: that of the iguanodon, estimated by the 
magnitude of the bones, must have been about seventy 
feet; the circumference of the body fourteen feet and a 
half; the length of the thigh and leg eight feet two 
inches; the foot, from the heel to the point of the claw, 
six feet; the heicht, from the ground to the top of the 
head, nine feet. Let the reader refer to the figure of the 
muana, No. 41, p. 332, and if he can, let him imagine 
it to be amplified to the dimensions here given, and he 
will form a better idea of the iguanodon than a verbal 
description could convey. The bones of the iguanodon 
are found imbedded in sandstone, in the quarries neer 
Cuckfield in Sussex; they have also been found in 
similar strata in other parts of the county. In the same 
quarries are also found the bones of other large saurian 
or lizard-shaped animals, together with remains of 
turtles and fresh-water shells. No entire skeleton of 
the iguanodon has hitherto been discovered; but Mr. 
Mantell, from his knowledge of comparative anatomy, 
has been enabled to trace the connection of the different 
parts in a satisfactory manner. ‘This was a labour 
of some years; hor was it until several of the teeth 
were found that he could determine the true character 
of the animal, which was an herbivorous masticatine 
reptile. On comparing tle teeth with those of various 
species of crocodiles and lizards, he discovered an iden- 
tity of form with those of the living g@uana, as may be 
seen in the annexed drawings, which are correct repre- 
sentations of both. ‘The reader may be surprised to 
find the teeth of the iguanodon, which are here given of 
the natural size, to be so apparently disproportionate to 
the bulk of the animal, but this 1s the case with the 
living guana; its length is five feet, but its teeth are not 
larger than those of mice. 

The living guana bites off the buds of vegetables, and 
swallows them without mastication; but from the worn- 
down state of some of the teeth, Mr. Mantell is decidedly 
of opinion that the iguanodon masticated its food: such 
was also the opinion of Baron Cuvier, who pronounced 
this animal to be “the most extraordinary creature that 
had ever been discovered.” From the nature of its 
food it must have been a terrestrial reptile like the 
guana. The iguanodon, like one species of guana in 
St. Domingo, (Iguana cornuta,) had a bony protube- 
rance or horn placed near the eyes: a fossil horn has 
been discovered; it is about the size of the lesser horn of 
the rhinoceros. The principal bones of the iguanodon col- 
lected in Mr. Mantell’s Museum at Lewes, are immense 
vertebre, ribs, thigh-bones of prodigious size, one mea- 
suring twenty-three inches in circumference, bones of 
the feet and toes, and enormous sharp-pointed claws. 
Mr. Mantell, describing the thigh-bone of such vast 
circumference, justly observes, ‘‘ Were it clothed with 
muscles and integuments of suitable proportions, where 
is the living animal with a thigh that could rival this 
extremity of a lizard of the primitive ages of the world 2” 

It was for some time betieved that the remains of the 
iguanodon were not to be found beyond the wealds of 
Sussex aud Kent; but recently, teeth nearly resembling 
those of this animal have been discovered by Dr. Jager 
in Germany. 

During the last summer Mr. Mantell discovered the 
remains of another species of fossil reptile, less than the 
iguanodon, but resembling it in part of its structure, 
though differing from it and from all other known reptiles 
in other parts. It appears to have had a range of 
enormous scales or spines upon its back, resembling in 
form those of the guana, as represented in the drawing 
of that animal before referred to. Mr. Mantell read a 
description of the parts of this reptile, and exhibited its 
remains, at a meeting of the Geological Society in 
December last. He is now of opinion, that from the 
dislocated and broken bones being still placed in a 
certain relation to each other, they must have been 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[ JANUARY 26, 


injured and subsequently disjointed while covered by 
muscles and integuments. 

From the extreme hardness of the stone in which the 
bones are imbedded, great skill and care were required 
in removing the stone. The strata of Tilgate Forest, in 
which these organic remains are found, contain ex- 
ciusively the shells of fresh-water animals and terrest ‘tal 
plants. The chalk, which nearly surrounds the strata of 


the weald, contains the remains of marine animais only. 


{Teeth of the Fossil Iguanodon and of the Guana.] 













| + 
" | 
By ee 4 
| Wi ae ie iigel 
el Si 
‘ : 1! j ‘s 
| ' hi A 
"4 i) Mt 
I \ bdiy 
‘ i] AH a ibe 
Uh 9 
|e 


1. Crown of a tooth of the Iguanodon not worn by use, and in 
this state closely resembling fig. 2. 

2. A magnified view of a tooth of the recent Guana. 

3. Portion of the upper jaw of the recent Guana, with eight teeth 
highly magnified. 

4. Front vie fa tooth of the Iguanodon, natural size, the voint 
worn off by grinding its food. : 

9. Back view of a similar tooth; the worn surface marked d. 

6. Front and back view of a tooth of the Iguanodon worn down 
by use. a the worn surface. b the cavity formed by the pressure of 
a new tooth, as in the recent jaw, fg. 3, ¢. 





A PARTY OF EMIGRANTS TRAVELLING IN 
AFRICA—(Concluded from No. 51). 


In the mode described in a former number we tra- 
velled for ten days ; the features of the country changing 
from dark jungle to the open champaign, and from that 
again to the desolate sterility of savage mountain scenery, 
or of parched and desert plains, scattered over with huge 
ant hillocks and flocks of sprineboks. Here and there a 
solitary farm-house appeared near some permancnt foun- 
tain, or willow-margined river; and then again the wil- 
derness, though clothed perhaps with verdant pasturage 
and bedecked with magnificent shrubbery, extended from 
twenty or thirty miles, without a drop of water. It was 
consequently uninhabitable except after heavy rains. 

At length we reached Roodewal, a military post on the 
Great Fish River, 200 miles from Alvoa Bay, and about 
90 mules distant from the spot allotted for our location. — 
Iiere we were most hospitably entertained for a couple 


1833.] 


of days by the officers of the garrison and their ladies; 
after which we proceeded on our journey, accompanied 
by an additional escort of seven or eight armed boors on 
horseback. Having crossed the Great Fish River, the 
old boundary of the colony, we entered a region from 
which the Caffers and Ghonaquas had only been recently 
expelled ; and which was considered as still peculiarly 
exposed to their predatory inroads. ‘The new colonial 
frontier had been advanced to the River Keissi, seventy 
or eighty miles to the eastward; and the intervening 
territory, now entirely destitute of human inhabitants, 
was literally “a waste and howling wilderness,” occupied 
only by herds of wild animals,—elephants, buffaloes, 
quageas, and antelopes—and by the formidable beasts 
of prey,—lions, leopards, and hyenas, which are always 
found when their victims are abundant. 
The upper or northern part of this territory consists of 
a chain of lofty and rugeed mountains, partly clothed with 
forest, and intersected with deep and fertile glens, through 
which the Kat, the Koonap, the Mancazana, the Baviaan, 
and other streams issue forth to join the Great Fish 
River. At the source of the last of these streams, the 
Baviaans Rivier, or River of Basoons, lay the lo- 
cation, or allotment, of our little party; distant a hun- 
dred miles, at least, from the nearest part of the English 
settlement. Our journey up this glen, from the spot 
where it issued from the mountains, about twenty miles 
above Roodewal, occupied five days, and was by far the 
most arduous portion of our whole expedition. The dis- 
tance did not exceed thirty English miles; but after we 
had advanced a short way through a most picturesque 
defile, which wound, as it were, into the very bowels of 
the mountains, the road (which thus far was kept in 
tolerable repair for the conveyance of timber from a mag- 
nificent forest on the right) suddenly failed us; and we 
were literally obliged to hew out our path up the Valley 
of Baboons, through jungles and gullies, and beds of 
torrents and rocky acclivities; forming altogether a se- 
ries of obstructions which it required the utmost exertions 
of the whole party, and of our experienced African allies, 
to overcome. 
The scenery through which we passed was in many 
places of the most singular and imposing description. 
Sometimes the valley widened out, leaving space for fertile 
savannas alone the river side, prettily sprinkled over with 
shrubbery and clumps of mimosa trees, and clothed with 
luxuriant pasturage, up to the bellies of our oxen. Fre- 
quently, the mountains, again converging, left only a 
narrow defile, just broad enough for the stream to find a 
passage; while precipices of naked rock rose abruptly, 
like the walls of a rampart, to the height of many hundred 
fect, and in some places appeared absolutely to overhang 
tne savage-looking pass (or poort, as the boors called it), 
through which we and our waggons struggled bclow ; 
our only path being occasionally the rocky bed of the 
shallow river itself, encumbered with huge blocks of stonc 
which had fallen from the cliffs, or worn smooth as a 
marble pavement by the sweep of the torrent floods. At 
this period the River of Baboons was a mere nil, 
gurgling gently along its rugged course, or gathercd 
here and there into natural tanks, called in the language 
of the country Zeekoe-gats (hippopotamus pools) ; but 
the remains of water-wrack, heaved high on the clilfs, or 
hanging upon the tall willow trecs, which in many placcs 
fringed the banks, afforded striking proof that at certain 
seasons this climinutive rill becomes a mighty and resist- 
less flood. The steep hills on either side often assumed 
very peculiar and picturesque shapes, embattled, as it 
were, with natural ramparts of freestone rock; and 
garrisoned with troops of large baboons, ‘which in- 
habit these mountains in great numbers. The lower 
declivities were covered with good pasturage, and 
sprinkled over with evcrgreens and acacias; while the 
cliffs that overhune the river had their wrinkled fronts 
embellished with various species of succulent plants and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


a9 


flowering aloes, In other spots the freestone or basaltic 
rocks, partially worn away with the waste of years, had 
assumed shapes the most singular and grotesque; so thiat, 
with a little aid from fancy, one might imagine them the 
ruins of Hindoo or Egyptian temples, with their half- 
decayed obelisks, columns, and statues of monster- 
deities, 

It were tedious to relate the difficulties, perils, ‘and 
adventures, which we encountered in our toilsome march 
of five days, up this African glen ;—to tell of our pioncer- 
ing labours with the hatchet, the pick-axe, the crow-bar, 
and the sledge-hammer,—and the lashing the poor oxen, 
to force them on (sometimes 20 or 30 in one team) 
through such a track as no English reader can form any 
adequate conception of. At length, after extraordinary 
exertions and hair-breadth escapes—the breaking down 
of two waggons, and the partial damage of others— 
we got through the last poort of the glen, and found 
ourselves on the summit of a stony ridge, commanding: 
a view of the extremity of the valley. ‘“ And now, 
mynheer,’ said the Dutch-African field-cornet who com- 
manded our escort, “ daar leg wwe veld—their lies your 
country.’ Looking in the direction where he pointed, 
we beheld, extending to the northward, a beautiful vale, 
about six or seven miles in length, and varying from 
one to two in breadth. It appeared like a verdant basin 
or cul de sac, surrounded on all sides by an amphitheatre 
of steep and sterile mountains, rising in the back-ground 
in sharp and serrated ridees of very considerable eleva- 
tion; their summits being at this season covered with 
snow, and estimated to be from 6000 to 7000 feet above 
the level of the sea. The lower declivities were sprinkled 
over, though somewhat scantily, with grass and bushes. 
But the bottom of the valley, through which the infant 
river meandered, prescnted a warm, pleasant, and 
secluded aspect; spreading itself into verdant meadows, 
sheltered and embellished, without being encumbered, 
with groves of mimosa irees, among which we observed 
in the distance herds of wild animals—antelopes and 


WWAceas—pasturine in undisturbed quietude. 
quage 2 





SW 








> se ee ts = 
SUS. WN 

SS . YS 

NYS 


(‘The Quagga. ] 


“« Sae that’s the lot o’ our inheritance, like?’’ quoth one 


S 
of the party, a Scottish agriculturist. “ Aweel, noo that 
we've really got till ’t, I mann say the place looks no 
sae muckle amiss, and may suit our purpose no that ill, 
provided thae haughs turn out to be cude deep land for 
the plcugh, and we can but contrive to find a decent 
road out o’ this quecr hieland glen into the lowlands— 
like ony Christian country.” | 

Descending into the middle of the valley, we unloaded 
the wageons and pitched our tertts in a grove of mimosas, 
on the grassy margin of the river; and the next day our 
armed escort with the train of shattered vehicles set out 
on their return homeward, leaving us in our wild domaim 


to our OWN courage and resources. 
5 P, 


of) 


THE NEW RIVER. 
Iv was on the Ist of February, in the year 1608, that 


the cutting of the cane! was beeun for the admission of 


the New River, the bountiful source from which the 
ereater part of London is now supplied with one of the 
first necessaries of existence. For a lone period the in- 
habitants of this yetropolis derived the water they re- 


quired for domestic purposes through the labour of 


water carriers, who fetched it from the Thames, and 
from various other open streams, such as the Fleet and 
its tributaries, which were earried in their natural course 
towards the hollow in which the city stands. The in- 
trepid drinkers do not seem to have given themselves 
rouch concern about the quality of the water, so long as 
the quantity was sufficient. The Londoners appear to 
have remained satisfied with their ditches, and with the 
different wells which were sunk in the gardens of the 
religious houses and in some other spots; till on the one 
hand the increase of the city rendered the supply from 
these sources inadequate, while on the other the covering 
in of several of the formerly exposed streams, as houses 
and streets extended in various directions, deprived them 
of some of their ancient resorts. It was in the year 
1236 that water was first brought into the town in 
Jeaden pipes from the village of ‘TYyburn (which stood 
not far from the present Stratford Place, in Oxford 
Road). Nine conduits, or fountains, which were then 
erected here, were retained by the city of London till 
the beginning of the last century. After this first at- 
tempt, water was brought in the same manner from 
Islington, Hackney, Hoxton, und various other places. 
It was not till towards the end of the sixteenth century 
that any water was raised by machinery from the 
Thames. ‘The first work erected for that purpose was 
the construction of Peter Maurice, a German engineer, 
The supply obtained in these different ways was distri- 
buted to the public by means of conduits, or as Mait- 
Jand expresses it, “cisterns of lead, castellated with 
stone,” which were raised in the middle of the principal 
streets. ‘The largest and most ancient of these was that 
which stood in Westcheap, and whh had been erected 
xn the year 1285; but they at last amounted to above 
‘wenty in all. Many of these were not taken down till 
towards the middle of the last century. On the 18th 
of September, Stow informs us, it was the custom for 
the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, mounted on horse- 
back, to pay an annual visit to the head conduits at 
Tyburn ; on which occasion they hunted a hare before, 
and a fox after dinner, in the neighbonring fields. 
Notwithstanding, however, the supplies that had been 
obtained both from the Thames, and froin the various 
other streams in the immediate neighbourhood, a con- 
siderable scarcity began to be felt towards the end of the 
reign of Elizabeth, which increased after her successor 
came to the throne. This may perhaps have been oue 
of the reasons which produced the series of prohibitions 
issued about this time against the further extension of the 
city by new buildings. In these circumstances different 
projects were suggested; but although an act of parlia- 
ment was passed granting liberty to the city to make the 
neeessary cut for bringing water from any part of Mid- 
dlesex or Hertfordshire, no one for some years could be 
found bold or patriotic enough to engage in the adven- 
ture. At last the speculation was undertaken by a 
public-spirited citizen, Mr. Hugh Myddleton, of whose 
origin and early history not much more, we believe, is 
known than that his father, Richard Myddleton, had 
from the reign of Edward VI. been Governor of Denbigh 
Castle. He himself had followed the business of a gold- 
smith; but had amassed his fortune principally by some 
Welsh mines which he had taken a lease of and worked. 
The city having transferred to him all the powers, rights, 
and privileges conferred by the act, he prepared to cut 
his canal from the height immediately north of London 
to the rivers Chadwell and Amwell, near Ware, in Hert- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[ JANUARY 20, 


fordshire,—a track of nearly forty miles in length. We 


icannot eter into a detail of the numerous obstacles of 


various kinds in the face of which this gigantic enter- 
prise was prosecuted and finally accomplished. In addi- 
tion to the difficulties arising from the nature of the 
ground, which presented great diversity of bottom as 
well as of level, others of a still more formidable and 
discouraging nature soon began to beset the progress of 
the undertaking. ‘The envy of some, and the contempt 
and ridicule of others, aided the opposition by which 
interested and influential parties were enabled, under 
pretence of the public good, to seek their own ends. 
Then, worst of all, came the deficiency of Myddleton’s 
means; the expense of the works turned out so much 
greater than he had anticipated, that long before it was 
brought to a close it had swallowed up the whole of his 
large fortune. He was obliged to crave the assistance 
both of the King and of the city. It is said that the 
whole sum which he expeuded did not fall short ot 
five hundred thousand pounds. At this cost, however, 
the work was at last finished in the autumn of 1613. 
On Michaelmas that year, the day on which Sir Thomas 
Myddleton, Mr. Myddleton’s brother, was elected Lord 
Mayor, the water was admitted ito the basin at Penton- 
ville, with much form and ceremony, in the presence of 
the Lord Mayor then in office, the Aldermen, the Re- 
corder, and many of the principal citizens. A body of 
about sixty of the labourers, tastefully dressed, having 
marched three times round the basin, preceded by drums 
and trumpets, the whole then stopped, when one of their 
number addressed the civic dignitaries and the company, 
who were seated on an eminence, in a rude metrical effu- 
sion of considerable length, which Stow has preserved, 
but of which we can only afford to quote a very few 
lines ; — 
“ Clerk of the work, reach me the book, to show 

How many arts from such a labour flow. 

First, here’s the Overseer, this tried man, 

An ancient soldier, and an artizan ; 

The Clerk next him, a mathematician. 

The Master of the Timber-work takes place 

Next after these; the Measurer in like case, 

Bricklayer and Engineer; and after those 

The Borer and the Paviour; then it shows 

The Labourers next; Keeper of Amwell Head ; 

The Walkers last ; so all their names are read. 

Yet these but parcels of six hundred more, 

That at one time have been employed before.” 


On the conclusion of this address, the shuices were 
opened, and aimidst the sound of drins and trumpets, 
the discharge of ordnauce, and the acclamations of the 
inultitude, the water rushed into the basin, which it has 
never since ceased to fill. 

It is lamentable to reflect that Myddleton was entirely 
ruined by this speculation. This misfortune befell him, 
notwithstanding that the King resigned to him the 
share, being one half, of the profits to which he was 
entitled by their agreement, retaining only the right to 
an annual payment of £500. ‘The value of the shares 
thus relinquished, which are called the King’s shares, 
still remains somewhat lower in the market than that of 
the others, or the Adventurers’ shares, in conseyuence of 
each holder being burdened with his proportion of this 
payment. Myddleton was knighted soon after the com- 
pletion of his great work, and he was made a baronet in 
1622. He was now, however, obliged to support him- 
self by taking employinent as an engineer. He died in 
1631 in poor circumstances; and not long ago some of 
the descendants of this great national benefactor were 
found in a state of such destitution as to call for an 
appeal in their behalf to the charity of the public. 

The undertaking, however, which thus brought ruin 
upon the man by whan it was projected and executed, 
has formed the source of great wealth to many other 
individuals. To the inhabitants of London and _ its 
vicinity in general, the New River has proved a 
blessing of incalculable magnitude. Accerding to the 


1833. 


report of a commissien appointed under the great 
seal, in 1828, the number of tenants supplied by the 
New River Company was then between 66,060 und 
67,000, and the quantity of water daily supplied exceeded 
13,000,000 callons, being about 2,000,000 cubic feet. 
This was a quantity rather exceeding the whole of that 
supplied by the other four water companies, the East 
London, the West Middlesex, the Chelsea, and the 
Grand Junction, upon which the northern portion of the 
metropolis is dependent. Liven including the large dis- 
tricts of Sonthwark and Lambeth, which are served 
by the Lambeth, the South London, and the Southwark 
works, the whole quantity consumed daily was about 
29,000,000 gallons, or 4,650,000 cubic feet, not a wreat 
deal more than twice that supplied by the New River 
alone. ‘Lhe whole quantity of 29,000,000 gallons of 
water, daily supplied to the inhabitants of London, is 
distributed to about 125,000 houses and other build- 
ings, which is at the rate of above 200 gallons every day 
to each house. ‘The average cost to each house for this 
wonderful supply is about two-pence a day; which is a 
less price than the labour {of an able-bodied man would 
be worth to fetch a single bucket from a spring half a 
mile from his own dwelling. 

The following extract from Dr. Arnott’s Elements of 
Physics well explains the general nature of the arrange- 
ments by which this immense distribution is effected, and 
places in a striking light the mestimable importance of 
the blessing which London thus enjoys :— 


“The supply and distribution of water in a large city, par- 
ticularly since the steam-engine has been added to the appa- 
ratus, approaches closely to the perfection of nature’s own 
work in the circulation of blood through the animal body. 
From the great pumps, or a high reservoir, a few main pipes 
issue to the chief divisions of the town; these send suitable 
branches to the streets, which branches again divide for the 
lanes and alleys; and at last subdivide until into every house 
a small leaden conduit rises, which, if required, carries its pre- 
cious freight into the separate apartments, and yields it there 
to the turning of a cock. A corresponding arrangement of 
drains and sewers, most carefully constructed in obedience 
to the law of level, receives the water again when it has an- 
swered its purposes, and carries it to be purified in the great 
laboratory of the ocean. And so admirably complete and 
perfect is this counter-system of slopimg channels, that a 
heavy shower may fall, and, after washing and punfying 
every superficial spot of the city, and sweeping out all the 
subterranean passages, may, within the space of an hour, be 
all collected again in the river passing by. It is the recur- 
rence of this almost miracle, of extensive, sudden, and per- 
fect purification, which has made London the most healthy, 
while it is the largest city in the world. English citizens 
have now become so habituated to the blessing of a supply of 
pure water, more than sufficient for all their purposes, that 
if no more surprises them than the regularly returning light 
of day or warmth ofsummer. Butaretrospect into past times 
may still awaken them to a sense of their obligation to ad- 
vancing art. How much of the anxiety and labour of men in 
former times had reijation to the supply of this precious ele- 
ment! How often, formerly, has periodical pestilence arisen 
from deficiency of water, and how often has fire devoured 
whole cities, which a timely supply of water might have 
saved! or these reasons kings have received almost divine 
honours for constructing aqueducts, to lead the pure streams 
from the mountains into the peopled towns. In the present 
day, only he who has travelled on the sandy plains of Asia 
or Africa, where a well is more prized than mines of gold, or 
who has spent months on ship-board, where the fresh water 
is doled out with more caution than the most precious pro- 
duct of the still, or who has vividly sympathized with the 
victims of siege or ship-wreek, spreading out their garments 
to catch the rain from heaven, and then, with mad eagerness, 
sucking the delicious moisture—only he can appreciate fully 
the blessing of that abundant supply which most of us now 
so thoughtlessly enjoy. The author will long remember the 
intense momentary regret with which, on once approaching a 
beautiful land, after months spent at sea, he saw a little 
stream of fresh water sliding over a rock into the salt waves— 
it appeared to him as a most precious essence, by some acci- 
dent pouring out to waste,” 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3% 
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. 


T'nu Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold 

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on tile tent 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee, 


Like the leaves of the forest when summer is ereen, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen: 
Like the leaves of the forest when: autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay wither’d and strown. 


For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass’d; 

And the eyes of the sleepers wax’d deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heav’d, and for ever prew still. 


And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 

But through it there roll’d not the breath of his pride: 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold, as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 


And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 

With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ;— 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 

The lances uplifted, the trumpet unblown. 


And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; 

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord ! 
Byron. 


MOZART. 


Tue 27th of January is the anniversary of the birth of 
a wonderful being, the great musician Mozart. John 
Chrysostom Wolfgang Theophilus Mozart was the son of 
Leopold Mozart, one of the musicians belonging to the 
chapel of the Prince Archbishop of Saltzbure, in which 
town he was born in 1756. He, and a sister four years 
older than himself, alone of a family of seven children 
survived the years of infancy. His father and mother 
were both remarkable for their good looks,—an advan- 
tage which their son did not inherit. But he was 
almost from the cradle a prodigy of musical genius. 
He was only three years old when his attention was 
excited in the most extraordinary manner by the 
lessons which his father then beran to give his sister 
on the harpsichord; and in another year he was rapidly 
learning to play minuets and other pieces of music 
himself. At the age of five, he composed numerous 
pieces, which his father wrote down. Music now be- 
came the child’s only passion; the society of his little 
playmates was abandoned; he would have willingly 
remained at his harpsichord almost from morning to 
night. Soon after this, his father determined to exhibit 
him at the different German courts. In the autumn of 
1762, accordingly, the whole family proceeded to Vienna, 
Here the boy played before the Ismperor Francis I, 
when his performance excited the utinost astonishment 
among some of the first proficients in the art. It was 
with reluctance, indeed, that he would consent to play 
except to those whom he believed to be Judges of music. 
When he first sat down to his instrument with the 
Emperor by his side, ‘Is not M. Wagenseil here ?” he 
said, addressing himself to his Majesty ; ‘“‘ we must send 
for him; he understands the thing.” That composer 
was accordingly brought forward to occupy the place of 
the Emperor; and he turned over the leaves of one of 
his own concertos, while the piece was executed by his 
young brother artist. Soon after this Mozart learned, 

nearly without instruction, to play on the violin. Next 
year he visited in succession Munich, Augsburg, Mann- 
heim, Francfort, Coblentz, Brussels, and lastly Paris ; 

in all of which cities his performances were listened to 

with universal delizht and wonder. Nor did he produce 

less effect when, in April 1764, he made his appearance 

in England. After playing the organ in the Royal 

Chapel, he and his sister gave a grand concert, all the 

symphonies of which were of his own composition. 

‘‘ Notwithstanding their continual removals,” says his 

Life by M. Schlictegroll, ‘they practised with the 

greatest regularity, and Wolfgang began to sing difil- 


32 PHGs 
cult airs, which he executed with great expression. The 
incredulous, at Paris and at London, had put him to the 
trial with various difficult pieces of Bach, Handel, and 
other masters; he played them immediately, at first 
sight, and with the greatest possible correctness. He 
played one day, before the King of Mngland, a piece 
full of melody, from the bass only. At another time, 
Christian Bach, the Queen’s music-master, took little 
Mozart between his knees, and played a few bars. 
Mozart then continued, and they thus played alternately 
a whole sonata, with such precision, that those who did 
not see them thought it was executed by the same per- 
son. During his residence in England, that is, when 
he was eight years old, Wolfgang composed six sonatas, 
which were engraved at London, and dedicated to the 
Queen.” 

He remained in this country till July, 1765, and then 
returning to the Continent, made a tour through the 
principal towns of the Low Countries. After this he re- 
visited Paris, and thence proceeded by the way of Lyons 
and Switzerland to his native place, which he reached 
in November, 1766. He remained at home, assiduously 
engaged in the practice of his art, for above three years. 
At length, in December 1769, he set out for Italy. 
Though he had now reached his fourteenth year, the 
additional skill he had acquired more than compensated 
for any diminution of the wonder that had at first been 
excited by his extreme youth. He was now a perfectly 
accomplished musician; and his performances, being in 
themselves nearly all that the most refined taste and 
science could desire, required no tale of the marvellous 
to set them off. After visiting Milan, Bologna, and 
Florence, he reached Rome in the Passion week. Here 
he performed the surprising feat of memory of taking 
down, after hearing it in the Sistine chapel, the famous 
Miserere of Gregorio Allegri, of which the performers 
of the chapel are said to have been forbidden to give 
a copy, on pain of excommunication. A second oppor- 
tunity of hearing it played a few days after, enabled Mo- 
zart, who held his first sketch in the crown of his hat, 
to make his copy more perfectly correct ; and next year 
the niusic was published in London, under the super- 
intendence of Dr. Burney. lis progress through this 
land of music was a continued trmmph. While he was 
playing at Naples, the audience suddenly took it into 
their heads that a mng which he wore on his finger was 
a talisman, and interrupted the performance until he 
consented to lay it aside, and to convince them that he 
Was not indebted to the art of magic for his wonderful 
power. Returning to Milan, he there produced his first 
opera, the ‘ Mithridate.” It was played for twenty nights 
in succession. I*or some succeeding years his time was 
principally spent at Saltzbure, with occasional visits 
to Milan, Munich, and Vienna. At last, in September 
1777, he proceeded in company with his mother to Paris, 
with the intention of making that capital their residence. 
Gut soon after their arrival, his mother, to whom he was 
tenderly attached, died; and that event, added to the 
strong contempt with which he regarded the then prevail- 
lig musical style of the French, determined him to return 
to his father. He left Saltzbure again in November, 1779, 
for Vienna; and in this capital he remained till the close 
of his life. , 
Mademoiselle Constance Weber, who proved to him one 
of the best of wives; and it was in the first glow of his 
passion for this lady, that he composed his celebrated 
opera of ‘Idomeneo,’ which he always regarded as 
the greatest of his works. After this he wrote his ‘ Zau- 
berfldte,’ his * Nozze di Figaro,’ his ‘ Don Giovanni,’ 
aud his ‘ Clemenza di Tito,’ which all rank among the 
noblest triumphs of musical genius. 

* Mozart's last work was his celebrated ‘ Requiem,’ which 
was undertaken at the order of a stranger. The circum- 
sta ces under which he received this commission being 


somewhat mysterious, as related by the German bio- | 


PENNY 


Here, at the age of twenty-five, he married | 


MAGAZINE. rJanuary 26, 1833. 
erapher already quoted, are said to have had an unfa- 
vourable influence on his spirits and health. ‘The fact is 
certain, that while in a very weak and sickly state, he 
applied himself with great ardour to the composition of 
this Requiem. While thus employed, he was seized 
with the most alarming fainting fits; but the work was 
persisted in and completed before his death, which took 
place on the 5th December, 1792, when he had not com 

pleted his thirty-seventh year. 


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[Portrait of Mozart. ] 


Infant Asylums.—tIt is deserving of attention, that, in 
dependently of schools for the elementary instruction of 
children above the age of six, in the Duchy of Saxe Weimar, 
every village contaiis a district asylum for the reception of 
children below that age, who have hitherto been left without 
any superintendence at home, whilst their parents were 
absent at their work. This abandonment has been, and 
notoriously is, the prolifie source of idle and vagabond habits, 
which it is extremely difficult to eradicate in after years. The 
asylums in question have, therefore, been opened for the 
purpose of remedying this crying evil; the parents send their 
children to them in the morning, and fetch them home iu 
the evening. In the interim they are fed and taken care of, 
besides being taught to read and say their prayers. There 
is not a single village in the whole Grand-duchy, which is 
not provided with one of these excellent ‘ Asylum Schools,’ 
as they are termed; and they are rapidly spreading all over 
Germany.— Quarterly Journal of Education, No. IX. 





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93. | December 31, 1832, to January 31, 1833. 








YORK MINSTER, 





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[West Front of York Minster. ] 


Tie term Minster, which was used by our Saxon | of religious persons forming the chapter of each of 
ancestors, is a corruption of the Latin Monasterium, | these establishments, and giving it the apvearance of a 
a house tenanted by monks, or what we still call a monastic community. In this way we still speak of 
monastery. Minster, however, is now generally used York Minster, and West-minster,—the latter name 
to designate a cathedral church, to which it was no | having been at first given, not to the city in which the 
doubt originally applied with a reference to the retinue | church of St. Peter stands, but to the church itself, 


Vot, II. b 


34 


to distinguish it from the other minster of St. Paul’s 
in the-east; although, forgetting this, we now say 
Westminster Abbey, with the same sort of tautology,. or 
repetition, which we employ when we call the residence 
of the Lord Mayor the Mansion House, as if a mansion 
were notin fact a house. Many such irregularities have 
insinuated themselves into our own, and probably into 
every other language. 
~ Among buildings in what is called the Gothie style, 
York Minster has generally been regarded as without 
a rival in England, or perhaps in Europe. The city, 
of which it is the chief ornament, has been famous 
in this island from the most ancient times. Under 
the name of Eboracum, it appears to have been one 
of the principal settlements of the Romans. Here the 
Emperor Severus died in the beginning of the third cen- 
tury, and the Emperor Constantius, the father of Con- 
stantine the Great, in the beginning of the fourth. In 
the times of the Saxons, it was the capital of the king- 
dom of Deira, and afterwards of the powerful kingdom 
of Northumberland, formed from the union of Deira 
and Bernicia, and occasionally enjoying the pre-eminence 
both in power and in acknowledged rank over all the other 
states of the heptarchy. Our old historians maintain 
that York was the seat of a Christian bishopric lone 
before the arrival of the Saxons; and they mention 
three or four prelates who, they pretend, occupied the 
see in succession after its foundation by the British 
king Lucius, who flourished in the second century. 
But very little dependence can be placed upon these 
traditions; and it is even doubtful if such a prince as 
Lucius ever existed. ‘The establishment of the present 
see of York dates from a considerably more recent era. 
Augustine, the apostle of the Emglish, arrived in the 
Isle of Thanet, which formed part of the kingdom of 
Kent, in the year 597. He was soon after consecrated 
Archbishop of Canterbury, and, according to the gene- 
rally received account, died in 605. Kent, however, 
was as yet, and for some time after, the only portion of 
the island into which the light of the Gospel had pene- 
trated. Pope Gregory, indeed, by whom Augustine 
and his companions had been deputed, had commanded 
that an archbishop should be established at York, to 
exercise the same jurisdiction over the northern parts of 
the country as Augustine was authorized to exercise 
over the south. But it was not till the year 624 that 
any attempt even seems to have been made to introduce 
Christianity into the northern district. In that year, 
Edwin, the able and powerful king of Northumberland, 
married E:thelburga, the sister of Ebald, king of Kent, 
« convert, like the rest of her family, to the new religion, 
aid a lady of great worth and piety. It was with 
xtreme reluctance that this princess was prevailed upon 
to give her hand to her idolatrous suitor, although Ed- 
win was accounted the sovereign of the heptarchy; nor 
would she consent to marry him, until he had promised 
to allow her the free exercise of her religion, and the 
company of such ecclesiastics as she chose to take along 
with her. Among these was Paulinus, one of the origi- 
nal associates of Augustine, who, before he set out for 
his new residence, was consecrated Bishop of the Nor- 
thumbrians by Justus then Archbishop of Canterbury. 
Paulinus, however, for some time made very little pro- 
gress in the work of conversion which he had thus 
undertaken. Neither his eloquence nor that of Ethel- 
burga could prevail upon Edwin to forsake the faith of 
his fathers; and, till their king should lead the way, 
very few of the people were disposed to give heed to 
any thing that. was addressed to themon the subject. At 
length the conversion of the king was effected through 
the influence upon his mind of a vision, or dream, which 
gave a miraculous kind of interest to the exhortations of 
‘Paulinus. Bede, the ecclesiastical historian, has re- 
Jated this circumstance with minute particularity. The 
baptism of Edwin gave occasion ty the erection of 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


(January 31, 


the first Christian temple at York—the original mother 
of the present cathedral. The ceremony was performed 
on Easter-day, the 12th of Apmil, 627, in a wooden 
building which was hastily raised, and placed, it is said, 
on the same spot on which the Minster now stands. But 
soon after Edwin took down this temporary structure, 
and commenced the erection of a new church of stone, 
which however he did not live to complete, having been 
slain in a great battle fought at Hatfield in the West 
Riding, in 633, against Penda, king of Mercia, aided by 
Cadwalla, the British king of Wales. Paulinus left his 
diocese on the occurrence of this disastrous catastrophe, 
and was afterwards appointed Bishop of Rochester. 
After some time, however, tranquillity was in some 
degree restored in Northumberland, and the building 
of the church begun by Edwin was carried on by one of 
his successors, Oswald, a son of his uncle Adelfrid. 
But it was not completed till long after his death, by 
Wilfrid, the archbishop of the see, a most haughty and 
turbulent prelate, whose history presents a very curious 
picture of the English Church in those remote times. 
The edifice, thus at last brought to a close, is described 
as having been of a square, or at least of a rectangular 
form, and was probably very plain, as were all the 
buildings of that age. It did not stand long, having 
been burnt to the ground by an accidental fire in 741. 
It was soon after rebuilt ; but in 1069 it was a second 
time reduced to ruins in a similar manner; the Nor- 
man garrison who occupied the city while it was 
besieged by the insurgent population of the surrounding 
country, having, in order to drive away the enemy, set 
fire to a* part of the suburbs, from which the flames 
overspread and laid waste near half the city. On this 
occasion there perished a famons library which was 
deposited in the cathedral, collected by Archbishop 
Egbert, who possessed the see from 730 till 736. Of 
this library Charlemagne’s preceptor, the celebrated 
Alcuin, who received his education at York, speaks 
both in his letters and poems in terms of the highest 
admiration, enumerating in one place a long list of 
authors contained in it, some of which are now uo 
longer extant. The year after this event the Conqueror 
appointed to the see of York, Thomas, a canon of 
Bayeux in Normandy, who had been his chaplain and 
treasurer ; and the new prelate was not long in setting 
about the restoration of his metropolitan church. He 
rebuilt it on a larger scale than before, and for the first 
time formed the establishment into a reg@ular chapter, 
endowing it with prebends and other dignities. The 
fabric, however, was again accidentally burnt down, iu 
1137, along with the ereater part of the city. In 1171 
Roger de Bishopsbridge, who was archbishop from 1154 
till 1181, again began a new edifice by the erection of 
a choir, where that of the present building now stands. 
But, as we shall presently see, no part of Archbishop 
Roger’s work remains in the existing cathedral. 

The choir being completed by this prelate, one of his 
successors, Archbishop Walter de Grey, commenced the 
building of the south part of the cress aisle or transept 
about 1227. ‘The north transept was erected by John 
le Romayne, treasurer of the cathedral, about 1260. 
Over the centre of the whole he raised a steeple, but not 


the noble lantern tower which new occupies that posi- 


tion. ‘Ihe first stone of the nave, or body of the church, 
to the west of the transept, was laid by his son, the 
archbishop of the same name, on the 7th of April, 1291 ; 
and the nave was finished, as well as the two towers 
which crown its western extremity, in 1330, in the pre- 
lacy of William de Melton. The building, therefore; 
was now once more complete ; but the comparative 
plainness of the more ancient portions of it being felt to 
suit ill with the maenificence of those last erected, Arch- 
bishop John de Thoresby, who came to the see in 1354, 
determined to take down the choir of his predecessor, : 
Archbishop Roger, and to replace it by another more in 


1833.] 


harmony with the rest of the structure. He commenced 
this great work in 1375; but it is not perfectly certain 
when it was finished, some parts of the choir exhibiting 
the arms of Archbishops Scrope and Bowet, Thoresby’s 
successors, the latter of whom succeeded to the see in 
1405. Meanwhile, it had also been resolved to take 
down the central steeple erected by John le Komayne ; 
and in its place the present lantern tower was begun 
to be built in 1370. ‘The whole was probably finished, 
and the Minster bronght to the state in which we now 
see it, about 1410 or 1412. 

Irom this account it appears that the successive parts 
of the building, in the order of their antiquity, are the 
south transept, the north transept, the nave, the central] 
tower, and, lastly, the choir, proceeding from tlie west end 
to the east. Reviewed in this order the Cathedral of 
York forms a most interesting and instructive architec- 
tural study. It is perhaps the most perfect example to 
be any where found of the history and progress of the 
Gothic style during the period of not much less than two 
centuries, which its construction occupied. In this place 
we can only remark generally, that a continued and 
regular improvement in grace and lightness of form, 
and a more and more lavish profusion of minute and 
elaborate ornament, will be found to form the leading 
characteristics of that progress in England, during the 
whiole of the period in question. 

York Minster, as may be understood from what has 
been already stated, is built in the form of a cross, the 
longer bar, forming the choir and nave of the church, 
lying, as usual, east and west, and the shorter, called tlie 


transept, north and south. Over the ceutre of the build- | 


ing, supported on four massive pillars, rises a grand 
tower to the height of 213 feet from the floor. ‘This is 
said to be only a portion of the altitude originally designed 


by the architect, who intended to surmount this stone | 


erectiou by a steeple of wood covered with lead, had he 
not been deterred by a fear lest the foundation should 
prove insufficient to sustain so great a weight. Over the 
west end of the building are two other towers or steeples 
rising to the height of 196 feet. ‘The whole length of 
the building from east to west is 5244 feet, and that of 
the transept, from north to south, 222. The length of 
the choir is 1574 feet, and its breadth 464; in addition 
to which the east end of the choir contains a chapel be- 
hind the altar dedicated to the Virgin, making an entire 
length of 222 feet. ‘The length of the nave is 261 feet; 
its breadth (including the aisles), 109 ; and its height, 
99. These measurements (with the exception of the 
height of the towers at the west end, which is not given 
in that work) are taken from the last edition of Dug- 
dale’s Monasticon Anglicanum, by Caley, Ellis, and 
Bandinel, in 6 vols. folio, London, 1830. 
York Minster has not the advantage of standing upon 
a height ; yet its enormous mass makes it a conspicuous 
object from a great distance, and nothing can be grander 
or more imposing than the aspect which its lofty but- 
tresses and grey towers present as they are seen rising 
over the surrounding houses of the city, which look like 
the structures of a more pigmy generation beneath the 
gieantic and venerable pile. Excepting on the north side 
¥ .cre an open space of considerable extent has been 
formed by clearing away the old archiepiscopal palace, it 
is every where closely encompassed by other buildings, 
several of which approach within a few yards of its walls. 
There is scarcely, ti:erefore, a spot from which any one 
of its fronts can be completely or satisfactorily seen ; 
except from a distance, where of course only the, upper 
parts of the building are visible. The formation of a 
large open square around the noble old edifice, so that 
the whole might be viewed as perfectly as the north side, 
would exhibit the gigantic pile in all its surpassing mag- 
nificence. For the present the grandeur of the Minster 
must be sought for principally in its interior. ‘The effect 
of the whole prolonged and lofty extent, as seen on enter- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3D 


ing from the great west door, is perhaps as sublime as 
any ever produced by architecture. -Under favourable 
circumstances, such as the rich illumination of a settins 
sun, the impressions of awe, and veneration, and we may 
add delight, produced upon the mind by the erandeur 
and beauty of this wonderful building, are perhaps 
superior i intensity to the effects of any other work of 
man’s hands. We doubt whether the finest Grecian temple 
could ever so touch the hidden springs of enthusiasm in 
our nature. ‘The choir is divided from the nave by a 
stone screen; but this ornamental partition is so low 
as not to intercept the view of the portion of the roof 
beyond, nor “the dim religious light” streaming from 
the magnificent ‘‘ storied window” that fills the east 
end of the building. This screen and the great east 
window are two of the proudest ornaments of the cathe- | 


dral. The former is a work in the very richest style of 
ornamental carving ; and fortunately it is in almost 


perfect preservation. It is divided into compartments 
by fifteen uiches, which contain the statues of the English 
kings from the Conqueror to Henry VI. inclusive. The , 
place of the last-mentioned monarch used to be occu- 
pied by a figure of James I., which it is said was sub- 
stituted for that of Heury, after the latter had been 
displaced in consequence of the disposition manifested 
by the people to pay it a sort of idolatrous reverence, 
in memory of the holy king. It seems to have been 
thought there was no danger of their falling into the 
same excess of observance towards James's effigy. 
James, however, was not many years ago taken down 
from a situation where he was certainly out of place, 
and a new statue ot Henry, carved by a York sculptor, 
put in the niche. The great east window is of the vast 
dimensions of 75 feet in height by 32 in ‘breadth. It 
is formed of above 200 compartments of painted glass. 
According to Mr. Britton, in his ‘ Cathedral Anti- 
quities,’ the figures are generally from two feet two, to 
two feet four inches in height. The heads in particular 
are many of them drawn with exquisite beauty. ‘Lhe 
fabrication of this noble specimen of art was begun in 
1405, by John Thornton, of Coventry, whose agreement 
was to complete it in three years, during which time he 


| was to have a salary of four shillings a week, with 100 


shillings additional per annum, and £10 more on finish- 


| ing the work, if it should be done to the satisfaction of 


his employers. 

Attached to the northern transept of the cathedral is 
the Chapter House, an octagonal building, with a conical _ 
roof, the interior of which consists of one apartment of 
ereat magnificence. It is 63 feet in diameter and 67 
feet 10 inches in height, the arched roof being supported 
without pillars. Around are arranged the stalls, forty - 
four in number, formed of the finest marble, and having’ 
their canopies sustained by slender columns. A window 
occupies each of the eight sides, except that in which is 
the entry from the transept. 

York Minster contains a good many tombs, some of 
them of considerable beauty; but these we cannot here 
attempt to describe. Among the curiosities preserved in 
the vestry we can notice only the ancient chair, said to 
have been used at the coronation of some of the Saxon 
kings, and on which the Archbishop is still on certain 
occasions accustomed to seat himself; and the famous 
horn of Ulphus, one of the most curious relics of Saxon 
antiquity which have been preserved to our times. A 
learned dissertation respecting this horn, by Mr. Samuel 
Gale, may be found in the first volume of the ‘ Archizo-- 
logia.’ It was presented to the cathedral by Ulphus, a 
Lord of Deira, whose drinking horn it probably had 
been, along with and in testimony and confirmation of a 
rant of certain lands, still‘said to be in possession of the 
Chapter, and known by the name of the Terra Ulphi. 
They lie a short distance to the east of the: city. ‘Lhe 
horn, which is in perfect preservation, is of ivory, and’ 


among other sculpture on the outside Is ornamented 
F 2 


= — 


: oy ee on 


36 


with figures of two priffins, a lion, a unicorn, and some 
dogs and trees cut in bas-relief. Mr. Gale is of opinion 
that it was probably presented by Ulphus soon after the 
death of King Canute, which took place, a.p. 1036. 
The horn was carried away at the time of the Reforma- 
tion; but long after fell into the hands of the celebrated 
Thomas Lord Fairfax, by whose son Henry it was 
restored to the cathedral in 1675. 

York Minster, it will be recollected, was very nearly 
destroyed, on the 2d of February, 1829, by the act of an 
insane individual, Jonathan Martin, who, having con- 
cealed himself in the choir after service the preceding 
evening, contrived to kindle a fire in that part of the 
suilding, which was not discovered till seven o'clock in the 
morning. By this time the wood-work of the choir was 
every where in a blaze; but by great exertions, and 
especially by sawing through the beams of the roof, and 
allowing it to fail upon the flames below, the conflagra- 
‘ion was in a few hours subdued. The damage done 
consisted in the entire destruction of the stalls of the 
choir, and of the 222 feet, of roof by which that part of 


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WHITE'S NATURAL HISTORY OF SELBORNE. 

NEARLY fifty years ago the book which bears the above 
title was first published. It wasa modest and unpretend- 
ing octavo volume, which did not aspire to any general 
popularity, and for a long time was known to few but 
professed naturalists. A quarto edition, including ‘The 
Antiquities of Selborne,’ afterwards appeared. % The 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[ Interior of the Choir of York Minster. } 





[January 31, 


the building was covered. The organ over the screen 
was also destroyed, but the screen itself escaped unin- 
jured. A public subscription was immediately com- 
menced for the repair of a loss which was justly con- 
sidered a national one, and the sum of £50,000 was 
collected within two months. The task of effecting the 
restoration was committed to Mr. Smirke; and the work 
was admirably completed in the spring of the present 
year. ‘The scrupulous care with which the restoration 
has been accomplished, so as to preserve every detail of 
the building, is highly creditable to the architect and his 
employers. The roof has been executed in teak, and 
the carved work of the choir in oak. With the exception 
that the choir looks cleaner and fresher than formerly, a 
person unacquainted with its destruction would be unable 
to perceive any change. ‘The organ, one of the finest in 
Europe, was destroyed; and another is being erected in 
its place. Eiven in an unfinished state this appears to be 
a grand instrument; and well calculated for those fine 
choral services, which are heard with more effect in York 
Minster than in any other cathedral. 






» 


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Sn Pe EZ; at ¥ wer * > ™, 

Te aaa SAT ESS CLA 

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a 


Natural History of Selborne,” says the author of the 
Menageries, “ was written by the Rev. Gilbert White, who 
for forty years scarcely stirred from the seclusion of his 
native village, employing his time, most innocently and 
happily for himself, and most instructively for the world, 
in the observation and description of the domestic ani- 
mals, the birds, and the insects by which he was sur- 


1833.] 


rounded. He does not raise our wonder by stories of 
the crafty tiger or the sagacious elephant ; but he notes 
down the movements of ‘the old family tortoise ;’ jis 
not indifferent to the reason ‘ why wagtails run round 
cows when feeding in moist pastures ;’ and watches the 
congregating and disappearance of swallows with an in- 
dustry which could alone determine the long-disputed 
question of their migration. Mr. White derived great 
pleasure from these pursuits, because they opened to his 
mind new fields of inquiry, and led him to perceive that 
what appears accidental in the habits of the animal world, 

is the result of some unerring instinct, or some singular 


exercise of the perceptive powers, affording the most | 


striking objects of contemplation to a philosophic mind.” 

It is this accuracy of observation, combined with a 
cheerful, benevolent, and pious spirit, which has at 
length rendered the Natural History of Selborne a book 
for all. ‘Though its details have immediate reference to 
an obscure hamlet on the borders of a barren heath in 
Hampshire, the subjects of which it treats are common 
to every district, and are consequently of universal in- 
terest. The work, therefore, has been very properly 
reprinted, within the last year or two, 1n several forms. 
There is a cheap edition in Constable's Miscellany ; 
and a library edition, containing the Antiquities of Sel- 
borne, some very interesting notes by naturalists of the 
present day, and many well-execnted wood-cuts, has just 
appeared*. ‘The wood-cuts are to our minds extremely 
pleasing. We have a view of the low-roofed hall, with 
its massive chimneys and squat gables, in which the 
happy old clergyman resided,—as well as several others 
of the sequestered village, and adjacent lanes and dingles, 
where he delighted to watch the movements of the birds 
and insects, with whom he cultivated the most intimate 
companionship. ‘There is nothing particularly striking 
in these scenes, but they are thoroughly English; and 
above all they are such as the greater part of our rural 
population dwell amongst, showing to us that Mr. White 
had no peculiar opportunities for those delightful pur- 
suits, which in his case, to use his own words, ‘ by 
keeping the mind and body employed, under Providence 
contributed to much health and cheerfulness of spirits, 
even to oid age.” Wherever there is a tree, or a green 
sward, or even a road-side hedge, there may be found as 
abundant materials for the observation of nature, as 
Mr. White possessed ; who, as is well observed in the 
preface to the edition before us, althongh ‘‘ distant from 
musenms and collections, acquired a knowledge of ani- 
mals so extensive and so accurate as to outstrip most of 
his contemporaries who possessed much greater ad- 
vaniages.” 

It is difficult to select a detached passage from the 
Natural History of Selborne that may give a proper 
idea of the merits of this delightful book. Nor is it 
necessary that we should do so; for the work itself 
ought to form a part of every library, and is one 
which we would especially recommend to all those who 
unite for the purchase of standard books. The notes, 
however, of this new octavo edition contain many valua- 
bie facts; and we shall make a few extracts from these, 
which we doubt not will be gratifying to our readers. 

Mr. White has an observation which might lead one 
to think that the tree-frog was a noxious reptile. Upon 
this passage Professor Rennie has the following remark. 
We subjoin a wood-cut of the tree-frog :— 


From the way in which Mr. White speaks of the tree- 
frog (Hyla vulgaris), it might be inferred that he thought 
tt was possessed of injurious qualities, whereas a more inno- 
cent creature does not exist; and it is besides so little, and 
of so beautiful a green, that it 1s a very common pet in Ger- 
many. My friend, J. C. Loudon, Esq., the well-known au- 
thor of the Encyclopsedia of Gardening, kept one for several 


*The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne, by the late 
Rev. Gilbert White. A new edition, with notes, by several eminent 
Naturalists, &c. 8vo. 16s, 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 37 


years; and in the autumn of 1830 I caught one sitting on 
a bramble at Cape La Héve, on the coast of Normandy 
which J kept for many weeks, but it finally escaped froin 
me between Bayswater and Hyde Park Corner, by the 
gauze covering of its glass accidentally slipping off before I 
was aware. Tfrom La Héve being nearly opposite the Isle 
of Wight, I think it not improbable that the tree-frog may 
be found in the south of England; though it may escape 
notice by its smallness, and by its colour being so like that 
of the leaves of the trees which it frequents. The peasants at 
La Héye had never seen one before I showed them mine. 


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{The Tree frog. | 


In a work published a few years ago, ‘ The Journal 
of a Naturalist,’ which is written in the same spirit of 
careful attention to common objects as presides over the 
History of Selborne, there is an observation whicli is at 
variance with a note by the Hon. and Rev. W. H. Herbert, 
which we shall presently give. Mr. Knapp (the anthor 
of the Journal of a Naturalist) says—‘ The golden- 
crested wren, a minute creature, perfectly unmindful of 
any severity in our winter, and which hatclies its young 
in June, the warmer portion of cur year, yet builds its 
most beautiful nest with the utmost attention to warmth.” 





[Nest of the Golden-crested W ren. ] 


=_ 


38 


Yt certain.y appears consonant with the general in- 
stinct of birds, that those species which are most affected 
by cold, should build the warmest nests; and in our 
variable climate the frosts even of the advanced spring 
might otherwise destroy the callow brood. If the golden- 
crested wren were a hardy bird, it is probable that its 
nest would be of slieht texture. The note before us 
states the contrary to be thie fact. 


The golden-crested wren and the common brown wren are 
both very impatient of cold. In confinement, the least 
frost is immediately fatal to them. In a wild state, they 
keep themselves warm by constant active motion in the day, 
and at night they secrete themselves in places where the 
frost cannot reach them; but I apprehend that numbers do 
perish in severe winters. I onee caught half a dozen golden 
wrens at the beginning of winter, and they hved extremely 
well upon ege and meat, being exceedingly tame. At roost- 
ing time there was always a whimsical conflict amongst 
them for the inside places as being the warmest, which 
ended of course by the weakest going to the wall. The 
sccne began with a low whistling call amongst them to roost, 
and the two birds on the extreme nght and left flew on the 
backs of those in the centre, and squeezed themselves into 
the middle. A fresh couple from the flanks immediately 
renewed the attack upon the centre, and the conflict con- 
tinued till the light began to fail them. <A severe frost in 
February killed all but one of them in one night, though in 
a furnished drawing-room. The survivor was preserved in 
a little cage by burying it every night under the sofa 
cushions; but having been, one sharp morning, taken from 
under them before the room was sufiiciently warmed by the 
fire, though perfectly well when removed, it was dead in ten 
minutes. The nightingale is not much more tender of cold 
than a canary-bird. The golden-crowned wren very much 
frequents spruce fir trees and cedars, and hangs its nest 
under their branches: it is also fond of the neighbourhood 
of furze bushes, under which it probably finds warm refuge 
from the cold. The brown wren is very apt, in frosty 
weather, to roost in cow-houses where the cattle keep it 
warm. 


The following anecdote of a yellow wren, who had been 
reared in confinement, and did not forget his benefactor 
even after he had migrated to far-off lands (for the 
ye:ilow wren is a bird of passage), is also given by Mr. 
Herbert :— 

Last year I had reared three cocks from the nest, and 


in July I wished to set one of them at liberty. Having let 
it out of the cage which stood near a window which was 


opened, it continued for a long time hopping and flying’ 


about the top of the cage, and sitting upon the pots upon 
the ledge, and on a bar to which the roses were tied across 
the window At last it began to travel up the creepers 
against the house, and getting upon the roof it flew over the 
puldings, and I did not expect to see it again; but two 
hours after it returned exceedingly hungry, and lit upon 
the upper bar of the middle pane of the lower sash of the 
same window, and pecked hard for admittance. It was let 
in, and fed heartily from my hand, after which it took its 
leave. I saw no more of it for two days, when it returned 
again for a short visit in very good case, and not appearing 
at all pressed for food. About a week after it returned ‘to 
the same pane of glass, pecking as before; but 1 was occu- 
pied with a stranger, on business, and could not attend to 
it, and it departed for the season. On the 23d of July, in 
the following summer, I was standing at the same window, 
when a fine stout cock of this species lit upon the bar of the 
same pane close to my face, and began to peck as before 
for admission. Neither alarmed by my voice, nor my little 
boy’s Jumping up from his seat to look at it, it flew down 
upon some of the cage-pans which happened to be on the 
ledge of the window, and began pecking them as if to get 
food from them. It quickly departed again. But this is 
so contrary to the habits of the wild bird, that I consider it 
quite certain that the bird was my own nursling, which had 
returned, after its trip to Africa, to look at the window 
where it had been reared in its nest. The visit was a very 
pleasant little incident. How many things, which Eu- 
ropeans in vain desire to see, had my little wanderer wit- 
nessed since last he pecked at my window. Perhaps he 
had sung his plaintive notes near the grave of Clapperton, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


“ 
bf 


[January 31, 


or peeped into the seraglio of the King of Timbuctoo, since 
we had parted. , 


We add some amusing remarks by Mr. Herbert, on, 
the facility with which particular birds learn to imitate 
the human voice, or to execute a musical air :— 


The bullfinch, whose natural notes are weak, harsh, and 
insignificant, has a greater facility than any other bird of 
learning human music. It is pretty evident that the Ger- 
mans, who bring vast numbers of them to London which 
they have taught to pipe, must have instructed them more 
by whistling to them, than by an organ; and that their 
instructions have been accompanied by a motion of the head 
and body in accordance with the time; which habit the 
birds also acquire, and is no doubt of great use to them in 
regulating theit song. In the same manner, that wonder- 
ful bird, Colonel O’Kelly’s green parrot, which I had the 
satisfaction of seeing and hearing (about the year 1799, if i 
recollect nightly) beat the time always with its foot; turn- 
img round upon the perch while singing, and marking the 
time as it turned. This extraordinary creature sang per- 
fectly about fifty different tunes of every kind— God save 
the King, solemn psalms, and humorous or low ballads, of 
which it articulated every word as distinctly as a man could 
do, without ever making a mistake. If a by-stander sang 
any part of the song, it would pause and take up the song 
where the person had left off, without repeating what hie 
had said. hen moulting and unwilling to sing, it would 
answer all solicitations by turning its back and repeatedly 
saying, “ Poll’s sick.” J am persuaded that its instructor 
had taught it to beat time. 


We conclude with some remarks by Professor Rennie, 
on the causes of the fall of leaves :— 


It is not enough to account for the fall of the leaf to say it. 
falls because it is weakened or dead; for the mere death of 
a leaf is not sufficient to cause its fall, as when branches are 
struck by hghtning, killed by a bleak wind, or die by any 
similar cause, the dead leaves adhere tenaciously to the dead 
branch. To produce the natural fall of the leaf the branch 
must continue to live while its leaves die and are thrown off 
by the action of its sap vessels. The change of temperature 
from hot to cold seems to be one of the principal circum- 
stances connected with the death and fall of the leaf. Hence 
it is that European trees, growing in the southern hemi- 
sphere, cast their leaves at the approach of winter there, 
which is about the same period of the year that they put 
them forth in their own climate. The native trees of the 
tropics are all evergreens, and like our hollies and pines have 
no general fall of the leaf, though there is always a partial 
fall going forward, and at the same time a renewal of fhe 
loss. : 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


(‘Three Years in North America; by James Stuart, Esq.’ 
8vo. pp. 1094. Edinburgh, 1833.] 


Tits is decidedly one of the most interesting works that 
have yet been written on that most interesting subject-— 
the United States of America. As a picture, indeed, of 
the actual condition of the country, drawn from the life, ° 
and by an honest and able observer, we know of no 
other publication which we should compare with it. 
The great merit of Mr. Stuart’s book appears to us~ 
to be this. Although he has told us thronghout 
what he thinks upon matters of the highest general 
interest with perfect frankness, his work is mainly ° 
made up, not of arguments and speculations, but of 
facts—of what he actually saw and heard, rather 
than of any particular views or opinions with which 
he seeks to impress his readers. It is in the first 


2 vols, 


place one of the most comprehensive descriptions of the 


great Transatlantic Republic which any traveller has yet 
given to us. Mr. Stuart was in America from August, 
1828, till April, 1831,—a period, as his title-page inti- - 
mates, of nearly three years; and during this protracted 
residence he not only made himself master of every thing . 
that was to be seen and learned at New York, the heart. 


of the Union, which was his principal home, and com- 


pleted a tour by Albany and Utica to Lake Erie and. 


rn a 


1833.| 


the Falls of Niagara, returning by Saratoga, Boston, 
and the sea-coast of Massachusetts and Connecticut ; 
but he also visited the southern states, Virginia, North 
and South Carolina, Geor@ia, and Alabama, and after 
that the principal districts lying to the west of the 
Alleghany mountaims, Louisiana, Illinois, and the other 
‘provinces of the new domain of civilization so rapidly 
extending over the mighty vale of the Mississippi. He 
traversed the Republic therefore in every direction ; and 
made himself acquainted with each of its grand natural 
and political divisions in the north, in the south, and in the 
West. 
which has appeared—an advantage of no small mo- 
ment in the description of a country where change and 
progress are every where so busy, that, in maily respects, 
it may almost be said to outgrow any likeness that is 
drawn of it faster than itcan besketched. Mr. Stuart has 
taken for hissmotto an aphorism of Dr. Johnson: “ The 
true state of every nation is the state of common life-;” and 
in the spirit of this remark he has made it his chief object 
to place before his readers the domestic and social con- 
dition and habits of the people among whom he travelled. 
Certainly so minute and complete a view of tle Ameri- 
calis in these respects, and one at the same time so evi- 
dently the result of honest as well as acute and careful 
observation, and ‘so perfectiy undistorted by any thing 
like either malevolence or prejudice, has not till now been 
laid before the British public. Whatever difference of 
opinion may be entertained as to some of Mr. Stuart’s 
speculative views or notions, it is impossible to read even 
a few pages of his book without feeling both a respect 
for his intelligence, and much esteem for the sincerity, 
the manliness, and the liberal, philanthropic, and tolerant 
temper, which evidently animate every sentence he writes. 
There are some subjects of the very highest importance 
and interest, in regard to which ample details will be 
found in these volumes. We would direct attention in 
particular to tle full and most valuable account of the 
State Prison at Auburn in vol. i., chap. 6; to the ac- 
count of the state of agriculture in the territory of New 
York in chap. 12; to the notices of the American sys- 
tem of schools for popular education in chap. 14; to 
the interesting account in vol. ii., chap 13, of New Har- 
mony, and the extraordinary experiment of which it was 
the scene; and to the details in the earlier chapters of 
the same volume respecting the slavery of the southern 
states. But these passagres are all too long for our space, 
and we must therefore content ourselves by appending the 
following shorter extract as a specimen of the work :— 


I had not been long at Mr. Anderson's, when I was ap- 
plied to by a good-looking young man from the west of Fife- 
shire in Scotland, whose name was John Boswell, to give 
him, or procure for him, a letter of recommendation to a ship- 
builderin New York. I had never seen him before, so far 
as | knew; but I had been acquainted with his father, a 
very respectable person in his line, a farm overseer to the 
late Mr. Muiter of Annfield, near Dunfermline. Boswell’s 
story was this:—He had been bred a ship-carpenter, had 
married, and was the father of two children. Finding his 
wages of about 2s. or 2s. 6d. per day insufiicient for the main- 
tenance of his family, he commenced being toll-keeper, but 
dad not succeed in his new profession. He had, therefore, 
brought his wife and children to New York, being possessed 
only of a small sum of money, and of some furniture, a fowl- 
ing-piece, &c. He had made application, immediately on 
lus arrival at New York, some weeks previously for employ- 
ment, but no one would receive him into his ship-building 
yard, in which there is much valuable property, without 
attestations of his character for honesty and sobriety. He 
accidentally heard of my being in the neighbourhood, and 
applied to me to give him such attestations. Knowing 
nothing previously of this young man but what I have men- 
tioned, it was impossible for me to comply with his request, 
but I gave him a letter to a gentleman in the neighbour- 
nood of New York, who might, I thought, be of use to him, 
stating exactly what I knew of him. Workmen in the ship- 
building line were at this period plentiful, aud months fol- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Secondly, this is the latest account of America. 


39 


lowed before any opening occurred for employing Eoswell. 
In the mean time his finances were exhausted, and he had 
been obliged to part with some of the property he had 
brought with him. He was beginning to wish himself well 
home again when an offer of work was made to him. I hap- 


| pened to be in New York on the very day when this oe- 


curred, and remember well the pleasure which beamed in 
his eyes when he told me of the offer, and asked me what 
wages he should propose. My advice to him was to leave 
that matter to his master, after he had been at work for a 
week, and showed what he could do. The next time I saw 
Boswell he was in the receipt of two dollars a day for ten 
hours’ work, and of as much more at the same rate per hour, 
if he chose to be longer employed. His gains—for he 
told me that he could live at one-half of the expense which 
it cost him to live in Scotland, although his family here had 
animal food three times a day—soon enabled him to have a 
comfortable well-furnished house, where I again and again 
saw his family quite happy, and in which he had boarders. 
I sent for him to Hoboken, where I was then living, two or 
three days before I left New York in the month of April 
1831, that I might learn if I could be the bearer of any 
communication to his friends in Scotland. He came over 
to mé with a better suit of clothes on his back and a better 
umbrella than, I believe, I myself possessed. He only 
wished, he said, his friends to know how well settled he now 
was. He had earned on the preceding day almost as much 
as he could earn at the same business in Scotland in a 
week ; and he hoped in less than twenty years to make a 
fortune, and return to Scotland. 

I have mentioned the whole particulars of this case, be- 
cause it contains information which may be useful to. many. 
I had reason to know, before I left New York, that Boswell 
was an excellent workman,—industrious, honest, and sober, 
He told me that he never drunk much whiskey in his own 
country, and that he would take far less of it at New York, 
where, though it was much cheaper, it was of very inferior 
quality. Certificates of good character are very requisite for 
al! emigrants to the United States, but especially for mecha- 
nics and labourers; and they should either be procured 
from magistrates or from clergymen, no matter to what sect 
they belong. I need not add, that it is most important to 
obtain recommendations, where they can be got, to some 
respectable individual at the port where the emigrants first” 
of all arrive. 


COMPANION TO THE ALMANAC, FOR 1833. 


Tue little volume before us is the sixth of the series pub- 
lished by the Society under the above title. The publi- 
cation is an almost indispensable appendix to every alina- 
nac; and, indeed, were the stamp on almanacs either 
entirely abolished, or reduced to a penny or two-pence, 
the Companion would probably form an integral portion 
of the Almanac itself. In the Umited States, where 
there is no stamp at all upon almanacs, there is an 
excellent publication, formed upon the model of this 
‘Companion,’ which is preceded by the Calendar. In 
Great Britain the Calendar demands a stamp duty of 
fifteen-pence. 

The ‘ Companion,’ for 1833, contains a ereat deal of 
statistical matter of unusual Interest and importance 3 
nor is it without its due share of scientific information. 
The first article on Comets is profound, and at the same 
time popular; that on the Heights of Mountains in 
Europe is the fullest account that has appeared in !ine- 
land, containing the measurements of 971 mountains, 
interspersed with remarks on the various groups ‘Phe 
most important statistical article is a very full abridye- 
ment of the Population Returns of all places containing 
not less than 3,000 inhabitants. The operations of the 
Reform Bill and the Boundaries’ Act are exhibited in 
connection with this view of the popuiation. A paper on 
the EasteIndia Company, and another on the Bank of 
Iingland, both founded upon parliamentary reports, 
contain a ereat deal of valuable information. 

The Abstracts of Acts of Parliament occupy nearly a 
fifth of the volume. ‘l’o many persons such matter may 
appezi dry and techuical, But it ought to be considered 
that such a publication as this offers, to the great body 


40 


of the people, the only means of acquiring a knowledge 
of the new laws which they are called upon toobey. The 
Reform Bill, that most important feature of the legis- 
lation of the last Parliament, is here given at considerable 
length, with all the schedules that are necessary to be 
known by electors either for the registry of their own 
claims, or for disputing the claims of others*. The 
abstract of Parliamentary Returns embrace a multitude of 
facts relating to finance and commerce. 

From the article entitled ‘ Brief Notices of the Progress 
of Public Improvements,’ we extract an account of a new 
suspension bridge at Leeds :— 

A suspension bridge of a somewhat novel construction has 
lately been erected at Hunslet near Leeds, which from its 
form, and in contradistinction to the chaz suspension bridges, 
may not inaptly be called the dow and string suspension 
bridge. It was executed from the designs and under the 
direction of Mr. George Leather, of Leeds, civil engineer. 
Instead of the chains—the usual means of suspension — two 
strong cast-iron arcs span over the whole space between the 
two abutments. These arcs spring from below the proposed 
level of the roadway, but rise, in their course, considerably 
above it, and from them the transverse beams which support 
be platform of the bridge are suspended by .malleable iron 
rods. a 

In the present instance, the suspending arch is 152 feet 
wide, spanning over the river Aire, and the towing or haul- 
ing path; and there is besides a small land arch of stone on 
each side. ! 

The footpaths are on the outside of the two suspending 
arcs, and the carriage-way passes between them. 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


[January 3], 1833, 


Each of the suspending ares 1s cast in six parts, and 
rowelled together; and the ends fit into cups cast upon the 
springing or foundation plates, forming a ball and socket 
joint. The cast-iron transverse beams which support the 
roadway are suspended at about every five feet. The road- 
way is of timber with iron guard plates on each side; and 
upon the top of the planking are also laid malleable iron 
bars ranging longitudinally for the wheel-tracks, and trans- 
versely for the horse-tracks. 

The foundations of the bridge rest upon bearing piles; 
and the total expense was about £4,200. We believe that 
this bridge is only the second of its kind, the Monk Bridge 
at Leeds‘, which was also executed from designs and under 
the direction of Mr. Leather, being the first. 

The following are the principal dimensions -— 

FEET. 
_ Space between the abutments, or span of the sus- 


pehding ares” 5. es ee 
Abutments with land arch, each 44 feet . . - . 88 
Total length of the bridge ie cao 

Width of the roadway *“ e© © © @ @ a. oe See 
Width of each footpath,7 feet “Se ys. SA 
2 otal width of the brigge lie 5 oo 


Height from the surface of the river to the’spring- 
ing of the suspending ares ees ST a. t. | O7 
Height from do. to the upper surface, or ex- 
' trados of the suspending ares. . 9. « »« «6 + 
Height from do. tosurfaceofroad. .. 
Height of upper surface of suspending arcs above 
tne surface of the road . 5 . seme e sls oe 


{Suspension Bridge over the River Aire, near Leeds. ] 


Rar gS tea 





y 
BN EES 
* C5653 











vata 7 SEeay<iscnum 2 Een x Tl lies ; ae 
Ga i a AA a 
es ie erage te eS 






ae oe 
ie 
i 


4 





The ‘ Companion is concluded with a double List of 
the new House of Commons; the first, arranged in the 
alphabetical order of places; the second, in that of 


Members’ names. ‘The publication of the work has 
been delayed a month for the completion of this 
document. 


* We take this opportunity of directing the public attention to a 
very valuable work, recently published, entitled ‘ Notes of Pro- 
ceedings in Courts of Revision, held in October and November, 
1832, before James Manning, Esq., Revising Barrister, with Expla- 
natory Remarks on the Reform Act. By Wilham M. Manning, Hisq.’ 
This, although it is, strictly speaking, a book tor lawyers, contains 
much information of the highest importance to all electors, and 
more especially to overseers and other persons concerned in the 
business of elections. The Revising Barrister’s decisions appear to 
have been given with the utmost care and deliberation. As his 
labours were confined to the county of the Isle of Wight and the 
borough of Newport, the limited extent of the voters afforded an 
opportunity of giving to the new questions: ot election law which 
arose, a fuller consideration than the penod prescribed for the 
revision would allow of in more extensive districts. The notes on the 
Reform Act, which are appended #0 the decisions, contain a great 
body of constitutional learning, and of practical directions for the 
legal construction of any doubtful clause in an enactment embracing 
so many novel as well as complicated particulars. 


+ The Monk Bridge, Leeds, was erected in the year 1827. Be- 
sides the suspension arch, which spans over the river Aire, there 
are two small land arches, and a 24-feet elliptical arch over the 
Leeds and Liverpool canal, which at this point is only about 90 
feet from the river. 


FEET. 
The total leneth of this bridgeis . . eh) 
Span of the suspension arch. 2 2 we ee OTD 
Wimieot the bridges < « w . we. 


Height from the surface of the river to the springing 
of the suspending arcs . 6 +6 © «© «© + 







I <1] 
Men Pra 
— at 


7%. 
: zg 
y 


< 
eR 


. hw th I Uaaaeee SAatgfed EPR ST aC ihe 
QA HOTT i SU sy oe, nn 






FEET. 
Height from do. to the top or extrados of the 
suspending arcs .. . . » aM 5 gm 
Weight from do. tothe surface of the road . 20 
Weight of upper surface of suspending ares above the 
surface of the road =. 2 SU 14 


The total cost, including the cana: bridge, &c., was about £4,800. 


== 





NOTICES. 

Ir was announced in the last Supplement that in future a 
double Supplement would be issued im those eight months 
of the year which only contained four Saturdays, so that 
each Monthly Part should comprise six sheets. In con- 
sequence, however, of many representations, both from in- 
dividual purchasers and the dealers in cheap works, that 
this additional charge to the buyers of the numbers would 
often prevent their regular purchase of the work as it comes 
out weekly, the Committee have thought it mght not to act 
upon this announcement; being reluctant to press heavily 
on the restricted means of many thousand purchasers of 
the Penny Magazine, who have few other opportunities of 
acquiring knowledge. The Publisher has undertaken that 
in future the Wrapper of the Parts shall be printed on a 
stronger paper, and that the sheets shall be stitched together 
in a neater and more durable manner, 


PENNY CYCLOPAEDIA. 


THERE Will be two Supplements published in February, to 
complete six Numbers in that month, viz, on the 13th 
and 27th.—Part I.1s now ready. 





- 





*,* Ihe Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 138 al 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Printed by Wittiam Crowes, Stamford Street, 





THE PENNY \ZINE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze. 





5 A. | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Fesruany 2, 1833, 








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[Statue of Niobe.] 


Niozz, the daughter of Tantalus, according to the | of the second century of our era, who was fond of old 
ancient story, was blessed with seven sons and as many | marvellous tales, tells us that on Sipylus, a mountain of 
daughters. In the pride of her heart she dared to | Asia Minor, he,saw this Niobe of stone. “ When you 
triumph over the goddess Leto or Latona, who had only | are near it,” says he, “it is nothing but a steep rock, 
two children, Apollo, and Artemis, called by the Romans bearing no resemblance at all to a woman, much less to 
Diana. To punish Niobe for her insolence, Apollo and | one weeping. But when you are at some distance, you 
Diana destroyed all her children with their arrows; and, | might imagine it to be the figure of a female weeping 
accordine to some stories, the wretched mother was | and in great distress.” 

turned into stone through grief, and even the solid rock The story of Niobe became a favourite subject for 


still continued to shed teats. Pausanias, a Greek writer | sculptors; and it is not improbable that there were once 
Vou. If. . ’ G 


42 


several eroups representing the mother and her children. 
Pliny speaks of one being in a temple of Apollo at 
Rome in his time :—* It 1s doubtful whether Scopas or 
Praxiteles made the dying Niobe and her children.” 

There is now extant a very large number of short Greek 
pieces.in verse, commonly called epigrams, though they 
do not properly mean epigrams in our sense of the word. 
They .are rather short pieces, such as would be appro- 
priate for inscriptions on temples, statues, &c., or merely 
such lines as we often see written in albums, or to com- 
memorate briefly some particular event, or to express 
concisely some sentiment; and they do not necessarily 
terminate with any pointed saying or witticism. Several 
of these epigrams refer to some figure or figures repre- 
senting Niobe, or Niobe and her children. One of 
them, in two lines, runs thus :-— 

“The Gods turned me while living into stone, but out 
of stone Praxiteles has restored me to life.” 

This was evidently intended to express the writer’s 
admiration of some piece of sculpture to which the chisel 
of Praxiteles had given a living and breathing form. 

But there is another longer inscription which alludes 
more particularly to some group of which the Niobe, 
now at Rome, seems to have been a part; or at least 
there can be little doubt that the following lines refer to 
a similar group :— 

‘* Daughter of Tantalus, Niobe, hear my words which 
are the messengers of woe; listen to the piteous tale of 
thy sorrows. Loose the bindings of thy hair, mother of 
arace of youths who have fallen beneath the deadly 
arrows of Phebus. Thy sons no longer live. But 
what is this? JI see something more. ‘The blood of thy 
daughters too is streaming around. One lies at her 
mother’s knees; another in her lap; a third on the 
earth ; and one clings to the breast: one gazes stupified 
at the coming blow, and one crouches down to avoid the 
arrow, while another still lives. But the mother, whose 
tongue once knew no restraint, stands like a statue, 
hardened into stone.” 

Among the various figures still extant, which are sup- 
posed to belong to the group of the Niobe, it is not easy 
to say which are genuine parts of the whole, and which 
awe not. It seems probable that the mother with one 
4 her daughters formed the centre, and that other 
‘Agures were arranged on each side. It has further been 
conjectured that the whole occupied the tympanum or 
pediment of a temple, as the great figures of tlie Theseus, 
Ilissus, &c., in the Elgin collection, decorated the pedi- 
ment of Minerva’s temple at Athens. One critic has 
gone so far as to deny the possibility of the group of 
Niobe and her daughters having been placed in the pedi- 
ment of a temple, because there would be no room for 
the angry deities whose arrows are piercing the children 
of Niobe; as if the whole impression produced was not 
infinitely greater, because the angry deities are unseen. 
The fact is, that to any one who knew the story of 
Niobe, the mere sight of the complete group would tell 
the tale at once:—‘“ That they are the sons and 
daughters of Niobe, who, in the bosom of their mother, 
or near:her, sink beneath the arrows of the deities, or 
try to escape from them, we see by asingle glance at 
this group of figures, who are in various attitudes—fallen, 
falling, flying, or trying to hide themselves, full of anguish 
and despair; while the colossal figure of the mother stands 
in the midst, expressive of the deepest agony *.” 





WANDERING ITALIANS. 


Tus attention of most of our readers must have been 

excited by the poor Italian boys that frequent our streets, 

selling images, playing organs, or exhibiting monkeys, 

land tortoises, and white mice. This numerous class is 

found, and generally in greater numbers than with us, 
* Thiersch, p. 316, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Fesruary 2, 


in France, in Germany, even in Russia, and in other 
continental countries. They are not less remarkable on 
account of their dark expressive countenances, and pic- 
{uresque appearance, than from their quiet, inoffensive 
conduct. It is very rare to find in any one of the many 
coulitries to which these wanderers repair, a single proof - 
of a crime or serious offence of any kind committed. by 
them. This is a circumstance the more to be wondered - 
at, as they for the most part leave their homes in very 
tender years, and are frequently exposed to the privations 
and temptations of extreme poverty. ‘Those among 
them who are venders of images, by selling for a few 
pence the plaster busts of great men and casts from 
ancient works of art, may pretend to the dignity of 
traders, and even have the merit of improving and pro- 
pagating a taste for the fine arts; while those who exhibit 
the different animals may awaken an interest for natural 
history, by showing the docility of those creatures who 
have learnt obedience to man. As a body, if they are to 
be held as vagrants, they must be considered as the most 
inoffensive and amusing of vagrants. 

The venders of images come almost without an excep- 
tion from the territory of Lucca, in Tuscany, not many 
miles from Florence. ‘The way in which their companies 
are formed is this :—QOne, or sometimes two men, who 
possess the art of casting figures in moulds, propose a 
campaign; and having collected a number of poor boys, 
of whom they become the captains, leave their native 
valley and cross the Apennines and the Alps, marching 
in a little corps of ten, twelve, or fifteen. The writer of 
this account once walked over the Alps by the road of 
Mount Cenis, with a company of this sort, from whose 
chief he learned many particulars as to the modes 
of their proceeding. ‘Their moulds or forms, with a few 
tools, had been despatched before them by the waggon 
to Cllambery, the capital city of Savoy, where they pro 
posed to make their first sojourn. ‘They find the plaster 
and other simple materials requisite for the formation 
of their figures, in nearly every large town to which they 
vo; and they never fix their quarters for any length of 
time, except in large towns. On arriving, therefore, at 
Chambery, the artist, or the principal of this company, 
having received his moulds, would set to work, despatch- 
ing the boys who were with him through the city and 
the little towus and villages in the neighbourhood, to sell 
the figures which he could rapidly make. When the 
distance permitted, these boys would return at night 
with the fruits of the day’s sale to their master, who 
lodged and fed them; but it would often happen, when 
they took a wider range among the mountaius and valleys 
of Savoy, that they would be absent for several days, 
under which circumstances they would themselves pur- 
chase their cheap food and shelter out of the money they 
might obtain for the goods they disposed of. When the 
market became languid in and about Chambery; the 
master would pack off his moulds and tools for Geneva, 
and follow them on foot with his little troop, each of 
whom would carry some few figures to sell at the towns 
and villages on the road to that city. At Geneva, he 
would do as he had done at Chambery; and whien that 
neiehbourhood was supposed to be supplied, he would 
transfer himself and his assistants in the same way to 
some other place. About nine months after passing the 
Alps with him, the narrator found his old fellow-traveller, 
the image-maker, at Fontainebleau, in the forest of that 
name. He was busily at work, with only two boys in 
the town with him; the rest being scattered about the 
country. By this time he had crossed the Jura moun- 
tains, traversed the greater part of France, and was on 
the point of going to Paris, whence he intended to work 
his way, by Amiens and Calais, to :ngland, where he 
promised himself a golden harvest. His brother, who 
had been absent from home several years, was with a 


| corps similarly constituted, exploring the less populous 


1883.] 


srovinces of Russia. This man himself had already 
deen into Germany as far as Leipsic. He was intelligent, 
industrious in his way, exceedingly sober, and well 
behaved*, and spoke very good Italian, as indeed did 
all his boys, being Tuscans born. ‘lhe image venders, 
indeed, are, as we had said, nearly without an exception, 
natives of Tuscany, where even the poorest of the people 
speak a graceful and pure language. ‘The rest of the 
wandering Itahans use different gatots, or dialects, 
according to the places from which they ccme, and are 
scarcely to be understood by the Itahan scholar who has 
not lived among them. 

After the Lucchesi, or natives of Lucca, these itine- 
rants may be classed generally under two heads—moun- 
taineers from the Apennines, and mountaineers from the 
Italian ridges and valleys of the Alps. Lower Italy, or 
the kingdom of Naples, the states of Home, and those 
of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, rarely send forth any of 
these emigrants; but we find these troops formed in 
oreat numbers, going on towards Lombardy, in the 
states of Parma, A great part of this terntory, which 
is now allotted to Maria Louisa, the widow of Napoleon 
Bonaparte, is occupied by the rude Apeniines, where 
the poverty of the soil and the severity of the climate are 
such as are hardly expected to exist in Italy. On the 
northern side of these mountains the corn, scantily sown, 
is not ripe till September ; and frequently, even when it 
has escaped the effect of the heavy rains and torrents, 
which occasionally wash away the soil and the ridges 
and walls which they are obliged to build on the decii- 
vities to retain it, the grain never comes to healthful 
maturity. In some seasons the rush of waters down the 
precipitous sides of these mountains is so tremendous 
that the terraces are destroyed and the soil washed away 
to the bare rock. At other times hurricanes whirl the 
earth and its produce into the air. In both cases, years 
of labour and ingenuity, to render their mountainous 
territory susceptible of cultivation, are destroyed, and 
families and whole districts are reduced to extreme 
misery. ‘The other scanty resources of these poor pea- 
sants of the Apennines are a produce of chesnuts, and 
the cutting of wood, which as they have no roads to 
iransport it by, is employed almost wholly for purposes of 
fuel and charcoal. Some favoured individuals possess 
a few flocks of sheep in the lower, and of goats in the 
upper, parts of the mountains. 

Yo procure, therefore, that subsistence which their 
own country does not afford, these people emigrate in 
various directions, and in the exercise of various callings. 
The emigrations of most of them are very temporary ; 
and it may be mentioned here, that, rude as is their 
home, even. those who emigrate for longer periods of 
time invariably propose to return to it, as soon as they 
shall have made some money. A curious fact is, that 
each district has, and has had for many cenerations, its 
peculiar professions and line of emigration, never inter- 
fering with those of another district. From the wild 
tract of country (a length of nearly thirty Enelish miles), 
which from the town of Berceto extends along the ridge 
of the Apennines to the western side of the Duchy of 
Modena, the male population go to the island of Corsica, 
where they employ themselves as agricultural labourers 
and wood-cutters. On account of the distance some of 
these stay away two or three years at a time. In the 
tract immediately beneath this, the men repair every 
year to labour in the corn-fields in the unhealthy and 
almost pestilential saremme, or marshes of ‘Tuscany, 
_ ™ During the jealousies and deadly hatred that distracted Italy 
in the middie ages, and prepared the servitude and misery of that 
beautiful country, the Lucchesi obtained a very bad name; and it is 
curious to observe how loag the recollection of this has lasted among 
the people, for to this day, a man of Lucca, if asked where he comes 

from, always replies, “Vi sono de’ buoni, e de’ cattivi dappertutto— 


gone Lucchese per servirla,”’ or, “There are good and bad people 
every where. {am a Lucchese at your service }”’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


| were Rossi of Compiano’s men. 


43 


whence many of them are sure to return with mal-aria 
fevers. ‘The sobriety, the abstemiousness of these men— 
the privations to which they submit to save a little 
money—the wonderfully little on which they live, fill an 
Englishman with astonishment. Their sole object is to 
return home with their savings; to add to the sum of 
which, both those from Corsica and those from ‘Tuscany, 
occasionally addict themselves to a little sly or contraband 
trade. ‘The articles they import are chiefly salé and 
gunpowder—articles which the petty governments of 
Italy have, in their wisdom, thought fit to monopolize. 
Lhe articles which they export into Tuscany are chiefly 
rags for the manufacture of paper, which export, by the 
sume wisdom, the government of Parma prohibits or 
loads with tremendous duties, in order to encourage the 
paper manufactories of its own states. In these smug- 
gling operations, whose full success can only give them 
each a few shillings of profit, the poor peasants undergo 
the greatest hardships and dangers; for to avoid the 
lines of frontiers and custom-houses, and all those who 
might interfere with their trade, they gain their homes 
by traversing the wild and deep ravines, and the loftiest 
and least frequented crests of the Apennines, where they 
are occasionally buried in the snow or carried away by 
the whirlwind, and still more frequently detained whole 
days in some savage, isolated spot, by the inclemencies 
of the climate. 

The districts of Borgo Val di Taro, the villages of 
Bardi, Compiano, Bedonia, &c. still in the Duchy of 
Parma, and on the Apennines between Parma and 
Genoa, have considerably more resources and more pro- 
ductive lands than those we have: described. Here 
indeed we find well cultivated farms, rich pastures, and 
an appearance of comparative prosperity ; but still the 
means are insufficient to the support of the population ; 
they consequently emigrate in great numbers. These 
districts, indeed, furnish many of those wandering Italian 
boys that we see about our streets, to whom we par- 
ticularly alluded at the opening of this little account. 

Soine of those who wander from home with animals 
engage themselves in England and other countries, in 
the service of the proprietors of menageries. One of the 
sufferers, from the fury of the celebrated elephant in 
Exeter Change a few years ago, was a native of Com- 
piano, who had his mbs broken by the trunk of the 
maddened quadruped. But by far the greatest number 
in this profession perambulate on their own account, 
with monkeys, dogs, bears, camels, and hyznas. © Those 
of them who come to Eneland generally confine them- 
selves to monkeys, probably on account of the difficulty 
and expense of the voyage. ‘The extreme poverty in 
which these people are when they prepare for a first 
emigration, puts it out of their power to provide these 
animals themselves. There are, therefore, certain men 
who have made money in the calling, and no longer 
wander themselves, whom they call proveditor or pro- 
viders, and these sell, or let out to them on certain cou- 
ditions, the creatures which the emigrants are in need of. 
And here also frequently occnrs a curious co-operation 
of capital and labour; four of these poor fellows will buy 
one bear among them, and hold the property on the 
tenure of what they call “a paw a-piece’ (una zampa 
per uno). ‘Pwo of them leading it from one country to 
another, and showing it together, divide the profits 
equally, and then save or remit given proportions of the 
profits to the two proprietors at home. One of their 
proveditori, a certain Rossi of Compiano, is now a man 
of much substance, with considerable landed property in 
the Apennines. He is the greatest speculator in his tive, 
frequently importing lus animals direct from Africa. 
On the Continent, a few years since, if you asked any of 
these itinerants whence they came, and who had pro- 
vided them, you were pretty sure to be told that they 
In their native moun- 


G 2 


44 


tains, if you inquire of their families or their wives, 
whom they always leave at home, where an absent rela- 
tive or husband is, the almost infallible answer is, in 
their dialect, “E ped mondo cd a commedia,” in good 
Italian, “i pel mondo con la commedia,” or in English, 
** He is wandering about the world with the comedi ys? 
These simple people ¢ vive the elevated name of comedy 
to the gambols of monkeys and the dancing of bears. 
Besides dancing: bears, these itinerants from Compiano, 
Bedonia, and Bardi had dancing: cocks, which we do not 
remember ever to have seen with them in England, and 
of late years, only rarely with them on thie Continent. 
The way in which they taught this courageous bird to 
dance was this: They took a flag-stone surrounded by 
hich rims of stone or clay, or a large round earthen pan 
with a flat bottom, and placed it over a small slow fire; 
then, having cut or secured the cock’s wings, and pro- 
tected his feet and spurs by a piece of cloth on either 
lex, they put hin down on the confined arena from 
which he could not escape, and while one man played a 
lively tune on some instrnment, another blew the fire 
under the pan or stone. As soon as the cock felt the 
heat under his feet he naturally began to lift them up ; 
and this he did quicker and quicker as the heat increased, 
until the rapidity of their motion represented a dance. 
It was not necessary often to repeat this cruel lesson, for 
after two or three rehearsals of this sort, the cock, 
wherever he night be placed, would begin to lift up his 
legs or dance as soon as the music, which had formerly 
been an accompaniment to his sufferings, began to play. 
The more troublesome or more dangerous bear received 
his rudiments in much the same manner. His fore-lees 
were left in their natural state, and his hind ones were 
protected by a sort of leather boot or sandal. He was 
then put upon a heated flag-stone, when he naturally 
raised his fore-paws in the air, and then moved his hind- 
legs up and down to avoid the heat. 

The most interesting trait in the character of these 
inoffensive wanderers is their never-failing attachment 
to their mountain homes. Go where they will, let thein 
be as fortunate as they may, they rarely or never think of 
a permanent settlement, but look back to Italy and the 
Apennines as the place of their rest. The object of all their 
toils and travels, their great and their sole ambition, is 
to become the owners of a house and a little bit of land, 
if not on the precise spot, at least in the immediate 
neighbourhood of the villages in the mountains where 
they were born. In the natural course of things, many 
never attain the desired woal; some of the wanderers fall 
far from home, victims to the severity of the climate as in 
Russia, or to its unhealthiness in other places; some are 
unfortunate in their animals, or in the tracts of country 
they may have chosen to explore : some, though very few, 
are improvident, and die abroad in wretchedness, or re- 
turn home as indigent as they first set forth. But still, 
there are continually instances, after years of wandering, 
of these inen returning to their native villages in the 
possession of a comfortable independence. It may be 
conceived, that from the poverty of the country and their 
huinble notions and way of living, a small sum of money 
will suffice for this independence. ‘The first thing they 
do under these fortunate circumstances is to purchase a 
piece of ground where they erect a little house; and the 
few toreign travellers who have visited this particnlar 
mountainous district, must have observed and admired 
that their houses are built in a better style than the 
rugyved cottages of their nei¢hbours, and that notions of 
snugness, domestic comfort, and cleanliness have been 
imitated from Eneland, Germany, and other distant 
countries im which the poor itinerants have lived. ‘The 
returned wanderers become the oracles of their neigh- 
bournood, ‘They can talk of foreign countries, 
cities, and habits of life, and relate all the adventures 
they encountered on their travels. The fame and the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ane | 


[Icpruary 2, 


magnificence of London, and: much that is glorious 
and oood in us as a nation, as far as it could impress the 
Linaikeas uncultivated faculties of such persons, have been 
thus sounded from one end to the other of the moun- 
tains in the Duchy of Parma. 





[ Portrait of an Italian exhibiting in London.] 


Utiliity—That useful knowledge should receive our first 
and chief care, we mean not to dispute. But in our views of 
utility, we may differ from some who take this position. 
There are those who confine this term to the necessaries and 
comforts of life, and to the means of producing them. And 
is it true, that we need no knowledge, but that which clothes 
and feeds us? Is it true, that all studies may be dispensed 
with, but such as teach us to act on matter, and to turn It to 
our use? Happily, human nature is too stubborn to yield 
to this narrow utility. It is interesting to observe how 
the very nechanical arts, which are especially designed to 
minister to the necessities and comforts of life, are per- 
petually passing these limits; how they disdain to stop at 
mere convenience. A large and increasing proportion of 
mechanical labour is given to the gratification of an elegant 
taste. How simple would be the art of building, if it Himited 
itself to the construction of a comfortable shelter. How 
many ships should we dismantle, and how many busy trades 
put to rest, were dress and furniture reduced to the standard 
of convenience. This “utility” would work great changes 
in town and country, would level to the dust the wonders of 
architecture, would annihilate the fine arts, and blot out 
innumerable beauties, which the hand of taste has spread 
over the face of the earth. Happily, human nature is too 
strong for the utilitarian. It cannot satisfy itself with the 
convenient. No passion unfolds itself sooner than the Jove 
of the ornamental. The savage decorates his person, and 
the child is more struck with the beauty, than the uses cf 
its rament. So far from limiting ourselves to convenient 
food and raiment, we enjoy but little a repast which is not 
arranged with some degree of order and taste; and a man 
who shculd consult comfort alone in his wardrobe, would 
find himself an unwelcome guest in circles which he would 
very reluctantly forego. We are aware that the propensity 
to which we have referred, often breaks out in extravagance 
and ruinous luxury. We know that the love of or nament is 
often vitiated by vanity, and that, when so perverted, it 
impairs, sometimes destroys, the soundness and simplicity of 
the mind, and the relish for true glory. Still, it teaches, 


even in its excesses, that the idea of beauty is an indestruc- 


tible principle of our nature, and this single truth is enough 
to put us on our guard against vulgar notions of utility.— 
WE. Channing . D. ©On the Importance and Meuns of 
a National Literature.’ 





Legal Age-—The law of England not making portions of 
a day, except in cases in which it becomes necessary to ascer- 
tain the priority of distinct events occurring on the same 
day, as the execution of several deeds, &c., a person is of full 
age who has lived during some part of every day necessary 
to constitute a period of twenty-one years. Thus a person 
born at eleven o'clock at night on the 1st of January, will be 
of age immediately after the midnight between the 30th and 
31st of December, although he will then want forty-seven 
hours of completing twenty-one years— Manning's Proceea- 
ings in Courts of Revision. 


1833.) 


THE DOGS OF ST. BERNARD. 


[From the Menageries, vol, I.] 





Tue convent of the Great St. Bernard is situated near 
the top of the mountain known by that name, near 
one of the most dangerous passages of the Alps, between 
Switzerland and Savoy. In these regions the traveller 
is often overtaken by the most severe weather, even 
after days of cloudless beauty, when the glaciers glitter 
‘in the sunshine, and the pink flowers of the rhododen- 
dron appear as if they were never to be sullied by the 
tempest. But a storm suddenly comes on, the roads 
: are rendered impassable by drifts of snow; the ava- 
- Janches, which are huge loosened masses of snow or Ice, 
are swept into the valleys, carrying trees and crags of 
rock before them. The hospitable monks, though their 
revenue is scanty, open their doors to every stranger 
‘that presents himself. To be cold, to be weary, to be 
benighted, constitute the title to their comfortable shel- 
‘ter, their cheering meal, and their agreeable converse. 
“But their attention to the distressed does not end here. 
They devote themselves to the dangerous task of search- 
ing for those unhappy persons who may have been 
overtaken by the sudden storm, and would perish but 
for their charitable succour. -Most remarkably are they 
‘assisted in these truly Christian offices. They have a 
breed of noble dogs in their establishment, whose extra- 
ordinary sagacity often enables them to rescue the 
traveller from destruction. Benumbed with cold, weary 
in the search for a lost track, his senses yielding to the 
‘stupifying influence of frost, which betrays the ex- 
‘hausted sufferer into a deep sleep, the unhappy man 
sinks upon the ground, and the snow-drift covers him 
from human sight. It is then that the keen scent and 
the exquisite docility of these admirable dogs are called 
into action. ‘Though the perishing man lie ten or even 
twenty feet beneath the snow, the delicacy of smell 
with which they can trace hin offers a chance of escape. 
They scratch away the snow with their feet; they set 
up a continued hoarse and solemn bark, which brings 
the monks and labourers of the convent to their assist- 
ance. ‘fo provide for the chance that the dogs, without 
human help, may succeed in discovering the - unfortu- 
nate traveller, one of them has a flask of spirits round 
his neck, to which the fainting man may apply for sup- 
pert ;* and another has a cloak to cover him. ‘These 
wonderful exertions are often successful; and even 
where they fail of restoring him who has perished, the 
dogs discover the body, so that it may be secured for 
‘the recognition of friends; and such is the effect of the 
temperature, that the dead features generally preserve 
their firmness for the space of two years. One of these 
noble creatures was decorated with a medal, In coin- 
memoration of his having saved the lives of twenty-two 
persons, who, but for his sagacity, must have perished. 
‘Many travellers who have crossed the passage of St. 
Bernard, since the peace, have seen this dog, and have 
heard, around the blazing fire of the monks, the story 


of bis extraordinary career. He died about the year 1516, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


45 


in an attempt to convey a poor traveller to his anxious 
fainily. The Piedmontese courier arrived at St. Ber- 
nard in a very stormy season, labouring to make his 
way to the little village of St. Pierre,-in the valle 
beneath the mountain, where his wife and children 
dwelt. It was in vain that the monks attempted to 
check his resolution to reach his family. They at last 
gave him two guides, each of whom was accompanied 
by a dog, of which one was the remarkable creature 
whose services had been so valuable to mankind. De- 
scending from the convent, they were in an instant over- 
whelmed by two avalanches; and the same cominon 
destruction awaited the family of the poor conrier, who 
were toiling up the mountain in the hope to obtain some » 
news of their expected friend. ‘They all perished. 

A story is told of one of these dogs, who, having 
found a child unhurt whose mother had been destroyed 
by an avalanche, induced the poor boy to mount upon his 
back, and thus carried him to the gate of the convent. 
The subject is represented in a French print, which we 
have copied. 


ON THE PRONUNCIATION OF HARD WORDS. 


Ir is often a subject of embarrassmeut to many well- 
informed persons, that they feel themselves unable to 
pronounce certain hard words, according to what is es- 
teemed the correct way. Hence it may happen that in 
reading or conversation they may sometimes expose 
themselves to the ridicule of persons much more ignorant 
than themselves, who, however, possess the advantage 
of being thought able to pronounce hard words in the 
orthodox fashion. Ridicule and sneers are indeed .pow- 
erful weapons, even in the hands of a fool ; and the wisest 
men are sometimes @lad to escape from an adversary, who 
is only invincible because he has not sense enough to 
know when he is beaten. ‘Though we inust allow that 
it is very useful to have a certain fixed way of pro- 
nonncing words, just as it is useful to have certain fixed 
names for things, we shall endeavour to show, for the 
benefit of those who feel apprehensive about mispro- 
nouncing a word, that there are very few, if any, who 
can altogether avoid such errors; that the standard 
of right pronunciation is sometimes very difficult to fix, 
and also very difficult to express to the eye; and that, in 
a very great number of cases, it Is of no importance at 
all in which way a word is pronounced. We shall also 
vive a few rules, that may be cf use to some of our 
readers. 

The class of words that causes most difficulty to 
readers, consists (1) of Greek and Roman names of per- 
sons and places, or (2) of terms in natural history, 
architecture, mineralogy, &c., which are compounded of 
Greek and Latin words. As for real Latin, or French, 
or German words which may be occasionally introduced 
into a work, either when we give the title of a book, 
or in any other case where it is necessary, the truth js, 
that not one man in fifty will pronounce them a/é right, 
and no mau can pronounce them right unless he is 
acquainted with the languages to which each foreign 
word belongs. Ifa person then mspronounces a word 
of this class, it only shows that he has not had the opper- 
tunity of learning the foreion language ; which can 
hardly be made a subject of reproach, especially to those 
wwhose means are limited. We shall now speak more 
particularly of the jfirsé class of words, comprehending 
real Greek and Roman names, which must necessarily 
often occur in the Penny Cyclopz:iia. 

'Ehere are two things to be observed in pronouncing a 
word. One is the sound which we give to each letter, 
or rather to each syllable ; and the second is the stress 
or emphasis by which some particular syllable is distin- 
euished from the rest. ‘Thus, in the words dAdbdera, 
abdomen, which occur in No. 2, the reader cannot fail 
to pronounce them right, if he only lays the emphasis 


46 


on the second syllable. The word abdomen, used to 
cesignate a particular part of the body, is almost become 
a part of our langnage; yet it is a real Latin word, and 
according to the principles of that language should be 
pronounced, as we have marked it, abdomen. Some, 
however, must have heard many very excellent medi- 
cal men pronounce the word, dbdomen. We merely 
mention this to show that persons who have spent 
much money on their education, cannot always avoid 
even the most trifling error. Occasionally we hear from 
the pulpit Thessaldnica instead of Thessalonica, the 
name of a town in Macedonia, which occurs in the Acts 
of the Apostles. Owing to a mistake, the accent was 
omitted in Abdéra and abdomen in the first impressious 
of No. 2 of the Cyclopedia; but this 1s low corrected, 
and we shall always, whenever a real Greek or Latin name 
occurs at the head of an article, mark with an accent 
tlius (‘), the syllable, which is to be distinguished from 
the rest in the pronunciation. Such words as Archi- 
médes, Apollodorus, Apollonius, Aristomenes, may serve 
as examples. It should be remarked, that m such a 
word as Archimedes, the accent whichis placed on the 
third syllable shows that it is to be pronounced distinct 
from the following—A?r-chi-meéd-es, not Ar-chi-médes ; 
in like manner Arist-0m-en-es, not Arist-om-enes. 

A great number of Greek proper names end in ws, pre- 
ceded by a vowel: Mene-ld-us, Agesi-ld-us, E’richtho- 
ni-us, Dari-us, &c.; andin all these cases the vowel which 
precedes ws, forms a separate syllable. The accent shows 
whether we must lay the clnef stress on the vowel preced- 
ing’ ws, or on some syllable further from the end of the 
word. It will be observed that in three of the instances 
which we have just given, each word, owing: to its length, 
has a double accent, which is the case in such Iinglish 
words as contémpordneous, insurmountable. Many 
Greek names of towns end in 2@ (two syllables), as Sa- 
maria, Philadelphia. 'The reader will see that we have 
marked these words to be pronounced with the emphasis 
on the last syllable but one—Philadelphia, not Philadel- 
phia, &c., and this is quite correct. Yet the practice in our 
churches is to pronounce these words with the accent on 
the last syllable but two; and it would not, perhaps, be 
thought a proof of very good sense, if the clergy were to 
introduce that mode of promuinciation, which most of 
them know to be correct. Usage has so entirely got 
the better of the correct practice, that it wonld be con- 
sidered only foolish pedantry to say, Philadelphia. 

Many persons pride themselves on a little knowledge 
of Latin and Greek, and are very apt to assume a 
superiority over those who know nothing of these 
ancient languages. But it is a fact that ought to be 

listinctly asserted, because it is undeniable, that not 
one tithe of those who study these languages ever 
really learn them well; nor are they competent judges 
of what is right or wrong in the pronunciation of Greek 
and Roman names. Even in our great schools, where 
so much attention is paid to what they call prosody, or 
“the art of pronouncing Greek. and Latin words cor- 
rectly,’ many modes of pronunciation are established 
by usage, which no sound critic can approve. 

The other difficulty that remains as to Greek and 
Roman words is,—how are the vowels and consonants to 
be pronounced? In England, we pronounce the vowels 
just as we do in our own language; and, in such words 
as Demosthenes, Cicero, AS’schines, no mistake can pos- 
sibly be made. Bunt though this practice may be called 
right as far as the usage of this country is concerned, 
it is not certain that in all instances it is the real ancient 
pronunciation, and indeed, in some cases, it is certain 
that itis not. The Germans pronounce tlie @v in such 
words as Paulus, just as we pronounce ov in house, and 
in doing this they follow the practice of their own 
language. 
by us just like ein fever: examples, Celius, Cesar: 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


CZ and At in Latin words are pronounced | 


[Fepruary 2, 


sometimes @ at the beginning of a word is pronounced 
like a short e. ‘The consonants present but few difficul- 
ties, if the reader only wishes to know what is the 
established mode of pronunciation in this country, and 
does not inquire- what was probably the ancient mode. 
C is pronounced like s before e, 2, @, @, as in Cicero, 
Cesaréa, Ceclius; and in all other cases like & G is 
generally pronounced like 7 before e, 7, @, @, as Gemini, 
&c.: in other cases it is pronounced like g in gander. 
Ch is always pronounced like our k, as in Achea, 
Archons, Archimédes, Aischines. JI at the beginning 
of all Greek names or words, such as Homer, Hesiod, 
heretic, &c. should always be strongly pronounced, and 
not half suppressed as is the common practice in the 
metropolis and some other parts of England, even 
among many of the educated. | 


(To be continued. | 





EXECUTION OF MARY STUART. 


Tue 8th of February, 1587, is memorable as the day of 
the execution of Mary Queen of Scots, in the great hall 
of I’otheringay Castle, in Northamptonshire. ‘The out- 
lines of the history of this unfortunate princess are so 
generally familiar, that we shall here only recapitulate 
a few dates, in order to place its course the more clearly 
before the mind of the reader. She was the daughter 
of King James V. of Scotland, by his second wife, 
Mary of Lorraine, sister of the Duke of Guise, and 
widow of Louis of Orleans, Duke of Longueville; and 
she was born at the Palace of Linlithgow, on the 7th of 
December, 1542. On the 14th, by the death of her 
father, she became Queen of Scotland in her own right. 
On the 21st of August following she was crowned at 

tirling. dcven before this an active contest had com- 
menced between Henry VIII. of England and his par- 
tizans on the one hand, to procure the young sovereign 
in marriage for Ins son Edward; and the Queen Mother, 
Cardinal Beaton, and their faction on the other, to pre- 
serve her for a lrench, or other continental alliance. To 
protect her from Henry’s attempts to obtain possession 
of her person, she was soon after removed by her 
mother, from Stirling to a monastery, situated on an 
island in the Loch of Menteith. In this asylum she re- 
mained till the year 1548, when it was resolved to send 
her to France; the fatal result of the battle of Mussel- 
burgh (or Pinkie), fought on the 10th of September 
preceding between the Regent Arran and the Protector 
Somerset, having excited a stronger fear than ever of 
her falling into the hands of the English, should she 
remain in the country. Accordingly, having been 
brought for that purpose to Dunbarton Castle, she em- 
barked on the Clyde, and arrived safely at Brest on the 
13th of August. At the court of France she received a 
careful education, not only in all ihe accomplishments, 
but in all the learning of that age; and the fine 2apacity 
with which she was gifted py nature enabled her to 
make the happiest return to the efforts of her instruetors, 
On the 24th of April, 1558, she was united in mayriage 
to the Dauphin, afterwards Franeis IT., the prince being 
a few months younger than herself. The death of her — 
father-in-law, Henry IL, on the 10th of July, 1559, 
raised her to the throne of I’rance; but she only enjoyed 
her elevation for about a year and a half, her husband 
dying on the 5th December, 1560. Uaving also lost her 
mother, who had hitherto acted as regent in Scotland, 
on the 10th of June preceding, and the affairs of that 
country having fallen into ereat confusion, Mary now 
determined to return to her hereditary dominions ; and 
with that view she embarked at Calais on the 5th of 
August, 1561, and, after a voyage of five days, landed in 
salety at Leith, having escaped the English fleet in a 
fog. On the 29th of July, 1565, she married her rela- 


| tion Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, the son of the Earl of 


1833.] 


Lennox, and, through the countess, his mother, the 
erandson of Margaret, daughter of Henry VII. of Ene- 
land, from whom Mary herself was also descended in 
the same degree. It was in virtne of this descent that 
she claimed during the life of Elizabeth to be considered 
the heir presumptive to the English crown. That 
crown actually devolved eventually upon her son James 
VI. ‘The assassination, in her presence, of her Italian 
secretary David Rizzio (or more properly Riccio), by 
Lord Ruthven and other conspirators, instigated by her 
husband, took place at Holyrood House on the 9th of 
March, 1566. On the 19th of June following she 
eave birth to a son, afterwards James VI. ‘On the 
{Oth of February, 1567, Darnley was killed by the 
blowing up of the house called Kirk of Field, in the 
vicinity of Edinburgh, where he lay ill,—an ‘event 
which was unquestionably the result of design, whoever 
were the oulty parties. On the 15th of May, Mary 
became once more a wife, by giving her hand to the 
Earl of Bothwell, the man who was universally accused 
of having been the contriver of the murder of her late 
husband, and who indeed may be said to have been 
since proved to have been the author of that crime. We 
are not perhaps warranted to conchule, as some writers 
appear to have been inclined to do, from this act alone, 
taking all circumstances into consideration, either that 
Mary herself had been a party to the murder, or even 
that she was cognizant of Bothwell’s guilt; but it 
seems impossible to acquit her of a most indecorous and 
profligate indifference as to whether he was guilty or 
no. fler imprudent conduct, to call it by no harsher 
name, brought its punishment after it, in a life hence- 
forth of almost unmixed trouble and sorrow. She was 
soon after shut up by her insurgent subjects in the 
Castle of Loch Leven, where she was compelled on the 
24th of June to sign a renunciation of her crown in 
favour of her infant son. From this imprisonment she 
made her escape on the 2d of May, 1568, and fled 
to Hamilton Castle, in Lanarkshire, where she was 
soon joined by some thousands of her adherents. But 
the result of the battle of Langside, fought on the 13th, 
i which her forces were completely defeated by the 
Regent Murray, suddenly left her again a helpless 
fugitive. After concealing herself for a few days in the 
house of Lord Herries in Galloway, she took boat at 
Kirkcudbright on the 16th, and putting across the 
Solway lauded at Workington in Cumberland. She 
hever again set foot on the soil of her native country. 
Queen Elizabeth, who, from their relative political 
position and certain feelings of a more private nature, 
was her rival and her irreconcilable enemy, had now 
got her victim within her grasp, and was not the woman 
to permit her again to escape. Mary had arrived in 
the Inelish territory in a state of nearly entire destitu- 
tion, without a shilling in her pocket, or an article of 
dress except what she wore on her person. After a few 
days she was conducted by Elizabeth’s order to Carlisle, 
from whence, on the 16th of June, she was renmioved to 
Bolton Castle, the house of Lord Scroop, Warden of the 
West Marches. The honours due to her reval rank were 
at the same time punctiliously paid to her. Here she 
remained till the beginning of the next year, when she was 
transferred to ‘utbury Castle in Staffordshire, and com- 
mitted to the custody of the Earl of Shrewsbury. This 
continued to be her principal place of confinement during 
the remainder of her life, although she spent some short 
periods at Whinfield in Derbyshire, at Chatsworth in the 
same county, at Coventry, at Sheffield, and other places. 
In 1584 the Earl of Shrewsbury was succeeded in the 
office of her eaoler by Sir Drew Drury and Sir Amias 
Powlet. ‘There seems to be conclusive evidence that 
Kilizabeth, throuch her ministers, Walsingham and Davi- 
son, proposed in almost direct terms to these persous 
to find out some way to shorten the life” of their pri- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


5} 
Lor warfant. 


AT 


soner. They however firmly declined to act upon this 
atrocions suggestion. ‘ My answer,’ wrote Sir Amias 
Powlet, “I shall deliver unto you with great grief and 
bitterness of mind, in that I am so unhappy as living to 
see this unhappy day, in which [am required, by direc- 
tion from my most gracious sovereign to do an act 
which God and the law forbiddeth. God forbid I should 
make so foul a wreck of my conscience, or leave so great 
a blot to my poor posterity, and shed blood without law 
Tt was then resolved to destroy the unfor- 
tunate Queen under the forms of law. In 1585 the Par- 
liament passed an Act declaring that whosoever “ should 
endeavour to raise a rebellion in the kingdom, or attempt 
the Queen’s life, or claimed any right to the crown of 
England,” should be tried by a commission appointed by 
the Queen, and, if found guilty, put to death. It was 
well understood by every body, at the time, that this Act 
was expressly levelled against the Queen of Scots. Ac- 
cordingly, after her papers had been seized and she had 
been removed to Fotheringay Castle, on the 25th of Sep- 
tember, 1586, forty-two commissioners, with five judges 
of the realm, were appointed by letters patent under the 
creat seal, on the authority of this Act, to meet at the 
latter place, to try her on the charge of having been a 
party to the conspiracy of Antony Babington and _ his 
confederates, who, to the number of fourteen, had just 
been executed for a plot against the Queen’s life. Thirty- 
six of the commissioners assembled on the Lith of Octo- 
ber, and after various adjournments, pronounced sen- 
tence on the 25th, in the Star Chamber at Westminster, 
against the accused. ‘This trial exhibited perhaps as ex- 
traordinary an accumulation of substantial injustice and 
oppression as was ever witnessed. It was the fit con- 
clusion of an illegal and tyrannical imprisonment of 
twenty years. Not being a subject of the I:nglish 
Crown, Mary could not be brought to trial on the exist- 
ing statute of treasons. But just as little surely could 
she, except by the most outrageous defiance of all reason, 
be made amenable to the provisions of a new act spe- 
cially framed to comprehend her case, while she was 
detained a prisoner in the country by force. Among the 
most active of her judges were Elizabeth's ministers them- 
selves, Lord Burleigh, Sir Francis Walsingham, and 
others, the very men who had been labouring for years to 
effect her destruction, and who, at all events, were the 
acknowledged originators and directors of the preseut 
proceedings. It was not even pretended that any of her 
jury were her peers. She was allowed nocounsel. The 
letters and other papers, forming the principal evidence 
upon which she was convicted, were not only all of them 
the compositions of others, but were not even originais. 
Of the witnesses, some, such as Babington, had been 
previously put to death, merely the testimony which had 
been extracted from them before they suffered being ex- 
hibited ; others, such as her secretaries, Naue and Curl, 
although alive, were never confronted with her—their 
written depositions only being produced. Having ob- 
tained her easy object by the verdict of the commis- 
sioners, Elizabeth thought it necessary to go through a 
melancholy farce of dissimulation, without a parallel for 
elaborate and at the same time transparent artifice. At 
last, in the midst of her hypocritical lamentations, she 
affixed her signature to the warrant of execution. She 
could not at the moment conceal the exultation with 
which her heart was palpitating. “ Go,” she said jest- 
inely to Davison, as she delivered him the fatal docu- 
ment, “ tell this to Walsingham” (who was then sick), 
“though I fear he will die for sorrow when he hears it.” 
She afterwards pretended that the execution took place 
contrary to her intentions; aud Davison, whom she and 
her advisers had made their instrument, suffered severely 
for the part which he had been befooled to play. ‘The 
Earls of Shrewsbury, Derby, Kent, and Cumberland, to 
whom the warrant was directed, arrived at Fotheringay 


4g 


on the 7th of February, 1587, and immediately informed 
Mary that she must prepare for death. She heard the 
announcement with courage and resignation, and asked 
to have a confessor. Jiven this favour was not eranted ; 
but they offered to send to her Dr. Fletcher, the Dean 
of Peterborough, whom she refused to see. She then 
supped, drank to her servants, who pledged her on their 
knees, perused her will, adding certain bequests, and 
retired to rest. Havine slept some hours she awoke, 
and spent the rest of the nightin prayer. The morning 
being come she dressed herself in a robe of black velvet, 
the richest in her wardrobe, and then retired to her 
oratory, where she remained till the sheriff came to 
summon her to the scaflold. It was placed at the 
upper end of the Hall, having set’ on it a chair, a 
cushion, and a block covered with black cloth. Here 
Fletcher beean to address her in a violent invective 
against her religion; but she requested him to desist. 
He then delivered a prayer; after which the executioner 
prepared himself to .do his ofhce. Her women having 
removed the upper part of her dress,. Mary-knelt .down 
and laid her head on the block, when the executioner at 
two strokes severed it from her body. By the testimony 
of all who were present, her bearing, at this her last hour, 
was in all respects beconiing and magnanimous. We 
ought also to have mentioned that, addressing the crowd 
who stood around, she solemnly declared her innocence 
both of the murder of Darnley, and of any participation 
in Babington’s conspiracy against the hfe of Elizabeth. 


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[Portrait of Queen Mary.] 


ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN GELZONTS 
EXHIBITION. 


Anp thou hast walk’d about (how strange a story !) 
In Thebes’s streets three thousand years ago, 
When the Memnonium was in all its glory, 
And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 


Speak! for thou long enough hast acted Dummy, 
Thou hast a tongue—come let us hear its tune ; 

Thow’rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy! 
Revisiting the glimpses of the moon, 

Not hke thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 

But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 


Tell us—for doubtless thou canst recollect, 
Zo whom should we assign the Sphinx’s fame ? 


LHE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





(FEBRUARY 2, 1833. 


Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect —- - 
Of either pyramid that bears his name ? j 

Is Pompey’s pillar really a misnomer ? 

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 


Perhaps thou wert a mason, and forbidden 

By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade ; 
Then say what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon’s statue which at sunrise play’d ? 
Perhaps thou wert a priest—if so, my strugeles 
Are vain, for priestcraft never owns its juggles. 


Perchance that very hand, now pinion’d flat, 
Has hob-a-nobb’d with Pharaoh glass to glass ; 
Or dropp’d a halfpenny in Homer’s hat, 
Or doff’d thine own to let Queen Dido pass; 
Or held, by Solomon’s own invitation, 
‘A torch at the great Temple’s dedication. 


I need notask thee, if that hand, when arm’d, 
Has any Roman soldier maul’d and knuckled, — « 
For thou wert dead, and buried, atid embalin’d, 
Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled :—- 
Antiquity appears to have begun 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 


since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have above ground seen some strange mutations ; 
The Roman empire has begun and ended, ° 
. New worlds have risen—we have lost old nations, 
And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 


Didst thou not hear the pother o’er thy head, 
When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 
March’d armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 
O’erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 
And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, 
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 


If the tomb’s secrets may not he confess’d, 
The nature of thy private hfe unfold :— 
A heart has-throbb*’d beneath that leathern breast, 
Aid tears adown that dusky cheek have roll’d: | 
Have children clinb’d those knees and kiss’d that face? 
What was thy name and station, age and'race ? - 


é 


Statue of flesh—immortal of the dead ! 
Imperishable type of evanescence! ; | 
- Posthumous man, who quitt’st. thy narrow bed, 
And standest undeeay’d within our presence, 
Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning - 
‘When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 


- Why should this worthless tegument endure, : 
If its undying guest be lost for ever ? 
~ O let us keep the soul embalm’dand pure - 
‘In hvimg virtue, that when both must sever, 
Although corruption may our frame consume, . 
Lhe immortal spint in the skies may bloom. - 
. "New Monthiy Magazine. 


ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND: 
Frienp after friend departs ; 
Who hath not lost a imend ? 
There is no union here of hearts 
That finds not here an end ; 
Were this frail world our final rest, 
Living or dying none were blest. 


Beyond the fight of time,— 
Beyond the reign of death,— 
There surely is some biessed chime 

Where life is not a breath ; 
Nor hfe’s affections, transient fire, 
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire. 
There is a world above, 

Where parting 1s unknown; 
A long eternity of love, 

Form’d for the good alone ; 
And faith beholds the dying, here, 
Translated to that glorious sphere! 


Thus star by star dechines, 
Till all are past away ; 
As morning high and higher shines, 
To pure and perfect day ; 
Nor sink those stars in empty mght, 
But hide themselves in heaven’s own light. 
Monraomery. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 
a teal 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 





Printed by Wituram Crowes, Stamford Street, 


é ry * 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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[Indian Jugglers exhibiting tamed Snakes. } 


THERE are several passages in Scripture which allude to 
the commonly-received opinion in the East, that serpents 
are capable of being rendered docile, or at least harmless, 
by certain charms or incantations. The most remarkable 
of these texts is that of the 58th Psalm, where the 
wicked are compared to ‘‘ the deaf adder that stoppeth 
her ear, which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, 
charming never so wisely; and that of the 8th chapter 
of Jeremiah, “ I will send serpents. cockatrices, among 
you, which will not be charmed.” Dr. Shaw says that 
a belief that venomous serpents might be rendered 
umoxious by songs or muttered words, or by writin 
sentences or combinations of numbers upon scrolls of 
paper, prevailed through all those parts of Barbary 
where he travelled. In India, at the present day, the 
serpent-charmers are a well-known division of the nu- 
merous caste of jugelers that are found in every district. 
Mr. Forbes, in his ‘ Oriental Memoirs,’ appears to attach 
some credit to their powers of alluring: the Cobra-di- 
Capello, and other snakes, from their hiding-places, by 
the attraction of music. Mr. J ohnson, however, mm his 
‘Sketches of India Field Sports,’ says, “The professed 
snake-catchers in India are a low caste of Hindoos, won- 
derfully clever in catching snakes, as well as in practising 
the art of legerdemain: they pretend to draw them from 
their holes by a song, and by an lustrument somewhat 


Vou. II. 


or 
o 


& 


aon aa ew 


resembling an Irish bagpipe, on which they play a plain 
tive tune. ‘The truth is, this is all done to deceive. IJ. 
ever a snake comes out of a hole at the sound of their 
music, you may be certain that it is a tame one, trained to 
it, deprived of its venomous teeth, and put there for the 
purpose ; and this you may prove, as I have often done, 
by killing the snake, and examining it, by which you 
will exasperate the men exceedingly.” 

The account of Mr. Johnson certainly appears the 
more probable version of this extraordinary story; yet 
enouch remains to surprise, in the wonderful command 
which these people possess over the reptiles that they 
have deprived of their power of injury, and teugue to 
erect themselves and make a gentle undulating move- 
ment of the head, at certain modulated sounds. There 
can, we think, be no doubt that the snake is taught to 
do this, as the bear,and the cock of the Italians are in- 
structed to dance, as described in our last number. The 
jugelers are very expert in the exercise of the first branch 
of the trade, that of catching the snakes. They discover 
the hole of the reptile with great ease and certainty, and 
digging into it, seize the animal by the tail, with the left 
hand, and draw the body through the other hand with 
extreme rapidity, till the finger and thumb are brought 
up to the head. The poisonous fangs are then removed, 
and the creature has to commence its mysterious course 


H 


50 


of instruction. According to Mr. Johnson, however, the 
business of the snake-charmer is a somewhiat perilous 
one. In catching the reptiles, they are generally pro- 
vided with a hot iron to sear the flesh, should they be 


bitten ; and the following aueccdote, given by Mr. Johnson, 


would show that the danger is not completely avoided, 
even when the venomous fangs are removed :—“ A man 
exhibited one of his dancing cobra-di-capellos before 
a large party. A boy about sixteen years old was 
teasing the animal to make it bite him, which it actually 
did, and to some purpose, for in an hour after he died 
of the bite. The father of the boy was astonished, and 
protested it could not be from the bite; that the snake 
had no venomous teeth; and that he andthe boy had 
often been bitten by it before, without any bad _ effect. 
On examining the snake, it was found that the former 
fangs were replaced by new ones, not then far out of the 
jaw, but sufficient to bite the boy. ‘he old man said 
that he never saw or heard of such a circumstance 
before.” 


a 


MUTUAL INSTRUCTION. 
Tue following account of a Literary Society, the mem- 
bers of which belong to the working class, is condensed 
from a paper addressed to the proprietors of large ma- 





nufactories by the Secretary of the Glasgow Chamber of | 
He has in couseqnence these fourteen days to make 


° 


Commerce. 
it is justly remarked by this gentleman that the mere 
acquisitions of reading and writmg only serve to open 
the door to knowledge; and, unless we are induced to 
pass the’ pertal, the stores which lie within will still re- 
main useless to us. No eilorts, however assiduous, for 
acquiring intellectual treasures in the exercise of our 
‘mental powers, can be so successful or satisfactory as 
where men unite together to grapple with ignorance, 
and mutually to instruct each other. The formation of 
societies for this purpose cannot be too strongly recom- 
mended. An account of such an institution formed in 
Glascow for the improvement of a single body of work- 
men will strongly illustrate these remarks. : 
The Gas Light Chartered Company of that city con- 
stantly employs between sixty and seventy men in the 
works; twelve of these are mechanics, and the others fur- 
nace-men and common labourers of different descriptions. 
In 1$21 the manager of the works proposed to these men 
to eoutribute each a small sun monthly, to be laid out 
in books to form a library for thei common use. He 
informed them that’if they agreed to this, the Company 
would give them a room to keep the books in, which 
should be heated and lighted for them in winter; that m 
this room they might meet every evening throughout the 
whole year to read and converse, in place of going to the 
alehouse, as many of them had been in the practice of 
doing; that the Company would further give them a 
present of tive guineas to expend on books; and that the 
management of every thing connected with the measure 
should be intrusted to a committee of themselves, to be 
named and renewed by them at fixed periods, J*our- 
teen of the workmen were induced to agree to the plan. 
A commencement was thus made, For the. first two 
years, until it could be ascertained that the meimbers 
would take proper care of the books, it was agreed that 
they should not remove them from the reading-room, 
but that they should meet there every evening to pernse 
them. After this period, however, the members were 
allowed to take the books home; and they then met 
only tyyics a week at the reading -room, to change them, 
and canverse upon what they had been reading. ‘he 
increase ef the number of the subscribers to the library 
was at frst very slow, and at the end of the second 
“year the whole did not amount to thirty. But from 
cquyerping twice a week with one another at the library 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


9, 


= 


[}epRUARY 


among them. They had, a little before this time, ob- 
tained an Atlas, which, they say, led them to think of a 
pair, of Globes. One of their members, by trade a 
joiner, who had had the advantage of attending two 
courses of lectures in the Andersoniay Institution, vo- 
lunteered, on the third year after the formation of the 
society, to explain toits members the use of the globes. 
This he did one evening in every week, and succeeded 
so well that he offered on the other meeting in the week 
to give an account of some of the principles and pro- 
cesses in mechanics and chemistry, accompanied with a 
few experiments. He next, and while he was still 
rong on with his lectures, undertook, along with another 
of the workinen, to attend in the reading-room dunng 
the other evenings In the week, and teach arithmetic to 
such of the members as chose. ‘The society now made 
very rapid progress, and its members were induced to 
make a new arrangement by which the labour of in- 
structing was more equally divided. : 
The individuais of the committee agreed among them 

selves to give in rotation a lecture cither on chemistry or 
mechanics every ‘Fhursday evening, taking Murray for 
their text-book im the one, and Fergusson in the other. 
The plan is still pursued. It is intimated a fortnight 


before to the person whose turn it is, that he is to lecture 


from such a page to such a page of one of these authors. 


himself acquainted with the subject; and he is authorized 
to claim, during that period, the assistance of every mem- 
ber of the society in preparing the chemical experiments, 
or making the little models of machines for illustrating 
his discourse. 

It is a remarkable circumstance in this unique process 
of instruction, that there has been no backwardness found 
on the part of any of the individuals to undertake to lec- 
ture in his turn, nor the shehtest diffidence exhibited in 
the execntion. This is attributed solely to its being set 
about without pretension or affectation of knowledge, and 
merely as a means of mutual Improvement. 

On the Monday evenings the socicty has a voluntary 
lecture from any one of its members who chooses to give 
notice of his intention, on either of the branches of 
science already mentioned, or upon any other useful 
subject he may propose. And there is with the eeneral 
body the same simple unhesitating frankness, and dispo- 
sition to come forward in their turn, that exist among 
the members of the committee with regard to the lectures 
prescribed to them. It may be interesting as well as 
useful to mention some of the subjects of the different 
lectures that were given during the first three months 
afier this plan was adopted. ‘Phose delivered by the 
meinbers of the committee consisted of eleven on me- 
chanics, including the application of the mechanical 
powers ; one on magnetism and electricity ; one on wheel 
carriages; one on the primitive form of erystals; and 
one on hydrostatics. ‘The voluntary lectures treated on 
the air-pnmp, chemistry, &c., besides many practical 
subjects, such as boring and mining; Sir Humphrey 
Davy’s lamp; the construction of a corn-mill; anda 
description of Captain Manby’s invention for the pre- 
servation of shipwrecked seamen. 

The effect of this society was soon found to be most 
beneficial to the general character and happiness of the 
individuals composmeg it. It may readily be conceived 
what a valuable part of the community the whole of our 
manufacturing operatives might become if the people 
employed in every large work were enabled to adopt 
similar measures. What might we not then be entitled 
to look for, In useful inventions and discoveries, from 
minds awakened and invigorated by the self-discipline, 
which such a mode of instruction requires. 

The Gas Company being fully aware of the beneficial 
‘consequences resulting from the instruction of their work- 


= 


uppn tae acquisitions they had been making, a taste tor 


~ gSlense BAG @ Gesice for information began to spread | people, fitted wp for their use, in the latter end of 1824, a 


q 


= 


1833.] 


more commodious room for their meetings, with a small 
laboratory and workshop attached to it; where the experi- 
ments are couducted; and the models to be used in the 
lectures ure prepared. Previously to this time the men 
lind made for themselves an air-pump and an electrify- 
ing niachine, and some of thei are constantly engaged 
in the laboratory and workshop during their spare hours. 
At the eid of three years from its commencement the 
whole of the workmen, with the exception of about 
fifteen, became members of the society, and these were 
withheld from jomie in consequence of their inability to 
read. ‘The others said to them, “ Join us and we will 
teach you to read.” It is gratifying to know that this 
invitation has not been made in vain; and that at the pre- 
seut time this association, now amounting to upwards of 
seventy persous, comprehends nearly all those employed 
about the works. 

The Rules of the society, which have been framed 
by the members themselves, are simple and judicious. 
Every person on becoming a mémber pays seven shil- 
lings andsixpence of entrance money. This sum is taken 
froin him by instalinents, and is paid back to him should 
he leave the gas works, or to his family or heirs should 
he die. Besides this entrance money, each member con- 
tributes three halfpence weekly, two-thirds of which go 
to the library, and one-third to the use of the laboratory 
and workshop. ‘The weekly lectures are continued 
during the winter months, and.the members are per- 
mitted to bring to these any of their sons whi are above 
seven and under twenty-one years of age. Additions 
have from time to time been made to the chemical and 
mechanical apparatus, and the library now contains 
seven hundred volumes. 


A SABBATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 

[The following paper is a continuation of those inserted in Nos. 51 
and 52, under the title of ‘a Party of Emigrants travelling in 
Afiica.? | : 

We were placed on our location, near the source of the 

Baviaan’s River, on the 29th June: next day we were 

visited by Captain Harding, the magistrate of the dis- 

trict, and formally installed in our new possessions. By 
the advice of this officer, we resolved to place a nightly 
watch, to guard our cainp from any sudden attack that 
might be attempted by Caffer or Bushman marauders ; 

and as Captain Harding considered our position to be a 

very exposed one, we agreed to continue, at least for the 

first season, in one body, and to erect our huts and 
cultivate our crops in one spot, for the sake of common 
security and mutual help. 

The day following we made a complete tour of our 
united domain, to which we gave the Scottish name of 
Glen-Lynden—an appellation afterwards extended to 
the whole valley of “ Baviaan’s River”’ We erected 
temporary land-marks to divide the allotments of the 
different families; and in our proeress started a good 
deal of wild eame, quaegas, hartebeestes, rietboks, oribis, 
and two wild boars, oue of which we killed; but we 
saw no beast of prey, except a solitary jackal. 

The next day, July 2d, was our first Sunday on our 
own grounds. Feeling the high importance of. strictly 
maintuining the suitable observance of this day of sacied 
rest, it was unanitnously resolved that we should abstain 


from all secular employment not sanctioned by absolute 


necessity; and at the same time commence such a 
system of religious services 4s might be with propriety 
maintained in the absence of a clergyman or minister. 
The whole party were accordingly assembled after break- 
fast, under a venerable acacia tree, on the margin of the 
little stream which murmured pleasantly beneath. The 
river appeared shaded here and there by the oracef a] 
willow of Babylon, which grows abundantly alone the 
banks of the African streams, and which, with the other 


THE PENNY 


51 
the beautiful lament of the Hebrew exiles :—" By the 
rivers of Babylon, there we sat, yea we wept Whien wa 
remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the 
willows in the midst thereof.”’ 

It was, indeed, an affecting sieht to look round on 
our little band of Scottish exiles, thus conzrerated for 
the first time to worship God in the wild cleu alldtted 
for their future home and the heritage of their offspring. 
There sat old ——, with his silvery locks, the patriarch 
of the party, with his Bible on his knee,—a picture 
of the grave, high-principled Scottish husbandman ; his 
respectable family seated round him. There was the 
widow , with her meek, kind, and quiet look—like 
one who had seen better days, but who in adversity had — 
found pious resignation, with her three stalwart sons 
and her young maiden daughter placed beside her on 
the grass. There was Mr. , with his two servant 
lads, the younger brother of a Scottish, laird, rich in 
blood, but poor in fortune, who, with an estimable 
pride, had preterred a farm in South Africa, to a humi- 
hating dependence on aristocratic Connexions at home, 
There, too, were others still more nearly related to the 
writer of this little sketch—the nomitial head of the 
party. Looking round on these collectéd @réups, on 
this solemn day of assemblage, such reflections as the 
following irresistibly crowded on his mind: “ Have I 
collected from their native homés, and led forth to this 
remote corner of the globe, all these my friénds and 
countrymen, for good or for evil ?—to pétish misefably 
in the wilderness, or to become thé honoured fouitders 
of a prosperous Settleinent, destii¥éd to exteud the bene- 
fits of civilization and the blessed lieht of thé Gospel 
through this dark and desolate nook of benighted 
Africa? ‘The issue of our enterprise is known only to 
Him who ordereth all things well: ‘ Man proposes; but 
God disposes.’ But though the restilt of otir scheme is 
in the womb of futurity, and although it seems probable 
that greater perils and privations await us than We had 


MAGAZINE, 











| once calculated upon, there yet appears no cause to re- 


pent of the course we have taken, or to atistit un favout- 
ably of the ultimate issue. Thus far Providence has 
prospered and protected us. We left not: our native 
land (deeply and dearly loved by us) frorh Wanton rést- 
lessness or mere love of change, or without very Sufh- 
cient and reasonable motives. Let us, théréfore; go On 
calmly and courageously, duly invoking thé blessing of 
God on all our proceedings; and thus, be the result 
what it may, we shall feel ourselves in the path of active 
duty.”—With thése, and similar reflections; we encou- 
raged Ourselves, aud proceeded to the religious services 
of the day. 

Having selected one of the hymns of our nationai 
church, all united in singing it to one of the old pathetic 
sacred melodies with which it is usually conjoimed in the 
sabbath worship of our native land. The day was bright 
and still, and the voice of praise rose with a sweet and 
touching solemnity among those wild mountains, where 
the praise of the true God had, never, in all human pro- 
bability, been sung before. The words of the hymn (com- 
posed by Logan) were appropriate to our situation and 
our feelings, and affected some of our congregation very 


sensibly :— 


“ © God of Bethel! by whose hand thy people still are fed ; 
Who through this weary pilgrimage hast all our fathers Ted: 
Through each perplexing path of life our wandering footsteps 
yr Bae te 

Give us each day our daily bread, and raiment fit provide : . 
O! spread thy covering wings around, till all our wanderings _ 

cease , ; 
And at our Father’s loved abode out souls arrive in peace.” 


¢ 


We then read some of the most ‘suitable portians ; 
of the English Liturgy, which we considered preferable: 
to any extempore service that could be substitiitéd 6A: 


peculiar features of the scenery, vividly reminded us of} this occasion; and concluded with an excellent discourse 


H 2 


52 


from a volume of sermons, by a friend well. known 
and much esteemed, the late Dr. Andrew Thomson, of 
Edinburgh. : | 

We had a similar service in the afternoon; and agreed 
to maintain in this manner the public worship of God in 
our little settlement, until it should please Providence 
av-ain to favour us with the regular dispensation of our 
holy religion. | 

While we were singing our last psalm in the after- 
noon, a roebuck antelope, which appeared to have wan- 
dered down the valley, without previously observing us, 
stood tor a little while on the opposite side of the stream, 
wazing at us in innocent amazement, as if yet unac- 
quainted with man, the great destroyer. On this day it 
was, of course, permitted to depart unmolested. 





THE PENNY 





MAGAZINE. [Fenrvary 9, 

On this and other occasions the scenery and produces 
tions of the country reminded us in the most forcible 
manner of the striking imagery of the Hebrew Scriptures. 
‘The parched and thorny desert —the rugged and stony 
mountains—the dry beds of torrents—“ the green pas 
tures by the quiet waters’—‘‘the lions’ dens’ —*‘* the 
mountains of leopards” — “‘ the roes and the young harts 
(antelopes) that feed among the lilies’ —‘“‘the cony of 
the roeks’—‘‘ the ostrich of the wilderness’ —“ the 
shadow of a great rock in a weary land;’ — these, anda 
thousand other objects, with strikingly appropriate de- 
scriptions which accompany them, reminded us conti 
nually with a sense of their beauty and aptitude, which 
we had never fully felt before. 

P. 


VIRGINIA WATER. 


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Tue district of Windsor - Forest called Virginia Water 
was planted, and the Lake formed, under the direction 
of Paul Sandby, at a time when Duke William of Cum- 
berland resided atthe Lodge which’ bears his name, 
about three miles from Windsor. The lake is the largest 
piece of artificial water in the kingdom; if artificial it 
can be called—for the hand of man has done little more 
than turn the small streams of the district into a natural 
basin. The grounds are several miles in extent; although 
so perfectly secluded that a traveller might pass on the 
high road without being aware that he was near any 
object that could gratify his curiosity. They are now 
covered with magnificent timber, originally planted with 
regard to the grandest effects of what is called landscape 
gardening. By the permission of the King, Virginia 
Water is open to all persons; and by those residents in 
London who can spare the time and expense for such an 
excursion, a fine day of the approaching spring or sum- 
mer could not be better spent, than in rambling through 


e e e 4 
the most romantic district within a hundred miles of the 


metropolis, 


re : [Fishing Temple on the Lake.] 


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The scenery in the neighbourhood of Virginia Water 
is bold and rugged; being the commencement of Bag-. 
shot Heath. ‘The variety of surface: here agreeably 
relieves the eye, after the monotony of the first: twenty 
miles from ‘town, which equally fatigues the traveller, 
either upon the Bath or western road. About two miles 
beyond the town of Evham is a neat inn, the Wheatsheaf, 
From the garden of this inn there is a direct access to 
the lake. But we would advise the traveller to take a 
more circuitous course of viewing it if he havetime. A 
few hundred yards above the inn, is a branch road to the 
right, which leads to a remarkably pretty village called 
Blacknest, nearly two miles from the high road from 
which we recommended him to diverge. Here is a 
keeper's lodge ; and the persons at the gate will readily 
give admission to Virginia Water. After passing through 
a close wood of pines we come to some “alleys green,” 
which lead in different directions. ‘Those to the right 
carry us up a steep hill, upon the summit of which is a 
handsome building called the Belvedere. ‘Those to the 
left conduct to the margin of the lake, A scene of great 





1833.] 


beauty soon bursts upon the view. A verdant walk, 
bounded by the choicest evergreens, leads by the side of 
a magnificent breadth of water. The opposite shore is 
covered with heath; and plantations of the most eracefiull 
trees—the larch, the ash, and the weeping birch, (“ the 
lady of the woods,”) break the line of the more distant 
hills. The boundary of the lake is every where most 
judiciously concealed ;—and the imagination cannot 
refrain from believing that some great river lies beyond 
that screening wood. Every now and then the road 
carries us through some close walk of pines and laurels, 
where the rabbit and squirrel run across with scarcely a 
fear of man, But we again find ourselves upon the margin 
of the lake, which increases in breadth as we approach 
its head. At the point where it is widest, a fishing 
temple was erected by George IV.; which, as seen from 
the shore we are describing, is represented in the wood- 
cut at the head of this article. 

The public road to Blaclmnest is carried over a bold 
arch which is not far out of the line of our walk. This 
is asingularly beautiful spot. ‘To our minds it is not now 


so much in accordance with the general character of the 





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A walk from this spot of a quarter of a mile brings us 
tc the cascade at the head of the lake. Cascades are 
much upon the same plan, whether natural or artificial : 
the scale alone makes the difference. This cascade is 
sufficiently large not to look like a plaything ; and yet it 
gives but an imperfect notion of a fine natural cascade. 
It wants height, and volume of water. In the latter 
particular of excellence, however, the grandest cascades 
are Often very disappointing. After a mountain-storm 
when the gills (little runnels) sparkle down the sides 
of the barren rocks, and the force leaps over some fearful 
chasm in one unbroken sheet, cascades are worthy of 
the poetical descriptions which have been so often 
lavished upon them, In other seasons they appear 


THE PENNY 





(Dry Arch, under the road to Blacknest. | 


MAGAZINE, | 53 


scenery, as it was some ten years ago. Several antique 
fragments of Greek columns and pediments, that used to 
he in the court-yard of the British Museum, now form 
an artificial ruin, as represented in the wood-cut. Real 
ruins removed from the sites to which they belone, are 
the worst species of exotics. The tale which they tell’ ot 
their old grandeur is quite out of harmony with their 
modern appropriation. Wecan look with an antiquarian 
interest upon a capital in a cabinet. Buta shaft or two 
perched up in a modern pleasure-ground, produces a 
ludicrous struggle between the feeling of the trne and 
the artificial; and a sort of scorn of the vanity which 
snatches the ruins of the dead from the hallowed spot 
Where time or the barbarian had crumbled them into 
nothingness, to administer to a sense of what is pretty 
and merely picturesque. A real ruin is a solemn thing, 
when it stands upon the site where it had defied the 
elements for centuries, in its pomp and glory; but a 
mock ruin—a fiction of plaster and paint, or a collec: 
tion of fragments brought over sea to be joined together, 
without regard to differences of age and style—are 
baubles. 7 —_ 





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very feeble additions to the charms of the mighty lakes 
and solemn mountains amidst whose solitudes they 
are found 

From the bottom of the cascade a road has been 
formed to the bank of the lake, opposite that which we 
have been describing. The walks here are as verdant 
and as beautiful as those we have left. We reach a rus- 
tic bridge, and cross one of the streams that feed the 
lake. Here we are in a more wild and open country. 
We may trace the course of the little stream amongst 
the underwood; or strike into the path which leads to 
the villave of Bishopgate. The finest woodland scenery, 
and spots of the most delicious seclusion, where nothing 
is heard on a summer noon but that indescribable buz 


54 
with which every lover of solitude is familiar, will amply 
yepay for alingering hour. Bishopgate is a beautiful 
spot, surround led by “the most delightful varieties of hill 
1g dale, of wood and water. The poet Shelley, who 
hada true eye for the picturesque, resided for some time 
here. The Roval Lodge,which was close by, (the favourite 
retreat of George IV: 5 is now pulled down. ‘The com- 
mon road from Bishopgate to Windsor is through that 
vista of magnificent elms, the Long Walk. There is a 
more secluded horse-road, which affords some exquisite 
views of the Castle, aud many forest scenes of striking 
beauty. 


eee em eat 


SIMPLIFICATIONS OF ARITHMETICAL RULES. 
No. 2. 


We now suppose e the attentive reader to have practised 
the rnle given in No. 1 of this series, where any number 
of shillings, pence, and farthings is converted into the 
corresponding number of thouselittns of a pound, We 
proceed to a rule for finding how much a year a given 
sum per week will amount to. The rule will be correct 
within eighteen-pence, which in such a matter is suff- 
cient for every-day purposes. 

Suppose a man to gain £1. 15s. 74d. per week, and 
we want to find how much this is a year. Convert this 
sum, as in the last number, which eives 1781. First 
annex two ciphers to 1781, and divide by 2, which gives 
89050; then multiply 1781 by 2, which eives 3562, 
Add these —_— 

89050 
3562 


92612 


Fron the right of which cut off three places; let the 
fieures which remain on the left be the pounds, and 
convert those which were cut off into shillings and pence, 
as in the last number. ‘This gives £92. 12s. 3d. The 
correct answer is £92. 123. 6d. Again, let 11s. 33d. 
be the weekly sum. ‘This converted, gives 565 ; proceed 
as before, that is, take the half of 56500 and twice 565, 
end :add, which gives 29880, and 29/880 cotivertél 
gives £29. 7s. 74d. The real answer is £29. 8s. 3d. 
We now take the converse question, to find how much 
a week will come aa a given sum per year. Let the 
yearly sum be £29. } 2. Reject the shillings and 
pence, reserving one rai thing for every shilling so rejected, 
to be applied as hereafter shown. Multiply the pounds 
by 2, which gives 58. Annex two ciphers to 58, giving 
5800; multiply 58 by 4, giving 232. Subtract the 
second from the first— _ : 
5800 
232 
5508 
Cut off four places thns /5568, which; inl this case, cuts 
off all the figures, and convert this into pourids, shillings 
ard pence, (in. this case there are no poutids,) which 
eives lls. lk Ad, Now add the 8 reserved farthings, 
which gives Ls. 34d., within a farthing of the truth, 
as appears by the last question. If the result contains 
any pounds, it may be made more correct by adding a 
farthing and a half for every pound. Suppose, for 
example, “= we ask how much £312 per year gives 
per week. We have chosen this example because the 
answer aay to be exactly £6, from which we may 
judge what derree of correctness our rule gives. The 
process is as follows : — 





312 





Subtract 4 times 624 
59964 A 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘ind of rippling. 


[FeBRUARY 9, 


And 5/9904 eives £5, 19s. 93d. If we adda farthing 
and a half for each of the 5 pounds or add 13d. Cds 
ing the half farthing), we have £5. 19s. l1dd.; and if 
we had observed that the answer is very nearly 6 pounds. 
and had added a farthing and a half more, retaining 
the half farthing which we just now rejected, we should 
have had an exact result, 

We would recommend the reader who studies the prili- 
ciples of algebra, to endeavour to ascertain the reason 
for this rule. 


THE HERRING FISHERY. 


THERE are few fish of which the supply is more abun 
dant, or for which the demand is more considerable, than 
the herring. It affords a cheap means of subsistence to 


‘the population of our sea-coasts; and, although preju- 


dices are often entertained by many persons against 
the use of fish, we believe that, if not eaten to excess, 
the herring is both nutritious and wholesome. The 
Dutch consider it to be highly so, and a fresh herring 
early in the season is esteemed in Holland almost as a 
panacea for all disorders. 

iYerrings are found from tke highest northern latitudes 
as low as the northern coast of France. Their ereat 
winter rendezvous is within the Aretic Circle, where the y 
continue for many months in order to recruit them- 
selves after the fatigues of spawning, as the Seas within 
that circle swarm with insect food in a far greater degree 
than those of the warmer latitudes. They “beein to ap- 
pear off the Shetland Isles in April and May ; but the 
creat sttoal does not arrive till June. Their advance 
is marked by the approach of numerous birds of prey. 
The main body is so broad and deep as to alter the 
appearance of the very ocean; it 1s divided into columns 
of five or six miles in length, and three or four itt 
breadth, and they drive the “water before them with % 
Sometimes they sink for ten or fifteen 
minutes and then rise again to the surface; and m fine 
weather they reflect a variety of splendid colours, like a 
field of the most precious gems. 

In the account of the herring in Pennant’s British 
Zoology, it is conjectured that the instinct of migration 
was given to herrings that they might depesit their “spawtt 
in warmer seas, that would mature and vivify it more 
assuredly thau those of the frozen zone, This is the more 
probable, because they come to us full of fat, aud on their 
return are almost univ ersally observed to be lean. What 
their food is near the Pole is not well known, but in our 
seas they feed much on the onzscits marinus, a crusta- 
ceous insect, and sometimes on their own fry. At the 
end of June they are full of roe, and continue in perfec- 
tion till the beeinnine of winter, when they deposit their 
spawn. The youne herrings begin to ‘approach the’ 
coast ih July and August, a nd are then about two inches 
long. According to Pennant, the annual shoal of hefrings 
is fiist divided in its coursé southward by the Shetland 
Islands; on iéeliie whtth, ofe Wille takes to the 

eastern, the otlier to the western shores of Great Britain, 
each separate shoal being guided by a leader of larger 
size than the ordinary fish. ‘Those which take towards 
the west, after offering themselves to the Hebrides, where 
the great stationary fishing is, proceed to the north ot 
Treland, when they meet with a second interruption, and 
are oblia ed to make a second division; the one takes to 
the western side, and is scarcely pereeived, being soon 
lost in the Atlantic, but the other, which passes into the 
Irish Sea, feeds the inhabitants of most of the coasts that 
border on it. ‘The divisions, however, are capricions in 
their motions, and do not show an invariable attachment 
to their haunts. 

The importance of the British herring fishery, as a 
‘branch of industry; has been thought by some to have 
| been much overrated; and Mr. MM‘ Culloch has reimarked 










that the exag erated estimates that have been current 
with respect to the extent and value of the Dutch 
fishery have contributed very much to the diffusion of 
false uotions on this head. He doubts whether the 
utch fishery ever afforded employment to more than 
50,000 individuals; although the Encyclopedia Britan- 
nica has stated the number employed at 450,000, 
Various attempts have been made to extend the British 
fishery by bounties; and to so extravagant a pitch was 
this system at one period carricd, that in the year 1759 
the almost incredible sun of £159. 7s. 6d. was paid as 
a bounty upon every barrel of merchantable herrings 
that was produced; and, as Adain Smith says, vessels 
were consequently sent ont not to catch herrings, but to 
eatch the bounty. ‘lhc system cf bounties, howevcr, was 
brought to an end inthe year 1530; and the supply will 
henceforth be proportionate to the real demand, which 
will ultimately be more advantageous to the public, 
more especially as the repeal of the salt duties must 
be of siwnal service to all the fisheries. According 
to the last official account, being for the year ended 
Sth of April, 18390, the total quantity of herrings cured 
in Great Britain was 329,557 barreis, and that ex- 
ported was 181,654 barrels, of which 89,680 went to 
Ireland, 67,672 to places-out of Ixurope (chiefly the 
West Indies), and 24,302 to places in lsurope other than 
Treland. 
The inyention of pickling herrings is ascribed to one 
Beukels, a Dutchman, who died in 1397. lis grave 
was visited by the Emperor Charles V., and a magnifi- 
cent tomb was erected by that prince to his memory. 
The Dutch have always maintained their ascendancy in 
the fishery, but the consumption on the Continent is 
now far less than in the middle ages. This may be 
attributable to the Reformation, and the relaxed ob- 
servance of Lent, or perhaps, in some degree to the effect 
of habit and fashion. ‘Phe herring is the Clupea ha- 
rengus in the language of Linnaeus, and is too familiar to 
require description. its power of procreation is most 
extraordinary. ‘Phe fish is supposed to be best when 
shotten, as it is termed; that ts, after having parted with 
‘itsroe. The young roe is soft and pulpy, and when older 
becomes hard and seedy. ‘The night is said to be more 
favourable than the day for the herring fishery. There 
is an expression, “ pickle-herring,’ usec by some writers 
as meaning a jack-pudding, or merry-andrew, the origin 
or precise application of which does not appear to be 
noticed by lexicographers. 


‘ 


The Mouse.—About cight years ago, being in the daily 
habit of deseending into the coal-mines of the Newcastle 
istrict, I one day caught a half-grown mouse, at the extre- 
mity of a gallery into which the little animal had retreated as 
dvaneed towards it (a situation, by the way, in which I 





und and attack a boy). Now, as no cat had up to that 
per 9a been iutroduced into the mine, I determined to carry 
Lome 






een’ 


was placed on a table, and dashed at it with all the ferocity 
of a tiger. To my surprisé and amusement, my youthful 
prisoner continued his ablutions with all the coolness imagi- 


nable, without even condescending to notice the furious efforts | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


59 


of the cat to break the glass and devour him. This experi 
ment was frequently renewed for the amusement of my 
friends, and invariably with the same results. § hortly after- 
wards I carried the little animal again into the coal-mine, 
and set him free. It must be obvious that the mouse eould 
not be aware that the glass of the lantern afforded him a 
sufficient protection ; it did appear to me at the time, that he 
had no natural or instinctive dread of the cat—-(From a 
Correspondent.) | 


ae 


LADY JANE GREY. 


Liz 12th of February is the anniversary of the execu 
lion of the young and interesting Lady Jane Grey. 
Lhis unfortunate lady was born in the year 1537. , It 
vas her unhappy lot to be nearly allied to the blood- 
royal of England, through her mother, who was the 
daughter of Mary, the youngest sister of Henry VIIFE., 
and the wife first of Louis X1¥¥. of France, and after his 
death of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffoli. By the 
latter she had a daughter Frances, who married Henry 
Grey, Marquis of Dorset, and thus became the mother 
of the subject of the prescnt notice, and of two younger 
daughters. When by the death of his wife's two brothers, 
without issuc, In 1551, of what was called the sweating 
sickness, the Dukedom of Suffolk, created in favour of 
Charles Brandon, had become extinct, the Marquis of 
Dorset was advanced to that title, through the influence 
of the noted John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, who was then 
in the hci@ht of his power, and who at the same time 
obtained for himsclf the dignity of Duke of Northumber- 
land. ‘The scheme of this ambitious politician was to 
secure the crown for his own descendants by marrying his 
fourth son Lord Guilford Dudley to Lady Jane Grey, and 
then getting his royal master, Edward VI., over whom 
he possessed a complete ascendancy, and the probability 
of whose early death he seems to have already foreseen, 
to declare that lady his successor. Up to a certain point 
this project succeeded. In May, 1553, the young pair, 
between whom there is understood to have existed a 
warm attachment, were united at Durham Housc, the 
residence of the bridegroom’s father, which stood on the 
site of the present Adelphi buildmgs. ~The Kine, 
who had been for some time ill, was alrcady looked upon 
as past recovery; and on the llth of June he was per- 
suaded by Northumberland to send for several of the 
judges, and to desire them to draw out an assignment 
of the crown in favour of Lady Jane. That day they 
refused to obey this command; but on the 15th they 








‘complied ; and on the 21st the document was signed by 
all the members of the Privy Council, twenty-one in 


number. 
to have been rather sooncr than was expected; and, in 


Edward died on the 6th of July, which secms 


consequence, Northumberland, not having yet every 
thing in readiness, attempted for a few days to conceal 


aye seen arat, by which the mines are also infested, turn ‘the demise of the crown. At length, on the 9th, he 


proceeded along with the Duke of Suffolk to Durham 
House, where Lady Jane was, and announced to her 
the royal dignity to which she had become heir. At 
first she firmly refused to accept what she maintained 
belonged to another; but the entreaties of her father, 
aud especially those of her husband, finally prevailed 
upon her to consent that she shauld be proclaimed Queen, 
She was accordingly proclaimed in London on the fol- 
lowing day, having previously, under the direction of her 
father-in-law, withdrawn to the Tower, whither she was 
accompanied by all the Privy Council, whom the Duke 
was espccially anxious to retain at this juncture under. 
his immediate control. But all his efforts and precant- 
tions proved insufficient to compass the daring plot m 
which he had engaged. ‘The pretensions of Lady Jane 
to the crown were so perfectly untenable according to all 
the ordinary and established rules of succession, that the 
nation was nearly unanimous in regarding her assump- 
tion of the regal authority asa usurpation, Her reign, if it 


56 


is to be so called, lasted only for ninedays. Her autliority, 
as soon as it was questioned, was left without a single 
supporter. On the 19th the Council having contrived to 
make their escape from the Tower, while Northumber- 
land had gone to endeavour to oppose Mary in Cam- 
bridgeshire, met at, Baynard’s Castle, in the city, the 
house of the Earl of Pembroke, and sending for the 
Lord Mayor unanimously desired him to proclaim 
that princess, which he did immediately. Mary’s ac- 
cession then took place without opposition ; and she 
arrived in London on the 3d of August.» The. con- 
sequences, however, of the extraordinary attempt which 
had. just terminated-in so sienal a failure, were now 
about to fall with fatal effect both upon the guilty au- 
thors of the conspiracy, and upon the innocent young 
creature whom they- had made the instrument of their 
ambition.’ Orders were issued that both Lady Jane and 
her husband should be shut up:in the Tower. On the 
18th of August the Duke of Northumberland was tried 
and condemned to death; and on the 22d he was exe- 
cuted. On the 13th of November, Lady‘ Jane, her 
husband, two of her brothers-in-law, and Archbishop 
Cranmer, were all brought to trial, and sentence of guilty 
pronounced against them, Instead, however, of being 
put to death immediately, they were remanded to pri- 
son;-and no further steps were taken in regard to any 
of them till after the occurrence and suppression of the 
rash insurrection, headed by Sir Thomas Wyatt in the 
beginning of the following February. Wyatt himself 
suffered death for his share in this affair, as did-also the 
Duke of Suffolk and his- brother; and “ above fifty 
eallant officers, knights, aud gentlemen,” says the histo- 
rian Carte, .“ were put:to death as soon as the-rebellion 
was quelled. ** ‘There were above fonr hundred com- 
mon men executed before March 12; how many.suffered 
afterwards doesnot appear.” But among all who perished 
in this enormous carnage there-were none whose fate was 
so much lamented at:the ‘time, or: has been so long. re- 
membered, as the young, beautiful, and accomplished 
Lady Jane Grey. « On the morning of the same day her 
husband had been executed on the scaffold on Tower Hill 
(to the north-west of the Tower, at a short distance from 
the moat); and she had beheld his mangled corpse as it 
was carried back to the chapel, within the fort. She 
herself was soon after led out to suffer the same bloody 
death on the green in front of the chapel. She advanced 
with a book in her hand and with a composed counte- 
nance. Having mounted the scaffold, she then addressed 
the people, acknowledging the unlawfulness of her as- 
sumption of the crown, but declaring fervently her inno- 
cence of any part “in the procurement and desire 
thereof’’ She concluded by requesting the people to 
assist her with their prayers, and then knelt down and 
devoutly repeated one of the psalms. Having arisen, 
she declined the assistance of the executioner, who ap- 
proached to remove the upper part of her dress, and that 
service was performed by her female attendants, who 
also bound her eyes. Being then guided to the block, 
and having requested the executioner to dispatch her 
quickly, she knelt down, and, exclaiming ‘“‘ Lord, into thy 
hands I commend my spirit,” received the fatal stroke. 
Her demeanour was throughout touchingly resigned and 
beautiful, and altogether in, harmony with the gentle 
tenor of her whole previous life. Lady Jane Grey, who 
was thus cut off before she had completed her seventeenth 
year, was already one of the most accomplished and eru- 
dite of her sex in an age abounding in learned females. 
She is said to have been a perfect mistress of the French, 
Latin, and Greek languages. Roger Ascham, in his 
‘Schoolmaster,’ relates that, visiting her upon one occasion 
at her father’s seatin Leicestershire, he found her reading 
the Phaedon of Plato in the original, while the rest of 
the family were all engaged in some field amusements in 
the parks. ‘‘ I wis, all their sport,” she exclaimed, “‘ is 


UE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Femavany 9, 1833. 


but a shadow to the pleasure that I findin Plato.” ‘“ One 
of the greatest benefits that God gave me,” she afterwards 
remarked, as they continued the conversation, “is that he 
sellt me so sharp and severe parents, and so oentle a 
schoolmaster; for when I ain in presence either of father 
or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand or 
vo, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, playing, 
dancing, or doing any thing else, 1 must do it, as it were, 
in such measure, weight, and number, even so perfectly 
as God made the world, or else I am so sharply taunted, 
so cruelly threatened—yea, presently sometimes with 
pinches, nips, bobs, (and other,ways which I will not 
name for the honour I bear them,) so without measure 
misordered, that I think myself in hell, till time come 
that I must go to Mr. Aylmer, who teacheth me so 
pleasantly, so gently, and with such fair allurements to 
learning, that 1 think all the time nothing whiles I am 
with him; and when I am called from him I fail on 
weeping.” Pf | ce 


= =, 


WY \ 


weber sos tUAEUT Ee! 
. bee cerns y 





of, CK egg, 


{Portrait of Lady Jane Grey. | 





[NOTICE.—PENNY CYCLOPAiDIA.} 


Tux attention of the Committee has been called to several 
erroneous statements in the article ABERDEEN, in this work, 
The granite bridge there mentioned as being over the Dee 
is over the Don-burn; there are six kirks instead of two; 
and the poors’ hospital has been long since removed from 
behind the town-house. The Committee regret these mis- 
statements; and, as no information is more difficult to obtain 
with correctness than topographical, owing to the changes 
that are constantly going forward, especially in commercial 
places, they are making arrangements for procuring the 
revision of such articles by local residents in all important 
British towns. In the mean time they beg to invite com- 
munications from their readers, should such errors again 
arise; and with reference to this particular case, as well 
as others, it is their intention, upon the completion of each 
volume, to publish a List of Corrections with the Title; 
which will be delivered gratis. 


ae 2 —i””””—— SL j|.§ ee 


*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
' 59, Lincoln: Inn Fields. 


ee 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 





Printed by Witttam Clowes, Stamford Street. 





‘HE PENNY 





ZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Fyesruary 16, 1833. 





DOVER CASTLE. 


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[Dover Castle, from the Beach under Shakspeare’s Cliff. ] 


At the south-eastern corner of England, upon the sum- 
mit of a chalk cliff from 350 to 400 feet in height, and 
at the distance of about twenty-one miles from the oppo- 
site coast of France, stands Dover Castle. ‘The town of 
Dover has been built to the west of, and immediately 
below it. The antiquity of the castle very far exceeds 
that of the town; and all that the latter contains worthy 
of remark is of modern date. It is, however, generally 
known as the key to the Continent, and as possessing 
a very complete artificial harbour. ‘The coasts of Sussex 
and Kent, as well as the opposite coast of I*rance, are 
without natural harbours; but as a proof how far art 
has supplied this want, the harbours of Dover and 
Ramsgate, among others, may be referred to with just 
pride. 

The fortifications of the castle are of different epochs, 
Roman, Saxon, Norman, and of later date. The watch- 
tower (an octagonal building), the parapet, the peculiar 
form of the ditch, all exhibit the hand of the Roman 
architect ; and there is no doubt that the Romans had 
here one of their stationary posts, or walled encamp- 
ments. The foundations of the watch-tower are laid in 
a bed of clay, which was a usual practice with the Roman 
masons; and it is built with a stalactical composition 
instead of stone, intermixed with courses of Roman 
tiles. The watch-tower and the ancient church are the 
only remaining buildings within the Roman fortress. 
What the precise origin of this church was is not 
known, but it was consecrated to Christian worship by 
St. Augustine when he was in England in the sixth 
century. : 


Vou, II, 


= 


The Saxons extended the groundwork of the Roman 
fortress, and erected a fortress differing materially from 
that of the Romans, as it consisted merely of perpendi- 
cular sides without parapets, surrounded by deep ditches. 
In the centre of the old Saxon works is the keep, which 
is, however, of Roman origin, the foundation having 
been Jaid in 1153. It is a massy square edifice, the 
side on the south-west being 103 feet; that on the 
north-west 108 feet; and the other two 123 feet each. 
The north turret of the keep is 95 feet above the eround, 
which is 373 feet above the level of the sea. ‘The view 
from it, in a clear day, comprises the North Foreland, 
Ramsgate pier, the Isle of ‘Thanet, the valley of Dover, 
and the towns of Calais and Boulogne, with the inter- 
mnediate French coast. The rest of the fortifications are, 
for the most part, of Roman origin, but present the 
altered and improved appearance which has been given 
them by a succession of repairs for a course of centuries. 

During the French Revolution it was considered 
important to secure and defend Dover Castle as a inili- 
tary station. Fifty thousand pounds were voted for this 
purpose ; and miners and other labourers were employed 
to excavate the rock for purposes of defence, and to cast 
up additional mouuds and ramparts. Ixtensive bar- 
racks were excavated in the solid rock, by which accoin- 
modations were provided for a garmson of three or four 
thousand men. The subterraneous rooms and passages 
are shown to visitors, upon an order of the military com 
mandant being obtained. There is an armoury in the 
keep; and inany ancient curiosities are to be seen hire, 


among which is Queen Elizabeth’s pocket-pistol, a beau. 
; - 3 ¢ I 


58 


tiful piece of brass ordnance presented to Elizabeth by 
the States of Holland, as a token of respect for the 
assistance she afforded them against Spain. It is 
twenty-four feet long, and bears a Dutch inscription,, of 
which the following is a translation :— 
“ O’er hill and dale I throw my ball; 
Breaker, my name, of mound and wall.” 

In Lyon’s History of Dover, in two volumes quarto, 
or in a smaller work published by William Batcheller at 
Dover, may be found the detailed history of this castle, 
one remarkable event in which is, that on the 21st of 
August, 1625, it was surprised and wrested from the 
King’s garrison by a merchant of Dover, named Blake, 


with only ten of his townsmen, who kept possession of 


it for the Parliament, and effectually resisted the King’s 
troops. It is also worth- notice, that on the 7th of 
January, 1785, Dr. Jefferies and M. Blanchard em- 
barked in a balloon from the castle heights, and having 
crossed the channel in safety, descended in the forest of 
Guisnes in France. 

‘The Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports is Constable of 
Dover Castle, and has the execution of the King’s writs 
within the Cinque Ports—a jurisdiction extending from 
Margate to Seaford, independently of the sheriffs of 
Kent and Sussex. The castle contains a prison used 
for debtors and smugglers ; and the keeper has the 
feudal designation of Bodar, under the Lord Warden. 
The courts of Chancery, Admiralty, &c., for the Cinque 
Ports, are held by the Lord Warden in St. James’s 
church, at the foot of the castle-hill. The office of Lord 
Warden has been usually given to the first Lord of the 
Treasury, and is now held by the Duke of Wellington in 
consequence of his grace having been such first Lord 
when the office became vacant. 

To the west of Dover, opposite the castle, is the cele- 
brated Shakspeare cliff, described in the tragedy of King 
Lear. It fs 350 feet high, and almost perpendicular. 
The late Sir Walter Scott, when at Dover a few years 
since on his road to Paris, said to a gentleman who was 
speaking to him of this cliff: ‘“‘ Shakspeare was a low- 
Jand man, and I am a highland man; it is therefore 
natural that he should make much more of this chalk 
cliff than I can do, who live among the black mountains 
of Scotland.” The fact is that the cliff is remarkable for 
its form, but is by no means so awful or majestic as 
might be supposed, after reading King Lear. 


MINERAL KINGDOM—Section 3. 


Tur means by which geologists have been enabled to 
fix the order of superposition in the strata composing 
the crust of the globe have been, partly by the mineral 
composition of each member of the series, partly by their 
containing fragments of other rocks, but chiefly from 
the remains of animals and plants that are imbedded 
in them. It was observed that there was a class of rocks 
distinguished by a considerable degree of hardness, by 
closeness of texture, by their arrangement in slaty beds, 
and by possessing, when in thick masses, a glistening 
structure called crystalline by mineralogists, and of which 
statuary marble or loaf sugar may be quoted as familiar 
examples: when associated with rocks of another sort, 
also, they always were lowest.—These are marked R in the 
diagram, No. 1. Above and in contact with them another 
group of strata was observed, which had a good deal of 
resemblance to those below them in mineral composi- 
tion, but contained rounded fragments of other rocks, 
and when these fragments were examined they were 
found to be identical with the rocks composing the lower 
strata. 
by another group cf strata which contained shells and 
corals, bodies that had never been seen in any of the 
lower strata. ‘Thus it was clear, as the including’ sub- 


stance must necessarily be formed subsequently to the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


This second series was observed to be covered | 


(Fenrvary 16, _ 


pebble or shell it contains, ‘that previous to the formation 


of this third group there had existed rocks to supply the 


imbedded fragments, and to contain the waters of the 
ocean in which the animals that once inhabited the shells 
must have*lived. Ascending still higher, that is, observ- 
ing the strata as they lay one above another towards the - 
surface, it was found that many were entirely composed 
of the fragments of pre-existing rocks either in the form . 
of pebbles or of sand cemented together ; that there was a 
vast increase in the number and variety of the imbedded 
shells, the latter forming very often entire beds of rock 
many feet in thickness; and that the remains of plants 
began to appear. In this manner certain great divi- 
sions of the strata were established, by very clear and 
infallible distinctive characters. But it was reserved 


for an English practical mineral surveyor to make a dis- 


covery which gave a new direction to geological in- 
quiries, and which, in the course of a few years, intro- 
duced into the science a degree of precision and certainty 
that was formerly unknown. About thirty-five years 
avo, Mr. William Smith, of Churchill in Oxfordshire, by 
an extensive series of observations in different parts 
of Kingland, ascertained that particular strata were 
characterized by the presence of certain fossil or petrified 
shells, which were either confined exclusively to them 
or In predominating quantity, or were of rare occurrence 
in other strata; and he was thus enabled to identify 
two rocks at distant points as belonging to one stratum, 
when mere mineral characters would either have left 
him in uncertainty or have entirely failed in deciding 
the question. When this discovery became known to 
geologists, numerous observations were made in other 
countries, which completely proved that the principle was 
not only applicable in those places which Mr. Smith had 
had an opportunity of observing, but that it held good 
generally, and throughout the whole series of strata from 
the lowest in which organic remains are found to those 
nearest the surface. Under the direction of this guide, 
eeologists have been enabled to discover lines of separa- 
tion in the great divisions which, as already mentioned, 
had been established by prior observations, pointing 
out distinct epochs of deposition, and revealing a suc- 
cession of changes in the organic and inorganic creation, 
in a determinate chronological order. ‘This more accu- 
rate knowledge of the structure of the crust of the 
globe is of the highest interest and importauce; not 
only as a matter of speculative science, but as regards 
the practical advantages 11 common life that have been 
derived from it. Some of the more remarkable results we 
shall presently advert to; but we must proceed, in the 
first instance, to describe other parts of that structure. 
An examination of the phenomena exhibited by the 
internal structure of this series of superimposed rocks 
has established this farther principle—that all the 
strata must have been deposited on a level foundation,— 
that is, on pre-existing ground that was either horizontal 
or nearly so, at the bottom of a fluid holding their ma- 
terials either 11 suspension or in solution, or partly both. 
Now as we know of no fluid in which this could have 
taken place except water, geologists have come to the 
conclusion that the chief part of all the strata, however 
elevated they may now be above the level of the sea, 
were gradually deposited at the bottom of the ocean, 
and the remainder of them at the bottom of inland seas 
or lakes. But if this be so, what mighty revolu- 
tions must have taken place to cause rocks formed 
in the depths of the ocean to occupy the summits 
of the highest mountains! By what known agency- 
can so extraordinary a change of position have been- 
effected! That the fact of elevation is indisputable, is 
proved by the shells imbedded in stratified rocks at the 
greatest elevations; and geologists who have endea- 
voured to discover by what cause this change in the rela- 


tive position of the rock and the sea has been brought 


Cd ¢ t 


1833.] 


about, by an attentive observation of the phenomena 
of earthguakes and voleanoes, and the resemblance 


between the products of the latter and certain parts of 


the earth’s structure which we have yet to notice, have 
arrived at a very probable solution of the problem. 
Although the strata were originally deposited in a 
horizontal position, and are often found so in the greater 
proportion of cases, especially as regards the inferior 
iniembers of the series represented in diagrain No. I, 
Section 2, they are not uniformly so, but are inclined 
more or less, and they have been seen not only at every 
auele of inclination, but very often in a vertical position. 
When a vertical section of a mountain is exposed, as 
is often the case in valleys or the deep bed of a river, 
such an appearance as that represented in diagram No. 
2, is not uncommon ; and if the stratum @ be composed 






CFAany* é, 
&2,-2fe D4 


* 74 ee 
Kg ans 


Nissx. 


(6) [ No. 2.] 


of rounded blocks of stone surrounded by fine sand 
or clay, and if the stratum b contain a layer of shells 
lying parallel to the sides of the stratum, and if they be 
unbroken although of the most delicate texture, it 1s 
manifest that these strata could not have been deposited 
in their present vertical position, but upon a level 
eround. Sometimes they are not only disturbed from 
their horizontality, but are bent and contorted in the 
most extraordinary way, as if they had been acted upon 
by some powerful force while they were yet in a soft 
flexible state, as shown in the diagram No, 3,—an ap- 


Dn 


| (No. 3.] 


pearance very common in the slate rocks of the north 
coast of Devon. ‘This seeming disorder and confnsion 
is evidently a part of the order and harmony of the 
universe, a proof of desien in the structure of the globe, 
and one of the progressive steps by which the earth 
seems to have been prepared as a fit habitation for 
man. For if all the strata had remained horizontal, that 
is, parallel to the surface of the globe, if they had 
eliveloped it like a shell, or, to use a familiar example, 
had they surrounded it like the coats of an onion, it is 
clear that we should never have become acquainted 
with any other than the upper members of the series, 
and that the beds of coal and salt, and the ores of ihe 
metals, all of which are confined to the inferior strata, 
could never have been made available for the purposes 
of man. Without this elevation of the strata the earth 
would have presented 2 monotonous plain, unbroken by 
the beautiful forms of hill and valley or the majestic 
scenery of mountains. With these inequalities of the sur- 
face are intimately connected all the varieties of climates, 
and the diversified products of animal and vegetable 
life dependent thereon; as well as the whole of whiat 
may be termed the aqueous machinery of the land, the 
fertilizing and refreshing rains, the sources of springs, 
inland lakes, and the courses of rivers and brooks in 
their endless ramifications. Throughout all this there 
reigns such a harmony of purpose, that the conclusion is 
irresistible, that the breaking up of the earth’s crust is 
not an irreenlar disturbance, but a work of design, in 
perfect accordance with the whole economy of nature, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


59 


We have said that if we dig through the superficial 
covering of sand and clay we usually come upon stone 
disposed in layers; but there are many places where we 
should find a rock without any such arrangement, and 
which would continue of the same uniform texture, and 
without any parallel rents dividing it into beds, however 
deeply we might penetrate into it. Such unstratified 
rocks, although of limited extent in proportion to the 
stratified rocks, constitute a considerable portion of the 
crust of the earth, and in all parts of it they generally 
rise above the surface in huge unshapei masses, sur- 
rounded by the stratified rocks; and sometimes they 
occupy districts of great extent where none of the latter 
recks can be seen. In mineral composition they are 
essentially different from the other class; never consist- 
ine of limestone, or sandstone, or clay, and never con- 
taining rounded pebbles, shells, or the remains of any 
other kind of organized matter. Their elementary con- 
stituent parts are simple mineral substances, which, 
although sometimes found in the stratified rocks, are 
always in the rocks we now speak of, in different combti- 
nations: they are always in that particular state called 
crystalline; and when the parts are large enough to be 


‘distinguished they are seen to interlace each other, and 


by this arrangement they form a very hard tough stone, 
very difficult to break into regular squared forms or 
to work with the chisel, and they are capable of re- 
ceiving very often a lugh polish. The substances most 
familiar to us in common life which belong to this 
class of rocks, are granite, whinstone, and basalt. The 
stones in the carriage-ways, and the curb-stones of the 
side-pavement, in the streets of London are usually 
cranite; Waterloo Bridge is built of it; and fine speci- — 
mens of different varieties may be seen in the new build- 
ines in Covent Garden Market, in the King’s Library at 
the British Museum, and among the larger Egyptian 
antiquities at the latter place. Granite is found in great 
abundance in the Grampians and other mountains of 
Scotland, in Devonshire in the mountainous district of 
Dartmoor, and in several! parts of Cornwall. ‘There are 
various kinds of whinstone, which is a term chiefly used 
in Scotland and the north of England, although the rock 
is met with in Wales and in the centre and western 
parts of England. ‘The varieties, however, are usually 
produced by changes in the proportions and sizes of the 
same ingredients. It is usually of a-dark green colour 
approaching to black, and often speckled with white. 
Some of the paving-stones of the carriage-ways in the 
streets of London are whinstone, brought from the 
neighbourhood of Edinburgh. It is often met with in 
the form of natural pillars, not round but angular, having 
sometimes three, sometimes six, and even eight sides, 
whieh are usually called basaltic columns: the Giant's 
Causeway in Ireland, and Fingal’s Cave in the island of 
Staffa, on the west coast of Scotland, are beautiful exam- 
ples of that peculiar structure. 

In our next section ‘we shall proceed to show that 
these unstratified rocks have acted a very conspicuous 
part in the various changes which the crust of the earth 
has undergone. 


GUSTAVUS THE GREAT OF SWEDEN. 
Tus following account is from materials given in the 
Travels of Schubert, a German, in Sweden and Norway. 
It relates to some of the personal adventures of Gustavus 
Erickson Vasa, a Swede of noble family; whom Chris- 
tian II. of Denmark, then the oppressor of Sweden, had 
carried off te Denmark, contrary to his word. Gustavus 
soon made his escape to Sweden, and this was the com- 
mencemeut of a revolution for his native country. 

About a quarter of a mile (German) beyond Dalsji, a 
short distance from the road and to the right, on a point 
of land projecting into the great lake Runn, stands the 


| building which is noted for having been the residence of 
i 32 


GO 


Gustavus I. in 1520. A beautiful walk leads to it, and 
delichtful valleys covered with shrubs lie all around the 
lake. ‘The wooden house in which Gustavus was con- 
cealed when the owner Arendt Pehrsson Ornflyckt be- 
trayed him, and the traitor’s wife, Barbara Stigsdotter, 
saved him, is still maintained in the same condition that 
it was in the time of Gustavus, and has lately had a 
new roof. ‘The crown allows a fixed sum to the pro- 
prietor for the maintenance of this house, which shows 
the simplicity of its former inhabitants. Like the farm- 
houses of Switzerland, it is surrounded by a covered 
balcony which is ascended by 4 flight of steps: this 
palcony forms the entrance to the house. In the ward- 
robe, where Gustavus was concealed, which 1s a room 
with very small windows, there is a wooden statue of 
Gustavus in his royal robes, resting on the Bible, which 
he caused to be translated and published at Upsal, in 
1541. In one hand he holds a telescope. On the 
table on which the Bible lies we see his gloves, which are 
iron on the outside and leather on the inside, his iron 
gorget and helmet; and on the mantel of the window 
ois brass watch. On the walls are suspended his coat 
of. mail made of brass wire, his dagger, and his cross- 
bow, with the pedigree of the family of Gustavus, the 
portraits of the Swedish kings of this family, and a 
map of Dalarne (Dalecarlia). Over the entrance are 
some verses which remind the visitor with what feelings 
he ought to approach this national sanctuary ; and near 
it three standing figures, one the body servant of Gusta- 

vus with arrow and lance, and the two others Dalecarlian 
peasants armed with cross-bow and quiver, in a white 

dress and peaked hats, which are now no longer in 
fashion. Some simple verses over these figures relate 

their patriotic deeds. Other verses tell, in chronological 
order, the most remarkable events in the life of Gus- 
tavus; they say how Gustavus fled in 1520 to Dalecarlia, 
and how Pehrsson’ and his wife kindly received him. 

But Pehrsson soon went to his brother-in-law, who held 

an office under King Christian, to concert with him about 
making Gustavus prisoner. His honest wife, however, 
saved the fugitive: she let him down from the window 
by some towels, and Jacob (one of the Dalecarlian pea- 
sants just alluded to) took him with all possible speed 
over lake Runn to the house of, Pastor John. Thongh 

John had been a friend of Gustavus at the university, 

he did not make himself known till he had worked at 

threshing corn with the servants for some time, and had 

found out by inquiry John’s feelings towards Gustavus 
Erickson. After this he only stayed three days with 

John, being closely. pursued by his enemies; and he fled 

to the house of Sven Elfsson, an honest farmer, where he 
stayed till spring. But even in this obscure retreat his 

enemies fullowed him, and once actually entered the 

room where Gustavus was standing and warming him- 

self at the fire. Sven's wife, who was baking bread, ob- 

serving that the eyes of the Danes were steadily directed 

on the strange young man, immediately struck Gustavus 
with her bread-shovel, exclaiming, in angry tone, ‘* Why 
stand you here gaping on the strangers? did you never 
see a man before? off to the barn !’—Gustavus went off 
to his threshing. Irom this hospitable retreat Sven took 

him in a waggon filled with straw, under which he was 
hid, to Marnas, over bridges and through passes occupied 
by the Danes, who stuck their daggers and pikes into the 
waggon, and wounded Gustavus. But the pain could 
not make him utter a single syllable; and he was saved 
by his own fortitude, added to the dexterity of the driver, 
who wounded the horse, and thus led the Danes to believe 
that the blood on the ground came from the animal. 
From Marnas, Gustavus was secretly conveyed to a 
forest on the river Lungsjo, where a decaying pine-tree 
afforded him shelter for three days. He was supplied 
with food from Marnas. As soon as it could be effected 
without danger, his two friends at Marnas, named 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


e 


[Fexzruary 16, 


Olson, took him to Gardsjo, where he stayed for some 
time concealed in a cellar near the church. Here, at 
last, he showed himself, and, in an inspinting address, 
urged the people to war. The Danes appeared, but 
the peasants sounded. the alarumebell, and the Danes 
with difficulty made their escape. 

After a short time the war commenced, which ended 
in seating Gustavus on the throne of Sweden. 


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‘Globe Theatre, Bankside. | 


Tue above wood-cut exhibits the Globe Theatre, pre- 
vious to its conflagration in 1613; it is taken from the 
‘View of London as it appeared in 1599.’ The Globe, 
which was converted from a bear-garden into a theatre 
about the year 1590, stood nearly opposite the end of 
Queen-street, Cheapside, and was a hexagonal building 
of wood, partly open at the top, partly thatched with 
reeds. The performances took place by day-light, and 
during the time of playing a flag was displayed on the 
roof. About 1596, the proprietors, of whom Shak- 
speare became subsequently one, had the old edifice 
pulled down, and a more commodious theatre erected. 

On the 29th June, 1613, the new house was entirely 
destroyed by fire. ‘The performers were representing 
Shakspeare’s play of Henry VIII., and on the King’s 
entrance in the masquerade some cannon were dis- 
charged, the wadding from which set fire to the thatch. 
In the following year it was rebuilt with more splendour 
than it before could boast of, and is mentioned by Taylor 
the poet, in the following lines :— 


“ As gold is better that’s in fire tried, 
So is the Bankside Globe that late was burned, 
For where before it had a thatched hide 
Now to a stately theatre is turned : 
Which is an emblem that great things are wor 
By those who dare through greatest dangers run.” 


Performances were probably continued at this theatre 
till the year 1642, when the Parliament issued an order 
for suppressing all theatrical representations. Its site 
is now occupied by Barclay and Perkins’s brewery, 
formerly the property of Mr. Thrale. 


St es ey = 


Singular Rocks.— A rock near the island of Corfu 
bore, and still bears, the resemblance of a vessel under 
sail: the ancients adapted the story to the phenomenon, 
and recognised in it the Pheacian ship in which Ulysses 
returned to his country, converted into stone by Neptune 
for having carried the slayer of his son Polyphemus. A 
more extensive acquaintance with the ocean has shown 
that this appearance is not unique’ a similar one on the 
coast’ of Patagonia has more than once deceived both 
French and English navigators; and Captain Hardy, in 
his Travels in Mexico, has recorded another near the shores 
of California, Foreign Revrew. 1 


THE BAMBOO. 


Wi 





¥/ 


Tue bamboo is a native of the hottest regions of Asia. 
It is likewise to be found in America, but not in that 
abundance with which it flourishes in the old world. It 
is never brought into this country in sufficient supply 
for any useful purposes, being rather an object of curi- 
osity than of utility. But in the countries of its produc- 
tion it is one of the most universally useful plants. 
“There are about fifty varieties,’ says Mr. Loudon, in 
his Botanical Dictionary, “of the Arundo bambos, each 
of the most rapid growth, rising from fifty to eighty feet 
the first year, and the second perfecting its timber in 
hardness and elasticity. It grows in stools which are 
cut every two years. The quantity of timber furnished 
by an acre of bamboosisimmense. Its uses are almost 
without end. Jn building it forms almost entire houses 
for the lower orders; and enters both into the construc- 
tion and furniture of those of the higher class. Bridges, 
boats, masts, rigging, agricultural and other implements 
and machinery; carts, baskets, ropes, nets, sail-cloth, 
cups, pitchers, troughs, pipes for conveying water, 
pumps, fences for gardens and fields, &c. are made 
of it. Macerated in water it forms paper ; the leaves 
are generally put round the tea sent to Europe: the 
thick inspissated juice is a favourite medicine. It ts 
said to be indestructible by fire, to resist acids, and, by 
fusion with alkali, to form a transparent’ permanent 
class.” 


ae 


WANDERING ITALIANS.—No. 2. 


THE emigrants from the North of Italy are fir more 
numerous, and generally engaged in more respectable 
or more important pursuits, than the poor peasants of the 
Apennines, of whom we gave an account in a preceding 
number. ‘hese Northern Italians come principally, as we 
have mentioned, from the lakes of Upper Italy, and the 
valleys and declivities of the Alps. The same curious 
practice obtains here as in the Apennines, and on a 
larger scale—that is, each district embraces a particular 
calling,-and never interferes with that of its neighbours. 
Kor generation after generation, one place has sent forth 
venders of barometers, &c.; another place, innkeepers 
and servants for inns; another, stone-cutters; another, 
house-painters and white-washers; another, masons and 
architects, and so on. We will begin with those from 





the lake of Como, the class of emigrants most fre-| 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 61 


quently found in England, and, perhaps, the most intel- 
lectual and important of the whole. 
The large and beautiful lake of Como is principally 
fed by the waters and melting snow of the neighbouring 
Alps, and is almost entirely surrounded by lofty and very 
steep mountains that are picturesque to the eye rather 
than productive to the poor inhabitants. In their best 
parts, the superior region of these mountains offers woods 
and pastures, the middle region an abundance of chesnut 
trees, and the lower declivities bear vines, mulberry trees, 
a few olives, and vegetables. Corn is grown in some 
places, and rye in others; but frequently under circum- 
stances of great difficulty, requiring infinite labour and 
ingenuity. ‘The bear, the wolf, the chamois, the white 
hare, the marmot, and other wild animals aye found on 
these mountains ; whose sides, like those of the Apen- 
nines, are frequently swept by tremendous hunricanes, 
which throw down the walls built to retain the soil, carry 
away the earth and its produce, and destroy the labours 
of years. Hard, however, as is the strugele of man with 
nature, population has gone on increasing in these parts, 
and the uumber of towns and villages is very consider- 
able. Many of these, as seen from the level of the 
lake, present the most striking and picturesque appear- 
ances imaginable. ‘The inhabitants of these places have 
devoted themselves principally to the manufacture of 
barometers, thermemeters, and other useful instrumenis, 
which have at different periods originated in philoso- 
phical discoveries and improvements in the knowledge 
of physics. ‘l’hese simple mountaineers have shown a 
remarkable degree of intelligence in these matters, and 
an aptitude to comprehend and imitate machines and 
instruments used in the natural sciences, as soon as they 
have been invented. With this branch of industry they 
not merely emigrate to all parts of Italy, but to France, 
England, Germany, Russia—to every part of Europe— 
whilst some have even crossed the Atlantic both to North 
and South America. Like the manufacturers of plaster 
figures from Lucca, these barometer-makers from the 
lake of Como can find the simple materials employed 
in the construction of their wares in most of the towns or 
ereat cities whither they may go. Generally, however, 
of late years, in England and the more civilized portions 
of Europe, they have opened shops in places where they 
have settled for longer or shorter periods. But the num- 
ber of those who have relinquished their own country, 
and made a permanent settlement in England and else- 
where, is remarkably small. The attachment to their 
mountain homes is as strong in the breasts of the wan- 
derers from Como as we have described it in the poor 
peasants from the Apennines, and their scope and ambi- 
tion are the same—to return to the scenes of their birth, 
to become the owners of a little estate, and to build a 
house of their own. We must remind the reader (a cir- 
cumstance, however, that will probably strike him from 
what has been said), that as the speculations of the 
Comaschi (people of Como) are more important than 
those of the Jeaders of bears, and showers of monkeys 
and white mice, much more money is carried back to the 
mountains round the lake of Como than to the Apen- 
nines. ‘The effect of this is seen in the superiority in the 
style and condition of their houses, gardens, and lands. 
The major part of the capital thus obtained by foreign 
trade is invested in agriculture and in rendering pro- 
ductive the naturally rude or difficult uneven soil they 
inhabit. Their grounds could be preserved and made 
fruitful only by excessive care; their gardens are cul- 
tivated with much neatness, and the luxuriant vine is 
made to climb over the snow-white walls of their pleasant 
homes, or is suspended over trellices to form a verdant 
avenue to their doors. ‘The general practice with those 
who have made their little fortunes abroad, is to leave 
their sons, or to invite from Italy some near relative or 
family connexion to come and take possession of their 


62 


shop and trade;.and when this is done, and the new- 


occupants sufficiently instructed how to proceed, the 
retiring tradesmen take their way back to Como. It 
is the custom for those who are not at very remote 
distances from their native country to return home once 
in two years, and pass the winter with their friends. 

It is asserted on good authority that in these emi- 
grating districts, except during the winter, it used to be 
a comion thing to find not more than a tenth part of the 
male population at home. ‘The women, who are strong 
and laborious, did the labour of the men in their absence, 
cultivated the farms, which are not extensive, and with 
the children tended their herds of goats and their few 
sheep. After the first French revolution the tide of 
emigration had somewhat decreased ; but since peace has 
been established on the Continent, and communications 
re-opened with Eneland, it has gone on increasing. 
Though not .subjected to the miserable privations of 
the Apennine emierants, the Comaschi, almost univer- 
sally, live very soberly, and persevere in a plan of 
strict economy while abroad. <A few years ago there 
used to be a public-house somewhere in Holborn, fre- 
quented on the Saturday night by the men from the 
Jake of Como; and another, near Oxford Street, resorted 
to by the plaster-figure makers from Lueca. The writer 
of this article, who had lately returned from Italy, had 
once the curiosity to go into both these places of ren- 
dezvous. He found each party very gay—talking a 
ereat deal, but drinking very little; and he was struck, 
as he had often been before, by their continually-recur- 
ring recollections of home, and by the pure Italian 
spoken by the Lucchesi, and the almost unintelligible 
jargon of the Comaschi. Before quitting this part of 
our subject, we may remark that as the wandering 
Luechesi, with their cheap plaster casts, have propagated 
a taste for the fine arts, so have the emigrant Comaschi 
served to familiarize even the poor and lowly with the 
discoveries of physics and useful inventions. Penetrating 
into one country after another, as they-have long been 
doing, they may be considered as retailers and pro- 
pagators of science. On the other hand, returning 
home, they have distributed the manufactures of foreign 
countries through their native mountains; for every 
time that a Comasco returns to his village, whether it be 
for good or only for a short visit to see his family and 
friends, he carries with him a little paccotiglia or adven- 
ture of wares from the lands in whieh he has sojourned. 
In this way our Sheffield and Birmingham manufac- 
turers have been indebted to them; for no articles are 
more acceptable than English razors, scissors, pocket- 
knives, &c., and these the Comaschi carry back to their 
countrymen in considerable quautities. Thus these 
humble persons in more ways than one advance the 
elvilization of the world. 

The next class of northern Italian emigrants we shall 
notice are those from the Val d’Intelvi—a secluded 
mountain valley, about eight miles in length, situated 
between the lake of Como and the neighbouring lake of 
Lugano, The inhabitants of this district are nearly all 
builders and masons, architects, and civil engineers. 'To 
exercise their professions they regularly emigrate, not 
merely to all parts of Lombardy and of the Venetian 
States, but to nearly every state and province in Italy, 
{rom the Alps as far the Neapolitan kingdom. Indeed a 
building of any importance is seldom found in progress 
in ay part of the Peninsula, without a number of these 
industrious and ingenious emigrants being employed 
about it. Some of them go into Switzerland, and others 
seek employment in Germany. ‘They love their homes as 
much as their neighbours; and, though often prevented 
by distance and other circumstances arising from their 
profession, their general object is to return to the Val 
d’Intelvi every winter. Many of these mountaineers are 


men of considereble scientific acquirements and excellent | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(Fesrvary 16 


practical mathematicians. The [talian portion of the 
srand road of Mount Simplon, which, of the two, is 
better made than the French portion, though the difficul- 
ties to be overcome on the Italian side were incomparably 
greater than those on the I*rench, was mainly executed 
under the superintendence of engineers from the Val 
d’Intelvi, the lake of Como, &c. Indeed these Italian 
mountaineers—‘ gente nata in aria fina’ (people born 
in a subtle atmosphere), as their countrymen say of 
them, are justly celebrated in all Upper Italy for their 
perspicacity, perseverance, sagacity, and sound judg- 
ment; and from them proceed not only the best engineers, 
but the most distinguished lawyers. 

Leaving the lakes of Como and Lugano for the lake 
Maggiore, we find on the shores of the latter lake another 
emigrating district. This is towards the head of the 
Lago Mageiore, near to Locarno, where the inhabitants 
are chiefly house and ornamental painters or decorators. 
Leaving also the Lago Mageiore and approaching the 
Alps, not far from Domo d’Ossola, and immediately at 
the foot of Mount Simplon, there is another and nume- 
rous class of emigrants, who are also house-painters and 
white-washers, called by the Lombards and Piedmontese 
‘“ Sbianchini.” These humble artists go to many parts 
of Italy and to Switzerland. ‘They invariably leave their 
homes in spring and return at the approach of winter. 

Another class of emigrants, the next in consequence, 
and perhaps superior in wealth to the Comaschi, come 
from the beautiful little lake of Orta, near the other end 
of the Lago Maggiore. 'These all leave home as hotel 
servants or keepers of little inns, from which humble 
condition the clever or the successful gradually raise | 
themselves to the rank of keepers of hotels and to the 
acquisition of fortune. They settle in different parts of 
Lombardy and the rest of Upper Italy. They go to Ger- 
many, to Spain (in considerable numbers), and some of 
them come to England. Pagliano, the hotel keeper in 
Leicester Square, though himself from Piedmont, has 
generally some servants from this district, who contrive 
even in Eneland to live upon almost nothing, and to save 
nearly all their wages and other gains. ‘To the knowledge 
of the writer of this article, a few years ago, the “‘ Fontana 
de Oro,” and one or two more of the best hotels at Madrid, 
an hotel at Seville, one at Cadiz, and another and a very 
cood one at Algesiras opposite Gibraltar, were kept by in- 
dividuals from the Lago d’Orta and its neighbourhood. 
Averse to perpetual expatriation, aud fond of their native 
spots as the rest of their countrymen, these people are 
continually returning home as soon as they have madea 
fortune, and these fortunes are In mally cases very cons 
siderable. Here, therefore, as at Como, neat houses and 
elecant little villas are seen, added from time to time, on 
the shores and hills above the tranquil lake. The vil- 
lares are numerous, well-peopled, and prosperous; @ 
cheerful and: social spirit prevails; and the -retired ost2 
or innkeepers, retaining their old habits, and being fond 
of crowded companies, nothing is more eommon than to 
find fifty or sixty individuals assembled in the evening at 
one house, playing at tarrocco and other games of cards, 
and enjoying festivity and music. ‘Lhcir season of great- 
est hilarity is the autumn—the time the Italians prefer 
for their villeggiatura or residence in the country; and 
at this season the lake of Orta has long been, like the 
famed abbey of Vallombrosa in the words of Ariosto,— 

“ Ricca e bella, non men religiosa, 
E cortese a chiunque vi venia.”” 
Beauteous and rich, and not theless devout 
And courteous to every comer there. 

Their courtesy and hospitality are indeed at the au 
tumnal season remarkable, and extended to al! visitors 
whether friends or strangers. It is pleasant to see these 
people in the evening of life enjoying what they have so 
hardly earned and struggled for. ‘The whole secret of 
all these emigrants retiring with mdepenudence, while 


1833.] 


the natives of the countries where they have been who 
exercised the same callings merely contrive to live, is to 
be found in their frugal, abstemious, and regular habits— 
in their faculty of sacrificing the present to the future— 
and in their laudable ambition of becoming the owners 
of a house and a piece of land in their own country—a 
prospect that is hardly ever from before their eyes. 

There are a few other emigrant districts besides these 
described. A certam number of peasants emigrate from 
the Val d'Aosta, on the Piedmontese side of the Alps, 
exercising the same callings as the wanderers from the 
Apennines and the Savoyards, with whom they are often 
confounded. From the Italian portion of the Tyrol, also, 
some troops wander about every year selling their manu- 
factures, which are tappeti or coverings for tables, but 
they seldom cross the Alps. The desire for travel is a 
great passion amongst the people whom we have noticed. 
The mountaineers of all that part of Italy which touches 
on, or is part of, the Alps, generally love a wandering life 
and are averse to service, though when they take to it 
they are excellent and most trustworthy domestics. The 
honesty, the orderly conduet, and civility (in its extended 
sense) of the Comaschi in particular are proverbial. 
These qualities strike the traveller or casual observer ; 
but we have it from a gentleman who has not only been 
long resident on the lake of Como, but once employed 
in the Council of State of Milan, that’ for year after year 
there used to be scarcely an instance of a crime committed 
in those districts; and that the office of Judge seemed 
to be a sinecuré among them. 


GALILEO. 
Tue 19th of February by some accounts, but according 


to the best authorities the 15th, is the anniversary of 


the birth of one of the greatest philosophers of modern 
times, the celebrated GaninEo Gatiner. He was born 
at Pisa, in 1564. His family, which, till the middle of 
the 14th century, had borne the name of Bonajuti, was 
ancient and noble, but not wealthy; and his father, 
Vincenzo Galilei, appears to have been a person of very 
superior talents and accomplishments. [fe is the author 
of several treatises upon music, which show him to have 
been master both of the practice and theory of that art. 
Galileo was the eldest of a family of six children, three 
sons and three daughters. His boyhood, like that of 
Newton, and of many other distinguished cultivators of 
mathematical and physical science, evinced the natural 
bent of his genius by various mechanical contrivances 
which he produced; and he also showed a strong predi- 
lection and decided talent both for music and painting. 
It was resolved, however, that he should be educated 
for the medical profession ; aud with that view he was, 
in 1581, entered at the university of his native town. 
He appears to have applied himself, for some time, to 
the study of medicine. We have an interesting evi- 
dence of the degree in which his mind was divided 
between this new pursuit and its original turn for 
mechanical observation and invention, in the history of 
his first great discovery, that of the isochronism (or 
equal-timedness, as it might be translated,) of the vibra- 
tions of the pendulum. The suspicion of this curious 
and most important fact was first sugeested to Galileo 
while he was attending college, by the motions of a 
lamp swinging from the roof of the cathedral. It imme- 
diately occurred to him that here was an excellent means 
of ascertaining the rate of the pulse; and, accordingly, 
after he had verified the matter by experiment, this was 
the first, and for a long time the only, application which 
he made of his discovery. He contrived several little 
instruments for counting the pulse by the vibrations of 
a pendulum, which soon came into general use, under 
the name of Pulstlogies ; and it was not till after many 
years that it was employed ag a general measure of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


63 


time. It was probably after this discovery that Galileo 
began the study of mathematics. _ From that instant he 
seemed to have found his true field. So fascinated was 
he with the beautiful truths of geometry, that his medi- 
cal books henceforth remained unopened, or were only 
spread out over his Euclid to hide it from his father, 
who was at first so much grieved by his son’s absorption 
in his new study, that he positively prohibited him from 
any longer indulging init. After some time, however, 
seeing that his injunctions were insufficient to overcome 
the strong bias of nature, he yielded the point, and. 
Galileo was permitted to take his own way. Having 
mastered Isuclid, he now proceeded to read the Hydro- 
statics of Archimedes ; after studying which he produced 
his first mathematical work, an Essay on the Hydro- 
statical Balance. His reputation soon spread itself 
abroad ; and he was introduced to one of the ablest of the 
Italian mathematicians of that day, Guido Ubaldi, who, 
struck with his extraordinary knowledge and _ talents,. 
recommended him to the good offices of his’ brother, 
the Cardinal del Monte ; and by the latter he was made 
known to the then Grand Duke Ferdinand. The road 
to distinction was now open to him. In 1589 he was: 
appointed to the office of Lecturer on Mathematics in the 
University of Pisa; and this situation he retained till 
1592, when he was nominated by the Republic of Venice 
to be Professor of Mathematics for six years in their 
University of Padua. From the moment at which he 
received the first of these appointments, Galileo gave 
himself up entirely to science ; and, although his salary 
at first was not large, and he was consequently, in order 
to eke out his income, obliged to devote a great part of 
lus time to private teaching, in addition to that consumed 
by his public duties, his incessant activity enabled him to 
accomplish infinitely more than most other men would 
have been able to overtake in a life of uninterrupted. 
leisure. The whole range of natural philosophy, as then 
existing, engaged his attention ; and besides reading, 
observation, and experiment, the composition of numer- 
ous dissertations on his favourite subjects occupied his 
laborious days and nights. In 1598 he was re-appointed 
to his professorship with an increased salary ; and in 
1606 he was nominated for the third time, with an addi- 
tional augmentation. By this time he was so popular as 
a lecturer, and was attended by such throngs of audi- 
tors, that it is said he was frequently obliged to adjourn 
from the largest hall in the university, which held a 
thousand persons, to the open air. Among the services 
which he had already rendered to science may be men- 
tioned his contrivance of an instrument for finding pro- 
portional lines, similar to Gunter’s scale, and his re- 
discovery of the thermometer, wliuch seems to have been 
known to some of the ancient philosophers, but had 
long been entirely forgotten. But the year 1609 was 
the most momentous in the career of Galileo as an en- 
larger of the bounds of natural philosophy. It was in 
this year that he made his grand discovery of the tele- 
scope—havine been induced to turn his attention to the 
effect of a combination of magnifying glasses, by a re- 
port which was bronght to him, while on a visit at Venice, 
of a wonderfnl instrument constructed on some such 
principle, which had just been sent to Italy from Hol- 
land. In point of fact, it appears that a rude species of 
telescope had been previously fabricated in that country ; 
but Galileo, who had never seen this contrivance, was 
undoubtedly the true and sole inventor of the instrument 
in that form in which alone it could be applied to any 
scientific use. ‘The interest excited by this discovery 
transcended all that has ever been inspired by any of 
the other wonders of science. After having exhibited his 
new instrument for a few days, Galileo presented it to the 
Senate of Venice, who immediately re-elected him to his 





professorship for life, and doubled his salary, making it 
now one thousand florins, He then constructed another. 


64 


telescope for himself, and with that proceeded to examine 
the heavens. He had not long directed it to this, the field 
which has ever since been its principal domain, before 
he was rewarded with a succession of brilliant discoveries. 
The four satellites, or attendant moons, of Jupiter, re- 
vealed themselves for the first time to the human eye. 
Other stars unseen before met him in every quarter of 
the heavens to which he turned. Saturn showed his 
singular encompassing ring. ‘The moon unveiled her 
seas and her mountains. The sun himself discovered 
spots of dark lying in the midst of his brightness. All 
these wonders were announced to the world by Galileo in 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[February 16, 1833, 


other misfortunes now crowded upon his old age. His 
health had long been bad, and his fits of illness were now 
more frequent and painful than ever. In 1639 he was 
struck with total blindness. A few years before the tie 
that bound him most strongly to life had been snapt by 
the death of his favourite daughter. Weighed down by 
these accumulated sorrows, on the 8th of January, 1642, 
the old man breathed his last at the advanced age of 
seventy-eight. Jor a full account of Galileo—of what 
he was and what he did—the reader ought to peruse his 
Life in the ‘ Library of Useful Kuowledge,’ from which 
the above rapid sketch has been abstracted. ‘The sub- 


the successive numbers of a publication which he entitled | ject of the philosopher and his times is there treated in 


the ‘ Nuncius Sidereus, or Intelligence of the Heavens,’ 
a newspaper undoubtedly unrivalled for extraordinary 
tidings by any other that has ever appeared. In 1610 
he was induced to resign his professorship at Padua, on 
the invitation of the Grand Duke of Tuscany to accept 
of the appointment of his first mathematician and philo- 
sopher at Pisa. Soon after his removal thither Galileo 
appears to have for the first time ventured upon openly 
teaching the Copernican system’ of the world, of the 
truth of which he had been many years before convinced. 


This bold step drew down upon the great philosopher a | 


cruel and disgraceful persecution which terminated only 
with his life. An outcry was raised by the ignorant 
bigotry of the time, on the ground that in maintaining 
the doctrine of the earth’s motion round the sun he was 
contradicting the language of Scripture, where, it was 
said, the earth was constantly spoken of-as at rest. The 
day is gone by when it would’ have been necessary to 
attempt any formal refutation of: this absurd notion, 
founded as it is upon a total misapprehension of what 
the object of the Scriptures is, which are intended to teach 
men iorality and religion only, not mathematics or 
astronomy, and which would not have been even intelli- 
gible to those to whom they were first addressed, unless 
their language in regard to this and-various other mat- 
ters had been accommodated to the then universally pre- 
vailing opinions. In Galileo’s day, however, the Church 
of Rome had not learned to admit this very obvious con- 
sideration. In 1616 Galileo, having gone to-Rome on 
learning the hostility which was gathering against him, 
was prraciously received by the Pope, but was com- 
manded to abstain in future from teaching the doctrines 
of Copernicus. Jor some years the matter was allowed 
to sleep, till in 1632 the philosopher published his 
celebrated Dialogue on the two Systems of the World, 
the Ptolemaic and the Copernican, in which he took 
but little pains to disguise his thorough conviction of 
the truth of the latter. The rage of his enemies, who 
had been so long nearly silent, now burst upon him 
in a terrific storm. The book was consigned to the 
Inquisition, before which formidable tribunal the author 
was forthwith summoned to appear. He arrived at 
Rome on the. 14th of February, 1633. We have not 
space to relate the history of the process. It is 
doubtful whether or no Galileo was actually put to 
the torture, but it is certain that on the 2lst of June 
he was found guilty of heresy, and.condemned to 
abjuration and imprisonment. His actual confinement 
in the dungeons of the-Holy Office lasted only a few 
days; and after’some months he was allowed to return 
to his country seat at Arcetri, near Florence, with a 
prohibition, however, against quitting that retirement, 
or even admitting the visits of his friends. Galileo 
survived this treatment for several years, during which 
he continued the active pursuit of his philosophical 
studies, and even sent to the press another important 
work, his Dialogues on the Laws of Motion. The 
rigour of his confinement, too, was after some time much 
relaxed ; and although he never again left Arcetri 
(except once for a few months), he was permitted to 
enjoy the society of his friends in his own house, But 


ample detail, and illustrated with many disquisitions of 
the highest interest. 





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{Portrait of Galileo.] 


Blarney.—In the highest part of Blarney Castle, inthe 
county of Cork, is a stone usually pointed out to the visitor, 
which is said to have the power of imparting to the person 
who kisses it the unenviable privilege of hazarding, without 
a blush, that species of romantic assertion which many term 
falsehood. Hence the phrase of blarney, applied to such 
violations of accuracy in narration.—Brewer.s Beauties of 
Ireland. 


Excess in the Pursuit of Knowledge.—The principal 
end why we are to get knowledge here is to make use of 
it for the benefit of ourselves and others in this world ; 
but if by gaining it we destroy our health, we labour for 
a thing that will be useless in our hands; andif by harass- 
ing our bodies (though with a design to render ourselves 
more useful), we deprive ourselves of the abilities and oppor- 
tunities of doing that good we might have done with a 
meaner talent, which God thought sufficient for us, by hav- 
ing denied us the strength to improve it to that pitch, which 
men of stronger constitutions can attain to, we rob God of 
so much service, and our neighbour of all that help, which, 
in a state of health, with moderate knowledge, we might 
have been able to perform. He that sinks his vessel by 
overloading it, though it be with gold and silver and precious 
pete will give his owner but an ill account of his voyage. 

ocke. 





©,° The Office of the ain’ for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 


Printed by Wittran Crowss, Ptanford Breet, : 








HE PENNY 





OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 











[F’rrruary 23, 1833. 


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[ Principal Front of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. ] 


Tun cathedral of Nétre Dame, the mother-church of !itbelongs. ‘The site of the church of Notre Dame appears 


France, occupies the south-east corner of the small island 
in the Seine, called the Isle de la Cité, or the Isle du Palais, 
and is consequently almost in the centre of Paris. It is 
a Gothic building, venerable for its antiquity; and ‘also, 
in its architectural character, not destitute either of e'ran- 
deur or beauty, although it cannot be ranked upon the 
i. ars the happiest specimens of the style to which 
OL, il. 


to have been devoted to sacred purposes from very early. 
times. In making some excavations under the choir, in 
March 171], there were found, at the depth of fifteen 
feet below the surface, nine stones bearing inscriptions 
and figures in bas-relief, which seemed to have originally 
formed an altar dedicated conjointly to IXsus, or Eus 
(the Celtic God of Battle and Slaughter), to Jupiler, 


66 


Vulean, Castor, and Pollux. From the circumstance of 
ashes aud incense being still found in the hole where the 
fire had been placed, it was inferred that the altar had 
stood on the same spot where its ruins were discovered. 
It is probable, however, that it stood in the open air ; 
for there is no reason to believe that any Pagan temple 
was ever erected within the bounds of this islet. ‘hese 
sacred edifices among the ancient Gauls were for the 
most part placed outside the towns; and this seems 
clearly to have been the case with those at Paris. The 
first Christian church which Paris possessed was erected 
on or close to the site of the present cathedral. Its 
date is assigned to about the year 375, in the reign of 
Valentinian I. This church was dedicated to St. Ste- 
phen, and it was for a long time the only one in the city. 
About the year 522, Childebert I., the son of Clovis, 
erected another close beside it, which he dedicated to the 
Virgin. ‘The present cathedral may be considered as 
uniting these two churches, covering as it does nearly 
the whole space which they formerly occupied. It was 
beeu to be built, according to some accounts, about the 
year 1010, in the reign of Robert II. surnamed the 
Devout, the son and successor of Hugh Capet; while 
others refer it to the time of Robert's great-great-grand- 
son, Louis VII. or the Young, in the year 1160. It is 
most probable, however, that it was not really com- 
menced till after the accession of Louis’s celebrated son 
aud successor Philip If., usually called Philip Augustus, 
who occupied the throne from 1180 till 1223, The 
work was carried on with the extreme deliberation com- 
mon in those times, in the case of structures which were 
intended for the utmost possible duration ; and it was not 
quite finished till the close of the reign of Philip VI., or 
about the middle of the fourteenth century. 

The principal front of the cathedral of Nétre Dame is 
the west. It consists of three portals, surmounted by a 
pillared gallery, over which again are a great central and 
two side wiadows, from which the principal light for 
the body of the church is derived. Over the windows is 
another gallery supported by columns; from the ex- 
tremities of which rise two towers, 204 feet in height, 
but more remarkable for solidity than elegance. The 
architecture of this front is altogether of a very florid 
description, and presents many erotesque ornaments. 
Originally a flight of thirteen steps used to lead up to 
the doors; but such has been the accumulation of the 
surrounding soil, that it is now considerably higher than 
the floor of the church. The gallery immediately over 
the doors used formerly to contain twenty-eight statues 
of the kingsof France, from Childebert to Philip Augustus 
inclusive ; but these were pulled down and destroyed 
in the early fury of the Revolution. The cathedral, 
indeed, sustained many other injuries besides this in the 
confusion of those times. Of its most ancient and curious 
ornaments, the greater number were carried away 3 nor 
have all the -efforts that have since been made, both by 
Bonaparte and the Bourbons, effected its restoration to 
its former splendour. 

The walls of the cathedral of Nétre Dame are remark- 
ably thick. The dimensions of the interior are, 414 feet 
in leneth by 144 in width. The roof is 102 feet high. 
The columns from which the arches spring by which the 
roof and galleries are sustained amount in all to nearly 
three hundred, and each is formed ofa single block of 
stone. Of forty-eight chapels, which it originally pos- 
sessed, thirty still remain. The choir, and especially the 
altar and the sanctuary in which it is placed, are deco- 
rated in a style of extraordinary richness; and many 
paintings by eminent French artists, some of which are 
of considerabie merit, ornament various parts of the 
church. ‘The regalia of Charlemagne are stil! preserved 
here. ‘The nave or body of the cathedral is singularly 
gloomy; and a considcrable part of its imposing effect 
is probably derived from that circumstance, The view 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(FEBRUARY 23 


from the summit of the towers 1s one of the most com- 
manding in Paris, and embraces the whole city and its 
surrounding villages. 


ow ~~ 


THE ORPHANS. 


I was staying, about ten years since, at a delightful little 
watering-place on the southern coast, which, like many 
other pretty objects, is now ruined by having had its 
beauty praised and decorated. Our party had wandered, 
one sunny afternoon, to an inland village. There was 


amongst us all the joyousness of young hearts; and we — 


laughed and sang, under an unclouded sky, “ as if the 
world would never grow old.” The evening surprised 
us at our merriment; andthe night suddenly came on, 
cloudily, and foreboding a distant storm. We mistook 
our way,—and, after an hour’s wandering through nar- 
row and dimly-lighted lanes, found ourselves on the 
shingly beach. The tide was beginning to flow; but 
a large breadth of ‘shore encouraged us to proceed with- 
out apprehension, as we soon felt satisfied of the direction 
of our home. ‘The ladies of our party, however, began 
to weary; and we were all well nigh exhausted, when 
we reached a little enclosure upon the margin of the 
sea, where the road passed round a single cottage. 
There was a strong light within. I advanced alone, 
whilst my friends rested upon the paling of the garden. 
I looked, unobserved, through the rose-covered window. 
A delicate and graceful young woman was assiduously 
spinning; an iifant lay cradled by her side; and an 
elderly man, in the garb of a fisherman, whose beautiful 
arey locks flowed upon his sturdy shoulders, was gazing 
with a face of benevolent happiness upon the sleeping 


child. I paused one instant, to look upon this tranquil 
scene. Everything spoke of content and innocence. 


Cleanliness and comfort, almost approaching to taste, 
presided over the happy dwelling. I was just going to 
knock, when my purpose was arrested by the young and 
beautiful mother (for so I judged was the female before 
me) singing a ballad, with a sweet voice and a most 
touching expression. [ well recollect the words, for she 
afterwards repeated the song at my request :— 


SONG OF THE FISHER S WIFE. 

Rest, rest, thou gentle sea, 

Like a giant laid to sleep, 
Rest, rest, when day shall flee, 

And the stars their bright watch keep ; 
For kis boat is on thy wave, 

And he must toil and roam, 
Till the flowing tide shall lave 

Our dear and happy home. 


Wake not, thou changeful sea, 
Wake not in wrath and power 
Oh bear his bark to me, 
Kre the darksome midnight lower ; 
For the heart will heave a sigh, 
When the loved one’s on the deep, 
But when angry storms are nigh, 
What can Mary do,—but weer ? 
The bailad ceased; and I entered the cottage. There 
was neither the reality nor the affectation of alarm. he 
instinctive good sense of the young woman saw, at once, 
that I was there for an honest purpose; and the quiet 
composure of the old man showed that apprehension 
was a stranger to his bosom. In two minutes our little 
party were all seated by the side of the courteous, but 
independent fisherman. His-daughter, for so we soon 
learnt the ycung woman was, pressed upon us their 
plain and unpretendinge cheer. Our fatigue vanished 
before the smiling kindness of our welcome; while our 
spirits mounted, as the jug of sound and mellow ale 
refreshed our thirsty lips. The husband of the young’ 
wife, the father of the cradled child, was, we found, 
absent at his nightly toil. The old man seldom now 
partook of this labour. “* His Mary’s husband,” he said, 
‘was an honest and generous fellow ;—~an old fisherman, 


4 





1833.]} THE PENNY 
who had, for five and forty years been roughing it, and, 
* blow high, blow low,’ never shrunk from his duty, had 
earned the privilege of spending his quiet evening in his 
chimney-corner; he took care of the boats and tackle, 
and George was a bold and lucky fellow, and did not 
want an old man’s seamanship. It was a happy day 
when Mary married him, and God bless them and their 
dear child !’ It was impossible for any feeling heart not 
{o unite in this prayer. We offered a present for our 
refreshment, but this was steadily refused. ‘The honest 
old man put us into the nearest path; and we closed a 
day of pleasure as such days ought to be closed,—happy 
in ourselves, and with a kindly feeling to-all our fellow- 
beings, 

During my short residence at the village I have de- 
scribed, I made several visits to the fisherman’s cottage. 
[t was always the same abode of health, and cheerfulness, 
and smiling industry. Once or twice I saw the husband 
of Mary. tHe was an extremely fine young man, pos- 
sessing all the frankness and decision that belong to a 
life of adventure, with a love of domestic occupations, 
and an unvarying gentleness that seerned to have grown 
in a higher station. But ease, and competency, and 
luxurious refinement, are not essential to humanize the 
heart. George had received a better education than a 
life of early toil usually allows. He had been captivated, 
when very young, by the innocent graces of his Mary. 
He was now a father. All these circumstances had 
formed him for a tranquil course of duty and affection. 
His snatches of leisure were passed im his little garden, 
or with his smiling infant. His wife's whole being 
appeared wrapped up in his happiness. She loved him 
with a deep and confiding love; and if her hours of 
anxiety were not unfrequent, there were moments of 
ecstasy in their blameless existence, which made all peril 
and fear as a dim and forgotten dream. 

Seven years had passed over me, with all its various 
changes. One of the light-hearted and innocent beings 
who rejoiced with me in the happiness of the fisherman s 
nest, as we were wont to cali the smiling cottage, was no 
more. [ had felt my own sorrows and anxieties—as 
who has not; and I was in many respects a saddened 
man. I was tempted once again to my favourite water- 
ing-place. Its beauty was gone. I was impatient of 
its feverish noise and causeless hurry ; and I was anxious 
to pass to quieter scenes. A recollection of deep pleasure 
Was, however, associated with the neighbourhood ; and 
I seized the first opportunity to visit the hospitable 
cottage. : f* 

As I approached the green lane which led to the little 
cove, I felt a slight degree of that agitation which gene- 
rally attends the renewal of a long suspended intercourse. 
I pictured Mary and several happy and healthy children ;— 
her husband more grave and careful in his deportment, 
embrowned, if not wrinkled, by constant toil ;—the old 
man, perchance, gone to rest with the thousands of 
happy and useful beings that leave no trace of their path 
on earth. I came to the little carden: it was still neat ; 
less decorated than formerly, but containing many a bed 
of useful plants, and several patches of pretty flowers. 
As I approached the house I paused with anxiety ; but 
I heard the voices of childhood, and I was encouraged 
to proceed. A scene of natural beauty was before me. 
The sun was beginning to throw a deep and yellow 
lustre over the clouds and the sea; the old mansat upon 
a plot of raised turf at the well-known cottage-door ; a 
net was hung up to dry upon the rock behind him; a 
dog reposed upon the same bank as his master; one 
beautiful child of about three years old was climbing up 
ner graudfather’s shoulders ; another of seven or eight 
years, perhaps the very same girl I had seen in the 
cradle, was holding a light to the good old man, who 
was prepared to enjoy his’ evening pipe. 
dently ‘been labouring in his business: his heavy boots 





of the nearer parents. 


He had evi-, 


MAGAZINE: 67 
were yet upon his legs; and he appeared fatiued, 
though not exhausted. I saw neither the husband nor 
the wife. 

It was not long before I introduced myself to the 
‘ancient’ fisherman. He remembered me with some 
difieulty ; but when I brought to his mind the simple 
incidents of our first meeting, and more especially his 
daughter's song, while I listened at the opened casement, 
he wave me his hand, and burst into tears. I soon 
comprehended his sorrows and his blessings. Mary and 
her husband were dead! ‘Their two orphan girls were 
dependent upon their grandsire’s protection. 

The ‘ Song of the Fisher’s Wife’ was true in its fore- 
bodings to poor Mary: her brave husband perished in a 
night of storms. Long did she bear up for the sake of 
her children ; but the worm had eaten into her heart ; 
and she lies in the quiet church-yard, while he has an 
ocean grave | 

Beautiful, very beautiful, is the habitual intercourse 
between age and infancy. The affection of those ad- 
vanced in life for the children of their offspring, is genc- 
rally marked by an intensity of love, even beyond that 
The aged have more ideas in 
common with the young, than the gay, and busy, and 
ambitious can conceive. ‘T’o the holy-minded man, who 
wears his grey locks reverently, the world is presented 
in its true colours: he knows its wisdom to be folly, and 
its splendour vanity : he finds a sympathy in the artless- 
ness of childhood; and its ignorance of evil is to him 
more pleasing than men’s imperfect knowledge, and 
more imperfect practice of good. But the intercourse of 
my poor old fisherman with his two most dear orphans 
was even of a higher order. He forgot his age, and he 
toiled for them: he laid aside his cares, and he played 
with them: he corrected the roughness of his habits, 
and he nursed them with all sweet and tender offices. 
His fears lest they should be dependent upon strangers, 
or upon public support, gave a new spring to his exis- 
tence. He lived his manhood ‘over again in all careful- 

ccupations ; and his hours of rest were all spent with 
his beloved children in his bosom. 

Excellent old man! the blessing of Heaven shall be 
thy exceeding great reward; and when thou art taken 
from thy abode of labour and love to have thy virtue 
made perfect, thou shalt feel, at the moment of parting, 
a deep and holy assurance that the same Providence 
which gave thee the will and the ability to protect the 
infaney of thy orphans, shall cherish and uphold them 
through the rough ways of the world, when thou shalt 
be no longer their protector. 


Gradations of Drunkenness.—There is a Rabbinical tra 
dition related by Fabricius, that when Noah planted the 
vine, Satan attended and sacrificed a sheep, a lion, an ape, 
and asow. These animals were to symbolise the gradations 
of ebriety. When a man begins to drink he is meek and 
ignorant as the lamb; then becomes bold as the lion; his 
courage is soon transformed into the foolishness of the ape ; 
and at last he wallows in the mire like the sow.—/Varton's 
Dissertation on the Gesta Romanorum. 


Salt.—There are many countries on the habitable globe 
where salt has never yet been found, and whose commercial 
facilities being extremely limited, the inhabitants can only 
occasionally indulge themselves with it as a luxury. This 
is particularly the case in the interior of Africa. “ It would, 
says Mungo Park, “ appear strange to an European to see 
a child suck a piece of rock-salt as if it were sugar. This, 
however, I have frequently seen; although the poorer class 
of inhabitants are so very rarely indulged with this precious 
article, that to say that a man eats salt with his provisions, 
‘s the same as saying heis a rich man. I have suffered 
creat inconvenience myself from the scarcity of this article. 
The long use of vegetable food creates so painful a longing 
for salt, that no words can sufficiently describe it.’—Park's 
Travels into the Interior of Africa, a L 


68 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[I’epruary 23, 


THE CASTLE OF EHRENBREITSTEIN. 


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“[ View of Ehrenbreitstein from the Rhine.] 


On the right bank of the Rhine, upon the summit of a 
rocky hill, directly opposite to the city of Coblentz, stands 
the Castle of Ehrenbreitstein (“the broad stone of 
honour’). It is now one of the strongest fortresses in 
Europe, both in respect of its natural position, and its arti- 
ficial defences. It was originally a Roman camp, was 
renovated in 1160, and afterwards repaired and enlarged 
by the Elector John, Margrave of Baden, who dug a 
well of the depth of 280 feet, which was afterwards 
sunk 300 feet further. During the revolutionary war, 
the castle was exposed to many hazards. General Mar- 
ceau blockaded it for 2 month when the French army 
first passed the Rhine, in September 1795. It was 
twice blockaded in 1796, and cannonaded the second 
time from the neighbouring heights of Pfaffendorf and 
Arzheim, without sustaining any injury. The French 
got possession of the height of Rellenkopf, but without 
any further success, and the retreat of General Jourdan 
obliged them to raise the siege. It was again blockaded 
in 1797 by the French General Hoche, who kept it so 
till the peace of Léoben; and in 1798 it was once more 
blockaded by the French, whilst the Congress of Rad- 
stadt was sitting, and was reduced to such a state of 
famine, that the defenders are said to have lived, amone 
other things, upon cats and horse-flesh; cats being sold 
at three francs each, and horse-flesh at a france per 
pound, In spite of the exertions of the commandant, 
Colonel Faber, and his earnest representations to the 
Congress, the castle was left to its fate, and finally surren- 
dered to the French in January 1799. The French 
blew up and otherwise destroyed great part of the 
works; and the view above viven shows it in the state 
to which it was reduced by them. ‘The convention of 
Paris at the termination of the war, in 1815, determined 
to re-establish the fortifications, and Ehrenbreitstein, with 
the adjoining fortifications of the Chartreuse and Peters- 


berg, is now the most important fortress of the German 
frontier. ‘The ancient monastery of the Chartreuse com- 
mands the approaches from Mayence and Hundsruch, 
Petersberg, those of ‘T'réves and Cologne; aud Ehren- 
breitstein, the Rhine and the road from Nassau. The 
form and durability of the new works have been much 
admired. ‘They have been constructed from the plans 
of Montalembert and Carnot, and the castle has received 
the official name of ‘‘ Fort Frederic-William,’ from the 
present King of Prussia. ‘The works are shown to 
visitors, on their obtaining permission of the com- 
mandant. ) 

The view from the summit of the castle is a very rich 
and extensive one. Before you is Coblentz, its bridge of 
boats, and its two islands on the Rhine; behind it, the 
village and the beautiful ruins of the Chartreuse, upon a 
hill covered with vines and fruit-trees. ‘The scope of the 
view embraces more than thirty towns and villages. — 
The Rhine flows majestically beneath it, and is here 
at about the widest part of its course. ‘The space 
of about 120 miles between Mayence and Coloene, in 
which Coblentz stands midway, is that where the Rhine 
is broadest, and its scenery the most picturesque. The 
view of this old castle naturally leads us to reflect on 
the degree in which modern Europe has ceased to re- 
semble the classic ages in which Ehrenbreitstein was 
founded, or the feudal ages to which so much of its 
history belongs. It still bears the name of *‘ the broad 
stone of honour,” though many say that the days of 
honour have passed away with the days of chivalry. 
But if honour, in these times, has become rather a 
synonymous term for honesty and goo faith, than the 
fantastic touchstone of chivalry, we have gained greatly 
by the change. The middle ages were not without 
their virtues, but they were all of a romantic kind. 
In the present times, it is to the inculeation of practical 


t 


1833.] 


morality, the establishment of just laws, and the influence 
of a due sense of the plain and simple truths of religion, 
that we must look for the advancement of integrity and 
virtue among communities. ‘The middle ages were too 
fertile in oppression, in crime, and in misery, to be 
revarded with any thing like regret that their character 
and spirit have not been stamped upon the times in 
which we are living. 


THE HOTTENTOTS. 





< Na 


pr 
oo 4 


\ 


' 





ge pee 
SS, 


Ri 
) 


A 


niirintin 6% 
ee 


a 


{F-om an original drawing of an old Hottentot herdsman—taken 
from life.] 


Mild, melancholy, and sedate, he stands, 

Lending another’s flock upon the fields, 

His father’s once, where now the white man builds 
His home, and issues forth his proud commands. 
tis dark eye flashes not; his listless hands 

Lean on the shepherd’s staff; mo more he wields 
Lhe Libyan bow—but to th’ oppressor yields 
Submissively his freedom and his lands. 

Has he no courage ?—once he had—but, lo! 

Hard servitude hath worn him to the bone. | 

No enterprise ?—alas! the brand, the blow, 

Have humbled him to dust—ev’n hope is gone. 

“ He’s a base-hearted hound—not worth his food”—— 
His master cries—“ he has no grariruvE !” 


WuEN the Dutch began to colonize the southern anele 
of the African continent, about the middle of the seven- 
teenth century, they entered the country as friends, and 
easily obtained from the natives, for a few trinkets and 
flasks of brandy, as much territory as was required for 
their infant settlement. The native inhabitants, after- 
wards known ,by the name of Hotrenrors*, are de- 


“i The name,” says Mr. Barrow, “that has been given to this 
people is a fabrication. Hottentot is a word that has no place or 
meaning in their language; and they take to themselves the name 
wader the idea of its being a Dutch word. Whence it has its deri- 
vation, or by whom it was first given, I have not been able to trace. 
When the country was first discovered, and when they were spread 
over the southern angle of Africa, as an independent people, each 
horde had its particular name; but that by which the collective 
body as a nation was distinguished, and which at this moment they 
bear among themselves in every part of the country, is Quaique,”’ 
-—Barrow's Travels in Southers Africa, vol. i. p. 100, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


69 


scribed by the best authorities as being at that period 
a comparatively numerous people. They were divided 
into many tribes or classes, under the patriarchal rule of 
their respective chiefs or elders: and as they did not, 
like the Caffers. cultivate grain or esculents, their only 
steady occupation was the care of their flocks and herds. 
Enjoying a serene and temperate climate, little clothing 
or shelter was sufficient for their wants. A mantle 
formed of sheep-skins sewed together with threads of 
sinew, and rendered soft and pliable by friction, sufficed 
for a garment by day and a blanket by night. A hut, 
framed of a few boughs or poles covered with rush-mats, 
and adapted to be conveyed like a tent on the backs of 
their pack oxen, was a sufficient protection from the 
weather. A bow and poisoned arrows, and the hieht 
spear or Javelin, now known by the name of assag'al, 
were their only arms, and were used alike for war or the 
chase. They were then (as their descendants continue 
to be) bold and ardént huntsmen ; for, with the formida- 
ble beasts of prey which inhabit the country, they had to 
maintain incessant warfare in defence of their flocks, and 
in contending for the dominion of the desert. They had 
also their quarrels and wars with each other; but these 
appear to have been generally conducted with as moderate 
a degree of bloodshed and ferocity as is to be found 
among any people in a similar state of society. Yet, 
though of a mild and somewhat inert disposition, they 
were by no means deficient in courage. ‘They defeated 
and slew Almeida, the first viceroy of the Portuguese in 
India, in an obstinate engagement at the Salt River, near 
the spot where Cape ‘Town now stands; and in Dr. 
Philip’s valuable ‘ Researches in South Africa’ will be 
found recorded, upon the authority of their Dutch in- 
vaders, acts of bravery and heroic devotion exhibited by 
individuals of this race, scarcely to be surpassed in the 
history of any other people. 

For a considerable period the intercourse between the 
European settlers and the natives continued on an 
amicable footing. ‘The territorial occupation of the coun- 
try was not at first the object of the Dutch East-India 
Company, under whose control the settlement was 
placed; and there was neither mineral wealth nor extra- 
ordinary fertility of soil, to tempt the forcible appro- 
priation of native Jabour in a way similar to what 
occurred in the West Indies, Mexico, and Pern. At 
length, however, the Dutch settlers discovered that 
though the country farnished neither gold nor silver, 
nor any of the much prized tropical products, it was well 
adapted for the culture of corn and wine, and for the 
rearing of flocks’ and herds, almost without limit. Emj- 
grants accordingly began to flock to South Africa; and 
the “ white man’s stride*,” with or without the nominal 
acquiescence of the natives, was gradually extended. 
After the lapse of a century and a half, the European 
intruders had acquired possession of nearly the whole of 
the extensive region now embraced by the colonial boun- 
dary, including the entire country inhabited by the 
Hottentot race, with the exception of the arid deserts 
which afford a refuge to the wandering Namacqua and 
Bushman hordes, and which are too sterile and desolate 
to excite the cupidity of any class of civilized men. 

But it was not the soil of their country merely of 
which the Hottentots were deprived in the course of 
these encroachments. In losing the property of the 
soil, they also gradually lost the privilege of occupying 
even the least valuable tracts of it for pasturing their 
flocks and herds—their only means of subsistence. 
People without land could have no occasion for cattle— 
no means of supporting them. ‘Their flocks and herds, 


* The usual mode of measuring out a new farm, during the 
Dutch occupation, was for the Vedd-wagt-Aleester of the district to 
stride, or pace, the ground; and half an houv’s stride in each diree 
tion from the centre, or one hour’s walk across the Ve/d (country* 
was the regulated extent of the farms.—See Barrow, yol.1. p. 29. 


70 


accordingly, also passed by dewrees into the possession of 
the colonists. “ Nothine then remained of which to 
plunder them save the property of their own persons ; 
and of that, the most sacred and unalienable of all pro- 
perty, they were also at length virtually deprived. ‘The 
laws enacted by the Dutch Home Government, it is true, 
did not permit the Hottentots to be publicly sold, from 
owner to owner, as negro slaves and other farm stock 
were sold (and are still sold) in the same colony ; but by 
the colonial laws and usages they were actuaily deprived 
of a right to their own labour, and reduced to a condition 
of degradine, grinding, and hopeless bondage, in some 
respects even more intolerable than colonial slavery of the 
ordinary description. 

Le Vaillant has given a very lively, and upon the 
whole, ajust and accurate description of the Hottentots 
in their wild or semi-nomadic state. Mr. Barrow has 
described, in a less ambitious style, but with equal force 
and accuracy, their character and condition as he found 
them at a somewhat later period (1797), after they had 
been as a people generally subdued under the colonial 
yoke; and he exposes, with a warmth which does honour 
to his feelings, the iniquitous and inhuman conduct of 
their Kuropean oppressors. ‘l'o cnable the reader pro- 
perly to understand the situation of this people at the 
present time, we must give a brief view of them when 
Mr. Barrow was Auditor-General of Public Accounts at 
the Cape in 1798,—and this we cannot do in any other 
form so well as in that writer’s own words. 

After mentioning the comparative happiness and more 
numerous population of the Hottentots in their inde- 
pendent state, which in the eastern part of the colony 
existed so late as to about twenty years before the period 
of his travels, Mr. Barrow thus proceeds :— 

‘““ Some of these villages might have been expected to 
remain in this remote and not very populous part of the 
colony. Not one, however, was to be found. There is 
not, in fact, in the whole extensive district of Graaff- 
Reynet, a single horde of independent Hottentots; and 
perhaps not a score of individuals who are not actually 
in the service of the Dutch. ‘These weak people, the 
most helpless, and in their present condition perhaps the 
most wretched, of the human race, duped out of their 
possessions, their country, and their liberty, have en- 
tailed upon their miserable offspring a state of existence to 
which that of slavery might bear the comparison of hap- 
piness. It is a condition, however, not likely to continue 
to a very remote posterity. ‘heir numbers of late years 
have been rapidly on the decline. It has generally been 
observed that wherever Enropeans have colonized, the 
less civilized nations have always dwindled away, and at 
length totally disappeared.” After specifying some other 
causes wluch he imagines may have contributed to the 
depopulation of the Hottentots, Mr. Barrow proceeds :— 
“To these may be added their extreme poverty, scan- 
tiness of food, and continual dejection of mind, arising 
from the cruel treatment they receive. 

‘‘ There is scarcely an instance of cruelty said to have 
been committed against the slaves in the West-Indian 
islands, that could not find a parallel from the Dutch 
farmers of the remote districts of the colony towards the 
Hottentots in their service. Beating and cutting with 
thongs of the hide of the sea-cow (hippopotamus) or 
rhinoceros are only gentle punishments, though these 
sort of whips, which they call sjambocs, are most hornd 
instruments, being tough, pliaut, and heavy almost as 
lead. Firing small shot into the legs and thighs of a 
Hottentot, is a punishment not unknown to some of the 
monsters who inhabit the neighbourhood of Camtoos 
River. 

* By a resolution of the old government, as unjust as it 
was Inhuman, a peasant (colonist) was allowed to claim 
as his property, tll the age of five and twenty, all the 
children of the Hottentots in his service to whom he had 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[FeBRUARY 23, 


given in their infancy a morsel of meat. At the expira- 
tion of this period the odds are ten to one that the slave 
is not emancipated. But should he be fortunate enough 
to escape at the end of this period, the best part of lis 
life has been spent in a profitless servitude, and he is 
turned adrift without any thing he can call his own, ex- 
cept the sheep’s-skin on his back.” Again, speaking of 
‘those Hottentots living with the farmers of Graaff 
Reynet in a state of bondage,” Mr. Barrow adds, “ it is 
rare to observe the muscles of his face relaxed into a 
smile. A depressed melancholy and deep gloom con- 
stantly overspread his countenance. 

‘‘ Low as they are sunk,” he continues, “ in the scale 
of humanity, their character seems to,have been generally 
much traduced and misrepresented. It it true there are 
hot many prepossessing features in the appearance of a 
Hottentot, but many amiable and good qualities have 
been obscured by the ridiculous and false accounts with 
which the world has been abused. 
qwuet, and timid people ; perfectly harmless, honest, and 
faithful; and, though extremely phleematic, they are 
nevertheless kind and affectionate to each other, and by 
no means incapable of strong attachments. A Hottentot 
will at any time share his last morsel with his com- 
panons. They seldom quarrel among themselves or 
make use of provoking language. They are by no 
means deficient in talent, but they possess little exertion 
to call it into action.” [How could we expect exertion 
irom men in the condition deseribed ?] 

“The person of a Hottentot while young is by no 
means devoid of symmetry. ‘They are cleam-limbed, well- 
proportioned, and erect. ‘Their hands, their feet, and all 
their joints are remarkably small. Their cheek-bones are 
high and prominent, and with the narrow-pointed chin 
form nearly a triangle. The nose is in some remarkably 
flat, in others considerably raised.- The colour of the 
eye is a deep chesnut; and the eyelids at the extremity 
next the nose, instead of forming an anele, as in Euro- 
peans, are rounded into each other exactly like those: of 
the Chinese, to-whom indeed in many other points. they 
bear a physical resemblance that is sufficiently striking. 
Their teeth are beautifully white. ‘The colour of the 
skin is that of a yellowish brown, or a faded leaf, but 
very different from the sickly hue of a person in the 
jaundice which it has been deseribed to resemble: many 
indeed are nearly as white as Europeans. Some of 
the women, when young, are so well formed that they 
inight serve as models of perfection in the human figure. 
Every jomt and limb is rounded and well turned, and 
their whole body is without an angle or disproportionate 
protuberance. ‘heir hands and feet are small and deli- 
cately turned; and their edit is not deficient in easy 
and graceful movements. Their charms, however, are 
very fleeting.” He then describes their ugliness gene- 
rally at a more advanced age. ; 

Such, with the omission of some details, is the descrip- 
tion of the Hottentots given by Mr. Barrow in his very 
instructive and able work on South Africa. ‘To its accu- 
racy in almost every point the writer of this notice can 
bear witness; and his object in introducing it here is 
partly with a view to counteract the exaggerated notions 
that still generally prevail in England respecting the 
physical deformity and moral debasement of this long 
oppressed and calumniated race of men; and partly to 
enable the reader fully to appreciate the wretchedness of 
the condition from which they have been at Jength raised 
by the tardy justice of the British government. Four 
years and a half ago, namely in July 1828, the Hot- 
tentot Helots of the Cape, 30,000 in number, were eman- 
cipated from their long and grievous thraldom, and ad- 
mitted by law to all the rights and privileges, civil and 
political, of the white colonists. ‘Their actual condition 
just before this important change took place, (of which 
| the present writer had personally the very best opportu- 


They are a mild, ~ 








: 


1833.) 


nities of judging upon the spot,) and their progress since, 
-n morals, religion, and industry—in all that distinguishes 
the civilized from the savage state of man,—will form 
the subject of a subsequent article. _ 


SIMPLIFICATIONS OF ARITHMETICAL RULES. 
No. 3. 


We will now suppose a daily sum to be given, of which 
we require to know the amount ina year. If the daily 
sum consist only of pence and farthings, the rule is ex- 
tremely simple, as follows:—Suppose I wish to know 
how much seventeen-pence three farthines per day will 
give ina year. ' Let every penny be turned into a pound, 
and every farthing into five shillings which gives £17. 15s. 
Halve this, which gives £8. 17s, Gd. Now let every 
penny be a sixpence, and every farthing three half-pence, 
which gives £0. 8s. 103d. Add the three together— 





£. s. d. 

17 ia 0 
817 6 
0 § 103 

27 1 4L 


This is too much by one day’s allowance; subtract there- 
fore one day's allowance, or !s. 52d., and the result is 
£26. 19s. 102d. which is quite correct. 

This rule is founded on the accidental circumstance 
that the number of days in a year being made up of 
240, the half of 240, and 5, every penny per day gives a 
pound, half a pound, and 5 pence per year. 

When the number of pounds, shillings, and pence is too 
great to be conveniently reduced to pence, proceed as 
follows:—Take the pounds and shillings only, convert 
the shillings as in No. | of this series; that is, divide by 
2, and if there be a remainder, write a 5 after the quo- 
tient. ‘Thus, if the daily sum be £2. 7s. 82d. take £2. 7s. 
only, which converted, gives 235. Annex ciphers, so 
that there shall always be jzve places besides the pounds. 
This gives 235,000. (Had it been £2. 8s. we should 
have had 240000, with four ciphers.) Divide 235000 by 
4, which gives 58750; cut off one cipher from the divi- 
dend, which gives 23500; do this again, which gives 
2390; halve this, which gives 1175; add the four 
together; so that the process stands thus :— 


4)235000 


58750 
23900 
2350 
1175 


85775 
Cut off the two last places, 75, and reconvert them into 
shillings by multiplying the first figure by 2, and adding 
1 if the second figure be 5, as in the present case. 
This gives 15 shillings. Let all the remaining. figures 
be pounds, which gives £857. 15s. the correct amount 
of £2. 7s. per dayina year. For the 8 pence 3 farthings 
which ts left, proceed as in the first example. We give 








mes. id. 
8 15 0 
hdd . . 4 7 6 
4 41 
13 6 104 
‘Subtract 83 
At 82d. per day 13 6 12. 
At £2. %s, per day 857 15 0 
871 1 13 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, ve 


which is the amount of the whole. The reader must 
not imagine that he will work the first example by this 
as quick as by the common method, but when he 
thoronehly knows the rule, he will not only work more 
quickly, but with munch less chance of error. There are 
very few people who can multiply a number of pounds, 
shillings, pence, and farthings by.365 correctly, in any 
reasonable time. 

Ifit be judged sufficiently accurate to solve the question 
within a few shillings, the method for pounds, shillings, 
and pence may be used as follows, which will always 
give the result within 8 shillings:—Convert the shillings, 
pence, and farthings, as in No. 1, and pnt ciphers, so as 
to make jive places besides the pounds. Thus, for 
£2. 7s. 83d. we have 238600; for £190. 17s. 6d. we 
have 19087500; for £17. 10s. we have 1750000. 
With this, follow exactly the second process in this 
paper ; we here give the one for £2. 7s, 88d.— 


4)238600 


59650 
20860 
2386 
1193 


87089 
Cut off the two last places, and annex a cipher, which 
gives 890; convert these into shillings and pence by 
No. 1, which gives 17s. 92d.: make the other figures 
pounds, which gives £870. 17s. 93d., which is within 4 
shillings of the truth. 
We shall proceed in our next to the reverse process. 


ea A: ny 


NEWSPAPERS. 


SOME centuries back by far the greater proportion of the 
middle classes in this country were wholly ignorant of 
passing public events, while the working classes seldom 
inquired about anything beyond their immediate callings. 

How much we are advanced as a nation in this respect 
may be seen from the following statement. 

The first attempt at periodical literature was made 
in England in the reign of Elizabeth. It was in the 
shape of a pamphlet, called the ‘ English Mercurie ;’ the 
first number of which, dated 1588, is still preserved in 
the British Museum. ‘There were, however, no news- 
papers which appeared in England in single sheets of 
paper as they do at present, until many years after that 
time. ‘The first newspaper, called ‘ The Public Intelli- 
gencer,’ was published by Sir Roger L’Estranee, on the 
3ist August, 1661. Periodical pamphlets, which had 
become fashionable in the reign of Charles I., were more 
rare in the reign of James Il. The English rebellion of 
1641 gave rise to a great number of tracts filled with 
violent appeals to the public: many of these tracts bore 
the title of Diurnal Occurrences of Parliament. The 
first Gazette in England was published at Oxford, on 
November 7th, 1665, the court being then held there. 
On the removal of the court to London, the titie was 
altered to The London Gazette. The Orange Intelli- 
gencer was the third newspaper published, and the first 
after the revolution in 1688. ‘This latter continued to 
be the only daily newspaper in England for some years; 
but in 1690 there appear to have been nine London 
newspapers published weekly. In Queen Anne's reign 
(in 1709) the number of these was increased to eighteen; 
but still there continued to be but one daily paper, which 
was then called The London Courant. In the reign of 
George I. the number was three daily, six weekly, and 
ten published three times in the week. 

In 1753 the number of copies of newspapers annually 
published in the whole of England was 7,411,757; in 
1760 the circulation had increased to 9,404,790; and 


1 in 1830 it amounted to 30,493,941]. } 


72 


The following Table shows the advance of news- 
papers during half acentury.— 

















Newspapers published in. . | 1782 7 1790 | 1821 | 1833 
0) 50 60 135 248 
eee glk ll lle 8 Aiea 31 46 
elgg lw lll 3 27 o0) 75 

Total of the United Kingdom . 61 | 114 | 216 369 





Of the 369 newspapers now published in the United 
Kingdom, the following is the division :— 
In ENGLAND: 


Daily, in London . . ce se) we 6 
Two or three times a week . « »©« © © e« -¢ 6 
Onceaweek . . . © 8« 6 hell 


Country newspapers . . : . 180 
British Islands :—Guernsey, Jersey, and-Man, — 


of which are twice a week, eleven weekly) . 13 
In Scornanp: 
Twice and three timesaweek . . . 2... 215 


Weekly. 5: i i a ee er ee 


In IRELAND: 





In Dubhn, five daily ;—seven three times a week it 18 
—six weekly . . oe Mw sw lk 
Rest of Ireland, thirty-five three times or twice 2 57 
week ;—twenty-two weekly . * . . . : 
369 
HANDEL. se 


On the 24th, or, according to the inscription on his 
monument, the 23d. of February, was born at Halle, in 
Lower Saxony, the great musical composer, George 
I'rederic Handel. -I1is father was a physician, and 
was desirous of educating his son for the law; but from 
his earliest years the boy showed a passion for miusic, 
which nothing was able to overcome. ~ Forbidden to touch 
a-musical instrument, he would spend the greater part of 
the night, after the rest of the family were asleep, in prac- 
tising upon a small-clavichord,- which he kept concealed in 
a garret; and in this way he attained such proficiency, 
that having, while yet a mere child, contrived to steal an 
opportunity of playing on -the church organ before the 
court at Saxe Weisenfels, he surprised and charmed all 
who, heard him with-the excellence of his performance. 
On this his father, prevailed, upon by the request of the 
duke, consented to allow him ‘to adopt the profession for 
which he seemed destined by nature. He was then 
placed under the care of a master, and profited so greatly 
by the regular instruction which he now received, that 
he was soon able to preside as leader of the choral ser- 
Vices in the cathedral. When he first used, occasionally, 
to undertake this duty he was no more than nine years 
of age. He had also already begun to exercise his 
genius and theoretical knowledge as a composer, -with 
striking success. When in his nineteenth year he re- 
paired to Hamburgh, and there obtained an engagement 
in the orchestra of the opera. On the 30th of December, 
1704, he brought out at that theatre his ‘ Almira,’ his first 
opera, and, in the February following, his ‘ Nero.’ These 
works, and his other professional exertions, at leneth 


brought him a sufficient sum of money to enable him to | 


eratify his desire of making a journey to Italy. From 
that country, after having visited in. succession, Florence, 
Venice, Naples, and Rome, he retured to Germany in- 
1710, and soon after, on tlie invitation of several persons 
of distinction in England, came over here. The recep- 
tion which he met with induced him to make this 
country his home for the rest of his life. Queen Anne 
granted him a pension of £200; and that sum was 
augmented when George I. came to the throne. His 
first great patron was the Earl of Burlington, with whom 
he resided from 1715 till 1718; when he accepted 
from the Duke of Chandos the appointment of director 
of the choir which that nobleman had established at his 
seat at Cannons. In 1720 the Royal Academy of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


[Fzepruary 23, 1833 


Music was instituted, and Handel placed at its head. 
His own compositions were the pieces principally per- 
formed; but a violent quarrel with some of the other 
musicians broke up the institution after it had subsisted 
only for ten years—a period which has been characterized 
as the most splendid era of music in England. The next 
great event in Handel’s life was the production of his 
master-effort, the oratorio of the Messiah, which he 
brought out in 1741. ‘This magnificent composition 
was somewhat coldly received on its first representation : 
but it soon came to be more correctly appreciated; and 
it has long ranked in the estimation of all competent 
judges as one of the most sublime works in the whole 
range of music. It deserves to be mentioned as an 
instance of Handel's liberality, that on the opening of 
the F’oundling Hospital, he not only presented an organ 
to the chapel, but gave the institution the benefit of a 
performance of his ‘ Messiah’ conducted by himself, and 
repeated the same kindness for several years. He also 
bequeathed the music of this oratorio to the hospital at his 
death. That event took place on the 14th of April 
1759, when the illustrious musician was in the seventy- 
sixth year of Ins age. ‘He had been for some time 
before wholly blind. -In 1784, a century after his birth, 
a commemoration of Handel was performed in West- 
minster Abbey, where his remams had been interred; 
it was one of the grandest musical displays ever wit- 
nessed in any country. ‘The music was all selected from 
his own works; and the vocal: aud instrumental per- 
formers together, were five hundred and .twenty-five in 
number. The king and queen and a large proportion 
of the nobility attended ; and the whole number of per- 
sols present was not much under four thousand. The 
performance lasted for four days, namely, the 26th and 
29th of May, and the 3d and 5th of June. It was 
annually repeated, for six years in the same place, and 
after that for a year.or two in St. Margaret's Church. 
One celebration of it also took place in the Chapel Royal 
at Whitehall, which was the last. — 


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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, . 


Printed by Wiuttam Crowes, Stamford Street. 


MionthlIy Supplenient of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 





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[Front of the Mint from Tower Hill.] 


On the north-east side of Tower Hill is situated the 
building erected some years since from the designs, and 
under the direction of Mr. Smirke, for conducting the 
business of the coinage, which was at that time removed 
from the Tower. “The ‘Royal, or National Mint,” it 
is stated in the ‘ Memoirs of the Tower,’ by Britton and 
Brayley, “ was formerly an appendage to the Tower, and 
appears to have been established there in or before the 
time of Edward I.,- when, according to Madox, there 
were no less than thirty furnaces employed. ‘The pri- 
vilege of coining was frequently granted to corporate 
and ecclesiastical bodies, and to private noblemen ; which 
Occasloling great inconvenience, it was enacted in the 
tine of Queen Elizabeth, that all the provincial mints 
should be suppressed, and no coinage allowed but at the 
toyal Mint, in the Tower. his law, with the ex- 
ceptions of two cases of emergency, in the times of 
Charles the First and William the Third, was observed 
until about tweity years ago.” Tn cousequence, then, of 
the vast increase of business in this department, arising 
from the augmented population of the country, and 
other causes, the Goverment gave orders for the erection 
of the present edifice. It is a handsome structure, in the 
Greciau style of architecture, having a centre and wings, 
and an elevation of three stories. ‘The centre is orna- 
mented with columns, (over which is a pediment contaiu- 
ing’ the British arms,) and the wing's with pilasters. The 


roof is enclosed by an elegant balustrade. The prin- | 


Vou, It, 


cipal cfiicers of the establishment are provided with 
houses on each side of the building, which, being of 
brick, do not harmonize with the principal edifice. ‘The 
interior is lighted with gas, and every advantage deriva- 
ble from inechanical contrivance has beeu here introduced 
to facilitate the operation of coinage; but no visitor is 
admitted to inspect the works without a special order 
from the Master of the Mint, which office is at present 
held by the Right Hon. Lord Auckland. 


THE NATIONAL GALLERY. 


We have, from time to time, published remarks on the 
more important of the pictures forming the Angerstein, 
or National Gallery, to which the public have free 
access. As many of our readers are aware, Parliament 
has voted a sum for the erection of a more suitable build- 
ing for their exhibition ; and we may therefore properly 
give a brief account of the formation of this collection, 
and of the advantages which are contemplated by the 
proposed expenditure of public money upon this object. 
The establishment of a National Gallery of Paintings 
to which, as public property, every individual should 
have free admission, was an event hailed with pleasure 
not only by the lovers of art, but by every man who 
felt for the nonour of his country. It was a humiliating 
reflection that London was the only capital in Europe 
not possessed of such an institution, and that every 


L 


74 


other nation had preceded us in the just. appreciation of 
the Fine Arts, whether considered as a meaus of com- 
mercial advantage by the improvement of: mauufactures 
consequent on their cnitivation, or as a source of social 
_ yefinement and intellectual .pleasure. . Until.a very re- 
cent period English history presents us with a dead 
blank in whatever relates to the Fine Arts. 
nent foreign painters had at intervals found employment 
here, but no public gallery, nor institution of any: kind, 
had been established, tending to the formation of public 
taste, or to stimulate and direct the talents of native ar- 
tists. During the earlier part of the reign of George IIT., 
however, much was done with the intention of promoting 


the progress of the Fine Arts; and it is not improbable | 


that a National Gallery would have been established 
the time of that monarch, but for the great 
which agitated Europe, and which absorbed 
public attention, to the exclusion of all minor consi- 
derations, After the general peace Government found 
itself more at leisure for domestic improvement, and we 
are indebted to the administration of Lord Liverpool 
for the accomplishment of the desirable object of the 
establishment of a National Gallery. In the year 1823 
the fine collection of Mr. Angerstein was, in coise- 


during’ 
events 


quence of his death, offered for public sale, and Govern- | 


ment determined to avail itself of the opportunity to 
commence the formation of a public collection In the 
choice of his pictures Mir. Angerstein had availed him- 
self of the judgments of the most distinguished artists 
of the day—of Sir Thomas Lawrence, and Mr. West 
particularly ; and the collection, although not numerous, 
being of unquestionable excellence, was considered to be 
well calculated to form the nucleus of a National Gal- 
lery. ‘The proposition of his Majesty’s ministers met 
with the prompt acquiescence of Parliament, and a 
crant was made of £57,000, the price demanded for the 
collection, which comprised thirty-eight pictures by the 
most eminent masters. In the session of 1825 a far- 
ther sum of 14 or £15,000 was voted unanimously for 
the purchase of four pictures, in addition to those of 
Mr. Angerstein. ‘The management of the establishment 
was intrusted, in the first instance, to the Marquis of 
Stafford, Lord Farnborough, Sir George Beaumont, 
and Sir Thomas Lawrence; since the death of the tia 
latter, Lord Dover has been added to the list. 

It was conjectured that the National Gallery would 
become enriched by gifts and bequests of fine works of 
art, presented from time to time by liberal and patriotic 
individuals. Nor has this expectation been disappointed. 
for the first example in the shape of donation the pnblic 
is indebted to Sir George Beaumont, Bart. ‘his een- 
tleman, although not a professor, was distineuished by 
his practical talents in painting; he was a liberal patron 
of the arts, and his taste and judement are evinced in the 


clloice of those pictures, sixteen in number, of which he | 


made a free gilt to the National Gallery. His example 


was followed by a munificent bequest of thirty-two pic- | 


tures of a very high class by the Rev. Holwell Carr; and 
an addition of tweuty other paiutings has been made, 
presented by different individuals, or purchased by Go- 
vernmeut. Among the recent donors of pictures to the 
National Gallery are to be enumerated—his Majesty, 
the Governors of the British Institution, the Marquis 
or Stafford, the Earl of Liverpool, Lord Farnborough, 
G. J. Cholmondely, Esq., M. M. Zachary, Esq., the 
Rev. William Lone, and William Wilkins, Esq. 

"That there is no natural inaptitude in the English 
people for the Fine Arts is evident from the fact that the 
importation of pictures into this country began almost 
with the resuscitation of the arts in Italyin 1500, and 
has ever simce been continned almost without inter- 
mission. But the works thus imported, not having been 
cousigned, as is usually the case on the Continent, to 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


Some eini- | 


| with beauty, either In arrangement or in colour. 


[F'rseruary 28, 


only.by accidental visits to the residences of noblemen 
aud gentlemen who possess those treasures of art, that 
we obtain an idea of the almost boundless wealth of the 
country in this particular. We think it not hazarding 
too much to say that there is a greater number of fine 
pictures in England than in all the other countries of 
Murope together; and we doubt not that the National 
Gallery will, in process of time, through Government 
purchases, gifts, and bequests, exhibit the mest splendid 
collection of pictures which has ever been accumulated 
in one establishment. The collection at present consists 
of one hundred and ten pictures. 

Next to the acquisition of these fine pictures, it is a 
subject of congratulation that Parliament has given its 
sanction for the erection of a building calculated for 
their proper display, and worthy, we trust, to be called 
a National Gallery. The estimated expense of the 
building is £50,000. It will be 461 feet in leneth and 
596 feet in width, and it will consist of a centre and two 
wings. It is to be built on the northern side of the 
large open space at Charing-Cross. ‘The western wing, 
it is said, will contain on the ground-floor rooms for the 
reception of records; above will be the picture gallery 
divided into four apartments; and the length of wall as- 
signed for the hanging of pictures will be at least 700 
feet. ‘This would admit three or four times as many 
pictures as the premises where they now are, so that 
abundant room will be left for new pictures, whenever 
they may be obtained, either by gift or purchase. 

The eastern wing, of similar extent, will contain, on 
the ground-floor, a hall of casts, the library and council 
room of the Royal Academy, and a dwelling for the 
keeper, 

We have already adverted to the commercial advan- 
tages of the general cultivation of a love for the Fine 
Arts. It has been thought by some that we have be- 
stowed too much attention upon these subjects in this 
publication. Our principal object has been to raise the 


| standard of national taste, and open new sources of 


individual enjoyment ;——but we bee to direct onr readers 
to the following statement regarding the silk manufac- 
tures of Lyons, for the purpose of showing the direct 
importance of such subjects to the intelligent artisan—to 
him whose business is to unite elegance and usefulness. 

Lhe cultivation of taste, as applicable to the manufac- 
ture of fancy goods, is made an object of much greater 
attention in France than in ungland. French silks excel 
ours in the beauty of their patterns rather than in the 
quality of their texture. Up tothe period in which the 
pattern is produced, our neignbours have greatly the 
advantage over us; they can claim no superiority after 
the pattern. is produced, or, in other words, “‘ when the 
machine gets possession of the design.” 

Dr. Bowring, in his evidence before a Select Coin- 
mittee of the House of Commons on the Silk Trade, 
states that he was extremely surprised at finding among 
every body connected with the production of patterns, 
inchiding weavers and their children, an attention 
devoted to every thing which was in any way connected 
Hie 
mentions having again and again seen the weavers 
walking abont gathering flowers in the fields and 
arrauging then. in their most attractive grouping. 
‘hese artisans are constantly suggesting to their masters 
improvements in their designs ; and, it is said that, in 
almost every case where the manufacturer has had great 
success there is always some individual i the factory 
who is the inventor of beautiful patterns. 

We do not possess in England the same means of 
developing taste which the; have in K'rance. ‘There the 
beauty of the designs is not left to the chance aptitude of 
individuals employed. ‘The invention of patterns for 
fancy silks is treated as an object of so great importance, 


public galleries, little has been known of them; and it is] that in Lyons @ sehool of art is established expressly for 


/ 


1533,] 


that purpose, aud placed immediately under the pro- 
tection of Government as well as of the municipal autho- 
rities of the city. Itis supported principally out of the 
funds of the city, assisted by an annual grant from 
Government; the students are instructed gratuitously. 
Any youth who shows the least aptitude for drawing, 
or for any other pursuit which may tend to the iinprove- 
ment of the manufacture, is gladly admitted into this 
establishinent. From one hundred and fifty to one hun- 
dred and eighty students, and sometimes as many as 
two hundred at one time, receive the benefit of instrue- 
tions here given in every braiich pertaining to the Fine 
Arts. Five or six professors are attached to thus school. 
The professor of painting is a man highly distinguished 
in the world ofart. A number of the pupils are engaged 
in the study of anatomy. Many students are engaged 
in the delineation of the living human form. “ I found,” 
says Dr. Bowring, “a very beautiful child of three or 
fonr years old with thirty or forty students sitting round 
it.’ In another department the professor of archi- 
tecture directs the studies of some of the pupils; he 
makes them intimately acquainted with every variation 
of the different styles, and it is his principal aim to pre- 
vent their confusine these ohe with the other. The 
knowledge of architecture is considered of importance 
for the invention of patterns of a stiff and formal cha- 
racter; as by this means their ornaments are correct 
and appropriate. A botanical professor has thirty or 
forty boys under him, engaged in copying the most 
beautiful flowers. A botanical garden is attached to the 
school. The most tasteful grouping of flowers is made 
an object of attention. A general professor of drawing 
gives instruction in landseape, and, in fact, in all the 
departments of art which can in any way be made 
available to the production of tasteful things. ‘The 
object of another professor is to show the young men 
how their productions may be rendered applicable to 
the manufactures; that is to say, how, by machinery, 
they can produce on a piece of silk cloth that which they 
have drawn ona piece of paper. The students receive 
a course of five years’ instruction in this school; they 
are supplied with every thing but*the materials on which 
they work, and their productions are regarded as their 
own property. 

The French manufacturer considers that his pattern 
is the principal element on which he is to depend for 
his success ; the mere art of manufacturing may be easily 
effected. He goes therefore to this “ taste-producing ” 
school, where he may select, from nearly two hundred 
boys, one whose taste is most distinguished ; that boy is 
admitted into his house, probably at a small salary. The 
student thus taken out of the school soon obtains 1000 
francs, or about £40 per annum. If his success is great 
his salary is increased to 2000, and then 3000 frances; and 


very often the offer of partnership is made to those who | 


have particularly distinguished themselves in their branch 
of the art. It is said that a great number of the most 
prosperous manufacturers of Jsyons were originally 
students of this school. 'Thus all the painters, all the 
sculptors, and all the botanists at yous become manu- 
facturers, and searcely ever go out of the manufacturing 
circle, ‘They receive the best instruction gratuitously, 
and are then at once qualified to earn their subsistence. 
By applyimg their talents to the production of patterns 
they are almost sure of a certain means of advancement ; 
and thus there are few who are tempted into the higher 
walks’ of art where they would have to strugele with 
difficulty and uncertainty. , 

Lhe inventive powers of the designer are in constant 
requisition in France, as but comparatively few pieces of 
one pattern are manufactured. It is stated on good 
authority that the greatest number of pieces of the most 
approved pattern never exceeds one hundred—the aver- 
age number is considered to be about twenty-five. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


wre 


CARTOONS, &e¢.—No. 3, 
“THE DEATH OF ANANIAs. 


Tue judgment of Raffaelle is evinced as much in the 
choice of his subjects as in his manner of treating them. 
He seizes invariably on the leading points both of the 
general and the particular narrative, and the Cartoons 
may be said to furnish a compendium of the early 
history of the promulgation of the Christian faith. In 
the cartoon of “ Peter receiving the Keys,” Cliist 
delivers his last charge to his disciples; in that of “ Paul 
preaching,” we see that the divine mission is carried into 
efiect. St. Paul, however, appears at Athens only as 
the inspired preacher; but the superhuman attributes 
with which the disciples were invested after the death 
of Christ, are more strikingly exhibited in the cartoons 
of “the Healing the Cripple,” “‘Elymas the Sorcerer,” 
and ‘the Death of Ananias.’” Here the Apostles act 
more obviously with the authority of divine power ; and 
the miracles which they perform illustrate the tenets 
and attest the truth of their doctrine. The consolation 
ald relief announced to the poor and the afflicted are 
given to-the cripple who is healed at the gate of the 
temple; whilst the penalties denounced on sin are exem- 
plified in the puttiishments inflicted on Elymas, and on 
Ananias. 

After the miraculous preaching on the day of Pente- 
cost, and the astonishing cure of the cripple by St. 
Peter, proselytism increased rapidly, and converts came 
over in multitudes. These primitive Christians em- 
braced in the largest and most literal sense the benevo- 
lent and self-denying principles of the new creed; 
laying their goods at the feet of the Apostles, “they 
were of one heart and of one soul, and had all thing's in 
common. ‘These events form the groundwork of the 
cartoon of the Death of Ananias. ‘The Apostles are 
collected beneath a spacious but humble roof, suited to 
the humility of their temporal pretensions; as preachers 
and instructors they stand on an elevated platform, 
which gives them their due place and importance in the 


| composition; but to obviate the appearance of mere 


homeliness and meanness, this enclosure is hung with 
a sight drapery, and enclosed by a railing. On the 
right, groups of converts are entering, bearing offerings 
of various descriptions, which the Apostles are dis- 
tributing on the opposite side to various applicants. 
Among the proselytes came Ananias, a calculating and 
sordid spirit, who was willing to purchase the advantages 
of the new communion, but unable to resist the insti- 
gations of habitual avarice. He had sold a piece or 
land, the value of which he professes to offer to the 
Apostles; but while pretending to give the whole in 
the spirit of sincere and voluntary devotion, he cunningly 
secretes a part. The doom which awaits him, how- 
ever, is not inflicted merely as the punishment of his 
avarice, nor even of the simple falsehood, but for the 
cratuitous hypocrisy and sanctimonious pretension which 
Christ himself had so earnestly and repeatedly denounced, 
and which, in this instance, was attempting to make its 
way over the threshold of his infant church. by the 
immediate inspiration of God, the Apostle detects the 
enilt of Ananias, and pronounces his doom. “ Was 
not the land thine own,” said St. Peter to him, “ and 
after it was sold, was it not in thine own power? ‘Thou 
hast lied not unto men, but unto God! And Ananias, 
hearing these words, fell down, and gave up the ghost.”’ 
There is not in the whole round of Raffaelle’s works any 
thing more strikingly just, appropriate, and energetic, 
whether in relation to action, character, or expression, 
than his representation of tins event. Were we un- 
acquainted with the subject, it would be impossible to 
mistake its general meaning. ‘The authoritative attitude 
of St. Peter, his stern expression, the extended arm and 
uplifted finger, convey at once the impression that he 1s 


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giving utterance to some terrible denunciation ; while 
the Apostles behind, with hands folded, or pointed to- 
wards Heaven, acknowledge, with devout astonishment, 
the manifest interposition of divine justice. ‘The position 
of Ananias is a wonderful example of Raffaelle’s intuitive 
perception, or of his acute observation of actual fact, or 
more properly, perhaps, of both. : It is evident that the 
figure has been struck with sudden death; the head has 
fallen on the shoulders, the eyes have lost their volition, 
the convulsions which contract the limbs are the spasms 
of mortal agony; but the fulness and roundness of the 
muscles show that the blow has fallen. on the delinquent 
while in the full possession of health aud: vigour. The 
whole action. is consecutive; he has’ been kneeling at the 
steps, has fallen backwards, and we perceive, notwith- 
standing his feeble aud unconscious effort to sustain 
himself ou his wrist, that in another moment he will be 
extended on the floor. So sudden has been the shock, 
that it has not been perceived except by the persons 
immediately adjacent to the. spot. In these individuals of 
different sex and ages, the fear and astonishment, naturally 
excited by such an event, are finely pourtrayed; the young 
man on the left, recoiling.in dismay, affords an effective 
contrast in the fine extension of his limbs to the fore- 
shortened figure of Ananias. . “Uhe two men on the right, 
in the midst of their amazement, appear to admit, by their 
eestures uid expression, the justice of the infliction. It 
has been questioned whether the woman who is advanc- 
ing from behind was meant for Sapphira, as it 1s stated 
in the sacred record that three hours had elapsed after 
the death of Ananias before she entered the place. Not- 
withstanding this objection, it is most probable that 
Raffaelle intended this fieure for the wife of Ananias; 
and the slight inaccuracy is more than atoned for by the 
sublime moral, which shows the woman approaching the 
spot where her husband had met his doom, and where 
her own death awaits her, but wholly unconscious of 
those judgements, and absorbed in counting that.gold by 
which both she and her partner had been betrayed to 
their fate. 





« 
@ 


We have received several communications on the 
subject of the Cartoons, of which the following is 


e 


ares. Cf & 5 ewe © + + 


One correspondent, remarking upon the cartoon en- 
titled “ Paul preaching at Athens,” affirms that this title 
“is atmisnomer. He-was not preaching in our sense of 
the word, but pleading before a hieh court of justice. 


s © Soe 6 © «© ¢ © f 


Hie was not brought before this court, like Socrates, on 


account of his doctrines. ‘The picture therefore fails, as 
it represents Paul addressing an indiscriminate audience, 
consisting of philosophers of the different sects then in 
high esteem, the women not being excluded.” ~« Our 
correspondent then proceeds to lament that in the de- 
scriptive account of the cartoon opportunity was not 
taken to point out an erroneous translation in the com- 
non version of the New Testament, which makes Paul 
speak of his auditors as superstitious; and that his 
conduct and address were not contrasted with those of 
Socrates in a somewhat similar situation. He then pro- 
ceeds as follows :— 

“Taking the picture as it is supposed to be, the repre- 
sentation of a fact in a certain place, it has always 
appeared to me as one of the absurdest productions of 
modern art, offending without cause both in costume 
and locality. 

“Poets and painters have, as Horace says, a very exten- 
sive range allowed to them, but it has its limits. What 
can be more absurd than to see in the celebrated picture 
of the Lord’s Supper (of which I hope to see a print in 
your Magazine) our Saviour blessing a modern loaf, a 
loaf of leavened bread, a species of bread particwarly 
interdicted at that time to be in the house.” 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


rh 


A second correspondent states that there are two other 
productions of Raffaelle, denominated Cartoons, in the 
Duke of Buccleugh’s collection at Boughton House, near 
Kettering in Northamptonshire. ‘‘ These cartoons,” he 
says, “‘are, I believe, very little known ; nor have [ ever 
seen any copies or prints of them, They are paintings in 
water, much of the colouring of which has faded, whilst 
all the outlines and bolder strokes are remaining. 'They 
are on paper,.and, from the creases visible in the sheets, 
appear to have once been folded up for carriage, to 
be copied, like the other cartoons, in tapestry or upon 
glass. ‘The subject of one of them is, I think, Ezekiel’s 
Vision ; in which the person of the Almighty is won- 
derfully pourtrayed : it has exactly the same expression 
as the representations of the same being on the com- 
partments of the ceilings in the Vatican—judging from 
prints. Of the other I: have but little recollection, 
except that it is a°group, and very much in the style’ 
of those at Hampton Court—at least according to the 
copies in the Bodleian—never having seen the originals. 
The cartoons at Boughton are, I think, somewhat 
larger than the copies alluded to at Oxford, and are 





reversed in position, the shortest sides of the parallelo- 


grams forming the: tops and bottoms.” This corres- 
pondent wishes to know whether any other particulars ° 
are known respecting them, whether any prints or 
copies are known to exist of them, and by whom they 
were brought to- England. <A third correspondent ° 
informs us that he has repeatedly inspected these last- 
mentioned cartoons with great pleasure; and adds’ that” 
the subject of the second is either the Nativity or the’ 
Adoration of the Magi, and that George If. wished ° 
to have added them to his collection. We shall en- 
deavour to give a more precise account of these works 
Ina future number. 

In the introductory remarks on the Cartoons, in 
No, 43, deserved praise was given to the engravings of 
those at Hampton Court by the late’Mr. Holloway. 
But the praise, if appears, should not have been confined 
to that gentleman, and-we readily accede to a request of 
making known the‘parties to whom any share is due: 

“."Phe fact is,” says a correspondent, on whose correct- 
ness .we can rely, “the engravings have. been almost _ 
eutirely executed by his partners,, Messrs. Slann and 
Webb, who have given up all their time, property, and 
talents, iu executing and supporting the work which | 
must otherwise have ‘lone ago sunk from, insufficient 
patronage, and who will even at:great pecuniary loss 
complete the seven engravings. ‘To Mr. Holloway fully - 
belongs the credit of commencing the work, and he, with ° 
his eldest nephew, made the beautiful drawings from the 
originals, and was the public man of the party ; but to 
his partners, who worked unseen and almost unkuown, 
most justly appertains the credit of the engravings. ’ 

It appears also that we were in error in stating that 
the tapestries brought from: Spain by Mr. Tupper, and 
recently exhibited‘at the Egyptian Hall, had been sold to 
a foreigner, and by him taken to the Continent. They 
are yet in the possession of Mr. Tnpper’s brother. 


ON THE-ILL.EFFECTS OF INSUFFICIENT 
EXERCISE, CONSTRAINED POSITIONS, AND 
TIGHT STAYS ON THE HEALTH OF YOUNG 
WOMEN. | | 

Tuere is no branch of education which stands more in 

need of revision and improvement. than that -which 

relates to the bodily health and growth ‘of children and 
young persons, and which is now commonly known by 
the name of Physical Education. ‘This is more espe- 
cially true of the education of girls, particularly such as 
are brought up at boarding-scnools ; boys being com- 
paratively but little affected by the causes which act 


most injuriously on the young persons of the other sex. 


78 
The three grand sources of ill-health in female boarding- 
schools are, Ist, the want of sufficient bodily exercise ; 
2d, constrained postures; and, 3d, the use of stays; and 
they originate in the over-anxiety of parents, more par- 
ticularly mothers, to obtain for their children the three 
following benefits, or supposed benefits; ist, a great 
number of accomplishments, as they are termed; 2d, a 
eenteel carriage; and, 3d, a fine shape. Never were 
objects more completely defeated through injudicious 
methods of attaining them; the actual results being, too 
often, in lieu of real substantial benefits, the following 


lamentable evils: Ist, a smattering of various kinds or: 


knowledge, which are found of little practical utility in 
the actual business of life, with a great deficiency of 
those kinds of knowledge which would really be so; 
2d, general impairment of the health; 3d, a bad carriage 
and figure, and, too often, actual deformity of body. 
Although these evils are notorious to all who observe 
what is passing around them in society, and although 
they have often been the theme of invective in the writ- 
ings of physicians and philosophic moralists, it cannot 
be imagined that those most interested in the subject, 
the fathers and mothers of the rising generation, are in 
reality aware of their causes, naturc, or extent; were 
they so, they could never be brought to countenance 
the system in which they originate. It is for this reason, 
and becanse it is in a particular manner among the 
middle classes of society that the evils most prevail, that 
we do not think our pages can be better appropriated 
than in making them more generally known, and in 
endeavouring to impress them forcibly on the minds 
of parents. We are enabled to do this in a very com- 
pendious and most authentic form, by means of a 
few extracts from a valuable work, now in course ef 
publication*, and which, as it 1s written chiefly for the 
members of the medical profession, will not be accused 
of exaggeration or misrepresentation for personal ends. 
‘The subjoined quotations are from the article Physical 
Jiducation, written by Dr. Barlow, an eminent physician 
at Bath, and which has appended to it some important 
notes by Dr. I’orbes, of Chichester, one of the editors. 


I. Of Exercise, or rather of the want of Exercise, in 
Boarding Schools, and some of tts conseqitences. 


“Boys enjoy exercise freely, and of the best kind, 
in the unrestrained indulgence of their youthful sports. 
By means of these every muscle of the frame comes in 
for its share of active exercise, and free growth, vigonr, 
and health are the result. It would be happy for girls if 
some portion of such latitude were allowed to them also. 
But it is far otherwise. Even under the more favour- 
able cireumstances of country life, they are too much 
restricted from the free exercise which health requires. 
‘heir very dress unfits them from taking it, and the 
aileoed indecorum of those active movements to which 
youth and spirits instinctively incite, is a bar to even the 
attempt being made. At their age the measured, slow- 
paced, daily walk is quite insufficient even for the 
museles specially engaged, while it leaves many others 
wholly unexercised. If this be true of the more hale 
and robust inhabitants of the country, how much more 
forcibly does it apply to the delicate and attenuated resi- 
dents of towns, and especially to the inmates of female 
schools. Of these establishments the systems and habits 
require much revision, and until some effective reforma- 
tion takes place, of which there is-yet but littk prospect, 
they will not fail to excite our sympathy and regret for 
the blanched aspects, shadowy forms, and sickly consti- 
tutions so continually presented, and which it is so pain- 
ful to witness. Such beings are as little fitted for 
encountering the toils or fulfilling the duties of life, as 

* The ‘ Cyclopedia of Practical Medicine,’ published in monthly 
parts, edited by John Forbes, M.D, F.R.S., A. Tweedie, M.D., and 
John Conolly, M.D. 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Fesruary 28, 


are plants of a hothouse for being transferred to the 
open borders.” 

‘To the above passage, the following interesting state- 
ment and important remarks are appended in the form 
of a note by Dr. Forbes, one of the editors :— 

“The amount of exercise, or rather the extent to 
which the want of exercise is carried, in many boarding- 
schools, will appear incredible to those who have not 
personally investigated the subject. ‘The following is 
the carte of a young ladies’ boarding-school, drawn up 
on the spot, a few years since, from the report of several 
of its inmates :— 


At 6 in the morning the girls are called, and rise. 

From 6 to 8, learning or saying lessons in school. 

8 to 84, at breakfast. 

53 to 9, preparing lessons out of school (some of the girls 
permitted to do so in the garden), 

9 tol, at various tasks, in school. .. 

1 to 1}, out of school, but must not go out of doors; reading 
or working, and preparing for dinner. 

lito 2, at dinner. 

2 to 5, in school, various tasks. 

2 to 54, at tea. 

vx to 6, preparing to yo out; dressing, or reading, or playweg 
in school. 

6 to7, walking, generally arm-in-arm, on the high road, 
many with their ‘books in their hands, and 
reading. 

‘* "Two days in the week they do not walk in the even- 
ing at all, being kept in for dancing; but, by way of 
amends, they go out on two other days, from 12 to 1, 
and then they miss writing. It is to be remarked that 
they never go out untess the weather is quite fine at the 
particular hours allotted for walking. They go to 
church, all the year round, twice every Sunday, on which 
day no other exercise is taken. 

From 7 to 8, for the older girls, reading or working in school, 
(this is optional,) and then prayers; for the 
younger, play in school, and prayers, 

At 8, the younger go to bed. 


From 8 to 9, the older, reading or working, as before. 
9, to bed. 


“The twenty-four hours are, therefore, thus disposed 
of :— 


Hours. 
In bed, (the older 9, the younger 10.) uuu (eens 
In school, at their studies'and-tasks ...8..5..05 08.) 9 
In school, or in the house, the older at optional studies or 


work, the younger at play . . . 27. 2)Ssseaueennna 
At meals OE ml, 

iixercisé in the Open air. . . . | signe a nl 
24 


See Se 


‘The above account was taken from a second or 
third-rate school, and applies more particularly to the 
season most favourable for exercise,—summer. It is to 
be remarked that the confinement is generally greater in 
these than in schools of a higher order. That the prac- 
tical results of such an astounding regimen are by no 
means overdrawn by Dr. Barlow, is sufficiently evinced 
by the following fact, a fact which we will venture to 
say may be veritied by inspection of thousands of board- 
ing-schools in this country.. We lately visited, in a large 
town, a boarding-school containing forty girls; and we 
learnt, on close and accurate inquiry, that there was not 
one of the girls who had been at the school two years 
(and the majority had been as long) that was not more 
or less crooked! Our patient was in this predicament; 
and we could perceive (what all may perceive who meet 
that most melancholy of all processions—a boarding- 
school of young ladies in their walk) that all her com- 
panions were pallid, sallow, and listless. We can assert, 
oul the same authority of personal observation, and on 
an extensive scale, that scarcely a single girl (more 
especially of the middle classes) that has been at a 
boarding-school for two or three years, returns home 


* Younger only two hours and a half, 


1833.] 


with unimpaired health ; and, for the trnth of the asser- 
tion, we may appeal to every candid father whose 
daughters have been placed in this situation. Happily, 
a portion of the ill health produced at school is in many 
cases only temporary, and vanishes after the return from 
it. In the schools in which the vacations are frequent 
or long, much mischief is often warded off by the 
periodical returns to the ordinary habits of healthful life ; 
and some happy constitutions, unquestionably, bid 
defiance to all the systematic efforts made to undermine 
them. No further proof is needed of the enormous. evil 
produced by the present system of school discipline than 
the fact, well known to all medical men, that the greater 
proportion of women in the middle and upper ranks of 
life do not enjoy even a moderate share of health; and 
persons, not of the medical profession, may have sufficient 
evidence of the truth, by comparing the relative powers 
of the young men and young women of any family in 
taking bodily exercise, more particularly in walking. 
The difference is altogether inexplicable on the ground 
of sex only. ° : 


II. Of the Effects of the Attempts to produce “ a good 


Carriage.” 


“The first error is that of restraining the free motions 
of the body and limbs, so natural at this period of life, 
and in which the. young of.both sexes so much delicht. 
The young lady is now to cultivate manners, to practise 
a certain demureness supposed to be becoming, to attend 
to her carriage, keeping her head erect, and her shoulders 
drawn back ; and if from inability to continue the mus- 
cular efforts necessary for this end; she fail to do what 
nature does not empower her to accomplish, negligence 
or obstinacy is imputed, reproach is cast, which, being 
felt as unjust, irritates the moral feelines; and thus a 
slight error in physical discipline becomes a fruitful 
source not only of bodily injury but of moral depravation. 
It is a well established fact with respect to muscular 
energy, that the contractions of muscular fibres on which 
their actions depend, require intervals of relaxation; that, 
if the contractions be prolonged without this relief, they 
in a certain time fail, so that no effort of the will can 
continue them. In other words, the muscles tire, and an 
interval of repose is necessary to fit them for renewed 
effort. This is familiarly instanced by the experiment of 
holding the arm extended, when, even though no weight 
bé held in the hand, the continued muscular action re- 
quired for maintaining this position cannot be sustained 
for many minutes. If this be true of the firm and robust 
muscles of adults, how much more forcibly does the prin- 
ciple apply to the tender and immature muscles of early 
life. To preserve a good carriage, to keep the head and 
shoulders continually in that position which the dancing- 
master approves, require considerable muscular powers, 
such as no girl can exercise without long, painful, and 
injurious training, nor even by this, unless other mea- 
sures to be hereafter noticed, be resorted to in aid of 
her direct endeavours. We would not here be under- 
stood as undervaluing’ a rood carriage, which is not only 
pleasing to the eye, but is, when natural, absolutely con- 
ducive itself to health, as resulting’ from that relative 
position of the several parts connected exteriorly with 
the chest, which allows greatest freedom to the internal 
organs. ‘To ensure a good carriage, the only rational 
way is to give the necessary power, especially in the 
muscles chiefly concerned ; and this is to be done, not 
by wearying those muscles by continual and unrelieved 
exertion, but by invigorating the frame generally, and 
more especially by strengthening the particular muscles 
through varied exercise alternated with due repose. 

“ Direct endeavours to enforce whatis called acood car- 
riage necessarily fail of their effect, and instead of streneth- 


ening they enfeeble the muscular powers necessary for | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


79 
maintaining it. This fact.soon becomes perceptible; 
weakness is noticed, and instead of correcting this by the 
only rational mode, that of invigorating the weakened 
muscles, mechanical aid is called in to support them, 
and laced waistcoats are resorted to. These undoubtedly 
give support,—nay, they may be so used as almost 
wholly to supersede the muscular efforts, with the ad- 
vantage of not tiring, however long or continuously em- 
ployed. Improvement of carriage is manifested, the 
child is sensible of relief from a painful exertion, the 
mother is pleased with the success of her management, 
and this success appears to superficial observation fully 
to confirm the judgment which superintends it. In the 
present ignorance that prevails on all points of animal 
physiology, it would be quite impossible to convince any 
mother so impressed that she was doing otherwise than 
ministering to her child’s welfare. Yet what are the 
consequences to which her measures tend, and which 
such measures are daily and hourly producing ? ‘The 
muscles of the back and chest, restrained in their natural 
and healthful exercise by the waiscoats called in to aid 
them, and more signally in after-life by the tightly laced 
stays or corsets, becoine attenuated, and still further en- 
feebled, until at length they are wholly dependent on the 
mechanical aid, heing quite incapable of dispensing with 
it for any continuance. 

“ At first, laced waistcoats are used rather for the con- 
venience of suspending other parts of the dress than with 
any view of giving support to weak muscles, or of in- 
fluencing the shape; and confined to such use they 
would be perfectly harmless. In time, when weakness 
becomes inferred, not from any evidences of actual de- 
bility, but merely from the girls not being able to main- 
tain the unnatural and constrained posture which fashion 
and false taste enjoin, the advantage of compressing the 
chest by means of the waistcoast, so as to give support 
to the muscles of the back, becomes discovered, and the 
mechanical power supplied by the lace affords but too 
effective means of accomplishing this compression. ‘The 
effect pleases the mother, promoting, as it does, her 
dearly-prized object—a good carriage; it is endured by 
the girl as the lesser of two evils, for though at first 
irksome, it releases her from the pain of endeavours 
which she has not power to continue to the extent 
required. 


lil. Of the Operation and Effects of Stays. 


‘* As years advance, various causes combine to render 
this practice more inveterate and more pernicious ; and 
still the potent instrument, the lace, lends its ready and 
effectual aid. Now a taper waist becomes an object of 
ambition, and the stays are to be laced more ¢losely. 
This is still done graduatly, and, at first, imperceptibly 
to the parties. The effect, however, though slow, is 
sure, and the powers of endurance thus exercised come 
in time to bear almost unconsciously what, if suddenly 
or quickly attempted, no heroism could possibly sustain. 

“The derangements to which this increased pressure 
gives rise must now be considered. The first is the 
obvious impediment to the motions of the ribs which this 
constriction of the chest occasions. J*or perfect respira- 
tion these motions should be free and unrestrained. In 
proportion as respiration is impeded, is the blood imper- 
fectly vitalised ; and in the same ratio are the nutrient 
and other functions dependent on the blood inadequately 
performed. Here, then, is one source of debility which 
affects the whole frame, reducing every part below the 
standard of healthful vigour. According, also, as each 
inspiration of air becomes less full, the wants of the 
system require, as a compensation, increased frequency ; 
and thus quickened respiration commences, disturbing 
the lungs, and creating in them a tendency to inflamma- 
tory action. ‘The heart, too, becomes excited, the pulse 


80 


and palpitation is in time superadded. All 
wre capable of resulting from mere constric- 
chest ; they become fearfully aggravated 


accelerated, 
these effects 
tion of the 


when, at amore advanced stage, additional sources of 


irritation arise in flexure of the spine, and in derange- 
ments of the stomach, liver, and other organs subservient 
to digestion. The foregoing disturbances are formidable 
enough, and sufficiently destructive of health, yet they are 
not the only lesions (injuries) which tight lacing induces. 
The pressure, which is chiefly made on the lower part of the 
chest, and to which this part most readily yields, extends 
its malien influence to the abdominal viscera also. By 
it the stomach and liver are compressed, and, in time, 
partially detruded from the concavity of the diaphragm, 
to the great disturbance of their functions ; and being 
pressed downwards too, these trespass on that space 
which the other abdominal viscera require, superinducing 
still further derangements. , Thus, almost every function 
of the body becomes more or less depraved. Nothing 
could have prevented the source of all this mischief and 
misery from being fully detected and universally under- 
stood, but the slow and insidious process by which the 
aberration from sound principle effects its ravages. 

“The mere wealmess of back, so often adverted to, 
becomes in its turn an aggravating cause of visceral 
lesion. The body cannot be always cased in tightly- 
laced stays* their pressure may be endured to any extent 
under the excitement of the evening display, but during 
the day some relaxation must take place. Under it, the 
muscles of the back, deprived of their accustomed sup- 
port, and incapable of themselves to sustain the incum- 
bent weight, yield, and the column of the spine bends, 
at first anterionly, causing round shoulders and an 
arched back; but eventually inclines to one or other side, 
viving rise to the well-known and too frequently occurring 
state of lateral curvature. This last change most fre- 
quently commences in the sitting’ posture, such females 
being, through eeneral debility, much disposed to seden- 
tary habits. As soon as lateral curvature commences, the 
Jungs and heart become still more disturbed; anhelation 
(difficulty of breathing’) from slight exertion, short cough, 
and palpitation ensue; and at this time, chiefly in conse- 
quence of the pulmonary derangement, alarm begins to be 
entertained, and the approach of phthisis apprehended.” 

The following figures, taken from a valuable-work in 
German, by the late professor Soemmering, on the 
iiffects of Stays, cannot fail to make an impression on 
the wind of every parent and guardian of youth :-— 





lie. 1.) 


Fig, 1. is an outline of the famous statue of the 
Venus de Medici, and may be considered as the bcaz 
ideal of a fine female fieure. 


Fig. 2. is the skeleton of a similar figure, with the | 


bones in their natural position, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


[Fesruary 28, 1833 





[Fig. 3. Fig. 4. 


- Fig. 3. is an outline of the figure of a modern “ board- 
ing-school miss,” after it has been permanently re- 
modelled by stays. 


Fig. 4. is the skeleton belonging to such a figure as 
No. 3. 


We are assured by medical men of the first authority 
that there is no exaggeration in these outlines. Such 
melancholy specimens are daily to be met with, both 
living and dead. 





Advantages of high Civilization —We northern people 
are so much accustomed to the innumerable conveniences 
peculiar to a highly civilized state of society, and of which 
rich and poor all partake, more or less, as of the air they 
breathe, that we are apt to undervalue or overlook them 
altogether; and it is well that we now'and then should be 
made to feel the value of what is thus thanklessly enjoyed. 
We think too little of good and safe roads, lighted streets, 
public markets, where necessaries and luxuries of all sorts 
and at all prices are found collected ; of cheap and speedy 
means of conveyance for persons'and property ; and, abore 
all, that happy division of labour by which the wants of each 
individual and those of the aggregate mass are supplied 
with far more ease, in greater abundance, and at infinitely 
Jess expense than when each individual is thrown on his 
own exertions for all he wants, yet has nobody to think on 
but himself. It is cheaper to travel in England in a post- 
chaise, accommodated each night with a good bed and 
supper, and thanked too by the landlord, than in Sicily on 
mules, carrying your own beds and cooking utensils, and at 
the end of each fatiguing day's journey reduced to beg for a 
night's lodging at the door of a stranger.—Simona’s Travels 
an Secily. ‘ell ew al 
nn 

*,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 

09, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. , 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Shopheeners and Hawkers may be supplied IWVhclesale by the Following 
Booksellers, of whom, also, any of the previous Numbers may be had:— 


Manchester, Ropinson; and Wepge 
and SIMMS. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, CHARNLEY. 

Norwich, JARronp and Son; and 
Witkin and FLEercuER. rt 

Nottingham, WRIGHT. 

Oxford, SLATTER. 

Plymouth, NETTLETON, 

Portsea, Horsey, Jun. 

Sheffield, Rince. 

Shrewsbury, LUIBNAM, 

Southampton, F.eTcHen. 

Staffordshire, Lane Jind, C. Warts, 

Woreester, DE1.antTon, 

Dablin, WAKEMAN, 

Aberdeen, Smutn. 

Edinburgh, O.rver and Born, 

Glasgow, ATKINSON and Co, 

New York, Jackson, 


London, GRoomBRIDGE, Panyer Alley, 
Paternoster Row. 

Bath, SimMs. 

Birmingham, DRaxeE. 

Bristol, Westiey and Co. 

Canterbury. Manrren. 

Carlisle, ViruRNAM; and Scorr, 

Derby, WiLerNs and Son. 

Devonport, ByeEns. 

Doncaster, BRooxe and WHITE, 

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Falmouth, PHILP. 

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Ir:nted by Wrrnias CLowzs, Stamford Street. 


THE PENNY MAGAZ 


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OF THRE 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


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S : s RN 
l. Paradisea apoda, The Emerald. 2, Paradisea aurea, The Siflet. 


3. The Incomparable; (Le Vaillant). , 
4, Tho Cloudy ; (Le Vaillant). 5. Paradsea superba, The Superb, ; 


Vou, II,’ 


82 


BIRDS OF PARADISE. 


Many of the narratives of the older naturalists are 
little more than amusing fables. ‘To deduce the leading 
characteristics of an animal from a minute investigation 
of its physical construction—to warch its habits with 
anxious solicitude in its native haunts—formed no part 
of the care of those who compiled beoks of natural his- 
tory a century or two ago. Whatever was imperfectly 
known was immediately made the subject of a tale of 
wonder. ‘The old accounts of the Birds of Paradise are 
striking examples of this disposition to substitute inven- 
tion for reality. Now and then some traveller brought 
to Europe the skin of a beautiful race of birds, of whose 
habits he knew nothing, except what he learnt from the 
natives who collected them. ‘Their plumage was of the 
most brilliant lustre; some were covered over tlie breast 
and back with tippets of the richest hues; others had 
long delicate lines of feathers, prolonged from beneath 
their wings, or branching from the head; and most of 
these irappings appeared too fragile for any use, and 
incapable of bearing up against the rude winds which 
visit the earth. The specimens also which came to 
Europe were deprived of feet. F’ancy had thus ample 
materials to workupon. These birds, tender as the dove 
and more brilliant than the peacock, were described as 
the inhabitants of some region where all was beauty and 
purity ; where no storms ever ruffled their plumage; 
where they floated about on never-tiring wings in a 
bright and baimy atmosphere, incapable of resting from 
their happy flight, and nourished only by the dews and 
perfumes of a cloudless sky. ‘They were called Birds of 
Paradise: and the few specimens that Europeans saw 
were supposed to have accidentally visited some sunny 
spot of our world, rich with flowers and spices, but not 
their true abiding-place.. Such were the tales that the 
old writers of natural history adopted; and to which 
even scientific persons appeared to give belief, when they 
named one of the species, Paradisea apoda, the feetless 
Bird of Paradise. 


The most correct description of the Birds of Paradise | 


is that given by Gaimard, one of the uaturalists who 
accompanied the French expedition of discovery under 
Captain Freycinet, in 1817. He observed many of these 
birds in the island of Vaigiou, one of the islands forming 
the group of which New Guinea is the principal.. They 
constitute a genus of the order of Omnivores (eating all 
things). Their principal food is fruit and insects; and the 
strength of their beaks and feet admirably fit them for sus- 
taining themselves in the thick woods where they dwell. 
‘They delight in the most inaccessible parts of forests ; 
and when the weather is serene, they-perch themselves 
on the topmost branches of the highest trees. ‘They fly 
with great rapidity, although they constantly direct their 
course against the wind. ‘This is a proceeding which 
they are compelled to adopt, in consequence of the 
luxurious trappings with which nature has clothed them; 
for the wind, pressing in the direction of their long 
feathers, holds them close to their bodies: in a contrary 
direction their plumage would be ruffled, and _ their 
loaded wings would act with difficulty. They, however, 
seldom venture from their retreats in rough weather. 
At the approach of a storm they entirely disappear, in- 
stinctively dreading the hurricane, which they would be 
unable to meet, and before which it would be equally 
dangerous to fly. They are extremely courageous, ready 
to attack any bird of prey that excites their alarm. They 
have never been seen in a state of domesticity amongst 
any of the Papou tribes, inhabiting the islands where 
they are commonly found. Of their nests, their mode of 
hatching, and their care of their young, nothing appears 
to be known, — 

In the wood-cut_ at the head of this article we have 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 2, 


of Paradise, as given by Le Vaillant, in his work on 
Birds. The species, No. 1, (Par. apoda,) is very re- 
markable for the beauty of its plumage, which is of the 
most varied and brilliant colours. It is especially distin- 
guished by the long curved fillets which spring from 
beneath its wings,’ and extend in length about two feet. 
No. 2 (Le Sifilet) is so called from the six fillets 
which adorn its head. No. 3 and 4 are -drawn and 
described by Le Vaillant. The latter is represented 
displaying its splendid plumes as the peacock does his 
tail, No. 5 (the Superb) exhibits pretty clearly the 
nature of the plumage of the Birds of Paradise. The 
sort of tippet upon its breast, and the fan-like ornaments 
of its shoulders, have no connection either with the wing's 
cr the tail. ‘The bird has the power of raising or de- 
pressing them ; but they do not appear to assist its flight. 
Those on the shoulders fold down over a part of the 
wings like a mantle. In dimensions the various species 
differ considerably. The bodies of most-are not larger 
than that of a thrush, although the thickness of their 
plumage makes them appear the size of a large 
pigeon. 

One of the most beautiful of the Birds of Paradise is 
called the kine-bird, (Paradisea regia). Of this 
species many curious stories are current in the islands 
where these birds are found. ‘The natives aver, for 
example, that the two principal species of Paradise birds 
have each their leader, whose imperial mandates are 
received with submissive obedience by 4 numerous train 
of subjects; and that his majesty always flies above the 
flock to issue his orders for inspecting and tasting the 
springs of water where they may dfink with safety—the 
Indians being in the practice of taking whole flocks of 
birds by poisoning the water where they resort to drink. 
Le Vaillant considers that this notion originated from 
the casual observation of a strange species amongst a 
gregarious flock. ‘This explanation aecords with the 
account given by M. Sonnerat of the manners of the 
king-bird of Paradise; for being a solitary bird, going 
from bush to bush in search of the berries upon which it 
feeds, it may occasionally be seen near the flocks of those 
which are gregarious, where its singular plumage must 
render it conspicuous. ) 

These gorgeous trappings of the various species of 
the Birds of Paradise excite the cupidity of man. The 
feathered skins form a large object of commerce between 
the people of the New Guinea islands and the Malays. 
The natives entrap the birds or shoot them with blunt 
arrows ; and they prepare the skins with considerable 
nicety, having removed the true wings, which are not so 
brilliant as the other feathers, and cut off the feet and 
legs. The absence of feet in all the specimens brought 
to Europe, gave rise to the fable that the Birds of 
Paradise had no power of alighting, and were always on 
the wing. Their migratory habits may probably also 
have given some colour to this tale. At the nutmeg 
season they come in flights from the southern isles to 
India; and Tavernier says, ‘The strength of the nutmeg 
so intoxicates them that they fall dead drunk to the 
earth ;” 


* Those golden birds that, in the spice time, drop 
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food 
Whose scent hath lur’d them o’er the summer flood.” 
_Moorgz, 


Influence of Domestic Habits —The man who lives in the 
midst of domestic relations will have many opportunities of 
conferring pleasure, minute in detail, yet uot trivial in the 
amount, without interfering with the purposes of general 
benevolence. Nay, by kindling his sensibility, and harmo- 
nising his soul, they may be expected, if he is endowed with 


a liberal and manly spirit, to render him more prompt in the 
j service of strangers and the public.—Godtoin'’s Preface to 


grouped torether some of the more splendid of the Birds | 


St. Leon. 


1833.] 
COUNCILS OF TRADE. 


An excellent institution exists in all the great manufac- 

‘turing towns of France, which, wita some few modifica- 
tions to suit the difference of circumstances, might be 
adopted with advantage in the manufacturing towns of 
other countries. | 
tribunals charged with the discussion and settlement of 
all questions connected with the manufacturing interests 
of each particular district. An institution of this kind 
formerly existed in I’rance wnder the title of the “ Maitre 
Garde.” ‘This manufacturing tribunal was reviyed and 
re-modelled by a decree of Napolegn in 1806, and is now 
known by the nante of “‘ Conseil des Prud’hommes.” In 
the eyidence given by Dr, Bowring on the Silk ‘Trade, 
the Conseil des Prud'hommes at Lyons is more par- 
ticularly described. ‘Ihe following brief notice of this 
tribunal is here given with the hope of making it better 
known ; as we believe that an institution of such a nature, 
with some few alterations, might lead to a permanent 
improvement in the morals and happiness of the inhabi- 
tants of our manufacturing towns. 

‘This society at Lyons is composed of nine silk manu- 
factureis and eight silk weavers. ‘The representatives of 
the manufacturers have always heen elected by the whole 
body of master manufacturers, but until lately a more 
exclusive system was practised with regard to the election 
of the weavers. ‘Those weavers only were eligible to 
vote who had paid the patent duty; their number, 
amounting to sixty, formed only a small proportion of 
the whole body of working weavers, and it resulted in 
consequence that as these latter were not truly repre- 
sented, their interests were not properly considered, so 


soe, a |6CU 


always being a manufacturer. 

The business of this association is to conciliate and 
watch over the interests of all parties. Any disputes 
about wages are settled by their authority ; all questions 
_ between masters and men, and masters and apprentices, 
and, in short, every thing which can in any way bear 
upon the question of the silk manufacture is referred to 
them. They are invested by Government with a certain 
defined power: in some cases they have the privilege of 
inflicting fines, and are allowed to punish by imprison- 
meut to the extent of three days ; a discipline which is 
repeatedly applied to refractory apprentices. ‘hey have 
also the power of summoning wituesses and compelling 
their attendance. This tribunal sits in open court; its 
discussions are an object of great interest, and its deci- 
sions give ‘general satisfaction. It acts as a court of 
conciliation. Dr. Bowring states, that he was much 
struck with the general good sense of the proceedings in 
this court. The men who represent the weavers ap- 
peared to be men of sound discretion and sober judgment, 
and the whole is well organized and extremely popular. 

Such an association, established in every manufacturing 
town, and turmed of manufacturers and artisans chosen 
in equal numbers, and from the whole body of their 
respective classes, would do much towards promoting 
and continuing cordial good-will between masters and 
workmen. Such regulations and arrangements migit 
be framed by their representatives as would best 
conduce to their mutual interest. and they would dis- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


This establishment consists of local } 


.trave, architecture. 


83 


cover that unity of purpose, while it created a kindly 
sympathy between the two parties, is one means of 
guarding against fluctuations in trade, and of insuring 
prosperity to both the artisan and the manufacturer. 


ON THE PRONUNCIATION OF HARD WORDS. 
{Continued from No. 54.) 


aright. 

The meaning of these words is often understood simply 
because the thing and the name are at the same time 
presented tous. We see or learn from experience the 
properties of the thing, and we therefore attach definite 
ideas to the name by which it is signified. Most people 
know very well what is meant by a telescope, a kalei- 
doscope, a microscope, and many other words ending in 
scope. But when a new name arises such as slethescope, 
belonging to some art or science which is practised only 
by few, the thing is, to the generality of people, unseen 
and unknown; and consequently the mame conveys no 
idea with it. This isa great disadvantage in the present 
state of our language, that when a new name is intro- 
duced, which is compounded of two or more words, the 
name does not convey 27 itself, to an English reader, any 
description of what the thing is. ‘This happens because 
the parts of which such words are composed are really 
Greek words, and therefore cannot be generally under- 
stood. If, instead of telescope, kaleidoscope, microscope, 
stethescope, we were to say a long-seer, a pretty-scer, a 
small-seer, a breast-seer, these names themselves would 


« 


convey some idea; but unfortunately we have so long 
abandoned this mode of making new words, that we 
believe it impossible ever again to use the materials of 
gur language for such a purpose. The Germans have 
in this a great advantage over us, as a yery large num- 
ber of their scientific terms are formed of words already 
existing in the language, and familiar even to the poorest 
labourer. ‘Thus, instead of geography, osteology, metal- 


lurgy, chronology, architecture, they can say, earth-de- 


scription, bone-knowledge, smelting-art, time-reckoning, 


building-art ; fhough they have also other words for 
many of these terms of art, which are the same as ours 
with some slight diffrence in orthography, such as geo 
graphie, chronologie, &c. Notwithstanding the number 
of hard words by which all our sciences are fenced in, 
just as if the intention had been to bar up the road and 
the approaches to knowledge, we believe that it is prac- 
ticable to make them all more inteligible to the least 
educated people, who possess common sense and a little 
industry, than they are at present to nine-tenths of tliose 
who so readily use these words, and only pretend to 
know their meaning. 

The recognised pronunciation of the vowels and con- 
sonants in such words as we have just alluded to, is, with 
few exceptions, the same as in real Greek words. Yet 
there are some exceptions: for iustance, we pronounce 
arch in archbishop, in the same way as when the word 
signifies a curved piece of building, such as bridge or 
eateway. In other cases where the word arch precedes 
a vowel, it should be pronounced like ark, as in archi- 
The pronunciation of ¢ and ¢ fol- 
lows the rules already given; but when ¢ precedes y, as 
in gymnasium, gymnastics, gypsum, and perhaps some 
few more instances, there is no absolutely fixed rule, 
though there ought to be: some people pronounce the 
g like j in judge, others like g in gone. The latter Is 
undoubtedly preferable. Ch at the beginning of ak 
words derived from Greek, and, indeed, rs any othe. 

12 


84 THE PENNY 
part of a word, should be pronounced like #, as in 
chemistry, chondropterygii, acronychally, &c. 

The syllable on which the main stress should be put, 
otherwise called the accented syllable, is pretty well 
determined in all words of common use, such as ther- 
mo’meter, barometer, astronomy, geography, geo'logy, 
te'lescope, che'mistry ; and from these and other similar 
instances a useful rule may be deduced, which is this— 
in words of three or more syllables (and perhaps this 
comprehends far the greatest number of instances), the 
accent should be placed on the third syllable from the last. 
According to this rule the word orycteéropus, the scientific 
name for the Aard-vark (see Pen. Cy. p. 1), should be 
pronounced as we have marked it, with the accent on the 
last syllable but two, which is technically called the 
antepenultima. ‘There are, however, exceptions to this 
‘rule, as a’dama’‘ntine (which has two accents), a@erol7te 
(a word of four syllables), which has the chief accent on 
the first syllable, and also one on the last. ‘This word 
a'-e-ro-lite yeminds us that we ought to remark, that 
when @ and e are not united in one syllable, they should 
be pronounced perfectly distinct, as in the example given, 
and in a-e-ri-al, a’-e-ro-nau't. Achroma’tic, a word 
signifying ‘ without colour,” diploma'tic, pragma'tic, 


a 


and some other words of this class are pronounced as 


we have marked them. 
We have still something more to say about orycte ropus. 


ee oe —- 





a 


MAGAZINE. [M ARCH 2, 


‘Many scientific terms have been formed by persons, who 


were only imperfectly acquainted with the Greek lan- 
guage, from which these terms are principally taken, 
and consequently they have not always been formed 
according to analogy, 7. e. the makers of these new words 
have not in all cases attended to the same general prin- 
ciple on which all words of one kind should bé con- 
structed. In addition to this, the pronunciation of 
many of these words, with respect to the accented syl- 
lable, is not always quite the same among the persons 
who ‘profess the science to which it belongs: it is not 
always the same among people of the same country or 
nation; and nothing is so common as for the people of 
one nation, such as the English or French, to follow a 
different practice from those of another nation, such as 
the German or Italian. There is, therefore, in some 
cases, though perhaps they are not very numerous, no 
established practice which all people will acknowledge 
to be right. But more than this: a person well ac- 
quainted with the Greek language will often assert that 
many terms of art are wrongly pronounced by those 
acquainted with the art. He will assert, for instance, 
that orycte'ropus should be pronounced ory'cteropu's ; 
and he will be right according to the analogy of the 
Greek language. But usage, we think, ought to decide 
which mode of pronunciation ought to be adopted, and 
usage will undoubtedly be in favour of orycte'ropus. 





KENILWORTH CASTLE. 


a 


K.EniLwortH, or as it has been’ sometimes written, 


Killingworth Castle, in Warwickshire, about midway 
between the towns of Warwick and Coventry, and with- 
in five miles of each, is one of the most magnificent 
ruins in England. The town of Kenilworth appears to 
have had its castle even in the Saxon times ; but no part 
of the present building was erected till after the besin- 
ning of the twelfth century, in the reign of Henry I. “Its 
‘Ounder was Geffrey de Clinton, said to have been a 
person of humble origin, Originally from Clinton in 
Oxfordshire. He raised himself, however, to importance 
by the superiority of his talents; and after havine held 
the office of Gord Chamberlain and Treasurer, he was 
finally elevated to that of Lord Chief Justice of England. 
In 1165, however, in the reign of Henry IT., the castle 
seems to have come into the hands of the crown; but 
soon after the accession of King John, it was restored 
a me ff de Clinton, the grandson of the founder. 
len or how it again became the property of the crown 
does not appear; but in 1254 possession of it was 
granted for life, by Henry III., to Simon de Montfort, 





ES et eS SS Neh + a ah 


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+ 


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i irate ee See iii 
iil S28 Sia Seu == 

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. = Ne ahs V < 


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2 


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soe a Ig ye A Ser 
cf it -O B LF 
- . 


[Remains of Kenilworth Castle.1 


who had that year married his sister Eleanor, the Coun- 
tess Dowager of Pembroke, and whom he soon after 
created Kar! of Leicester. This bold and aspiring noble- 
man, having some time after headed an insurrection of 
the barons, was, after the temporary success of that 
enterprise, slain at the great battle fought near Evesham 
in Worcestershire, on the 4th of August, 1265; the royal 
troops being commanded by Prince Edaward, afterwards 
Edward I. In the following year the Castle of Keunil- 
worth maintained against the victorious prince one of 
the most obstinate defences recorded in oxr history. 
Although Simon de Montfort, the late earl’s son, had 
already surrendered himself, a body of his father’s fol- 
lowers, who held possession of the castle, still continued 
to bid defiance to the royal authority. They seem to 
have been a band of men of the most determined and 
desperate character. While they occupied Kenilworth 
they were the terror and scourge of the neighbourhood 
for many miles around, the parties whom they sent out 
to forage in all directions, doing their work of plunder 
and destruction with a recklessness and ferocity unpre- 


1833.] 


cedented even in that barbarous age. Prince Edward and 
his army sat down before the castle on the 25th of June. 
Before this a herald whom the King had despatched to 
summon the garrison to surrender, had been sent back 
with his hand cut off. The besiegers immediately com- 
menced the assault of the fortress; but they were met 
with a resistance so vigorous as to render their utmost 
efforts unavailing. ‘The place was well stored with pro- 
visions; and the tradition is, that various formidable 
engiues of war were for the first time brought into use 
on this occasion, by means of which the besieged were 
enabled to hurl enormous stones with the most destruc- 
tive force against their assailants. Some of these stones 
are still pointed out lying in the neighbourhood of the 
ruins. The Prince then determined to turn the siege 
into a blockade. Various overtures were made to the 
garrison; and on the 24th of August a parliament was 
assembled in the camp, which promulgated an act for 
the genera! pardon of the rebels on certain specified and 
very lenient conditions. Even this declaration, however, 
known by the name of the Dictum de Kenilworth, pro- 
duced no effect. But famine and disease at last com- 
pelled them to capitulate about the beginning of No- 
vember. By this time they had been forced to eat their 
horses, and every man of them was reduced almost to the 
paleness and ghastliness of a corpse. | 

Henry, upon thus obtaining possession of Kenilworth, 
bestowed it upon his second son, Edmund Earl of Derby, 
to which title was soon after added that of Earl of Lei- 
cester and Lancaster. Here, in 1279, in the reign of 
Edward I., was held a grand tournament, known by the 
name of the Round Table, from the manner in which the 
guests who attended the festival were placed, in order to 
prevent all disputes as to precedence. A hundred ladies 
were present; and as many knights, many of them 
foreioners, displayed their skill and prowess against each 
other with horse and lance. 

On the attainder and execution of Thomas Earl of 
Laneaster, son of Edinund, in 1322, his castle of Kenil- 
worth again reverted to the crown. When the weak 
aud unhappy Edward ITI. fell into the hands of his insur- 
gent barons, (headed by his infamous queen and. Henry 
of Lancaster, the brother of the late Earl Thomas,) he 
was conveyed to this stroug-hold, and. detained in. close 
imprisonment for several months. Here he went through 
the ceremony of formally resigning the crown to his son. 
Kenilworth now returned to the family of Lancaster, 
which also obtained the superior title of Duke; and it 
remained in .their hands till it fell to John of Gaunt, by 
his marriage with Blanch, the daughter .and heiress. of 
Duke Henry, coinmonly, called the Good Duke, the son 
of the Henry mentioned above. His son Henry IV. 
brought it once more back to the crown, from which it 
was not again separated till Elizabeth, soon after her 
accession, conferred it upon her favourite Robert Dudley, 
the celebrated Earl of Leicester. On his death, in 1588, 
it passed to his brother the Earl of Warwick, and shortly 
alter to Sir Robert Dudley, Leicester's son by the Lady 
Douglas Sheffield, to whom it has been generally 
believed that he was married, though he never would 
acknowledge her as his wife. On Dudley persisting in 
remaining abroad without a licence, his manor of Kenil- 
worth was confiscated to the crown in the commencement 
of the following reign, and bestowed by James upon his 
eldest son the lamented Prince Henry. At this time, 
according to a survey which was made of it, the ground 
within the walls was found to consist of seven acres. 
The castle itself 1s described as built all of hewn free- 
stone, the walls being from four to fifteen feet in thick- 
ness. ‘The circuit of the entire manor was not less than 
nineteen or twenty miles, within which were included 
nearly eight hundred acres of woods, “ the like,” say the 
surveyors, “both for strength, state, and pleasure, not 
being within the realm of iingland.” 

the magnificent pile had in fact been reared by the 


THE PENNY -MAGAZINE, 


85 


labours of four centuries, almost every proprietor into 
whose hands it passed having added something to its 
extent, beauty, and grandeur. John of Gaunt, in par- 
ticular, and Dudley Earl of Leicester, had spared no 
expense to make it, what it was acknowledged eventually 
to be, the noblest mansion in England. Dugdale states 
that the sum expended on the build: _ by the latter did 
not fall short of £60,000. At the wmmencement of 
the civil wars Kenilworth was in ali its glory. But it 
was also on the eve of its destruction. On the ascendancy 
of the republicans, Cromwell bestowed the property upon 
some of his officers, who demolished the castle, and sold 
such of its materials as could be removed for what they 
would bring. For many years after this, its bare and 
crumbling walls were left exposed to the depredations of 
all who chose to make a quarry of them, till the place 
was reduced to the state in which it now is. 

Still, as we have said, the ruin is an extensive and 
magnificent one. Mr. Britton, in his Architectural An- 
tiquities, has given a ground-plan of the building, from 
which a good idea may be formed of what it was in its 
prouder days. very thing essential to it, either asa 
residence or a fortress, seems to have been contained 
within the ample sweep of its encompassing battlements. 
Its south, east, and west sides were surrounded by a 
broad belt of water, which could also be carried round 
the north. Out-jutting towers of defence guarded it at 
every point. ‘The interior comprehended two ample 
courts, named the upper and the lower ward, a large 
garden and a tilt-yard, surrounded with splendid gal- 
leries for the accommodation of the spectators. At the 
end farthest removed from the chief buildings stood the 
stables; near them was the water tower; and not far 
off, another erection, probably used as the prison of the 
castle. ‘The inhabited part consisted of various suites 
of apartments, many of which seem to have been of the 
most superb description. The great hall, which was 
built by John of Gaunt, and the walls of which are still 
standing, was of the dimensions of eighty-six feet in 
length by forty-five in width. 

The appearance of Kenilworth in its present dilapi- 
dated state is picturesque in the extreme. Much of it 
is covered and overhung with ivy and other clinging 


shrubs, intermixing. their evergreen beauty with the 


veuerable tints of the mouldering stonework. The noble 
moat, or lake, as. it might more properly be called, in 
the midst of which it once stood, and which in former 
times used to be stored with fish and fowl, is now almost 
dried up. But, besides the hall, already mentioned, 
vast portions of the pile are still standing in the same 
dismantled state. . The walls of the hall are perforated 
by a series of lofty windows on each side; and spacious 
fire-places have been formed at both the ends. Another 
remarkable part of the ruin is a tall dark-coloured tower, 
near the centre, supposed to have been built by Geftrey 
de Clinton, and to be the only portion now existing of 
his castle. ike many of the old fortresses, both in this 
country and on the continent, it has obtained the desig- 
nation of Cresar’s Tower, probably from the fancy that 
it was erected by that conqueror. One of the gate- 
houses, the work of the Earl of Leicester, is also still 
tolerably entire. The different ruins are still known by 
the names of Jancaster’s and Leicester’s buildings, in 
memory of their founders. One portion is called King 
Henry’s apartments, being that in which it Is said King 
Henry VIII. was wont to lodge. . 

But the brightest era in the history of Kenilworth was 
in the reign of Elizabeth. ‘The old fame of Leicester's 
splendid festivities has been lately revived among us by 
the graphic pen of Scott, whose rich fancy has also 
peopled the desolation of this fine ruin with some of its 
most vivid creations, although in this instance at the 
expense, it must be allowed, of no slight deviation from 
historic truth. But the hospitalities of Kenilworth had 


been celebrated long ago both in prose aud verses 


86 


Queen Elizabeth thrice visited Leicester after he had 
taken possession of this princely domain, first in 1565, 
again in 1572, and for the third time in 1575. It was 
on this last occasion, when the royal visit lasted for seven- 
teen days, that the entertainments were most remarkable 
for their cost and gorgeousness. <A long and minute 


account of them was soon after published by a person of 


the name of Laneham, who.was in attendance on her 
Majesty ;- and George Gascoigne, the poet, who wrote 
a mask that was acted on the occasion, also sent his 
production to the press. Both works are to be found in 
the first volume of Mr. Nichols’s Progresses and Public 
Processions of Queen Elizabeth, published in 3 vols. 4to. 


in 1823. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrion 4. 
Wr have shown that the crust of the globe is composed 
of two great classes of rocks, one of which consists of a 
series of beds of stone of different kinds, lying upon one 
another in a certain determinate order of succession, 
called the Stratified Rocks or the Strata; the other ofa 
class of stones distinguishable from the strata by peculiar 
mineral composition, by never containing pebbles or the 
remains of animals and plants, and by never being 
arranged in parallel layers, and from which last cha- 
racter they have been denominated the Unstratified 
Rocks. We shall now proceed to show in what manner 
these two classes of rocks are associated together. It is 





uite evident that the mode of formation of the two. 


must have been totally different. While the strata, by 


their parallel arrangement, the pebbles of pre-existing — 
rocks, and remains of living bodies which they contain, - 
demonstrate that they must have been formed under water, | 


(A) 

A and B are mountains of granite or of whinstone, 
with strata of limestone lying uponit. From A branches 
or shoots connected with the principal mass are seen to 
penetrate into the superincumbent strata, and in the 
mountain B the granite overlies the limestone for a con- 
siderable way near the top, as if it had flowed over at 
that place, and lower down it has forced its way between 
two strata, ending like a wedge. Now as the pene- 
trating substance must necessarily be of subsequent 
formation to the body that it penetrates, it is evident that 
the granite must’ have been formed after the limestone, 
although the latter rests upon it. But if any doubt 
remained, it would be removed by the additional fact.that 
the granite veins in the mountain A contain angular 
fragments of limestone, identical with the strata above, 
and the fractured ends are seen to fit the places of the 
continuous stratum from which they have been broken off. 

The posteriority of the formation of the unstratified 
rocks to the strata ts thus made evident from their rela- 
tive positions; their forcible ejection from below is 
equally proved by the penetration of their veins or shoots 
into the superincumbent strata in an upward direction, 
often with the most slender ramifications to a great 
distance, and by the portions broken from the strata and 
enveloped in the substance of the vein. ‘That they were 
ejected in a soft melted state, produced by the action of 
heat, is shown by the close resemblance in mineral com- 
position of the unstratified rocks to the products of 
existing volcanoes, and by remarkable changes often ob- 
served to haye taken place in the strata where they come 
in contact with granite and whinstone. Soft chalk is 
converted into e hard crystalline limestone like statuary 


THE PENNY 








[ No. 4.] 


MAGAZINE. [Marca 2, 
by deposition from the surface downwards, the whole 
characters of the unstratified rocks equally prove that 
they must have come éo the surface from the interior of 
the earth, after the deposition of the strata; that is, that 
they have been ejected among the strata from below in 
a melted condition, either fluid or in a soft yielding state. 
Geologists have come to this conclusion, from a careful 
examination and comparison of the unstratified rocks 
with the products of existing volcanoes, or those burning’ 
mountains that have thrown out streams of melted stone 
or lava, both in past ages, as recorded in history, and in 
our own time. By this comparison they have discovered 
a great similarity, often an identity, of composition be- 
tween the unstratified rocks and lava, and the closest 
analogy in the phenomena exhibited by the masses of 
both kinds, and in their relations to the stratified rocks 
with which they come in contact. 

In every case the unstratified rocks lie under the stra- 
tified. ‘This order has never been reversed, except in 
cases which have been afterwards discoyered to be de- 
ceptive appearances, and where they have been protruded 
between strata, as will be afterwards mentioned. But it 
may be said that this fact of inferiority of position is no 
proof of ejection from below, far less of posteriority of 
formation, for they might have been the foundation on 
which the strata are deposited; their eruption from the 
interior, and that that eruption took place after the 
strata were formed, are proyed by other evidence, as we 
shall presently show. 

A section of the crust of the earth, where the stratified 
and unstratified rocks have been found associated together. 
has often exhibited the appearance represented by the 
diagram No. 4. 





(B) 


marble; clay and sandstone are changed into a sub- 
stance as hard and compact as flint, and coal is turned 
into coke; all of them changes which are analogous to 
what takes place when the substances are subjected to a 
strong artificial heat under great pressure. In the case 
of coal it is very remarkable; for when a bed of that 
substance, and a stratum of clay lying next it, come in 
contact with whinstone, the tar of the coal is often driven 
into the clay, and the coal loses all property of giving 
flame, although, at a distance from the whinstone, it is of 
a rich caking quality. 

We have shown that we are enabled to fix a chrono- 
logicai order of succession of the strata with a consider- 
able degree of precision, and although we have not the 
same accurate meaus of determining the relative ages of 
the unstratified rocks, there are yet very decisive proofs 
that certain classes of them are older than others, that 
different members of the same class have been ejected at 
distinct periods, and that the same substances have been 
thrown up at different times far distant from each other. 
Granite, in veins, has never been seen to penetrate be- 
yond the lower strata; but whinstone and the lavas o. 
existing volcanoes protrude in masses, and send out 
veins through all the strata: veins of one sort of granite 
traverse masses of another kind, and whinstone and 
basalt veins are not only found crossing masses and 
other veins of similar rocks, but even of granite. Upon 
the principle, therefore, before stated, that the penetrating 
substance must necessarily have been formed subse- 
quently to the body penetrated, the above phenomena 
demonstrate successive formations or eruptions of the 
unstratified rocks. , 


1833.] 


As the highly elevated, broken and contorted positions 
of the strata are only explicable- on the supposition of a 
powerful force acting upon them from below, and as 
they are seen so elevated and contorted in the neighbour- 
hood of the unstratified rocks, it is a very legitimate 
inference that the mountain chains and other inequalities 
on the earth’s surface have been occasioned by the 
horizontally deposited strata having been heaved up by 
the eruption of these rocks, although they may not 
always appear, but be only occasionally protruded to the 
surface, through the rents produced by the eruptive force. 
The phenomena of earthquakes are connected with the 
same internal action, aud these have often been accom- 
panied by permanent elevations of entire portions of a 
country. ‘This theory of the elevation of mountains by 
a foree acting from the interior of the earth is not a mere 
inference from appearances presented by rocks, but is 
supported by numerous events which have occurred 
repeatedly within the period of history down to our own 
time. In the middle of a gulf in the island of Santorino, 
in the Grecian Archipelago, an island rose from the sea 
144 years before the Christian era; in 1427 it was 
raised in height and increased in dimensions; in 1573 
another island arose in the same gulf, and in 1707 a 
third. These islands are composed of hard rock, and in 
that last formed there are beds of limestone and of other 
rocks containing shells. In the year 1822, Chili was 
visited by a violent earthquake which raised the whole 
line of coast for the distance of above one hundred miles 
to the height of three or four feet above its former level. 
Valparaiso is situated about the middle of the tract thus 
permanently elevated. A portion of Cutch, near the 
mouth of the Indus, underwent a similar revolution in the 
year 1819, when a district, nearly sixty miles in length by 
sixteen in breadth, was raised by an earthquake about ten 
feet above its original level. A volcanic eruption burst 







(2) 


There are here five different series of strata, a, 4, c, 
d,e. Now, it is evident, that the series @ must have 
been first disturbed ; that, after its change of position, 
the series 6 and e were deposited, covering the ends of 
the strata of the series @. But c appears to have been 
acted upon by two forces at distant points, when thrown 
out of its horizontal position, for the strata dip in oppo- 
site directions, forming a basin-shaped cavity, in which 
the series d was deposited: In like manner, after the 
disturbance of c, the series e Was deposited, covering the 
ends of c; but the internal force which raised the beds e 
from the depths of. the sea to the summit of the moun- 
tain where they are now seen, appears to have acted in 
such a direction as.to have carried up the whole mass 
without disturbing the original horizontality of the 
structure. It is obvious that all the interior strata must 
have. partaken of this last disturbance. ‘There are, 
besides, numerous proofs that there have been not only 
frequent elevations of the strata, but also depressions ; 
that the same strata which had been at one time raised 
above the surface of the sea had again sunk down, pre- 
Serving an inclined position ; that they had formed the 
ground upon which new sediment was deposited, and 
had again been raised up, carrying along them the more 
recently formed strata. 

In our next section we shall proceed to point out cer- 
tain great divisions in the series of stratified rocks, which 


are “gunded upon the chronological order of super- | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


87 


out in an adjoining part of India at Bhooi at the exact 
period wien the shocks of this earthquake terminated. 
These cases must not be confounded with the production 
of new mountains, such as that of Jorullo in Mexico in 
the year 1759, which was raised to the height of 1600 
feet above the table land of Malpais by eruptions of 
scorie and the outpouring of lava. ‘The appearance of 
a uew island off the coast of Sicily in the year 1831 is 
another pheuomenon of the latter class. It rose from 
a part of the sea which was known by soundings a few 
years before to have been 600 feet deep, to the height of 
107 feet above the water, and formed a circumference of 
nearly two-thirds of a mile. It was composed of loose 
cinders, and the part that rose above the level of the sea 
was washed away in the winter of the same year, but an 
extensive shoal remains. 

It must not be supposed that these internal move- 
ments only took place after the whole series of strata, 
represetited in diagram No. 1*, had been deposited. 
‘There must have been long intervals between the termi- 
nation of the deposition of one member of the series and 
the commencement of that of the stratum immediately 
above it; and internal movements accompanied with dis- 
turbance of the already deposited strata, after they had 
come to consolidate into stone, appear to have taken 
place during the whole period that the strata, from the 
lowest to the uppermost in the series, were deposited. 
The clearest evidence of this is afforded by certain 
appearances exhibited by tle strata in all parts of the 
globe that have yet been examined. ‘The diagram, 


No. 5, represents a case of very common occurence, 
and will explain our meaning: it must be borne in 
mind that it is an acknowledged principle in geology 
that all stratified rocks, in whatever position they are 
now found, must have been originally deposited hori- 
zontally 


t e or 
bi 
Cet 





(e) 


(c) 


position, whicn we have described in this and*the pre 
ceding sections. 


LORD SOMERS. 


Tue 4th of March has been sometimes stated to be the 
birth-day of Lord Somers; but neither the day on 
which he was born, nor even the year, is known with 
certainty. It rather appears that the latter was 1650, 
although some accounts male it to have been 1652. 
The father of this distinguished lawyer and statesman 
was an attorney, residing in the town of Worcester. 
Here his son John, the subject of our present notice, 
was born. He was remarked from his earliest years for 
a sobriety and steadiness of disposition, which even pre- 
vented him from joining much in the sports of those of 
his own age; but both at school and at the university 
he distinguished himself rather by his studiousness than 
by the brilliancy of his talents. He was entered as a 
Gentleman Commoner of Trinity College, Oxford, in 
1674, and was called to the bar by the Society of the 
Middle Temple in 1676. He did not, however, com- 
mence the exercise of his profession till some years after 
this; remaining at Oxford till 1681, when his father 
died, and_left him a small property. Meanwhile he had 
been most industriously storing his mind both with 
leval and general knowledge, aud had even appeared as 
a writer, by taking part in a translation of Plutarch’s 
*é '# Sea Penny Magazine, No. 51, page 21, 


§S 


Lives, and another, in verse, of Ovid's Epistles, which 
were published by ‘Tonson. Some ‘Tracts, on points of 
Constitutional Law, also proceeded froin his pen about 
this time, which attracted much notice. Having re- 
moved to London in 1682, and soon after begun to 
practise at the bar, he rapidly rose to professional dis- 
tinction. In the great trial of the Seven Bishops, which 
took place in the Court of King’s Bench on the 29th of 
June, 1688, Somers was engaged as one of the counsel 
for the defendants. His appearance on this occasion 
brought him conspicuously before the nation, both as 
one of the ablest lawyers of the day, and one of the 
most formidable champions of the popular party in the 
state. It is understood, indeed, that he was already 
one of the confidential advisers of the Prince of Orange. 
Accordingly, at the close of this year, when the Prince, 
after his landing, summoned the Convention, Somers 
wus chosen as a representative to that assembly by his 
native town of Worcester. He took a leading part in 
the discussions which followed, and especially. distin- 
guished himself in the conference between the Lords 
and Commons, on the famous resolution of the latter, 
that the King, James II., had abdicated the govern- 


ment, and that the throne was thereby become vacant. | 


He also acted as chairman of the second of the two 
committees appointed to arrange the securities of the 
new settlement, on whose report was founded the Decla- 
ration of Right; and is probably, therefore, to be con- 
sidered as one of the chief among “ those, whose pene- 
trating’ style,’ as Burke has strikingly expressed it, 
‘‘has engraved in our ordinances, and in our hearts, the 
words .and spirit of that immortal law.’ Soon after 
the accomplishment of the Revolution he was made 
Solicitor-General, and knighted. On the 2d of May, 
1692, he exchanged this office for that of Attorney- 
General; and on the 23d of March, in the following 
year, he was elevated to the dignity of Lord Keeper of 
the Great Seal. Ie presided in the Court of Chancery 
under this title till the 22d of April, 1697, when he was 
appointed Lord High Chancellor, and raised to the 
peerage as Baron Somers of Evesham. ‘The King also 
bestowed upon him at the same time a grant of the 
manors of Reygate and Howleigh in Surrey, worth 
about £600 per annum, together with an annuity in 
money of £2,100. The place which he now occupied 
was no higher than that to which the most competent 
judges, and indeed the public generally, had long re- 
e'arded him as both destined and entitled. ‘ ‘Though he 
had made a recular progress,” says Addison, (‘ Free- 
holder,’ No. 39,) “through the several honours of the 
long-robe, he was always looked upon as one who 
deserved a superior station, till he arrived at the highest 
dignity to which these studies could advance him.” 

In the parliament, however, which met in December, 
1695, the party to which Lord Somers had been all his 
life opposed, appeared in great and unusual strength. 
It was not long. before they: began to direct the most 
violent and persevering. attacks against the Chancellor. 
Of their charges, we can only afford room to state, that 
they now seem to be considered, by historians of all 
shades of opinion, as entirely without foundation. At the 
time, however, they served the purpose of their authors 
too well. After varions other proceedings, on the LOth 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Mancu 2, 1833, 


But even the dismissal of Lord Somers did not put 
an end to the persecution ef which he was the object. 
On the 14th of April, 1701, the House of Commons sent 
up articles of impeachment against him to the Lords. 
When the day for the trial came, however, nobody ap- 
peared to support the charges; and his lordship was of 
course acquitted. He now retired altogether for some 
time from public affairs, devoting himself to those literary 
and scientific pursuits which in his busiest days he had 
never entirely neglected. He had always indeed shown 
himself in the days of his power a zealous patron of 
literature. Among the eminent persons whom his en- 
couragement contributed to bring into notice may be 
mentioned the celebrated Mr. Addison, who dedicated to 
him one of his early poems, and also, in 1702, his Travels 
in Italy, in a very flattering address. The first voluine 
of the Spectator is likewise dedicated to Lord Somers. 
In 1702 his lordship was elected President of the Royal 
Society, of which he had long been a’member. 

He afterwards returned to public life; and in 1706 
introduced a very important bill, for removing certain 
defects in the practice of the courts of law. He has also 
the credit of having been the chief projector of the union 
with Scotland, and he certainly took an active part in 
the promotion of that measure. He was also again in 
place, as President of the Council, from 1708 to 1710; 
and even after his second dismissal from office, in the 
latter year, continued for some time to be an active and 
powerful debater in the House of Lords. His health, 
however, at length began rapidly to decline, and although 
he appeared at the Council Board after the accession of 
George I., both his body and mind were by that time so 
much enfeebled as to incapacitate him from taking. any 
share in business. At last, on the .26th of April, 1716, 
a stroke of apoplexy terminated his sufferings in ‘death. 
Lord Somers never was married, and his estates went 
to the descendants of a sister. 


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of April, 1700, an address was moved in: the House of |) == 


Commons for the dismissal of the Chancellor. It was 
uegatived ; but King William, alarmed by the pertimacity 
of the enemies of his able and honest minister, aud 
actuated by the hope that by that sacrifice the clamours 
of the faction might be appeased, a few days after asked 
Lord Somers to make a voluntary. surrender of the seals. 
His lordship did not think that it became him thus to 
assist by his owu act those who wished to accomplish his 
degradation, and he respectfully refused to comply with 
the yoyal request. ‘The King then sent an express de- 
niand for the seals, when they were instantly delivered, 


~~ 





[ Portrait of Lord Somers. } 








Somety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
. 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. : 


*e” The Office of the 
LONDON :—-CHARLES KNIGUT, PALL MALL EAST. 


Oe eam 


j Printed by 








OF THE 


society for. the Diffusion of Useful Knowledzce. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Marcu 9, 1833. 





HOTEL DE VILLE,;OR TOWN-HOUSE OF BRUSSELS. 





Havina in a former number given a brief description of 
the capital of Belgium, we shall now speak more parti- 
cularly of the Town-house of Brussels, or Hotel de Ville 
as it is called in the French language. When we read 
of the noble public edifices that adorn so many towns 
in the Low Countries, and the numerous usefill works 
that have been executed to favour commerce and pro- 


mote the general welfare, 
Vou. IT, 


" [Hotel de Ville of Brussels.] 


we are naturally led to inquire 





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into the history of a people, who, though living on a 
very limited territory, have held a most important rank 
in Europe for many centuries. | 
We find that before England had become the seat of 
manufacturing Industry, and lone before she had im- 
proved her internal communication by good roads and 
canals, the industrious people of the Low Countries had 
acquired both these important instruments of wealth + 
P N 


99) 


and though living in the midst of the remains of feudal 
tyranny, the towns had obtained privileges which their 
masters could not often venture to trample on, and the 
spirit of a democratic constitution tempered and con- 
trolled the sovereignty of the monarch and the nobles. 
The description® which we are about to give of this 
building, and of its uses, applies to a period before the 
first French Revolution, while the old magistracy of the 
town still existed, and Brussels belonged to the house 
of Austria. | 

The Grand Place (by an oversight called the Place 
Royal in the former article on Brussels), called also the 
ereat market, is an oblong square. lts chief ornament 
5s the Hotel de Ville, or ‘town-hall, a Gothic building of 
a square form, and the handsomest structure of the kind 
in the Low Countries. ‘This edifice was commenced in 
1400, and finished in 1442. ‘The tower, which is of a 
pyrainidal form, does not stand precisely in the centre of 
the building. Its height is 364 feet, and its summit is 
crowned with a gilded statue of St. Michael trampling a 
dragon under his feet. ‘The statue itself is 17 feet high, 
and as it turns with the wind serves the purpose of a 
weathercock. Like all the rest of the edifice this tower 
is built of a very durable blue-coloured stone. 

The principal door is immediately under the tower, 
and an open piazza, which runs the whole length of 
the front, is formed by columns, which support a ter- 
race of the same depth as the piazza itself. ‘his 
terrace is ornamented with a stone-sculptured balus- 
trade, loaded with ornaments. On the right side of 
the piazza is a staircase, by which we enter the rooms 
of the building, and this is properly the real entrance. 
The front has forty windows, and between each is a niche, 
desiened to receive statues of the sovereigns and cele- 
brated men of Brabant. The roof is slated, and pierced 
with about eighty small windows, which have pointed tops 
or coverings, and gilded ornaments. On the entablature 
of the wall a balustrade rises breast high, and serves as 
the finish. The top of the roof is covered with lead, 
and variously ornamented. On passing through the 
principal door we come to an oblong square, or court; 
the buildings which form it were erected after the bom- 
bardment of 1695, when the French, under Marshal 
Villeroi, destroyed fourteen churches, and several thou- 
sand houses. ‘This court contains two fountains, each 
adorned with a statue of white marble, representing a 
river-god reclining in the midst of reeds, and resting 
one arm on an urn. All the rooms of the edifice are 
capacious and elevated, and each was appropriated to 
sone ,particular purpose. ‘That in which the states of 
Brabant met, together with its appendages, is in the 
part constructed after the bombardment of 1695, and 
merits a particular notice. It is connected with four 
other apartments, one of which used to be occupied 
by the officers of the states; there was also the re- 
gistry room near it, and several other apartments of 
small: size. ‘The great room is reached by a gallery, 
containing six portraits of dukes of. Brabaut by C. 
Grangé. In three of the chambers are tapestries, which 
were made from the designs of Le Brun, and have 
reference to the history of Clovis. ‘The ceiling of thie 
second was painted by V. H. Janssens, and is an alle- 
vorical representation of the three estates of Brabant 
—the clergy, nobility, and the tiers état; which last 
consisted of the towns of Louvain, Brussels, and Ant- 
werp. Over the chimney is a pictnre representing God- 
frey ITI., called the bearded, in his cradle, which is hung 
from a tree in the midst of his army. ‘The sight of 
the cradle animated his soldiers to such a degree, that 
after three days’ fighting they gained a decisive victory 
over the confederate princes of Grimberghe and Malines. 
Over the chimney in the .third room are the portraits of 
Maximilian of Austria and Maria of Burgundy. ‘The 
fourth room, that in which the states assembled, and 

* Description de Bruxelles, 1743, Do, 1782, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 9, 
which was called the states’-chamber, is highly orna- 
mented: over the chimney is a portrait of a Prince of 
Lorrain, painted by Lins. The canopy and its adjunets 
were of crimson velvet, ornamented with gold fringe. 
Under the canopy is a standing portrait of Joseph IL1., 
painted by Herreyhs of Antwerp. “The ceiling, which 
was painted by Janssens, represents the assembly of the 
eods: the cornice is enriched with gilded sculpture. 
Between the windows are painted the three cluef towns, 
Louvain, Brussels, and Aatwerp. All the part of the wall 
opposite the window is furnished with beautiful tapes- 
tries—one representing the inanguration of Charles VL, 
another the abdication of Charles V., and the third the 
inaucuration of Philip the Good. These tapestries were 
executed by L. Legniers, after the designs of Janssens. 
On each side of the throne are two mirrors, under each 
of which is a table, made of a composition to imitate 
marble *, and on this composition the topographical 
maps of Brabant are cut with the greatest accuracy. 
The great table which was placed in the middle of the 
room was 12 feet wide and 40 long, and covered with 
velvet, which was ornamented with a deep fringe of 
gold, and hung down on the floor. 

The Hotel de Ville of Brussels enjoyed a large in- 
cone, arising from the duties levied on provisions, 
drinkables, and the rents of permanent property, such as 
our corporations possess. ‘The magistracy of the town 
had at its head a functionary called Amman (amimann 
in German, i.e. office-man), who, with his lieutenant, 
secretaries, revistrars of the town and the treasury, were 
for life. ‘The other officers of the town were changeable 
yearly, but could be continued at the pleasure of the 
sovereign. ‘Lhe amman, being the first of the Officers 
who composed the municipal body of Brussels, was, 
with Ins lieutenant, nained by the soverei@n; aud it was 
required that he, as well as his lieutenant, should be 
natives of Brabant, of noble birth, and born in wedlock. 

The burgomasier, the seven échevins (sheriffs), the two 
treasurers, and the superintendent of the Rivage}, were 
named by the sovereign out of seven patrician families, 
and, as we have said, could be continued in office as 
long as the sovereign wished. ‘The newly-chosen magis- 
trates elected from among the burgesses, who composed 
the naltons, a burgomaster, nine counsellors, two re- 
ceivers of the town, and the receiver of the Rivage, who 
composed the large council. ‘These men were the re- 
celvers, uot the treasurers of the town, and had the 
management of all the town money: they received, 
payed, and finally accounted before the magistrates, the 
large council, and the deans of the nations. ‘These 
nations represented the body of the Brussels burgesses, 
aud were nine in number, each nation forming a body 
containing several trades. Hach trade had its deans, 
and its own separate council, composed of the old desns; 
and each 2alion also had its council, composed in like 
minanner of old deans; and every nation had the name 
of some male or female saint. When the monarch made 
any demand, the nine nations jomed the large council 
and the town magistrates, to deliberate if the demand 
should be granted or refused. ‘he magistrates of the 
town had one vote, and the large council and each of 
the nations one, which in al} made eleven. If the ma- 
jority was in favour of the demand, it was granted ; if 
against, it was finally rejected. ‘The nations assembled 
at the Hotel de Ville at the sound of a bell, called the 
bell of the nations. 

‘To be made a citizen (burgess) of Brussels a person 
applied to the town magistrates, and on the payment: of 
a certain sum was admitted asa citizen. But if a man 
wished to carry on a trade, or some particular meclhia- 


* Deux trumeaux de trés ‘fines glaces.—Description de Bruxelles, 
1743. Some say jasper. 

+ A part of Brussels containing the corn-quay, the turf-quay, 
and other places, to receive the commodities broug‘ht by the canals 
or other communications, 


1$33.] 


nical business, it was not enough to be made a citizen: 
it was necessary to be admitted also into the community 
of the business or art which he wished to follow. Some 
professions however were open, such as that of banker 
and agent. ‘The Hotel de Ville then, it appears, from 
this statement, served, among other purposes, as a place 
of: deliberation for the representatives of the city of 


Brnssels, whenever any business of great importance | 


ealled them together. The complicated form of go- 
vernmeut which formerly prevailed in these old cities 
may be imagined from the little that we have stated 
about it; and the system of privileges and restrictions 
as to the free exercise of trade, whatever advantages it 
may haye had at first (for such things sometimes have 
their rise in a really useful principle, though more fre- 
quently they have rested on erroneous notions), must 
have ultimately proved detrimental to these cities. ‘The 


history of Aix-la-Chapelle, with the factions and fends of 


the contending interests, is one of the most curious and 
instructive that we can refer to. 





AFAR IN THE DESERT. 


Arar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent bush-boy alone by my side, 

When the sorrows of life the soul o’ercast, 

And, sick of the present, I turn to the past; 

When the eye is suffused with regretiul tears 

From the fond recollections of former years, 

And shedlows of things that have long since fled 

Vit over the brain, hke ghosts of the dead ;— 

Bright visions of glory that vanished too sooa,— 
Day-~ireams that departed ere manhood’s noon,-- 
Attachments by fate or by falschood reft,— 

Companions of carly days lost or left ; 

And my native lan—whose magical name 

Thrills to the heart like electric flame,— 

The home of my childhood,—the haunts of my prime,— 
All the passions and scenes of that rapturous time 
When the feelings were young, and the world was new). 
Like the fresh bowers of Eden unfolding to view ;— 
Ali—all now forsaken, forgotten, foregone ! 

And I—a lone exile remembered of none— 

My high aims abandoned,—my good acis undone,— 
Aweary of all that is under the sun,— © 

With that sadness of heart which no stranger may scan, 
I fly to the desert afar from mau} 


Afnr in the desert I love to nde, 
With the silent bush-boy alone hy my side, 
When the ways of the world oppress the heart, 

_ And I’m tired of its vanity, vilenéss, and art ; 

~ When the wild turmoil of this wearisome Irfe, 
With its scenes of oppression, corruption, and strife,— 
The proud man’s frown, and the base man’s fear, — 
The scorner’s laugh, and the sufferer’s tear,— 
And malice, and meanness, and falschood, and folly, 
Dispose me to musing and dark melancholy ; 
When my bosom is full, and my thoughts are high, 
And my soul is sick with the bondman’s sigh— 
Oh! then there is freedom, and joy, and pride, 
Afar in the desert alone to ride ! 
There is rapture to vault on the champing stced, 
And to bound away with the eagle’s speed, 
With the death-fraught firelock in my hand— 
Lhe only law of the desert land! 


Afar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent bush-boy alone by my side; 
Away—away from the dwellings of men, 

By the wild-deer’s haunt, by the buffalo’s glen 5. 

By valleys remote where the oribi plays, | 
Where the gnu, the gazelle, and the hartébcest graze, 
And the gemsbok and eland unhimted recline 

By the skirts of grey forests o’erhung with wild-vine ; 
Where the elephant browses at peace in his wood,. 
Aud the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood, 
Aud the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will 

In the v’ley* where the wild-ass is drinking his fill; 


Afar in the desert I love to nde, 

With the silent bush-boy alone by my side,’ 

O’er the brown Karroo, where the bleating cry 

Of the springbok’s fawn sounds plaintively ; 
Where the zebra wantonly tosses his mane 

As he scours with his troop o’er the desolate plain ; 


* ley, or valet, a lake or marsh, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


91 


And the timorous quagha’s whistling neigh 

Is heard by the fountain at fall of day ; 

And the fleet-footed ostrich over the waste 
Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste, 
Hying away to the home of her rest 

Where she and her mate have scooped their nest, 
Far hid from the pitiless plunderer’s view 

In the pathless depths of the parched Karroo. 


Afar in the desert I love to ride, 

With the silent bush-boy alone by my side ; 
Away—away—in the wilderness vast, 

Where the white man’s foot hath never passed, 
And the quivered Coranna or Bechuan 

Hath rarely crossed with his roving clan: 

A region of emptiness, howling and drear, 
Which man hath abandoned from famine and fear ; 
Where grass, nor herb, nor shrub takes root, 
Save poisonous thorns that pierce the foot ; 
And the bitter-melon, for food and drink, 

Is the pilgrim’s fare by the salt-lake’s brink: 
A region of drought, where uo river glides, 
Nor rippling brook with osiered sides ; 

Where reedy pool, nor palm-girt fountain, 
Nor shady tree, nor cloud-capt mountain, 

Is found, to refresh the aching eye : 

But the barren earth, and the burning sky, 
And the blank horizon, round and round, 
Without a break—without a bound, 
Spread—void of living sight or sound. 


And here, while the night-winds round me sigh, 
And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky, 
As I sit apart by the desert stone, 

Like Elijah at Horeb’s cave alone, 

“ A still small voice” comes through the wild— 
Like a father consoling his fretful cluld— 
Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear,— 
Saying —* MAN Is DISTANT, BUT GOD IS NEAR?” 


*.* The above poem was written about ten years ago at the Cape 
of Good Hope. It first appeared in the ‘South African Journal’ 
for April 1824; and has been since reprinted, sometimes very in- 
accurately, in several collections of fugitive poetry. The present 
copy has been revised by the author (Mr. T. Pringle) for this 
publication. 





SIMPLIFIC.A TIONS OF ARITHMETICAL RULES. 
No. 4. 


Previousty to showing the way of finding how much a 
eiven sum per year wil! yield per day, we will make one 
yemark on the use to be made of the remainder in 
division. When the remainder is to be thrown away, if 
it be as great as lialf the divisor, the last fignre of the 
quotient should be inereased by 1. Thus 97 divided by 
11, which gives the quotient 8 and the remainder 9, or 
8,2, should rather be written 9 than 8, when the fraction 
is to be thrown away. 

Again, division by 20 is the same as division by 2, 
if the quotient be removed one place more to the right 
than would be the case in division by 2. ‘hus, 

20)1573 
78 xem. 13 
or 79 rejecting the fraction. 

To find how much a given sum, say £2739. 19s. 83d. 
per year, will yield per day, first convert this sum as in 
No. 1, retaining only the first figure found from the 
shillings, or annexing a cipher if there be less than 





two shillings, which gives 27399. Divide first by four, 


then by eleven, then by twenty, repeating the successive 
divisions by eleven and ¢wenty, until there 1s no longer 
any quotient, and atteuding to the above remark in 
disposing ef the remainder. Add all the quotients as 


follows :—- 
4)27399 


ee Se 


11) 6850* 
20) 623 
Add) 43) 31 
¥ 
7507 
* This ought to be 6849, with a remainder 3. Throw away the 
3, and increase the quotient by 1, which gives 6890. 


N 2 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Marcu 9, 
-which gives. £164,383. lls. 2$d., within a farthing of 
the trnth. In such a case as this, where the pounds 
only are of consequence, we might have neglected the 
three columns on the right, which would have saved 
two divisions and shortened the rest. We should have 
begun, in that case, by striking off two ciphers instead 
of annexing: one. 

A near guess, sufficient for most purposes, may be 


© 
2 


Cut off the three last places 507, which convert: into 
shillings, pence, and farthings, as in No. 1, and let 
all the remaining places be pounds. ‘This gives 
sé7. 10s. 12d., which is within one farthing of the truth. 

Suppose it required to find how much sixty millions 
of pounds sterling gives per day. Amnnexing a cipher 
by the rule, dividing by 4, &c. we have 


; 4)600900000 obtained in the folowing way. The number of pence 

re yy. per.day. is very nearly two thirds of the number of 

jee te pounds per year. Hence subtract one-third of the 

11) 681818 pounds from the pounds, and let the result be pence. 

20) 61983 This resnlt is too great by about a farthing for every 

Add 1 1) 2099 ei@hteen pence in it, and too little by a farthing for every 
20) 289 eight shillings rejected in taking the pounds. For 

1}) 14 example, £100 gives above two thirds of 100d. per day, 


1 or about 67d., or 5s. 7d. This contains eighteen pence 
about three times, so that 5s. 6{d. is nearer the truth, 
which is about 5s. 52d, 








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THE opposite banks of the noble river which flows | satisfied to see the institutions founded oy the bounty of 


through the British metropolis, could not be more fitly 
adorned ‘than they are by those two great monuments of 
the public beneficence, the Hospitals of Greenwich and 
Chelsea. Both these retreats are splendid places; the 
former, especially, is one of the most magnificent palaces 
in the country; and yet their inmates are, for the most 
part, merely private soldiers and sailors. It may be said 
that they are, after all, but the abodes of persons of 
poor and low degree, and that there is an unsuitableness 
in giving those a palace to dwell in, whose mode of life 
in other respects is about on a level with that of the 
inhabitants of cottages. Thus might those argue who 
looked to the matter with a reference only to physical 
considerations, and could not, or would not, view it in its 
moral bearings,” But we should not,’ we confess, be 


the nation for the shelter of its veteran defenders, con- 
sist merely of so many ranges of hovels. The economy, 
we apprehend, would neither be appropriate nor pro- 
fitable. Jivery time one of our gallant seamen now 
casts his eye upon Greenwich, every time he has the 
gorgeous pile before him in fancy, it is an inspiration to 
him of the-same character with that which is derived 
from the anticipation of public honours in any other 
profession in which they may be gained. He feels 


proudly that in his old age he will not be accounted a 


burthen by his country, but that he shall.receive from 
her, and be held worthy of, something more than mere 
bread. 

. Chelsea Hospital is a very inferior structure to that of 
Greenwich as a display of ‘architectural beauty; but it 


1833] -- 


is-at Ieust a convenient-and neat building, and. alto- 
gether, with its airy and spacious courts and walks, far 
from being destitute of imposing effect. The desien is 
said to have been Sir Christopher Wren’s. It consists 
of three courts, two of which are coniplete quadrangles, 
while the central one is open on the side next the river. 
In the part of the building which fronts this opening 
are a large hall on the one ‘side and a chapel on the 
other, both of which contain some pictures, though none 
of any*great merit. ‘The chapel is 110 feet in length 
by 30 in width, and the hall is of the same dimensions. 
The only other large apartments in the building are 
some of those forming the lodgings of the governor, 
which are at the extremity of the eastern wine of the 
principal court. In the centre of the court stands a 
bronze statue of Charles II., in a Roman dress. 

The wards of the pensioners are sixteen in number, 
each being 200 feet in length and 12 in breadth, and 
containing twenty-six beds. ‘They occupy the greater 
portion of the two wings of the principal court, each of 
which is 365 feet in length. The officers have small 
separate apartments. ‘The other two courts contain ah 
urfirmary, furnished with hot and cold baths, and apart- 
ments for the treasurer, chaplain, apothecary, and other 
functionaries. ‘The regular number of in-pensioners is 
four hundred and seventy-six, of whom twenty-six are 
captains, thirty-two serjeants, thirty-two corporals, and 
the rest privates. But the institution also supports some 
thousands of out-pensioners. . 

The ground on which Chelsea Hospital now stands 
was formerly occupied by a college, founded in 1609 by 
Dr. Matthew Sutcliffe, Dean of Exeter, for a somewhat 
singular purpose. It was ordained to consist of a pro- 
vost and nineteen fellows, all to be in holy orders except 
two, whose business it should be.to wage a constant war 
of the pen with Roman Catholics, Arminians, Pela- 
eians, and other heretics. James I., who took a keen 
iuterest in the scheme, granted it a charter in 1610, in 
which it is declared that it should eo under the name.of 
King James’s College at Chelsea. It seems also to 
have been called the Controversy College. . This insti- 
tution had the honour of enrolling among its members 
Camden, who was nominated its historian, Sir Henry 
Spelman, Antonius de Dominis the celebrated’ Arch- 
bishop .of Spalatro, and. many learned divines ; but it 
never arrived at any. prosperity. The ‘subscriptions 
which Were solicited’ for’ its support could not be ob- 
tained ; and, although the founder left ‘it a considerable 
amount of -property at his death, ‘in 1629, it was found 
that only a small part even of this bequest could be re- 
covered. Buildings, however, of considerable extent had 
been erected. Soon after the restoration. the property 
appears to have been estreated to the crown, .which 
indeed had frequently before this assumed the power of 
making use-of the place for purposes of its own. | For 
some titne it Was used.as a receptacle for foreign pri- 
soners. At length, in 1669, Charles II. granted it to 
the newly incorporated Royal Society. ‘Chey retained 
possession of it till 1682, when they sold it back to the 
King for £1,300. ‘The old buildings were immediately 
thrown down, and on the 12th of May, in the same 
year, the first stone of the present fabric was laid by 
Charles himself, attended bya great number of the prin- 
cipal nobility and gentry. The crown, however, was 
not at the whole expense. of the erection. Large con- 
tributions to the work were made by several public- 
spirited individuals. Sir Stephen Fox, the ancestor of 
the present noble family of that name, gave no less a 
sum than £13,000. According to tradition the person 
who first sur@wested the project was the notorious Nel] 
Gwyn. She, according to the common story, is said to 
have prevailed upon the King to undertake the work, 
her compassion for the destitute’ situation of the dis- 
banded veterans of the army having 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 93 


excited by one of them coming up one day to the door 
of her coach, and soliciting charity, with a piteous tale 
of the wounds he had received in the royal cause. The 
edifice was not completed till the year 1690, in the 
reign of William and Mary. For. a fuller account of 
this hospital the reader may consult Lysons's Environs 
of London, and Faulkner’s History of Chelsea. 





ON THE NATURE OF CONSUMPTION AND 
OTHER DISEASES OF THE CHEST, 
In a preceding number of the Magazine we eave a short 
description of the structure and use of the human lung's ; 
and we shall now make a few observations on the prin- 
cipal diseases to which they are hable,-—namely, catarrh, 
pleurisy, inflammation of the lungs, and consumption. 
The first three are all of the nature of ordinary in- 
flammation, but as they have their seats in different parts 
of the lunes or their immediate connexions, medical men 
have assigned to them different names. ‘That the reader 
may have an idea of the source of these distinctions, he 
must be informed that the pulmonary organs have been 
divided by anatomists into three distinct textures, which 
may be individually or collectively the seat of disease. 
In the first place, branches of the windpipe perforate 
the lungs in every direction, and these as well as the 
windpipe are lined throughout by a delicate membrane 
similar to the lining of the mouth and nostrils; in- 
flammation of this membrane constitutes catarrh or 
common cold. Secondly, the ontside of each lune is 
covered by a still more delicate membrane, thin and. 
transparent like “silver” paper, called the pleura; inflam- 
mation of this membrane constitutes pleurisy. Thirdly, 
there is a texture contained between the internal and 
external membranes just described, which consists of the 
vessels and other proper substance of the lungs; inflam- 
mation of this intervening texture is what is known in 
technical langnage by the name of inflammation of the 
lings. Consumption is a disease of a nature quite apart. 


from that of ordinary inflammation. 


_No class of diseases have afforded, under certain ¢iy=- 
cumstances, more difficulty in their discrimination than, 
those of the chest. The various inflammatory, attacks 
when they existed in a severe deeree, have been at times’ 
confounded with each other; and. the protracted effects. 
of inflammation in the living body, are still frequently. 
mistaken by the public for the presence of consumption... 
A patient may have violent cough, frequent expectoration — 
of purulent matter, shortness of breath, sense of pain: or 


Oppression in the chest, wasting: of the flesh, hectic fever, 


and yet all these symptoms may be the consequence of 
an extensive and long continued attack of catarrh; or 


this (and it less rarely occurs) with the effects of a 


dangerous pleurisy, or of inflammation of the proper 
substance of the lungs. ‘The difficulty, experienced in 


attempting to discriminate these diseases is explained in. 


the fact that.they have many symptoms in common. 
Every severe derangement of the lungs and their con- 
nexions is sure to be accompanied with cough, shortness 
of breath, and one or more of the other symptoms 
enumerated above. The difficulty of discrimination is 
further acconnted for in the peculiar position of the 
lungs. As the lungs are contained within a bony case 
forined by the ribs, we are unable, when any portion of 
their structure is changed by disease, to ascertain either 
by our sight or our tonch the exact character and seat of 
the morbid change, and, if we have no other means of 
forming an opinion, we are obliged to depend on the 


external symptoms, which may, as has been previously 


observed, occasionally deceive us. 

Until the year 1916, indeed, no better way had been 
discovered of discriminating pulmonary diseases; but at 
this period, Dr. Loennec, an eminent physician of Paris, 
hit upon a new method. It consisted in applying the 


been strongly | ed to the purposes of discrimination, and the originality 


a 


94 


and strangeness of the discovery excited ereat surprise 
and no little incredulity amongst the profession Gr ine 
day. Dr. Leennec was led to ‘enter on this new path by 
a very simple circumstance. By bringing his ear near 
to the chest of a patient, he observed that certain sounds 
were emitted from the ehest during the act of breathing. 
Following up the hint, he constructed an instrument on 
the principle of an ear-trumpet that the sounds might be 
heard the more distinctly, and with this instrument, 
called a stethoscope, he commenced a series of observa- 
tions. ‘These observations, after having been prosecuted 
with astonishing assiduity for sever al years, ended in 
Lonnec’s giving publicity to the fruits of his labours. 
Their seneral result showed that the lungs when in a 
healthy state always emif during respir ation sounds of a 
peculiar character; and in the progress of their diseases 
that they emit sounds of a different description, each 
disease, singular to say, having its own variety of sounds. 
This, the acoustic mode of discrimination, has since had 
an extended trial, and its claims to utility are now recoe- 
nised by professional men in various parts of the world. 

‘The inflammatory diseases of the chest are as curable 
as inflammation in other parts of the body; but the 
consumptive disease is one of the most intractable with 
which we are acquainted.” Conscientious medical men 
at once admit that patients in whom consumption has 
been established very rarely recover; yet there are 
quacks who pretend to be able to cure every instance, 
and, what is still more to be regretted, such persons have 
often succeeded in bringing over a portion of the public 
to believe in their pretensions. It is not difficult, how- 
ever, to account for tliis apparent success. An affec- 
tionate mother for instance, who has delicate female 
children, is exceedingly apt, should any of them become 
subject to cough to take alarm, and to immediately con- 
clude that the “couch j isasign of the commencement of 
eonsumption. If, while under this i impression, the mother 
obtains the opinion of a quack, she ts certain to have her 
suspicions corroborated. . The child is then submitted to 
his treatment, and though the complaint be a common 
cold or any other complaint equally curable, he will 
publish the case, as soon as recovery.coimes about, as a 
cure of consumption, and the mother who was at first 
deceived by her own affectionate solicitude, and after- 
wards duped by the cunning of the impostor, will volun- 
_tarily attest his certificate of skill. ‘his is a fair sample 
of the manner in which quackery secures its advocates 
and its victims. On the list of the honourzble practi- 
tioner we never find these “ surprising cures.’ No, 
when he is consulted in such cases, he assures the mother 
that her impressions are groundless, prescribes for the 
patient, and, when the affection is removed, the only 
credit he claims or receives is the credit of having sub- 
dued a catarrh, or other result of common inflammatory 
action. ; 

Although the nicest judgment of the scientific physi- 
clan be occasionally required to discriminate consumption 
in the living body, from the chronic effects of pectoral 
inflammation, there is no difficulty in their discrimination 
when we come to examine the contents of the chest after 
death. In an examination of a consumptive patient 
after death, the lungs are found in a state which cannot 
be produced by any other known disease. Were the 
public in possession of any rational conception of this 
state, it would effectually shield them from the designs 
of those unprincipled persous who pretend to have a 
specific for its removal. In the language of medicine 
the lungs of consumptive patients are “said to contain 
tubercles. or small tumors, and we shall presently lay 
before the reader a sketch of the progress of these ex- 
traordinary and destructive bodies. 

The seeds of the disease, which will eventually estab- 
lish consumption, may be deposited in his lungs a con- 
siderable time before the patient is aware of any altera- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Mancn 9, 


tion in his general health. He may be ensared for 
weeks in the routine of business or of pleasure, previous 
to his receiving any warning of the pulmonary danger; 
unless, perhaps, in a trifline irritation about the top of 
the windpipe, accompanied by a dry tickle cough. A 
sight of the lungs, during this early stage, can be ob- 
tained only in ease the patient be destroyed by the 
inroad of some other disease, or by an accident. ‘Then, 
on opening the chest, the following < appearances present 
themselves, 

In the upper half of both Jungs, great numbers of 
roundish bodies, somewhat resembling small pearls, are 
seen scattered. ‘They are of a pale grey colour, and 
vary in size from that of a millet to that of a hempseed. 
They feel hard, and adhere to the substance of the lungs, 
in which they are set after tlie manner of currants in the 
surface of a pudding. ‘These are the remarkable bodies 
called tubercles. ‘Their structure is altoeether foreion to 
the healthy structure of the lungs; but the functional or 
organic change of the latter, “which must necessarily 
pr ecede tlieir formation, is not as yet clearly explained. 
In the obscurity of their origin, they resemble certain plants 
that suddenly spring up in ‘places where their species were 
previously unknown. It is certain, however, that the 
elements of tubercles are not derived from the atmo-" 
sphere, for they are often found in parts of the human 
frame, such as the bones, to which the atmospheric air 
cannot gain admission. 

‘This early. stage, we have remarked, may or may 
not be attended with slight external symptoms. The 
tubercles dre too small and too slow in their growth to 
disturb as yet, in ‘any marked degree, the vital “functions 
of the surrounding parts. The substance of the lunes 
quietly yields to their pressure, and the respiration is not 
sensibly affected by their morbid encroachment. But, 
once created, tubercles will, in a longer or shorter time, 
proceed through their accustomed course. ‘Their pro 
gress may be eonveniently divided into three stages, of 
which two stages remain to be described. 

In the first stage, the tubercles had attained the size 
of millet and of hempseeds. In the second stage, they 
continue to increase in size, and, drawing nearer to each 
other, they appear arranged into Irregular groups. <A 
yellow speck soon becomes developed in the centre of 
each tubercle, and, extending it. slowly, encroaches on 
the grey structure, of which the tuberele seemed ori- 
ginally composed, until the grey colour completely dis- 
appears in the yellow. Individually the size of the 
tumours may now be included between that of a pea and 
afilbert. Their structure is still firm, and several may 
be seen either coalescing or united into one mass. 

The third stage is at hand. ‘The groups of tubercles 
are united into homogenous masses, generally equal in 
size, or rather larger than a walnut. ‘The structure of 
each mass becomes gradually softer and moister, and if 
pressed between the fingers at this time, it feels ereasy 
like new cheese. | Continuing to soften, it gradually 
passes from the solid to the fluid state. The fluid first 
forms in the centre of tlhe mass, and its quantity steadily 
augments until the solid portions of the tubercles are 
completely broken down. In a short time, these fluid 
tubercles burst into the air tubes, and are expectorated in 

a violent fit of coughing, leaving hollow ulcers in the 
<Uhstd¥ite of the lungs, 

This-is the history of genuine consumption, on the 
tubercular disease of which more than a fourth of the in- 
habitants of Great Britain are said’ to perish. Com- 
mencing, as we have seen, in small hard grains, the 
tubercles gradually increase in size, and change their 
colour from grey to yellow. They then unite into irre- 
wular masses. The centres of these masses bécome 
soft, and afterwards fluid. ‘The fluidity eventually in- 
volves the whole mass, and this is the final transforma- 


tion which tubercles undergo before they burst into the 


1833.] 


air tubes and are expectorated. The constitution of the 
patient generally begins to suffer in the second stage. 
In the third stage the symptoms are still more severe. 


pious night-sweats, &c. A temporary relief may succeed 
to the expectoration of the first fluid tubercles; but new 
crops will continue to form and go through the same 
process, until the lungs of the patient are no longer 
capable of sustaining hfe, and his body is reduced to 
almost the figure of a skeleton. 

As we have not space at present, we shall, perhaps 
make some remarks hereafter on the medical treatment 
suitable to consumption. 


TASSO. 
On the llth of March, 1544, was born at Sorrento, 
near Naples, ‘lorquato ‘Tasso, the great author of the 
Gerusalemmme Liberata (Jerusalem Delivered). His 
father was Bernardo ‘lasso, also a scholar and a poet, in 
his own day of considerable repute. ‘The life of Tasso 
was almost from its commencement a troubled romance. 
Ilis infancy was distinguished by extraordinary pre- 
cocity ; but he was yet a mere child when political events 
induced his father to leave Naples, and, separating 
himself from his family, to take up his abode at Rome. 
flither ‘Torquato, when he was only in his eleventh year, 
was called upon to follow him, and to bid adieu both to 
what had been hitherto his home, and to the only 
parent whom it might almost be said he had ever known. 
Lhe feelings of the young poet expressed themselves 
upon this occasion in some lines of great tenderness and 
beauty, which have been thus translated :— 
Forth from a mother’s fostering breast 
Fate plucks me in my helpless years : 
_ With sighs I look back on her tears 
Bathing the lips her kisses prest ; 
Alas! her pure and ardent prayers 
The fugitive breeze now idly bears : 
No longer breathe we face to face, 
Gathered in knot-like close embrace ; 
Like young Ascanius or Camill’, my feet 
Unstable seek a wandering sire’s retreat.” 
He never again saw his mother; she died: about 
eighteen months after he had left her. The only near 
relation he now had remaining besides his father was a 
sister ; and from her also he was separated, those with 
whom she resided after her mother’s death at. Naples 
preventing her from going to share, as she wished to do, 
the exile of her father and brother. But after the two 
latter had been together for about two years at Rome, 
circumstances occurred which again divided them. Ber- 
nardo found it necessary to consult his safety by retiring 
from that city, on which he proceeded himself to Urbino, 
and sent his son to Bergamo, in the north of Italy. The 
favourable reception, however, which the former found at 
the court of the Duke of Urbino, induced him in a few 
months to send for 'Torquato ; and when he arrived, the 
graces and accomplishments of the boy so pleased the 
Duke, that he appointed hir the companion of his own 
son in his studies. ‘They emained at the court of 
Urbino for two years, when, in 1559, the changing fortunes 
of Bernardo drew them from thence to Venice. ‘This 
unsettled life, however, had never interrupted the youth- 
fil studies of ‘Tasso; and after they had resided for some 
time at Venice, his father sent him to the University of 
Padua, in the intention that he should prepare himself 
for the profession.of the law. But all views of this kind 
were soon abandoned by the young poet. Instead of 
perusing Justinian he spent his time in writing verses ; 
and the result was the publication of his poem of 
Rinaldo before he had completed his eighteenth year. 
We cannot here trace ninutely the remaining progress of 
his shifting and agitated history. His literary industry 
in the midst of almost ceaseless distractions of all kinds 
was most ‘extraordinary, His great poem, the Jeru- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


95 


salem Delivered, is said to have been beoun in his 
nineteenth year, when he was at Bologna. In 1565 he 


| first visited the court of Ferrara, having been earned 
Harassing cough has then set in, and fever, with co- 


thither by the Cardinal Luigi d’Este, the brother of the 
reigning duke Alphonso. ‘This event gave a colour to 
the whole of Tasso’s future existence. It has been sup- 
posed that the young poet allowed himself to form an 
attachment to the princess Leonora, one of the two 
sisters Of the Duke, and that the object of his aspiring 
love was Not insensible to that union of eminent personal 
graces with the fascinations of genins which courted her 
regard. But there hangs a mystery over the story 
which has never been completely cleared away. What 
is certain is, that, with the exception of a visit which he 
paid to Paris in 1571, in the train of the Cardinal 
Luigi, ‘Tasso continued to reside at Ferrara, till the com- 
pletion and publication of his celebrated epic in 1575. 
He had already given to the world his beautiful pastoral 
drama the Aminta, the next best known and most 
esteemed of his productions. 

Krom this period his life becomes a long course of 
storm and darkness, rarely relieved even by a fitful gleam 
of light. For several years the great poet, whose fame 
was already spread over Europe, seems to have wan- 
dered from city to city in his native country, in a state 
almost of beggary, impelled bya restlessness of spirit 
which no change of scene would relieve. But Ferrara 
was still the central spot around which his affections 
hovered, and to which, apparently in spite of himself, 
he constantly after a brief interval returned. In this 
state of mind niuch of his conduct was probably extrava- 
gant enough; but itis hardly to be believed that he really 
gave any cause for the harsh, and, if unmerited, most 
atrocious measure to which his former patron and friend, 
the Duke Alphonso, resorted in 1579, of consigning him 
as a lunatic to the Hospital of St. Anne. In this recep- 
tacle of wretchedness the poet was confined for above 
seven years. ‘The princess Leonora, who has been sup- 
posed to have been the innocent cause of his detention, 
died in 1581; but neither this event, nor the solicitations 
of several of his most powerful friends and adinirers, 
could prevail upon Alphonso to grant Tasso his liberty. 
Meanwhile the alleged lunatic occupied, and no doubt 
lightened, many of his hours by the exercise of his pen. 
His compositions were numerous, both in prose and 
verse, and many of them found their way to the press. 
At last, in July, 1586, on the earnest application of 
Don Vineenzo Gonzaga, son of the Duke of Mantua, he 
was released from his long imprisonment. He spent the 
close of that year at Mantua; but he then resumed his 
wandering habits, and, although he never again visited 
Ferrara, his old disposition to flit about from place to 
place seems to have clung to him like adisease. In this 
singular mode of existence he met with the strangest 
vicissitudes of fortune. One day he would be the most 
conspicuous object at a splendid court, crowned with 
lavish honours by the prince, and basking in the admi- 
ration of all beholders; another, he would be travelling 
alone on the highway, with weary steps and empty purse, 
and reduced to the necessity of borrowing, or rather 
beeging, by the humblest sunt, the means of sustaining 
existence. Such was his life for six or seven years.. At 
last, in November, 1594, he made his appearance at 
Rome. It was resolved that the greatest living poet of 
Italy should be crowned with the laurel in the imperial 
city, as Petrarch had been more than two hundred and 
fifty years before. The decree to that eifect was passed 
by the Pope and the Senate; but ere the day of triumph 
came, Tasso was seized with an illness, which he in- 
stantly felt would be mortal. At his own request, he 
was conveyed to the neighbouring monastery of St. Ono- 
frio, the same retreat in which, twenty years before, his 
father had breathed his last; and here, surrounded by the — 
consolations of that faith, which had been through life. 
his constant support, he patiently awaited what he firml: 


96 


believed would be thé issue of his malady. He expired 
in the arms of Cardinal Cinthio Aldobrandini, on the 
25th of April, 1595, having just entered upon his fifty- 
second year. The Cardinal had brought him the Pope's 
benediction, ‘on receiving which he exclaimed, “ This is 
the crown with which I hope to be crowned, not as a 
poet in the Capitol, but with the glory of the blessed in 
heaven.” 

Critics have differed widely in their estimate of the 
poetical genius of Tasso, some ranking the Jerusalem 
Delivered with the grandest productions of ancient or 
modern times, and others nearly denying it all claim 
to merit in that species of composition of which it pro- 
fesses to be an example. Nothing certainly but the 
most morbid prejudice could have dictated Boileau’s 
peevish allusion to “ the tinsel of Tasso,” as contrasted 
with “the geld of Virgil;” but although the poem is 
one of surpassing grace and majesty, the beauty and 
loftiness both of sentiment and of language by which 
it is marked are perhaps in a somewhat artificial style, 
and want the life and spell of power which belong to the 
creations of the mightier masters of epic song,— Homer, 
Dante, and Milton. His genius was unquestionably far 
less original and self-sustained. than that of any one of 
these. It is not, however, the triumph of mere art with 
which he captivates aud imposes upon us, but some- 
thing far beyond that, it is rather what Wordsworth, in 
speaking of another subject, has called ‘ the pomp of 
cultivated nature.” | 


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[Po-trait of Tasso. ] 





National Education, Saxe-Weimar.—By a statute of the 
Grand ‘Duchy .every head: ofa family is compelled either to 
send his children to school, or else to prove that they receive 


adequate instruction under his own roof. Heavy penalties” 


are attached to any breach of this statute, which is as old as 
the very infancy of Protestantism. In fact, it was designed 
as one of its safeguards; and even at the present day, it may 
be defended on the score of sound policy; for what means 
can be pointed out which are more. admirably adapted to 
promote social order and individual liappiness than universal 
education, in harmony with rational Christianity? The 
immediate effect of the statute in question is to establish a 
schoolmaster in every village and hamlet throughout the 
country. There is not so much as a secluded corner, with 
a dozen houses in %, without its schoolmaster, None, 


THE PENNY: MAGAZINE. 


[Mancn 9,-1833. 


therefore, can urge the want of opportunity in excuse ofa 
breach of the law; and unless tlie parent can adduce the 
proof, which exempts him, he is bound to send his children 
to school after they have attained to their sixth year. Nay 
more, in order that the enactment may not be evaded, the 
commissioner of each district makes a regular periodical 
report, to the. municipal authorities, of the children in his 
district who have reached, what may be termed, ’~ their 
“scholastic majority.’ Even in the smallest villages, every 
child pays twelve groschen (about 1s. 6a.) a-year to thie 
master of the school. Though the amountis inconsiderable, 
it partakes of the nature of a tax on every head of a family, 
and it is obhgatory upon him to pay it, unless lus circumstances 
are extremely limited; in this case the district 1s bound to 
advance it. The master of the school makes outa list of 
the children in arrear of their fees every quarter, and trans- 
mits it to the Grand-ducal Government, by whom the amount 
is immediately advanced. The minimum of allowance to 
the master of a country school is 100 dollars (15¢.) a-year, 
independently of lodgingand firmg; and that, to the master 
of a town school, is from 125 to 150 (192. to 23/.), accord- 
ing to the size of the town. So soon as this mnzmum 
is exceeded, the instruction becomes gratuitous, and the 
district is no longer bound to pay up the quota for indigent 
children.. There are, however, certain districts which are too 
poor to make any advances of that nature, and, in their case, 
recourse is had to the district church, which is in general 
possessed .of monies, arising from ancient Catholic endow- 
ments, and is, therefore, expected to assist the district, 
where the education of its inhabitants requires such aid. 
Again, where this resource does not exist, there is a public 
fund, called “‘ Landschulen Fond” (fund for country schools), 
which assists the church, district, or families of the district, 
in completing the minimum of the master’s allowance. 


| This fund arises from voluntary donations, legacies, and the 


produce of ‘certain dues which the State assigns to it; such 
as for dispensations in matters of divorce, or marriage between 
relatives, &c. This is the only portion of the expense which 
the State itself is called upon to contribute, and it is of very 
inconsiderable amount ; though there are as many schools as 
villages in the Grand Duchy, and every master has a com- 
petent remuneration, as well as a claim to: one-half of his 
allowances in the season of old age or infirmity. Besides 
this, there is a fund for the assistance of his widow and chil- 
dren, which has. been raised out of his own statutory contri- 
butions of 2s. 3d. per quarter and those of. his colleagues ; 
to which are added 350 dollars a-year from the State and 
Landschulen Fond; and certain dues laid aside for it by 
the Superior Consistory. All the national schools are under 
tlie superintendence of the local clergy, and the whole system 
is subject to the immediate control and direction of thé 
+ i Consistory.— Quarterly Journal of Education, 
0. LX. : a 





NOTICE. 


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statement may remove such a misconeeption:— °°. * 

Cost of Wrappers and Stitching, for 80,000 Parts, Penny Magazine. 
: 17 toms. 
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| — | 190 0 0 

Deduct Profit upon Advertisements, each Part 30 0 0 

2 | ; - 160 0 0 

Multiply by twelve Parts . . . 12 





7 A ci =Per Annum i 3) wl £1920 0 0 
RECEIPT. : 4 i" = 
The price paid by 80,000 Subscribers is 8d. per }. 


annum for the wrappers . 


' The price received by the Publisher, deducting 1666 13 4 
about 40, per cent.-from the nominal price, 
allowed to Retailers, is 5d... 6 » © « 
Loss upon the annual charge of 8d. \ £253 6 8 
forthe wrappers. . 2. +» © J ° * | 








*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, fincolam Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 


Printed by WILLIAM Crowes, Stamford Street, 





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almost singular among such buildings in this country, 
namely, the open space which it has to a considerable 
distance around it, enabling the spectator to obtain from 
the immediate neighbourhood nearly a perfect view of 
it on every side. It stands on a spot which is elevated 
above the rest of the city, and surrounded by a wall 
which in former times was fortified, in imitation of the 
manner-in which-convents and other ecclesiastical pos- 
sessions used often, in France and other foreign conn- 
tries, to be secluded and converted into a sort of forts, 
or strong-holds. This portion of the city of Lichfield 
is still known by the name of the Céose, just as in old 
Paris there were the Clos of the Augustines, the Clos 
of the Jacobins, &c. The Close contains a considerable 
number of houses besides the cathedral; but they nel- 
ther crowd upon the sacred edifice, as they do in most 
other cities, nor are they of so mean a description as to 
present a disagreeable or unsuitable contrast in its vici- 
nity. Some old trees ornament the northern side of the 
lawn, In the midst of which the cathedral stands, which, 
together with a sheet of water on the opposite side, give 
something of a rural ai to the place. 

The cathedral does not stand due east and west, as is 
usual with saered buildings, but varies from the right line 
by an angle of about twenty- -seven degrees, or not much 
less than the third part of a whole quarter of the com- 
pass. {tis built in the customary form of a cross, tne 
principal bar containing the nave of the chureh, the 
choir, and what is called the Lady Chapel. The ex- 
treme leneth is 403 feet; the shorter bar, or the tran- 
sept, is 177 feet long. ‘The width of the nave inside is 
about 66 feet. The principal froat is the west. It is 
surmounted by two pyramidal spires; and a third, of 
the same form, rises from the centre of the -building. 
The former are each 192 feet ligh; the latter rises to 
the heieht of 252 feet. 

[ftradition may be trusted, the spet on which Lichfield 
stands has a claim to be rewarded as one of the most 
sacred in our island. Here it is said a thousand Chris- 
tial inartyrs were put to death at one Ume, in the per- 


secution which raved in the be@inming of the ‘fourth 
century, unde Dioclesian and Wtennitus. A field in 


the neiehbourhood, which still bears the name of Clins- 
tian Field, is pointed out as the scene of this slaughter ; 
and etymo! logists have found a memorial of the sine 
event in the name of the town itself. Lichfield, they 
contend, signifies, in Saxon, the IMeld of the Dead. 
Dr. Johnson, himselfia native of Lichfield, has taken 
care to record this derivation in his Dictionary, with the 
cireumstance by which it is supposed to be conntenanced. 
But other writers have given other interpretations of the 
term. In the Saxon times Staffordshire was a part of tre 
extensive and powerful kingdom of Mercia, which, ac- 
cording to Bede, was Christ tianized about the middle of 
the seventh century, upon its conquest by Oswy, king of 
Northumberland. Lichfield is said to have been erected 
into a bishopric in 656; the person first appointed to pre- 
side over the see being named Diuma. His immediate 
iwecessors were Cellach, Tr umhere, Jaruman, and Ceadda, 
cominonly called St. Chad, who was consecrated in 669, 
and held the bishoprie for two years. He obtained 
creat renown on acconnt of his piely, and for many ages 
after his death a miraculous atmosphere was believed to 
surround even the tomb that held his remains. ‘The 
first cathedral is supposed to have been beeun by his 
predecessor, Jaruman; but it was not completed till the 
year 700, in the time of Bishop Hedda. About the 
end of the eighth century the influence of King Offa 
obtained from the Pope the erection of Lichfield into an 
archbishopric; but it did not retain this dignity for 
more than two or three years. ‘The diocese was origi 
nally one of great extent, comprehending nearly the half 
of Enelaiad ; but several other bishoprics have been 
formed out of it in later times. The diocesan used to 
style himself sometimes Bishop of Lichfield, sometimes 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 16, 


of Coventry, having a cathedral, a palace, and a chapter 
im each city, till at last the common form came to be 
Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield. Bishop Huaeket, 
who was appointed to the see immediately after the 
Restoration, changed the order of the two names; and 
the designation of the diocese ever since has been the 
Bishopric of Lichfield and Coventry. 

The founder of the present cathedral is usually stated 
to have been Roger de Clinton, who came to the see in 
1128. But the style of architecture indicates that very 
little of what now remains contd have beeneiected by him. 
Mr. Britton is of opinion that it ust have been mostly 
built in the course of the thirteenth and fourteenth cen- 
turies. Tuller tells us, in his Church History, that it was 
completed in the time of Bishop Heyworth, who came to 
the see in 1420. No documents, or hardly any, referring 
to its erection exist: all its records were destroyed either 
at the timeofthe Reformation, or during the civil wars in 
the seventeenth century. On the former occasion it was 
despoiled of all its ornaments which could be easily con- 
verted into another use; its richly decorated shrines and 
gold and silver vessels being all confiscated to the crown. 
At the commencement of the civil war the Close of Lich- 
held was fortified by the royalists, and the cemmand 
intrusted to the Earl of Chesterfield. In March, 1643, 
the garrison here was attacked by Robert Greville, Lord 
Brooke, a zealous puritan, who is said to have endeavonred 
to invoke the aid of Heaven by a vow, that Wf he should 
succeed in his attempt he would level the cathedral with 
the ground. . But on the 2d of the month, which hap- 
pened to be St. Chad’s day, and therefore, we may well 
believe, made the cirenimstance seem to many a very 
remarkable judgment, his lordship was shot dead as he 
walked along the street below, by a gentleman stationed 
on the oreat tower of the church. “Vhe earrison, how- 
ever, were obhged to surrender on the third day after, 
when the parliamentary soldiers entered and took pos- 
session of the place. These followers of Lord Brooke 
did not qnite throw down the eathedral, but they in- 
flicted upon it both deseeration and injury to no small 
extent. ‘They exercised their barbarism, says Duecdlale, 
(‘ Short View of the Late ‘Proubles,’) “ in demolishing 
all the monuments, pulling down the curious carved work, 
battering in pieces the costly windows, and destroying 
the evidences and records belonging to that church ; 
which being done, they stabled their horses in the body 
of it; kept. courts of guard m the cross aisles ; broke 
up the pavement; * * * and every day hunted a 

eat with hounds throughont the church, delighting 
themselves in the echo from the goodly vaulted roof.” 
Lhe parliamentary forces kept possession of the Close 
till the 21st of April, when they were again driven out 
by the royalists. It remained in the hands cf the latter 
till Jnly, 1646; when it was onee more attacked, and 
compelled to admit a new garrison, after a brief re- 
sistance. The cathedral suffered ereatly from these suc- 
cessive sieges. It was reckoned that no féwer than two 
thousand cannom-shot and one thousaid five hundred 
hand wrenades had been discharged against it; and the 
effect was that the three spires were nearly entirely 
battered down, and hardly any thing left standing except 
the walls. Even they were every where defaced and 
mutilated: 

The restorer of the building was the excellent Bishop 
Hacket, already mentioned as having been appointed to 
the see after the return of Chaves If. In the course of 
eight years, by unsparing exertion and liberality, he had 
succeeded, as far as it ‘was possible, im repairing the sad 
devastations of the preceding quarter ofa century. The 
structure has since, however, undergone considerable 
alterations at various times; and in particular about the 
close of the last century it received a complete renovation 
under the direction of the late Mr, Wyatt. 

Lhe finest parts of Lichfield Cathedral are the west 
front, whichis very rich and spl adid, and the Lady 


1833.] 


Chapel, the painted glass in the windows of which, brought 
from the chapel of the nunnery of Herckenrode, in 
Liege, may probably vie with any thing of the kind in 
this country. The chureh contains a considerable num- 
ber of tombs, but few of them interesting from their 
antiquity. Among those of modern date are one to the 
memory of Dr. Johnson, aud another to that of Lady 
Mary Wortley Montague, who was also a native of 
Lichfield. ‘There is also one in commemoration of the 
two female children of the Rev. W. Robinson, which is 
one of Chantrey’s very finest works. For further in- 
formation on the subject of the cathedral, the reader may 
consult Mr. Britton’s History of its Architecture and 
Antiquities, Jackson’s History of Lichfield, and Shaw’s 
History of Staffordshire. 


THEORY AND PRACTICE. 


{From the American Quarterly Review. | 


Tue science of political economy, like other sciences, 
is a collection of general truths and principles, deduced 
from an extensive alld accurate observation and collation 
of facts—not the limited experience of a single indi- 
vidual—but the extended experience of nations; not 
the facts of a single district or of one age, imperfectly 
observed and falsley reasoned from by an unforined 
mind—but facts from all countries and many centuries, 
diligently and minutely analyzed and compared, and the 
principles and trnths deduced by many able men, whose 
minds, stored with various knowledge, accustomed to 
investigation, aud trained to the art of reasoning, were 
devoted intensely, for years, to the subject. But there 
seems at the present day, even among persons sufh- 
ciently enlightened upon other matters, a great rage 
for what is called “ practical knowledge’—a term dif- 
ficult to define, but which, from the way in which it 
is generally used, appears to be synonymous with in- 
tuitive knowledge. = 

The professors of this species of knowledge term 
themselves “ practical men,’ and seem to be of opinion 
that there is not any thing in heaven or earth not 
circumscribed within the limits of their philosophy. 
What they see, they believe—the facts of their own 
experience, the events which are passing around them, 
are the data upon which they build ¢hezr theories ; and 
their imperfect and confused deductions, from scanty 
aud inaccurately observed facts, are by the vanity of 
inorance preferred to the discoveries of science, and the 
conclusions of reason. ‘* Practical knowledge’”’ is, by 
these philosophers, opposed to theoretical knowledee. 
Theoretical appears, im their vocabulary, to. mean any 
thing that is written in a regular methodical mauner— 
and practical knowledge, the information gained, and 
the conclusions drawn from individual observation, and 
from reading newspapers and speeches in Congress. 

It onglit to be more generally known, that theory is 
nothing more than the conclusions of reason from 
numerous and accurately observed phenomena, and the 
deduction of the laws which connect causes with 
effects ;—that practice is the application of these general 
truths and principles to the common affairs and purposes 
of lite; and that science is the recorded experience and 
discoveries of mankind, or, as it has been well defined, 
“the knowledge of many, orderly and methodically 
digested and arranged, so as to become attainable by 
one. 

kevery man who observes a. phenomenon, and attempts 
to account for it, or draws a conclusion from its oeccur- 
rence, is guilty of theorizing. ‘The “practical man,” 
however, goes no further than the fact before hitm—he 
mives a reasou for its occurrence, if he can, which not 
being capable of further application, and not com- 
prehending any other facts, even if it be correct, is 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


99 


comparatively useless. ‘The scientific man, not content 
with observing one fact, collects many, and by disco- 
vering their points of resemblance, and tracing the 
chain of causes and ceffeets, arrives at a eeneral prin- 
ciple or law, capable of extensive application and varied 
usefulness, 

A “ practical man” sees the lid forced of from a vessel 
of water, when the water is heated; if le attempts to 
give a reason, he says, that it was because the steam 
could not escape, and he resolves the next time to leave 
ita vent. ‘the pinlesopher, from this phenomenon, is 
led to the examination of others, and through a train of 
investigation aud discovery which terminates in the 
sleain-engine. 

‘The “ practical man” goes to market in the morning, 
and always finds as many commoilities as he wishes to 
purchase. Jf he thinks about so ordimary an occur- 
rence, he supposes, very justly, that the owners of the 
coiminodities come to market because they expect io 
meet purchasers, and that they scll their goods, because 
they prefer having his money. <A scientific man, from 
this phenomenon and from a careful analysis of it and 
analogous facts, discovers the trne principles which re- 
ulate demand and supply, with all their important 
results. 

A “practical man” is told by his neighbour that he 
intends to withdraw from the business in which he is 
engaged, and invest his capital in another, where he has 
ovod reason to expect more profit. Ele comniends the 
prudence of his friend, aud perhaps looks closer to his 
own affairs. The scientific man, upon being told the 
like thing, meditates a little more deeply, and reasoning 
from particulars to generals, arrives at length at the 
conclusion that the industry of a country will be most 
productive wien least-interfered with. 

The “ practical man,” if -he happens to live near a 
manufactory, upon the introduction of an improvement 
in machinery, whereby the work formerly performed by 
six men can now be done by two, sees a number of poor 
labourers -thrown out of employment, and a number of 
families reduced to want. He is:mduced: to- suppose 
that labour-saving machinery is an evil, and productive 
of poverty and wretchedness—and if he is a passionate 
man as well as a practical one, he thinks the workmen 
would serve their employers mght by destroyimg the 
machines. ‘The. scientific political economist, on the 
contrary, from the examination and comparison of many 
facts, and fiom a train of comprehensive and accurate 
reasoning, is convinced, that notwithstanding the partial 
and transient evil caused by their introduction, every 
improvement in machinery by which the cost of pro- 
duction is diminished, is a permanent advantage to all 
classes of society. 





Stage-Coaches.—The public have ‘now been so long famt- 
liarized with stage-coach accommodation, that they are led 
to think of it as having always existed. It is however, even 
in England, of comparatively recent date. The late Mr. An- 
drew Thomson, sen., told ine; that he and the late Mr. John 
Glassford. went to London (from Glasgow) in the year 1739, 
and made the journey on horseback. Then there was no 
turnpike-road till they came to Grantham, within one hun- 
dred and ten miles from London. Up to that point they 
travelled on a narrow causeway, with an unmade soft road 
upon each side of it. They met from time to time strings 
of pack-horses, from thirty to forty in a gang, the mode by 
which goods seemed to be transported from one part of the 
country to another. The leading horse of the gang carried 
a bell to give warning to travellers coming in an opposite 
direction ; and he said, when they mei these trains of horses, 
with their packs across their backs, the causeway not afford- 
ing room, they were obliged to make way for them, and 
plunge inte the side road, out of which they sometimes 
found it difficult to get back agam upon the causeway. 

[An extract from Mr. D. Bannatyne’s Scrap-Book, as given in 
Dr, Cleland’s Ctatistical Account of Glasgow. | 
; a 


100 





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THE POLAR BEAR. 


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[Polar Bears and Seal. ] 


In those desolate fields of ice which lock up the polar 
seas during a great part of the year, the White Bear 
(the Ursus Maritimus of Linnzus) finds an abode con- 
genial to his hardy nature. Prowling over the frozen 
wastes, he satiates his hunger on the marine animals, 
such as seals, who break through the ice to breathe the 
open air; or he plunges into the sea in pursuit of his 


prey. Possessing an astonishingly acute scent, great. 


activity and strength, and equal cunning, he contrives to 
support existence in regions where it might be thought 
that so large a quadruped must necessarily perish. Ever 
watchful, he ascends the hills of ice, called hummocks, 
to extend his range of observation over the wide plain 
where a solitary seal may perhaps be resting ; or to snuff 


the tainted air, by which he knows that some remains ofa 


whale, or a walrus (sea-horse), deserted by the fishermen 
of Europe or the native Eskimaux, will afford him an 
ample feast. He doubtless often suffers long and extreme 
hunger; for the seal, which forms his chief subsistence, 


is as vigilant as the bear; and he is often carried out to 


sea upon some small island of ice, where he may remain 
for days without the possibility of procuring food. The 
Polar Bear has been seen floating in this way at a 
distance of two hundred miles from any land. Swimming 
excellently, he, however, often travels from one island of 
ice to another; or visits the shore, where he commits 
fearful ravages. In Iceland, where these destructive 
aniinals sometimes land, the inhabitants immediately 
collect together to destroy them. Near the east coast of 
Greenland, according to Captain Scoresby, in his account 
of the Arctic Regions, they have been seen on the ice in 
such quantities, that they were compared to flocks of 
sheep on a common. 


In the Zoological Gardens there is a polar bear, from 


which the representation of one in the prececane wood- 
cut was taken. In the British Museum there is a stuffed 
specimen of considerably larger dimensious. ‘The animal 
is ordinarily from 4 to 5 feet high, and from 7 to 8 feet 
long, weighing from 600 Ibs. to halfa ton. Barentz, an 
early voyager in these regions, kilied two enormous 
white bears in 1596, the skin of one of which measured 
12 feet, and that of the other 13 feet. The cubs of this: 
powerful animal are, however, not larger than rabbits. 
Hearne, a traveller of great authority, states that he has: 
seen their foot-prints on the snow not larger than a crown- 
piece, when the impression of their dam’s foot measured: 
14 inches by 9. 

The polar bear generally retreats from man; but: 
when attacked he is a formidable enemy. Captain: 
Scoresby, in his Voyage to Greenland. gives several in- 
teresting anecdotes, which strikingly exhibit the power: 
and courage of the animal. Our readers will be grati ~ 
fied by these extracts :— 


“ A few years ago, when one of the Davis's Strait whalers: 
was closely beset among the ice at the ‘ south-west,’ or on: 
the coast of Labrador, a bear that had been for some time: 
seen near the ship, at length became so bold as to approach. 
alongside, probably tempted by the offal of the provision. 
thrown overboard by the cook. At this time the people were 
all at dinner, no one being required to keep the deck in the: 
then immoveable condition of the ship. A hardy fellow who 
first looked out, perceiving the bear so near, unprudently 
jumped upon the ice, armed only with a handspike, with a. 
view, it is supposed, of gaining all the honour of the exploit. 
of securing so fierce a visitor by himself. But the bear, 
regardless of such weapons, and sharpened probably by 
hunger, disarmed his antagonist, and seizing him by the: 
back with his powerful jaws, carried him off with such ce- 
lerity, that on his dismayed comrades msing from their meak 


1833,] 


and looking abroad, he was so far beyond their reach as to 
defy their pursuit.” 

“ A circumstance communicated: to me by Capt.. Munroe 
of the Neptune, of rather a humorous nature as to the result, 
arose out of an equally imprudent:attack made on a bear, 
in the Greenland fishery. of 1820, by a seaman employed in 
one of the Hull whalers. The ship was moored to a piece 
of ice, on which, at a considerable distance, a large béar was 
observed prowling about for prey. One of the ship's cam- 
pany, emboldened by an artificial courage, denved from the 
free use of rum, which in his economy he had stored for 
special occasions, undertook to pursue and attack the bear 
that was within view. Armed only with a whale-lance, he 
resolutely, and against all persuasion, set out on his adven- 
turous exploit. A fatiguing joumey of about halfa league, 
over a yielding surface of snow and rugged hummocks, 
brought him within a few yards of the enemy, which, to his 
surprise, undauntedly faced him, and seemed to invite him to 
the combat. His courage being by this time greatly subdued, 
partly by evaporation of the stimulus, and partly by the 
undismayed and even threatening aspect of the bear, he 
levelled his lance, in an attitude suited cither for offensive 
or defensive action, and stopped. The bear also stood still; 
m vain the adventurer tried to rally courage to make the 
attack ; his enemy was too formidable, and his appearance 
too imposing. In vain also he shouted, advanced his lance, 
and made feints of attack ; the enemy, either not understand- 
ing or despising such unmanliness, obstinately stood his 
ground. Already the limbs of the sailor began to quiver ; 
but the fear of ridicule from his messmates had its in- 
fluence, and he yet scarcely dared to retreat. Bruin, how- 
ever, possessing less reflection, or being regardless of conse- 
quences, began, with audacious boldness, to advance. His 
nigh approach and mshaken step subdued the spark of 
bravery and that dread of ridicule that had hitherto upheld 


our adventurer; he turned and fled. But now was the time of: 


danger; the sailor's flight encouraged the bear in turn to 
pursue, and being better practised in snow-travelling, and 
better provided for it, he rapidly gained upon the fugitive. The 
whale-lance, his only defence, encumbening him in his retreat, 
he threw it down, and kept on. This fortunately excited the 
bear's attention; he stopped, pawed it, bit it, and then re- 
newed the chase. Again he was at the heels of the panting 
seaman, wlio, conscious of the favourable effects of the lance, 
dropped one of his mittens; the stratagem succeeded, and 
while Bruin again stopped to examine it, the fugitive, im- 
proving the interval, made considerable progress a-head. 
Still the bear resumed the pursuit with a most provoking 
perseverance, except when arrested by another mitten, and 
finally, by a hat, which he tore to shreds between his 
fore-teeth and paws, and would, no doubt, soon have 
made the incautious adventurer his victim, who was now 
rapidly losing strength, but for the prompt and_ well- 
timed assistance of his shipmates—who, observing that 
the affair had assumed a dangerous aspect, sallied out 
to his rescue. The little phalanx opened him a passage, 
and then closed to receive the bold assailant. Though 
now beyond the reach of his adversary, the dismayed fugi- 
tive continued onwards, impelled by his fears, and never 
relaxed his exertions until he fairly reached the shelter 
of his ship. The bear once more came to a stand, and 
for a moment seemed to survey his enemies with all the 
consideration of an experienced general; when, finding. 
them too numerous for a hope of success, he very wisely 
wheeled about, and succeeded in making a safe and honour- 
able retreat.” 


The sagacity of the polar bear is well known to the 
whale fishers. ‘They find the greatest difficulty in en- 
trapping him, although he fearlessly approaches their 
vessels. ‘he following instances of this sagacity are 
yery curious :— 

“ A seal lying on the middle of a large piece of ice, with 
a hole just before it, was marked out by a bear for its prey, 
und secured by the artifice of diving under the ice, and 
Inaking its way to the hole by which the seal was prepared 
to retreat. The seal, however, observed its approach, and 
plunged into the water; but the bear instantly sprung upon 
it, and appeared, in about a minute afterwards, with the seal 
in ifs mouth. 

“ The captain of one of the whalers being anxtous to pro- 
cure a bear, without wounding the skin, made trial of the 
stratagem of laying the noose of a rope in the snow, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


101 


placing a piece of kreng within it. A bear, ranging the 


neighbouring ice, was soon enticed to the spot, by the smell 
of burning meat. .-He perceived:the bait,» approached, ‘and 
seized: it in his mouth; :but his foot; at the same. momen¢ 
by. a jerk of the rope, being.-entangled in the noose, lie 
pushed, it off. with the adjoining paw, and deliberately 
retired. After having eaten the piece he carried away with 
him, he returned. The noose, with another piece of krene, 
being then replaced, he pushed the rope aside, and again 
walked triumphantly off with the kreng.’ A third time the 
noose was laid; but, excited to caution by the evident obser 
vation of the bear, the satlors buried the rope beneath the 
snow, and laid the bait in a deep hole dug in the centre: 
The bear once more approached, and the sailors were assured 
of their success. But Bruin, more sagacious than -they 
expected, after snuffing about the place for a few moments, 
scraped the snow away with his paw, threw the rope aside, 
and again escaped unhurt with his prize.’ ) 


The female polar bear is as fierce in her hostility as 
the male; but nothing can exceed the affection: which . 
she feels for her young. The difficulty of -procuring 
food for them, and the hardships to which they are ex- 
posed, no doubt call forth this quality. Some of the 
instances upon record are as singular as they are affect- 
ing. The following is related in one of the Polar 
Voyages :-~ | — | 

“ EKarly.im the mormng, the: man ‘at the -mast-head 
gave notice that three bears were making them way very 
fast over the ice, and directing their course towards the ship. 
They had probably been invited by the blubber of a sea 
horse, which the men had set on fire, and which was burning 


‘| on the ice at the time of their approach. - They proved to be’ 


a she-bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as 
large as the dam. They ran eagerly to the fire, and drew 
out from the flames part of the flesh of. the sea-horse, which 
remained! unconsumed, and ate it voraciously. -The crew 
from the ship threw great pieces of the flesh, which they 
had still left, upon the ice, which the old bear carried away. 
singly, laid every piece before her cubs, and dividing them, 
gave each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself: 
As she was carrying away the last piece, they levelled their 
muskets at the cubs, and shot them both dead; and in her 
retreat, they wounded the dam, but not mortally. 

“It would have drawn tears of pity from any but unfeeling 
minds, to have marked the affectionate concern manifested 
by this poor beast, in the last moments of her expiring young 
Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl 
to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh 
she had fetched away, as she had done the others before, 
tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them ; and when 
she saw they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, 
and then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise them up. 
All this while it was piteous to hear her moan. When she 


found she could not stir them, she went off, and when at 


some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing 
to entice them away, she returned, and smelling around 
them, began to lick their wounds. She went off a second 
time, as before, and having crawled a few paces, looked 
again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But 
still her cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them 
again, and with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round 
first one and then the other, pawing them, and moaning. 
Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised 
her head towards the ship, and growled her resentment af 
the murderers, which they returned with a volley of musket 
balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their 


wounds,” 


3 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—SEcTI0N 5. 


Tur subjects which it is the province of the geologist to 
investigate, are by no means confined to questions con- 
cerning mineral substances, but embrace a wider field, 
involving many considerations intimately connected with 
the history of several tribes of animals and plants. As 
it is not possible to give even a brief outline of the doc- 
trines of geology without referring to the great orders 
and classes into which naturalists have divided the ani- 
mal kingdom, before proceeding, as we proposed in the 
last section, to describe the divisions of the stratified 


102 


rocks which geologists have established, and which are 
founded mainly upon the distinctive characters afforded 
by the remains of organized bodies contained in the dif- 
ferent strata, it will be necessary to say a few words upon 
the classification of animals, in order to render the terms 
we niust employ more intelligible to those of our readers 
who are unacquainted with the subject. 

Animals are divided into four great branches, distin- 
onished by the terms Vertebrated, Molluscous, Artici- 
lated, and Ratiated. ‘The First pivision includes all 
those animals which are provided with a backbone; and 
because the smaller bones or joints of which it 1s com- 
posed are called by anatomists vertebre (from a Latin 
word signifying to turn) the individuals that belong to 
this division are called Vertebrated Animals. It is subdi- 
vided into four classes; 1. Mammalia, comprehending 
man, land quadrupeds, and the whale tribe; that is, all 


airimals which give suck to their young; the term being. 


derived from mamma, the Latin name of that part of 
the body from which the milk is drawn. 2. Birds, of 
all kinds. 3. All those animals called Reptiles by natu- 
ralists: the word means nothing more than that they 
creep, aud is derived from the Latin verb “ to creep,” 
but it has in common language a far more extended sense 
than that to whieh it is restricted in natural history. 
Frogs, serpents, lizards, crocodiles, alligators, tortoises, 
and turtles, are reptiles, in the sense of the word as used 
by naturalists. 4. Fishes, of all kinds, except the whale 
tribe, which belongs to the class mammatia. 

‘The sEconD Division includes tribes of animals which 
have no bones, and because their bodies contain no hard 
parts, they are called Avolluscous Animals, from a Latin 
word signifying soft. But witha few exceptions they 
have all « hard covering or shell to which they are 
either attached, or in which they can enclose themselves, 
and be preserved from injuries to which, from their soft 
nature, they would otherwise be constantly éxposed. 
‘here are six classes in this division, founded on certain 
peculiarities of anatomical structure in the animal, but 
these we shall not notice; for, without a much longer 
description than we can eriter npon, it would be a useless 
entuneration of hard names. It will answer our preseit 
purpose much better to say, that the animals belonging 
to this division may be classified according to differences 
on the forms of their hard covering or shells, for it is the 
hard parts of animals which furnish the records of their 
former existence ; these only are preserved imbedded in 
ihe strata, all traces of the flesh or other soft parts, as 
far as form is concerned, having entirely disappeared. 
Motiuscous Animals, therefore, are divisible into, 1. 
Univalves, that is, animals armed with a shell or valve 
forming one continuous piece, such as snails and whelks. 
2. Bivalves, or those haying two shells united by a 
hinge, such as oysters, cockles, &c. 3. Multivalves, 
or those having more than two shells, of which the com- 
mon barnacle is an example. 

ihe Tu1rRpD Division is assigned to what are called 
Articulated Animals, these having a peculiar anatomical 
structure, called articulations, from a@rticudus, Latin for 
a little joint. It is subdivided into four classes; 1. 
Annelides, or those having a ringed stricture, from 
annulus, Latin for ring: leeches and earth-worms are 
examples. 2. Crustacea, or those which have their soft 
bodies and limbs protected by a hard coating or crust, 
which in common language we also call shell, such as 
lobsters, crabs, and prawns. 38. Spiders, which form a 
class by themselves. 4. Insects, such as flies, beetles, 
bees, and butterflies. 

Lhe FOURTH DIVISION coimprehends a great variety of 
annals which have an anatomical structure like an 
assemblage of rays diverging from a common point, and 
from which they are called Radiated Animals, radius 
being Latin for ray. It contains five classes, but as 


three of these are animals without hard parts, we may 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 16, 


pass them over; of the remaining two, the one contains 


the echini or sea urchins ; the other, the very immmerous 
tribe called zoophites, from two Greek words signifying 
animal and plant, because the animal is fixed to the 
ground and builds its strong habitation in the form of a 
shrub or branch or leafy plant. Corals and sponges 
belone to this class, and among all the different animal 
remains that are found in the strata, there is no class 
which bears any proportion in point either of frequency 
of occurrence or in quantity equal to this last. 

The great divisions of animals, so far as the remains 
of species found in the strata are concerned, or as it Is 
termed m a fossil state, are therefore briefly these : 

I. Vertebrated Animals; Classes—Mammalia, Birds, 
Reptiles, Fishes. 

If. Molluscous Animals; Classes—Univalve, Bivalve, 
Multivaive Shells. 

ITI. Articulated Animals; Classes —Crustacea, Insects. 

IV. Radiated Animals; Classes—Icchini, Zoophites. 

IZach class is farther divisible into several famaiies ; 
each family into several genera; each genus iuto several 
species, according as greater or minor points of resem- 
blance and difference bring individuals near to eachi other. 
There are certain other great distinctions which it is 
necessary to meution, viz. that some animals eat ammal 
food, the Carnivorous; others vegetable food, the 
Graminivorous ; some can live both in the air and in 
water, the Amphibiows. Among fishes, molluscs, and 
crustacez, some live in the sea, some in fresh water, some 
in both; and of those inhabiting fresh water some are 
peculiar to rivers, others to lakes. ‘there are also land- 
shells, such as the common garden-snail. It is scarcely 
necessary to remind our readers that certain species are 
peculiar to particular regions of the earth, being adapted 
by their nature to the different temperature and other 
peculiarities that exist in different countries. 

The number of distinguishable genera and species of 
fossil plants bears but a sinall proportion to that of fossil 
animal remains, and the notice we shall be called upon 
to take of them in the present brief outline of geology, is 
not such as to require us to enter into any previous 
explanation of the great divisions of the vegetable king- 
dom: this too we could not give so as to serve any useful 
purpose without entering into details that wouid lead us 
far beyond the limits to which we must restrict ourselves, 
We shall therefore now proceed to point out the great 
divisions into which the various stratified rocks have 
been separated, referring our readers to diagram No. 1, 
section 2. 

The lowest members in the order in which the stratified 
rocks are placed one above another, are distinguished by 
the great predonninance of hard slaty rocks having a crys- 
talline or compact texture, but chiefly by this circumstance, 
that they have not been found to contain any fragments 
of pre-existing rocks, or the remains of ormanized bodies. 
On this account they have been called the primary 
STRATA, as if formed prior to the exastence of animal life, 
ald as containing’ no evidence of other rocks having 
existed before them. ‘That we cannot now discoyer ani- 
inal remains in these strata is, however, 10 proof that 
they had not previously existed, because we meet with 
rocks containing orgauic remains which are so altered 
by the action of heat in those parts where they happen 
to have come in contact with a mass of granite or whin- 
stone, that all traces of the organic remains are oblite- 
rated, those parts of the rocks acquiring a crystalline chia- 
racter analogous to what prevails in the primary strata. 
‘These last may have contained the remains of aninials, 
but being nearest to the action of volcanic heat, they 
may have been so changed as to obliterate the shells and 
corals by their being melted as it were into the substance 
of the crystalline rock. ‘The abseuce of the fragments 
of pre-existing rocks is a less questionable wround of dis- 
tinction, J°rom whence the materials composing these 


1833.] 


primary strata were derived, is a question that it is not 
very likely any geological researclies will enable us to 
solye ; that they were in a state of minute division, were 
suspended in and gradually deposited from a fluid in an 
horizontal arrangement, and that they- were subsequently 
elevated, broken, and contorted by some powerful force, 
prior to the deposition of the strata that lie over them, is 
beyond all doubt. ‘There may also be beds of rock of 
ereat thickness, in which neither fragment nor organic 
remain has been found throughout a great extent of 
country, which nevertheless may not be primary, for if 
in any part of the same mass a single pebble or a single 
shell should afterwards be discovered, indubitably im- 
bedded in it, one such occurrence would be as conclusive 
as a thousand, that a prior state of things had existed. It 
follows, therefore, that until the whole of an extensive 
_ district of such rocks were carefully examined, we could 
never be sure that they might not one day be discovered 
to be of secondary origin ; there is nothing in the mineral 
structure Of any one stratified rock that entitles us abso- 
lutely to say that other rocks and living bodies could not 
have existed prior to its formation. But as there are 
large tracts of country occupied by strata, in which nei- 
ther fragments of pre-existing rocks nor organic remains 
have yet been discovered, geologists are justified in desig- 
nating them the primary strata; to call them primitive, 
as they used to be, and indeed still are by some ceolo- 
oists, is to employ a term which expresses much more 
than we are entitled to assert. 

The unstratified rock most usually associated with the 
primary strata is granite, of different varietics of compo- 
sition, usually lying under them in great masses, and 
bursting through, forming lofty pinnacles, as in the Alps, 
aud sometimes sending forth shoots or veins, which pene- 
trate the superincumbent strata in all directions. 

Immediately above the primary strata there com- 
mences auother series, very like many of the rocks below 
them, in respect of mineral composition, but containing 
the remains of shells, and some pebbles, and interstratified 
with thick beds of iimestone, including shells and corals. 
hese rocks are penetrated also by granite, and, in com- 
mon with the primary strata, form the great deposit of 
the metallic ores. ‘They are, for want of a better term 
by which the class can be distingnished, usually called 
the transition strata, a name given by the elder geolo- 
ists, because they were supposed to form a step or tran- 
sition from the primitive state of the globe to that con- 
dition when it bewan to be inhabited by living bodies; in 
strictness they form the lowest members of the next great 
division of the strata, which is distinguished by the name 


pe) 
ot the Secondary Rocks. 'These will be treated of in our 
néxt section. 


CRANMER. 


On the 21st of March, 1556, Archbishop Cranmer 
underwent his death at Oxford by being burned at the 
stake. Thomas Cranmer was born in 1489, at Aslacton, 
i1 Nottinghamshire, of a family which is said to have 
coine over with William the Conqueror. Having been 
entercd of Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1503, he ob- 
tained a fellowship, but lost it on his marrying. His 
wife, however, llaving soon after died, he reeained the 
appointment. He seems now to have made up his 
mind to a life of celibacy, and, applying himself to the 
study of divinity, commenced doctor in 1528. It was 
In 1529 that au accidental meeting at Waltham Abbey, 
In Essex, with Edward Fox, the kine’s almoner, and 
Stephen Gardiner, his secretary, occasioned his intro- 
duction to Henry VILil., then in the midst of his efforts 
to obtain a divorce from his first wife Catherine of 
Arragon. Craniner is said to have suggested the plan 
of submitting the matter to the universities of Christen- 
dom instead of to the Pope; an expedient which as soon 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


‘discipline and in doctrine. 


fend himself within eighty days ;—a 


103 


as the King was informed of, he exclaimed with an oath, 
“That man has the sow by the right ear”? The anthor 
of the proposal was Immediately sent for to court, mude 
one of the royal chaplains, and rewarded with other 
ecclesiastical preferments. The following year he went 
abroad to manage the scheme which he had succested 
of consulting the universities and the most learned 
diyines ; and on this commission he traversed a con- 
siderable part of France, Italy, and Germany. In the 
latter country he contracted at Nuremberg a second 
marriage with Anne, the niece of the wife of Osiander, 
an eminent protestant divine. There can be no doubt 
indeed that Cranmer’s mind was by this time quite made 
up in favour of several of the most fiindamental articles 
of belief maintained by the reformers—especially their 
denial of the necessity of celibacy in the clergy, aud of the 
supremacy and dispensing power claimed by the Bishop 
of Rome. He had probably already formed the plan of 
employing his best endeavours to establish the Refor 
mation in England. While he was still abroad the 
archbishopric of Canterbury became vacant in August, 
1532, and the King immediately nominated bim to the 
see, and commanded him to return home. On the 23d 
of May, 1533, he pronounced the sentence of divorce 
between Henry and Queen Catherine > and on the 28th 
of the same month he publicly confirmed the marrlage 
which the King had previously contracted with Anne 
Boleyn. He now exerted himself strenuously to forward 
every innovation in the discipline of the church which 
tended to weaken the strength of its existing constitution ; 
and in this spirit both the translation of the Scriptures 
and the dissolution of the monasteries were promoted by 
him with great zeal. So long as Henry lived, however, 
he dared not attempt any direct change in the articles of 
religion, Ife was also during the whole of this reign 
obliged to keep his marriage a secret ; and in 1539, on 
a statute (commonly called the Act for the Six Articles) 
being passed in parliament, notwithstanding his anxious 
opposition, enforcing among other things the celibacy of 
the clerry, he deemed it safest to send back his wife to 
Germany. After the accession of Edward VI. his 
power was much more unrestrained ; and he exerted it so 
as toeffect the thorough reform of the church both in 
On the death of Edward, 
Cranmer was induced, but not till after many importn- 
nities, to follow the example of all the other members of 


the Privy Council, and to sign the instrument declaring 


the crown to have fallen to Lady Jane Grey. After the 
failure of the attempt to accomplish this settlement, the 


‘share which he had thns reluctantly taken in the affair 


was gladly made the pretence for destroying so formidable 
an enemy as he was likely to preve of that restoration of 
the old religion which was now contemplated.  Accord- 
ingly, being brought to trial, he was found euilty of 
high treason ; on which the revenues of his archbishopric 
were immediately sequestrated. Having, however, ac- 
knowledged his offence, and earnestly petitioued for 
mercy, he received her majesty’s pardon. But this show 
of clemency was only intended to prepare the way for his 
ruin on astill more odious charge. Onthe 20th of April, 
1554, he was brought along with Ridley and Latimer 
before commissioners appointed by the Queen, and after 
a short examination condemned with them as a lieretic, 
It was found, however, that im consequence of the 
Pope’s authority not being yet re-established in Ene- 
land, this sentence was void in luw; and Cranmer was 
therefore retained in custody till the 12th of September, 
1555, when he was again brouglit up before a commis- 
sion which sat in St. Mary’s Church, Oxford. The result 
was, that he was cominanded to appear at Roine to de- 
cruel inockery of 
justice, Inasmuch as, even had he been disposed to trust 
his cause to the decision ef the Pope, he had no power 
of repairing to the appointed tribunal, being kept all 


104 


the while in close. confinement. At. the end of the 
assigned period he was condemned as contumacious, 
and was immediately subjected to the ceremony of de- 
oradation, which was performed by Bishops Bonner and 
'Chirlby. Dressing the old man in archiepiscopal robes 
made of coarse canvas, they then stript them off him, 
piece by piece, and put on in their stead a thread-bare 
veoman’s gown, and a common cap. He was then re- 
manded to prison. But the malignant ingenuity of Ins 
persecutors was not yet satisfied—they hoped to disho- 
nour their victim still farther before consigning Ins body 
to the flames. In this view they assailed him by the 
iost. incessant and artful importunities, till they at 
length succeeded in their object of prevailing upon him 
to sign a recantation of his alleged crrors, On an assur- 
ance that his life should be saved. No sooner had they 
obtained what they desired, than the paper was printed, 
aud every where dispersed about. Meanwhile, on the 
14th of February, an order was issued for the execution 
of the now doubly unfortunate man on the 21st of the 
following month. On that day, accordingly, he was 
brought first into St. Mary’s Church, and there placed 
upon an elevated stage or platform opposite to the 
pulpit. . Being called upon to repeat his confession, he 
expressed instead, with floods of tears, his penitence. for 
the shameful weakness which had allowed it to be ex- 
torted from him. He was then led in haste to the spot. 
intended for his execution, over against Baliol College. 
Here being stript to his shirt, and having his shoes 
taken off, he was tied to the stake, and the fire hehted. 
{fe held out his right hand steadily all the while, amidst 
the keenest of the flames, often repeating “ ‘This unwor- 
thy hand,” in allusion to his recantation, which it had. 
subscribed. The last, words which he uttered were, 
“Lord Jesus, receive my spirit’” which he ejaculated 
oftener than once, looking up beseechingly to heaven. 


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[Portrait of Cranmer. | 





Steam-Engines.—Engineers estimate the force of steam- 
engines by a measure which they term the horse-power. 
This power is the force required to raise or move 528 cubic 
feet of water, which weighs 33,000lbs., through one foot of 
space per minute. The power of a man may be assumed 
equal to that of raising 60 cubic feet, which weighs 3750 Ibs. 


ayoir., through the space or height of one foot in a minute, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Marcu 16, 1833, 


or a proportionate weight to any other height, so that the 
height multiplied by the weight may give the product 3750lbs. 
A stout labourer will continue to work at this rate during eight 
hours per day*, A day’s labour of a man working thus 
continuously may therefore be reckoned at 28,800 cubic feet 
of water being raised one foot high; and in this proportion a 
one-hundred-and-fourteen-horse power 1s equal to the power 
of about one thousand men. The horse-power of the steam- 
engine, thus assumed, is beyond the usual power of an ordi- 
nary horse, a two-horse power being equal in reality to that 
of three horses. For instance, the power of a ten-horse 
steam-engine is equal to the force exerted by fifteen horses 
acting together; and if the engine work night and day, 
while each horse can only work during eight hours out of the 
twenty-four, it will really perform the work of forty-five 
horses; for it would require that number of horses to be 
kept to execute the same quantity of work. Any statement 
of the comparative cost of steam, horse, and manual labour, 
can be, of course, only an approximation to the truth, as 
this cost must necessarily depend on the prices of fuel con~ 
sumed by steam-engines, and on the expense of their wear 
and tear, of the keep of horses, and of the wages of manual 
labour—all of which vary with circumstances, and that not 
in a relative proportion. Data for ascertaining this point 
have been given by different writers. It is estimated that a 
heavy horse, working ten hours, will consume 15 lbs. of oats 
and 14\ibs. of hay in the course of the day. An engine of 
thirty-horse power, working ten hours, will consume about 
2952lbs.; or, as nearly as possible, one chaldron of New. 
castle coals. | - 
* Farey on the Steam-Engine. — 


et tS 





THE FIRST MILD DAY OF MAROH 


‘Ir is the first mild day of March ; 
Each minute sweeter than before, 
The red-breast siugs from the tall larch’. 
- That stands beside our door. 


There is a blessing in the air, 

Which seems a sense of joy to yield 
To the bare trees, and mountains bare, 
And grass in the green field. 


My sister! (tis a wish of mine) . 
Now that our morning meal is done, 
Make haste, your morning task resign; 
Come forth and feel the sun. 


Jdward will come with you, and pray, 

Put,on with speed your woodland dress , 

And bring no book: for this one day 

We'll give to idleness. — 3 

No joyless forms sliall regulate 

Our hving calendar : 
We from to-day, my frend; will date $9 
The opening of the year. 

Love, now an universal Inrth, — .- 

From heart to heart is stealing, . 

From earth to man, from man to earth, 

It is the hour of feeling. ~ — 


One moment now may give us more 
Than fifty years of reason : ~ 

Our minds shall drink at every pore 
The spirit of the season. 

Some silent laws our hearts will make, * 
Which they shall long obey: | 

We for the year to come may take ; 
Our temper from to-day. wail 


And from the blessed power that rolls | 
About, below, above, . sae tenet 
We'll frame the measure’ of our souls : | 
They shall be tuned to love. 


Then come, my sister! come, I pray, 

With speed put on.your woodland dress ; 

And bring no book: for this one day 

Well give to idleness. 

. . Worpsworrn. 








*.* The Office of.the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 13 at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Printed by Winn7am Crowes, Stamford Street. 





OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


62. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. ; . [Marcu 23, 1833; 





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(View of the Cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle.] 


A1x-La-CiuAPELLE was once the royal residence of Charle- | attractions now are the monuments of its former great- 

magne, the place where the Jumperors of Germany were | ness, and the natural springs to which it owes its name. 

erowned, and a city of great importance as the centre of | Aix-la-Chapelle, or the waters of the church or chapel, 

an extensive trade. At one period it is said to have | is the French name of this city, so called from its cele- 

ne above 100,090 inhabitants; but its principal | brated springs, and a chapel in the cathedral which con. 
OL. ii. | 


106 


tains a great number of relics. The name Air has the 
same signification as the Latin ‘aqua’ (water), and 1s 
given to a place in the south of France, and to another 
in Savoy, both noted for their warm springs. Our town 
of Bath, in England, was known ‘to the Romans by the 
nanie of Aque Solis, Waters of the Sun. The German 
name of Aix-la-Chapelle is Aachen, which also signifies 
‘waters. Bath receives its present name from its 
springs. Baden, which is evidently akin to our word 
Bath, is the name of several places in Germany, and one 
in Switzerland, which have warm springs. 

Aix-la-Chapelle is now the chief city of the district of 
Aix-la-Chapelle, one of the three divisions of the Prussian 
province of the Lower Rhine. It is in N. Lat. 50° 47, 
E. Long. 6° 3’, and is about 75 miles E. by S. of Brussels. 
Its situation is very agreeable, being surrounded by hills 
which are ornamented with forests, buildings, and culti- 
vated fields. ‘The town consists of two parts, the inner 
and outer town, and contains seventy-five streets, some 
of which are tolerably well built; that called the New 
Street is the handsomest. ‘The ramparts by which the 
city is surrounded serve as promenades. 

The mineral springs of Aix-la-Chapelle attract a con- 
siderable number of strangers, who visit them for health 
or for pleasure as the English do Bath and Cheltenham. 
The hot springs have a temperature of about 143 degrees 
of Fahrenheit; and are stronely impregnated with sul- 
phur, especially that called the E:mperor’s spring. In 
the market-place there is a fine source and a gilded 
bronze statue of Charlemagne: the bronze basin of 
the fountain is twenty-five feet in circumference. The 
cathedral, an ancient Gothic building, is more noted for 
its relics and the historical associations connected with 
it, than for its beauty, though it contains many objects 
which will attract a visitor's attention. It is loaded with 
small ornaments, which form a striking contrast with 
its pillars of granite, marble, and porphyry. The chair 
is still preserved in which so many German Emperors 
have been crowned since the time of Charlemagne: it is 
made of white marble of indifferent quality, and has no 
beauty of form to recommend it. Many of the orna- 
ments of this cathedral were carried to Paris by the 
French, but restored after the downfal of Bonaparte. 
The tomb of Charlemagne is in the cathedral, under 
the altar of the choir, and is made of white marble. 

This great Emperor chose as his burial-place the city 
which was his favourite residence, and which was in- 
debted to him for its restoration from ruins, and for 
many of its edifices which remain to the present day. 
He spared no expense in procuring the most costly 
materials to beautify the place of his own choice, which 
he had erected into the capital of all his dominions north 
of the Alps. ‘Till the dissolution of the Germanic empire, 
Aix-la-Chapelle was the place in which the coronation of 
the Kmperors of Germany by right was celebrated, 
though in some instances this ceremony took place at 
Frankfort. 

The cathedral has doors of bronze, about which there 
is a curious story told. ‘The citizens of Aix-la-Chapelle, 
as the story goes, being unable to raise money to com- 
plete the building, borrowed some from the devil, and 
surrendered in return the first soul that should pass the 
church-doors. When the building was finished, no- 
body could be found to fulfil the conditions of this wicked 
bargain; and so great was the fear of Satan's clutches 
in this most believing town, that the church might have 
stood empty till to-day, if a priest had not hit on the 
lucky device of hunting through the churcli a wolf which 
they had fortunately caught alive. The devil, full of 
spite at finding himself thus outwitted, slammed the 
bronze aoors behind him with such violence that they 
cracked. ‘{'o put unbelievers to shame, who might be 
bold enough to conjecture that the crack in the doors 
was caused by the wind violently shutting the doors, 


two bronze figures stand on che outside before the , 


ia 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcn 23, 


entrance, one: of which is the wolf-and the other the 
condemned soul of the wolf in the form of a monstrous 
pine cone*.” , 

Aix-la-Chapelle is sti!l a considerable town with a 
population of more than 36,000 people, and some manu- 
factures of woollen cloth, needles, Prussian blue, hats, 
&c. It has a handsome theatre and a public library of 
10,000 volumes. 

About a quarter of a mile to the east of Aix-!a-Cha- 
pelle, on the slope of a steep hill, is the little town of 
Burtschied, connected with the city by a pleasant walk. 
This place also contains springs both hot and cold, with- 
out any sulphur in them. ‘The temperature of the two 
hot springs is respectively 158° and 127° of Fahrenheit. 
This place also manufactures woollen cloth and needles: 
the population is about 5000. 

“ The abbey of Burtschied,” says Forster, a writer at 
the close of the last century, “is beautifully situated, and 


finished with all ecclesiastical splendour. Close by, a 


small wood runs towards a large reservoir, and as you 
advance you come to a narrow valley enclosed by woody 
hills, where several warm springs are soon discovered by 
the vapour that rises from them; and a laree reservoir 
is quite filled with hot water. As yon walk alone a 
series of beautifully shaded reservoirs, you see the 
romantic ruins of the old castle of Frankenberg.” 


4 





2 \e 


Ne . 


| Bronze Statue of Charlemagne. | 


oe 


THE SHEPHERDS OF THE ABRUZZI. 


We lately gave an account of the wandering Italians 
who are so frequently found in our streets; and we 
now propose to attempt a short description of a pastoral 
people in the South of Italy, who, though they do not 
quit their own country, make annual imgrations with 
their flocks on an extensive scale and to considerable 
distances. 

* George Forster, Ansichten von Niederrhein, &c. Neue auflage. ° 
Berlin, 1800. We are not quite sure that Forster (whose deserip- - 
tion is somewhat confused) alludes to the doors of the cathedral of 


Aix-la-Chapelle, which he calls the collegiate church. The cathe-_ 
dral has, however, bronze doors. 


833. ] 


These are the Abruzzesi, or peasants of the Abruzzi, 
wo mountainous provinces in the kingdom of Naples, 
which, comparing things with our own, may be called 
the Highlands of that country. ‘The plains about Sul- 
mona and Chieti, two of the most important cities in 
these parts, indeed the whole of the valley of the Pescara ; 
the flats and the declivities of the hills that surround the 
beautiful lake of Celano; some strips of land along the 
coast of the Adriatic, and a few other places, are suscep- 
tible of profitable cultivation, and are well cultivated ; 
but, generally speaking, the country is mountainous and 
rugged in the extreme, offering little to rural economy, 
save almost boundless sheep-walks and browsing rrounds 
for goats. Nature has therefore made the inhabitants of 
this country a pastoral people, and they are so to a degree 
which can hardly be imagined but by those who have 
visited these much neglected but interesting provinces. 
Entering fairly into the Abruzzi, above the romantic 
town of Castel di Sangro (as you do, coming from 
Naples), the traveller finds himself in a new world, the 
simple, primitive manners of which are most striking. 
He no longer sees the vines hung in festoons from the 
elm-trees, nor the broad-bladed vividly green Indian 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


corn, nor the exuberaut soil bearing two crops, nor | 
the flowering orchards and shady Italian pines, nor the { fined to the frontiers and to the mountain passes that 


thronging, noisy population he has left behind him in 
the agricultural and most fertile province of the Terra di 
Lavoro or Campagna Felice, but he sees immense flocks 
of sheep spread over the mountain pastures, he hears 
the continual tinkling of goat-bells from the mountain 
summits, he observes that the cottares and hamlets, 
instead of being surrounded by gardens and cultivated 
fields, are flanked and backed by sleep-cotes and 
stables; and that almost the only quality of person he 
meets on his way is a shepherd clad in his sheep-skin 
jacket, with sheep-skin buskins to his legs, and followed 
by his white, long-haired sheep-dog. Instead of the 
water being carried along in stone or brick aqueducts for 
the purposes of agriculture and horticulture, as in the 
lowlands, he sees it, here and there, caught and con- 
ducted in hollowed trees, cut from the mountain’s sides, 
which are fashioned not like our pipes but like open 
troughs, so that the flocks may drink out of them at any 
part of their course. Besides these simple ducts, he 
occasionally passes little stone fountains equally rustic in 
their structure, before which are placed a number of 
hollowed trees for the convenience of the sheep. In 
short, the aspect of the country is essentially pastoral. 
Manufacturing and (though in a much less degree) 
even agricultural populations are found gradually to 
ailapt themselves to the changes which are introducea 
into society and manners, and to keep somewhat near to 
the march of the age in which they live; but it is far 
different with a pastoral race inhabiting a wild and 
secluded country, and passing the greater part of their 
time in almost absolute solitude on the mountain's side : 
consequently the primitiveness of manners which we have 
mentioned as existing here is indeed most striking, and 
carries back the imagination to the early ages of the 
world. The Abruzzesi peasantry have the same taste 
for romantic tiaditions that distinguishes our highlanders 
aud the inhabitants of mountainous countries generally ; 
they are as superstitious—they have the same love of 
music, and their instrument is the same as that of our 
northern brethren, for their zampogna scarcely differs in 
any thing from the highland bag-pipe, which instrument, 
be it said, is also found in nearly all the mountainous 
countries of the world. Some of their superstitions are 
evident remnants of ciassic paganism; others are a 
compound of monkish legends aud paganism, and the 
inass is, of course, what has arisen from the Romish 
church. ‘They have a traditionary reverence for the 
name of their countryman Ovid, but, like the poor 
Neapolitans who believe that Virgil was a great ma- 
gician, they make their poet’s fame depend upon his 


—_—- 


A 





} 


107 


having been a mighty adept in necromancy. In the 
town of Sulmona, the place of the poet’s birth, they 
keep a rude stone statue which people have chosen 
to call Ovidio Nasone, though it is more probably the 
eficy of some portly abbot of the fourteenth century. 
As the writer of this articie was standing’ before it one 
day, a shepherd boy, who was returning from the market 
in the town, took off lis hat to it, as though it had been 
the image of a saint. The traveller did not then know 
Ovid’s fame as a magician, and was much delighted at 
what he thought a mark of popular reverence to genius, 
and asked himself the question whether au Enelish 
peasant would doff his cap to the statue of Shakspeare 
or of Milton. 

The Abruzzesi shepherds are a fine race of men, and 
make excellent soldiers, particularly cavalry ; though they 
are naturally averse to the military service. The best 
disciplined and steadiest troops in Murat’s army were 
raised in this part of his kingdom. In former times the 
country was much infested by banditti, and one of the 
most famous robber chiefs mentioned in modein history 
——Marco Sciarra—was an Abruzzese. Except in times 
of execrable misrovernment, as under some of the 
Spanish viceroys, these depredations were almost con 


lead into the Roman states, and the troops of brigands 
were rather composed of Roman and Neapolitan outlaws, 
invited there by the facilities for plundering, and the 
security offered in those mountainous wilds, than of the 
native peasantry. Of late years scarcely an instance 
of brizandage has been heard of—except in the case of a 
band that came from a different part of the kingdom, 
and was soon suppressed, mainly by the peasants them- 
selves. In 1823 the writer of this short account tra- 
velled through the greater part of the country—in the 
wildest places alone on horseback, or only with such a 
eude as he could pick up among the peasantry, and 
instead of robbers and cut-throats he found every where 


| honest people, who were civil, and even hospitable. 


Winter is felt in these mountains in great, and im some 
places in its utmost rigour. The lofty summits of the 
Gran Sasso d’Italia (the Great Rock of Italy, the highest 
peak in the Peninsula) are nearly always covered with 
deep snow—so are the mountains above Aquila, the 
capital of the provinces, and many others of the ridges ; 
while the crevasses (rifts) in the superior parts of Monte 
Majello that towers above Sulmona offer enduring and 
increasine’ fields of ice and glaciers that may astonish 
even the traveller who has seen those of the Alps. 
Among the wild beasts the bear and the wolf are still 
found in considerable numbers. ‘The “ Piano di cinque 
migiie,” or the Plain of five miles, whichis a narrow flat 
valley almost at the top of the Apeunines, but flanked 


| by the summits of these mountains, and which is the 


principal communication with Naples, is subject to drifts, 
and those hurricanes called ¢ourmens. Accumulations of 
snow frequently render the road impassable, and some- 
times endanger and destroy life. The winds that blew 
from these mountains even so early as the end of summer, 
are often bleak and piercing. The numerous flocks that 
feed on, and beautify their pastures in summer, would 
droop and perish if exposed there in the winter. Con- 
sequently, at the approach of that season, the Abruzzesi 
peasants emigrate with them into the lowlands or 
Puglia. 

The plain of Puglia is an immense amphitheatre, 
wliose front is open to the Adriatic Sea, and the rest of 
it enclosed by Mount Garganus and a_ semicircular 
sweep of the Apennines, prominent among which is the 
lofty cone of Mount Vultur (an extinct volcano, the craters 
of which are now romantic lakes). The mountains, 
however, generally defend the plain from the worst winds 
of winter, aud the climate is as mild and genial through- 


‘out the year as might be expected from the favourable 


latitude of the place, and its trifling elevation above the 
, 2 


105 


sea, The want of water, and the entire absence of trees 
which would attract humidity to the thirsty soil, have 
been reasons why this immense flat has been left 
almost untouched by the plough or spade. The great 
expanse presents the appearance of an eastern desert, 
over which, when not sparingly enlivened by the pre- 
sence of the Abruzzesi and their flocks, you may travel 
in all direetions for miles and miles withont meeting a 
human being, or any signs of human industry —without 
seeing a tree or a bush, or any elevation in the dead flat, 
to mask the view of the Adriatic and the surrounding 
mountains. 

It is said by the Neapolitan historians, that their 
king, Alfonso of Arragon, seeing this immense plain des- 
titute of men, determined to people it with beasts; but 
it is probable, from the advantages it offers, andl the 
difieulties of their own mountain ‘okieiaiicn that the shep- 
herds of the Abruzzi have in all ages resorted to it in 
winter as they now do, and that Alfonso merely reg‘u- 
lated some laws and duties, whose prineipal tendeney 
was to enrich the exchequer of the state by deriving 
some revenue from waste lands. In modern times a 
department of government has been appointed exclu- 
sively to the eharge of the “‘Pavoghere di Puglia,” as it 
is called in Neapolitan statistics; and the head of this 
department, who was generally a person of rank, was 
obliged to reside oceasionaliy at Fog@ia. Of late years 
some ehanges have been introduced in this branch of the 
administration. 

Every floek of sheep as it arrives is counted, and has 
to pay a certain sum, proportionate to its number, for 
the right of pasture; and small as are these rates, from 


the immense droves that come, they form an aggregate | 


which, after the expenses of colleeting, &c., are paid, 
annually gives to the Neapolitan government many 
thousand eens) | 

Large sheds, and low houses built of al and stone, 
that look like stabling, exist here and there on the plain, 
and have either been i erected by the great sheep pro- 
prietors, or are let out to them at an easy, rent by the 
factors of. the tavogliere. ‘ Other temporary homesteads: | © 
are eonstructed by-the shepherds themselves as -they 
arrive; and @ few pass the winter in tents .eovered with 
very thick and eoarse dark cioth, woven with-wool and 
hair, The:permanent houses are generally large enough 
to aeeominodate a whole soeiety of. shepherds ; the teim- 
porary huts and tents are always erected in:groups, that 
the shepherds of the same flocks may be near-.to eaeh 
Other. .. The . sheep- -folds are ‘in the rear of the large 
houses, . but. generally placed in the midst - of the huts 
and tents. On account of .the wolves, that frequently 
deseend from the-mountains ‘and commit severe ravages, 
they are obliged to keep a reat number. of dogs, ‘which 
are of a remarkably fine breed, being rather lars ver than 
our Newfoundland dog’, : very strongly made, snowy 
white in eolour, and bold and faithful. . You eannot ap- 
proach these pastoral hamlets, either by. might or day, 
without being beset by these vigilant. ruardians, _ that 


> 


look sufficiently formidable when they charge the in 
truder (as often happens) in troops of a dozen or fifteen. 
hey have frequent eneounters with the wolves, evident 
signs of which some of the old eampaigners show in 
their persons, being now. and then fonud sadly torn and 
maimed, ‘The shepherds, say. that two of them, *‘ of the 
tight sort,” are a match for an ordinary wolf. 

“The writer of this notice has:several times.seen a 20 0c] 
deal of these Abruzzesi shepherds | in their winter esta- 
blishments. ‘The first time he came in contact with 
them was in the month of February, 1$17, in the. eourse 
of a journey through the southern provinces of thie 
kingdom of Naples. He had no companion except the 
CMiabrian pony that carried him, and a rough-haired 
Scotch terrier (a creature of a very different disposition), | 
when he arrived at the almost undistinguishable site of 
the town of Cannz, near which the fatal battle was 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. [Marén 28 
fought, which is in the midst of the wild plain, about six 
miles from the town of Canosa (anciently Canusium), 
and uot quite so far from the shores ‘of the Adriatic. 
The most perfect solitude and stillness reigned there 
but when he ascended the slightly elevated mound on 
which Canne had stood, he saw m a Jittle hollow at a 
short distance a very long, low tenement, at the door of 
which were some men with sheep-dogss, and he perceived 
large flocks of white sheep mbbling the short grass on 
all the little hillocks around him, and over the plain on 
both sides the river Ofanto, on the identical field of the 
Roman and Carthaginian conflict, to a great distance. 
The only objects that remained on the site of Cann were 
some traces of walls that once girded the mound; on 
the summit of the mound some excavations, or subter- 
ranean ehambers, with well or eistern-like mouths, which 
were Open; and at a little distance two large slabs of 
stone, placed on end in the ground, and: leaning 
against each other,—a simple monument, by which the 
peasantry of the country point out the field of Canna, 
or, as they call it, “ the field of blood.” Attracted by I's 
appearanee, for the sieht of a stranger is a rarity, two of 
the men came up from the house to the traveller while 
he was measuring and examinmg the ground. ‘Though. 
uncouth in their appearance they were very eourteous, 
and not only gave him several little pieces of local. 
information, whieh showed that popular tradition had 
faithfully preserved the memory of the great events that 
onee oeeurred in that solitude, but they assisted him to 
deseend into one of the subterranean ehambers, which 
they called (as the ehambers in all probability had been) 
‘“ orananies,’ or corn magazines *, 

By the time the stranger had finished his examination 
and queries on the spot the sun was setting, and, at the 
invitation of the shepherds, he went down to the house. 
As he reached the rude but hospitable door, a tall 
venerable man with a snow-white .sheep-skin pelisse, 


who had just dismounted from a shagey. little mare, 
eae up, and bade.him: welcome. 


This was the chief 
shepherd. . He expressed his reeret that the tugurio (hut) 

offered so little that a ventleman could eat, but all that 
ne had. the stranger (who was too hunery to be delicate) 

vas welcome to. A youth, the old man’s grandson, was 
meal set to work to fry an.omelette and some 
lardo or fat bacon. While this was doing, several other 
shepherds | arrived, driving their flocks before them to, the 
spacious eotes in the rear‘of the house—and later, there 
came others in a’similar ways agi) all of the company 
were collected... , , 

Besides his omelette onal vie, the traveller’s repast 
was enriehed with some. good. Indian corn bread, some 
ricotta, which is a, delicious preparation « of goat’s milk, 
and some generous wine bought . at. the neighbouring 
town of Canosa. The su meanwhile. had set—there 
is seareely any. twilight in these sonthern regions, and 
before. his meal was finished it was almost dark night. 
The kind old man did not like the idea of his travelling 
at such an hour: he; however, offered him two shepherds 
as an escort to Canosa if he, would | 00; but if he would 
stay where he was, and eontent himself witha shepherd’s 
lodging for the mmeht, he was weleome. . The traveller 
did oe hesitate iu accepting the invitation, and when his 
pony was put up in a sort of barn attached to the house, 
he made himself very eomfortable on a low wooden 
bench which the men covered with sheep-skins for him, 
near the fire. 

When all the pastoral sociely was assembled, the 
patriarehal chief shepherd taking the lead, they repeated 
aloud, and with well modulated. responses, the evening 
prayers, or the Catholic service of “Ave Maria.” A boy 
then lit a massy old brass lamp, that looked as if it had 
been dug out of Pompeii, and on produeing it said, 


| 
Oy Corn is still kept in subterranean chambers in the same manner 
at Canosa, Troja, Lucera, Foggia (a great grain-market), Manfte- 
donna, and all this part of Apulia, 


1833.] 


«Santa notte a tutta la compagnia’—(a holy meght to all 
the company*). ‘The shepherds then took their supper 
which was very frugal, consisting principally of Indian 
corn bread and raw onions with a very little wine. Some 
of them, after their meal, sat round the fire conversing: 
with their visitor and others went to rest. 

The whole of the interior of the room was occupied 
by one long apartment, in the middle of which was the 
fire- place, unprovided with a chimney, the smoke finding 
its way through the crannies in the roof and other aper- 
tures: on the sides of the apartment were spread the dried 
broad blades of the Indian corn and sheep-skins which 
formed the shepherds’ beds, but there were two or three 
little constructions (not unlike the berths on board ship) 
made against the wall, which were warm and comfortable, 
and occupied by the old man and other privileged mem- 
bers of the society, one of whom kindly vacated his dor- 
mitory for the stranger. Besides these rustic beds and 
the wooden benches, “the lamps and some cooking utensils, 
there was scarcely any other furniture in the room. 

The scene that presented itself in that singular inte- 
rior, as the traveller peeped out of his snug berth, was 
such as cannot easily be forgotten. The light of the 
lamp—and, when that was extinguished, the flickering 
flames of the fire in the centre of the room, disclosed 
in singular chiaroscuro the figures of the shepherds 


S e « 
sleeping in their sheep-skins, along the sides of the 


* This custom is found to prevail in nearly all the country ships. 
When the mozzo or calbin-boy lights the lamp he pays: © Buona 
‘or Santa) notte al capitano e a tutta la compagnia.” 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


109 


room near to the fire; the rugged roof of the apart- 
went, by smoke and time, was as black as jet, and the 
two extremities of the habitation were lost in oloom. 
Some old fire-arms hung by the berth of the principal 
shepherd; the strong knotty sticks and-the lone crooks 
of the men were placed against the wall. Sev eral of the 
huge dog's lay dreaming with their noses to the fire, and 
round the fire-place still remained the rude wooden 
benches, on some of which the shepherds had thrown 
their cloaks and other parts of their attire in most 
picturesque confusion. Soon, however, the flames died 
on the hearth, the embers merely smouldered, and all 
was darkness, but not all silence, for the men snored 
most sonorously ; the wind, that swept across the wide, 
open plain, howled round the house, and occasionally the 
dogs joined in its chorus. These things, however, did 
not prevent the traveller from passing a comfortable 
night, and with a sense of as great security, inasmuch 
as the poor shepherds were concerned, as he could have 
enjoyed had he been among friends in England. ; 
The next morning, when he was about to continue his 
journey to Canosa, “he offered money for the accommo- 
dations he had received. ‘This the old shepherd refused, 
and seemed hurt by his pressing it upon him. Nothing 
then remained but thanks and a kind leave-taking. : 
‘These shepherds were to remain where they then were 
until the middle of spring, when they would slowly re- 
trace their steps to the Abruzzi, whence they woulda 


again depart for the Pianura di Pugiia at the approach 


of winter. 





THE ESKIMAUX DOGS. 


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[Eskimaux harnessing their Dogs to a Sledge. ] 


Tue Eskimaux, a race of people inhabiting the most 
northerly parts of the American continent, and the ad- 





joining islands, are dependent upon the services of this 
faithful species of dog for most of the few comforts of 


110 


their lives; for assistance in the chase; for carrying 
burdens ; and for their rapid and certain conveyance over 
the trackless snows of their dreary plains. ‘The dogs, 
subjected to a constant dependence upon their masters, 
receiving scanty food and abundaut chastisement, assist 
them in “hunting the seal, the rein-deer, and the bear. 
In the summer, a single dog carries a weight of thirty 
pounds, 1 in attending his master in the pursuit of game : 
in winter, yoked in numbers to heavy sledges, they drag 
five or six persons at the rate of seven or “eight miles an 
hour, and will perform journeys of sixty niles a day. 
What the rein-deer is to the Laplander, this dog is to 
the Eskimaux. He is a faithful slave, who erumbles, 
but does not rebel; whose endurance never tires; and 
whose fidclity is never shaken by blows and starving. 
These animals are obstinate in their nature: but the 
women, who treat them with more kindness than the 
men, and who nurse them in their helpless state, or when 
they ave sick, have an unbonnded command over their 
affections ; and can thus catch them at any time, and 
entice them from their huts, to yoke them to the sledges, 
even when they are suffering the severest hunger, and 
have no resource but to eat the most tough and filthy 
remains of animal matter which they can espy on their 
laborious journeys. 

The mode in which the Eskimaux dogs are em- 
ployed in drawing the sledge, is described: in a very 


striking manner by Captain Parry, in his ‘Journal of 


a Second Voyage for the discovery of a North-West 
passage :— 

‘When drawing a sledgc, the dogs have a simple 
harness (a@nnoo) of deer or seal-skin, going round the 
neck by one bight, and another for each of the fore-legs, 
with a single thong leading over the back, and attached 
to the sledge asa trace. ‘Though they appear at first 
sight to be huddled togethcr without regard to regu- 
larity, there is, in fact, considerable attention paid to 
their arrangement, particularly in the selection of a doe 
of peculiar spirit and sagwacity, who is allowed, by a longer 
trace, to preccde the rest as leader, and to whom, in 
turning to the right or left, the driver usually addresses 
himself. ‘This choice is made without revard to age or 
sex 5 and the rest of the dogs take precedency according 
to their training’ or sagacity, the least effective being put 
nearest thie sledge. The leader is usua lly. from eiehteen 
to twenty fcet from the fore part of the sledge, and the 
Inndimost dog about half that distance ; so that when tel 
or twelve are running to@cther, severa! are nearly abreast 
of each other. ‘Phe driver sits quite low, on the fore 
part of the sledge, with his feet overhanging the snow on 
one side, and having in his hand a whip, of which the 
hhaudle, made either of wood, bone, or whalebone, is 
cigntcen inches, and the lash more than as many feet, 
in length: the part of the thong next the handle is 
platted a little way down to stiffen it, amid“ civemt ao 
spring, on which much of its use depends ; and that 
which composes the lash is chewed by the women, to 
make it flexible in frosty. weather. The men acquire 


from their youth considerable expertness in the use of 


this whip, the lash of which is left to trail alone the 
eround by the side of the sledec, and with which they 
can inflict a very severe blow on any dog at pleasure. 

‘“ In chirecting the sledge, the whip acts no very ‘essen- 
tial part, the digas for this purpose using: certain words, 
as the carters do with us, to make the dogs turn more to 
the right or left. To these a oood acs attends with 
adinirable precision, especially if his own name be repeated 
at the same time, looking behind over his shoulder with 
erent carnestness, as if listening to the directions of the 
driver. Ona beal@n track, or even wherc a single foot 
or s!edoe-inark is occ asionally discernible, there is iw the 
slichtest trouble in guiding the dogs: for even in the 
‘en kest night, and in the heda iest snow-drift, there 1s 
little or no danger of their losing the road, the leader 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


A AR ge gh hf = PP 


‘live 


{Marcu 23 


keeping his nose near the ground, and directing the rest 
with wonderful sagacity.” 

The dogs of the Eskimaux offer to us a striking 
example of the ereat services which the race of dogs has 
rendered to mankind in the progress of civilization. ‘Phe 
inhabitants of the shores of Baffin’s Bay, and of those 
still more inclement regions to which our discovery ships 
have penetrated, are perhaps never destined to advance 
much farther than their prescnt condition in the scale 
of humanity. 
the gratification of any desires beyond the commonest 
animal wants. In the short summers, they hunt the 
rein-deer for a stock of food and clothing; during the 
long winter, when the stern demands of hunger “drive 
them from their snow huts to search for provisions, they 
still find a supply in the rein-deer 
in holes under the ice of the lakes, and in the bears which 
prowl about on the frozen shores of the sea. Without 
the exquisite scent and the undaunted courage of their 
dogs, the several objects of their chase could never be 
obtained in sufficient quantities during the winter, to 
supply the wants of the inhabitants; nor could the men 
be conveyed from place to place over the snow, with that 
celerity which greatly contributes to their success in 
hunting. In drawing the sledges, if the does scent a 
single rem-deer, evel a quarter of a mile distant, they 

vallop off furiously in the direction of the scent ; and the 
animal is soon within reach of the uncrring arrow of the 
hunter. ‘They will discover a seal-hole entirely by the 
smell, at a very great distance. ‘Their desire to attack 
the ferocious bear is so great, that the word nennook, 
which signifies that animal, is often used to encourage 
them, when running in a sledge; two or three dogs, 
led forward by a man, will fasten upon the largest bear 
without hesitation. ‘They are eager to chase every 
animal but the wolf; and of him they appear to have an 
instinctive terror which manifests itself on his approach, 
in a loud and long-continued howl. Certainly there is no 
aniinal which combines so many properties useful to his 
master, as the dog of the Eskimaux. 

The dogs of the ISskimaux Icad always a fatieuing, 
and often a very painful life. In the summer they are 
fat and vigorous; for they have abundance of kaow, or 
the skin and part of the blubber of the walrus. But 
their feeding in winter is very precarious. . Their 
masters have but little to spare; and the dogs become 


miserably thin, at a time when the severest labour is 


imposed upon them. It is not, therefore, surprising 
that the shouts and blows of their drivers have no effect 
in preventing them from rushing out of their road to 
pick up whatever they can desery : ; or that they are con- 
stantly creeping into the huts, to pilfer any thing within 
their reach: their chances of success are but small; for 
the people within the huts are equally keen in the pro- 
tection of their stores, and they spend half their time in 
shouting out the names of the intruders (for the dog's 
have alt names), and in driving them forth by the most 
unmerciful blows. 

The hunger whith the Eskiane dogs feel so severely 
in winter, is somewhat increased by the temperature they 
in. In cold climates, and in temperate oncs in 
cold weather, animal food is required in larger quantities 
than in warm weather, and in temperate regions. ‘The 
only mode which the dogs have of assuaging or de- 
ceiving the calls of hunger, is by the disteusion of the 
stomach with any filth which they can find to swallow. 
The painful sense of hunger is generally regarded as the 
elfect of the contraction of the stomach, which effect is 
constantly increased by a draught of cold hquid. Captain 


Parry mentions that in winter the Eskimaux dogs will 


not drink water, unless it happen to be oily. They know, 
by experience, that their cravings would be increased by 
this indulgence, and they lick some clean snow as a snb- 
stitute, which produces a less contraction of the stomach 


Their chimate forbids them attempting 


, in the seals which lie 


1833. ] 
than water. 
of some substance for the distension of their stomachs. 


STATISTICAL NOTES—(Continued). 


(37.) We have adverted to the main articles of export 
fron. Great Britain, and it now remains to complete the 


view of British commerce, by specifying the articles of 


import. During the last half century, these latter have 
cousisted of sugar, tea, corn, timber and naval stores, cot- 
ton wool, woods and drugs for dyeing, tobacco, silk, hides 
and skins, spices, bullion, &c. and considerable quan- 
tities have always been re-exported. The increase of 
our trade with all parts of the world may be seen by 
the following statement, which is oiven as the annual 
medium of five periods of peace. The annual imports 
from 1698 to 1701 were, upon an average, of the official 
value of £5,569,952; from 1749 to 1755 they were 
£8,211,346 ; from 1784 to 1792 they were £17,716,752: 
in 1802, £31,442,318;: and from 1816 to 1829, 
£34,921 ,538. The average annual exports,during thesame 
periods, were, respectively, £6,449,594; £12,220,974; 
£18,621,942; £41,411,966; and £53,126,195. ‘The 
separate amount of the trade with each country may be 
found in Mr. Cesar Moreau’s Tables, from which the 
above is taken. We shall proceed to notice in succes- 
sion some of the present principal articles of import. 

(38.) Sugar. ‘The sources from which the supply of 
Sugar is derived are the West Indies, Brazil, Surinam, 
and the Kast Indies, including Java, Mauritius, and 
Bourbon. ‘The average quantity exported from the 
whole of these countries exceeds half a million tons, of 
which about 190,000 are from the British West Indies. 
The consumption of sugar on the Continent amounts to 
about 260,000 tons, including what is sent from Great 
Britain. That of the United States is about 75,000 
tons, mcluding 40,000 tons produced in Louisiana. In 
this country, sugar did not come into general use till the 
latter part of the seventeenth century, and in L700 the 
quantity consumed was about 10,000 tons. In 1754 it 
had reached 53,270 tons, and it now exceeds 180,000 
tons, or 400,000,000 lbs. The duty on West India 
sugars 1s 24s. per ciwt.; on East India sugars, 32s.; and 
ou foreign sugars, 63s. per ewt. The price of sngar, 
exclusive of the duty, may be taken at from 22s. to 35s. 
per cwt. ‘The average consumption of Great Britain 
is after the rate of 23 lbs. to each individual: but with 
reference to the consumption of coffee and tea, and 
otherwise, it might certainly be much greater than it is; 
and it is to be feared that Mr. Huskisson spoke too 
truly in 1829, when he affirmed that two-thirds of the 
poorer consumers of eoffee drank that beverage without 
sugar. In Ireland, however, the consumption is still 
less, for the entire consumption of that country is under 
45,000,000 Ibs., which gives only 53 Ibs. to each indi- 
vidual. It is not easy, moreover, to assien a good reason 
for the difference of duty between East and West India 
sugar. ‘ihe gross receipt of the duties on all kinds of 
sugar in the year 1830 was £6,063,321. 

(39.) ‘Fea was hardly known in this country till the 
middle of the seventeenth century. In 1711 the quan- 
tity of tea consuined in Great Britain was 141,995 lbs. ; 
in 1741, 1,031,540 Ibs.; in 1771, 5,566,793 Ibs.; in 
ISOl, 20,237,753 Ibs.; in 1811, 20,702,809 Ibs.; in 
1821, 22,892,913 lbs.; and in 1831, 26,043,223 lbs. ‘he 
rapid increase of the consumption for about a century is 
no less remarkable than the fact, that, since the year 
1500, the consumption, as compared with the population, 
has been steadily declining. It will appear, by the com- 
parison of the above statement with the population in the 
years 1801, 1811, 1821, and 1831, respectively, that the 
consumption per head was in 1801, Llb. 13°6 0z.; in 
1Sit1, Lib. 10°20z.; in 1821, Llb. 9°40z.; and in 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Dogs, in general, can bear hunger for a{ 1831, 1lb. 9°20z. 
very long time, without any serious injury, having a supply | 17 


| duties, which is 96 per cent. on teas sold at less than 


V1 


O° e 

This decrease, amounting to full 
r cent., has been attributed to t] . 

pe r n atiributed to the high price occa- 


sioned in part by the trade being in the exclusive hands 
of the Kast-India Company, and in part by the lrie-h 
258. 
per lb., and 100 per cent. on all at or above 9s. per Ib. 
Comparing the price of tea at the East-India Com. 
pany’s sales in London with the cost prices, duty free, jn 
Hamburg, Rotterdam, and New York, there is a con- 
siderable excess in the London prices. For instance, 
in 1829 bohea was sold at the Company’s sales jn 
London at ls. 6$d., and in Hamburgh, 84d.; con- 
vou was, in London, 2s. 4d., and in Hambureh, 
ls. 24d.; souchong, in London, 2s. 10id., and in Ham- 
burgh, 1s. l¢d.; hyson, in London, 4s. 13d., and in 
Hamburgh, 2s. 8d.; and gunpowder, in London, 
6s. 64d., and in Hamburgh, 3s. 54d.; the common teas at 
Hamburgh being as good, and the finer teas decidedly 
better than in London. | 

(40.) Our supply of timber comes chiefly from the 
Baltic and the British North American proviuces, and. 
the duties paid upon its importation, in the year 1830, 
amounted to £1,319,233. ‘The importance of a cheap 
supply of wood for building houses and ships, and for 
machinery, furniture, &c. is very obvious; but the price 
of good timber is much enhanced by the duties on all 
foreign wood, not being of the growth of the British 
plantations in America. Timber imported from foreign 
countries is made to pay £2. 15s. per load, whilst that 
from Canada pays only 10s. The practice of encouraging 
North American timber in preference to that of foreign 
countries took its rise in the year 1809, during the 
continental war. But the expediency of its continuance 
since the peace has been much doubted, for it has 
seriously affected the trade with the Baltic, which, in 
1809, employed 428,000 tons of British shipping, and, in. 
1816, after seven years’ operation of the discriminatine 
duties, only 181,000 tons. The sacrifice of revenue has 
been estimated at £1,500,000 a year. The present go- 
vernment proposed, in the session of 1831, the gradual 
reduction of the duties on foreign timber to £2 a load, 
which would still have left a protection of 30s. a load to 
Canada timber, but the proposition was lost in the House 
of Commons. Without desiring to express any opi- 
lion upon the question between the Baltic and Canada 
timber, it may be observed generally, that it is the 
paramount duty of a legislature to prefer uniformly the 
greneral welfare to the advancement ef private in- 
terests.- It is true that all interests ought to be ad- 
vocated and heard in Parliament; but the politicai 
economist ought also to be heard as the advocate of the © 
mass of consumers; and although the function of the 
levislator differs from that of the public economist, inas- 
niuch as the former is in the situation of a judee, and 
niust determine the cases in which general priuciples 
should be inodified to meet particular emergencies, still 
the modification ought to be regarded as the exception, 
and the general principle as the standing rule. Every 
trade and every interest urges, in its turn, that there 1s 
something peculiar in its circumstances, which entitles it 
to the particular favour of government; and if all were 
favoured, it is plain that the public would be injured, 
and the eeneral interest compromised. 


SEAL OF ALFRIC EARL OF MERCIA, 


TurReE are two modes of estimating the value of ancient 
monuments in reference to their deaudy as pleasing the 
eye, end in reference to their wse as conveying: iuforma- 
lion to the mind. | 

The artist, who merely seeks a model for. his chisel,. 
or a subject for his peucil, too often despises the relic, 
which, though deficient in grace or elegance, is perhaps 


| of the greatest value to the historical inquirer. 


112 


The collector, who makes antiquity his idol, estimates 
that which is old merely on account of its age; and his 
undiscriminating admiration of trifles which convey no 
pleasure to the ordinary spectator, and from which the 
learned cannot extract any instruction, tends to throw 
discredit upon the whole genus to which they belong. 

A third individual, whom for want of a better term 
we will distinguish as the Archaeologist, bestows a due 
share of admiration upon the beauty of art, and yields 
an adequate respect for the eldcr day ; but at the same 
time he considers that the best claim winch ancient 
monuments, taking the word in its widest sense, have 
upon our attention, is derived from the lessons which 
they afford. . They are frequently scattered . leaves, 
belonging to the lost books of history, and supplying 
knowledge which we cannot find in the scanty and 
imperfect annals which have descended to posterity. 





The seal above engraven, and lately. discovered in 
digging a bank near Winchester, affords a most curious 
illustration of the manner in which ancient monuments 
fill up the chasms of written history. 

The inscription “ -- Sigintum Aurricir Au,” in- 
forms us that the noble to whom it belonged was Alfric, 
Karl or Alderman of Mercia, who holds a conspicuous 
though not a very honourable station in the transactions 
of the reign of Ethelred. He was the son of Karl 
Alfere, and was first noticed about 983. In 985, as the 
Saxon Chronicle tells us, he was “ driven out of the land,” 
bein’ probably banished or outlawed by the Witanage- 
mot. In 991 we find him again in England; and he 
is noticed as one of the nobles by whose treacherous and 
cowardly advice the ‘English nation first consented to 
render that ill-fated tribute, the Danegclt; by which 
they gave an additional incitement to the hostility of 
their greedy and ruthless foes. 

Alfnic, notwithstanding his repeated acts of treachery, 
was much trusted by Ethelred; and in 992-he was 
appointed commander of the land forces destined to 
resist the Danish invaders. 

But Alfric gave secret intelligence to the enemy, and 
the night before the battle, he “‘ skulked away from the 
ariny,’ says the Saxon Chronicle, to “his ereat dis- 
orace,” The few remaining notices of his life relate 
principally to his acts of perfidy. 

We have notice that Alfric was Alderman or Earl of 
Mercia. Now one of the most obscure questions in our 
constitutional history, arises out of the station of these 
dignitaries after the conquest. In the latter ages of 
Anglo-Saxon history these titles were used as equivalents 
to each other, and we may here remark that the 
eradual declension of the title of Alderman is a curious 
exemplification of the progress of our commonwealth. 
Originally all the chieftains of the Anglo-Saxon tribes 
were called Aldermen or Eldermen, Seniors or Senators. 
But when certain of these chiefs acquired a prepon- 
derance over ihe others then the title of Alderman sank 
a stage lower, and was applied to the minor or petty 
sovereigns who were compelled to acknowledge the 
supremacy. of their more powerful neighbours.’ By 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


‘Ethelred’s coins. 


[Marcu 23, 1833. 


degrees it sank further, till at last the Alderman 
became the magistrate of a town, and the introduction 
of the Danish term Jarl, or lvarl, probably accelerated 
the downward progress of the older title. But we must 
revert to our seal and to the points which it elucidates. 

Jn the Anglo-Norman era the Iarls were created by 
the girding of the sword, a ceremony which continued 
in. use to the reign of James I. ‘That such a custom 
existed in the Anglo-Saxon era, we had, until the dis- 
covery of this seal, no authcrity except the assertion ot 
John of Wallingford, a compiler, supposed to have 
flourished in the thirteenth century, and whose Chronicle 
contais many curious notices of Saxon affairs, not found 
in other writers, and which have been considered 
as suspicious because’ they rested upon his single 
authority. But those who so reason do not reason legi- 
timately, because it is quite possible that John ot 
Wallingtord may have had access to materials now lost ; 
and this seal, by exhibiting Alfric holding the sword or 
lis dignity, precisely shows that Wallingford was cor- 
rect in his description of the insignia of an Anglo-Saxon 
Earl. Therefore we may fairly infer that his authority 
is good with respect to other particulars of which no 
corroboration has been found. Weconfirm his evidence 
In a pout so minute as to render it very improbable that 
it would have been introduced by a wilful forger. - Thus 
we establish his gencral character as well as the impor- 
tant fact that the Anglo-Norman custom was retained 
after the conquest of the country by the Normans. 

Various passages in the Anglo-Saxon laws and chro- 
nicles lead to the supposition that the Earls enjoyed a 
power approaching to sovercigynty, and derived from the 
station which their predecessors possessed in the pristine 
ages of the Anglo-Saxon commonwealth. 

This seal gives additional ground for adopting this 
theory. . pot 

Alfric’s head is encircled by a diadem exactly like the 
diadem of King Ethelred, and which appears on ‘King 
In the middle ages the costume was 
not a matter of fancy as upon modern coins, which 
exhibit an Jénglish King in the garb of the Cisars,’ nor 
were such tokens of dignity lightly assumed. It is 
thercfore most probable that the royal diadem of Alfric 
denotes his possession of an authority bordering upon 
royalty. _& 

A. third question 1s’elucidated by this seal. After the 
Norman Conquest it became the usage for kings and 
great men, and ultimately for all persons to confirm their 
legal acts, their grants, or their charters, by fixing’ an 
impression of their seal, «At the present day, a seal is 
indispensable to a deed. : This custom has been supposed 
to be Norman, and either introduced by Edward the 
Confessor, who was much Normanized in his habits, or 
by the Conqueror. ‘This opinion, however, was in some 
measure shaken by the drawing of two or three Anglo- 
Saxon seals belonging to prelates who flourished before 
the reign of the Confessor, but there was no evidence to 
show that the laity used seals anterior to this period, 
except a single obscure passage in the Chronicle o 
William of Malmesbury, who flourished in the reign o 
Henry I. Were again our seal fills up the chasm. 

If our limits‘allowed us, we could show that many 
other points of history are elucidated’ by this seai, which 
the workman who discovered it thought to be an old 
halfpenny *. 

* The cast from which the above engraving is taken was made 
by a very ingenious artist, Mr. Doubleday, 32, Little Museum Street, 
who has formed the largest, the best, and the cheapest collection of 
casts from ancient seals, coms, &c. in the kingdom. 





*,* The Oifice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoin’s-Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 


a ee 


’ Printed by-Winram Ciowes, Stamford Street. 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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114 


THE JUPITER OF PHIDIAS. 

Dunrina the administration of Pericles (s.c. 445), the 
genius of Phidias, the greatest sculptor of antiquity, 
conceived the daring idea of constructing statues of the 
gods of Greece which should unite the opposite qualities 
of colossal dimensions, and materials of comparative 
minuteness of parts. The sculpture of Greece had been 
eradually developing itself, through several ages, from 
the primitive use of the commonest woods as a material, 
to the employment of those of a rarer growth, such as 
ebony and cedar,—in clay, in marble, in metals (and 
those occasionally of the most precious kinds),—till it 
at leneth reached, according to the taste of antiquity, 
the highest point of perfection, in the combination, upon 
a great scale, of ivory and gold. Independently, in- 
deed, of the delicate texture of ivory, its pleasing colour, 
and its capacity for the highest polish, there was some- 
thing wonderfully stimulating to the imagination to con- 
sider that the colossal objects of the popular worship, 
which in their forms alone might well command the 
most profound reverence,—uniting, as they did, all the 
characteristics of the lovely, the majestic, and the terrible, 
in the idea of a superior intelligence—that even a single 
one of these great works of art had required for its 
completion the slaughter of hundreds of mighty beasts 
in distant regions. 

The author who has left us the most interesting de- 
tails of the state of art amongst the Greeks is Pausamias, 
who published his description of Greece at Rome, during 
the reigns of the Antonines. In his notices of the re- 
markable objects which existed in the Grecian cities, we 
are especially struck with his accounts‘of those prodi- 
cious monuments of sculpture in ivory, of which no spe- 
cimen has been preserved to us, and which even appear 
to be repugnant to our notions of the beautiful in art. 
The remains of ancient statuary in marble and bronze 
can give us no definite idea of this species of sculpture. 
We perceive that the most precious substances had been 
laid under contribution to form these statues; and that 
the highest genius, calling to its assistance a mechanical 
dexterity, whose persevering contest with difficulties is 
alone matter of wonder, had rendered them worthy to 
be regarded as the perfect idea of the gods, whose indi- 
vidual temples they more than adorned. ‘These extraor- 
dinary representations, there can be no doubt, were the 
glories of the sanctuaries of Athens, of Argos, of Epi- 
daurus, and of Olympia; and were especially suited, by 
the grandeur of their dimensions, the beauty and rarity 
of their materials, the perfection of their workmanship, 
and the ideal truth of their forms, to advance the in- 
fluence of a religion which appealed to the senses to 
compel that belief which the reason might withhold. 
We shall select a few passages from Pausanias and other 
writers, to justify this account of the peculiar excellence 
of the colossal statuary of ivory and gold. We begin 
with that of the Jupiter at Olympia, generally described 
as the master-piece of Phidias. 

“The god,” says Pausanias, “ made of gold and 
ivory, is seated upon a throne. On his head is a crown 
representing an olive-branch. In his right hand he 
carries a Victory, also of gold and ivory, holding a 
wreath, and having a crown upon her head. In the left 
hand of the god is a sceptre shining with all sorts of 
metals. The bird placed on the summit of the sceptre 
is an eagle. The sandals of the god are of gold, and his 
mantle is also golden. ‘The figures of various animals, 
and of all sorts of flowers, particularly lilies, are painted 
upon it. The throne is a diversified assemblage of gold, 
of precious stones, of ivory, and of ebony; in which 
figures of all kinds are also painted or sculptured.” 

The Greek traveller then proceeds to describe, at con- 
siderable length, the accessories of the statue and the 
throne, such as the ornaments in bas-relief and the base ; 
but he does not furnish us with the dimensions of this 
great work, ‘Ihe omission is supplied by Strabo, in a 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Marcu BO 


manner which is sufficiently striking. ‘ Phidias,” he 
says, “had made his Jupiter sitting, and touching almost 
the summit of the roof of the temple; so that it ap- 
peared that if the god had risen up he would have lifted 
off the roof.” The height of the interior of the temple 
was about sixty English feet. 

The description of Pausanias, inadequate as it is to 
give a precise idea of the splendour of this great work of 
art, which commanded the wonder and admiration of 
antiquity, is sufficient to show us that the effect produced 
by the combinations of various materials, in a great 
variety of colour and ornament, was essentially different 
from that of the sculpture of marble. ‘The object of the 
artist was doubtless, in a great degree, to produce an 
illusion approaching much nearer to reality than the 
cold severity of sculptured stone. It resulted from the 
spirit of paganism, that every device of art should be 
employed to encourage the belief of the real presence of 
the god in his temple. The votaries indeed knew that 
the statues of the divinities were the work of human 
hands; and there was no desire to impose upon the 
popular credulity in this respect—for the statue of the 
Olympian Jupiter bore an inscription that it was made by 
Phidias. But, after every effort of genius nad been 
exerted to produce the most overpowering effect upon the 
imagination, by an unequalled combination of beauty 
and splendour, the devices of the priests, or the natura! 
tendency of the votaries to superstition, invented some 
lewends which should give the work supernatural claims 
to the popular reverence. “'The skill of Phidias received,” 
says Pausanias, “the testimony of Jupiter himself. The 
work being finished, the artist prayed the god that he 
would make known if he was satisfied, and immediately 
the pavement of the temple was struck with lightning, 
at the spot where in my time stands a vase of bronze.” 
But the grandeur of the workmanship was most relied 
upon to blend in the mind the intellectual idea and the 
material image of the divinity. “Those who go to the 
temple,” says Lucian, ‘‘ imagine that they see, not the 
gold extracted from the mines of Thessaly, or the ivory 
of the Indies, but the son himself of Saturn and Rhea, 
that Phidias had caused to descend from heaven.” 
We have the record of Livy that the effect which this 
wonderful statue produced upon the mind was not 
limited to the superstition of the multitude. ‘‘ Paulus 
/Emilius,” says the historian, “ looking upon the Olym- 
pian Jupiter, was moved in his mind as if the god was 
present.’ Up to the time of Antoninus, the reputation 
of this great work still drew a wondering crowd to Khis ; 
for Arrian mentions that the chef-d’couvre of art was 
such an object of curiosity that it was held as a calamity 
to die without having seen it. 

The age immediately preceding that of Phidias had 
raised up edifices which awaited their final ornament 
from the hand of so daring a genius. ‘The tyrannical 
coverninent of Athens, at the period of the fiftieth 
Olympiad, had employed itself, as is the usage of des- 
potism, in the execution of great: architectural works. 
The Temple of the Olympic Jupiter, in that city, com- 
inenced by Pisistratus, was upon so vast a scale that it 
required the resources of eight centuries for its com- 
pletion. _ But the invasion of the Persians gave a more 
powerful impulse to the inind of Greece, to recon- 
struct the monuments which their great enemy had 


destroyed, than even the subtle policy of the tyrants of 


the preceding generation. The spoils of triumph en- 
abled them to erect monuments in honour of their gods, 
which should be at the same time trophies of their vic- 
tories: Within a very few years, were built the temples 
of Minerva at Athens, of Ceres at Kleusis, of Jupiter at 
Olympia, of Juno at Argos, and.of Apollo Epicurius at 
Phigalia. At certain periods of society extraordinary 
impulses are given to the mind of nations, to produce 
ereat monumeits of art; and thus we see that-Greece 


in little more than half a century covered her land with 


1833.] 


temples. In a similar manner many of the Gothic 
cathedrals of modern Europe were built at one and the 
same period. A new career of splendour was opened 
to Phidias by the magnificence of Pericles. ‘The ancient 
temples had statues of gold and ivory; but they were 
not colossal. It was for him to create those gigantic 
mouuments which should cause the shrine to appear too 
small for the divinity, and thus bring the idea of the 
infinite and finite into a contrast too powerful for the 
senses to withhold their homage. 

The peculiar merit of this idea of Phidias did not 
consist in his mere adoption of the colossal form, but 
in his employment of a minute material to produce in 
combination the effect of a vast solid surface. The idea 
or colossal statuary doubtless belongs to the infancy of 
art. We find the gods of the Hindoo mythology of 
about three times the height of ordinary men, in the 
caves of EKlephanta; and M. Deguignes saw images thirty 
feet high in a pagoda of China. The Greeks probably 
received the taste for the colossal from the Egyptians. 

M. Quatremére de Quincy, a living French writer 
who has written several important works on subjects 
of art, has devoted a large folio to the history of the 
ancient sculpture in ivory. <A portion of this book is 
devoted to a demonstration of the mechanical proceedings 
in the construction of statues of ivory, or of ivory and 
gold. ‘These details are exceedingly interesting, both to 
the artist and to the mechanic. His theory is founded 
upon a consideration of the form of the elephant’s tusk, 
partly hollow and partly solid,—upon the assumption that 
the ancients were able to obtain tusks of larger dimensions 
than those ordinarily seen at the present day,—that an 
art existed of rendering the cylindrical part of the tusk flat 
when cut through longitudinally,—and that plates might 
thus be procured from six to twenty-four inches wide. 
He then conceives that a block of wood having been 
fashioned as a sort of core for the ivory, the individual 


__ plates were fixed upon it, having been cut and polished 


in exact resemblance to the corresponding portions of a 
model previously executed. The following woodcuts 
exhibit (1) the clay model, (2) the separate pieces of 
ivory for a bust, and (3) the block with a portion of the 
ivory plated on it, 





(2) 
For fuller details of this subject generally, see the 


volume on the Elephant, in the ‘ Library of Entertaining 
Knowledge.’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


STATISTICAL NOTES—(Continued), 


THE CORN TRADE. 


(41.) Tue importation of corn isa subject which must 
be considered with peculiar reference to the laws by 
which such importation is governed. The present corn 
law (the 9 Geo. IV. cap. 60) came into Operation in 
1828, and imposes a duty fluctuating according’ to the 
average price in this country. The scale of this duty 
may be judged of by quoting the following extracts from 
the scale for wheat :— 

Per Quarter. 


When the average price is not under Gls. and } 
under 62s. per quarter, the duty is . . . 41 & 
When 62s. and under 63s. » . 2. s « 1 4 8 
9 69s. ” 70s. @ ® e * 8 e a 0 i 8 
9 7\s. ” 725s, 6 ® é & 8 3 8 0 6 8 
> ie + aera’ a ft a rou 2's 
At orabove 73s. rao Very 4) gers’ @ DO 


This law is a modification of a more prohibitory system 
which had been acted upon for some years, but it pre- 
serves the principle of the fluctuating scale of duties. 
Since it came into operation on the 15th July, 1828, up 
to the 30th of June, 1831, there have been imported in 
those three years 7,263,184 quarters of corn of every de- 
scription, being an average of 2,421,061 quarters a year, 
and the total amount of duty collected upon corn in such 
three years was £2,096,951. The total quantity of foreign 
wheat imported in the same period was 4,620,029 quar- 
ters, being an average of 1,540,009 quarters a year, and 
the three years’ duty amounted to £1,389,290, being 
after the rate of 6s. 1d. per quarter as the mean duty. 
The annual consumption of corn in the United Kingdom, 
including what is used for seed, has been estimated as 
follows ;-— 
Wheat. 


rs. 


Year, . « 12,000,000 . 


Other Grain. Total. 


7 Qrs. 
« 40,000,000 . . . 52,000,000 


Month . p J;000,000 . . i} 89933,333 . 4 6 4,333,333 
weece te, 290,000 . .» 833,833 5, . 1,083,333 
Day . «+ GOT E, & sous 219,045. .... 16H7 62 


(42.) It appears that upon an average of the last 
three years the quantity of corn imported has been less 
than two million quarters and a half. But taking the 
import of the year 1818, viz., 3,522,729 quarters, being 
the largest quantity imported in any one year, and com- 
paring it with the produce of the'kingdom, it will be 
found to amount to about the fourteenth part of it. It 
is probable, however, that about half the corn produced 
is never brought to market, but is consumed by the 
arriculturists themselves, or used for seed, &c., so that it 
may be estimated that the quantity of foreign corn in the . 
market has, at the utmost, not exceeded the seventh part 
of the British corn brought to market. ‘This, however, 
would have a material influence in alleviating scarcity in 
a bad year, and checking the rise of prices. It has 
been doubted, however, whether these objects are at- 
tained under a fluctuating system of duties; and a fixed 
duty of 6s. to 7s. the quarter has been thought by some 
preferable to the existing scale, and that it would be a 
sufficient protection to agriculture. 

(43.) Although the interests of agriculture are entitled 
to consideration, it must not be forgotten that whatever 
rise of the price of the corn consumed over that which it 
would otherwise cost is caused by the system of duties, 
is equivalent to a tax on the consumer to that amount. 
Now, every shilling duty upon the 52,000,000 quarters 
consumed is equivalent to a tax of £2,600,000; and 


| estimating the average rise on all sorts of grain at 7s. 


per quarter, the total would be £18,200,000; and sup- 
posing one half to be consumed by the agriculturists, 
then the amount would be £9,100,000. Upon the corn 
laws in general it may suffice to remark that in all politi- 
cal measures, where tliere are conflicting interests, it is 
necessary Often that each should give and take some- 


| thing for the general good of the whole; and if on 


Q 2 


L16 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Marcu 30, 
turists for them to endeavour to separate their particular 
interest from the general good. 


{To be continued. } 


the one hand it is unfair in the consumer to object to 
the reasonable protection of the British agriculturist, it 
would, on the other, be no less censurable in the agricul- 





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pe A L, i} 
y 
q ‘ , 
if 
Wp 


Me . 


at my ta LTTE 
g ca HEU, : Fa 


“) 
- a 
Fe a TD AD re 
nw Sp 


Over the arid and thirsty deserts of Asia and Africa, 
the camel affords to man: the only means of intercourse 
between one country and another. The camel has 
been created with an especial adaptation to the regions 
wherein it has contributed to the comfort, and even 
to the very existence, of man, from the earliest ages. 
It is constituted to endure the severest hardships 
with little physical inconvenience. Its feet are formed 
to tread lightly upon a dry and shifting soil; its nostrils 
have the capacity of closing, so as to shut out the 
driving sand, when the whirlwind scatters it over the 
desert; it is provided with a peculiar apparatus for re- 
taining water in its stomach, so that it can march from 
well to well without great inconvenience, although they 
be several huadred miles apart. And thus, when a 
company of eastern merchants cross from Aleppo to 
Bussora, over a plain of sand which offers no refresh- 
inent to the exhausted senses, the whole journey being 
about eight hundred miles, the camel of the heavy caravan 
moves cheerfully along, with a burden of six or seven 
hundred weight, at the rate of twenty miles a day; 
while those of greater speed, that carry a man, without 
much other load, go forward at double that pace and 
daily distance. Patient under his duties, he kneels down 
at the command of his driver, and rises up. cheerfully 
with nis load; he requires no whip or spur during his 
monotonous march; but, like many other animals, he 
feels an evident pleasure in musical sounds; and there- 
fore, when fatigue comes upon him, the driver sings 
some cheering snatch of his Arabian melodies, and the 


_ Ue 1M, . x 
RAY Pato YEAS 
al my ate . 
wit MA + 
a 2 . 
SS PASS \' i NRA Ns \ 
- 


"14 





. * oe LAO. = = 
r) = a bi C3 s = 
= ae 
* . a 
“a = ~~. ae 
a . ———# * 
vw; 


Ss TS 
= fe . infest ¢ “ts 
Pile Ay = ear, 
& } a Fa =, ail 
fi aa / Z uty 
toy Ve ' Tht y) 
! | | : 
! r = 
i ; >P 
: x 


SG 45-054 
pt ad PON ee 
Sa 


Bea NY Sih 
SS eal gE ; 
WA ip 


Ninel = 
g | | A V L pif Hy) tp. yy " = 
Wi Vhihy al - . = 
=== | ZY 75 ee 
\ ee LLY ee a 


ih HS) = wana an en 


ee 


ae 


spi" “i Sg 
phy ath 

i we a 
i ar 


Veg 
i 


f Pe 
a LD 


ES yF 
Ne A etatay, 


[The Arabian Camel.} 


delighted creature toils forward with a brisker step, till 
the hour of rest arrives, when he again kneels down, to 
have his load removed for a little while; and if the stock 
of food be not exhausted, he is further rewarded with a 
few mouthfuls of the cake of barley, which he carries for 
the sustenance of his master and himself. Under a burn- 
ing sun, upon an arid soil, enduring great faticue, some- 
times entirely without food for days, and seldom com- 
pletely slaking his thirst more than once during a pro- 
gress of several hundred miles, the camel is patient, and 
apparently happy. He ordinarily lives to a great age, 
and is seldom visited by any disease. 

Camels are of two species. ‘That with one hump, 
which is represented with his ordinary pack-saddle in 
the wood-cut, is the Arabian camel, and is usually called 
the dromedary. ‘The species with two humps is the 
Bactrian camel. The Asiatics and Africans distinguish 
as dromedaries those camels which are used for riding. 
There is no essential difference in the speeies, but only 
in the breed. The carnel of the heavy caravan, the 
baggage camel, may be compared to the dray-horse ; 
the dromedary to the hunter, and, in some instances, 
to the race-horse. Messengers on dromedaries, ac- 
cording to Burckhardt, have gone from Daraou to 
Berber in eight days, while he was twenty-two days 
with the caravan on the same journey. Mr. Jackson, 
in his account of the Empire of Morocco, tells a ro- 
mantic story of a swift dromedary, whose natural pace 


was accelerated in an extraordinary manner by the en- 


thusiasm of his rider: “ Talking with an Arab of Suse, 


1833.] 


on the subject of these fleet camels, and the desert horse, 
he assured me that he knew a young man who was pas- 
sionately fond of a lovely girl, whom nothing would 
satisfy but some oranges ; these were not to be procured 
at Mogadore, and, as the lady wanted the best fruit, 
nothing less than Marocco oranges would satisfy her. 
The Arab mounted his heirie at dawn of day, went to 
Marocco (about one hundred miles from Mogadore), pur- 
chased the oranges, and returned that night after the 
cates were shut, but sent the oranges to the lady by a 
cuard of one of the batteries.” | 

The training of the camels to bear burthens, in the 
countries of the East, has not been: minutely described 
by any traveller. M. Brue, who, at the latter part of 
the seventeenth century, had the management of the 
affairs of a French commercial company at Senegal, says, 
‘soon after a camel is born, the Moors tie his feet under 
his belly, and having thrown a large cloth over his back, 
put heavy stones at each corner of the cloth, which rests 
on the ground. ‘They in this manner accustom him to 
receive the heaviest loads.” Both ancient and modern 
authors agree tolerably well in their accounts of the load 
which a camel can carry. - Sandys, in his Travels in the 
Holy Land, says, “six hundred weight is his ordinary 
load, yet will he carry a thousand.” ‘The caravans are 
distinguished as light or heavy, according to the load 
which the camels bear. The average load of the heavy, 
or slow-going camel, as stated by Major Rennell, who 
investigated their rate of travelling with great accuracy, 
is from 500 to 600lbs. Burckhardt says, that ‘his 
luggage and provisions weighing only 2 cwt., and his 
camel being capable of carrying 6cwt., he sold him, 
contracting for the transport of his luggage across the 
desert. ‘lhe camel sometimes carries large panniers, 
filled with heavy woods; sometimes bales are strapped on 
his back, fastened either with cordage made of the palm- 
tree, or leathern thongs; and sometimes two, or more, 
will bear a sort of litter, in which women and children 
ride with considerable ease. 

The expense of maintaining these valuable creatures 
is remarkably little: a cake of barley, a few dates, a 
handful of beans, will suffice, in addition to the hard and 
prickly shrubs which they find in every district but the 
very wildest of the desert. They are particularly fond of 
those vegetable productions which other animals would 
never touch, such as plants which are like spears and 
daggers, in comparison with the needles of the thistle, and 
which often pierce the incautious traveller’s boot. He 
might wish such thorns eradicated from the earth, if he did 
not behold the camel contentedly browsing upon them ; for 
he thus learns that Providence has made nothing in vain. 
Their teeth are peculiarly adapted for sucha diet. Differ- 
ing from all other ruminating tribes, they have two strong 
cutting teeth in the upper jaw; and of the six grinding 
treth, one on each side, in the same jaw, has a crooked 
form: their canine teeth, of which they have two in each 
jaw, are very strong; and in the lower jaw the two ‘ex- 
ternal cutting teeth have a pointed form, and the fore- 
most of the grinders is also pointed and crooked. They 
are thus provided with a most formidable apparatus for 
cutting and tearing the hardest vegetable substance. 
But the camel is, at the same time, organized so as to 
graze upon the finest herbage, and browse upon the 
most delicate leaves ; for his upper lip being divided, he 
is enabled to nip off the tender shoots, and turn them 
into his mouth with the greatest facility. Whether the 
sustenance, therefore, which he finds, be of the coarsest 
or the softest kind, he is equally prepared to be satisfied 
with and to enjoy it. 





ZESCHINES. 
To convey to a person unacquainted with the Greek 


language any accurate idea of the style of the great, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


117 


writers of Athens, is perhaps not an easy task; and 
certainly it is an undertakine that has seldom been 
successfully accomplished. The chief difficulty appears 
to be, that the reader cannot so far remove all his present 
associations as to transport himself into a new set of 
circumstances, and to figure to himself the social life 
and modes of thought that prevailed in a nation which 
existed more than two thousand years ago. If it js 
often difficult for an Englishman to comprehend the 


thoughts and expressions of foreien writers of his own 


time, as undoubtedly it often is, how much must the 
difficulty be increased when he endeavours to understand 
a writer of a remote age, living under a political and 
religious system entirely different from any thing existing 
at the present day? And if to this we add, that all 
the common books which treat of matters of antiquity 
only convey false impressions, it is no wonder if we see 
these untrue pictures reflected and even magnified on 
every occasion when they are pressed into service by the 
political speaker or the political writer. - 

Another defect in translation is the preference of fine 

words and rounded sentences to simple and unpretending 
language. It may be safely laid down as a general rule 
in translating from one language into another, that, if 
ever we desert simplicity of expression, we run the risk 
of impairing or altering the meaning of the original. 
_ In the following specimen, taken from the opening of 
an oration of A%schines, we have attempted nothing 
more than to express in the plainest English the 
meaning of the speaker ; and it will only require a few 
words of previous explanation to render the whole in- 
tellioible to any person. The skill of a practised speaker 
and writer (for we must bear in mind that these speeches 
were nearly always written before they were pronounced, ) 
will easily be recognized in this opening address of 
/Eischines. 

Demosthenes and Aéschines had formed part of a 
commission sent to treat with Philip of Macedon, the 
father of Alexander the Great, about the terms of a 
peace, After their return from the second embassy 
Demosthenes instituted a prosecution against ASschines 
for malversation in the mission, and for bribery and 
corruption. He sold the interests of his native city, as 
Demosthenes alleges, for Philip’s gold. The speech of 
Demosthenes, which still remains, though perhaps not 
one of the best specimens of his skill, is still a highly 
laboured production, abounding in ingenious sophistry, 
and seasoned with that high tone of personal abuse and 
invective in which he was so accomplished a master. 
/Eschines replied with no less art and ingenuity, and, 
as the story woes, escaped a conviction. It should be 
recollected that the accused had, according to general 
usage at Athens, to address a very numerous jury, whose 
vote was given by ballot, and whose opinion was de- 
cided by that of the majority. 

“I pray you, Athenians, to listen to me with favour, 
considering the magnitude of my danger, and the 
variety of charges to which I must reply ; considering, 
too, the arts and intrieues of my accuser, and his un- 
feeling temper. For he has been bold enough to tell 
you not to listen to the accused; you, who are bound 
by oath to give both parties a fair hearing. And it was 
not in the heat of passion that he said this, for no man 
when heis lying can feel anger against tlhe person whom 
he is falsely accusing. Nor yet do those who speak the 
truth ever try to hinder the accused from making’ his 
defence; for we know that an accusation prevails nct 
with those who are to judge till the accused has made 
his defence, and shown himself unable to answer the 
charge. But Demosthenes, I know, is not fond of fair 
discussion, nor does it form any part of his present policy : 
his design has been to rouse your passions, and therefore 
has he ventured to accuse me of corruption, he who can 
have no great weight in sustaining such a charge. When 


iis 


aman tries to move your indignation arainst corruption, 


it is essential that he should be altogether free from the 
imputation himself. 

‘“ Never before has it been my lot to feel such alarm, 
to be moved with such indignation, nor yet to enjoy such 
unbounded satisfaction, as on the present day, while I 
have been listening to the speech of Demosthenes. I felt 
alarm, and indeed I do still feel apprehension, that some 
of you will hardly know me after being spell-bound 
and deceived by the insidious and malicious contrasts i 
which he has placed all my actions: I was almost 
beside myself with indignation, when I heard him accuse 
me of drunken brutal violence to a free woman of 
Olynthus: but I was delighted to see you stop him 
short in the midst of his abuse; and this I feel to bea 
full reward for my sober and blameless life. 

“For this you deserve my thanks; and I am most 
especially pleased that you choose to judge of a man 
rather according to the whole tenor of his life, than from 
the charges of a malicious enemy. But still I shall not 
decline answering the imputation. If there is a single 
man im all the crowd around us—and IJ think we have 
pretty nearly all the citizens present—or if there is one 
individual of the jury ready to believe that I ever did so 
shameful a thing, were it even to a slave, I should not 
think my life worth preserving. And further, if I do not 
in the course of my defence prove the charge to be entirely 
false, and the mau who has had the impudence to make 
it an unprincipled and malicious accuser, and if I do not 
acquit myself of blame in every other matter, let my 
sentence be—death. And, concerning the rest of the 
charges, I entreat you, my judges, if I pass over any 
thing and do not notice it,—question me and let me 
know what you wish to hear from me; not prejudging 
me, but listening fairly to both parties. And indeed I 
Lardly know where to begin my defence, so irregular is 
the charge brought against me. And I bee you just to 
cousider if I am put in a fair position. ‘The man whose 
life is now at stake is myself: but the chief weight of 
the accusation is against Philocrates, Phryno, and the 
rest of the ambassadors, and against King Philip, and 
against the terms of the peace, and against the policy of 
Fiubulus: and £ am brought in on all these occasions. 
Demosthenes, it seems, according to his own account, 
is the only man who looks after the true interests of the 
state—all the rest are traitors. 

“In replying to such impudence and marvellous 
Kknavery, it is difficult to recollect all the particulars of 
an accusation, and difficult too, when a man’s life is 
at stake, to disprove such unexpected calumnies. But 
in order that my statement may be as clear as possible, 
and perfectly intelligible and fair, I will begin with the 
discussions about the peace, and the nomination of the 
ainbassadors. Following this plan I shall be best able 
to recollect and to state the facts, and you will be best 
enabled to understand thein.” 





ALBERT DURER. 


Axusert Durer, who was born at Nuremberg on the 
20th of May, 1471, and died at the same place on the 
Gth of April, 1528, was equally eminent as a painter and 
as an engraver, and decidedly surpassed all his country- 
men in both capacities during the age in which he 
flourished. In the history of early eneraving, indeed, 
there is scarcely perhaps a greater name than his; and 
we shall take the opportunity of giving in connexion with 
it a short notice respecting that art. 

Some writers are fond of carrying the origin of en- 
graving to a very high antiquity, by quoting as examples 
of the practice of the art such earvines in wood or 
metal, or stone, as have been found in various decrees of 
excellence among almost all nations,—among our own 
Saxon and even British ancestors, as well as among the 


“THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{| inducement to make it. 


[Marcu 30, 


Eeyptians, Greeks, and Romans. But this is to confound 
two things which are entirely distinct. Such works as 
those alluded to are specimens of sculpture, not orf 
what we now call engraving. ‘Lhe modern art known 
by that name applies to the production of a print, or 
rather of a number of prints, from a design cut in wood 
or metal. The mere cutting out both of letters and of 
figures in a hard substance has been practised from the 
earliest ages; the art of obtaining letters and figures so 
cut out from copies or impressions by means of a colour- 
ing’ matter spread over them, and thence transferred to 
some other substance, is, mm Europe at least, altogether 
a modern invention. The ancients were, indeed, accus- 
tomed to produce impressions by means of stamps in a 
variety of cases ; they struck coins, they made seals in wax, 
they even marked the weight and quality on their loaves 
of bread with a stamp. On the other hand, they applied 
a coloured liquid to make marks, both in their painting, 
with a brush or pencil, and in writing, with a reed or 
other species of pen. What they did not do was just to 
use the two methods at once,—to take the impression from 
the stamp, not by making it enter into the substance of 
the material on which it was pressed, but only by making 
it communicate to that material a fluid colour. The 
principal cause undoubtedly which prevented the ancients, 
after advancing so far as they did, from discovering the 
art of printing, was the want of any general demand for 
books. A high price, it is true, was paid for books, and 
must have been paid, by the few who did buy them ; 
the Jabour necessary for the copying of a manuscript 
was great, and a book therefore could not be obtained for 
asmallsum. If there be anarticle which from its nature 
cannot be expected to ensure more than a very limited 
demand, let it be produced at what price it may, it is 
evident that in the case of that article the usual incentives 
are in great part wanting which excite the ingenuity of 
the manufacturer to endeavour, as in all other cases, to 
find out the cheapest way of producing it. Now, in 
Greece and Rome, and also throughout the middle ages, 
this appears to have been nearly the case with books. 
Very large prices were obtained for manuscripts upon 
which much labour had been bestowed ; but the number 
of purchasers was extremely limited: and from the state 
of the general population 1t was seareely to be expected 
that a reduction of price would ensure any considerable 
exteusion of the market. 

It was the general demand for the Bible, or rather 
perhaps for religious manuals of various descriptions, 
which first altered this state of things; and, to that 
cause therefore we owe the art of printing, whether as 
regards printing from moveable types, or from blocks of 
wood, or from metal plates. ‘The step from what had 
been already done to the completion of this great 
invention was so immediate and easy, that we seem to 
be quite warranted in accounting for its not having been 
made sooner, simply from the absence of any strong 
There was no one book of which 
more than a few dozen copies were actually sold, or 
could reasonably be expected to be sold, at any such 
moderate reduction of price as the application of more 
ingenuity to the manufacture was likely to allow; such 
application therefore was not thought of. But when, 
in the early part of the fifteenth century, after the several 
nations of Europe had settled down, and as it were 
ripened into something like social organization, and the 
revival of classical learning had spread abroad over the 
community a much more general scholarship than betore 
existed, the demand grew up not merely among the 
clergy, but to a great extent among the laity also for the 
Latin Scriptures, and other devotional works. A. state 
of things then for the first time presented itself, in which 
it might be consideréd certain, that a reduction of price 
would bring with it a large extension of the market. 
In the case of one class of books, at least, this was sure 


1833.] 


to follow ; and religious books accordingly were the first 


to which the new art was applied. 

The art of printing would probably of itself have 
speedily led to that of engraving; but in point of fact, 
it would rather appear that the latter had a distinct 
origin of its own. As the general demand for the Bible 
prompted the one invention, so a general demand of a 
very different kind, that, namely, for playing-cards, seems 
to have previously suggested the first idea and application 
of the other. Playing-cards were certainly known in 
Germany before the year 1376. It is probable that they 
were at first painted individually by the hand, as books 
were written; and the more expensive sorts may have 
long continued to be prepared in this way. But it appears 
certain, that the makers at length began to stamp them 
from blocks, probably of wood, when they had come into 
@eneral use. Here, then, was what we now call wood- 
engraving invented and put in practice. In this process, 
as iu letter-press printing, the mark is made upon the 
paper by the raised parts of the stamp, or rather by those 
which are not cut away; the scooped-out parts receiving 
no ink, and of course transmitting none to the paper. The 
method of printing from a wood-cut, therefore, is exactly 
the same with that of printing from ordinary types; and 
the two can be accordingly combined in the same page. 
Wood-cuts were introduced into books very soon after 
the invention of printing. The process of copper-plate 
printing proceeds upon a different principle. In the 
copper, the parts which are to receive the ink and make 
the impression are cut out, either in lines or dots, and the 
surface of the metal which remains raised leaves no 
mark. ‘Yo prevent it therefore from retaining any ink, 
this surface has to be carefully rubbed dry after every 
impression, and only the ink which is in ‘the hollows ‘of 
the plate allowed to remain. This makes copper-plate 
printing an exceedingly tedious operation, and also one 
which cannot be combined with that of letter-press. These 
repeated rubbings, too, very soon wear out the plate ; 
but this last disadvantage has of late years been com- 
pletely obviated by the substitution of steel for copper, 
in every department of metallic engraving where large 
numbers of impressions are required. When in steel or 
copper engraving, the dark parts of the picture are cut out 
in lines, the process is called line-engraving ; wien in 
dots, it is called dot-engraving, or stippling. In both, the 
shades are made lighter or deeper by the lines or dots 
being kept more or less apart. Frequently, however, 
these marks are not made by a cutting-tool, but by the 
method called etching, which consists in the application 
of aqua-fortis, or some other acid, to bite into the metal. 
In nearly all plates etching is the first step in the process. 
The surface of the plate is spread over with a composition 
or varnish which is not affected’ by the action of the acid; 
to this the design intended to be engraved is transferred, 
either by being drawn upon it (in reverse of course) with 
the hand, or by its outlines, traced with a black lead pencil, 
being at once impressed upon the composition by passing 
it through the rolling-press. The varnish, or ground, 
as it 1s called, is then carefully cut away down to the 
copper, wherever it is thus marked. After this the aqua- 
fortis is poured over the whole, and kept standing upon 
it by a rim of wax erected around the plate, until it is 
considered to have eaten deep enough into the copper at 
those places from which the varnish has been removed. 
he lines thns formed, however, frequently receive a 
finishing touch from the graver; and one part of a plate 
is often wholly cut by the graver, while another pant 
not requiring the same delicacy of touch is done by the 
easier method of etching. Albert Durer has been usually 
Stated to have been the inventor of etching; and he was 
undoubtedly the person by whom it was first brought to 
any degree of perfection. Lastly, there is the process, 
cominonly called among us mezzotinto-engraving (that 
is, half-painting, from the effect it produces being con- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


119 


ceived to resemble that of colours 
the black manner, or sometimes the Enolish manner 
Its invention has been ascribed to Prince Rupert: but 
it was practised by others before him, and it in wow 
generally allowed that we are indebted for it to a German 
military officer, of the name cf Siegen, or Sichem. The 
whole surface of the plate is first made rough and raised 
up by being, as it were, repeatedly harrowed in various 
directions by an instrument called the erounding-tool, 
adapted to that purpose. All that has then to be done is 
to bruise down and smooth with the burnisher those 
places which are to represent the bright or less shaded 
parts of the design, the smoothing being made partial or 
complete according as more or less shade is necessary. 


), but by foreigners 





COCOA. 


IN consequence of a diminution in the duty on cocoa, 
a very nutritious aud cheap article of food is now placed 
within the reach of almost all classes of persons, and a 
short account of it may be acceptable to our readers. 

The cocoa, or cacao, is known to botanists under the 
name of Theobroma cacao, Linnzus having given it the 
first appellation to designate its excellent qualities, Theo- 
broma, signifying “food fora god.” Thesame naturalist 
placed it in the class Monadelphia decandria (i.e. havine 
ten stamens, united into a tube round the pistil) ; but 
later authors refer it to the natural family of the Mal- 
vace@ (mallows), most of the genera of which are hiehly 
useful to man. 

Lhe cacao is a native of South America, where it was 
not only used for food, but the seeds served as money. 
ihe tree is not unlike that of the cherry in form, and 
seldom exceeds twenty feet in heicht. ‘The leaves are 
oblong, and pointed at the end, and when young are 
of a pale red. The flowers, which generally spring 
from the wood of the large branches of the tree, are 
small, and of a light red colour, mixed with yellow; 
the pods which succeed them are oval, and are ereen 
when young, but as they ripen they become yellow or 
red. They are filled with a sweet, white pulp, which 
surrounds the many seeds contained in each of the five 
cells, or divisions. When travelling, the native Indians 
eat this pulp, and find it very refreshing. ‘The seeds 
are steeped in water previous to their being sown, and 
lose the power of reproduction in a few days after they 
are taken from the pod. As the plant grows up, the 
shade of the coral-tree is considered so essential, that it 
is called by the Spaniards the Madre del cacao, or mother 
of the cocoa. When this tree is covered with its bright 
scarlet blossoms it presents a splendid appearance. 

It appears that there are two varieties of the cocoa in 
Trinidad, to which colony, and that of Grenada, the 
Kinglish plantations are now chiefly confined; the one 
variety 1s called the Creole cocoa, which is by far the 
best, but not so productive as the other sort, which has 
nearly superseded it, and bears the name of Forastero, 
or foreien. ‘The former suits the Spanish market best, 
the latter having a somewhat bitter taste. The Creole 
begins to bear after about five years’ erowth, but does 
not reach perfection till the eighth year; it, however, 
ytelds good fruit for twenty years. ‘Lhe l’orastero pro- 
duces fruit at three years, and botl, probably, come 
from the Spanish Main. It was formerly the practice 
in Trinidad to grant manumission to every slave who 
could at any time deliver up to his master one thousand 
cocoa-trees, planted by himself, in a space expressly 
allotted to them, in a state of bearing. Many instances 
of freedom obtained in this way might be cited, as the 
cultivation of them at any time did not infringe too 
much upon the daily tasks, aud where nature had already 
provided shade and moisture, was comparatively trifling. 
In Grenada the plantations are beautifully situated 
among the mountains, and the labourers can work at 


120 


all hours in the shade; but the cocoa walks are now 
chiefly cultivated by free coloured people, most of whom 
are settlers from the Spanish Main. 





[ Leaf, flower, and fruit of the Cacao, with a pod opened.] 


The seeds of the cocoa-tree are gathered twice every 
year, but the largest crop is yielded in the month of 
December ; the other is ready in June. “ When picked, 
and extracted from the pods, they are placed in. heaps, 
on platforms of clay, where they are suffered to ferment 
for forty-eight hours or more ; they are then dried in the 
sun, exactly imitating the process used with coffee. 
When required for use, they are roasted till the husks 
may be readily taken off; and if to be converted into 
chocolate, they are bruised and worked with the hand 
into a paste, which is afterwards made still finer by a 
smooth iron. This is afterwards flavoured with various 
ingredients, the principal of which are cinnamon and 
vanilla; the latter is a climbing plant, indigenous to 
‘Trinidad, and bears long slender pods. A great con- 
sumption of chocolate takes place in Spain, where it is 
considered as a uecessary of life. In France it is also 
much used, and is fashioned into an endless variety of 
forms. 

When the seeds are to be made into cocoa they are 
ground to a fine powder. The husks, boiled in milk, 
make a thin and delicious beverage, and are in great 
request in France, for delicate persons who find the paste 
or powder too rich for them. 

An excise duty on chocolate, and heavy duties on 
cocoa, have hitherto prevented any great consumption 
of these two articles in England, and the principal 
demand for the latter has hitherto been in the navy, 
each sailor's allowance being an ounce per diem, which 
affords him a pint of good liquid. The late reduction 
of duty will probably bring cocoa into more general 
use, as it is now half the price of coffee, and one-fifth 
that of tea, and certainly far more nutritious than either. 


GENERAL EDUCATION. 


In an article in the Quarterly Journal of Education; 


No. X., just published, is given the following outline of. 


a proposed course of instruction for the children of the 
poorer classes :— 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 380, 1833. 


Besides reading, wnting, and arithmetic, the following 
subjects ought to be taught ° 

Reading ought to be united with history. .The best and 
first history, of course, is that of the pupil’s native country, 
which should be written, we need hardly say, very differently 
from any book of the class yet published. A school library, 
stored with useful books, might afford inestimable advan- 
tages. And why should England see her labours for pro- 
moting knowledge and enlightening mankind, turned to a 
better account in other countries than in her own? 

To writing, i. e. calligraphy and orthography, should be 
added lessons on the general principles and nature of 
language. 

Lilementary drawing, which has been so often recom 
mended, should certainly be a part of the education of all 
classes. It might be confined to the slate, and consist in 
teaching to draw straight and curved lines, with regular 
figures, accompanied by drawings composed of these lines 
and figures ; and, finally, the pupil should draw various real 
objects. This branch of drawing proceeded from, and is 
cultivated in, Pestalozzian schools. | 

The copying of pattern drawings and objects of nature 
must be chiefly left to the taste and opportunities of every 
individual pupil. The symmetrical figures, or compositions 
expressing merely symmetry—such as architectural orna- 
ments, patterns of vessels, furniture, &c. need only be drawn 
on slates during the lesson, and may afterwards be copied at 
home into books with lead pencil, by those who show any 
taste and wish for it; and their books might occasionally be 
brought to school for the inspection of the master. There 
is little doubt that those who, after leaving school, enter 
trades may derive the greatest advantages from those lessons 
of drawing, which develope and cultivate a taste for beauty 
and symmetry of form. Such practice would, undoubtedly, 
soon have a beneficial effect on all great branches of our 
national industry, where the taste of the workman is called 
into action. 

Geography, at least that of their own country, and in the 
upper classes a general description of the globe, ought to be 
taught in all schools, with the aid of maps, &c., accompanied 
in each case with an account of the natural and manufactured 
products which characterize each country. . we 

Arithmetic is indispensable ; and some elements of 

Geometry might be given in the drawing lesson. 

Music also should be taught. The objection, that this is 
impracticable, because English boys, generally speaking, 
possess no ‘ear for music, is quite groundless ; for experience 
ina sufficient number of instances to warrant a general 
rule, has proved the contrary to be the case. . English boys 
are naturally quite as musical as German and French boys, 
and in Germany singing is taught in every school. “Music 
was generally cultivated in England at one time, and it will 
again become general, and increase content and happiness, 
when the condition of the poorer classes will allow them a 
little more comfort and rational enjoyment than they now 
possess. | <>) = ‘ 

Religious and moral instruction need not be particularly 
specified here; it is that on which the success of all other 
instruction chiefly depends. : 

By what means the general instruction of the lower 
classes can be effected to the extent here briefly pointed out, 
is a question which belongs to the government to answer, 
and we hope they will soon speak out. This much may be 
said, that in the immense resources, and in the liberality and 
charitable character of the English nation, there will be found 
sufficient means for establishing a school in every village, 
throughout England and Wales, conducted on a plan similar 
to those in Germany, and particularly in Prussia. Parents 
ought to pay a trifle to prevent their undervaluing that which 
they can have for nothing. Boys ought to be compelled to 
attend these schools regularly, at least, to their fourteenth, 
girls to their thirteenth, year. No one who knows the English 
character will doubt that, if these village schools once ob- 
tained general esteem, there would be no want of exhibitions 
and orizes, &c. to enable the boy, who showed distinguished 
abilities and a good character, to go to a grammar school, 
and if he conducted himself well, to obtain any honour and 
advantages which education can confer. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, 


LONDON :=-CHARLES KNIGHT, PALU-MALL EAST, 


Printed by Witt1am Crowss, Stamford Street, 


Monthip Supplement of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THS 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze. 








A. | February 28 to March 31, 1833. le 














THE COLOSSEUM. 





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[The Colosseum, in the Regent’s Park, London.] 


Tux above wood-cut represents a remarkable building | which in the day are crowded like some vast mart, such 
in the Regent's Park, erected somewhat more than four | as the traveller hurrying to his distant starting-place, 
years ago, chiefly for the purpose of exhibiting a pano-| or the labourer creeping to his early work—all these 
rama of London. It is called after the Colosseum of | circumstances make up a picture which forcibly impresses 
Rome; to which monument of ancient magnificence, | the imagination. Wordsworth has beautifully painted a 


however, it does not bear the slightest resemblance. portion of this extraordinary scene in one of his finest 
=I origin of this edifice is singularly curious. Mr. | sonnets:— 
orner, & meritori , i ict. « n 
should seem eritorious and indefatigable artist,- and as it  Karth has not any thing to show more fair : 
seem a man of great force of character, undertook, Dull would he be of soul who could pass by | 
at the time of the repair of the ball and cross of St. Paul’s, A sight so touching in its majesty: 
to make a series of panoramic sketches of London, from This city now doth like a. garment, wear 
that giddy elevation. T auth , , The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare, 
ye » on re yom aw Ab might peercomne the diffi- Ships, towers, domes, theatres, =i temples lie 
. or the vast city ordinarily pre: Open unto the fields, and to the sky ; 
sented, he invariably commenced his labours immediately All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 
after sun-rise, before the lighting of the innumerable fires Never did sun more beautifully steep 
which pour out their dark and sullen clouds during the | — 7 ius a pee alley 1 ams a 4 
' ° ° ‘ eer Saw hever feit, a Calm so cep. 
a+ Peale spread a mantle over this wide congregation of The river glideth at his own sweet will : 
e dwellings of men, which only midnight can remove. Dear God! the very houses seem asleep ; 
On a fine summer morning, about four o’clock, London And all that mighty heart is lying still !” 


presents an extraordinary spectacle. The brilliancy of | The freedom from interruption—the perfect loneliness in 
the atmosphere—the almost perfect stillness of the | the heart of the busiest spot on earth—eive to the con- 
alae in the neighbourhood of the great mar- | templative rambler through Yondon, at the ‘ sweet 

e 0 —_ living beings that pass along those lines | hour of prime,” a feeling almost of fancied superiority 


122 


over the thousands of his fellow-inortals whose senses 
are steeped in forgetfulness. , But how completely must 
Mr. Horner have felt this power, in his “lofty aéry *” 


Did the winds pipe ever’so loud, and rock hifr to und’ 


fro in his wicker-basket, there he sat in security, intently, 
delineating what few have seen—the whole of the splen- 
did city—its palaces and its hovels, its churehes and its 
prisons—from one extremity to the other, spread like a 
map at his feet. Gradually the sigus of life would be 
audible and visible from his solitary elevation ;—the one 
faint cry of the busy chapman swelling into a chorus of 
ardent competitors for public patronage—the distant roll 
of the solitary waggon, echoed, minute after minute, by 
the accumulstion of the same sound, till all individual 
noise was lost in the general: din—the first smoke rising 
like a spiral column into the skies, till column after 
column sent up their tribute to the approaching gloom, 
and the one dense cloud of London was at last formed, 
and the labours of the painter were at an end. These 
were the daily objects of him who, before the rook went 
forth for his morning flight, was gazing upon the most 
extensive, and certainly the most wonderful, city of the 
world, from the hiehest pinnacle of a temple which has 
only one rival in majesty and beauty. The situation 
was altogether a solemn and an inspiriting one ;—and 
might well suggest and prolong that enthusiasm which 
was necessary to the due performance of the extra- 
ordinary task which the painter had undertaken. 

What the artist who sketched this panorama saw only 
in the earliest hours of a brilliant morning, the visitor 
of the Colosseum may behold in all seasons, and all 
hours of the day. Upon the interior of the outer wall, 
which rises to a heieht of about seventy feet, is spread 
the panoramic view of London, embracing the most 
minute as well as distant objects. The spectator ascends 
a flight of steps in the centre of the building, till he 
arrives at an elevation which corresponds in size and 
situation with the external gallery which is round the 
top of the dome of St. Paul’s. Not many persons can 
reach this situation at the cathedral, for the ascent is 
perilous, by dark and narrow ladders, misappropriately 
called staircases, amidst the timbers which form the 
framework of the dome. At the Colosseum the ascent 
is safe and easy; and the visitor who pays an extra price 
may be raised by machinery. Upon arriving in the 
gallery the spectator is startled by the completeness of 
the illusion. The gradations of light and colour are so 
well managed, that the eye may range from the lower 
parts of the cathedral itself, and the houses in its im- 
mediate neighbourhood, over long lines of streets, with 
all their varieties of public and private buildings, till it 
reposes at length upon the fields and hills by which the 
great metropolis is girt. 'The amplitude of the crowded 
picture is calculated to impress the mind with a sense of 
surprise, not unmixed with those. feelings which belong 
to the contemplation of any vast and mysterious object. 

““ How rich, how poor, how abject, how august, coal 
How complicate, how wonderful, is ” London.. 
How the whole town is filled with the toil and tur- 
moil of commerce. Turn to the right, the struggle is 
there going forward; turn to the left, it is there also. 
Look from the west to the east, and let the eye range 
along the dark and narrow streets that crowd. the large 
Space from Cheapside to the Thames—all are labouring 
to fill their warehouses with the choicest products of the 
earth, or to send out fabrics to the most distant abodes 
of civilized or even of uncivilized life. “Look, beyond, 
at the river crowded with vessels, and the docks where 
masts show like a forest. In all this going to and fro 
of the sons of commerce, and in this incessant din of 
barter and brokerage, there is much throwing away of 
the best energies of man, and many painful exhibitions 
of the inequalities of fortune. But assuredly the activity 
of trade is a better thing than the activity of war. It is 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Marcu 3], 
for us to subdue the earth by an interchange of benefits., 
and thus does the energy of commerce carry the seeds 
of knowledge and taste into the most distant regions. 
Coit not, “therefore, these cranes and waggons, aid 
‘the din of all this smithery,” as vulgar things. They 
are accomplishing the purposes of Providence, slowly 
and surely; amd when we have doné our work other 
nations will, in the same way, roll forward the ball of 
civilization. | 

‘The principal reason why England is so much in ad- 
vance of other nations in her manufacturing and com- 
mercial industry, arises from the prodigious accumula- 
tions, of which London furnishes the most splendid 
example. Jecollect what the vast city, whose modern 
state we see mapped out ut the Colosseum, was five 
hundred or even two hundred years ago. 'Three-fourths 
of the space now covered by houses was occupied by 
fields in the reign of Elizabeth ; one bridge only crossed 
the Thames instead of six; not a dock then existed ; the 
steam-engine, which during the last half-century has 
made London a great manufacturing town, was un- 
known; the streets were unpaved; the houses were 
unsupplied with water ; there were few schools for ee- 
neral education ; the splendid hospitals and other insti- 
tutions for the relief of suffering, which are the glory of 
London, remained to be established ; there was no post 
office ; and scarcely a public conveyance to ply through 
the miry streets. Compare this state of things with the 
present condition of the metropolis, and see how all the 
best possessions of civilization have been gradually accu- 
mulated, and what advantages we possess in the accu- 
mulation. ‘These advantages, not peculiar to London, 
but exhibited in the same degree, though on a smaller 
scale, by every portion of the country, constitute a part, 
as it were, of the public property of the humblest indi- 
vidual. We may illustrate this by some remarks con- 
tained in the little work on ‘ Capital and Labour,’ 
published by the Society. - 

“It may assist us in making the value of capital more 
clear, if we take a rapid view of the most obvious features 
of the accumulation of a highly civilized country. | 

“The first operation in a newly-settled country is what 
is termed to clear it. Look at a civilized country, such 
as England. It zs cleared. ‘The encumbering’ woods 
are cut down, the unhealthy marshes are drained. The 
noxious animals which were once the principal inhabi- 


tants of the land are exterminated ; and their place is 
‘supplied with useful creatures, bred, nourished, and 


domesticated by human art, and multiplied to an extent 
exactly proportioned to the wants of the population. 
Forests remain for the produce of timber, but they 
are confined within the limits of their utility;—mountains 
‘where the nibbling flocks do stray,” have ceased to 
be barriers between nations and districts. Every vege- 
table that the diligence of man has been able to trans- 
plant from the most distant regions. is raised for food. 
The fields are producing a provision for the coming 
year; while the stock for immediate consumption is 
ample, and the laws of demand and supply are so 
perfectly in action, that scarcity seldom occurs and 
famine never. Rivers have been narrowed to bounds 
which limit their inundations, and they have been made 
navigable wherever their navigation could be profitable. 
The country is covered with roads and with canals, 
which render distant provinces as near to exch other for 
commercial purpases as neighbouring villages in less 
advanced countries. Houses, all possessing some com- 
forts which were wnknown even to the rich a few 
centuries ago, cover the land; in scattered farm-houses 
and mansions, in villages, in towns, in cities, in capitals. 
These houses are filled with an almost inconceivable 
number of conveniences and luxuries—furniture, glass, 
porcelain,. plate, linen, clothes, books, pictures. In the 


‘stores of the merchants and traders, the resources of 


1833.] | THE PENNY 
human ingenuity are displayed in every variety of sub- 
stances and -forms that can exhibit the multitude of 
civilized wants; and im the manufactories are seen the 
wonderful adaptations of science for satisfying those wants 
at the cheapest cost. ‘the people: who inhabit ‘such 
a civilized land have not only the readiest communi- 
eation with each other by the means uf roads and canals, 
but can trade by the agency of ships with all parts of 
the world. ‘lo carry on their intercourse amongst them- 
selves they speak one common language, reduced to cer- 
tain rules, and not broken into an embarrassing variety 
of unintelligible dialects. _ Their written communications 
are conveyed to the remotest corners of their own 
country, and even to other kingdoms, with the most 
unfailing regularity. Whatever is transacted in such a 
populous hive, the knowledge of which can afford profit 
or amusement to the community, is recorded with a 
rapidity which is not more astonishing than the general: 
accuracy of the record. What is more important, the 
discoveries of science, the elegancies of literature, and all 
that can advance the general intelligeuce, are preserved 
and diffused with the utmost ease, expedition, and 
security, so that the public stock of knowledge is con- 
stantly increasing. Lastly, the general well-being of all 
is sustamed by laws,—sometimes indeed imperfecily 
devised and expensively administered, but on the whole 
of infimite value to every member of the community; 
and the property of all is defended from external invasion 
and from internal anarchy by the power of government, 
which will be respected only in proportion as it advances 
the general good of the humblest of its subjects, by 
securing their capital from plunder and defending their 
industry from oppression. 

“Whenwe look at the nature of the accumulated wealth 
of society, it is easy to see that the poorest member of it 
who dedicates himself to profitable labour is in a certain 
sense rich—rich, as compared witli the unproductive and 
therefore poor individuals of any uncivilized tribe. The 
very scaffolding, if we may so express it, of the social 
structure, and the moral forces by which that structure 
was reared, and is upheld, are to him riches. ‘To be rich 
is to possess the means of supplying our wants—to be 
poor is to be destitute of those means. Riches do not 
consist only of money and lands, of stores of food or 
clothing, of machines and tools. The particular know- 
ledge of any art,—the general understanding of the laws 
of nature,—the habit from experience of doing any work 
in the readiest way,—the facility of communicating ideas 
by written language,—the enjoyment of institutions con- 
ceived in the spirit of social improvement,—the use of 
the general conveniences of civilized life, such as roads— 
these advantages, which the poorest man in England 
possesses Or may possess, constitute individual property. 
They are means for the supply of wants, which in them- 
selves are essentially more valuable for obtaining his 
full share of what is appropriated, than if all the pro- 
ductive powers of nature were unappropriated, and if, 
consequently, these great elements of civilization did not 
exist. Society obtains its almost unlimited command 
over riches by the increase and preservation of knowledge, 
and by the division of employments, including union of 
power. In his double capacity of a consumer and a 
producer, the humblest man has the full benefit of these 
means of wealth—of these great instruments by which 
the productive power of labour is carried to its highest 
point. 

‘* But if these common advantages, these public means 
of society, offering so many important agents to the 
individual for the gratification of his-wants, alone are 
worth more to him than all the precarious power of the 
savage state,—how incomparably greater are his advan- 
tares when we consider the wonderful accumulations, in 
the form of private wealth, which are ready to be 
exchanged with the labour of all those who are-in a 


MAGAZINE. 123 


condition to.add to the store. It has been truly said, 


‘it is a great misfortune to be poor, but it is a much 
greater misfortune for the poor man to he surrounded 
only with other poor like himself’ The reason is 
obvious. The productive power of ‘labour can be 
carried but a very little way without accumulation of 
capital, Ina highly civilized country, capital is heaped 
up on every side by ages of toil and perseverance. A 
snecession, during a long series of years, of small advan- 
tages to individuals unceasingly renewed and carried 
forward by the principle of exchanges, has produced this 
prodigious amount of the aggregate capital of a country 
whose civilization is of ancient date. his acenmulation 
of the means of existence, and of all that makes existence 
comfortable, is principally resulting from the labours of 
those who have gone before us. It is a stock which was 
beyond their own immediate wants, and which was not 
extinguished with their Jives. It is our capital. Jt has 
been produced by labour alone, physical and mental 

It can be kept up only by the same power which has 
created it, carried to the highest point of productiveness 
by the arrangements of scciety.” 





ADMIRAL LORD VISCOUNT EXMOUTH. 


THE recent death of Admiral Lord Viscount Exmouth, 
which took place at his house at Teignmouth on the 
23d of January last, induces us to devote 2 smal] part 
of our space to a notice of the professional career of one 
of the best men and ablest officers of whom our naval 
service has ever had to boast. We shall avail ourselves 
for this purpose of a memoir of his lordship, which ap- 
peared in the last number of the United Service Journal, 
from the pen of one who, during an intimate con- 
nexion of many years, enjoyed peculiar opportunities of 
observing both the method of his every-day life, and his 
conduct in extraordinary emergencies. 

The father of Lord Exmouth, whose name was Samuel 
Pellew, commanded the Government Packet-Boat at 
Dover, where his son Edward was born on the 19th of 
April, 1757. The boy went to sea at the age of thirteen, 
having lost his father five years before. The ship in which 
he began his career was the Juno frigate, and his first 
voyage was to the Falkland Islands, at the extremity of 
South America. He was not engaged in active service 
till 1776, on the breaking out of the American war, 
when being sent out as midshipman in the Blonde 
frigate to Lake Champlain, he greatly distinguished him- 
self in the conrse of that and the following year. ‘The 
gallantry which he displayed on various occasious, ob- 
tained acknowledgements in the most flattering terms, 
both from Lord Howe and General Burgoyne, the former 
of whom also eave him a lieutenant’s commission. On 
the surrender of the British force, after the battle of 
Saratoga, he returned on his parole to England, and 
was soon after appointed first lientenant of the Apcllo 
fngate, under Captain Pownoll. In the midst of an 
action, fought in the spring of 1780, the Captain fell 
wounded in Lieutenant Pellew’s arms, who thereupon 
assumed the command of the ship, and soon compelled 
the enemy to take safety in flight. For his conduct 
on this occasion, he was promoted to the command of 
the Hazard sloop of war, from which, in March 1782, 
he was removed to the Pelican. A few months after he 
was raised by Admiral Keppel to the rank of post 
captain, for a very spirited attack, near the Bass Rock in 
the Frith of Forth, on three of the enemy’s privateers, all 
of which he drove on shore. The following ten years he 
spent partly afloat at various stations, and in the com- 
mand of different ships, and partly at home. 

On the breaking out of the war of 1793, he was ap- 
pointed to the command of the frivate La Nymphe, of 
thirty-six @uns, in which he sailed from Falmouth on the 
17th of June, and the next day captured the French 

R 2 


124 


ship La Cléopatre, after a sharp struggle. For this 
achievement he received the honour of knighthood. It 
was followed by many other successful exploits, the enu- 
meration of which we must omit. ‘The following para- 
graph, however, of the memoir before us is too interest- 
ing not to be quoted at length. ‘ But justly,” says the 
writer, “ as his conduct in command was entitled to dis- 
tinction, nothing gained him more deserved honour than 
that union of prompt resolution with constitutional phi- 
lanthropy which personally endeared him to his: fol- 
lowers. Twice already, when captain of the Winchelsea 
frizate, this heroic spirit had been signally displayed by 
his leaping from the deck, and thus saving two of his 
drowning sailors. A more conspicuous example of this 
noble feeling was shown on the 26th January, 1796, 
when, by his great personal exertions, he preserved the 
crew and passengers of the Dutton transport, which, 
crowded with troops and their families, proceeding on 
the expedition to the West Indies, was driven on the 
rocks under the citadel at Plymouth. The writer of 
this slight memoir cannot refuse his readers the pleasure 
of seeing the hero's own modest account of this act of 
benevolence, contained in a private letter which he re- 
ceived from him many years afterwards (1811), when 
commander-in-chief in the North Seas. . ‘ Why do you 
ask me to relate the wreck of the Dutton? Susan (Lady 
Exmouth) and I were driving to a dinner party at Ply- 
mouth, when we saw crowds running to the Hoe, and 
learning it was a wreck, I left the carriage to take her 
on, and joined the crowd. I saw the loss of the whole 
five or six hundred was inevitable without somebody to 
direct them, for the last officer was pulled on shore as I 
reached the surf. J urged their return, which was re- 
fused; upon which [ made the rope fast to myself, and 
was hauled through the surf on board, established 
order, and did not leave her until every soul was saved 
but the boatswain, who would not go before me. 
I wot safe, and so did he, and the ship went all to pieces ; 
but I was laid in bed for a week by getting under the 
mainmast (which had fallen towards the shore) ; and my 
back was cured by Lord Spencer’s having conveyed to 
me by letter his Majesty's intention to dub me baronet. 
No more have I to say, except that I felt more pleasure 
in giving to a mother’s arms a dear little infant only 
three weeks old, than I ever felt in my life; and both 
were saved. ‘lhe struggle she had to entrust me with 
the bantling was a scene I cannot describe, nor need 
you, and consequently you will never let this be visible.’ ” 
‘This letter was communicated to no one, till after the 
death of the writer. From this time, till the peace in 1802, 
Sir Ixdward was employed in active service, and shared 
largely in the success which attended the naval arms of 
his country. On coming home after the peace he was 
returned to Parliament as member for Barnstaple. The 
resumption of hostilities, however, soon called him again 
abroad. In 1804 he was sent to take the chief command on 
the East-India station, m the Culloden of. seventy-four 
guns; and here he remained till 1S09, when he had at- 
tained the rank of Vice-Admiral. A few months after his 
return to England, he was again sent out as commander- 
in-chief of the fleet then blockading the Scheldt, and 
assisted in various operations of importance till the peace 
of 1814. .Among the promotions which were made on 
that occasion, Admiral Pellew was elevated to the peerage 
by the title of Baron Exmonth, with a pension of £2000 
per annum. He.also received the riband of the. Bath, 
and a year after, the Grand Cross of that order... On the 
escape of Napoleon his services were agwain employed, 
and he was sent out in command. of a squadron to the 
Mediterranean. From this station, ‘in the beginning of 
the year 1816, he proceeded, by order of the government, 
to Algiers, and obtained from the Dey a promise to 
liberate all the subjects of the allies who were detained 
by him in slavery, Most of our readers will recollect 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


“divine origin of the new faith. 


[Marc 81, 


the manner in which this engagement was disregarded 
by the African sovereign as soon as the British ships 
had left his coast, and the brilliant success which attended 
the expedition that was immediately sent out under 
Lord Exmouth’s command to compel him to perform 
his stipulations. 'Twelve hundred Christian slaves were 
by this exploit restored to liberty. The dignity of Vis- 
count was the well-merited reward which Lord Exmouth 
received for the important service which he had rendered 
to his country and to Christendom. The following year the 
chief command at Plymouth was conferred on him for the 
usual period of three years ;’and at the conclusion of that 
term, having now attained the age of sixty-three, he re- 
tired into private iife, passing the greater part of his time 
at his beautiful residence at Teignmouth. “There,” says 
the writer before us, “ while enjoying repose in the bo- 
som of his own family, he looked back on the chequered 
scene of his former services with unmingled gratitude for. 
all the dangers he had escaped—all the mercies he had 
experienced—and all the blessings he enjoyed. Retired 
from the strife and vanity of. the world, his thoughts 
were raised with increasing fervour to Him who had 
guarded his head in the day of battle, and had led him 
safely through the hazards of the pathless sea. No longer 
harassed by the cares and responsibility of public service, 
religion, which he had always held in reverence, now 
struck deeper root in his heart; and nothing was more. 
gratifying to the contemplation of his family and_ his 
most attached friends than the Christian serenity which 
shed its best blessings on his latter days.” 


THE CARTOONS OF RAFFAELLE.—WNo. 4. 
THE SACRIFICE AT LYSTRA, . 


THE man cured by ‘St. Paul at Lystra had never 
walked, having been a cripple from the hour of his birth. 
His: conversion, it would appear, had preceded this 
signal benefit. He had been listening to the discourse 
delivered by the apostle, “ who steadfastly beholding him,- 
and perceiving that he had faith to be healed, said with 
a loud voice, Stand upright on thy feet! and he leaped 
up, and walked.” ‘This evidence of supernatural power, 
exhibited before the eyes of the whole city, might have 
been expected to produce an immediate conviction of the 
The effect, however, was 
different: the miracle was indeed not only admitted, but 
followed by a burst of religions enthusiasm; but the 
acknowledgment of superhuman interposition was trans- 
ferred by the pagans to their own deities, and Paul and 
Barnabas were saluted, not as the apostles of Christ, but 
as Mercury ond Jupiter. ‘‘ And the priests of Jupiter 
brought oxen and garlands unto the gates, and would 
have done sacrifice with the people.” Raffaelle, whose 
imagination, although regulated by the most rigid accu 

racy of judgement, was sensitively alive to the pzcturesque, 
has availed himself of this point in the narrative, to 
produce a composition strikingly varied and beautiful. 
The unostentatious acts of the apostles are here mixed 
up with the pompous rituals of heathen superstition. 
The priests bending in solemn devotion, the inferior, 
ministers engaged in the act of sacrifice, the victim 
sheep and oxen, the beautiful chiidren’ who officiate 
at the altar,—these objects, in all their varieties of 
action, character, and costume, present so rich a com- 
bination of materials as would perhaps, in the hands of 
any other painter, have encumbered the effect, and dis- 
tracted the attention.. Throughout the cartoon, however, 
the unity of the subject is completely preserved. - Paul, 
and Barnabas are immediately distinguished, not only 

by the eeneral attention being directed towards them, 
but by nobility of mien and action. ‘They stand also on an. 


‘elevated plane, and are separated by a considerable in- 


terval from the tumultuous crowd which approaches 
them, Raffaelle’s first object, in all his works, is the 


1833} “THE PENNY MAGAZINE, © 125 


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126 


clear development of his story, which is sometimes more 
effectually accomplished by departing from than ad- 
hering to the literal fact. He never loses sight, however, 
of any leading point in the text; and as the apostles are 
described on this occasion to have “ run in among the 
people,’ he has shown another disciple who forces his 
way through the crowd, protesting vehemently against 
the impious ceremony, and endeavouring to arrest the 
arm of the executioner, which is uplifted to strike the 
victim. The energetic action of these figures contrasts 
finely with the still and solemn air of the ‘priests ; the 
whole composition, indeed, is admirably balanced with 
alternations of action and repose. But the main point 
to be impressed on the spectator was the miraculous 
cure. This is accordingly done with surprising force 
and perspicuity. At the right extremity of the cartoon 
appears the man who has been healed; his figure in- 
clines to tallness, and he is well-formed throughout; his 
legs, in particular, are muscular and symmetrical. By 
what artifice then has the painter so clearly expressed 
that this is the cripple who was lame from his birth >— 
Impelled by emotion too big for utterance, with ex- 
tended arms, pressed hands, and every demonstration of 
enraptured gratitude, he rushes forwards towards the 
apostles. His crutches, now useless, are thrown on the 
ground, and there is in his person no evidence of his 
former unhappy condition, except in that cast of features 
peculiar to deformed persons. He is surrounded by in- 
dividuals anxious to assure themselves of the truth of the 
miracle by ocular inspection. An aged man, whose habit 
and aspect announce him to be a person of rank and 
authority, with a mingled air of curiosity and reverential 
awe, lifts the garment from the limb which has been 
healed, while his other hand is at the same time uplifted 
i astonishment at the incontestable proof before him. 
The same sentiment is expressed, with characteristic 
discriminations, among other persons in the group. 

It is said by the commentators on the Cartoons, that 
St. Paul is rending his garments in horror of the sacri- 
legious rite about to be performed. It never appeared 


to us that this was the action intended by Raffaelle, the - 


violence of which would have ill accorded with that 
apostolical dignity which he was always careful to pre- 
serve. We rather think that he meant the apostle to be 
giving utterance to the exclamation which he used on 
this occasion, ‘“ We are also men, with passions like 
unto yourselves ;” and baring his breast in attestation of 
his humanity. St. Barnabas, who stands behind, gives 
thanks to God for the miraculous manifestation of his 
power. 

Nothing perhaps in this cartoon fixes attention more 
strongly than the beauty of the two children at the 
altar; the one sounding musical instruments, the other 
holding a box of incense. Vacant, happy, and absorbed 
in their employment, they scarcely seem conscious of the 
events which are passing before them. No artist per- 
haps ever approached Raffaelle in the delineation of 
infantine innocence and simplicity. _ 

That part of the composition comprised in the sacri- 
fice was drawn by Raffaelle from an antique basso- 
relievo. His known wealth was such that, as Rey- 
nolds justly observes, he might borrow without the 
imputation of poverty. 


British Museum.—Among the last accounts printed by 
order of the House of Commons respecting the British 
Museum, is a Return of the Number of Persons who have 
been admitted to view the Museum from Christmas 1826 to 
Christmas 1832. From this statement it appears that the 
whole number of visitors for each of the six years to which 
it refers was— 


In 1827 , . 79,131 | Ia 1830. . 71,336 
1828 . . 81,228 1832, . 99,112 
1829 . . 68,103 1832 2 «» 147,896 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Marcu 31, 


What may have been the cause of the very considerable 
decrease in 1829 and 1830, as compared with the preceding 
two years, we do not know; but it is at any rate satisfactory 
to perceive, that in 1831 the number had again risen to 
something very considerably beyond the highest number of 
former years. We say it is satisfactory to perceive this; for 
undoubtedly the diffusion of those tastes, which are to be 
gratified: by a visit to the Museum, may be taken as one 
evidence of the progress among us of civilization in its 
highest and truest sense. The increase during the year 
1832, however, is much greater than that during the pre- 
ceding year, in proportion as well as in actual amount. It 
is within a trifle of fifty per cent., while the whole number is 
considerably more than double that for 1830. We think we 
shall not be in error in attributing this extraordinary increase 
in some degree to the manner in which the attention of the 
public has been called to the subject during the past year in 
the ‘Penny Magazine. Indeed we may be quite certain, 
that a publication circulating to the extent of two hundred 
thousand copies cannot have failed, by its repeated notices 
of the objects of interest contained in our great national 
collection, to send many of its readers, who had not been 
there before, to examine them with their own eyes; and 
also to tempt others to pay a second visit, to whom it had, 
perhaps, given some preparatory information which they did 
not before possess. 


THE SMUT BALLS OR PEPPER BRAND. 


[We are indebted for the following interesting paper to Francis 
Bauer, Esq., a gentleman who has attained a most deserved 
celebrity for his valuable discoveries connected with the diseases 
of grain, the most important article of human fvod.] 

Tue existence of this destructive disease in wheat has 

long been known to every agriculturist in England, as 

well as by those on the Continent; but the real cause of 
it is yet very little known; not only by the practical 
cultivator, but even by scientific authors. Such erro- 
neous and contradictory opinions have been advanced 
that the farmer cannot possibly derive any satisfactory 
information from them. I hope, however, that the fol- 
lowing observations and illustrations of facts may be 
acceptable to some of the numerous readers of the 

‘Penny Magazine.’ 

This disease is occasioned by the seeds of an extremely 
minute parasitic fungus, of the genus wredo, being ab- 
sorbed by the roots of the germinating wheat grains and 
propelled by the rising sap, long before the wheat blos- 
soms, into the young germen or ovum, where the seeds 
of the fungi vegetate, and rapidly multiply, thereby pre- 
venting, not only the fecundation of the ovum, but even 
the development of the parts of fructification. In con- 
sequence no embryo is produced in an infected germen, 
which however continues to grow as long as the sound 
erains do, and, when the sound grains arrive at maturity, 
the infected ones are generally larger than, and are easily 
distinguished from, the sound grains, by their darker 
green colour, and from the ova retaining the same shape 
and form which they had at the time when infection took 
place. See fig. 3 and 4 in the annexed cut; also fie. 
| and 2, which represent sound wheat grains, and are 
here introduced to show the difference between the 
infected and the sound grains. 

The name of this disease is also ag undecided and 
various as the hitherto supposed causes of its existence ; 
the most prevailing names in England, being Smut Bail, 
Pepper Brand, and Brand Bladders; and many others 
have been given to it, not only by the farmers jn almost 
every county, but also by scientific naturalists. 

No author has yet been found who mentions or 
describes this species of wredo, the distinguishing charac- 
teristic of which being its extremely offensive smell; I 
think the most proper specific name for it would be that 
of uredo fotida. 


4. Uhe earliest period at which I discovered the parasite 


within the cavity of the ovula of a young plant of wheat 
(the seed grain of which had been inoculated with the 


j fungi of wredo fetida, and sown the 14th of November, 


1833.) 


1805) was the 5th of June, 1806, being sixteen days 
before the ear emerged from its hose, and about twenty 
days before the sound ears, springing from the same 
root, were in bloom. At that early stage the inner 
cavity of the ovum is very small; and, after fecundation, 
is filled with the albumen or farinaceous substance of 
the seed, and already occupied by many young fungi, 
which, from their jely-like root or spawn, adhere to the 
membrane which lines the cavity, and from which they 
can be easily detached in small flakes with that spawn: 
in that state their very short pedicles may be distinctly 
seen. See fig. 7. At first the fungi are of a pure white 
colour, aud when the ear emerges from its hose the ovum 
is much enlarged, but still retains its original shape, and, 
the fungi rapidly multiplying, many have then nearly 
come to maturity, assumed a darker colour, and having 
separated from the spawn, lie loose in the cavity of the 
ovum: the infected grains continue growing, and the 
fungi continue to multiply till the sound grains have 
attained their full size and maturity, when the infected 
grains are easily distinguished from the sound ones by 
beiug generally larger, and of a darker green colour; 
and if opened, they appear to be filled to excess with 
these dark-coloured fungi; but the grains infected with 
the uredo foetida very rarely burst, and these fungi are 
seldom found on the outside of the grain; but if the grain 
be bruised they readily emit their offensive smell, which 
is worse than that from putrid fish. When the sound 
erains are perfectly ripe and dry, and assume their licht 
brown colour, the infected grains also change, but to a 
somewhat darker brown, retaining however the same shape 
which the ovum had at its formation; the rudiments of 
the stigma also remaining unaltered. See fig. 3 and 4, 
and compare them with the sound grain, fig. 1 and 3. 

If the infected grain be cut in two, it will be found to 
consist solely of the outermost interument of the ovum, 
filled with the ripe black fungi, without any trace of the 
embryo or albumen. See fig. 5. 

Plauts of wheat infected with the Pepper Brand may: 
be easily distinguished in the field by their size, being 
generally several inches higher than plants not infected, 
and larger in bulk ; and I have found in all instances a 
greater number of stems produced from the same root, 
the ears. containing more:-spickets, and. those spickets 
more perfect grains, than were contained in those of 
sound plants, of the same seed, and growing in the 
same field.. é: 

One plant, produced from seed which I had inocu- 
lated, had twenty-four complete stems and ears, some of 
the stems with the ears measuring above five feet, every 
part of the plant proportionally large, and all the ears 
entirely infected. ‘ Another specimen had eight stems 
from the same root, five of them were above six feet 
high, and the ears entirely infected; the other three 
stems were considerably shorter, their ears smaller, and 
their grains perfectly sound. 

Lhis enlargement of the plant, however, is not to be 
attributed to the infection, but is undoubtedly the con- 
sequence of a luxurious vegetation, produced by a rich 
or moist soil, which secures and promotes the infection 
more. than a dry or moderately rich soil. 

Neither does this disease always affect the entire ear : 
{ found some ears having one side infected, whilst the 
opposite side was perfectly sound.. Sometimes five or six 
perfectly sound grains are found in an infected ear, and 
afew thoroughly infected grains are found in an other- 
wise sound ear. ‘The infected grains are always in the 
last spicket at the apex of the ear; from which it appears 
that the infecting seed of the fungi did not reach the 
ovum before fecundation: in some of these grains a 
portion of the albumen was formed, but no trace of 


an embryo existed; but in others there was a con-. 


siderable portion of albumen, 


and a perfect embryo 
formed. See fig. 6, . 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


127 


At the time: when the sound erains change their 
colour, the fungi, being ripe, cease to multiply ; they are’ 
all of a globular form, and nearly of equal size, VIZ. 
zzy0 part of an inch in’ diameter. «Fig. 8 js eee 
part of a square iach on the micrometer; it sustains 
sixteen full grown fungi of uredo feetida; and this 
square, being represented of the size of a square inch, 
Kinelish measure, is consequently magnified one hun- 
dred and sixty thousand times in superficies, and the 
sixteen fungi represented in that square are magnified 
in the saine degree ; showing that no less than two mil- 
lions five hundred and sixty thousand individual fungi 
would be required to cover one square inch. | 

Fig. 9 represents a fungus not quite ripe, with its 
short pedicle; and fig. 10 a perfectly ripe one, both 
magnified one thousand times lineally, or one million 
times superficially. These. figures are thus hichly 
inagnified, to show the reticular structure of these 
fungi, which forms the external membrane; and it 
appears ‘that the internal substance consists of a cellular 
tissue. | 

Fig. 11 represents one of the fungi shedding its 
seeds, which is only observable when viewed under 
water. J could never yet see the seeds of these fungi in 
a dry state, for they then appear to be mixed with some 
mucous fluid, which causes them to adhere together in 
hard lumps. | 

That the seeds of the fungi of uredo feetida are the sole 
cause of that destructive disease in wheat, the Pepper 


‘Brand, I think I have fully ascertained by numerous 


experiments of inoculating even the finest and purest 
samples of seed-wheat; and if that fact be admitted, it 
becomes evident that the prevention of it can only be 
effected by cleansing the seed-wheat so effectually, that 
every particle of the fungi and their seed be entirely 
removed from the grains. But as these extremely minute 
fungi, when once mixed with the seed-wheat, insinuate 
themselves ito the grooves at the backs and the beards 
at the tops of the wheat-grains, I think it almost im 
possible to dislodge them by the mere process of wash- 
ing. I once received some samples which had been so 
prepared, and washed in salt water, and declared to be 
perfectly clean; but on my putting some of these puri- 
fied grains into water, in a watch-glass, and leaving them 
to soak about twelve hours, on then bringing them. 
under the microscope I found many of the fungi floating 
on the water. This fact convinces me that mere cleans: 
ing is no secure preventive of this disease; and that the 
most efficacious, and perhaps the only remedy for pre-. 
venting it, is that of depriving the seeds of the fungi of 
their vitality. To effect this, innumerable remedies have 
been recommended, and I believe applied by the far- 
mers, but have seldom proved entirely successful. From 
my own often repeated experiments, though on a limited 
scale, I am convinced that the best and surest remedy 
is to steep the seed-wheat in properly prepared lime- 
water, leaving it to soak at least twelve hours, and then 
to dry it well in the air before sowing it; but I fear 
that it will be found very difficult, if not impossible, even 
by this method, to kill the seeds of the fungi entirely, 
when the quantity of seed-corn is great; aud conse- 
quently some infected plants might still be found in’ 
large fields. | | , 
Steeping and properly drying the seed-corn in the 
above manner, not only prevents the disease arising: 
from the -infected seed-corn, but does also effectually 
prevent the clean seed from being infected by the seed | 
of the fungi, which might exist in the soil of a field on 
which diseased wheat had been growing before; and 
consequently the cleanest samples of seed-wheat should. 
be steeped, as well as the most notoriously infected. - 
These facts I have ascertained by repeated experi- 
ments of strongly inoculating with the fungi seed-corn 


which before had been proverly steeped and dried, and 


128 


the result has always proved satisfactory, for the infec- 
tion never took place. 

Wheat is the only plant that is liable to be affected by 
the Pepper Brand, which is occasioned by the uredo 


Figure 
1. A front view of a perfectly 
sound ripe wheat grain, 
magnified five times li- 
neally, or twenty-five 
times superficially. 


9, A back view of ditto. 


3. A front view of a diseased 
ripe grain, magnified five 
times lincally, or twenty- 
five times superficially. 


4, A back view of ditto. 


5, A front vicw of a trans- 
verse section of a ripe 
diseased wheat grain, 


. 






magnified five times li- 
neally, or twenty-five 
times superficially. 


6, A front view of a transverse 
section of an infected 
wheat grain, which the 
sced of the fungi had 
only reached after fecun. 

magnified five (ei 


Me _ “ —— 
Mi i rT ml N 
dation, ‘ i | fy 


times lineally, or twenty- 






five times superficially, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 





$ 


[Marcu 31, 1833. 


foctida. The Smut, or Dust Brand, is also occasioned 
by an uredo, but of a decidedly different species. 
Kew, February 21, 1833. 


¥F. B. 


Figure 

7, A small group of fungi of 
the uredo fcetida on their 
root or spawn, magni- 
fied four hundred times 
lineally, or 160,000 times 
superficially. 


—— 


Te0009 Part of a square 
inch on the micrometer, 
sustaining sixteen ripe 
fungi of uredo fetida, 
magnified four hundred 
times lineally, or 160,000 
times superficially. 
( 9. A young fungus of uredo 
! foetida not quite ripe, at 
which (ime it can be se- 







has 
i parated, with its pedicle, 
from the spawn. 





10. A full grown, perfeetly ripe. 













* 1,000,000 times superh: 
cially. 


Wit " 97)) ine 
| eee. fungus. Both these figures 
Hin A wit } mn 
ee he vi are magnified one thou- 
Hh i. | BEG . ‘ 
ae a nl Me sand times lineally, or 

si authia pe ay 
ig ua” 


1), A ripe fungus, shedding its 
seed, magnified in the 
ame degree, as Nos. 9 
aud 10. 


¢ 





Written Newspapers.—The desire of news from the 
capital, on the part of the wealthier country residents, and 
probably the false information and the impertinence of the 
news-writers, led to the common establishment of a very 
curious trade,—that of a news correspondent, who, for 
a subscription of three or four pounds per annum, wrote a 
letter of news every post-day to his subscriber in the country. 
This profession probably existed in the reign of James La 
for in Ben Jonson’s play ‘The Staple of News,’ written in 
the first year of Charles I., we have a very cunious and 
amusing description of an office of news manufactures - 


“ This is the outer room where my clerks sit, 
And keep their sides, the Register 7’ the midst ; 
The Examiner, he sits private there, within ; 
And here I have my several rolls and files 
Of news by the alphabet, and all put up 
Under their heads.”’ 


The news thus communicated appears to have fallen into as 
much disrepute as the public news. In the advertisement 
announcing the first number of the ‘Evening Post,’ 
(September 6th, 1709,) it is said, “There must be three or 
four pound per annum paid by those gentlemen who are 
out of town, for written news, which is so far, generally, 
from having any probability of matter of fact in it, that it 
is frequently stuffed up with a We hear, §c.; or, an emt- 
nent Jew merchant has received a letter, §&c.; being nothing 
more than downright fiction’? The same advertisement, 
speaking of the published papers, says, “‘We read more 
of our own affairs in the Dutch papers than in any of our 
own. The trade of a news correspondent seems to have 
suggested a sort of union of written news and published 
news; for towards the end of the seventeenth century, we 
have newsletters printed in type to imitate writing. The 


nh RS Rt a SSS] 
“4 


most famous of these was that. commenced by Ichabod 
Dawks, in 1696, the first number of which “was ‘thus 
announced: “This Iétter will be done upon good, writing 
paper, and blank space left, that any gentleman may write 
his own private business. It does undoubtedly exceed the 
best of the written news, contains double the quantity, 1s 
read with abundance more ease and pleasure, and will be 
useful to improve the younger sort in writing a cunous 
hand.’—Compantion to the Newspaper. . 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Iun Fields. 


ra 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Shopkeepers and Hawkers may be supplied Wholesale by the followtng 
Booksellers, of whom, also, any of the previous Numbers may be had :— 


London, GroomBninae, Panyer Alley, Manchester, Rowinson; and WEBB 
Paternoster Row. and SIMMS. :; 

Barnstaple, BRiGHTWELL and Sons Neweastle-upon-Tyne, CHARNLEY. 

Bath, SimMs. Norwieh, JARROLD and Son; and 

Birmingham, DRAKE. WILKIN and FLETCHER, 

Bristol, WestLey and Co. Nottingham, WRiGHT. 

Bury St. Edmunds, LANKESTER. Oxford, SUATTER. 

Canterbury, MARTEN. Penrith, BROWN. 

Carlisle, THURNAM; and Scott, Plymouth, NETTLETON. 

Derby, W1LK1ns and Son. ' Portsea, Horsey, Jun. 

Devonport, BYERs. Sheffield, RipGe. 

Doncaster, Brooxe and WuHirTs, Shrewsbury, T1IBNAM. 

Exeter, BALLE. Southampton, FLETCHER. 

Falmouth, PHILP. Staffordshire, Lane End, C. Watts, 

Hull, STEPHENSON. Worcester, DEIGHTON. 

Jersey, Joun Cazre, Jun. Dublin, WAKEMAN, ° 

Leeds, BAINES and NEWSOME. Aberdeen, SMITH. 

JLineoln, BRookE and Sons. Edinburgh, O.1ver and Boyn. 

Liverpool, WiLLMER and SMITH. Glasgow, ATKINSON and Co. 

Llandovery, D. R, and W. Rers. New York, Jackson. 

Lynn, SMITH, 


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THE 








OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


(Apri 6, 1833. 








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‘THe ex.raordinary instincts of the beaver, in a state of | in the Franklin Institute of Pennsylvania. It is givenin 


freedem, have long furnished one of the most attractive 
subjeets of Natural History. Much that is false and 
exageerated has found its way into the common descrip- 
tions of the habits of these animals; and the really 
extraordinary qualities which the species display, have 
been referred to an intelligence approaching that of the 
human race. The singular actions of the beaver are 
suggested by instinct ‘alone—the saine instinct which 
@uides the ant and the bee. Hach individual beaver is 
precisely the same in its faculties as another; they are 
all untaught—they are all incapable of teaching—they 
all remain the same in point of intelligence from genera- 
tion to generation. , 

The exaggeration which absurdly prevails with re- 
gard to the habits of the beaver may be referred to 
unavoidable causes. The species are exceedingly timid 
and vigilant, and invariably labour in the night-time. 
Thus, few persons competent to observe them accurately 
have had the opportunity of doing so. The greater part 
of our information is derived from the fur-traders and 
Indians ; and these men are ignorant and credulous, 
deceiving themselves and deceiving others. The best 
account we have seen of the habits of the beaver is 
that by Dr. John Godman, Professor of Natural History 

Vou. II. 


the second volume of his ‘ American Natural History ; 
and this we shall abridge. 
The general aspect of the beaver, at first view, would 


| remind one of a very large rat, and seen aia little dis- 


tance it might be readily mistaken for the common musk- 
rat. But the greater size of the beaver, the thickness 
and breadth of its head, and its horizontally flattened, 
broad and scaly tail, render it impossibie to mistake 
it, when closely examined, for any other creature. 

In a state of captivity or insulation, the beaver is a 
quiet or rather stupid animal, evincing about as much 
intelligence as a tamed badger, or any other quadruped 
which can learn to distinguish its feeder, come when 
called, or grow familiar with the inmates of the house 
where it is kept.’ It is only in a state of nature that the 
beaver displays any of those singular modes of acting 
which have so long rendered the species celebrated. Their 
extraordinary instincts are applied to two principal 
objects: 1. ‘To secure a sufficient depth of water to pre- 
vent it from being frozen to the bottom; 2. To construct 
huts, in which they pass the winter. 

If beavers choose a spot for their residence where 
the water is not of sufficient depth, they set about 
opviating the inconvenience by building a dam. ‘The 


130 THE PENNY 


materials used for the construction of their dams are 
the trunks and branches of small birch, mulberry, 
willow, poplar, &c. ‘They begin to cut down their 
timber for building early in the summer, but their 
edifices are. not commenced until about the middle or 
latter part of Aueust, and are not completed until the 
beginning of the cold season. The strength of their 
teeth and their perseverance in this work, may be fairly 
estimated by the size of the trees they cut down. Dr. 
Best informs us that he has seen a mulberry-tree, eight 
inches in diametcr, which had been gnawed down by 
the beaver. Dr. Godman saw, while on the banks of. 
the Little Miami river, several stumps of trees, which 
had evidently been felled by these animals of at least 
five or six inches in diameter. ‘These are cut in such a 
manner as to fall into the water, and then floated towards 
the site of the dam or dwellings. Small shrubs, &c. cut 
at a distance from the water, are drageed with their 
{eeth to the stream, and then launched and towed to the 
place of deposit. At a short distance above a beaver- 
dam the number of trees whieh have been cut down 
appears truly surprising, and the regularity of the stumps 
which are left might lead persons unacquainted with the 
habits of the animal to believe that the clearing was the 
result of human mdustry. 

‘The figure of the dam varies according to circum- 
stances. Should the current be very gentle, the dam is 
earricd nearly straght across; but when the stream is 
swiftly flowing:, 1t is uniformly made with a considerable 
curve, having the convex part opposed to the current. 
Along with the trunks and branches of trees they inter- 
minele mud and stones, to give greater security; and 
when dams have been long undisturbed and frequently 
repaired, they acquire great solidity, and their power of. 
resisting the pressure of water and icc is greatly increased 
by the willow, birch, and other cuttings occasionally 
taking root, and eventually growing up into something 
of a regular hedge. ‘The materials used in constructing 
the dams are secured solely by the resting of the branches, 
&c. against the bottom, and the subsequent accumulation 
of mud and stones, by the deposit of the stream or by the 
industry of the beavers. , 

The dwellings of the beaver are formed ‘of the ‘same 
materials as their dams, and are very rude, though 
strong, and adapted in size to the number of their inha- 
bitants. ‘These are seldom more than four old and six or 
eight young ones. : 

When ‘building their houscs, they place most of the 
wood crosswise and nearly horizontally, observing no 
other order than that of leaving a cavity in the middle. 
ranches which project inward are cut off with their teeth 
and thrown among the rest. The houses are by no 
means built of sticks first and then plastered, but all the 
materials, sticks, mud, and stones, if the latter can be 
procured, are mixed up together, and this composition is 
employed from the foundation to the summit. The mud 
is obtained from the adjacent banks or bottom of the 
stream or -pond near the door of the hut. he beaver 
always carries mud and stones by holding them between 
is fore-paws and throat. 

Their work is all performed at night, and with much 
expedition. When straw or grass is mingled with the 
mud used by them in building, it is an accidental cir- 
cumstance, owing to the nature of the spot whence the 
mud was taken. As soon as any part of the material is 
placed where it is ‘intended to remain, they turn round 
aud give it a smart blow with the tail. ‘The same sort 
of blow is struek by them upon the surface of the water 
when they are iu the act of divine. 

The outside of the hut is covered or plastered with 
mud late in the antumn, and after frost has begun to 
appear. By freezing it soon becomes almost as hard 
as stone, effectually excluding their @reat enemy, the 
wolverene, during the winter. Their habit of walking 


MAGAZINE. [APRIL 64 


over the work frequently during its progress, has led to 
the absurd idea of their using the tail as a trowel. The 
habit of flapping with the tail is retained by them in a 
state of captivity, and, unless it be im the acts already 


mentioned, appears designed to cffect no particular pur- 


pose. 'The houses, when they have stood for some time, 
and been kept in repair, become so firm from the con 
solidation of all the materials, as to require great exertion, 
and the use of the ice-chisel, or other iron instruments, 
to be broken open. The laborious nature of such an 
undertaking may easily be conceived, when it 1s known 
that the tops of the houses are generally from four to 
six feet thick at the apex of the conc. Hearne relates 
having seen one instance in which the crown or roof 
of the hut was more thun eioht feet in thickness. 

The door or hole leading into the beaver-hut is 
always on the side farthest from the land, and is near the 
foundation of the house, or at a considerable depth 
under water. “This is the only opening into the hut, 
which is not divided into chambers. 

All the beavers of a community do not co-operate 
in the fabrication of houses for the common use of the 
whole. Those who are to live towether in the samc hut, 
labour together in its construction, and the only affair 
in which all seem to have a joint interest, and upon 
which they labour in concert, is the dam, as this is 
desioned to kéep a sufficient depth of water around all 
the habitations. - | 

In situations where the beaver is frequently disturbed 
and pursued, all its singular habits are relinquished, 
and its mode of living changed to suit the nature of 
circumstances, and this occurs even in different parts of 
the same rivers. Instead of building dams and houses, 
its only residence is then in the banks of the stream, 
where it is. now forced to make a more extensive exca- 
vation, and be content to adopt the manners of a musk- 
rat. More sagacity is displayed by the beaver in thus 
accommodating itself to circumstances, than in any other 
action it performs. Such is the caution which it exercises 
to guard against detection, that were it not for the re- 
moval of small trees, the stumps of which indicate the 
sort of animal by which they have been cut down, the 
presence of the beaver would not be suspected in the 
vicinity. All excursions for the sake of procuring food 


are made late at night, and if it pass from one hole to 


another during the day time, it swims so far under water 
as not to excite the least suspicion of the presence of such 
a voyager. On many parts of the Mississippi and Mis- 
souri, where the beaver formerly built houses according 
to the mode above described, no. such works are at pre- 
sent to be found, although beavers are still to be trapped 
in those localities. . 

nese animals also have excavations in the adjacent 
banks, at rather reeular distances from each other, which 
have been called washes. ‘These excavations are so eil- 
lareed within, that the beaver can raise his head above 
water in order to breathe without being seen, and when 
disturbed at their huts, they immediately make way under 
water to these washes. : 

The beaver feeds principally upon the bark of the 
aspen, willow, birch, poplar, ‘and_ occasionally the alder, 
but it rarely resorts to the pine tribe, unless from severe 
necessity. They provide a stock of wood from the trees 
mentioned,. during the summer season, and place it in 
the water opposite the entrance to their houses. They 
also depend in a great degree upon the large roots (of 
the nuphar lutewm) which grow at the bottom of. the 
lakes, ponds, and rivers, and may be procured at all 
seasons. —_ : >. | 

The number of young produced by the beaver at a 
litter is from two to five. ‘The young beavers whine in 
such a manner as closely to imitate the cry of a child. 
Like the young of most other animals they are very play- 
ful, and their movements are peculiarly interesting, as 


1833] 


may be seen by the following anecdote, related in the 
narrative of Capt. Franklin’s perilous journey to the 
shores of the Arctic Sea :—‘ One day a gentleman, long 
resident in the Hudson's Bay country, espied five young 
beavers sporting in the water, leaping upon the trunk of 
a tree, pushing one another off, and playing a thousand 
interesting tricks. He approached softly, under cover of 
the bushes, and prepared to fire on the unsuspecting 
creatures, but a nearer approach discovered to him such 
a similitude betwixt their gestures and the infantile 
caresses of his own children, that he threw aside his gun 
and left them unmolested.” 

The beaver swims to considerable distances under 
water, but cannot remain for a Jong time without coming 
to the surface for air. They are therefore caught with 
preater ease, as they must cither take refuge in their 
vaults or washes in the bank, or seek their huts again for 
the sake of getting breath. ‘They usually, when disturbed, 
fly from the huts to these vaults, which, although not 
so exposed to observation as their houses, are yet dlis- 
covered with sufficient ease, and allow the occupant to be 
more readily captured than if he had remained in the 
ordinary habitation. ™ 

To capture beavers residing on a small river. or creek, 
the Indians find it necessary to stake the stream across to 
prevent the animals from escaping, and then they try to 
ascertain where the vaults or washes in the banks are 
situated. ‘This can only be done by those who are very 
experienced in such explorations. The hunt takes place 
in winter, because the animal's fur is then in the best order. 
The hunter is furnished with an ice-chisel lashed to a 
handle four or five feet in length; with this instrument 
he strikes against the ice as he goes along the edge of 
the banks. ‘The sound produced by the blow informs 
him when he is opposite to one of these vaults. When 
one is discovered, a hole is cut through the ice of suff 
cient size to admit a full-crown beaver, and the search Is 
continued until as many of the places of retreat are’ dis- 
covered as possible. During the time the most expert 
hunters are’ thus occupied, the others with the women 
are busy in breaking into the beaver-houses, which, as 
may be supposed from what has been already stated, is 
a task of some difficulty. The beavers, alarmed at the 
invasion of their dwelling, take to the water and swim 
with surprising swiftness to their retreats in the banks, 
but their’ entrance is betrayed to the hunters watching 
the holes in the ice, by the motion and discolouration of 
the water. The entrance is instantly closed with stakes 
of wood, ‘and the beaver, instead of finding shelter in his. 
cave, is made prisoner and destroyed. The hunter then 
pulls the animal out, if within reach, by the introduction 
of his hand and arm, or by a hook designed for this use, 
fastened to along handle. Beaver-houses found in lakes 
or other:standing waters offer an easier prey to the hun- 
ters, as there is no occasion for staking the water across. 

The number of beavers killed in the northern parts of 
‘Ameticd is exceedingly great, even-at the preseut tnne, 
after the fur trade has been carried:on for so many years, 
and the most’ indiscritninate warfare waged uninter- 
ruptedly against: the species. In the year .1820, sixty 
thousand beaver skins were ‘sold by’ the Hudson’s Bay 

Company alone. ‘ - . 

It is asubject of regret that an animal so valuable and 
prolific should be hunted ina manner tending so evidently 
to the extermination of the species, when a little care and 
‘management on the part of those interested might pre- 
-veut unnecessary destruction, and‘ increase the sources 

of their revenue. “ae. as 
_. In a few years, comparatively speaking, the beaver 
has been exterminated in all the Atlantic and in the 
Western states, as far as the middle and upper waters of 
the Missouri; while in the Hudson’s Bay possessions 


they are becoming annually more scarce, and the race 


- will. eventually be extinguished throughout the whole 
- continent. . ® | ‘ 


= = = 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


his pipe alone. 


wildly, and attempted to escape ; 


13l 


The Indians inhabiting the countries watered by the 
tributaries of the Missouri and Mississippi, take tlie bea- 
vers pruicipally by trapping, and are e-enerally supphed 
with steel traps by the traders, who do not sell, but lend 
or hire them, in order to keep the Indians dependent 
upon themselves, and also to lay claim to the furs which 
they may procure. The business of trapping requires 


great experierice and caution, as the senses of the beaver 


are very keen, and enable him to detect the recent pre- 
sence of the hunter by the slightest traces. It is neces- 
sary that the hands should be washed clean before the 
trap is handled and baited, and that every precaution 
should be employed to elude the vigilance of the animal. 
The bait which is used to entice the beavers 1s prepared 
from the substance called castor (castoreum) obtained 
from the elandulous pouches of the male animal, which 
contain sometimes from two to three ounces. 

Durine the winter season the beaver becomes very 
fat, and its flesh is esteemed by the hunters to be excel- 
lent food. But those occasionally caught in the summer 
are thin, and unfit for the table. ‘They lead so wan- 
dering a life at this season, and are so much exhausted 
by the collection of materials for building, or the winter's 
stock of provision, as well as by suckling their young, as 
to be generally at that time ina very poor condition. 
Their fur during the summer is of little value, and it 1s 
only in winter that it is to be obtained in that state which 
renders it so desirable to the fur-traders. 


Snake-Charmers.—Our account of the power supposed 
to be possessed by persons in the art of charming snakes, 
gave the best evidence we could collect upon the subject. 
The following communication would imply that the suspi- 
cions of trick in this curious process are unfounded. The 
writer says he received the narrative from a gentleman of 
high station in the Honourable Company's Civil Service at 
Madras—a man of undoubted veracity. “ One morning, as 
I sat at breakfast, I heard a loud noise and shouting amongst 
iny palenkeen-bearers. On inquiry, 1 iecaimed that they 
had seen a large hooded snake (Cobra cupella), and 
were trying to kill it. I immediately went out, and saw 
the snake climbing up a very high green mound, whietice 
it escaped into a hole in an old wall of an ancient iortifi- 
cation: the men were armed with their sticks, which they 
always carry in their hands, and had attempted ‘Im vain to 
kill the reptile, which had eluded their pursuit, aid in lis 
hole he had coiled himself up secure; whilst we could sce 
his bright eyes shining. I had often desired to ascertain the 
truth of the report, as to the effect of music upon snakes: I 
therefore inquired for a snake-catcher. I was told there was 
no person of the kind in the village; but after a little in 
quiry I heard there was one in a village distant three nuiles. 
I accordingly sent for him, keeping a strict watch over the 
snake, which never attempted to escape whilst we, his eue- 
miés, were in sight. About an hour elapsed when my imes- 
senger returned, bringing a snake-catcher. This man wore 
no covering on his head, nor any on his person, excepting a 
small piece. of cloth round his loms: he had in his hands 
two baskets, one containing tame snakes—one empty : these 
and his musical pipe were the only things lie had with him. 
I made the snake-catcher lean his two baskets on tue 
eround at some distance, while he ascended the mound with 
He began to play: at the sound of music 
the snake came gradually and slowly out of his hole. When 
he was entirely within reach, the snake-catcher seized him 
dexterously by the tail, and held him thus at arm's length ; 
whilst the snake, enraged, darted ls head’in all directions 
—but in vain: thus suspended, he has not the power to 
round himself so as to seize hold of ‘his tormentor. He exr 
hausted himself in vain exertions; when the snake-catcher 
descended the bank, dropped him into the empty basket, 
and closed the lid: he then begah to play, and after a short 
time, raising the lid of the basket, the snake darted about 
the lid was shut down 
again quickly, the music always playing. This was repeated 
two or three times; and in a very short interval, ‘the lid 
being raised, the snake sat on his tail, opened his hood, and 
daneed quite as quietly as the tame snakes: in the other . 
basket ; nor did he again attempt an escape. .. This, having 


| witnessed with my own eyes, I can assert as afact.” 
a = ° 14 . ome S F c° 


be. 


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rik PENNY MAGAZINE. 
LINCOLN CATHEDRAL. 


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are those that were erected 


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lower portion of 
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oreater part of the central tower 


gius, although in p 


The 
port 


39 the 
; but it was rebuilt by the famous Robert 


or Greathead, one of the most learned per- 


Remi 


oe 


a prelate of extraordinary piety, 
o 


distinguished ‘by the title of Saint. 


as it yet remains, is the work of that bishop. The next 
ch. In 12 


oldest parts of the building r 
towards the end of the twelfth century, by Bishop Hugh 


de Grenoble, 


popularly 
The east side of the central transept is considered to be 


a still remainin 


mortar on his own shoulders for the use of the masons. 
ev on the} Hu 


quake which happened in 1185 had thrown down a 


great part of the work of St. Remi 
undertook to restore the cathed 


original splendour. 
are told by Matthew Pa 


greatly enlarged. The 


cathedral of St. 
fell down 





[ West Front of Lincoln Cathedral. ] 
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A church was built here so 


Soon after this, namely, 


, another see was established 


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1833.] — 


sonages of that era, who was then bishop of the diocese. 
Bishop Grostete is one of those cultivators of physical 
science in the dark ages to whom is ascribed the fabri- 
cation of a brazen head, which is said to have been able 
to speak as if it had had life. A similar fable is related of 
Albertus Magnus and our other illustrious countryman 
Roger Bacon. ‘To the tower rebuilt by Grostete, Bishop 
D’Alderly, who governed the see from 1300 to 1319, 
ndded a lofty spire of wood, which remained till it was 
blown down by a tempest in 1547, ‘The same prelate 
is supposed to have built the two western towers, which 
he also surmounted with wooden spires. ‘They were 
taken down by the Dean and Chapter in 1808. The 
person by whom the remaining parts of the fabric were 
principally erected, was John Welbourne, who was 
treasurer of the cathedral from 1351 to 1381. The upper 
part of the south end of the great transept, the stalls of 
the choir, and the statues and windows above the western 
entrances, are ascribed to him. Since his time no 
considerable additions have been made to the: build- 
ing; but it has frequently undergone extensive repairs. 
Like many of our other cathedrals, the Minster, .as it is 
commonly called, of Lincoln was subjected, during the 
civil wars, and the existence of the commonwealth, to 
the most wanton desecration and injury. 

The Cathedral of Lincoln stands upon ground of 
considerable elevation, and, overlooking a flat country, 
may be seen from the distance of twenty miles. Fuller 
remarks that its floor is higher than the roofs of most 
other churches. It is built in the usual form of a cross, 
with this peculiarity however, that besides the great 
transept in the centre, it has also shorter transepts both 
at the east and the west end. A building, called the 
cloisters, issues from the north wall, and to the extre- 
mity of this is attached the chapter-house, a circular 
structure, surrounded by deep ‘buttresses, and sur- 
mounted by a pyramidal roof. ‘The dimensions of the 
cathedral are very great, the whole length. of the interior 
being 470 feet. ‘The western front is 174 feet wide, 
and the length of the great transept is 220 feet in the 
interior. Its width is 63 feet, and its height 74. The 
chapter-house is above. 60 feet in diameter, the roof 
being supported by a single cluster of columns in the 
centre. ‘I'he circumference of this room is divided into 
ten compartments, or sides, one.of which is occupied by 
the door, and the other nine by windows. 

The most imposing exterior part of the cathedral is 
the west front.’ It has’been preferred by some eminent 
judges to any thing in York Minster. ‘The centre of the 
under portion of it is occupied by a large and deep 
door-way, leading:into the nave,.on both sides of which 
are humbler entrances into the.aisles. Above these is a 
facade, richly ornamented with windows, niches, and 
statues. Groups of turrets crown the extremities, and 
two towers, rising to the height ot 206 feet, surmount 
the whole. The great central tower is 262 feet in 
height; and pinnacles shoot from each corner both of 
it and of the western towers. Similar ornaments rise 
above each buttress along the whole extent of the nave 
and choir. . 

The Cathedral of Lincoln was in old times celebrated 
for the extraordinary splendour of its shrines, and other 
decorations; but the reformation stripped it of all this 
wealth. Down to a much later period, however, it was 
crowded with ancient tombs, many of them curious for 
their rich sculpture, others highly interesting on account 
of those whose remains they contained, and of whom 
they were memorials. ‘They were, however, nearly all 
destroyed in the time of the commonwealth. When the 
storm of the civil wars was felt to be approaching, Sir 
William Duedale, in 1641, proceeded to copy all the 
epitaphs he could find in Lincoln and other cathedrals, 
“to the end,” as he says in his Life, “‘ that the memory 
of them, in case of that destruction then imminent, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


133 


micht be preserved for future and better times:” and in 
the second volume of Peck’s Desiderata Gulioa is wiveh 
an account of one hundred and sixty-three mamta 
inscriptions, as they stood in this cathedral in the year 
mentioned (“‘ most of which,” it is affirmed, “ were soon 


after torn up, or otherwise defaced”), collected by 


Robert Sanderson, who afterwards became bishop of 
this see, and corrected by Dugdale’s Survey. 


DESCRIPTION OF SICILY. 


‘Tue beautiful and fertile island of Sicily, in the Medi- 


terranean, occupies a surface of about 10,642 British 
square miles, and has a population of 1,787,771 inha- 
bitants; being in the proportion of 168 to each square 
mile.: Its population is said to have been much greater 
in ancient times, but it is now considerably more than it 
was fifty years ago, having been 1,123,163 in the year 
1770; and 1,619,305 in the year 1798. 

sicily was formerly the granary of ancient. Rome, and 


it has still capabilities of feeding a population very far 


exceeding its own, if its agriculture were not depressed 
and shackled by bad husbandry and erroneous regula- 
tions. Artificial meadows are unknown; so are pota- 
toes, turnips, beets, and other green crops; unless when 
planted with beans or peas, the ground is constantly 
cropped with corn, with intervals of one or two years’ 
fallow or wild pasture. The soil, though badly cleaned 
and manured, yields upon an average eight for one, 
in some districts sixteen for one, and in some few, even 
thirty-two for one. The land is let in large tracts to 
companies of farmers, or rather shepherds, some of them 
proprietors of ten or twelve thousand sheep. ‘The diffe- 
rent flocks feed together, and once a year an account is 
taken of them, the result of which is afterwards entered 
in a book, where each of the proprietors is debited and 
credited with his share of the proceeds and ‘expenses, in 
proportion to his number of sheep, and credited with 
the proceeds ofthe milk converted into cheese, of the 


-butter-milk, of the wool, and of the rent of a portion of 
the land let to. under-tenants. 


There are in Sicily many well cultivated vineyards ; 
and the wine of Milazzo, of Syracuse, of Avola, and 
Vittoria vo to Italy. That of Marsala is exported to all 
parts of the world, and is largely consumed in England. 
Hemp is also grown; but corn is the main produce of 
the island, and it is received in certain public magazines 
free of charge, which in some parts of the island are 
rather excavations into calcareous rocks, or holes in the 
eround, shaped like a bottle, walled up and made water- 
proof, containing each about 1600 English bushels of 
corn. The receipt of the caricatore, or keeper of the 
magazine, being a transferable stock, is the object of 
some gambling on the public exchanges of Palermo, 
Messina, and Catania, the speculations being grounded 
on the expected rise or fall of corn. So long has corn 
been preserved by these means, that it has been found 
perfectly good after the lapse of acentury. ‘The olive 
crows to a larger size in Sicily than on the continent of 
Italy, and attains a greater age, there being evidence of 
trees having reached the age of seven or cight centuries. 
The peasants respect the olive, and cannot bear that they 
should be destroyed, yet they take no care of them, and 
the oil they makeis, in general, only fit for soap-boilers. 
The pistachio nut is cultivated here, as well asa large sort 
of beans, which answer the purpose of potatoes, and 
forming a considerable part of the food of both men 
and animals. ‘The Sicilian honey is in much estimation, 
and owing to the great consumption of wax in churches, 
the proceeds of bee-hives form a valuable item in hus- 
bandry. Some cotton is grown about Terranova and 
Catania; and these are the principal natural resources 
of the country. 

The chief town in Sicily is Palermo, containing 


i 


“134 


about 200,000 inhabitants. 
pieces of lava, with the addition of side-walks, upon 
which the tradespeople, such as shoemakers, tailors, &c. 
carry on their respective trades out of doors. ‘There is 
a beautiful public garden in the town, with a fine view 
of the sea on one side, and on the other of the moun- 
tains which enclose the nook of level land, called the 
Conca d’Oro, or Golden Shell, in which Palermo is 
situated ; and the fore-ground of which is occupied by 
fragrant groves of acacias and of orange-trees. It is 
overspread with villages and farms, and country houses, 
where people of fortune reside during the month of May, 
and again during part of September and October, when 
the rainy season is over. ‘Phere is a school, the scuola 
normale, at Palermo, composed of no fewer than nine 
hundred and forty boys, from the age of six to that of 
fourteen. ‘The mode of life of the higher ranks differs 
little from that of the Neapolitans. ‘They rise very late, 
take a walk, dine between three and four, drive or walk 
about the sea-side every evening; then to the opera; 
then to the card-table at night; then to bed at day- 
break. They take no pleasure in agriculture, and never 
visit their landed estates in the provinces. ‘The country 
houses, where they spend a few weeks in spring and 
autumn, being all in the neighbourhood, they live there 
exactly as in town. Their conversazionz are just the 
same as in Italy; people meet to play cards and eat ice, 
but converse very little. A man-servant at Palermo 
receives three carlint a day (thirteen pence sterline), 
with his board and livery; a labourer from three to 
four carlini a day, and finds his own food: but provisions 
are very cheap. Female servants are procured with dif- 
ficulty. Land in this neighbourhood is let at about four 
‘per cent. on its estimated value. ‘The farmers are said 
to be very ignorant, and to keep their accounts by means 
of marks or tallies. ‘The paternal lands of noble families 
are entailed, and cannot be sold without special leave of 
the king, but purchased land may. 

Messina has suffered severely from earthquakes, and 
was completely demolished in 1783, since which it has 
had the advantage of new and regular buildings. Its 
population is now about 70,000. Its fine quay extends 
more than a mile along the port, anda rocky and sandy 
head-land, projecting circularly, forms a deep, spacious, 
and tranquil harbour, accessible nearly’ at all times, 
notwithstanding the proximity of Scylla and Charybdis. 
Education is said to be much neglected at Messina; 
and the nobility do not in general reside there. It is, 
in short, neither fashionable, nor learned, nor rich. 

Among the other towns are Syracuse, abounding 
with antiquities, the remains of the ancient city of that 
lame, and Catania, in the immediate neighbourhood of 
Mount Etna, which has very frequently overwhelmed it 
by eruptions. At every such convulsion Catania has been 
more or less-injured; but it has thrice been completely 
overturued or burnt down, and its inhabitants wholly or 
in part swallowed up, 'viz."‘once in the twelfth century, 
and twice in’ the’ seventeenth." Of Mount Etna, we 
must give an account on another occasion. Those who 
wish for a more circumstantial description of Sicily, 


should consult Brydone and Lukie’s Tours, and espe-. 


this account is chiefly ‘compiled. 
= watt 7 y if : me. eo¢?e " 


’ =“ 


- THE LIVING STATUE. 


cially Simond’s ‘Travels in Italy and Sicily, from which 


Cr a ie 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


It is paved with large flat 


[Apri 6 


The patient, whose name was’ Simorre, was born at: 


Mirepoix, in the department of Arriége, on the 28th of 
October, 1752; he entered the army at the age of fifteen, 
and served for twenty-one years in the regiment of Berry, 
Where he reached the rank of captain.. He was in the 
three Corsican campaigns, and durmg the war contracted 
the seeds of his disease by bivouacking on a cold and 
marsliy soil. He first suffered from shooting pains in 
the great toes and akles, alternating with inflammation 
of the eyes; and in 1785 he could no longer walk with- 
out assistance. In the following year all his jomts were 
affected at once, and the anchylosis made most alarming 
progress. Ie was obliged to quit the service, and retired 
to Metz. He long struggled with fortitude against his 
disease ; his limbs were growing stiff, and in spite of his 
sufferings he forcibly endeavoured to move them. His 
arms and his head: underwent the lot of his feet and 
knees ; the whole body became inflexible ; even the 
lower jaw, which in other persons has remained move- 
able, became fixed like the other joints. -Simorre, to 
use his own expression, was then no more than a living 
corpse. He might, indeed, says M. Percy, have been 
considered comparatively happy in this unfortunate situ- 
ation, had he had the insensibility of a real corpse. “But 
far from enjoying this melancholy repose he suffered the 
most excruciating pain. He passed four months in an 
easy-chair, as it was not possible to get him into. bed. 
His posture in the chair is that of his skeleton, which is 
still preserved at Paris, for it was at this period that 
his joints became entirely useless. He was then placed 
in his bed, where he passed two years without sleeping, 
for as soon as he closed his eyes his limbs were agitated 
by the most violent startings. Opium did not relieve 
him. In 1792 the joints, which had been swelled, began 
to sink ; and the pain, which Simorre had borne with the 
dignity of a stoic, was lessened in the same proportion. 
He’ could now be moved without causing him much 
pain, and he was lifted up in one solid piece when it 
was necessary to make his bed; this, however, was only 
done once a month, and care was taken not to efface the 
hollow in which his body lay, as it would have been so 
painful to him to make another. . : . 
By examining the skeleton it will be seen that the 
right.elbow was below the level of the trunk, that -the 
spine was rather curved, and the pelvis raised in front— 
and that many precautions were requisite to prevent the 
weight of the body from resting on one part more than” 
another. The legs formed an acute angle-with the 
thighs, and the arms .were nearly at right angles to the 
trunk. ‘Ihe fore-arms were bent upon the cliest, and 
the wrists continually pressed upon it. ‘The night hand 
was closed, and the left open. ‘The fingers were separated, 
and anchylosed in that position; they were terminated by 
a nailor rather ahorn about four inches long, and the same 
breadth; this was also the case in the toes.: As he could 
not move his jaw he. was obliged to suck in wine and 
soup through his teeth. ‘Two of his upper incisors were 
drawn, which enabled’him to swallow more solid food, 
and to speak with greater ease. He was fed with minced 
meat, broths, and steeped bread; a reed was used to 
enable him to drink. — -t~ of 
Though his condition was now improved, Simorre was 
yet in a state of continual suffering ; he could not sleep 
for more than a quarter of au hour at once; but. he was 
contented with his lot, and consoled himself with joyous 
sallies and humorous songs: for several successive years 
he printed an almanac of songs written at his dictation ; 


| 


and his indigence was alleviated by the sale of this little — 


work. His-songs breathed the soul of gaiety; and he 
painted his condition in them in such a manner as at once 
to excite compassion and laughter. ‘The muscles of his 


} 


| 


| 


face had acquired an’éxtraordinary degree of mobility, — 


being unceéasingly in action, partly in order to supply 


J the want of géstures in his conversation, and partly. to 


| 


1833.] > 


drive away insects by wrinkling up his skin. Simorre 
had a fine face, and a physiognemy full of hilarity and 
expression ; his rich black hair covered a broad forehead 
which was bounded by his thick and arched eyebrows ; 
he had an aquiline nose, and handsome eyes. He ter- 
minated his painful career in 1802, at the age of fifty. 
The approach of death did not shake the fortitude of 
which he had givenso many proofs for twelve years ; the 
serenity of his soul remained untroubled. ‘The cheer- 
fulness of this man wider sucha severe affliction offers 
all encouraging example both to those who suffer disease 
and pain, and those who are comparatively free from the 
heavier evils of mortality. ‘There is no evil which cannot 
be made lighter by fortitude and resignation ;—and too 
often imaginary calamities, or false apprehensions, pro- 
duce more disquietude in the gloomy and impatient mind 
than even poor Simorre endured under his extraordinary 
deprivation. - 


Rational Amusement.—The love of literature has prevailed 
from very early times among the inhabitants of the remote 
island of Iceland. There, the way in which the evenings of 
their long winter are spent, furnishes a most agreeable con- 
trast to the miserable pot-house debauchery which fills up 
the leisure of too many uncultivated Englishmen, and proves 
the value of well-regulated’ knowledge, as an auxiliary to 
virtue. A distinguished traveller, who spent a winter in 
Iceland, has described a winter evening in an Icelandic 
family, as rendered instructive and pleasing in the highest 
degree, by the prevailing love of useful knowledge among all 
ranks. As-soon as the evening shutsin, the family assemble, 
master and mistress, children and servants. Ihey all take 
their work in thei hands, except one wno acts as reader. 
Though they have very few printed books, numbers write 
excellently and copy out the numerous histories of their own 
island. The reader is frequently interrupted bythe head of 
the family, or some of the more intelligent members, who 
niake remarks and propose questions to exercise the inge- 
nuity of the’ children or the servants. In this way the minds 
of all are improved in such a degree, “that,” says my infor- 
mant, ‘I have frequently been astonished at the familiarity 
with which many of these self-taught peasants have discoursed 
on subjects, which, in other countries, we should expect to 
hear discussed by those only who have devoted their lives 
to the study of science.’ Let me not omit to add, that 
the evening thus rationally and virtuously begun, is, by 
these well-instructed people, closed with an act of family 
devotion. ‘ 


{From an excellent little work just published, ‘ Bullar’s Hints 
and Cautions in the Pursuit of General Knowledge, | 


The Capeln.—The shell-fish shops of London. have 
_lately exhibited an article of food which was previously httle 
known in England—the dried capelin. “Asa relish for the 
breakfast-table, this production of the coasts of Newfound- 
land and Labrador is likely to become extensively used. A 
correspondent sends us the following notice of the fish; ex-. 
tracted from a ‘ Voyage in H. M. S. ship Rosamond to 


Newfoundland, by Lieut. E. Chappell, R.N.1818: “The']’ 


cod are taken by hooks, baited either with capelin or her- 
rings. The latter is a kind of fish well known in Europe: 
but the capelin seems to be peculiar to the coasts of New- 
foundland and Labrador. As they are equally plentiful 
with the cod in those countries, and are, as a bait, so essen- 
tially necessary towards obtaining the latter, a short account 
of them may-not be unacceptable to the reader, particularly 
as these fish have been strangely, overlooked by the most 
distinguished naturalists. OV 4 die 
“The capelin is a small and delicate species of. fish, greatly 
resembling the smelt. It visits the shores we are describing 
about the months of August and September, for the evident 
purpose of depositing its spawn upon the sandy beaches. 
At such times; the swarms of these fish are so numerous 
that they darken the surface of the sea for miles in ex- 
tent, whilst the ‘cod prey upon them with the utmost 
voracity. The manner of the capelin’s depositing its 
spawn is one of: the most curious circumstances attending 
its natural history. The male fishes are somewhat larger 
than the female, and are provided also with a sort of 


ridge, projecting on each side of the back-bones, similar to 


sf 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


135 


a 


the eaves. of a house, in which the female capelin 1s defi- 
cient. The latter, on approaching the beach to deposit 
its spawn, is attended by two male fishes, who huddle 
the female between them, until her whole body is con- 
cealed under the projecting ridges before mentioned, and 
only her head is visible. In this state they run, all three’ 
together, with gieat swiftness upon the sands; when the 
males, by some imperceptible inherent, power, compress the 
body of the female betwixt their own, so as to expel the 
spawn from an orifice near the tail. Having thus accom- 
plished its delivery, the three capelin separate; and pad- 
dling with their whole force through the shallow surf of the 
beach, generally succeed in regaining, once more, the bosom 
of the deep. oe & 

“Jtis an entertaining sight, while standing upon the shore, 
to observe myriads of these fishes, forsaking their own ele- 
ment, and running their bodies on the sand in all directions. 
Many of them find it totally impossible to return to the water, 
and thus the beaches of Labrador are frequently covered with 
dead capelin. They have so little timidity, that when the 
author has waded into the sea, amidst a shoal of them, he has 
taken two or three at a time in his hands. Upon these 
occasions, he was enabled to ascertain beyond a doubt, that 
the evacuation of the ‘spawn is caused by a compression on 
the part of the male; as, when thus taken in the hand, the 
female capelin invariably yielded up its spawn the instant 
that it received the slightest pressure from: the fingers. 
The capelin are sometimes salted and dried by the fisher- 
men, and afterwards toasted with butter for their break- 


fasts,” 





‘Quackery.—Dx. F , a physician of Montpelier, was in 
the habit of employing a very ingenious artifice. When he 
came to a town where he was not known, he pretended to 
have lost his dog, and ordered the public crier to offer, with 
beat of drum, a reward of twenty-five louis to.whoever 
should bring it to him. The crier took care to mention all 
the titles and academic honours of the doctor, as well as his 
place of residence. He soon became the talk of the town. 


“Do you know,” says one, “that a famous: physician has 


come here, a very clever fellow; he must be very rich, for 
he offers twenty-five louis for finding his dog.” The dog 
was not found, but patients were. 


New Way to get Practice —A poor physician, with plenty of 
knowledge and no practice, imparted his troubles to one of 
his friends. ‘“ Listen to my advice,” says the other, “‘ and fol- 
lowit. The Café de la Régence isin fashion; I play at chess 
there every day at two o clock, when the crowd is thickest; 


‘come there too; do not recognise me, and do not speak a 


word, but seem in areverie; take your coffee, and always give 
the waiter the money in a piece of rose-coloured paper 

leave the rest to me.’ The physician followed his advice, 
and his oddity was soon remarked. His kind friend said to 
the customers of the coffee-house, ** Gentlemen, do not think 
ill of this man because he seems ‘an oddity; he is a pro- 
found practitioner ; I have known him these fifteen years, 
and I could tell you of some wonderful cures that he has 
performed; but he thinks of nothing but his books, and 
never speaks eX¢éept to his patients, which has prevented me 
from becoming intimate with him; but if ever Iam obliged 
to keep my bed, he is the doctor for me.”’’ The-friend went 
on in this way, varying the style of his panegyric-from time, 
to time, till by degrees all his auditors consulted the doctor. 


‘with the rose-coloured paper, 





THE GIGANTIC CHESNUT TREE OF MOUNT, 
: ZETNA.. 4s 
Ons of the. most celebrated trees in the world is the 
reat chesnut tree of Mount Aitna, of which the following: 
wood-cut is a representation, as it existed in 1784; it 1s: 
known by the name of the Castagno de’ cento cavallt (the: 
Chesnut tree of a hundred horses). A tradition says,’ 
that Jane, queen of Arragon, on her voyage from Spain: 
to Naples, landed in Sicily, for the purpose of visiting 
Mount /Etna; and that being overtaken by a storm, she 
and her hundred attendants on horseback ‘found shelter 
within the enormous trunk of this ‘celebrated tree: © At 
any rate the name which it bears, whether the story be 
true or not, is exprossive enough of its prodigious: size, - 


My 
2 tee & a? 


136 


We extract the following passage, descriptive of this 
tree, from the article ‘“‘ Actua,’ in the Penny Cyclo- 
pedia :— | 

“ It appears to consist of five large and two smaller 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Arrit 6, 1833, 


“ This is said, by ¢he natives, to be ‘the oldest of 
trees. From the state of decay, it is impossible to have 
recourse to the usual mode of estimating the age of 
trees by counting the concentric rings of annual ¢rowth, 


trees, which, from the circumstance of the barks and | and therefore no exact numerical expression can be as- 


boughs being all outside, are considered to have been 
one trunk originally. ‘he largest trunk is thirty-eight 
feet in circumference, and the circuit of the whole five, 
measured just above the ground, is one hundred and 
sixty-three feet; it still bears rich foliage, and much 
small fruit, though the heart of the trunk is decayed, and 
a public road leads through it wide enough for two 
coaches to drive abreast. ‘In the middle cavity a hut: is 
built for the accommodation of those who collect and 


preserve the chesnuts. 





s)! wee} 
. =i ; iy s/, 
Ae ORT aN Es 


py 


signed to the antiquity of this individual. That it may. 
be some thousand years old is by no means improbable. 
Adanson examined in this manner a Baobab tree (Adan- 
sonia digitata) in Senegal, and inferred that it had 
attained the age of five thousand one hundred and fifty 
years ; and De Candolle considers it not improbable that 
the celebrated Taxodium of Chapultopec, in Mexico 
(Cupressus disticha, Linn.), which is one hundred and 
seventeen feet in circumference, may - be still move 
aged.” 





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Sy 


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¢ 
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[Great Chesnut Tree 


~ 7) ¢ 
1 . 


It is evident that if the great chesnut tree were in. 


reality acollection of trees, as it’ appears to be; the 
wonder of its size would atonce be at an end.’ Brydone, 
who visited it in 1770, says— ~ _ — 

‘ T own I was by no means struck with its appearance, 


as it does not seem to be one tree, but a bush of: five 


laree trees growing together. We complained to our 
guides of the imposition; when they unanimously as- 
sured us, that by the universal tradition, aud even testi- 
mony of the country, all these were once united in one 
stem; that their grandfathers remembered this, when it 
was looked upon as the glory of the forest, and visited 
from all quarters; that, for many years past it had been 
reduced to the venerable ruin we beheld. We began to 
examine it with more attention, and found that there was 
indeed an appearance as if these five trees had really 
been once united in one. The opening in the middle is 
at present prodigious; and it does indeed require faith to 
believe, that so vast a space was once occupied by solid 
timber. But there is no appearance’ of bark on the 





‘inside of any of the: stumps, nor on the 


a 


: hy 4 
CNTs 7, 
¢ 


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1} 
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& 


of Mount Astna.] 
; i OTe 


sides that are 
opposite to. one another.. I have since been told by the 
Canonico, Rectipero, an ingenicus ecclesiastic: of this 


‘place, that he was at. the expense of carrying up peasants 
with tools to. dig. round the Castagno de’ cento cavalli, 


and he-assures: me, upon his honour, that. he-found all 


‘these stems umted below ground in one root.” _- ; 


Houel, 1 his ‘ Voyage Pittoresque des Isles de Sicile, . 
tome li. p. 79, 1784, has given a plate of this tree, from 
which the above cut is copied. He appears to have 
taken great pains to ascertain the fact of there being only 
one trunk, and to have completely satisfied himself that 
the apparent divisions have been produced, partly by the 
decay of time, and partly by the peasants continually 
cutting out portions of the wood and bark for fuel. 








*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 
'” ‘Printed by Witutam Crowes. Stamfora Street, ~ 





é 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THER 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


fArrin 13, 1833. 





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{Ruins of Netley Abbey. ] 


ETLEY (or Nettley) Abbey, near Southampton, has 
long been celebrated as one of the most picturesque 
ruins in England. The proper name of the place ap- 
pears, as Leland has noted it in his Collectanea (vol. i. 
p. 69), to be Letteley, which has been Latinized into de 
Lato Loco (pleasant place), if it be not, as has been 
most commonly supposed, a corruption of this Latin de- 
signation. Another abbey in the neighbourhood was, in 
the same manner, called Beaulieu in French or Norman, 
and de Bello Loco in Latin. The founder of Netley 
Abbey is stated by Leland to have been Peter Roche, 
Bishop of Winchester, who died in 1238. This account, 
however, is inconsistent with that of Tanner, who, on 


Vou. Il, 


the authority of an ancient manuscript, gives 1239 as 
the date of the foundation. The first charter bears to be 
eranted by Henry III. in 1251. The abbey is there 
called Ecclesia Sancte Marie de loco Sancli Edwardi, . 
and, in conformity with this, another of the English 
names of the place is Edwardstow. ‘he monks of Net- 
ley Abbey belonged to the severe order of the Cistertians, 
and were originally brought from the neighbouring house 
of Beaulieu. , Hardly anything has been collected with re- 
card to the establishment for the first three huudred years 
after its foundation, except the names of a few of tlie 
abbots. At the dissolution it consisted of .an abbot and 


twelye monks, and its net revenue was returned at only 
of I 


138 


about £100, It appears, indeed, to have been always 
a humble and obscure establishment. In the valuation 
of Pope Nicholas 1V., made towards the end of the 
thirteenth century, it is set down as having only an in- 
come of £17. Nor did the riches of the good monks 
consist in their library. Leland found them possessed 
of only one book, which was a copy of Cicero’s ‘Treatise 
on Rhetoric. In 1537 the place was granted by the 
King to Sir William Paulet, afterwards the celebrated 
Marquis of Winchester, who, according to his own ac- 
count, was indebted for so much success in life to,‘ being 
a willow, not an oak.” From him, or his descendants, 
it passed to Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, the son 
of the Protector Somerset, who is said to have made it his 
residence. In alittle work, entitled ‘A Companion in 
a visit to Netley Abbey,’ printed in 1800, there js an 
extract given from the parish register of St. Michael's, 
Southampton, from which it is inferred that Queen Eliza- 
beth visited Lord Hertford in August, 15605 a circum- 
stance not noticed in the elaborate account of her Majesty's 
‘ Progresses,’ published by the late Mr. Nicholls. It 
states that she came from the Castle of Netley to South- 
ampton on the 13th, and went thence to Winchester on 
the 16th. The Abbey, it is supposed, at this time was 
known by the name of the Castle. About the end of the 
17th century it became the property, it is said, of a Mar- 
quis of Huntingdon ; but the Earl of Huntingdon must 
be meant, for there never was a marquis of that name. 
He has the credit of having commenced the desecration 
of the old building, by converting the nave of the church 
into a kitchen and offices. ‘There is also a strange story 
in which he is implicated, told by Browne Willis, the 
antiquary, and the memory of which is still preserved by 
tradition in the neighbourhood. The Earl, it is said, 
about the year 1700, or soon after, made a contract with 
a Mr.: Walter ‘Taylor, a builder of. Southampton, for the 
complete demolition of the abbey, it being intended by 
Taylor to employ the materials in erecting a town-house 
at Newport and other buildings. After making this 
avreement, however, Taylor dreamed, that as he was 
pulling down a particular window one of the stones 
forming the arch fell upon him and killed him. His 
dream impressed him so forcibly that he mentioned the 
circumstance to a friend (who is said to have been the 
father. of the well-known Dr. Isaac Watts), and in some 
perplexity asked his advice. His friend thought it would 
be his safest course to have nothing to do with the affair 
respecting which he had been so alarmingly forewarned, 
and endeavoured to persuade him to desist from his in- 
tention. Taylor, however, at last decided npon paying 
no attention to his dream; and accordingly began .his 
operations for the pulling down of the buiiding, in which, 
however, he had not proceeded far, when, as he was 
assisting in the work, the arch of one of the windows, 
but not the one he had dreamed of, which was the east 
window, still standing, fell upon his head and fractured 
his skull. It was thought at first that the wound would 
not prove mortal; but it was aggravated through the 
unskilfulness of the surgeon, ald the man died. It is 
very possible that the whole of this story may have 
originated from. the single incident of Taylor having met 
with his death in the manner he did; the added, circum- 
stances of the previous dream, &c. are not beyond the 
licence of embellishment of which’ ramour and _tradi- 
tion are accustomed to avail themselves in such cases. 
The accident which befel Taylor, however, being popu- 
larly attributed to the special interposition of Heaven, is 
said to have for the time saved the abbey from demo- 
lition. But the place soon after passed out of the 
possession of the Earls of Huntingdon, and has since 
been successively in that of various other families. It is, 
or was lately, the property of Lady Holland, the widow 
of Sir Nathaniel Holland, Bart. 
Netley Abbey is now a complete ruin, nothing re- 
maining except a part of the bare walls. It stands on 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


f[Aprin 13, 


the declivity of a gentle elevation, which rises from the 
bank of the Southampton water. The walk to it from 
the town of Southampton, of about three miles in length, 
is one of enchanting beauty, the surrounding landscape 
being rich in all the charms of water and woodland sce- 
nery. ‘The abbey itself is soembosomed among foliawe,— 
partly that of the oaks and other trees which rise in thick 
clumps around it, and some of which, springing up from 
the midst of the roofless walls, spread their waving 
branches over them, and partly that of the luxuriant ivy 
which clothes a great part of the grey stone in green,— 
that scarcely a fragment of it is visible till the visitor has 
got close beside it. ‘The site of the ruin, however, is one 
of considerable extent. Originally the buildings seem to 
have formed a quadrangular court or square; but scarcely 
any thing more is now to be seen, except the remains of 
the church or chapel which occupied one of the sides. 
It appears to have been about 200 feet in length, by 60 
11 breadth, and to have been crossed at the centre by a 
transept of 120 feet long. The walls ean still be dis- 
tinctly traced throughout the whole of this extent, except 
in the northern portion of the transept. ‘he roof, 
however, as we have said, no longer exists, having falleu 
in about thirty or forty years ago. Its fragments, many 
of them sculptured with armorial bearings and other 
devices, he scattered in heaps over the floor. Many 
broken columns still remain ; and there are also windows 
m different portions of the wall, the ornamental parts of 
which are more or less defaced, but which still retain 
enough of their original character to show that the build- 
ing must have been one of no common architectural 
beauty. ‘The east end is the most entire, and the great 
window here is of elegant proportions, and elaborately 
finished. Besides the church, various other portions 
of the abbey, such as the kitchen, the refectory, &c. 
are usually pointed out to strangers; but the con- 
jectures by which these apartments are identified must 
be considered as of -very doubtful authority. ‘The 
whole place appears to have been surrounded by a 
moat, of which traces are still discermble ; and two large 
ponds still remain at a short distance from the buildings, 
which no doubt used to supply fish to the pious inmates. 
‘Their retired and undisturbed waters now present an 
aspect of solitude which is extremely beautiful, overhung 
as they are by trees and underwood. About two hun- 
dred feet distance from the west end of the church, and 
nearer the water, is a small building, called Netley 
Castle, or Fort, which was erected by Henry VIII. - 

But the chief attraction of Netley Abbey must be 
understood to consist, not so inuch in any architectural 
macnificence of which it has to boast, as in the singular 
loveliness of the spot, and in the feelings inspired by the 
overthrown and desolate state of the seat of ancient piety. 
No mind having any imagination, or feeling for the 
picturesque and the poetical, but must deeply feel the 
effect of its lonely and mournful, yet exquisitely beau- 
tiful seclusion. At has accordingly been the theme of 
many verses, among which an elegy, written by Mr. 
George Keate, the author of the Account of the Pelew 
Islands and Prince Le Boo, was at one time much 
admired. A living poet, ‘the Reverend Mr. Bowles, has 
also addressed the ruin in some lines of considerable 
tenderness; which we shall subjoin :— 


¢ Fallen pile! I ask not what has been thy fate 5 
But when the weak winds, waited from the main, 
Through each lone arch, like spirits that complain, 
Come hollow to my ear, I meditate 
On this world’s passing pageant, and the lot | 
Of those who once might proudly, in their prime, 
Iave stood with giant port; till, bowed by time, 
Or injury, their ancient boast forgot, 

They might have sunk, like thee; though thus forlorn, 
They lit their heads, with venerable hairs 

Besprent, majestic yet, and asin scorn 

Of mortal vanities and short lived cares ; 

E’en so dost thou, lifting thy forehead grey, 

Smile at the tempest, and time’s sweeping sway.” 


1833. 


The Bible-—Sir W. Jones, a most accomplished scholar, 
who had made himself acquainted with eight and twenty 
languages, has left it on record, that amidst all his pursuits 
the study of the Sacred Volume had been his constant habit. 
Sir Isaac Newton, the greatest of mathematicians, was a 
diligent student of the Bible. Mr. Locke, a man of distin- 
euislied acuteness in the study of the Luman mind, wrote to 
recommend the study of the New Testament ; as having 
“ God for its author, salvation for its end, and truth unmixed 
with error, for its matter.’ Milton, the greatest of poets, 
evidently had his mind most deeply imbued with the study 
of the word of God. Boerhaave, eminent as a natural philo- 
sopher, spent the first hour of every day in meditation on the 
sacred pages. Here no man can say that he has not leisure. 
A most beneficent institution of our Creator has given us, for 
this duty, a seventh part of our time, one day in every woek, one 
whole year ont of every seven.—Bullar's Hints on the Pursurt 
of General Knowledge. 


Schools for Mechunics, &c.—The King of Bavaria issued 


a rescript in February last, directing the establisliment of 


this description of popular schools m every quarter of nis 
dominions, with the benevolent intention of.affording the 
humblest workman. an opportunity of receiving such instruc- 
tion as may fit him for,his calling. He perinits the districts 
to name the masters of these schools for his approval. In 
large towns the course of instruction will take a wider range 
and be given in ‘Colleges of Industry.’ 





The Sheep—heedlessness.—Cows and sheep possess much 
less of the instinctive apprehension of danger. than horses. 
In a marshy country it is by no means uncommon for cows 
to be bemired, or Jarred, as it is termed in the northern 
counties; and this is still more common with sheep, though 
so much lighter in weight. 

In mountainous and rocky-districts the sheep is by no 
means to be trusted in places of danger, having none or little 
of the instinct which enables the goat and the chamois to 
make their way amongst the steepest precipices. It is re- 
markable that even upon secing accidents befid their fellows 
they are not deterred from following heedlessly in the same 
track. The heedlessness of the animals in such cases, may 
probably arise from their being so much accustomed to follow 
others in the same track,—(a habit which causes a shecp- 
erazing district to be every-where intersected with sheep- 
paths, about a foot in breadth,)—and when the leacer falls over 
a precipice, the next follows in the same way, as Suwarrow's 
Russians marched into a trench till it was filled with their 
dead bodies. 








é 


ON THE PRODUCTION OF MANUSCRIPT BOOKS; 
AND) FVHE OCCUPATIONS OF THE MONKS IN 
FORMER TIMES. | 

JERE is scarcely any error so popular, yet so unfonnded, 

as that which invariably attributes unbounded indolence 

to the monastie orders of former days. ‘I’o them we 
owe the preservation of literature, both in the pains they 
took to perpetuate history by their labours in tran- 
scribing, and by their diligence in the education of youth. 
In the larger monasteries a chamber was almost always 
set apart for writing, allowing room in the same apart- 
ment for other quiet employments also. ‘The tran- 
scribers were superintended by the abbot, prior, sub-prior, 
and precentor of the convent, and were distinguished by 
the mame of Antiquarii. ‘These industrious persons 
were continuaily occupied in making new copies of old 
books, for the use of monasteries; and by this means 
many of our most valuable historical records were pre- 
served. ‘I'he learned Selden owed much of the informa- 
tion which he gave to the world, concerning the ancient 
dominion of the narrow seas, to monastic documents. 
The Anglo-Saxon Monks were most celebrated as 
writers, and were the originators of the small Roman 
letter used in modern times. The greatest delicacy and 
nicety were deeined essential in the transcribing of books, 
whether for the purposes of general instruction, or for the 
use of the convents themselves. Careless and illegible 
writing is therefore but seldom to be met with among 
the remains of monastic industry; and when erasures 
were made, they appear to have been done with the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


139 


utmost care and skill. For this purpose the Monks used 
pumice-stone ; and they were also provided with a punce- 
torium or awl, to make the dots, and with metal pens 
for writing, until after the seventh century, when quills 
were brought into-use for pens. Ink, composed of soot, 
or ivory-black with gum, was used upon the vellum, for 
paper was not introduced until the tenth century. Hence 
the beautiful distinctness, as well as durability, of very 
ancient manuscript books. Indeed, such an important 
art was writing in those days considered, that Du Cange 
enumerates as many as a hundred different styles of 
writing in vogue among the learned. 

With so many impediments to the multiplication of 
books as were attendant-upon their stow production in 
this manner, it is not a matter of surprise that the Monks 
enjoyed almost a monopoly of this kind of labour, as, in 
truth, they were the only body of men who could pro- 
perly conduct it. The expense of books was proverbially 
creat, and large estates were frequently set apart for the 
purpose of purchasing them. In addition to the cost of 
transcribing, the materials of which books were composed 
were sources of great expense.- The leaves were, in 
many instances, composed of purple vellum, for the pur- 
pose of showing off to more advantage letters of gold 
and silver. The binding was cften very gorgeous, 
although of a very rude construction. ‘The most pre- 
vailing sort of covering for books was a rough white 
sheep-skin, pasted on a wooden board, with immense 
bosses of brass; but the exterior of those intended for 
the church service was inlaid with gold, relics, or silver 
or ivory plates. Some books had leaden covers, and 
some had wooden leaves ; but, even so early as the time 
of Froissart, binding in velvet, with silver clasps and 
studs, bewan to be adopted in presents to any very exalted 
personage. Tluminating manuscripts was also another 
occupation of the Monks of the middle ages, although not 
confined to them, for the greatest painters of the day 
disdained not to contribute to these curnbrous and some- 
times confused decorations. ‘The art of correct drawing, 
and:a knowledge of perspective, cannot, however, be 
traced in the generality of the fantastic pictures by 
which illuminated books are adorned. Colouring and 
cilding appear to have been the chief points to which 
the attention of the illuminators was directed. The 
neutral tint was first laid on somewhat in the same mode 
as in the present day, some portions being left untouched 
in order to be afterwards embedded in gold and silver. 
The pictures represented different subjects, according to 
the nature of the book which they were intended to em- 
bellish. The title on the pages was formed of capital 
letters of gold and azure mixed. Illuminated pictures 
are of a dazzling brightness; the white predominating, 
which, not being an oil colour, reflects the rays of light, 
and does not absorb them. So much custom had the 
Monks in their labours of transcribing and illuminating, 
that they were sometimes obliged to introduce hired 
limners, although contrary to the monastic rule In gene- 
ral; but such aids were seldom resorted to, the Monks 
being usually the only labourers. ‘The invention of 
priuting diminished the importance and anmihilated the 
profits of writing; and, in 1460, thet of engraving 
superseded the art of illuminating. The last specimen 
of this latter practice is to be met with at Oxford, in the 
Lectionary, or Code of Lessons for the Year, composed - 
for Cardinal Wolsey. ‘The achievement of this work, 
so long after printing and engraving had become popular, 
evinces how reluctant that great and splendid prelate 
was to relinquish a mode of framing booxs, wiich was 
certainly calculated to give them, in the eyes of the vulgar, 
an attractive and costly character. Wluminating is sup- 
posed to have originated from the necessity of rendering 
the means of knowledge attractive firet to the senses, In 
those days of comparative darkness and ignorance. 

Besides transcribing and illuminating, the Monks 
excelled in sculpture and painting, turning, carpentry, 

6 2 


140 


jewellery, and goldsmith’s work. Thomas de Bamburgh, 
a monk, of Durham, was even employed to make two 
great warlike engines for the defence of the town of 
Berwick; and an astronomical clock, made by Light- 
foot, a monk, of Glastonbury, in 1325, is still preserved 
at Wells. Music, which Fuller, in his Church History, 
observes to “ have sung its own dirge at the Reforma- 
tion,” was sedulously cultivated in monastic institutions ; 
and the Monks skilled in that accomplishment went from 
monastery to monastery, in order to disseminate their 
instructions. 

Much might be said concerning the indefatigable 
attention paid by this class of men to the education of 
youth. ‘This was a department in which, according to 
the notions of the time, they eminently excelled. In 
compliance with the prevalent superstitions, the learnmg 
of the service and rule of their respective orders was, 
it is true, the first point to be accomplished in the in- 
struction of their pupils, the novices. ‘These individuals, 
most of whom entered young, were required to commit 
the Psalter to memory, without deviating from a single 
word in the orginal ; a painful exercise, which was the 
occupation of hours passed in the solitude of the cell. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Arai 13, 


was an object of incessant study, as well as French, 
which the Norman Conquest had introduced into com- 
mon use in this country. To these studies were added 
writing and accounts, and several of the mechanical 
arts, besides some initiation into the popular pastimes of 
the day, and hunting, which was deemed salutary to the 
health. Probably more attention was paid to dexterity 
in these arts and accomplishments, than to the actual 
culture of the understanding. The Monks, though pre- 
eminent in architecture, as well as in most of the arts of 
life, made but little firure in literature, considering the 
leisure and opportunities which they enjoyed. For this 
the routine-like nature of their existence may, in some 
degree, account. Nothing is so likely to damp the 
ardour of genius as a continual succession of formal 
observances, which dissipate the thoughts from any one 
great object. ‘The minds of these recluses were also 
narrowed by localities. Pent up from general society, 
and in a small sphere, the interests, and often the con- 
tentions which agitated their respective convents, became 
of paramount importance to them, and were mingled 
even with their historical records, with a degree of taste- 
less and absurd prolixity, which has much lessened the 


Latin, essential because the language of the Breviary, | value of the few original works which they composed. 








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[ Lion springing from Covert. 


THE LION, 


[The following are in continuation of the Sketches of a South- 
African Settler. ] : 


In our journey from Algoa Bay to our location of Glen 


Lynden, or Baviaan’s River, we had occasionally seen in | 


the distance herds of large game, chiefly of the antelope 
tribe; and we found our highland valley to be pretty 
well stocked with quageas, hartebeests, reeboks, rietboks, 
oribis, klipspringers, wild hogs, and a variety of smaller 
animals, But we had as yet seen none of the beasts of 


WARS WITH THE WILD BEASTS. 





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prey that inhabit the country, with the exception of one 
or two jackals, although we had once heard the gurr ot 
the Cape tiger (or leopard), and been serenaded nightly 
by the hungry howl of the hyena, almost all the way 
from the coast. We were not allowed, however, to 
continue long without a closer aequaintance with our 
neiehbours of the carnivorous class. The lion introduced 
himself, in a mode becoming his rank and character, a 
few nights after our arrival at Glen-Lynden. 

The serene weather with which we had heen favoured 


1833.] 


during our journey, was succeeded on the 3d of July. 


(the day after our first sabbath meeting) by a cold 
and wet evening. The night was extremely dark, and 
the rain fell so heavily that, in spite of the abundant sup- 
ply of dry firewood which we had luckily provided, it 
was not without difficulty that we could keep one large 
watch-fire burning. Having appointed our watch for the 
night (a service which all the male adults, masters as 
well as servants, agreed to undertake in rotation), we 
had retired to rest, and, excepting our sentinel, were all 
buried in sleep, when about midnight we were suddenly 
roused by the roar of a lion close to our tents. It was 
so loud and tremendous that fora moment I actually 
thought that a thunder cloud had broken close beside us. 
But the peculiar exprassion of the sound—the voice of 
fury as well as of power—instantly undeceived me; and 
instinctively snatching my loaded gun from the tent pole, 
I hurried out—fancying that the savage beast was about 
to break into our camp. Most of our men had sprung 
to their arms, and were hastening to the watch-fire, with 
a. similar apprehension. But all around was complete 
darkness; and scarcely two of us were agreed as to the 
quarter whence the voice had issued. ‘This uncertainty 
was occasioned partly, perhaps, by the peculiar mode this 
animal often has of placing his mouth near the ground 
when he roars, so that the voice rolls, as at were, like a 
breaker alone the earth; partly, also, to the eclio from 
a rock which rose abruptly on the opposite bank of 
the river; and, more than all, to the confusion of our 
senses in being thus hurriedly and fearfully aronsed 
from our slumbers. Had any one retained self-pos- 
session sufficient to have quietly noted our looks on 
this occasion, I suspect he wouhi have seen a laugh- 
able array of pale or startled visages. The reader who 
has only heard the roar of the lion at the Zoological 
Gardens, can have but a faint conception of the same 
animal’s yice in his state of freedom and. uncontrolled 
power. ‘Novelty in our case gave it double effect, on our 
thus hearing it for the first time in the heart of the wil- 
derness. Having fired several volleys in all directions 
round our encampment, we roused up the half-extin- 
guished fire to a blaze, and then flung the flaming brands 
among the surrounding trees and bushes. And this 
unwonted display probably daunted our grim visitor, for 
he gave us no further disturbance that night. 

A few days afterwards some of our people had a day- 
light interview with a lion—probably the same individual 
who had given us this boisterous greeting. ° They had 
gone a mile or two up the valley to cut reeds for thatch- 
ing the temporary huts which we proposed to erect by the 
combined labour of the party, and were busy with their 
sickles in the bed of the river, when, to their dismay, a 
huge lion rose up among the reeds, almost close beside 
them. He leaped upon the bank, and then turned round 
and ewazed steadfastly at them. One or two men who had 
owns, seized them hastily and began to load with ball. 
The rest, unarmed and helpless, stood petrified ; and had 
the lion been so disposed he might easily have made sad 
havock among them. He was, however, very civil—or, 
to speak more correctly, he was probably as much sur- 
prised as they were. After quietly gazing for a minute 
or two at the intruders on his wild domain, he turned 
about and retired, first slowly, and then, after he was 
some distance off, at a good round trot. ‘They prudently 
did not attempt to interfere with his retreat. 

After this, when we had moved our encampment 
farther up the valley, and had exchanged our tents for 
temporary reed-covered cabins, we were visited, during 
the winter and ensuing spring, several times by lions, but 
without our ever coming into actual conflict with them. 
On one of those occasions a lion and lioness had very 

nearly carried off, in a dark night, some of our horses, but 
were scared by a firebrand when within a few yards of their 
prey Itis worthy of remark, that the lion always prefers 


* 


© Se 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


VAL 


a horse to an ox when he has the choice. After we had 
got some Hottentots beside us, we rode out, after some 
of those alarms, to hunt these formidable visitors, but 
without being able to discover their coverts. 

The first actual rencontre occurred while I was absent 
from the settlement, on a visit to our district magistrate. 
The following were the circumstances, as detailed to me by 
the parties present. A horse was missing, belonging 
to Mr. George Rennie, a young farmer of our party 
(descended from the same family in cast Lothian as the 
celebrated engineer of that name) ; and, after some search, 
it was discovered by the foot-prints to have been killed by 
a lion. The boldest men of the settlement having assem- 
bled to give battle to the spoiler, he was traced without 
difficulty by the Hottentots to a secluded spot, about a mile 
or upwards from the place where he had seized his prey. 
He had carried it with him to devour it at his leisure, as 
is the usual practice of this powerful animal. On the 
approach of the hunters, the lion, after some little demur, 
retreated to a small thicket in a shallow ravine at no 
ereat distance. ‘The huntsmen followed cautiously, and 
having taken post on a height adjoining the ravine, 
oie volley after volley into the thicket. ‘This bom- 

ardment produced no perceptible effect ; the lion kept 
under covert and refused to give battle; only when the 
wolf-hounds were sent in to tease him, he drove them 
forth again with a savage growl, and a bloody scratch 
or two from his claws. At length, Mr. Rennie, the 
leader of the hunt, and aman of daring hardihood, losing 
patience at this fruitless proceeding, descended from the 
height, and approaching the thicket, threw several large 
stones into the midst of it. This rash bravado brought 
forth the lion. He sprung fiercely from his covert, and 
with another bound or two would probably have had our 
friend prostrate under his paw, but most fortunately at 
this critical moment, the attention of the savage beast 
was attracted by a favourite dog of Mr. Rennie’s, which 
rau boldly up to the lion and barked in his face. The 
poor dog was‘destroyed ina moment: a single blow 
from the lion’s paw rewarded his generous devotion 
with death. But that instant was sufficient to save his 
master. Mr. Rennie had instinctively sprung back a 
pace or two, and his comrades on the rock fired at once 
with effect. The lion fell dead upon the spot, several 
balls having passed through his body. 

The next serious rencontre that we had with the 
monarch of the wilderness occurred a considerable time 
afterwards, when the several families of our party had 
taken possession of their separate allotments, and our 
temporary encampment was broken up. I happened 
then to be residing with my family, and a few Hottentot 
servants, at a place to which, from the picturesque forms 
of the adjacent mountains, we had given the Scottish 
qame of Eildon. My next neighbour, at that time, 
was Captain Cameron, a Scotch officer who had lately 
come to occupy the farm immediately below me on the 
river. I had gone one evening down with another gen- 
tleman and two or three female relatives to drink tea 
with Captain Cameron’s family. The distance being 
scarcely four miles, we considered ourselves, in that thinly 
peopled country, next-door neighbours; and, as the 
weather was fine we agreed to ride home by moonlight 
—no lions having been seen or traced in the valley for 
nearly twelve months. We returned accordingly, jesting 
as we rode along about wild beasts and Caffers. That part 
of the valley we were passing through is very wild, and 
encumbered in several places with jungles and thickets 
of evergreens ; but we had no suspicion at the moment 
of what afterwards appeared to be the fact—that a lion 
was actually dogging us through the bushes the whole 
way home. Happily for us, however, he did not then 
show himself, nor give us any indication of his presence ; 
being probably somewhat scared by our number, and the 
white dresses of the ladies glancing in the moonlight, 


142 


About midnight, however, I was awakened by an 
unusual noise in my kraal, or cattle-fold, close behind 
my cabin. Looking out, I saw the whole of the horned 
cattle springing wildJy over the high thorn fence, and 
scampering round my hut. Fancying that a hyeena, 
which I had heard howling when I went to bed, had 
alarmed the animals by breaking into the kraal, I seized 
my gun, and sallied forth in my shirt to have a shot at 
it. Thouch the cloudless full moon shone with a brilliant 
licht (so bright in that fine climate that I have frequently 
read print by it), £ could discover no case tor the terror 
of the cattle, and after calling a Hottentot to shut them 
again into the kraal, I retired once more to rest. Next 
morning, Captain Cameron rode up to inform me that 
herdsmen had discovered by the traces in the path, that a 
large lion had followed us up the valley the preceding 
night ; and, upon further search, it was ascertained that 
this unwelcome visitant had actually been in my kraal 
the preceding night, and had carried off a couple of 
sheep. But as he appeared by the traces (which our 
Hottentots followed with wonderful dexterity) to have 
retreated with his prey to the mountains, we abandoned 
for the moment all idea of pursuing him. 

The lion was not disposed, however, to have done with 
us on such easy terms. He returned that very night, 
and killed my favourite riding-horse, little more than a 
hundred yards from the door of my cabin. I then con- 
sidered it full time to take prompt measures in self- 
defence; and sent a messenger round the location to 
call out the neighbours to hunt him, being assured by 
my Hottentots that, as he had only devoured a small 
portion of the horse, he would certainly be lurking in 
the immediate vicinity. The huntsmen speedily assem- 
bled, and, with the aid of the Hottentots, we soon dis- 
covered the lion in covert, about a mile from the spot. 
The scene that followed resembled very closely, in many 
varticulars, the adventure of Mr. George Rennie on the 
oceasion already described. ‘The lion, on this occasion 
also, refused to leave the covert. Mr. Rennie and his 
brother John, and another Scotchman, with three 
mulatto Hottentots, went into the jungle to attack him. 
He then sprung out in a fury, and gave battle to the 
assailants—struck down John Rennie, and placed his 
foot upon him, and looked round upon us most majesti- 
cally for a‘ few seconds, as if considering whether he 
should tear a few of us to pieces or not. Seeing us a 
numerous band (there were seventeen of us) he seemed 
to judge we were too many for him; and so, leaving 
our fallen friend with no further injury than the marks 
of his five claws about half an inch into his flesh, lie 
bounded from'the thicket, and retreated up Glen-Douglas 
towards the Caffer mountains. We pursued him hotly 
up the elen, and our wolf-hounds held him at bay under 
a mimosa tree till we intercepted his path, seized the 
heights around, and shot him dead, without again ven- 
turing within reach of his claws. He was a fine full 
erown lion of the yellow variety; and, in memorial 
of our African exploits, the skin and skull were sent 
as a small token of kindness and respect to Sir Walter 
Scott, and now form part of the ornaments of the 
lamented poet's armoury at Abbotsford. A more de- 
tailed account of this lion hunt may be found in ‘ The 
Library of Entertaining Knowledge ; Menageries, vol. I. 
page 162. 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—SEctTIon 6. 


Tue Seconpary Rocxs comprehend a great variety of 
different beds of stone, extending from the primary strata 
to the chalk, which forms the upper or most recent 
member of tle divison. ‘There are certain principal 
groups, which are divisible into subordinate beds, all 
distinguishable by marked peculiar characters, ‘They 
oecur in the tollowing descending order :— 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Apri 13, 


The Chalk Group. 

The Oolite Group. 

The Red Marl Group. 

The Coal Group. 

The Mountain Limestone Group. 
The Old Red Sandstone Group. 
The Grauwacke Gronp. 

We shall briefly describe the leading characters of 
each group, but in an ascending order, from the gran- 
wacke, a German local name for the principal rock 
among the lowest members of the secondary series, 
which we described in our last section as lying upon the 
primary strata. ‘This group occurs extensively in the 
hilly country of the south of Scotland, in Westmoreland, 
Wales, and Devonshire. The Old Red Sandstone Group 
is characterized by its containing a great number of beds 
composed of water-worn fraoments, and sandstone layers 
ofa fine grain, and by its being usually of a deep red co- 
lour. It contains very few organié¢ remains, but terrestrial 
plants and marine shells are sometimes fond in it. It 
is the principal rock in Herefordshire, hnt 1s not of very 
ereat extent in other parts of England ; it is estimated to 
be in England about 1500 feet thick. It must not be 
confounded with another red sandstone which covers a 
ereat extent of the midland and northern counties of 
Eneland, and which belongs to a more recent period, 
viz., the Red Marl Group. Above the old red sandstone 
comes an important suite of beds, the Mountain Lime- 
stone Group. ‘The limestone is usually very compact or 
crystalline, yielding in many places excellent marbles 
for chimney-pieces, &c. It contains a great variety of 
organic remains, consisting of corals and many species 
of zoophytes and other radiated animals, some species of 
crustacea, a few remains of fish, and a great variety of 
marine shells. It forms considerable mountain chains 
in the north of England, Derbyshire, and Somersetshire, 
and abounds in many places in valuable ores of lead ; 
it is estimated to have a thickness of 900 feet. Above 
this Jimestone comes the ¥mportant group containing 
our coal mines. As this group will form the snbject of 
a special article, we shall not say more about it at pre- 
sent than to remark, that it must have been produced 
under very different circumstances from the limestone 
which “it covers, for it rarely contains any marine 
remains, but a vast profusion of plants of many genera 
and species. ‘The united thickness of the Coal Group 
is, probably, not less than 1700 feet. The Red Marl 
Group consists of a number of beds of a red marly sand- 
stone, often variegated by stripes and patches of grey, 
blue, and white, which occupy a great extent of country 
in England; there is an almost uninterrupted line of it 
from Hartlepool, in the county of Durham, to Exeter, 
and it covers the greater part of Nottinghamshire, 
Warwickshire, Staffordshire, Shropshire, Worcestershire, 
and Cheshire. In the two last counties it contains 
valuable mines of common salt, and copious brine- 
springs of the same, and in other places great quantities 
of alabaster or plaster-stone. In this group are found 
considerable beds of limestone of a peculiar quality, from 
containing a large proportion of the earth, called mag- 
nesia. ‘The sandstones of the group contain very few 
orgaiic remains, but the limestones abound in those ot 
marine animals, amone which have been found the 
bones of gigantic amphibious reptiles like crocodiles. 
The group is estimated at not less than 2100 feet of 
thickness. ‘I'he Oolite Group is so called from the pre 
valence in it of « kind of Jimestone composed of small 
round grains, like the eggs in the roe of a fish, whence 
oolite, from two Greek words signifying egg and stone. 
It contains about twelve alternations of subordinate 
beds, or rather systems of beds, consisting of limestones 
of different qualities and of clays, their united thickness 
being about 2600 feet, of which 1100 are formed by 
two beds of clay of 500 and 600 feet each. ‘The whole 


1833.1 


group contains a vast abundance of animal remains, 
which are almost exclusively marine, consisting of nume- 
rous genera and species of the molluscous animals, crus- 
tacea, insects, echini, zoophytes, and skeletons of several 
species of gigantic reptiles analogous to the crocodile. 
The celebrated stones of Bath, Ketton, and Portland, and 
most of the best building stones of the middle and south 
of Kingland, are found in* this group, which covers 
a great part of the country that lies between a line 
drawn from the mouth of the river Tees to W atchet, on 
the south coast of the Bristol Channel, and another line 
drawn from Lynn in Norfolk, to Poole in Dorsetshire. 
The last or uppermost of the secondary rocks is the 
Chalk Group, which is separated from the Oolite Group 
by several beds of sands, clays, and sandstones, and 
including these, has been estimated to be 1900 feet 
thick. It is unnecessary to say any thine of the compo- 
sition of the principal member of the group, as it must 
be so familiar to all our readers. It covers a great 
extent of country, forming low hills and downs from 
Flamborough Head in Yorkshire to Weymouth, in a 
curvilinear sweep, the convexity directed to the S.E., 
and in many places E.8.E:, and S. of that line. The 
whole group abounds in organic remains of the same 
classes as those found in the Oolite Group below. 

It thus appears that the secondary rocks consist of an 
extensive series of strata, of limestones, sandstones, and 
clays, all of which contain either rounded fragments of 
pre-existing rocks or organic remains, or both; and 
each group, and all the subordinate members of the 
groups, are distinguishable by characters of creat con- 


stancy and certainty, derived from the peculiar nature of 


the included fossils. ‘They must all have been deposited 
in an horizontal position, but there are parts of them 
which have undergone greater or less disturbance, being 
often thrown into a vertical position, and broken, twisted, 
aud disturbed in the most extraordinary manner. Many 
of the disturbances of the lower groups took place prior 
to the deposition of the upper; for the latter are found 
lying in unconformable stratification on the ends of the 
former as represented in diagram No. 5, Section IV. 
(p. 87.) ‘They are traversed by veins or dykes, as they 
are often termed, of whinstone and other unstratified 
rocks, and there is usually ereat disturbance of the strata 
when these occur, the dykes are often of oreat magnitude, 
and the rock is frequently thrust in huge wedge-shaped 
masses, of miles in superficial dimensions and some hun- 
dred fect thick, between the regular strata. After the 
deposit of the secondary rocks a remarkable change took 
place, for all the strata that lie above the chalk have a 
totally different character from that rock and all below it. 
They have been classed together in one great division, 
and have been designated the Tertiary Rocks. Thus 
the whole series of strata, of which the crust of the globe 
1S composed, is divided into the Primary, the Secondary, 
aud the Tertiary. It is evident that at the time the 
secondary rocks were deposited, a great part of the pre- 
sent continent of Europe must have been considerably 
lower than the present level of the sea, that when the 
oldest or lowest members of the.series were forming, the 
summits of the mountain ridges of primary rocks rose as 
islands of different magnitudes from the bosom of the 
deep, that at several successive periods these islands 
were more elevated, and attained consequently a ereater 
superficial extent, the newer fornied strata occupying the 
lower levels. In the progress of this series of changes of 
the surface of the globe, when there were evidently occa- 
sional depressions of the land as well as elevations, there 
appear to have been formed basin-shaped cavities or 
troughs, not entirely cut off from communication with the 


Sea, and vast estuaries, in which the tertiary strata were | 


deposited. While the secondary strata stretch continu- 
ously for hundreds of leagues, the tertiary are found only 
in detached insulated spots of comparatively limited 
extent. 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 143 
have been vast inland fresh water lakes, for we find 
regularly Stratified deposits of great thickness full of 
organic remains, which exclusively belong to animals 
that lived in fresh water, and to terrestrial animals and 
plants. Like the secondary, the tertiary rocks consist 


of a great variety of strata of limestones, sandstones, 


clays, and. sands, which have distinct characters, and 


have been united in several groups. In them we first 
discover the remains of land quadrupeds and birds, aiid 
bones of mammalia are most abundant in the beds hearest 
to the surface. Among all the various remains of ani. 
mals and plants that are found in the Secondary rocks 
from the chalk downwards, not one has been found which 
is identical with any living species. Although they have 
characters agreeing with those by which existing aui- 
mals have been grouped together in the greater divisious 
of wenera, families and classes, the hving individuals of 
the same divisions have forms of structure distinct from 
any found in a fossil state in the Secondary rocks, But 
with the tertiary strata a new order of things commences, 
for in the lowest of thesé a small proportion, about three 
and a half per cent., of the fossil shells cannot be distin- 
guished from species that now exist; as we approach 
the higher beds the proportion always increases, and in 
the most recent.stratum, it amounts to nine-tenths of the 
whole. “It is not more than twenty-one years since the 
great division of the tertiary rocks was established ;_ prior 
to that time the peculiar characters which separate them 
from the secondary strata had been eutirely overlooked, 
a circumstance which marks very strongly that geology 
is the youngest of the sciences. "The discovery was made 
by the celebrated Cuvier and his associate M. Broneniart, 
who found that the city of Paris was built in a hollow 
basin of chalk that had been subsequently partially filled 
by vast deposits of clays, limestones, sands, and sand- 
stones, and that there were alternations of beds contain- 
ing remains of fresh water and terrestrial animals and 
plants, with others containing only the remains of marine 
animals, The publication of the work of the French natu- 
ralists led to a similar discovery in our own island, and 
sigularly enough in the valley of the Lhames, so that 
the capitals of France and Eneland are both built upon 
these strata, so Strangely neglected for so lone a time, 
although occurring in the very spots where the oreatest 
numbers of scientific men are collected together in both 
countries. A series of tertiary strata was discovered by 
Mr. Websier in the Isle of Wight, having strong points 
of resemblance with that of the environs of Paris, 
and these with some partial deposits on the coasts of 
Suffolk and Lancashire, constitute the whole of the 
tertiary rocks found in Great Britain. It was for some 
time supposed that these newer strata, which were soon 
found not to be confined to the neighbourhood of Paris 
and London, extended like the Secondary rocks over great 
tracts of country; and that there was such a degree of 
uniformity in their characters, that deposits widely distant 
from each other could be recognised as belonging to tle 
saine period in the chronological order of succession ot 
the strata. JLater observations, however, have shown that 
although possessing a general character of resemblance 

they have been so much imodified in their formation by 
local circumstances, that no two tertiary deposits, even of 
the same era, are alike. The discoveries of the last few 
years have led geologists to establish distinct subordinate 
groups, as in the case of the secondary rocks, and tlic 
upper stratum of the Paris basin, which was at one time 
cousidered the most recent of stratified rocks, has been 
found to be inferior in the order of succession to Inany 
others, some thousand feet thick. Organic remains are 
the gxeat characters of distinction, and Mr. Lyell, in his 
‘Principles of Geology,’ has proposed a division of the 
series founded upon the proportion of shells contained 
in the stratum which are identical with living species , 
that stratum being the most modera where tha propor 


In this state of the earth’s surface there must | tion 18 greatest, 


144 THE PENNY 


CAMPHOR. 











Ga PU EH — Td wae Rates 
SS Sagoo: = 


{ Camphor Tree. ] 


Campuor, which is so much used for medical purposes, 
is likewise extensively employed in the composition of 
varnishes, especially in that of copal. It is the peculiar 
product of the root of a species of laurel (laurus cam- 
phorata), a tree growing in China, Japan, and several 
parts of India. ‘The leaves of this plant stand upon 
a slender footstalk; and have an entire undulated margin 
running out into a point. Their upper surface is of a 
lively and shining green; the under part is of a yellower 
green, and of a silky appearance ; a few lateral nerves 
curve towards the margin, frequently terminating in 
sinall worts or excrescences—a circumstance peculiar to 
this species of laurel. The footstalks of the flowers do not 
come forth until the tree has attained considerable age 
and size. ‘The flower stalks are slender, and branch at 
the top, dividing into very short stems, each support- 
ing a single flower. ‘This is white, and succeeded by a 
shining purple berry of the size of a pea. It is composed 
of a small kernel enclosed in a soft pulpy substance— 
having the aroma of cloves and’camphor. . The bark of 
the stem of the tree is outwardly somewhat rough; but 
on the inner surface it is smooth and mucous, and there- 
fore readily separated from the wood, which is dry and of 
a white colour. Some travellers affirm that old trees 
contain camphor so abundantly that on splitting the 
trunk it is found in the form oflarge tears, so pure as not 
to require rectification. The usual method, however, of 
obtaining this substance is from the roots, pieces of which 
are put into an iron vessel furnished with a capital, or 
large head; this upper part is internally filled with cords 
of rice straw ; the joinings are then luted, and the dis- 
tillation proceeded upon. On the application of heat the 
camphor sublimes and attaches itself to the straw within 
the head. The Dutch purify the substance thus ob- 
tained by mixing an ounce. of quicklime with every pound 
of the camphor, and subjecting it toa second sublimation 
in large mlass vessels. _ 
Camphor is well known as a white friable substance, 
having a peculiar aromatic odour, and a strong’ taste. 
Some chemists consider it as a concrete vegetable oil. 
It melts at a temperature of 288°, and boils at 400°. 
Fahrenheit. Its specific gravity is less than that of water. 
It is very inflammable, burning with a white flame and 
smoke, and leaving no residue. Alcohol, ether, and oils | 


MAGAZINE. [Aprin 13, 1838 
dissolve it. 'The only indication whereby it appears that 
water acts upon camphor is that of acquiring its smell ; 
it is said, however, that a Spanish surgeon has effected 
the solution in water by means of carbonicacid*. Cam- 
phor may be burned as it floats on the surface of water 
It is not altered by mere exposure to atmospheric air, 
but it is so extremely volatile that if in warm weather it 
is placed in an open vessel it evaporates completely. 
It dissolves in alcohol, and like the resins, is immediately 
precipitated again by the addition of water. 

Camphor has been found to exist in numerous plants: 
whence it may be obtained by distillation. Neumann 
and other chemists extracted it from the roots of 
zedoary, thyme, sage, the inula helenium, the anemone, 
the pasque flower, and some other vegetables. Experi- 
ment has shown that the plants whence it is extracted 
afford a much larger quantity of camphor when the sap 
has been suffered to pass to the concrete state by several 
months’ drying. 

This substauce was very early known to the Eastern 
nations; it was introduced into Europe by the Arabians, 
but was entirely unknown to the ancient Greeks and 
Romans, 


* Ure’s Dictionary of Chemistry. 





Rabbits.—The care with which a doe rabbit provides for 
her young is very remarkable. She not only makes a nest 


i of the softest hay, from which she carefully munches out 


all the harder portions, but she actuajly strips the fur or 
down off her own breast to spread over the hay. At first she 
covers up her young ones with the same materials in order to 
keep them warm, uncovering them only for the purpose of 
viving them suck. She is also extremely careful in propor- 
tioning this covering to the severity of the weather and the 
tenderness or strength of her offspring, gradually diminishing 
it as they’ grow more robust. ) 





The Horse—instinct.—A horse before venturing up a leap 
measures the distance with his eye, and will not make the 
attempt if he think he cannot clear it. (Dr. Haslam on Sound 
Mind.) In alpme countries the horses accustomed to the 
difficult passes in the mountains seldom make a false step or 
trust themselves on a place where their footing is imsecure. 
In the same way the horses accustomed to a marshy country 
may be safely trusted in crossing bogs and roads, as they 
rarely venture upon any spot where they may be in danger 
of being mired, 

Some time ago there was a horse in the artillery stud at 
Woolwich which was (while in the riding-school) the most 
docile and finely trained animal that. could be imagined. 
He would at the word of command lie down and not rise till he 
was ordered: he would bow with the most dignified grace to 
visitors ; and perform other feats with undeviating obedience. 
But the instant he was taken out of doors, and found himself 
in the open air and the open roads, he became altogether 
unmanageable ; and when he could not cast his rider, which 
he did all he could to effect, he lay down and rolled about. 
It may be remarked, that when first purchased he was found 
to be extremely vicious, but being a fine horse pains were 
taken to break him in-—and as it appears successfully—within 
the walls of the riding-school, though out of doors his old 
habits remained unbroken. 





- Musical Taste:—The ass has been frequently made one of 
the parties in the’most popular fables from Alsop downwards. 
The following is not much known: ‘A trial of skillin singing 
being agreed on between the cuckoo and the nightingale, 
the ass was chosen as umpire. After each had done his 
best, the sagacious ass declared that the nightingale sung 
extremely well; but for a good plain song the cuckoo was 
far his superior —Scots’ Presbyterian Eloq. Displayed. 


Gn 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, 





LONDON :—-CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


“= 


Printed by Wintiam Clowes, Stamford Street, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








te 
67.] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. — Us 90. 153d 


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{ Hdinburgh Castle. ] 


[rt is scarcely possible to Imagine a finer situation for a green banks of the opposite coast of Fife glittering 
city than that of the Scottish metropolis. Let the reader | across its waters, and the loftier mountains bounding 
conceive a vast natural amphitheatre, formed by a suc- | the horizon beyond. In the centre of this magnificent 
cession of elevations sweeping around the east, south, | panorama is the ancient capital, occupying the summit of 
and west, and endlessly varied in their aspect by dis- { a Jong hill, which stretches across a portion of the en- 
tance, height, and the verdant or rocky termination of | closed valley, and ascends gradually from the east till it 
their ridges or pinnacles; while on the low space in front | terminates at the opposite point in a precipitous rock of 
a the noble estuary of the Forth, with the bright | nearly two hundred feet in height.) On this - stands 
ou. II, 


146 


the castle. It 1s separated from the High-street, or prin- 
cipal part of what is called the Old Town, by a vacant 
space of about three hundred feet in length, forming the 
brow of what is called the Castle Hill, the only practicable 
ascellt to the fort. 
along the declivity in a straight line of more than a mile in 
length, with the palace of Holyrood at its extremity. Down 
the sides of the hill on each side run numerous steep and 
narrow lanes, or closes, as they are called, issuing into 
the low street called the Cowgate on the south, and on 
the opposite side leading to what still bears the name of 
the North Loch, though the basin which used to be 
filled with water has now been lone drained. For the 
purposes of communication between the different dis- 
tricts of the town, both the Cowgate and the North 
“Loch are crossed by bridges, that over the latter being 
nearly seventy feet in height. beyond the North Loch 
lies the more modern part of the city, called the New 
‘Town, which is laid out in spacious streets, squares, and 
circuses. ‘The most distant part of the New ‘Town stands 
about three miles from the sea, but it is fast covering the 
intervening space. ‘To the east of the city rises the Calton 
Hill, an eminence of considerable height. Beyond it, to 
the south-west, are the green peak of Arthur’s Seat, 
and the singularly rocky coronet of Salisbury Crags. 
Bounding the back-ground to the south is the long line 


of the Pentlands, and the hills of Braid; and, finally, to} 


the west, lies the beautiful hill of Corstorphine, swelling 
from amidst cultivated fields and woodlands, and, when 
lighted up by the setting sun, forming as rich a picture as 
the eye has often looked upon. 
But our business at present is with what Scott has so 
enthusiastically apostrophized as 
@ The height 

Where the huge Castle holds its state, 

And all the steep slope down, 

Whose ridgy back heaves to the sky, 


Piled deep and massy, close and high, 
Mine own romantic town.” 


There can be no doubt that the town of Edinburgh 
originated in a fort which occupied the position of the 
present castle. It appears to have been a strong hold 
of the British tribe called the Gadeni, and to have been 
named in their language the May-Dyn. Jn after-times, 
when this was conceived to be a Saxon term, the ex- 
pression Maiden Castle came into use, and Edinburgh 
has even been denominated in charters, Castrum 
Puellarum (the fort of the girls or maids). To account 
for this name, historians aud etymologists have indulged 
in many fanciful conjectures. But the true meaning of the 
British term May-Dyn (of which the Maiden Castle is a 
vulgar corruption) is, as Mr. Chalmers has shown in his 
Caledonia, merely the fort or fortified mount in the plain, 
——a description exactly applicable to the onigmal Edin- 
burgh, as well as to other places anciently distinguished 
by the same name. 

Lhe modern name of Edinburgh comes from Edwin, 
one of the sovereigus of the Saxon kingdom of Northnm- 
berland, of which for a long period what is now called 
Scotland, as far as the Frith of Forth, was a part. 
Edwin reigned from 617 to 634; and to that age 
therefore we are to assign the first imposition of the 
name. From this has been formed the modern Celtic or 
Gaelic uame of Dun Edin, that is, the town of Edwin. 

iuven so early as the time of Edwin a town had pro- 
bably grown up around the castle. But Edinburgh did 
not become the capital of Scotland till many centuries 
afterwards. All the space between the Forth and North- 
umberland was long accounted border or debateable ter- 
ritory, and was in the possession of Scotland and Eueland 
alteruately. Tu the twelfth century we find Malcolm LV,, 
although he often resided in the eastle of Edinburgh, stil] 
designating Scone as the metropolis of his kingdom. 
James LI. was the first kine who made it his usual ‘resi- 


Beyond this the High-street extends 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


— 


[Apart 20, 


dence, and the chief seat of his court,—the atrocious 
murder of his father at Perth, in 1437, having apparently 
determined him to remove to a more secure part of the 
kingdom. : : 

Before the'invention of artillery Edinburgh Castle 
was almost impregnable by force, when held by an ade-. 
quate garrison; but it was nevertheless frequently taken 
by surprise. One of the most remarkable instances 
occurred in 1341, when William Douglas contrived by 
the following stratagem to recover it from Edward III. 
of England, for whom it was held by a garrison of great 
streneth. <‘ Douglas,’ says Grose, in his Antiquities, 
“with three other gentlemen, waited on the Governor. 
One of them, pretending to be an English merchant, in- 
formed lim he had for sale, on board a vessel then just 
arrived in the Forth, a cargo of wine, strong beer, and 
biscuit exquisitely spiced; at the saime time producing as 
a sample a bottle of wine and another of beer. The 
Governor, tasting and approving of them, agreed for the 
purchase of the whole, which the feigned captain re- 
quested he might deliver very early the next morning, in 
order to avoid interruption from the Scots. He came 
accordingly at the time appointed, attended by a dozen 
armed followers disguised in the habit of sailors; and the 
gates being opened for their reception, they contrived 


just in the entrance to overturn a carriage, in which the 


provisions were supposed to be loaded, thereby preventing 
them from being suddenly shut. ‘They then killed the 
porter and sentries ; and blowing a horn as a signal, 
Donglas, who with a band of armed men had Jain con- 
cealed near the castle, rushed in and joined their com- 
panions. A sharp conflict ensued, in which most of the 
garrison being slain, the castle was recovered for the 
Scots, who about the same time had also driven the 
English entirely out of Scotland.” 

Among the subsequent sieges which it sustained, one 
of the most memorable was that which terminated on the 
29th of May, 1573, when it was, after an obstinate defence 
of thirty-three days, surrendered to an English army by 
Kirkaldy of Grange, who held it for Queen Mary. 
Kirkaldy, who was one of the ablest and bravest men of 
that age, was basely hanged on this occasion, as well as 
his brother and other gentlemen; by the English com- 
mander, Sir William Drury, in violation of the articles of 
capitulation. ‘There is a curious old Scottish poem, 
giving an account of this siege. In 1650, the castle 
again held out for two months against the forces of 
Cromwell, after the battle of Dunbar. An account of 
this siege may be found in a 4to. pamphlet, published at 
London in 1651. After the Revolution, although the 
town of Edinburgh espoused the cause of King William, 
the castle was held by the Duke of Gordon for King 
James till the middle of June, 1689. ‘Two very detailed 
and curious accounts of this protracted blockade have 
been printed. In 1715 an unsuccessful attempt was 
made to surprise the castle by the rebels, a party of 
whom had almost reached the top of the rock by means 
of scaling-ladders before they were discovered. In the 
rebellion of 1745, although the town was for some time 
in the possession of the Pretender’s forces, no assault 
was made upon the castle, which even preserved its com- 
munication with the town uninterrupted all the while. 

Of the buildings forming the castle, the principal part 
consists of an oblong quadrangle, called the Grand Pa- 
rade; the apartments on the east side of which are said to 
have been those formerly inhabited by the royal fainily. 
The principal apartment which is now visited by stran- 
gers is that in which are placed the ancient Scottish 
regalia, since their discovery in 1818, in an old chest in 
which they had been deposited immediately: after the 
Union in 1707. ‘This discovery excited at the time au ex- / 
traordinary sensation in Scotland, where it was @enerally ” 


| believed that the interesting relics in question ‘had long ° 


been removed from the scrupulously-cuarded, but never | 


3833.) 


till then unlocked, receptacle, to which they were said to 
have been so many years before consigned. ‘I'he chest 
was broken open under authority of a warrant from the 
Kine; and the regalia, consisting of the crown, the sword 
of state, and two sceptres, were found with some pieces 
of linen loosely thrown over them, exactly in the state in 
which they were described to be in the document drawn 
up at the time when they were deposited. A full acconnt 
of the whole affair, and also of the previous history of 
the regalia, which is not without several romantic pas- 
sages, may be found in one of the volumes printed 
by the Bannatyne Club, entitled ‘ Papers relative to 
the Regalia of Scotland, Ato. 1829. It is edited by 
Mr. William Bell. 


* 


:, ssl 


MONCONTOUR AND IVRY. 

Tux struggle between the ancient faith and the Refor- 
mation, which in England was decided at the cost of 
the blood of only a few hundred individual victims, gave 
rise in France to a long and sanguinary contest of arms. 
Beginriing in 1562, in the reign of Charles IX., with 
the encounter called the Massacre.of Vassi, in Cham- 
pagne, where some hundreds of the Huguenots, or Pro- 
testants, were killed and wounded by a sudden assault 
of the followers of the Duke of Guise, the strife did not 
terminate till the entry into Paris of Henry IV, in 1593. 
During the whole of this iiterval the kingdom was kept 
in a state of distraction by the alternations of this civil 
war, which, although it did not divide the population 
into two equal parts, —for the Catholics were, no doubt, 
always the immense majority,—yet drew so strong a 
support on both sides from different parts of the coun- 
try, as to make it extremely difficult for either party 
to maintain a permanent superiority over the other. 

Among the battles which marked the course of the 
contest, one of the most bloody was that fought on. the 
3d of October, 1569, at Moncontour, a village of Poictou 
(now comprehended in the department of Vienne), 
between the Huguenots commanded by the Admiral 
Coligni, and the Catholics led by the Duke of Anjou, 
who afterwards became Kine of France under the 
name of Henry Ili. ‘The career of Coligui imme- 
diately previous had been a succession of disasters, 
the consequences of which, however, had been to a 
great extent averted by the admirable abilities of that 
general, of whom it has been said, that he was more 
to be feared after a defeat, than most others after a 
victory. Anjou was himself without any pretensions 
to superior military talent; but he enjoyed the advice 
and guidance of one of the ablest generals France 
ever produced, the Marshal de ‘Tavannes, and by him 
the victories of the Duke were really gained. - It was the 
skill of Tavannes which contrived at Moncontour to 
force Coligni into such a position as compelled him to 
fight. The young prince of Bearn, afterwards Henry 
IV., although only a boy of fifteen, was by the side of 
Coligni in this battle, having been shortly before com- 
mitted to his charge as a pupil in the art. of war, by 
his mother tlie Queen of Navarre. ‘The battle was a 
very short one, but terminated 1n another complete 
defeat of the Huguenots, of whom not fewer than from 
ten to twelve thousand were left dead on the field. But, 
as on former occasions, partly by his own conduct and 
partly through the ne¢lieence and mismanagement of 
the enemy, Coligni speedily succeeded in more than re- 
pairing even this dreadful loss; and in less than a year 
he had so retrieved his fortunes as to. have made himself 
master of a third part of the realm of France. 

We have glanced at these remarkable events, princi- 
pally to introduce two very spirited poems, which ap- 
peared some years ago in the ‘Quarterly Magazine,’ 
under the title of ‘ Songs of the Huguenots.’ The 
subject of the first poem is Moncontour. The second 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE 


147 


is descriptive of the battle of Ivry, fourht in 1590, 

° 6 3 
where Henry IV. obtained the victory over the Duke 
of Mayenne, to which he principally owed the eventual 
submission of his enemies and his unopposed admis- 
sion to the throne of his ancestors. As the one com- 
position is a wail of lamentation and despair, in which 
the beaten and scattered Huguenots are supposed to 
pour out their grief over their fallen comrades, and their 
apparently ruined cause; so the other is their song of joy 
and triumph when their fortunes have changed, and their 
enemies had been scattered. 


I. Monconrour. 


Ow! weep for Moncontour. Oh! weep for the hour 
When the children of darkness and evil had power ; 
When the horsemen of Valois triumphantly ttod 

On the bosoms that bled for their rights and their God. 


Oh! weep for Moncontour. Oh! weep for the slain 
Who for faith and for freedom lay slaughtered in vain. 
Oh! weep for the living, who linger to bear 

The renegade’s shame, or the exile’s despair. 


One look, one last look, to the cots and the towers, 
‘Fo the rows of our vines, and the beds of our flowers, 

To the church where the bones of our fathers decayed, 
Where we fondly had deemed that our own should be laid. 


Alas! we must leave thee, dear desolate home, 
To the spearmen of Uri, the shavelings of Rome, 
To the serpent of Florence, the vulture of Spain, 
To the pride of Anjou, and the guile of Lorraine. 


Farewell to thy fountains, farewell to thy shades, 

To the song of thy youths, and the dance of thy maids, 
To the breath of thy gardens, the hum of thy bees, 
And the long waving line of the blue Pyrences. 


Farewell, and for ever. The priest and the slave 
May rule in the halls of the free and the brave ;— 
Our hearths we abandon ;—our lands we resign ;— 
But, Father, we kneel to no altar but thine. 


II. Ivry. 


Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom ail glories are! 

And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry otf Navarre! 

Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance, 

Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vines, Oh pleasant land 
of France! 

And thou Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters, 

Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters. 

As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, 

For cold, and stiff, and still are they who wrotght thy walls annoy. 

Hurrah! Hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war 

Hurrah! Hurrah! for Ivry, and Henry of Navarre. 


Oh! how our hearts were beating, when, at the dawn of day, 

We saw the army of the League drawn out in long array ; 

With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers, 

And Appenzel’s stout infantry, and Egmont’s Flemish spears. 
There rode the brood of false Lorraine, the curses of our Jand; 

And dark Mayenne was in the midst, a truncheon in his hand: 
And, as we looked on them, we thought of Seine’s empurpled flood, 
And good Coligni’s hoary hair all dabbled with his blood ; 

And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, 

To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre. 


The King is come to marshal us, in all his armour drest, 

And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. 

He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye; . 

He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. 

Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, 

Down all our line, a deafening shout, “God save our Lord the 
King.” 

« And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full weli he may, 

“For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, 

‘Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, 

« And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.” 


Hurrah! the foes are moving. Hark to the mingled din, 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring culverin. 
The fiery Duke is pricking fast across Saint André’s plain, 
With all the hireling chivalry of Guelders and Almayne. 
Now by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
Charge for the golden lilies,—upon them with the lance. 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in resf, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; 
And in they burst, arid on they rushed, while hike a guiding star, 
Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of N ee 

2 


148 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[APRIL 20, 


Now, God be praised, the day is onts. Mayenne hath turned his rein. Ho! maidens of Vientia's Ho! matrons of Lucerne; 


YD’ Aumale hath cried for quarter. The Flemish count is slain. 
Thar ranks are breaking like thin clouds before a Biscay pale; | 
The field is heaped with bleeding steeds, and flags, and cloven mail. 
And then we thought on vengeance, and, all along our van, 

‘¢ Remember Saint Bartholomew,” was passed from man to man, 
But out spake gentle Henry, “ No Frenchman is my foo: 

“ Down, down, with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.” 

Oh! was there ever such a knight, in friendship or in war, 


As our Sovereign Lord, King Henry, the Soldier of Navarre * 





THE REIN-DEER. 


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Weep, weep and rend your hair for those who never shall return. 
Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks may sing amass for thy poor spearmen’s souls. 
Ho! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms be bright ; 
Ho! burghers of Saint Genevieve, keep watch and ward to-night. 
For our God hath crushed the tyrant, our God hath raised the slave, 
And mocked the counsel of the wise, and the valour of the brave. 
Then glory to his holy name, from whom all glories are; ' 
And glory to our Sovereign Lord, King Henry of Navarre.) 





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" [Milkitg of the Rein-Deer.} 


Tur Rein-Deer, an anima: of the most important service 
in the districts of which it is a native, is found nowhere 
but within the polar regions. Several attempts have 
been made to introduce it both into this country and 
into Scotland, but they all failed; and it is a remark- 
able fact, that those which were turned out into what 
were considered favourable situations, as for instance, 
on the Pentland Hills near Edinburgh, where they had 
a cold climate, and a sufficient supply of the rein-deer 
moss, which forms the principal part of their food, suffered 
more and died sooner than such as have been confined 
to a small enclosure, or even to a room, as in some.of 
the Menageries and in the Zoological Gardens.. 

I‘rom the earliest times the rein-deer appears to have 
been domesticated by the Laplanders; and that dreary 
region owes to this animal whatever it possesses of. 
civilization, and whatever comforts tend to render it 
supportable to the inhabitants. 

The Laplanders are divided into two very di&tinct 
classes ; one who are settled in their habits, living on or 
near the coast, and supporting themselves by fishing ; the 
other inhabiting the mountains, and wandering through 
the summer and winter with no shelter but their tents, 
and no provision but their rein-deer. These valuable 


animals, however, are subject to a visitation in the sum- 





mer which compels their owners to repair to the coast, 
frequently an arduous journey, in order to mitigate their 
sufferings and preserve’ their lives. M. De Broke, in 
his Travels in Lapland, thus describes these migrations :— 
“Whale Island, during the summer months, is never 
without three or four. families of mountain Laplanders 
(Field-finner), with their herds of rein-deer. ‘The causes 
that induce, nay, even compel'these people to undertake 
their long and annual migrations from the interior” parts 
of Lapland to its coast, though they may appear sin- 
eular,; are sufficiently powerful. It is well known, from 
the account of those travellers who have visited Lapland 
during the summer months, that the interior paris of 
it, particularly its boundless forests, are so infested by 
various species of gnats and other insects, that no animal 
can escape their incessant persecutions, Large fires are 
kindled, in the smoke of which the cattle hold their heads 
to eseape the attack of their. enemies; and even the 
natives themselves are compelled to smear their faces with 
tar, as the only certain protection against their stings. 
No ‘creature, however, suffers more than the rein-deer 
from the larger species (cestrus tarandi), as it not only 
torments it incessantly: by its sting, but even deposits its 
ego in the wound it -makes in its hide. ‘The pocr ani- 
mal is thue tormented to such a degree, that the Lap- 


1833.) 


lander, if he were to remain in the forests during the 
months of June, July, and August, would run the risk 
of losing the greater part of his herd, either by actual 
sickness, or from the deer fleeing of their own accord to 
mountainous situations to escape the gad-fly. From 
these causes the Laplander is driven from the forests to 
the mountains that overhang the Norway and Lapland 
coasts, the elevated situations of which, and the cool 
breezes from the ocean, are unfavourable to the existence 
of these troublesome insects, which, though found on the 
coast, are in far less considerable numbers there, and do 
not quit the valleys ; so that the deer, by ascending the 
highlands, ‘can avoid them.” 

Early in September the herds and their owners leave 
the coast, in order to reach their winter quarters before 
the fall of the snows. With the approach of winter, the 
coat of the rein-deer. begins to thicken, and like that of 
most other. polar quadrupeds to assume a lighter colour. 
It is, however, when the winter -is fairly set in that the 
peculiar value of the rein-deer is felt by the Laplanders. 
Withont him, communication would be almost utterly 
suspended. Harnessed to a sledge, the rein-deer will 
draw about 300 Ibs. ; but the Laplanders generally limit 
the burthen to 240 Ibs. ‘The trot of the rein-deer is about 
ten miles an hour; and the animal’s power of endurance 
is such; that journeys of one hundred and fifty miles in 
nineteen hours are not. uncommon. ‘There is a portrait 
of a rein-deer in the palace of Drotningholm (Sweden), 
whieh is represented, upon an occasion of emergency, to 
have drawn an officer. with important despatches the 
incredible distance of eight hundred English miles in 
forty-eight hours. This event is stated to have happened 
in 1699, and the tradition adds, that the deer dropped 
down lifeless upon his arrival. 

During the winter, the food of the rein-deer is the 
lichen or moss, which they. display wonderful quickness 
of smell in discovering beneath the snow. In the sum- 
mer they pasture upon all green herbage,. and browse 
upon the shrubs which they find in their march. ‘They 
also, it is now well ascertained, eat with avidity the lem- 
ming or mountain rat, affording one of the few instances 
of a ruminating animal being in the slightest degree car- 
nivorous. 

Of course, in a country where their services are s0 


indispensable, rein-deer constitute the principal wealth | 


of the inhabitants. M. De Broke says,—‘‘ The number 
of deer belonging to a herd is from three hundred to five 
hundred ; with these a Laplander can do well, and live 
in tolerable comfort. He can make in summer a 
sufficient quantity of cheese for the year’s consumption ; 
and, during the winter season, can afford to kill deer 
enough to supply him and his family pretty constantly 
with venison. With two hundred deer, a man, if his 
family be but small, can manage to get on. If he have 
but one hundred, his subsistence is very precarious, and 
he cannot rely entirely upon them for support. Should 
he have but fifty, he is no longer independent, or able to 
Keep a separate establishment, but generally joins his 
small herd with that of some richer Laplander, being 
then considered more in the light of a menial, undertaking 
tne laborious office of attending upon and watching the 
herd, bringing them home to be milked, and other 
similar Offices, in return for the subsistence afforded him.”’ 

_ Von Buch, a celebrated traveller, has well described 
the evening milking-time, of which a representation is 
given in the wood-cut :-—“ Jt is a new and a pleasing 
spectacle, to see in the evening the herd assembled round 
the gamme (encampment) to be milked. On all the 


hills around, every thing is in an instant full of life and | 


motion, The busy dogs are every where barking, and 
bringing the mass nearer and nearer, and the rein-deer 
bound and run, stand still, and bound again, in an 
indescribable variety of movements. When the feeding 
animal, frightened by the dog, raises his head, and 
displays aloft his large and proud antlers, what a 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE,’ 


149 


beautiful and majestic sight! And when he courses Over 
the ground, how fleet and light are his speed and carriage! 
We never hear the foot on the earth, and nothing mt 
the incessant crackling of his knee-joints, as jf produced 
by a repetition of electric shocks—a singular noise - and 
from the number of rein-deer, by whom it is tt Ghiee 
produced, it is heard at a great distance. When all the 
herd, consisting of three or four hundred, at last reach 
the gamme, they stand still, or repose themselves, or 
frisk about in confidence, play with their antlers against 
each other, or in eroups surround a patch of moss 
browsing. When the maidens run about with their milk- 
vessels from deer to deer, the brother or servant throws 
a bark halter round the antlers of the animal which they 
point out to him, and draws it towards them; the animal 
generally struggles, and is unwilling to follow the halter, 
and the maiden laughs at and enjoys the labour it 
occasions, and sometimes wantonly allows it to get loose 
that it may again be caught for her; while the father and 
mother are heard scolding them for their frolicksome 
behaviour, which has often the effect of searine the 
whole flock. Who, viewing this scene, would ft tlifiek 
on Laban, on Leah, Rachel, and Jacob? When the 
herd at last stretches itself, to the number of so many 
lundreds at once, round abont the gamme, we imagine 
we are beholding an entire encampment, and the com- 
manding mind which presides over the whole, stationed 
in the middle.” : 

_ The wild rein-deer are hunted by the Laplanders, 
and also by the Eskimaux, and the Indians of North 
America,’ | 3 i 


ON THE HISTORY OF SMALL POX. | 


Or the numerous diseases to which’ mankind are 
exposed, the class denominated ‘epidemic or spreadine: 
diseases is attended with the most ‘alarming interest. 
A malady of this sort may take its origin in the remotest 
district of an extensive country, and yet,’ if. its progress 
be independent of the peculiarities of soil and climate, 
if may soon come to overrun the whole. In the same 
way, although a spreading malady commence in one 
hemisphere of the globe, it may after a time invade the 
other, and its ravages know ultimately no bounds, save 
those of human intercourse and human existence. 

Those spreading diseases, ‘from the great havoc they 
often commit, have been commonly known by the name 
of plagues” and “ pestilences.” The word plague is 
apt to convey to an unprofessional person a very inde- 
finite idea of some great calamity which he is unable 
to describe; but in reality it is neither more nor less 
than a fever. All plagues, in medical language, are 
understood to have been fevers; and they are distin- 
guished one from the other by their ¢ypes or peculiar 
character of their symptoms. Thus, the Egyptian 
plague is a fever which bears a strong resemblance 
to ordinary typhus, in producing an extreme depres- 
sion of the constitutional powers of the patient; and 
it is distinguished from typhus by being attended with 
swellings of the glands in different parts of the body. 
The plague of London, which, in 1665, destroyed 
within the bills of mortality eight thousand persons in 
one week, was similar to that of Egypt. Varieties of 
the same virulent epidemic are probably pointed at in 
the writings of Thucydides and Galen as having pre- 
vailed in the earlier ages at Athens and at Rome. At 
all events it seems certain that during nearly one half of 
the sixth century, and at several periods since, large 
portions of Europe and of Asia were devastated by the- 
Egyptian scourge. 

Small-pox is a plague which, previous to the practice of 
vaccination, exercised a still more destructive power even 
than the preceding disease ; but it does not appear that 





‘the physicians of ancient Greece or Rome were at all 


acquainted with small-pox, For the traces of its early 


( 150 


progress we must look fartner east. In tne traditions of 
the people of China and Hindostan small-pox was enu- 
merated as one of their common diseases; and in some 
of their earliest books, devoted to religion and philosophy, 
descriptions of it have been found to exist. 

China or Hindostan, then, must be considered the 
cradle of small-pox. We have no means, however, of 
ascertaining in which of the two it first appeared, or of 
offering a rational conjecture to explain the manner of 
its first production, beyond the fact that these countries 
have from remote agcs swarmed with inhabitants, and 
been subject to dreadful inroads of famine—circumstances 
of themselves eminently favourable to the generation of 
pestilence. According to the Chinese and Brahminical 
authorities, there is written evidence to show that small- 
pox had been established in their respective countries 
during a period of three thousand years and upwards. 

Although small-pox had prevailed so long in China 
and Hindostan, the first notice of its appearance in 
Western Asia cannot be dated earlier than the middle of 
the sixth century, and Europe was not invaded until a 
later period. ‘The epoch to which we allude, as the 
recorded commencement of its western ravages, was the 
year 569, when the city of Mecca, in Arabia, was. be- 
siered by an army of Abyssinian Chiristians, under the 
command of Abreha, with the-expectation of being able 
to destroy the Kaaba or Pagan temple contained within 
that city. In this army the small-pox committed dreadful 
havock, and we are also told that measles made its ap- 
pearance there at the same time. 

Irom the siege of Mecca, a.p. 569, to the siege of 
Alexandria, in 639, not any of the Arabian records that 
have come down to us make mention of the progress of 
small-pox. During this interval, however, the disease 
was undoubtedly propagated, in varions directions, in the 
wake of the victorious Arabs, who were assembled and 
Jed forth to war under the banner of their prophet. 
War has been ever the ready disseminator of pestilence ; 
and, as Persia and Syria were soon afterwards subdued 
by the successors of Mohammed, we may fairly conclude 
that small-pox was imported with«the conquerors into 
these countries, if it had not previously reached them. 

Oi the other hand, Amrou, the lieutenant of the 
Caliph Omar, invaded Egypt in 638. In two years he 
captured Alexandria. It is conjectured that small-pox 
was communicated by the Mohammedan troops to the 
inhabitants of this city during the siege. Ahron, an 
author who lived in Alexandria at the time, wrote a 
treatise on small-pox, to which Rhazes, the distinguished 
Arabian physician, alludes. Unfortunately, Ahron’s 
work has been since lost. | 

“Yhe rapid and prolonged success which now attended 
the Saracens by land and sea, opened new channels for 
the diffusion of small-pox; and, in attempting to follow 
its progress westward, along the shores of the Medi- 
terranean, we have no more certain @nide than the 
chronological details of Saracenic conquest. Okba bn 
Nafe, the general of Amru, subdued that portion of 
Africa lying between Barka and Zoweilah, including 
what now constitutes the piratical state of Tripoli. To 
him sueceeded others who pushed the dominion of the 
Saracens still further. In 712 their armies made a 
descent on Spain. After defeating Roderick, the last 
king of the Goths, they took Toledo, and eventually 
Overrun the whole country. About the year 732 the 
Saracens crossed the Pyrenees. Consequently with the 
period of this invasion we may date the introduction of 
small-pox into that kinedom. | 

_Small-pox probably reached Britain about the begin- 
ning of the ninth century ; but no distinct notice of this 
extraordinary visitor is furnished by the writers of the 
time. Sunk in the ignorance of the middle ages, they 
allowed the worst scourge that had ever thinned the 
human race to pass without description; or, if men- 
tioned at all in their meagre chronicles, it is only under 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


fAprin 20, 


the name of “plague,” or of “ consuming fire,”’—epi- 
thets then apparently applied to eruptive pestilences in 
common. 

When small-pox enters a locality where it had not 
been before, its first effects are almost always more 
extensively destructive than any subsequent. Happily, 
in the present day, we can form, from our own expe- 
rience, no conception of the mortality that in all pro- 
bability marked its early course in England. A deadly 
pestilence, to one attack of which,.as a general rule, 
every individual, in every rank of life, the highest as 
well as the lowest, is liable, must necessarily have filled 
the country from one extremity to the other with sick- 
ness and with death. ‘To aggravate the occurrence of 
such an evil, no disease is in itself more loathsome than 
small-pox. ‘The victim of the attack, more particularly 
in the confluent variety, presents a most pitiable spec- 
tacle. In this form the patient is seen labouring 
under a fever, with the worst typhoid or putrid symp- 
toms. He is at the same time completely covered from 
head to heel with pustules, which not unfrequently 
coalesce, and wiitfndaald change the whole surface of his 
body into one continucd sore that renders his features 
undistingnishable to his dearest friends, and converts lim 
into an object of disgust to their senses. Nor are the 
immediate snffcrings and danger of death the only mis- 
fortunes attendant on small-pox. In case the patient 
linger through the fever, or finally survive the attack, 
it is often at the sacrifice of every thing considered 
desirable in personal appearance. Beauty may be trans- 
formed into deformity—and, what is of far greater 
importance, by the less of sight the patient may be 
condemned to pass the remainder of his life in total 
darkness. : 

Countries which have received small-pox in compara- 
tively modern times, afford striking examples of the 
magnitude of the calamity in its unmitigated terrors. 
In 1517 St. Domingo was infected. The island thicn 
contained, it is said, a million of Indians; but these un- 
fortunate people were altogether destroyed by small-pox 
and the murderous arms of their Spanish invaders. 
About 1520 small-pox commenced in Cuba. | i*rom 
thence it was carried to Mexico. Within a short period, 
according to computations that have been made, thie 
pestilence destroyed in the kingdom of Mexico alone 
three millions and a half of the inhabitants. The 
emperor, brother and sneeessor to Montezuma, was 
among the victims. At subsequent periods different 
parts of the American continent suffered much. Whole 
nations of warlike Indians were almost extirpated; and 
piles of bones, found under the tufted trees in the interior 
of the country, have been supposed to bear testimony to 
the ravages of small-pox. : 

Peciliarities of climate exercise no mollifying influcnce 
over the virulence of small-pox. Iceland was invaded 
in the year 1707, and it suffered as much as the southern 
regions. The inroad destroyed sixteen thousand persons 
—-more than a fourth of the estimated population of 
the island. Greenland escaped until 1733. In that 
year small-pox appeared, and carried off nearly all its 
inhabitants. 

Small-pox is now familiar to every section of the 
elobe; but we hear of it no longer as a scourge to sweep 
away the population of an extensive district, with a ra- 
pidity and power approaching to those of the tornado. 
‘The beneficent Providence which, for the fulfilment of 
its own mysterious purposes, tolerates the growth and 
extension of nuinerous plagues, has placed within the 
reach of human intelligence numerous remiedies capable 
either of alleviating or of completely obviating their 
dangerous effects. Without the aid of inoculation and 
vaccination it is calculated that at least.one fourteentt. 
of every generation of mankind would perish beneath 
the deadly taint of small-pox; but that, were moculation 
generally practised; the mortality would not amount to 


1833.4 


one in seventy of those on whom the operation had 
been performed, and, under the protective influence of 


vaccination, that one death is not to be expected in | 


many hundreds of persons so treated. . Inoculation has 
of late years been wisely abandoned by the medical pro- 
fession ; vaccination is recommended in its stead. ‘The 
history of the progress of inoculation, and of Dr. Jenner's 
invaluable discovery, we shall touch upon im a future 
lumber 





DANIEL DEFOE. 


In the ensuing week occurs the anniversary of the death 
of this great writer, whose name is doubtless known to 
most of our readers as that of the author of Robinson 
Crusoe; but who, although more than a century has ow 
elapsed since he ceased to live, has not yet obtained in 
the weneral estimation that share of fame and that 
rank in English literature to which he is justly entitled. 
Defoe’s was a life of extraordinary activity; an account 
of which, therefore, if @iven in detail, might occupy, as 
indéed it has been made to occupy, volumes. Here we 
must confine ourselves to a very rapid and general 
sketch. He was born in 166], in London, where his 
father was a butcher, of the parish of St. Giles’s, Crip- 
plegate. The family name was Joe, to which he ap- 
pears to have himself prefixed the De. His father, who 
was a dissenter, sent him to be educated at an academy 
at Newington Green, kept by a clergyman of his own 
persuasion. Here he distinguished himself by his fond- 
less for reading every thing that came in his way, and 
his industry in storing his mind with useful knowledge. 
On leaving the academy he is supposed to have been 
bound apprentice to a hosier; and he afterwards set up 
for himself in that line in Freeman’s Yard, Cornhill. It 
is probable, however, that he had scarcely finished his 
apprenticeship when he made his first appearance as an 
author; for in one of his later writings he mentions a 
political pamphlet which he published in 1683, and in 
terms which almost seem to imply that even that was 
not the first production of his pen; he was then, he 
says, “ but a young man, and a younger author.” 

Literature was destined to become Defoe’s chief 
profession. His speculations in trade, among which 
was a brick and tile work near Tilbury Fort in Essex, 
were not fortunate; and about the year 1692 he be- 
came bankrupt. His conduct in relation to this event 
was highly to his honour; for, although he had ob- 
tained an acquittal from his creditors on giving up 
every thing he had, he appears to have persevered to 
the end of his life in the endeavour to pay off the full 
amount of his debts, and to have succeeded to a great 
extent in effecting that object. About a dozen years 
after his bankruptcy, he states in one of his publications, 
that “ with a numerous family, aud no helps but his 
own industry, he had forced his way with undiscouraged 
diligence through a sea of misfortunes, and reduced his 
debts, exclusive of composition, from seventeen thou- 
sand to less than five thousand pounds.” He had mar- 
ried in 1687. | 

Although Defoe had come forth so early as a poli- 
tical writer, his next appearance from the press was 
in a different character. In 1697 he published a work 
bearing the title of ‘An Essay on Projects.’ It is 
full of new and ingenious schemes, connected not only 
with trade and commerce, but with education, literature, 
and the general interests of social improvement, ‘This 
same year, however, we find him re-entered upon his 
old field of politics, where he continued to diStinguish 
himself as the most active, the most able, and the most 
conspicuous, among a crowd of fellow-combatants, 
throughout a stormy period of about eighteen years. 
Our space will not permit us to follow him through the 
various incidents of this part of his history, or even 
to enumerate the productions of his fertile and un- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINEI. 


151 


wearied ‘pen. Subordinate and comparatively humble 
as was the sphere in which he moved, and exposed 
as he was from his circumstances to all sorts of 
temptations, Defoe’s political career was distineuished 
by a consistency, a disinterestedness, and an ludepen- 
dence, which have never been surpassed, and but rarely 
exemplified to the same degree_by those occupying the 
highest stations in the direction of national affairs. His 
principles repeatedly drew upon him obloquy, danger, 
persecution, and punishment, both in the shape of per- 
sonal and petuniary suffering, and in that of stioma and 
degradation; but nothing ever scared him from their 
courageous avowal and maintenance. The injustice he 
met with on more than one occasion was not more 
shocking from its cruelty than from its absurdity. 

It was on the 19th of February, 1704, during his im- 
prisonment on a conviction for publishing a satirical 
pamphlet, entitled ‘Phe Shortest Way with the Dis- 
senters, that he commenced his political paper, enti- 
tled, first, a ‘Review of the Affairs of France,’ and 
afterwards, (namely from Ist January, 1706,) a ‘ Review 
of the State of the English Nation.’ It was originally 
published cnly once a week, but at last appeared every 
Tuesday, ‘Thursday, and Saturday, printed on a half sheet, 
or four quarto pages. ‘l’o the political news and dis- 
quisitions, was regularly appended a short chronicle of 
domestic incidents; and the whole was written by 
Defoe himself. ‘The work was continued till the com- 
pletion of the ninth volume in May, 1713; when a tax 
which had recently been imposed, the same which pro- 
bably occasioned the dropping of the Spectator, (see 
Penny Magazine, vol. i. p. 147,) induced the author to 
bring it to a termination. He was then in Newgate for 
the second time. Defoe’s Review, which, at its com- 
mencement at least, had very great success, has been 
usually regarded as the parent, and in some respects the 
model of the Spectator, But it has not enjoyed the 
eood fortune of that celebrated work ; for while the Spec- 
tator has been reprinted many. times, a perfect copy 
of the Review, we believe, is not now known to exist. 
There are only the first six of the nime volumes in the 
Museum. But many other works proceeded from Defoe’s 
pen while he was engdeed with this publication. Among 
the most remarkable of these ‘was his poem in twelve 
books, entitled ‘ Jure Divino,’ an able attack on the notion. 
of the divine right of kings,—and his History of the 
Union with Scotland, an event in the negotiating of which 
he had a considerable share, having been sent down by 
eovernment to Edinburgh for that purpose. Defoe 
appears to have accounted his services on this occasion 
among the most important he had been able to render to 
his country; and probably few individuals of that day 
saw so clearly the advantages of the arrangement which 
thus converted the two nations into one people. 

Conformably to the fate which had pursued him through 
life, the accession of the house of Hanover, although the 
end and consummation, it may be said, of all his political 
labours, instead of bringing hiin honours and rewards, 
consiened him only to neglect and poverty. The treat- 
ment he met with seems to have affected his health, 
though it could not break his spirit, In 1715 he was 
struck with apoplexy, and for some time it was appre- 
hended that he would not recover from the attack. The 
streneth of his constitution, however, which had been 
sustained by a life of uusullied correctness and tempe- 
rance, carried him through. But he was now resolved to 
abandon politics, and to employ his pen for the future 
on less ungrateful themes. ‘The extraordinary effect of 
this determination was to enable him, by a series of 
works which he began to produce after he had reached 
nearly the age of sixty, to eclipse all that he had formerly 
done, and to secure to himself a fame which has extended 
as far aud will last as long as the language in which he 
wrote. Robinson Crusoe, the first of his admirable fic- 
tions, appeared in 1719. The reception of it, says Mir, 


152 


Chalmers, “‘ was immediate and universal; and Taylor, 
who purchased the manuscript after every bookseller had 
refused it, is said to have eained a thousand pounds.” 
It has ever since continued, as every reader knows, to be 
one of the most popular books in the English tongue, 
the delight alike of all ages, and enchaining the attention 
by a charm hardly possessed in the same degree by any 
similar work. Other productions in the saine vein, and 
niore or less ably executed, followed in rapid succession 
from the pen of the industrious and inexhaustible author. 
Among them are especially to be inentioned his Journal 
of the Plague, a fictitious narrative, published in 1722, 
which is said to have deceived Dr. Mead, and to have 
been taken by, him for a true history; lus Memoirs of a 
Cavalier, which appeared the saine year; and his Life of 
Colonel -Jack; published the year following. All these 
narratives, the mere fabrications of the writer’s invention, 
are distinguished by an air of nature and truth, which it 
is almost impossible during the perusal not to take for 
eenuine. Defoe died in his native parish on the 24th 
(not as has been often stated the 26th) of April, 1731, 
and consequently in Ins 70th or 71st. year. 
buried in Bunhill Fields, then called. 'Tindall’s Burying- 
vround. He left several children, the descendants of 
some of whom still survive. ; It is lamentable to think 
that he appears after all lis exertions to have:died insol- 
vent. ‘The vast:amount of his literary labours: may in 
some degree be conceived from the fact, that the list of 


his publications given by Mr. Wilson, his latest bio-. 


erapher, contains no fewer than 210 articles, and. it is 
believed not to be. complete. 
written In Circumstances of great privation and distress. 
In the preface to his poem.of ‘Jure Divino, . occurs the 
following ailecting passage, with which we shall conclude 
our notice :——“ I shall say but very little in the defence of 


the performance but:this: it has been wrote under’ the 


heaviest weight of intolerable pressures; .the ‘greatest 
part of it was composed in prison ; and asthe author has 
unhappily felt the most violent and constant efforts of 
his enemies to destroy him ever since that, the little 
composure he has had must be his short excuse for any 
thing incorrect.: Juct any man, under millions of dis- 
tracting cares, and the constant ill-treatment of the world, 
consider the power of such. circumstances over both in- 
vention and expression, he ‘will then allow that I had 
been to be excused, even in worse‘ errors than are to be 
found in this book.” ... 5 


AYE. 











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Uy 


Yj 


fuk of ‘th 7 . 
j/ y | : 
fy f 

~ a / “ a ‘eg 


Uy 


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, [Portrait of Defoe.] 


THE PENNY 


He was. 


Many of these works were | 


MAGAZINE. [Apriz 20, 1833, 


INVENTION OF PAPER. 


Tuere is no country which has not had its learned and 
elaborate inquirers as to the means through which Eu- 
rope became acquainted, sometime about the eleventh 
century, with the article of paper. Casiri, however, 
whilst employed in translating Arabic writers, has dis- 
covered the real place from which paper came. It 
has been known in China, where its constituent part is — 
silk, from time immemorial. In the thirtieth year of the 
Hegira, (in the middle of the seventh century,) a manu- 
factory of similar paper was established at Samarcand ; 
and in 706, fifty-eight years afterwards, one Youzef 
Amri, of Mecca, discovered the art of making it with 
cotton, an article more commonly used in Arabia than 
silk. This is clearly proved by the following passage 
from Muhamad Al Gazeli’s ‘ De Arabicarum Antiquita- 
tum Eruditione :——“ In the ninety-eighth year of the 
Hegira,” says he, ‘a certain Joseph Amrit first of all 
invented paper .in the city of Mecca, and taught the 
Arabs the use of it.’ And as an additional proof, that 
the Arabians, and not the Greeks of the lower empire, 
as it has long been affirmed, were the inventors of cot- 
ton paper, if may. be observed that a Greek of great 
learning, whom Montfaucon mentions as having been 
employed-in forming a catalogue of the old MSS. in the 
king’s library at Paris, in the reign of Henry II., always 
calls the article ‘ Damascus Paper.’ ‘The subsequent 
invention of paper, made from hemp or flax, has given 
rise to equal controversy.’ . Maffei and ‘Tiraboschi have 
claimed the honour in behalf of. Italy, and Sealiger and 
Meermann, for.Germany; but none of these writers ad- 
duce any instance ‘of its use anterior to the fourteenth 
century. By far the oldest in France is a letter from 
Joinville to St..Louis, which was written a short time 
before the decease of that monarch in 1270. J:xam- 
ples of the use of modern paper in’Spain, date from a 
century before that time; and it may ‘be sufficient to 
quote, from the numerous instances cited by Don Gre- 
gorio Mayans, a treaty of peace concluded between Al- 
fonso II. of Aragon, and Alfonso IX. of Castille, which 
is preserved in the ‘archives at Barcelona, and bears 
date in the year 1178; to this we may add, the fueros 
(privileges) granted to Valencia by James the Con- 
queror, in 1251. ‘The paper in question came from the 
Arabs, who, on their arrival in Spain, where both silk 
and cotton were equally rare, made it of hemp and flax. 
Their first manufactories were established at Xativa, the 
San Felipe of the prescnt day; a town of high repute in 
ancient times, as Pliny and Strabo report, for its fabri- 
cation of cloth. Edrisi observes, when speaking of 
Xativa, “ Excellent and incomparable paper is likewise 
made here.’”” Valencia too, the plains of which produce 
an abundance of flax, possessed manufactories a short 
time afterwards; and Catalonia was not long in follow- 
ing the example. ‘ Indeed the two latter provinces at 
this moment furnish the best paper in Spain. ‘The use 
of the article, made from flax, did uot reach Castille 
until the reign of Alfonso X., in the middle of the 
thirteenth century; and thence it cannot be questioned 
that it spread to France, and afterwards to Italy, Eng- 
land, and.Germany.: The Arabic MSS., which are of 
much older date than the Spanish, were most of them 
written on satin paper, and embellished with a quan- 
tity of ornamental work, painted in such gay and re- 
splendent colours, that the reader might behold his 
face reflected as if from a mirror.—Journal of Edu- 
cation, No. 10. 





o.° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields, 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALE-MALL EAST, 


Printed by Witiiam Ciowss, Stamford Street. . 


f 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE — 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 





68.1 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [[Aprin 27, 1833. 





RICHMOND CASTLE, YORKSHIRE. 


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Tur origin of the town of Richmond, in the North 
Riding of Yorkshire, dates from a few years after the 
conquest. Earl Edwin, who, before that event, possessed 
the part of the country in which Richmond is situated, 
was perhaps the most powerful of the Saxon nobles— 
being, in addition to the extensive lands of which he 
was lord, nearly allied by blood to the royal family. It 
was not to be supposed that a person occupying such a 
position as his would yield any thing beyond a forced 
submission to the Norman invaders. We find the 
young and brave Earl, accordingly, at the head of two 
vigorous attempts successively made by those of his 
nation, to recover the independence of their country, 
within the first three years after the arrival of William. 
He was pardoned for his participation in the first; but 
on the second occasion, after the revolt had been sup- 
pressed, he was betrayed by some persons in whose 
fidelity he had confided, and notwithstanding a gallant 
defence, overpowered and slain. His assassins carried 
his head to William, in hopes of obtaining a reward for 
the deed; when the stern Norman is said to have shed 
tears at the sight, and, instead of bestowing upon them 
preferment:- or gold, to have commanded that the per- 
petrators of the crime should be banished from the 
kingdom. Before this, however, he had stripped the 
Saxon Earl of his broad domains, and transferred them 
to a follower and kinsman of his own, Alan, Count of 
Bretagne, to whom he also sometime after gave his 
daughter Hawise in marriage. By this gift it is said, 
that Count Alan was put in possession of no fewer than 
two hundred manors and townships. It was he who, to 
protect himself and his property from the hostile popu- 
lation, in the midst of whom he came to establish him- 
self, built the Castle of Richmond, around which the 
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town was probably soon formed by his Norman re- 
tainers. 

After Alan’s death, the earldom of Richmond de- 
scended to a son of Hawise by a former husband, she 
having left no children by the Count of Bretagne. After 
this the dienity was held successively by various families. 
It was at length erected into a dukedom by Henry VIII. 
in favour of his natural son by the daughter of Sir John 
Blount, who died in 1535 at the age of seventeen. The 
dukedom fell to the present family in the reign of 
Charles II., and with it the Castle of Richmond. 

The castle has long been a complete ruin, Leland, 
who saw it in 1534, speaks of it in his Itinerary as even 
then fallen into decay and deserted. Yet it does not 
appear to have suffered from any siege, or other species 
of violence. Neelect alone would seem to have reduced 
it to its present condition. It certainly has not been 
inhabited at least since the year 1485, when it came 
into the possession of the crown, by the accession of 
Henry VII, who was previously Earl of Richmond. 

The town and castle stand on elevated ground on the 
north bank of the river Swale. The-site of the castle, 
which is between the river and the town, occupies @ 
space of about six acres. Jixcept on the north side, or 
that next the town, the fortress from the natural ad- 
vantages of its position, must have been quite inac- 
cessible. 'The ground on which it is built is elevated to 
the height of fully one hundred feet above the stream, 
the precipice being broken into two parts about midway 
down by a walk eight or nine feet broad, which runs 
under the castle wall. ‘The portion of the hill above the 
walk is faced with large stones, so as to give it almost 
the appearance of a rock,” On the west side of the 
castle is.a deep valley, which is probably oath and 


RRA, 


: ' 
Lid | THE PENNY MAGAZINE, [APRIL 27, 
the Swale also winds round the east side, where tlie Viewed from the surrounding hills the town and castle 


desceut is much mere gradual. On the north there was ; of’? Richmond, notwithstanding their elevation above 
formerly a moat, which llowever has been long filled up | the ground in their immediate neighbourhood, seem to 
aud obliterated. ‘The whole was originally gurranfided lie at the bottom of a valley. It is extremely proba- 
by a high wall, strengthened at intervals with towers, | ble that the place has derived its name, Richmont, or 
aud ineasurine not less than half a mile in extent. the Rich Mount, from its eminent natural attractions. 
For a lone time after its erection Richmond Castle | Richmoud in Surrey is said to have been so named in 
was probably unrivalled in England for either extent or | a much later age on the same account. ‘Lhe scenery 
streneth. It was a military stronghold, constructed in | around the latter celebrated spot, however, it has been 
every “part with a view to defence. “The old barons lived | remarked, differs essentially in character from that in the 
here in'the condition of petty sovereigns, and kept the | midst of which the Yorkshire Richmond is placed,—the 
surrounding couutry in awe and subjection for many beautiful being the prevailing ingredient in the one, while 
miles ai from their impregnable fortress. of the other landscape, a wild and stern grandeur may 
‘The principal portion of the edifice that now remains | rather be said to be the predominant expression. With 
is all immense square tower on the nor th side, said to | this, which is however intermingled and relieved in manv 
nave been built about the middle of the twelfth century. ; places by. the richest attractions of a softer kind, the old 
t measures fifty-four feet in one direction, by. torty- -eiglit | aud frowning ruin, to which our notice relates, is adini- 
in another; aud the walls are ninety-nine feet in. height, rably in keeping. 
and eleven in thickness. Above these pinnacles rise 
from the four corners. This tower has consisted orlgi- | 
lially of three stories, the lowest of which is supported [3 
by a massive stone pillar placed under the centre of its 
arched roof. ‘Fhe roofs of the two upper stories have | 
fallen im; and a winding staircase, which formerly n10 


“= 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szction 7. 


In the sketch we have given of the Secondary and ‘Ter 
tiary Rocks, i in speaking of the organic, remains whicli 
they contain, we have done little more than mention the 
existence of certain, classes, as they appear in the order 
of succession. But there are circumstances connected 
with these bodies so very important, as. regards the his- 
tory of our planet, that even a very brief outline of geo- 
logy. would be incomplete, \ were they left unnoticed. “We 


in depth. And there is another ‘tower at the south- west shail endeavour, in a subsequent section, to lay before 
corner, round and narrow, and of consideraple height, to | our readers some of, the most remarkable results which 
which there is no entrance except from the ae It was | the researches . of e‘colog ists in this department have 
probably used,as a prison. | broug ht to light. , = 1. 


Luined and desolate as it is, the a wspect of Richmond We gave, In our second section, a kind of taoular 
Castle is still singularly majestic and imposing. Its 


view of the order of succession in the stratified rocks, 
venerable antiquity, its vast extent, its commanding and having now completed our, sketch of the different 
position, and the massiveness and lofty altitude of those groups of strata, we shall. exhibit, not an ideal, but a 
parts of the structure which time has not yet overthrown, | real, section of apart of England, which will at once 
all contribute to fill the mind with a sense of sublimity | convey, far more intelligibly than any verbal description, 
In gazing upon its broken arches and ivy-mantied or a very correct notion of the manner in which the strata 
The effect is powerfully aided by the character of the now present themselves, when we penetrate the crust of 
surrounding landscape, which, towards the north-west { the earth, or view them in those precipices on the sea- 
especially, “has much of the grandeur of hithland shore, Or 1n mountainous districts, where natural sections 
scenery. { are exposed. 


doubt ascended to the top, now reaches only to the height 
of the middle apartment. There is a well of exce ellent 
water within this tower. At the south-east corner of 
the castle there is the ruin of a smaller tower, in the 


bottom of which is formed a dungeon about fourteen feet 





es 


ogy, 


a 


(No. 6.)— SECTION OF THE STRATIFIED AND UNSTRATIFIED Rocks FROM THE LAND'S END IN CORNWALL 
TO THE COAST OF SUFFOLK. 


Land’s End. 


fy V ; vt 
: 7 A (OSE LONI ALT) Ts; (MER 
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German 
Ocean. 





t 


yim reid WI vill Shs erve-that the above four parts irae low letters ies Vv where they unite A joins to BR, C 
Helou to- oné continuous: line, whieh h as been broken, | tp PD; and HelQadhin Mi 1S ‘taken. from the excellent work 
in order toudapt it to the form ¢f our'page, but the | of Coneybeare and Phillips oli tlie Geology of England 


be tt . 


1833.] 


and Wales, and those who have. access to that book will 


perhaps understaud the section better, as it is there given, 
the colours and names rendering it more clear. There are 
also other instructive sections in the same plate. It 
must not be supposed that any such section as that 
represented here is to be seen: it is constructed by 
putting together an extensive series of exact observations 
and measurements at detached points along the line, made, 
however, with such care, that if the land were actually 
cut down, it is very unlikely that any of the creat fea- 
tures would be found to be erroneous. Suppose then 
that a line be drawn from the Land’s End to Bendley 
Hill, on the east coast, near Harwich, not absolutely 
straight, but passing over all the creat features of the 
country that lie between the two points, at a short dis- 
tance on either side of an imaginary central line; and 
that a vertical section were made, to a depth in some 
piace, as far below the level of the sea, as we have pene- 
trated in our deepest mines—the precipice thus exposed 
would present such an arrangement of the strata as is 
exhibited in the above diagram. It is necessary, how- 
ever, to state that neither the horizontal distances nor the 
vertical elevations can be given in such a diagram in 
their true proportions. To do so, the paper must have 
been many yards long, and several feet in height. The 
order of position, and the succession of the strata as they 
lie over each other, are, however, truly given; and 
nothing would be gained for the illustration of the facts 
the section is intended to represent, by increasing either 
the length or height. The horizontal line represents 
the level of the sea. “We shall now travel along the line 
of section, beginning our journey at the Land’s End in 
Cornwall. We shall thus, as. we move eastward, meet 
the different groups of strata in the order of succession 
we have already described, ‘and shall find the tertiary 
rocks on the shores of the German ocean. 

Fig. A is that portion of the section which extends 
from the Land’s End to the western slope of Dartmoor 
Forest, north of 'Tavistock,—crossing Mount’s Bay to 
Marazion, Redruth, Truro, and north of Grampound 
and Lostwithiel. The principal rock is primary slate, 
a, which is in highly inclined strata, and is traversed by 
numerous metallic veins and great veins or dykes of 
granite and other unstratified rocks, 6 and c, the granite 
also forming great mountain masses that rise in some 
instances to the height of 1368 feet above the sea, and in 
many places the great masses of eranite are seen to send 
up shoots in numerous and frequently slender ramifica- 
tions into the superincumbent slate. 

Fig. B C contains that part of the section which lies 
between a point some miles north of Tavistock, and the 
summit of the Mendip Hills in Somersetshire, passing 
near Tiverton, Milverton, Nether Stowey, and Cheddar. 
_ On the left or western part, we find a continuation of the 
slaty rocks, a, traversed by veins of whinstone, c, and then 
we come upon a mass of granite, 6, forming the lofty 
mountain group of Dartmoor Forest. This is flanked 
on the east by the sameslate that occurs on the west, and 
containing veins of whinstone, c, and subordinate beds 
of limestone, d. The slate continues without. interrup- 
tion for many miles, as far east as the Quantock Hills, 
near Nether Stowey, where it is seen for the last time on 
this line of section, being succeeded by the secondary 
rocks. A great part of the slate belongs to that lowest 
group of the secondary rocks called transition, in which 
the rock Grawwacke prevails, from which the group has 
been named. On each side of the Quantock Hills are 
deposits of rounded pebbles of grauwacke and limestone 
cemented together, ea. To the slate, a, succeeds the 
old red sandstone group, jf, followed by the mountain 
limestone group, g. The strata of these rocks soon after 
their deposition, must have been violently acted upon, for 
they are thrown up in such a manner as to form a trough 
or basin, as it is called in geological language, and in this 


i 


THE PENNY 


trough there are found the red marl eroup 2 and the 
lowest member of the oolite group, the lias limestone, U. 
Hére we miss a member of the series which should have 
come between the mountain limestone and the red marl, 
viz. the coal group—this is a blank of very frequent oc- 
currence, but we shall find it in its richt place on the 
other side of the Mendip Hills. These are cut through 
on the right of the figure, and are seen to be composed 
of old red sandstone in the centre, covered on their sides 
by mountain limestone. 

Fig. D E represents that part of the section which lies 
between the Mendip Hills and Shotover Hill near Ox- 
ford. On the west we see the old red sandstone group 
in the centre of the Mendip ridge, and that it is succeeded 
by a very instructive section of the great coal-field of 
Somersetshire. Here, as on the west side of the Mendip 
Hills, the old red sandstone and mountain limestone 
groups have been acted upon by such a force from below, 
that they have been thrown up in opposite directions, and 
have formed a trough. As the coal measures, ht, partake 
of the curvature, it is evident that the disturbance took 
place subsequently to their deposition, but it must have 
been prior to that of the next group, for the red marl 
beds, 7, are deposited in unconformable stratification 
upon the turned-up ends of the strata of the coal group. 
The red marl group is covered by the portions of the 
lowest bed of the oolite group, k, indicating some power- 
ful action at the surface, which has caused the removal 
of the connecting portions of the oolite beds, leaving 
insulated masses on the summits of high hills. This last 
occurrence of a mass of an horizontal stratum capping 
a lofty hill is very frequent, for the surface of the earth 
exhibits many proofs of its having been acted upon by 
water in motion, which has scooped out valleys and 
washed away vast tracts of solid earth. But snch mountain 
caps have been also sometimes produced by the elevation 
of the mountain, a portion of rock being carried up to a 
great elevation, which had been a part of an extensively 
continuous stratum at a lower level. This deposit of 
the coal group is succeeded as we proceed eastward by 
the red marl group, restine in unconformable stratifica- 
tion on the ends of the old red sandstone, two interme- 
diate groups being thus wanting, and this is followed 
for many miles by successive members of the oolite group, 
f, inclined at a low angle. : 

Fig. I. ‘The oolite group continues from Shotover 
Hill to the neighbourhood of Aylesbury, where it is suc- 


ceeded by the sands, clays, and marls, which form the 


inferior members of the chalk group, m. Near Tring 
the chalk with flints emerges, forming the lofty hill of 
Ivinghoe, which is 904 feet above the level of the sea, 
and it continues uninterruptedly to Dunmow in Essex. 
Here the secondary rocks terminate, and the chalk is 
covered by very thick beds of clay, 2, which form the 
lowest members of the tertiary strata, and continuing on 
to the sea, appear in the cliffs of the coasts of Essex and 
Suffolk. , 

In the greater part of the country through which the 
above section has been carried, it will be seen that no 
unstratified rocks rise to the surface after we leave the 
district of Dartmoor Forest. That they exist below the 
strata, and that their protrusion towards the surface has 
been the cause of the disturbance of the sedimentary de- 
posits exhibited by this section, is at least extremely 
probable, for we find them coming to the surface from 
under several of these strata in other parts of Great 
Britain. 

In the diagram No. 1,’ representing the general 
order of succession of the stratified rocks, we have 
selected examples of their occurrence from our own ter- 
ritory,.in order to give our readers an opportunity of 
examining the rocks when they happen to be near the 
spots mentioned, and to show that our island affords 
almost an epitome of the mineral structure of the crust 
ih Xo 


=. 


156 


of the globe. There are some rocks of great extent 
found on the Continent which have not yet been ob- 
served in Great Britain, but they are only subordinate 
members of one of the “groups we have mentioned. 
With the exception of these, some of the supenor mem- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[APRIL 27 


bers of the tertiary series, and the products of active 


| volcanoes, Great Britain and Ireland afford an ample 


field for studying almost every thing that: is most im- 
portant in the science of gcology. 


ce 





THE ORANG-OUTANG. 





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Or the animals commonly called four-footed, or quad- 
vupeas, there is a family or genus comprehending 
upwards of a hundred different species, to which, upon 
a more accurate examination of the structure of their 
extremities, the popular designation appears to be incor- 
rectly applied. The anterior extremities of monkeys are 
‘furnished, as is well known, with fingers, and a thumb 
capable of being opposed to these fingers, the whole 
bearing a striking resemblance to the human hand; and 
the same structure is observed in a tribe of animals 
nearly allied in external character to monkeys, called 
lemurs. 
distinguished; but we find also, on examining their 
hinder extremities, that instead of having a great toe 
placed parallel with the others, they are furnished with 
a real thumb, thatis, a part capable of being opposed 
to the other toes. Hence the parts corresponding to the 
hind-feet of other animals are, more properly speaking, 
hands; and the whole family of animals distinguished 


by this structure has been called by naturalists quadru- 


manous, or four-handed. 


Of the whole tribe of quadrumanous animals, the 
orang-outang is that which approaches most nearly in 


Not only are their anterior extremities thus 


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” . : . jer’ s ‘ i 
(The Orang-Outang. From a Sketch of a live Specimen. ; , _ 


above is a portrait of an individual exhibited about two 
years ago™*, ; . at . 

In the year 1817 an orang-outang was brought to this 
country from Java by Dr. Abel, to whom we are in- 
debted for a more scientific and_ instructive, as well as 
interesting and entertaining account of the structure and 
habits of this animal than is to be found in the writings 
of any other traveller or naturalist. This animal sur 
vived his transportation to this country from August, 
1817, when he arrived, to the Ist of April, 1819, during 
which interval he was in the custody of Mr. Cross at 
Exeter Change, as much caressed for the gentleness of 
his disposition, as esteemed by scientific visitors of Mr. 
Cross’s Menagerie for his great rarity. 

It may be necessary, says Dr. Abel t, to acquaint some 
of my readers that the orang-outang of Borneo has been 
confounded by many writers with an animai that inha- 
bits Africa, and which has also been called orang-outang, 
but is more correctly known by the name of Pongo. 
The pongo, which has been minutely described by ‘Tyson, 


? 


| *.The orang-outang in this cut is ‘represented as washing his 


| hands. The attitude is taken from a description given in a singular 
—,. | book, entitled ‘ The Adventures of a Younger Son,’ : 
structure and organization to the human subject. The ' 


+ Narrative of a Journey in the interior of China, &c. p. 319. 


1833. } 


differs anatomically from the subject of this description, 
and in having large ears and black hair. 

Orang-outang is a Malay phrase, sienifyinge “ wild 
man, and should therefore be restricted to the animal 
which, according to our present information, is found 
exclusively on Borneo. 

The height of the animal, judging from is leneth 
when laid on a flat surface and measured from his heel 
to the crown of his head, is two feet seven inches. 

The hair of the orang-outang is of.a brownish red 
colour, and covers his back,’ arms, lees, and outside of 
his hands and feet. On the back it is in sonie places six 
inches long, and on his arms five. It is thinly scattered 
over the back of his hands and feet, and is very short. 
It is directed downwards on the back, upper arm, and 
legs, and upwards on the fore-arm. It is directed from 
behind forwards on the head, and inwards on the inside 
of the thighs. . The face has no hair, except on its sides, 
somewhat in the manner. of whiskers, and a very thin 
beard. ‘The middle of the breast and belly was naked 
on his arrival in England, but has since become hairy. 
The shoulders, elbows; and knees have fewer hairs than 
other parts of the arms and legs. The:palms of the 
hands and feet are quite naked. == «st 

The prevailing colour of the animal’s ‘skin, when 
naked or’seen through the hair, is a bluish grey. .The 
eyelids and margin of the mouth are of a lieht copper-. 
colour. ‘The inside of his hands and feet are of a, deep 
copper-colour.. ‘I'wo copper-coloured stripes pass:from 
the arm-pits down each side of the body as low’as the 
navel, . ae : i. » cal 

‘The head, viewed in front, -is pear-shaped, expanding 
from the chin upwards, the cranium being’ much the 
lareer end. The eyes are close torether,'of an oval form, 
and dark brown colour. The eyelids are fringed with 
,ashes, and the lower ones are saccular and wrinkled. 
The nose is confluent: with the face, except at the nos- 
trils, which are but little elevated; their openings are 
narrow and oblique. The mouth is very projecting, and 
of a roundish mammillary form. Its opening: is large, 
but when closed is marked by little more than a narrow 
seam. :The lips are very narrow, and scarcely percep- 
tible when the mouth is shut. The chin projects less 
than the mouth; below.it a pendulous membrane gives 
the appearance of a double chin, and swells out when 
the animal is angry or much pleased. Each of the jaws: 
contains twelve teeth, namely, four incisive teeth, the 
two middle ones of the upper jaw being twice the width 
of the lateral, two canine and six double teeth. ‘The 
ears are small, closely resembling the human ear, and 
have their lower margins in the same line with the 
external angles of theeyes, 

The chest is wide when compared to the pelvis; the 
belly is very protuberant. The arms are long in pro- 
portion to the heicht of the animal, their span measuring 
full four feet seven inches and ahalf. ‘The legs are short 
when compared with the arms. a mos 

The hands are long when compared with their width 
and with the human hand; the fingers are small and 
tapering ; the thumb is very short, scarcely reaching the 
first joint of the fore-finger. All the fingers have very 
perfect nails of a blackish colour and oval form, and 
exactly terminating with the extremities of the fingers. 
The feet are long, resemble hands in the palms and in 
having fingers rather than toes, but have heels resem- 
bling the human. The great toes are very short, are 
set on at right angles to the feet close to the heel, and 
are entirely without nails. a’ vo 

The orane-outane of Borneo is utterly incapable of 
walking in a perfectly erect posture. He betrays this 
in his whole exterior conformation, and never wilfully 
attempts to counteract this tendency. His head leaning 
forwards, and forming a considerable angle with the back, 


throws the centre of gravity so far beyond the perpen- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. | 





157 


dicular, that his arms, like the fore-legs of other animals, 
are required to support the body. -So difficult, indeed, 
is it for him to keep the upright position for a few 
seconds, under the direction of his keeper, that he is 
oblived, in the performance of his task, to raise ‘his 
arms above his head and throw them behind him to keep 
his balance. His progressive motion on a flat surface 
is accomplished by placing his bent fists upon the ground, 
and drawing his body between his arms; moving in this 
manner he strongly resembles a, person. decrepit in the 
lees supported on stilts. In a state of nature he pro- 
bably selc: m moves along the ground, his whole external 
configuration showing his fitness for climbing trees and 
clinging to their branches. ‘The length and_ pliability of 
his tingers and toes enable him to grasp with facility and 
steadiness, and the force of his muscles empowers him 
to support his body fora great Jength of time by one 
hand or foot. He can thus pass from one fixed object 
to another at the distance of a span from each other, and 


can obviously pass from one branch of a tree to another 


through a much greater interval.. In sitting on a flat 


‘surface, this animal turns his legs under him. _ In sitting 


on the branch of a tree or on a rope he rests on his 
heels, his body leaning forward against his thighs. This 
animal uses his hands like others of the monkey tribe. 
The orang-outang, on his arrival in Java, was allowed 
to be. entirely at liberty till within a day or two ot 
being put on board the Cesar to be conveyed to England, 
and. whilst at laree made no attempt to escape, but. 
became violent when put into a large railed bamboo 
cage, for the purpose of being. conveyed from the island. 


‘As soon as he felt himself in confinement he took the 


rails of the cage into his hands, and shaking them vio-: 


‘lently endeavoured to break them in pieces; but finding, 


that: they did not yield generally, he tried them sepa- 
rately, and havine discovered one weaker than the rest,. 
worked at it constantly till he had broken it, and made. 
his escape. On board ship an’ attempt being made 
to secure him by a chain tied to a strong staple, he. 
instantly unfastened it, and ran off with the chain drag- 
sine behind; but finding himself embarrassed by its 
leneth, he coiled it once or twice, and threw it over his. 
shoulder. ‘This feat. he often repeated; and when. he 
found that it would not remain on his shoulder, he took 
it into his mouth. heed | 

After several abortive attempts to secure him more 
effectually, he was allowed to wander freely about the 
ship, and soon became familiar with the sailors, and sur- 
passed them in agility. ‘They often chased him about 
the rigging, and gave him frequent opportunities of dis- 
playing his adroitness in managing an escape. On first 
starting he would endeavour to outstrip his pursuers by 
mere speed, but when much pressed elude them by 
seizing a loose rope, and swinging out of their reach. 
At other times he would patiently wait on the shrouds, 
or at the mast-head, till his pursuers almost touched him, 
and then sudderily lower himself to the deck by any rope 
that was near him, or bound along the mainstay from 
one mast to the other, swinging by his hands, and moving 
them one over the other. ‘The men would often shake 
the ropes by which he clung with so much violence as 
to make me fear his falling, but I soon found that the 
power of his muscles could not be easily overcome. When 
in a playful humour he would often swing within arm s- 
leneth of his pursuer, and having struck him with his 
hand, throw himself from him. - __.. wi 

Whilst in Java he lodged in a large tamarind-tree 
near my dwelling, and formed a bed by intertwining the 
small branches, and covering them with leaves. During 
the day he would lie with. his head projecting beyond 
his nest, and watching whoever might pass under, and 
when he saw any one with fruit would descend to obtain 
a share of it. He always retired for the night at sun- 
set, or sooner if he had been well fed, and rose with 


158 


the sun, and visited those from whom he habitually 
received food. ‘ 
On board ship he commonly slept at the mast-head, 
after wrapping himself in a sail; in making his bed he 
used the greatest pains to remove every thing out of his 
way that mieht render the surface on which he intended 
to lie uneven; and having satisfied himself with this part 
of his arrangement spread out the sail, and lying down 
upon it on his’back drew it over his body. Sometimes 
I pre-occupied his bed, and teased him by refusing’ to 
give it up. On these occasions he would endeavour to 
pull the sail from under me, or to force me from it, and 
would not rest till I had resigned it. If it was large 
enough for both he would quietly lie by my side. Tf all 
the sails happened to be set he would hunt about for 
some other covering, and either steal one of the sailor's 


jackets or shirts that happened to be dry, or empty a- 


hammock of its blankets. Off the Cape of Good Hope 
he suffered much from low temperature, especially early 
in the morning, when he would descend from the mast 
shuddering with cold, and running up to any one of his 
friends climb into their arms, and clasping them closely, 
derive warmth from their persons, screaming violently at 
any attempt to remove him. 

His food in Java was ‘chiefly fruit, especially man- 
gostans, of which he was exceedingly fond. He also 
sucked egos with voracity, and often employed himself 
in seeking them. On board ship his diet was of no 
definite kind. He ate readily of all kinds of meat, and 
especially raw meat; was very fond of bread, but always 
preferred frnits when he could obtain them. - 

His beverage in Java was water; on board ship it 
was as diversified as his food. He preferred coffee or tea, 
but would readily take wine; and exemplified his at- 
tachment to spirits by stealing the captain’s brandy- 
bottle. After his arrival in London he preferred beer 
and milk to any thing else, but drank wine and other 
liquors. , | 

In his attempts to obtain food he offered us many op- 
pertunities of judging of his sagacity and disposition. 
Ne was always very impatient to seize it when held out 
to him, and became passionate when it was not soon 
given up, and would chase a person all over the ship to 
obtain it. I seldom came on deck without sweatmeats 
or fruits in my pocket, and could never escape his vigi- 
lant eye. Sometimes I endeavoured to evade him by 
ascending to the mast-head, but was always overtaken or 
intercepted in my progress. When he came up with me 
on theshrouds, he would secure’ himself by one‘foot to 
the rattling, and confine my lees with the other, and one 
of his hands, whilst he rifled my pockets. If. he found it 
impossible to overtake me, he would climb to a con- 
siderable height on the loose rigging, and then drop 
suddenly upon me. Or if, perceiving his intentions, I 
attempted to descend, he would slide down a rope, and 
meet me at the bottom of the shrouds. Sometimes I 
fastened an orange to the end of a rope, and lowered it 
to the deck from the mast-head, and as soon as he at- 
tempted to seize it, drew it rapidly. After being several 
times foiled in endeavouring to obtain it by direct means, 
he altered his plan. Appearing to care little about it, he 
would remove to some distance, and ascend the rigging 
very leisurely for some time, and then by a sudden 
spring catch the rope which held it. If defeated again 
by my suddenly jerking the rope, he would at first seem 
quite in despair, relinquish his effort, and rush about the 
rigging’ screaming violently. But he would always re- 
turn, and again seizing the rope, disregard the jerk, and 


allow it to run through his hand till within reach of the 


orange; but if arain foiled would come to my side, and 


taking me by the arm, confine it whilst he hauled the 


orange up. . 
This animal neither practises the grimace and antics 
of other monkeys, nor possesses their perpetual prone- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE.’ 


[Apri 27, 


ness to mischief. Gravity approaching to melancholy 
and mildness were sometimes strongly expressed in his 
countenance, and seemed to be the characteristics of his 
disposition. When he first came among strangers he 
would sit for hours with his hand upon his head, looking 
pensively at all around him; or when much incommoded 
at their examination, would hide himself beneath any 
covering that was at hand. His mildness was evinced 
by his forbearance under injuries which ‘were grievous 
before he was excited to revenge; but he always avoided 
those who often teased him. le soon became strongly 
attached to those who used him kindly. By their sidé 
he was fond of sitting, and, getting as close as possible 
to their persons, would take their hands between his lips, 
and fly to them for protection. Irom the boatswain of 
the Alceste, who shared his meals with him, and was his 
chief favourite, although he sometimes purloined the 
grog and the biscuit of his benefactor, he learned to eat 
with a spoon, and might be often seen sitting at his 
cabin-door enjoying his coffee quite unembarrassed by 
those who observed him, and with a grotesque and sober 
air that seemed a burlesque on human nature. ; 

Next to the boatswain I was perhaps his most intimate 
acquaintance: he would always follow me to the mast- 
head, whither I often went for the sake of reading apart 
from the noise of the ship; and having satisfied himself 
that my pockets contained no eatables, would lie down 
by my side, and pulling a topsail entirely over him, 
peep from it occasiouaily to watch my movements. 

His favourite amusement in Java was in swinging 
from the branches of trees, in passing from one tree to 
another, and in climbing over the roofs of houses; on 
board in hanging by his arms from the ropes, and in 
romping with the boys of the ship. He would entice 
them into play by striking them with his hand as they 
passed, and bounding from them, but allowing them to 
overtake him, and engaging in a mock scuffle, in which. 
he used his hands, feet, and mouth. If any conjecture 
could be formed -from these frolics of his mode of at- 
tacking an adversary, it would appear to be his first 
object to throw him down, then to secure him with his 
hands and feet, and then wound him with his teeth. 

Of some small monkeys on board from Java he took 
little notice whilst under the observation of the persons 
of the ship. Once, indeed, he openly attempted to 
throw a small cage containing three of them overboard, 
because, probably, he had seen them receive food of 
which he could obtain no part. But although he held 
so little intercourse with them when under our inspection, 
I had reason to suspect that he was less indifferent to 
their society when free from observation, and was one 
day summoned to overlook him playing with a young 
male monkey. Lying on his back, partially covered 
with the sail, he for some time contemplated with creat 
gravity the eambols of the monkey, which bounded over 
him, but-at length caught him by the tail, and tried to 
envelope him in his covering; the monkey seemed to 
dislike the confinement and broke from him, but again 
renewed its gambols, and although frequently caught, 
always escaped. The intercourse, however, did not 
seem to be that of equals, for the orang-outane’ never 
condescended to romp with the monkey as he did with 
the boys of the ship. Yet the monkeys had evidently a 
great predilection for his company, for whenever they 
broke loose they took their way to ‘his resting-place, and 
were often seen lurking about it or creeping clandestinely 
towards him. ‘There appeared to be no gradation in 
their intimacy, as they appeared as confidently familiar 
with him when first observed as at the close of their 
acquaintance, 

'' But although so gentle, when not exceedingly irri- 
tated, the orang-outange could be excited‘to violent rage, 
which he expressed by opening his mouth, showing his 
teeth, and seizing and biting those whe were near him. 


1833,] 


Sometimes, indeed, he seemed to be almost driven. to 
desperation, and on two or three occasions committed an 
act which, in a rational being, would have been called 
the threatening of suicide. If repeatedly refused an 
orange when he attempted to take it, he would shriek 
violently and swing: furiously about the ropes, then re- 
turn and endeavour to obtain it; if again refused, he 
would roll for some time like an angry child upon the 
deck, uttering the most piercing screams, and then sud- 
denly starting up, rush furiously over the side of the 
ship and disappear. .On first witnessing this act, we 
thought he had thrown himself. into the sea, but, on a 
search being made, found him concealed under the 
chains. 

I have seen him exhibit violent alarm on two occa- | 
sious only, when he appeared to seek for safety in gaining | 
as high an elevation as possible. On seeing eight large 
turtle brought on board, whilst the Cesar was off the 
Island of Ascension, he climbed, with all possible speed, 
to a higher part of the ship than he had ever. before | 
reached, and looking down upon them; projected his | 
long lips into the form of a hog’s snout, uttering at the | 
same time a sound which might be described as between | 
the croaking of a frog and the grunting of a pig. After | 
some time he ventured to descend, but with great 
caution, peeping continually at the turtle, but could not | 
be induced to approach within many yards of them. He | 
ran to the same height, and uttered the same sounds, on | 


seeing some men bathing and splashing in the sea; and { 


after his arrival-in England, he showed nearly the same 
degree of fear at the sight of a live tortoise. 

Such were the actions of this animal, continues | 
Dr. Abel, as far as they fell under my notice during | 
our voyage from Java, and they seem to include most | 
of those which have been related of the orang-outang by 
other observers. 1 cannot find that after his arrival in 
England he learnt to perform more than two feats which 


he did not practise on board ship, although his educa- | 


tion has been by no means neglected. One of these is | 
to walk upright or rather on his feet, unsupported by his | 
hands; the other, to kiss his keeper. I have before re- 
inarked with how much difficulty he accomplishes the | 
first; and may add, that a well trained dancing dog 
would far surpass him in the imitation of the human | 
posture. I believe that all figures given of orang- 
outangs in an unpropped and erect posture are wholly 
unnatural, : | 

During the time this animal was in the custody of | 
Mr. Cross, there was no need of personal confinement, | 
aud little of restraint or -coercion; to his keepers espe- 
clally, and to those whom he knew by their frequent | 
visits, he displayed a decided partiality. During his 
last illness, and at his death, his piteous appearance, 
which seemed to -bespeak-his entreaties to those about | 
him for relief, excited the feelings of all who witnessed 
them, and recalled strongly to the mind the recollection 
of human sufferings under similar circumstances. 


THE RUINS OF MYCENA. 

Tuoucu the remains of ancient Greece have been ex- 
plored with so much industry and skill by several tra- 
vellers of late years, and particularly. by some. of our.own 
countrymen, there is little doubt that if Greece can 
obtain a settled government ; under the ‘new -monarch 
who has lately gone there, future. inquirers will .have 
better opportunity of prosecuting researches by digging 
or other means, than any scholar has hitherto enjoyed. 
Much may yet be discovered by removing the accumu 
lated rubbish of ages, and at all events, new inquirers, if 
they do nothing more, will extend and correct our know- 
ledee of what is already discovered. 

the remains of Greek templcs, of which.several views 
have been given in this Magazine, are certainly the most 


" 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ~ 


striking and attractive of the imperishable monuments of 
Grecian art; but there are ruins of another description, 
belonging.to, the character of military architecture. that 
are no less worthy of attention. If the traveller lands at 
the port of Nauplia, or Napoli, or, Andpli, as it is some- 
times called in the Morea, and proceeds about ten miles 
northwards in the plain of Argos, he will come to the 
remains of the ancient city of Mycene, once the. capital . 
of Agamemnon, who, according to the Iliad of Homer, 
was the .commander-in-chief of the assembled Greeks 
before the, walls of Troy. . This event took place 
Gollowing the received chronology) about s.c. 1184. 
We cannot indeed assert that the ruins of Mycene are 
not the remains of some buildings erected after the war 
of Troy ; but all the arguments seem in favour of con- 
sidering them of higher antiquity than that epoch. 

Mycene stands near the extremity of the plain of 
Argos, on a rugged eminence between two summits of 
that range of hills which here bound the plain. ‘This 
may be called an Acropolis, like the rocky height at 
Athens, on which the remains of the temple of Minerva 
(the Parthenon) now stand. The length of the Acropolis 
of Mycene is about four hundred yards, and its breadth 
about two hundred ; and the unevenness of the surface, as 
well as some interior remains, show that it was divided 
into different parts. The whole circuit of this citadel can 
still be made out; and {In some places the walls remain 
to the height of fifteen ‘or twenty feet. They are con- 
structed of huge stones, and belong to that style. of 
building commonly named Cyclopean, from certain un- 
known personages called Cyclopes by the Greek writers, 
who appear to have been very busy workmen, as we 
find their labours in many parts both of Italy and 
Greece. This description of wall-building is recognized 
by its massy materials, and by a certain style of rude- 
ness; in which, however, different orders or epochs are 
easily distinguished. "The oldest part of the walls of 
Mycenz resembles the Gyclopean walls of Tiryns, a place 
to the south about seven miles distant, which are appa- 
rently nothing more than huge masses of unwrought 
stone, placed one abave another, with the mterstices 
filled up by smaller materials. Such structures belong 
to an early stage in architectural experiments, as we may 
see 1n the massy, walls of the Peruvians, and the remaius 
of Stonelienge and Avebury in Our OWn country. 

The citadel of Mycen'‘e is of an irregular oblong form, 
and is now chiefly an obicet of curiosity for the gate or 
great entrance at the north-west angle. The approach 
to this gate is by a passage .50 feet long and 30 wide, 
formed by tio Berek and projecting walls, which 
were a part of the fortification, and were obviously de- 
signed to command the centrance, and annoy any enemy 
who might venture to attack the place. 

_ he door-way is somewhat narrower at the top than 
the bottom, which we fincl also to be the case in Peruvian, 
and in some Egyptian door-ways, but not, we believe, 
in the. oldest architectural, remains of the latter country. 
The width of the door at; Mycene at the top is 94 feet. 
It is tormed of three stones, two uprights, the height 
of which is not yet known, as they are buried a con- 
siderable depth in the earth ; and a cross stone form- 
ing a soffit. This last 1s 15 feet long, 4 wide, and 
6 feet,7 inches ,thick in ,the middle, but diminishes 
towards .each .end. On (|this stone stands. another ar 
a triangular shape, which, is 12 feet long, 10,.high, 
and 2 thick. Two lions are cut in relief on the face 
of: this stone, standing’-on) their hind-legs, on: opposite 
sides of -a, round" pillar,, on which their fore-paws 
rest. “ 'Phe'column,” says Colonel Leake *, who is our 
authority for the present description, ‘* becomes broader 
towards the, top, and is surnaounted with a capital formed 
ofa, row .of four circles, enclosed between two, parallel 
fillets.” . The top of the stoine with the heads of the lions 
" ‘Travels in the Morea, London, 1830. 


160 THE PENNY 
is wanting, and perhaps something is gone from the top 
of the pillar between them. This singular gateway is 
described by a Greek traveller of the second century of 
our era (Pausanias, book ii. chap. 16) in the following 
words :— Mycene was destroyed by the people of Argos 
through jealousy; but there still remain parts of. the 
wall and the gate, which has lions over it. It is said 
that all this was the work of the Cyclopes, who built the 
walls of Tiryns for Proetus.’ The destruction of 
Mycenez, here alluded to, took place s.c. 468; and 
though there are traces of some later repairs about the 
place, we have no reason to think that it was ever in- 
habited after that time by any considerable numbers: in 
the time of Pausanias it was deserted, and still remains 
so, and probably hardly a single change has taken place 
from the visit of Pausanias down to the present time. 
The ee who have used so freely the well-cut 


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MAGAZINE. 


stones of Grecian temples to construct modern edifices, 
have not taken the pains to carry off the massive materials 
of Mycene and ‘Tiryns. 

Attempts have been made to explain the meaning of 
the two lions cut in stone, but there is not a single 
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lion has been in all countries and ages a favourite subject 
for sculpture ; but the origin of this practice we do not 
conceive to have any connection with a religious idea. 

Besides the walls and gateways of Mycenz (for there 
is also a postern-gate of smaller dimensions), we find the 
remains of four chambers, constructed in a peculiar way, 
which we may probably at some future opportunity 
describe. One of them is called the treasury of Atreus 
according to an old tradition which had been handed 
down to the time of Pausanias. 


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Tranquillityn—One day brings on another day, one year 
follows another: let us take the time as it comes. A hun- 
dred years of trouble are not worth a day of tranquillity. 
The source of all pleasures is in our own heart; he who 
secks them elsewhere outrages the Divinity. My projects, 
my desires, and my hopes never go beyond my own bosom. 
Rivers roll rapidly to the sea and enter therein without 
troubling it: my heart is the same; all the events of the 
great world do not cost me a single care. Truth is my com- 
pass, and moderation my helm. .I advance on my way 
whatever wind may blow. The clouds arise and the clouds 
descend in rain without causing me any inquietude. When 
they conceal the sun from me by day I try to look at the stars 
by night. The swallow in her safe nest sees with a tranquil 
eye the bloody combats of the vultures. -Let who will con- 
quer the conqueror will not molest her; and the little flies 
and worms never fail her. My clothes are made of common 
cloth, my food is coarse, and the thatch which covers my hut 
decays every year. But what would it be to me to-morrow 
to have been dressed in silk to-day. and to have digested 
costly dishes? Golden roofs do not keep out sleeplessness 
and care; and were the country shaken by an earthquake 


how easily can I gain my humble door! My patrimony 1s 
at the end of my two arms, and every day gives me its 
harvest. When it is hot I cool myself in the shade of a 
tree, and when it is cold J warm myself by working. Old 
age is coming upon me: but my children are young, and 
will repay me for what I have done for them. If they always 
observe truth and moderation a hundred years will not cost 
them a sigh. Whatever tempests may arise Tranquillity is 
a port always open to the innocent of heart. Hail tran- 
quillity of the soul! Sweet charm of life! Kings would sell 
their crowns to buy thee if they knew thy value. Complete 
thy benefits: thou hast helped me to live well—help me to 
die well.— Translation of a Chinese poem, attributed to a 
celebrated doctor named Lean. 





®.° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
e 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fi€lds. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST,} 


Printed by Witn1am Crowss, Stamford Street, 


Monthly Auppleuent of 


THE PENNY 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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Tue increased rapidity of travelling is one of the most | sists in the great diminution of friction which they occa- 
remarkable features of the present age. Remote places | sion, whereby given weights may be drawn through 
are, by this means, virtually brought near to each | equal distances at a much less expense of power.’ Many 
other y and thus, while intelligence is diffused, an impulse | experiments have been made in order to ascertain the 
1S given to commerce, each of which advantages most | economy of power which they produce. ‘The most 
powerfully affects the condition of the people. The | moderate calculations estimate the resistance on a level 
benefits of cheap and quick-communication to a great | turnpike-road to be more than seven times as great as 
commercial state are too evident to réquire to be en- | that on a level rail-road*; while, by some experiments, 
larged upon. Time and money are thus most impor- | it has been found that the traction + of the wheels on a 
tantly saved: and the rapid and economical transit of | level road is to that on a good rail-road as twenty to one }. 
goods, by lessening their cost, enables the humblest to It is at once evident, that a smooth wheel will roll 
partake of comforts which were formerly considered as | along a smooth plane of iron much easier than it will 
luxuries only for the rich. . roll along a plane covered with rough and loose stones ; 
OF all the local improvements made with this object, | for in the latter case, it has either to be lifted over the 
in modern times, the Manchester and Liverpool Rail- | inequalities, or it has to push them on one side as it 
Way is the most remarkable. Its completion forms an | passes, or to crush them. But the crushing of the 
epoch in the history and application of mechanical rough material, or the pushing it aside, 1s so much 
power. If only ten years back it had been said, that * Wood on Ral-roads, p. 279. 

persons could pass, without inconvenience and without » The traction of the carriage is only part of the resistance 
danger, over a distance of thirty-one miles in one hour, | offered. . This resistance is distinguishable into two separate 
the tale would have been treated as one of those visionary | causes : that arising from the traction or attrition of the rubbing 


stories which in former days were the amusements of the parts, and that of the obstruction to the rolling of the wheels upon 
pans the rails. 


nursery. *’Gordon’s Practical Treatise upon. Elemental Locomotion, 
The advantage of rail-roads over common roads con- ! p. 150. 
Vou. II. ¥ 


162 


waste of power; and hence the great advantages of a 
smooth road*. 

Rail-roads on an extended scale are of very recent 
application; although for the last two centuries they 
have, with various modifications, been adopted in the 
collieries of Northumberland, where the expense of con- 
veying so heavy an article as coals by ordinary methods 
first showed the ne~essity for discovering some plan 
by which the labour might be lessened. Up to the yea 
1600, it appears that coals were conveyed from the 
collieries in carts on common roads, and in some cases 
in baskets on the backs of horses. ‘The precise period 
when any improved method of conveyance was first at- 
tempted is not ascertained, but this was certainly between 
the years 1602 and 1649. Rail-roads were abont that 
time first adopted. ‘They were then made of timber; 
and, though very rude in their construction, materially 
diminished the resistance, and therefore economised the 
power. 

These wooden rails consisted of parallel oaken blocks 
placed tranversely on the road at intervals of from two 
to three feet, and fastened firmly into the ground; long 
thick pieces of wood of about six or seven inches in 
breadth were laid on these, securely fastened to them 
aud joined together at the different lengths by pins, 
forming two continuous parallel lines on which the 
wheels of the waggon traversed. These roads were very 
imperfect and perishable. ‘The timber was soon worn 
away by the attrition of the wheels, and repairs were 
constautly .required ; the holes made in the transverse 
blocks or sleepers became too large for the pins after 
these had been once or twice displaced in order to renew 
the rails; while the constant treading of the horses’ feet 
weakened and ultimately destroyed the blocks in the 
middle, and they were in consequence soon made in- 
etficient. ‘To remedy this evil an improvement called 
the double rail-way was made. ‘his consisted in laying 
other pieces of wood on the first, to which they were 
fastened by pins. ‘These upper pieces could therefore 
be renewed when worn out without injury to the other 
parts; and as the rails were raised from the ground the 


sleepers could be covered and secured from the action of | 
Such roads were still, however, of rude } 


the horses’ feet. 
formation, and were liable to be constantly out of repair, 
notwithstanding which they were long used with little 
or no alteration at the collieries of Northumberland and 
Durham. The regular load of a horse with a cart along 
the common'road was 17 ewt., while on this rail-road it 
was 42 cwt. ‘The advantage so gained appears to have 
been thought quite sufficient, and no farther economy 
of power was for some time soneht to be obtained. 
Where there were any acclivities or abrupt curves, thin 
pleces of wrought iron were nailed over those parts of 
the rail to diminish the resistance opposed to the wheels ; 
and so that one horse could draw 42 cwt., the required 
maximum of power, no farther effort was considered 
necessary. 

Until within a very few yeurs rail-roads have been con- 
sidered as only supplementary to canals,—to be employed 
in short distances, or where the nature of the ground has 
precluded the application of inland navigation. Accord- 
ingly, while the attention of some of the most enter- 
prising and highly gifted minds was turned to the 
consideration of the important point of inland water 
communication, the better construction of rail-rouds was 


* Mr. Telford's Report on the state of the Holyhead and Liver- 


pool roads contains the result of some experiments on different roads, 
by which it is found that 


Ibs. 
On well-made pavement the draughtis . 9. 4 '#@ . 33 
Ou a broken stone surface; orold flintwoad . % -. % (65 
Ou a gravel road . ; > | | oe ll 


2 broken stone road, upon 2 rough pavement founda- 
ion lie ail 46 
° ° ® ® ° ® * ¢ . . 
” a a stone surface, upon a bottoming of concrete 
ormed of Parker’s cement and gravel 


46 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


jecting downwards to strengthen the rail. 


[Aprit 39 


overlooked and neglected. This country is now every 
where traversed by canals, intersecting each other, which 
afford inland navigation between all parts of the king 
dom. ‘This very excellence for a long time seemed to 
preclude the necessity of any farther improvements in 
the facility of communication. 

The superiority of.rail-ways is however very great, 
where celerity of motion is required, as this cannot be 
obtained with the same economy on canals; through the 
employment of horse-power. When locomotive car- 
riages are substituted on rail-roads, the difference is 
rendered still more striking. It has been found by ex-, 
periment that at the rate of two miles an hour, a horse 
can drag three times as much weight in a boat on a canal 
as he can drag upon a carriage ona rail-road. At the 
rate of three miles and a half an hour, his power exerted 
on the rail-road, or in tracking on the side of a canal, is 
exactly the same. But at an increase of speed beyond this 
rate, the disproportion in favonr of rail-roads becomes 
very great; so that at the rate of six miles an hour, owing 
to the resistance of the water, he can draw upon the rail- 
road a weight three times heavier than he can draw in a 
boat on a canal. As the velocity is increased the diffe- 
rence becomes still greater *. 

It is now between fifty and sixty years since iron has 
been gradually substituted for wood on rail-roads, and 
their construction has by degrees become better understood 
and executed. The date of the first introduction of cast 
and wrought iron rail-ways, is variously stated in different 
accounts ; it is most probable that iron was substituted 
for wood in several placcs without any concert, and that 
the adoption of cast iron was not the result of any one 
discovery. From 1768 to 1776 is the period when the 
plate-rail-road (more generally known as the tram-road) 
was first used. This, with but slight modifications, is the 
same as the plate-rail of the present day. It consists 
of cast iron rails about four feet long, having a flange or 
upright ledge three inches high, to keep the wheel upon 
the horizontal part, which is about four inches wide and 
an inch thick, and another flange at the other side pro- 
These rails 
are fixed together and fastened securely to stone supports. 
At first they were made to rest on the transverse wooden 
blocks, already described, stretched across the whole 
breadth of the rail-road, or upon short square wooden 
sleepers: stone blocks are now mostly used. An im- 
provement of the plate-rail is the edge-rail, which is now 
most generally adopted. The advantage of the edge 
over the plate-rail, is the diminution of friction. Jn this 
case the ledge is placed on the wheel instead of the rail, - 
and it is found that a ledge of one inch depth is sufficient 
to keep it in its situation. 

It has been found by experiment that on a well 
constructed rail-road a horse will draw 


10 tons at the rate of 2 miles an hour. 
6} ° @ @ 3 ? 


5 fa) ® e 4 32 
“4 oe) ° ° 5 be 
4 x ® e ® 6 39 


But it must be borne in mind that the great supe- 
riority of a rail-way over a common road can only exist 
on an exact level. Lect there be an ascent so small as 
scarcely to attract observation, and this advantage is 
at once very materially diminished; while, at greater 
elevations, it is entirely lost. Since the traction of 
the wheels is so much less on rail-ways than on com- 
mon roads, it follows that when the force of gravity is 
brought into operation by an ascending plane, this oppos- 
ing force, being proportioned to the load, will be mucn 
greater than on a common road. It has been found by 
experiment, that if a locomotive engine draws, by the 
adhesion of its four wheels, 67.25 tons on a level, it will 
only draw, by the same adhesion, 15.21 up an inclination of © 


* Wood on Rail roads, p. 305, 


* 


1833,] 


one in a hundred; at an inclination of one in fifty, it will 
draw scarcely any load; and at an inclination of one in 
twelve, a locomotive engine will not ascend by itself on a 
rail-way, the force exerted causing the wheels to turn 
round on the same spot instead of advancing. Abrupt 
curves and sudden turnings increase resistance very much. 
The medium friction of a train of five waggons on a 
level rail-way was found by experiment to be nine pounds 
per ton; while on a curved part, with a radius of about 
eight hundred feet, it was eighteen pounds per ton*. 

In the formation of rail-ways for the general purposes 
of traffic, it is therefore esseltial to their beneficial effect 
that they shonld be made as nearly as possible on a level 
straight line. Mostof the rail-ways heretofore constructed 
have been for the conveyance of the products of the 
mines,—such as of coals from the pits to the river side; 
and since the weights were all to be carried in one direc- 
tion, the road had an inclination downwards given to it, 
requiring’ no power but tliat of gravity to produce loco- 
motion. Where the traffic is to and fro, this arrangement 
must of course be abandoned. ; 

Since the close of the last century rail-ways have mul- 
tiplied extremely in the neighbourhood of our collieries 
and other mining districts. In Glamorganshire alone it 
is estimated that there are three hundred miles of rail- 
wayst. These are, however, all detached, isolated, and 
private undertakings, appropriated solely to the convey- 
ance of mineral produce to those points where water 
communication is established. 

The Stockton and Darlington Rail-way was the first 
laid down, by Act of Parliament, for the conveyance of 
general merchandize and passengers, as well as of coals. 
This road was opened in the autumn of 1825. It is 
about twenty-five iniles in length; and consists of only a 
single rail-way, having at intervals of every quarter of a 
mile ‘ sidings” to allow of the carriages passing each 
other. 

Lhe project of a rail-way between Liverpool and Man- 
chester was first entertained in 1822. Before so great 
and novel an undertaking could be carried into execu- 
tion, many preliminary measurcs were necessary, and 
much opposition was to be expected from those whose 
interest might possibly be affected by the successful 
issue of the project. A company was formed under the 
title of ‘The Liverpool and Mancliester Raii-road Com- 
pany, and their prospectus was issued in October, 1824. 
£400,000 was to be raised by shares of £100 each. It 
was found, subsequently, that this sum was inadequate 
to the purpose. A bill was brought into Parliament for 
the formation of the rail-way in 1825. 
made to the measure was so strenuous, however, that it 
was not till the ensuing session that the company suc- 
ceeded in its application. 

The peculiar connection between Liverpool and Man- 
chester renders a rapid and cheap communication be- 
tween these places a subject of national interest and 
importance. Liverpool is the port whence Manchester 
receives all her raw material, and to which she returns 
a large portion of her manufactured goods for shipment 
to all parts of the world. ‘This constant and increasing 
interchange of merchandize, and, in consequence, the 
incessant intercourse of the inhabitants of the two towns, 
must in an eminent decree be promoted and facilitated 
by a quickness of transit hitherto supposed impossible. 
It is true, there is water communication between Liver- 
pool and Manchester by two separate routes; namely, 
on the river Mersey, from Liverpool to Runcorn, a dis- 
tance of sixteen or eighteen miles; and thence, either by 
the Duke of Bridgewater's canal, or by a navigation 


* Milne’s Practical View of the Steam-engine (Appendix). 
From the same authority it appears that the draught on a rail-road 
was one hundred and eight pounds per ton, at the rate of three 
miles an hour when the rails were dry, and only sixty-eight pounds 
when the rails were wet. . 


{ Dupin, vol.i. p. 207, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


The opposition | 


163 


consisting alternately of canals and the rivers Mer 
Trivell. ‘The whole distance by water is about fift 
The average length of passage by these con 
about thirty-six hours, varying according to the state of 
the wind and the tide. By the rail-road the transit of 
goods is effected in about two hours. The economy of 
time in transport is of the greatest importance in al} 
large commercial operations ; and certainty of dclivery is 
an equally important element in the saving of capital, — 
ihe cotton spinner is no longer required to keep large 
stocks of the raw material in his warehouse at Man- 
chester. He buys at the hour when he finds it most 
advantageous to buy, assured that the delivery of the 
goods will immediately follow the completion of the 
contract. Manchester may now be considered as the 
great cotton factory of most parts of the globe; and 
the constantly increasing traffic betweeen this place 
aud Liverpool, could not be carried on by the canal 
establishments with sufficient despatch, regularity, and 
punctuality, at all periods and seasons. ‘The different 
position of these towns in 1760, when first the Duke of 
Bridgewater’s canal was projected, and in 1824, when 
the rail-road company was formed, shows the rapid 
increase of their commercial importance. In 1760 the 
population of Manchester was about 22,000; in 1824 it 
was 150,000. In 1790 the first steam-engine was used 
in Manchester; in ]824 more than two hundred steam- 
engines were at work, and nearly 30,000 power-looms. 
In 1760 the population of Liverpool was about 26,000 ; 
in 1824 the population was 125,000. In 1760 the 
number of vessels which paid dock-dues was 2,560; 
in 1824 this number amounted to 10,000. In 1784 
eight bags of cotton were seized by the custom-house 
officers out of an American vessel arriving at Liver- 
pool, under the conviction that they could not be the 
growth of America. In 1824 there were imported into 
Liverpool from America 409,670 bags of cotton *. The 
quantity of goods daily passing between Manchester and 
Liverpool was estimated in 1524 at 1,000 tons, but since 
that period it has much increased. 

The legislature having concurred in the practicability 
and advantages of the rail-way, the undertaking was 
commenced in June, 1826, under the direction of Mr. 
George Stcphenson. It was proposed to lay the rail- 
way as nearly as possible in a straight line between the 
two places. ‘The nature of the country rendered this 
undertaking a task of no ordinary difficulty. ‘Tunnels 
were to be made; eminences to be excavated, artificial 
mounds to be erected; anda moss (Chat Moss),-. four 
miles in extent, was to be drained and levelled in the 
centre and embanked at.each end. ‘This latter was a 
most arduous task, and the practicability of carrying it 
into execution was seriously questioned in the House 
of Commons; by some of the witnesses who were exa- 
mined it was deemed impossible, and one asserted that 
it could not be accomplished at the cost of £200,000 f. 
Chat Moss is a “huge bog,” of so soft and spongy a 
texture, that cattle cannot walk over it. The bottom is 
composed of clay and sand, and above this, varying im 
depth from ten to thirty-five feet deep, is a mass of 
vegetable pulpy matter. ‘his barren waste comprises 
an area of about twelve square miles; and, according to 
inoderate calculation, contains at least sixty millions of 
tons of veoretable matter. 

The first actual operations of the company were 
directed to the draining of this moss. Many difficulties 
occurred in the progress of the work, but they were 
all at leneth overcome. On the eastern border an 
embankmcut of about twenty feet had to be raised 
above the natural level. The weight of this em- 
bankment pressed down the surface of the moss, and 


sey and 
y miles, 
veyances is 


* These statistical facts are taken from Booth’s Account of the 
Manchester and Liverpool Rail-way, p. 3. 
‘+ In the general abstract of expenditure, the Chat Moss account 
is put down at £27,719, lls. 10d, c. 


164 


many thousand cubic yards gradually disappeared. 
Perseverance, however, at length succeeded in consoli- 
dating the moss, and giving to it an equable pressure. 
On the western side an embankment is formed of moss, 
nearly a mile in length, and from ten to twenty feet per- 
pendicular height, at an inclination of rather less than 
forty-five degrees, which was found from experience to 
stand better thanif ata greater angle. Sand and gravel, 
from two to three feet in depth, were laid over this; and 
on the whole so prepared, the permanent road, consisting 
of a layer of broken stone and sand, was deposited. 

At one part, about three-quarters of a mile from the 
western edge, distinguished as the “ Flow Moss,” the 


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[Aprin 30, 


semi-fluid consistency of the moss required some farther 
contrivances to render it sufficiently firm. Hurdles were 
placed upon it, thickly interwoven with twisted heath, 
forming a platform on which sand and gravel are 
laid, and on which the wood sleepers which support the 
rails are placed. The quantity of moss required for the 
embankments, and which was dug from the neighbouring 
parts, amounted to five hundred and twenty thousand 
cubic yards.* - 

The rail-way enters Liverpool by means of a tunnel 
and inclined plane, thus effecting a communication 
with the docks without interfering with a single 
street, a passage being formed in fact underneath the 


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town. The first shaft of this tunnel was opened in 
September, 1826. Very little progress was made in 
this work for the first few months from its commence- 
ment, but during the whole of the ensuing year the 
operations were carried on with great perseverance and 
activity. ‘This tunnel is twenty-two feet wide and sixteen 
feet high; the sides are perpendicular for five feet in 
heieht, surmounted by a semi-circular arch of twenty- 
two-feet diameter; the total length is two thousand two 
huridred. and fifty yards. The eutrance in the Com- 
pany’s yard in Wapping, is by an open cutting twenty- 
two feet .deep and forty-six wide, affording space for 
four lines of rail-way. Between the lines are pillars. 
For the length of two hundred and eighty yards the rail- 
way is perfectly level, curving to the south-east. Over 
this part are the Company’s warehouses, to which there 
are hatchways or. trap-doors, allowing the waggons 
placed underneath to be readily loaded or unloaded. ‘The 
inclined plane, which is a perfectly straight line, com- 
mences. here: it is one thousand nine hundred and 
seventy yards in length, with a uniform rise of 1 in 48, 
the whole rise from Wapping to the tunnel-mouth at 
Edge-hill being one hundred and twenty-three feet. A 
considerable portion of this. excavation. was hewn through 
a solid rock, consisting of a fine red sand-stone, which 
forms in these parts a natural roof, requiring neither 
props nor artificial arching. But in some places the 
substance excavated was with difficulty supported till 


the masonry which formed the roof was erected. ‘The 
construction of this tunnel was commenced in seven or 
eight separate leneths; upright shafts being opened in 
each of these places, communicating with the surface, 
and through which the substance excavated was conveyed 
away. ‘The accuracy of the work rendered the joinings 
exact and perfect in every case. In the early part of 
September, 1828, the whole was completed at a cost of 
£34,791. The depth of the super-stratum of earth, 
from the roof ‘of the tunnel to the open surface of the 
ground varies from five to seventy feet. The whole 
leneth of the tunnel is furnished with gas-li¢hts, sus- 
pended from the centre of the arched roof, at distances 
of twenty-five yards apart; and the sides and roofs are 
white-washed, for the better reflection of the light. At 
the upper end of the inclined plane the tunnel ter- 
minates in a spacious area, forty feet below the surface 
of the ground, cut out of the solid rock, and surmounted 
on every side by walls and battlements. From this area 
there returns another small tunnel, quite distinct from the 
larger one, and communicating with the upper part of 
Liverpool. Its dimensions are two hundred and ninety 
yards in‘length, fifteen feet wide, and twelve feet high. 
It terminates in the Company’s premises in Crown Street, 
which is the principal station for the rail-way coaches. 
Above this area onthe surface of the ground two steam 
chimneys are erected of one hundred feet in height; 
* ¢Companion to the Almanac for 1829, p. 228, 


1833.} 


these are built in the form of columns, with handsome 


capitals.- In the area below are two stationary engines, 
by which the loaded wagegons are drawn up the inclined 
plane. Proceeding eastward from the two tunnels, the road 
passes through a Moorish arch-way, erected from a design 
of Mr. Foster. ‘This connects the two engine-houses, 
and forms the grand entrance to the Liverpool stations. 
The road in this part curves slightly, but is perfectly 


level for one thousand yards ; it then for the length of 
five miles and a half has a fall of only 1 in 1092, or of 


four feet in a mile,—a declivity so sheht and uniform as 
not to be perceptible. This nearly level line was not 


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dicuar rock on either side. Four hundred and eighty 
thousand cubic yards of stone have been dug out of this 
excavation, and have been made available to the building 
of bridges and walls on this portion of the line. Over 
the marl and the Olive Mount excavations are several 
bridges to form. the requisite communications between 
the roads and farms on the opposite sides of the rail-way. 
Emerging from the Olive Mount cutting, the road is thence. 
artificially raised by the great Roby embankment, which 
is nearly three miles long, varying in height from fifteen 
to forty-five feet, and in breadth at the base from sixty 
to one hundred and thirty-five feet. This is formed of 
the materials dug out from the various excavations. 
Lhe quantity employed was 550,000 cubic yards. After 
passing the Roby embankment the rail-way crosses, by 
means of a bridge, over the Huyton turnpike-road; and 
proceeds in a slightly curved direction to Whiston, 
between seven and eight miles from the station at 
Liverpool. Here the rail-road continues for a mile 
and a half in a straight line, having in this length an 
inclination of 1 in 96; at the top of this inclined plane 
the road runs nearly two miles on an exact level, pro- 
duced by the excavation of 220,000 cubic yards. Over 
this part, called Rainhill level, the turnpike road between 
Liverpool and Manchester proceeds, crossing the line of 
rail-way at an acute angle of 34°, by means of a substan- 
tial stone bridge. At the other side of this two miles 
of level is the Sutton inclined plane, which is similar in 


a 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[Olive Mount Excavation.] 


165 


obtained without much labour. A little beyond the 
perfect level the road has been formed in a deep excava- 
tion made through mart. Beyond this, about half a 
mile to the north of the Village of Wavertree, IS 2 pas- 
sage cut through a steep eminence, called Olive Mount 
the substance of which is entirely rocky. - This deep 
and narrow ravine, formed in the solid rock, is more 
than two miles in extent, and in the deepest part is 
seventy feet below the surface of the ground; the road 
here is little more than sufficiently wide for two trains of 
carriages to pass each other. It winds gently round to 
the south-east, and the view is bounded by the perpen- 


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extent and inclination to the Whiston plane, descending 
from Rainhill in the opposite direction. A. little dis- 
tance thence is Parr Moss, over which the road is carried J 
This Moss is twenty feet deep, and extends three-quarters 
of a mile in the line. The materials for the road which 
forms the rail-way on this unsubstantial matter was ob- 
tained from the excavations of the Sutton inclined plane, 
which produced 144,000 cubic yards of clay and stone, 
The heavy deposit sank to the bottom, and now forms 
with the moss a firm embankment, in reality twenty-five 
feet high, though only four or five feet above the surface 
of the other parts of the moss. Not very far from this, 
and about half way between Liverpool and Manchester, 
is the valley of the Sankey, at the bottom of which the 
canal flows. Over this valley, without interruption to 
its navigation, the rail-way is carried along a magnificent 
viaduct, supported on nine arches; each archi is fifty 
feet span, and varies from sixty to seventy feet in height ; 
these are built principally of brick with stone facings ; 
the width of the rail-way between the parapets is twenty- 
five feet. The piling tor the foundation of the piers of 
this great viaduct was a business of much labour and 
cost, but indispensable for the security of the super- 
structure. About two hundred piles, varying from 
twenty to thirty feet in length, were driven hard into 
the foundation site of each of the ten piers. 

The approach ‘to this structure is by an embankment 
altaming to the height of sixty feet. This is formed 


166 
principally of clay dug out from the high lands on the 
borders of the valley. Not far from Sankey is Newton, 
near to which town the rail-way crosses a narrow valley 
by a short but lofty embankment, and by a handsome 
bridge of four arches, each having forty feet span. The 
turnpike-road from Newton to Warrington passes under 
one of these arches, and beneath another flows a small 
river, At Kenyon, a few miles beyond Newton, 1s an 
excavation of greater magnitude than any other on the 
line, 800,000 cubic yards “of clay and sand having been 
dug out of it. Near the end of this cutting the Kenyon 
and Leigh Junction Rail-way joins the Liverpool and 
Manchester line by two branches, pointing to the two 
towns respectively. This rail-way joins the Bolton and 
Leigh line, and thus forms the connecting link between 
Bolton, Liverpool, and Manchester. After the Kenyon 
excavation is the Brosely embankment, and a little be- 
youd that commences the Chat Moss. ‘Lhe difficulties 
overcome here have already been briefly described ; and 
now, by the ingenuity and perseverance of man, trains of 
carriages Of many tons weight are constantly passing 
and repassing over a bog, which origénaily would not 
allow of @ person walking over it except in the driest 
weather. About a mile from the extremity of the moss 
the rail-way crosses the Duke of Bridgewater's caual, by 
a neat stone bridge of two arches. Some hitle distance 
beyond is the village of Eccles, four miles from Man- 
chester. Through this extent is an excavation from 
which 295,000 cubic yards of earth have been dug out. 
At Manchester the rail-way crosses the river Irwell by a 
very handsome stone bridge, of two arclies of sixty-five 
feet span, thirty feet from the water; and then over a 
series of twenty-two arches, and a bridge, to the Com- 
pany's station in Water-street. ‘The whole line of road 
is a distance of thirty-one miles. 

it was a matter of some importance to determine whe- 
ther cast or wrought iron rails should be used for this 
undertaking; each description had its advocates; but 
after deliberation and inquiry, those of wrought iron 
obtained the preference. ‘These were made in lengths 
of five yards each, weighing thirty-five pounds per yard.. 
‘The blocks, or sleepers, are some of stone and some of 
wood. Those of stone contain nearly four cubic feet 
each: they are laid aloug about eighteen miles. The 
wood sleepers are made of oak or larch; and are princi- 
pally laid across the embankments, and across the two 
districts of moss, wherever it is expected that the road 
may subside a Hittle.: Whe stone: blocks are let firmly 
into the permanent road, which consists of a layer of 
broken rock and sand about two feet thick, one- foot of 
which is placed below the blocks, and one foot distri- 
buted between them, serving to keep them in their 
places. ‘They are placed at intervals of three feet ; In 
each block two holes six inches deep and an inch in dia- 
meter are drilled, and into these are driven oak plugs. 
The rails are supported at every three feet on cast-iron 
chairs or pedestals, into which they are immediately 
fitted and securely fastened; the chairs are placed on 
the blocks, and firmly spiked down to the plugs, the 
whole forming a work of great solidity and strength ; 
the rails are about two inches in breadth, and rise about 
an inch above the surface; they are laid down with ex- 


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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Arrin 80, 


treme correctness, and consist of four parallel rails four 
feet eight inches apart, allowing two trains of carriages 
to pass in opposite directions with perfect safety. 
Under the warehouses at Liverpool there are four dis- 
tinct rail-ways for the greater convenience and facility of 
loading and unloading the waggons. 

It may be obser ved, from the description given of this 
rail-road, how much tlie principle was acted upon of mak- 
ing it as far as practicable perfectly devel and straight. 
With the exception of the two inclined planes at Rainhill, 
where the inclination is 1 in 96, there is no greater 
inclination than in the ratio of about 1 in 880. ‘The 
surface of the rails at the top of the tunnel in Liverpool 
is forty-six feet above the rail-way at Manchester. Along 
the whole extent there are no abrupt curves; the curva- 
ture rarely exceeds a deviation from a straight line of 
more than four inches in twenty-two yards. 

At the first projection of the rail-road it was by no 
means decided what kind of power should be employed 
for locomotion—whether horses or locomotive engines, 
or fixed engines drawing the load by means of ropes 
from one station to another. Jach of these methods 
had been tried. ‘The directors were not, however, at a 
loss to decide from the paucity of evidence brought 
before them ; and the schemes offered by some projec- 
tors were of the most various and extravagant nature. 
Mature consideration, and the experience “obtained in 
other undertakings, satisfied the directors that the em- 
ployment of horses was entirely out of the question. 
At length it was determined, in April, 1829, to offer a 
premium of £500 for the most improved locomotive 
engine, subject to certain stipulations and conditions. 

The trial of the different engines offered, in competi- 
tion for the reward just mentioned, took place on the 6th 
of October, 1829, before competent judges, on the level 
portion of the rail-way at Rainhill. Four steam-carriages 
were entered on the lists to contend for the premium. 
The distance appointed to be run was seventy miles, 
and the engine, when fairly started, was to travel on the 
road at a speed of not less than ten miles an hour, 
drawing after it a gross weight of three tons for every 
ton of its own weight. This distance was io be accom- 
plished by moving backwards and forwards on a level 
plane of one mile and three-quarters in length, by which 
arrangement the machine had to pass over the plane 
forty times, and make as many stoppages. ‘Ihe 
“ Rocket,” weighing four tons five hundred weight, per- 
formed the distance in less tlian six hours and a half, 
including stoppages. ‘The speed at which it travelled 
was fr equently eighteen miles per hour, and occasionally 
upwards of twenty. In this trial, half a ton of coke 
was consumed as fuel; coke being used instead of coal 
to prevent the annoyance of smoke. ‘This engine was 
the only one which performed the stipulated task. The 
premium was awarded by the directors to Mr. Booth 
and the Messrs. Stephenson. Engines similar to the 
“ Rocket” are those now used on the Manchester and 
Liverpool rail-way. ‘The peculiarities of this engine 


could not be rendered intelligible without some previous 
knowledge of the construction of an ordimary steam- 
engine. 

pearance. 


The following cut exhibits its external ap- 







1 (ee AK AK x GRA 


at ie i - ue gC m 


reciacah OLIN HUM NT UAN) UTI Vistl BHAT Ue-ny UT La pte ae 
re alt it: 2} epee apa aU ND ra int STS) cI ; 
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(Locomotive Engine, and part of a train of first-class Carriages. | 


1833.] 


We have now traced the steps of this important na- 
tional work to the time when the engines were prepared, 
and ina fit state for being applied to useful purposes. 
The stupendous undertaking was finished in September, 


1830, little more than three years having been consumed | 


in the completion of a werk in which difficulties of no 
ordinary kind presented themselves. A brief recapitu- 
lation of what was accomplished in the space of thirty- 
One miles will evince the skill, energy, and perseverance 
Wich were brought to the task. Two tunnels were 
excavated, six considerable eminences cut through, great 
part of which excavations were hewn out of the solid 
rock ; upwards of three millions of cubic yards of stone, 
clay and soil, have been due out of the different excava- 
tious. From these materials artificial mounds of great 
height and extent have been raised through valleys, and 
semi-fluid matter has been consolidated into strength and 
consistency. Along the whole line there are sixty-three 
bridges ; under thirty of these the rail-way passes, on 
twenty-eight it passes over the common road, and on five 
it is conducted over the- waters of the river Irwell, of 
canals, &c. ‘l'wenty-two of the bridges are composed 
of brick, seventeen of wood and briek, eleven of brick 
and stone, eleven of wood, and two of stone and wood. 
‘The weight of the double lines of rail laid down is 3847 
tons, and of the cast iron pedestals on which they are 
fastened, 1428 tons. There are occasional lines of com- 
munication between the rail-ways, and additional side 
lines at the different depdts. 

The total sum expended in effecting this macnificent 
project, and putting the whole in a situation for active 
operation, including the cost of constructing warehouses, 
machinery; and carriages, is estimated at £820,000. 

On the 15th of September, 1830, the rail-way was 
opened by the passage of eight locomotive engines, all 
built by Messrs. Stephenson. and Co. ‘To these were 
attached twenty-eight carriages of different forms and 
capacities, capable of containing altogether a company 
of six hundred persons. Preparations were made on 2 
scale of great magnificence to render this a ceremony of 
no ordinary kind; and some of the most distinguished 
characters were invited and attended; to oo first over 
that ground which is now become the scene of daily 
traffic. ‘The Northumbrian, asteam-engine of fourteen- 
horse power, took the lead, having in its train three 
carriages, ‘Ihe performance of the engines was ex- 
tremely satisfactory until they reached Parkfield, seven- 
teen miles from Liverpool, when they were stopped to 
renew the feeders and to take ina fresh supply of fuel. 
Here several of the company alighted from the dif- 
ferent carriages; on again starting, that fatal acci- 
dent happened to Mr. Huskisson, which, after a few 
hours of extreme agony, terminated his life. 

On the following day the Northumbrian left Liverpool 
with one hundred and thirty passengers, and arrived at 
Manchester in one hour and fifty minutes. In the 
evening it returned with twenty-one passengers and three 
tous of luggagwe in one hour and forty-eight minutes; 
ald on Friday, the 17th, six carriages commenced run- 
ning regularly between the two towns, accomplishing 
the journey usually in much less than two hours. On 
the 23d of November, 1830, one of the engines went 
over the distance in the space of one hour, two minutes 
of which time was taken up in oiling and examining the 
machinery about midway. No carriages were attached 
lo the engine, and it had only the additional weight of 
three persons. On the 4th of December following the 
Planet” locomotive engine took the first load of mer- 
chandise which passed along the rail-way between Liver- 
pool and Manchester. Attached to the engine were 

eighteen wageons, containing two hundred barrels of 
flour, thirty-four sacks of malt, sixty-three bags of oat- 
meal, and a hundred and thirty-five bags and bales of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


167 


cotton. The gross weight drawn, including the wag¢ons 
and engine-tender, was about eighty tons. The speed 
over level ground was at the rate of twelve to fourteen 
miles per hour. ‘The train was assisted up the Whiston 
clined plane by another eligine, at the rate of nine 
miles an hour; it descended the Sutton inclined plane at 
the rate of sixteen miles and a half an hour; and the 
average rate of the remaining part was twelve miles 
aud a halfan hour. ‘The whole journey was performed 
in two hours and fifty-four minutes, including three 
stoppages, of five minutes each, for oiling, watering, 
and taking in fuel. This was the greatest performance 
heretofore accomplished by any locomotive power, but 
it was only the commencement of much greater speed. 
The Samson engine, on the 25th of February, 183], 
started with a train of thirty wageons from Liver- 
pool, the gross weight of the whole being 1644 tons, 
and with this enormous weight it averaged a speed of 
twenty miles an hour on level ground. It was assisted 
up the inclined plane by three other engines, and ar- 
rived in Manchester within two hours and thirty-four 
minutes from first starting ; deducting thirteen minutes 
for stoppages employed in taking in water, &c., the net 
time of travelling was two hours and twenty-one minutes. 
The quantity of coke consumed by the engine in this 
journey was 1376 |bs. being not quite one-third of a 
pound per ton per mile. By taking the average speed 
throughout at thirteen miles an hour, the same work 
would have required seventy good horses. 

From the first opening of the rail-way in September to 
the end of that year, more than 70,000 persons passed 
by it for various distances between Liverpool and Man- 
chester, without personal injury to a single individual, 
except one person, wlio while mounting on the roof of 
one of the carriages had his leg severely bruised by com- 
ing in contact with another vehicle. ‘The security and 
celerity of this mode of conveyance being thus ciearly 
established, it has become the chief mode of personal 
communication between the two towns. In the second 
half year of 1832, however, the conveyance of pas- 
sengers appears to have materially decreased. ‘This, 
the directors in the last Report attribute to temporary 
causes. ‘l'his Report contains some further interesting 
details, of which the following is the substance :— 


The company carried in the last half year of 1832, 86,842 
tons of goods, and 39,940 tons of coal, showing an increase 
of 7,821 tons of goods, and 10,484 tons of coal, beyond the 
previous half year. The total number of passengers was 
182,823, or 73,498 fewer than were carried in the first six 


months of 1832. , 
£, s. d. 


The total receipts for the half year were . 80,902 2 10 
Total disbursements (including mainte-' 
nance of way, cost and repair of engines, 
expenses of establishments, interests on 
face. . owe or “ots we 10 
Leaving a net profitof . . . . 32,623 14 0 
for the half year ending Dee. 31, 1832. 


The rate of profit on the transport of each ton of goods 
and coals appears to have materially increased during the 
same half year. 7 

A very general opinion has been gaining ground, that the 
great expense attending the wear and tear of the locomotive 
engines would render the adoption of some other plan neces- 
sary. On this subject the directors admit that in thus 
branch of their expenditure they have met with unexpected 
discouragement, and with difficulties which they have not yet 
been able to overcome. The principal items of excessive ex- 
pendittire in this department have arisen from the frequent 
renewal of the tubes and _fire-places, which, in most of the 
engines, have been found to burn very rapidly away. ‘To 
this general result, however, there have been some excep- 
tions; for the company have engines which have run 
between twenty and thirty thousand. miles, with very incon- 
siderable repuirs either to the fire-places or the tubes. 


ad 


168 


According to the Report, the total amount of capital stock 
created from the commencement to the 31st December last, 
whether in shares or by loan, is £1,024,375, every farthing 
of which has been expended on the works. 


The proprietors have divided out of the nee 


profits of the concern up to the 30th 
Owe, 1832. . 2. 6 6 GG £112,040 12 6 


stcryitan 
ee 


PSA OMA 
E M7 a ‘ 


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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 





(Apri 30, 1833, 


And the directors are about to recom- 
mend a further dividend for the half 
year ending 31st December last, of. 

Making a total of realized profits out of 
the working of the concern, and altoge- 
ther independent of the capital im- 
VOR, Gr ws st 145,909 7 6 

being for a period of about two years and a quarter. 


33,468 15 0 


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A trip, as it is called, by this extraordinary. road for 
the first time is an event which cannot readily be effaced 
by the recollections of more common modes of travelling. 
A pleasurable wonder takes possession of. the mind, as 
we glide along at a speed equal to the gallop of the race- 
horse. It might be supposed that so great a speed would 
alinost deprive the traveller of breath, and that he could 
not fail to be unpleasantly conscious of the velocity with 
which he cut through the air. ‘T’he reverse is, however, 
the case; the motion is so uniform, and so entirely free 
from the shaking occasioned by the inequality or friction 
of common roads, that the passenger can scarcely credit 
le is really passing over the ground at such a rapid 
pace, and it is only when mecting another train, and 
passing it with instantancous flight, that he is fully aware 
of the velocity of his career. ‘The novelty of the scene 1s 
delightful; now, where the natural surface of the ground 
is at the highest, we travel embosomed in deep recesses, 
and then, where the ordinary course of the road would 
lead through a valley, we ‘ride above the tops of the 
trees,” and look down upon the surrounding country. 
The reflecting traveller probably falls into a pleasing 
vision arising out of the triumph of human’ art. . He 
sees the period fast approaching when the remotest parts 
of his own country shall be brought into easy and rapid 
communication ; and he looks beyond this probable event 
of a few years, to the more distant day when other 
nations shall emulate these gigantic works of peace. 
He sees the evils arising out of the differences of lan- 
puage, and soil, and climate, all vanishing before the 
desire of mankind for peaceful commercial intercourse ; 


and as he knows that the prejudices and mistaken inte 
rests which separate one district of the same nation from 
another are broken down by such noble, inventions as 
these, he feels that the same spirit of civilization which 
results from that exercise of our reason, which ‘is be- 
stowed by a beneficent Providence, will eventually 
render all men as brethren, ‘and children of one great 
lather. 


eS 


4 4 
4 ‘4 


4 ,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge Is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. , 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Shopheepers and Hawhers may be supplied Wholesale by the following 
Buoksellers, of whum, also, any of the previous Numbers may bé had: 


London, Groomunin@E, Panyer Alley, 
Paternoster Row. 

Barnstaple, BRiaurwELL and Son. 

Bath, Sims. ,. 

Birmingham, Drake. 

Bristol, WesrLey and Co. 

Bury St. Edmunds, LANKESTER. 

Canterbury, MARTEN. 

Carlisle, FHURNAM ; and Scott. 

Derby, WILKINS and'Son. 

Devonport, BYERs. 

Doncaster, BRooKE and WHITE. 

Exeter, BALLE. 

Falmouth, Pur. 

Hull, STEPHENSON, , 

Jersey, Joun Carre, Jun, 

Leeds, Batnes and NEWsoME. 

Tincoln, Brookes and Sons. 

Liverpool, WiLLMER and SMITH. 

Llanduvery, D. R. and W. Rees. 

Lynn, SMITH. 


Manchester, Roninson; and Webb 
and S1MMs. 
Newcastle-upoa-Tyne, CHARNLEY, 
Norwich, JannoLp and Son; and 
Winiin and FLETCHER, 

Nottingham, Wxricut. 
Oxford, SLATTER. ' 
Penrith, BRowN. 
Plymouth, NETTLETON. 

| Purtsea, Hornsey, Jun. 
Sheffield, Rinoe. 
Shrewsbury, YIBNAM. 
Southampton, FLETCHER. 
Staffordshire, Lane End, C. Watts, ° 
JVorcester, DELGUTON, . 
Dublin, WAKEMAN, 
Aberdeen, SMITH. 
Edinburgh, OLiveR and Boro. .. 
Glasquw, AT«INson and Co, 

| New York, Jackson. .—: 


Printed by Witt1am Crowes, Stamford Street, 


~ 





HE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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Awona the tess important advantages daily resulting 
from our mo.*¢ familiar aequaintance with modern 
Greece, we may mention the additional interest given 
to many of our eatliest historical associations. by an 
exact knowledee o,%. the localities of this country. 
Ancient history, and indeed all history, can only be 
rendered intelligible by ras accurate knowledge of the 
relative positions of the ‘places ‘mentioned ; and if to 
this we can add a clear id&® Of the nature of each 
remarkable spot, its hills, -valle ‘VS; rivers, Or ruins, the 
Whole narrative assumes quite a \ different : appearance, 
acquires a ten-fold interest, and fix.%8 Itself more firmly: 
in the memory. By 7 knowledge of the places also 
Wwe are Meonenty enabled to detect e*ro”s in an his- 
torian, or to understand what was before ob.:cure. 

The modern town of Egripos is situate'd 0.0 the west 
side of the island of Euboea, now commoiily valled the 
Negropont, which forms a part of the new , kingdom of 
Greece. Ecripos is in N. lat. 38° 26’, IE. long. 23° 37, 
and stands at the narrowest part of the chai nel, which 
separates the island from the main land. ‘TL \is ehunnel 
is here only forty yards wide. Egripos was 1 ‘ormerly cl 
Greek town, under the name of Chaleis ; but i, \ modern 
times once belonged to the Venetians, when that \ mercan- 
tile and warlike state possessed a large part of — Greece, 
with many of the islands, and carried its eonques \‘ts and 
its ecommerce all over the eastern part of the Med \terra- 


nean. Egripos is defended on the land side both by a 
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‘ditch and wall, which latter indeed runs‘all round it, 
and shows’ by the numerous winged lions of St. Mark 
that the Venetians were the builders. The town is (or, 
we should.perhaps rather say, was) exclusively inhabited 
by the Turks: the Greeks and Jews dwell in a small 
suburb to ‘the north of the town and carry on a little 
trade. 7 
This place, if Greece ever becomes populous-and well 
cultivated, would probably become the centre of a great 
trade. It would serve as the place of export for the 
fertile island of Eubcea itself, which has no port on its 
fron-bound: eastern coast; and it would also furnish an 
outlet: for the produce of the rich -plains of Bocotia 
which lie opposite the town on the west. On each side 
‘of the narrow channel it has a port: that on the north, 
though small, is deep, secure, well adapted for ship- 
building, and capable of containing many merehantmen. 
On the south side of the bridge are two ports, of which 
the one nearer to the bridge is connected with the other 
further from it by a narrow channel, which, owing to a 
bank, does not admit vessels drawing more than fourteen 
feet water. But a small expense, it 1s supposed, would 
improve the port of Egripos, so as to allow vessels of 
three or four hundred tons to pass the narrowest channel, 
where the water is shallowest. : 
his ehannel presents a remarkable phenomenon, which 
was observed by several ancient writers, and has attracted 
the attention of some modern travellers, _ It is, as we have 


La 


170. 


said, only forty yards wide ; and it is further divided into 
two parts by a rock, on which a fort is built. The pas- 
sare between the rock and the main land is the wider of. 
the two, but has not more than three feet water. ‘The 
other passage between the rock and the walls of the town 
is thirty-three feet wide, and when the water is highest 
is seven feet deep in the shallowest parts. ‘Ihe Medi- 
terranean, it is well known, like other inland seas, 1s very 
little affected with tides, though, undoubtedly, it has tides 
to some extent; and these, from the configuration of 
the coasts, may be felt more in some parts than others. 
This deeper channel, however, presents most extra- 
ordinary and irregular tides or currents, which, though 
found by observation to depend in some degree like other 
tides on the moon’s attraction, are not reducible to a 
rerular system. Sometimes the water will run as much 
as eight miles an hour, with a fall of about one foot and 
a half under the bridge. It is seldom at rest, changes its 
direction in a few minutes, and will at once resume its 
usual velocity of four or five miles an hour in either 
direction, as it may happen to run. The greatest ra- 
pidity is always to the south. 

The immediate cause of this phenomenon must be the 
coutinued variation of the relative level of the waters on 
the north and south side of the channel, which is not 
wide enough to allow such a free communication as 
would ensure either a constant level, or a constant 
current in one direction. But what cause this perpe- 
tually varying level is owing to, or to what combination 
of causes, is difficult to say. ‘The changing winds, par- 
ticularly those from the N.E., may be one cause. ‘The 
current from the Dardanelles sets fairly on the east side 
of the island, and it is therefore. supposed can have no 
effect on the stream of) the. Kuripus, though this appears 
by no means certain. | 

Aristotle, it 1s said, laboured:in vain to -find out: the 
cause of this phenomenon, and according- to some 
accounts, for. the truth of which we do not vouch, 
drowned himself out of vengeance at. being thus foiled. 
However this may be, this great man died at Chaleis. 

On the main land, a little further south than Egripos, 
and near the water, are some remains of ‘those walls, 
composed of large stones, commonly called Cyclopean, 
which, it is. supposed, mark the site of. Anlis, where 
Agamemnon assembled his fleet previous to the expedi- 
tion to Troy. Noplace could have been so well suited 
as a central position for the various dependants of the 


great monarch of Mycene, and the port is amply large: 


enough to hold the thousand ships that went to the war 
against king: Priam. 

When the mighty armament of the Persians, under 
Xerxes (n.c. 480), came against European Greece, the 
Asiatic navy was stationed for some time at the entrance 
of the gulf of Volo, opposite the north end of Eubea, 
where several engagements took place. A part of the 
Persian squadron which was sent round the island-was 
wrecked during a storm on the eastern coast, which is 
even now much dreaded by mariners, as it offers no port 
at all during the strong N.E. winds which increase tha 
violence with which the Dardanelles current seis upon 
it. ‘he main part of the Persian navy followed the 
Greeks through the narrow channel opposite Eeripos, 
from.which fact we can form some idea of the size of 
the largest vessels used at that time. At least we know 
that none of them could draw more than seven feet of 
water, and the greater part of them probably drew much 
less. (See Herodotus, viii. 66.) 








PETER THE WILD BOY; AND THE SAVAGE 
OF AVEYRON. 


well-authenticated cases on record 
of children having been found in solitary places, leading 
_ a brutish: life, incapable: of ‘communicating ideas .by 
language, and. pparently: completely ignorant ‘of ‘all 


THERE are several 


=| 


THE. PENNY MAGAZINE, 


May 4, 


the social usages of mankind. 'These remarkable in- 
stances exhibit how degraded and miserable is the 


condition of a human being, when its mind has been 


unformed by the example of others, and no moral or 
intellectual training has been bestowed upon it. The 
two most striking examples of this unhappy state are 
those furnished by the individuals known by the names 
of Peter the Wild Boy, and the Savage of Aveyron. 
They were probably idiots from their birth ; but their 
mental defects were greatly increased by their wild 
life ;—-for education did something for the mitigation of 
their calamity. 

In the month of July, 1724, Jurgen Meyer, a towns- 
man of Hameln, found in his field a naked, brownish, 
black-haired boy, apparently about twelve years old, who 
uttered no sound. He was enticed, upon two apples 
being shown to him, into the town; and placed, for safe 
custody, in a hospital, by order of the burgomaster. 
Peter—for he was so called by the children on his first 
appearance in the town, and he went by this name to 
his death-—behaved himself in rather a brutish fashion 
at first; seeking to get out of doors and windows, resting 
on his knees and elbows, and rolling himself from side 
to side till he fell asleep. He did not like bread, but he 
eagerly peeled green sticks, and chewed the peel for — 
juice, as he also did vegetables, grass, and bean-shells. — 
He soon learned to conduct himself more properly, and 
was allowed to go about the town. When any thing 
was offered him to eat, he first smelt it, and then put 
it in his mouth, or laid it aside, shaking his head. In 
the same way, he would smell people’s hands, and then 
strike his breast, if pleased, or, if otherwise, shake his 
head. When he particularly hked any thing, as beans, 
peas, mulberries, fruit, and especially onions and nuts, he 
indicated his satisfaction by repeatedly striking his chest. 

When shoes were first given to him, he could not walk 
in them, and appeared happy i getting rid of them, and 
running about bare-footed. Covering the head was 
equally unpleasant to him; and he enjoyed greatly 
throwing his hat or cap into the Weser, and seeing: it 
swim down the river; but he soon became accustomed 
to clothing. His hearing and smell were acute. 

In October, 1725, he was sent for by George I. 
Hanover, whence he was escorted to London ir th 

en mE ie E 
beginning of the following: year by a kine’s mess 





and subsequently committed to the care of Dr. sna 
not. When he was first met with, a small fra emeut of a 


eness of his 


‘ed that he must. 


shirt hung about his neck; and the whi‘ 
thighs, compared with his brown legs, prov 
have worn breeches, but not stockings. Hic: toneuel wall 
very large, and little capable of motic ff. sothit an an 
. 95 y 
surgeon at Hameln thought to set it free. bv Cuttinc “ie 
frenum ; but did not perform t Ae 3 Per 22 Further 
some boatmen, in descending she Wieser had seer af 
different points on the banks — of the river, 4 poor naked 
Me aterm gy > him 2° amething to eat ; and lastly, it 
es lat & W" dower at Luchtringer had had 
a dum child; who, b saving been lost in the woods in 
1723, returned home ,again; but, on his father’s second 
marriage, was dr’ wen out again by his step-mother. 
After remaininyy some time under the care of Dr. Ar- 
buthnot, it wes found that he was incapable of improve- 
ment—that €& was, in fact, an idiot; he was afterwards 
placed witb. a; farmer in Hertfordshire, with whom he 
resided till hi s death in 1785. 

Peter Was of middle size, somewhat robust in appear- 
ance, and st yone, and had a gvood beard. He took the 
ordinay y di et, retaining, however, a great fondness for 
omov.s. J] Je was fond of warmth and relished a glass 
of Tyrand: > 


He co ald not be taught to speak; the plainest of the 
“CW art’ sulate sounds he could utter were Peter, ki sho, 
and qz i ca: the two latter being attempts at pronouncing 


King George and’ Queen Caroline. He had’ a taste 


for m jusic, and’ would hum over various airs that he often 


—_ 


1833.] 


heard ; when an instrumental performance took place, he 
would jump about with great delight till he was quite 
tired. He was never seen to laugh. 

Peter was harmless and docile, could be employed 
with safety about the house, or in the fields if superin- 
tended. Having been left to himself to throw up a load 
of dung into a cart, as soon as he had executed the task, 
he jumped up, and-set to work as diligently to throw it 
all out again. Having on one occasion wandered away 
from home as far as Norfolk, at the time when great 
alarm existed about the Pretender and his emissaries, he 
was brought before a justice of peace as a suspicious 
character ; and making no answer to any interrogatories, 
was deemed contumacious, and sent to prison. A fire 
broke out in the night, when he was found sitting 
quietly in a corner, enjoying the light and warmth very 
much, and not at all frightened. Such is the history 
of Peter the Wild Boy. We proceed to that of the 
Savage of Aveyron. 

A child about eleven or twelve years old, who had 
been seen some years before in the forest of Cawne quite 
naked, and seeking acorns and roots for food, was met 
acar the same spot, in the year 1801, by three huntsmen 
who laid hold ef him at the moment when he was clin 
_ ing up a tree to avoid his pursuers. He was taken to a 

village in the neighbourhood, and put under the care ofa 
woman; but he made his escape a week after, and 
reached the mountains, where he wandered about during 
a severe winter, with nothing but a tattered shirt to cover 
him, retreating at night-fall into solitary places, aud ap- 
proaching the neighbouring villages in the day. He 
continued to lead this savage life until he entered one day. 
an inhabited house in the canton of St. Servin. He was 
retaken, watched and attended to for several days, and 
thence conveyed, first to the hospital of St. Afrique, and 
subsequently to Rhodiz, where he was kept for some 
months. During his stay at these places, he was at-all 
times equally wild, impatient, and_ restless, constantly. 
endeavouring to make his escape. His actions fur- 
nished occasion to observations of the most interesting 
nature. | 

‘Lhe attention of the minister of the parish was at- 
tracted by this extraordinary circumstance, and the youne 
savage of Aveyron was brought, by order of the eovern- 
ment, towards the close of the year 1802, to the capital. 
Great curiosity and expectation were excited in Paris. 
The impression which sO many new and _ surprising 
objects would make on the unsophisticated mind of the 
savage, the degree in which he might be susceptible of 
education, and the hight which the progress of his intel- 
lectual developmeit might throw on the philosophy of 
the human mind,—these topics afforded matter for inte- 
resting speculation. But this interest was much abated 
when the young savage was found to be a disgustingly 
dirty child, affected with spasmodic or convulsive twitches, 
constantly balancing himself: backwards and forwards, 
like certain animals in a menagerie, biting and scratching 
all who offended him, and showing no affection towards 
those who were kind to him; indiiferent to every thing, 
and apparently incapable of fixing his attention upon 
any one object. a 

After some time he was put under the care of Dr. 
Itard, Physician to the Institution for the Deaf and 
Dumb at Paris, who published * an account of the plan 
adopted for rescuing this unfortunate being from the 
state of physical and moral degradation to which he was, 
according to all appearances, irremediably consigned. <A 
report made by Dr. Pinel, after a minute examination of 
the condition of the savage, was sufficiently discouraging. 
The eyes of the boy wandcred from one object to another, 
and were wholly destitute of expression. ‘The sense of 
touch was so defective that he could not distinguish an 
elevated surface from a painting; he was insensible to 

* Ttard de ’Education d’un Homme Sauvage. 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE, 


171 


all sounds, whether Joud or soft; he could only make a 
low guttural noise; he seemed equally indifferent to the 
richest perfumes, and the most fetid exhalations ; and 
was incapable of using his hands for. any other purpose 
than the mere mechanical one of prehension. ‘The state 
of his intellectual functions corresponded with that of 
his sensitive system. Cut off from the ordinary means 
of communication with his fellow-beings, he was destitute 
of memory, judgment, and all imitative power; his 
gestures and notions were purely mechanical, and ‘he 
would pass, without any assignable motive, from a state 
of stupid melancholy to extravagant bursts of laughter ; 
he was incapable of attachment, had not the sliohtest 
moral perception, and seemed to take pleasure in nothing 
but the gratification of his organs of taste. In short, 
his existence was merely animal, and he could pot ‘be 
compared, in point of intellizence, with many of the 
animals which, with reference to their organization, we 
must call inferior. Dr. Pinel was of opinion that his 
case was one of incurable idiocy; but Dr. Itard, while 
he admitted the truth of this deplorable picture in all 
its details, still entertained hopes, considering that the 
probable cause of this individual’s physical and moral 
degradation was his want of all education, and his com- 
plete separation from all individuals of his own species. 

Lo attach him to social life by means of kindness and 
attention to his comforts,—to extend the sphere of his 
ideas by the application of powerful stimuli, moral as 
well as physical, by creating. for him new wants, and 
multiplying lis relations with surrounding objects,—to 
lead him, if possible, to the use of speech, and gradually 
to the exercise of the understanding, by directing, in the 
first instance, the simplest operations of the mind to ob- 
jects connected with his pliysical wants—these were the 
views by which Dr. Itard was governed in prosecuting 
what at first appeared to be a hopeless undertaking, and 
his efforts were so far successful, that, at the end of nine 
months, a very decided improvement was effected in the 
physical and inteliectual condition of the unfortunate 
object of his benevolent attentions. In fact, at the end of 
this time his appearance and demeanour did not mate- 
rially differ trom those of an ordinary child, deprived of 
the use of speech; an improvement, he observed, which 
to those who saw him in his wild and appareuitly irre- 
claimable state must have seemed incredible. 

The cases of Peter the Wild Boy, and the Savage of 
Aveyron, were most probably cases of defective organi- 
zation. In other instances, where the faculty of speech 
was ultimately developed, we have only to make allow- 
ances for exaggeration in the accounts given of the early 
habits of these so-called wild individuals, and there is 
nothing in their history which the circumstances under 
which they were found will not easily account for. Lan- 
guage is acquired by imitation, and there is nothing 
extraordinary, therefore, in the circumstance of indivi- 
duals, cut off from intercourse with society, but free 
from any organic defect, having been found for a time 
incapable of uttering articulate sounds. As to the ac- 
counts of human beings going on all fours, or of inferior 
animals habitually maintaining the erect attitude, ana- 
tomy furnishes the best answer to these misrepresenta- 
tions. The great length and power of the lower limbs 
in man, which admirably qualify him for the erect posi- 
tion, render him altogether unfit for going on all fours. 
On the other hand, in the quadrumanous animals (such 
as monkeys) the lower extremities are comparatively 
weak and slender; and they always have the knees half 
bent, in comsequence of the peculiar formation of the 
thigh bone, and the position of the muscles which bend 
the leo. The. forest is the natural domicile of these 
animals; and when necessity or inclination brings thein 
to the ground, from the trees to which they chiefly con- 
fine themselves, their motion is, for the most part, that 


of quadrupeds. x 


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1833. | 
CARTOONS OF RAFFAELLE.—No. 5. 


ST. PETER CURING THE CRIPPLE. 

Bryonp all painters Raffaelle claims the praise of never 
repeating his own ideas. In considering the multipli- 
city of his compositions we are astonished at the extent 
of his invention. ‘The subject engraved in the present 
number, St. Peter curing the Cripple, is precisely similar 
to that of the cartoon which preceded it. In the scrip- 
tural narrative of the two miracles there are few points of 
difference ; yet among all Raffaelle’s works no two sub- 
jects can be found more completely and entirely dissimilar. 
This diversity: has been obtained chiefly by seiecting 
from one:narrative, the Sacrifice at Lystra,.a point of 
time subsequent to the performance of the miracle,— 
from the other, the moment immediately preceding it. 
The subject of the cartoon before us, St. Peter healing 
a Cripple, or, as it is sometimes called, the Beautiful 
Gate, is less diversified with action and incidents than 
that of Paul and Barnabas; but the scene in which the 
event'takes place is filled with such a range of character 
and picturesque accompaniments, as to render it one of 
the most striking and effective of all the cartoons. 

_ The Apostles Peter and Jolin were entering the temple 
at Jerusalem by the ‘‘ gate which was called beautiful 52 
the cripple, who was brought there daily, and lad been 
lame from his birth, solicited alms as they passed.— 
“Then Peter said, Silver and gu.d have I none, but 
such as IJ have, I give unto thee: in the name of 
Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk! And he 
took him by the right hand, and lifted him up, and 
immediately lis feet and aukle-bones received strength ; 
and he, leaping up, stood and walked, and entered 
with them into the temple, walking and leaping, and 
praising God.” -,: 

We may conclude, as the epithet “ beautiful” was 
applied to the vestibule in which this event took place, 
that it was remarkable for architectural magnificence. 
Raffaelle, accordingly, has selected an order of columns 
of the most ornate splendour ; spiral, and embellished 
with arabesques in bas-relief. ‘These pillars are ranged 
four deep, a plan which gives fulness and richness of 
effect, and at the same time leaves depth and space, 
and a sufficient atmosphere for the figures to move 
and breathe freely in,—a point which even in his most 
crowded compositions Raffaelle is always careful to 
secure. The Apostles Peter and John occupy the mid- 
dle compartment, that, of course, which fronts the eye 
of the spectator ; and before them is the cripple, whose 
hand the Apostle has taken. ‘The action of St. Peter 
is simple and dignified ; it exhibits, however, nothing of 
the lofty demeanour which may be supposed to charac- 
terize power merely human; neither is there in it a 
trace of doubt, nor of the anxiety and eager interest 
which may be felt by a physician while watching the 
progress of an extraordinary cure. St. Peter is fully 
conscious that he wields infallible power, but that lie 
holds it as the organ of Omnipotence. St. John regards 
the cripple with an air of the most mild and gracious 
benevolence. Expression is dispersed and discriminated 
among the surrounding figures with Raflaelle’s usual 
variety and power. Curiosity, faith, and scepticism 
are all manifested. The old man whio léaus on crutclies, 
and presses forward from behind the column, evinces 
the most absolute belief in the divine power vested in 
the Apostles, and seems to implore its exercise in his 
own behalf: the soldier on the extreme night participates 
in this confidence; while the countenance of the man 
next him, who lays his finger on his lip, bears the 
strongest indications of scorn and incredulity.’ An 
amiable mother diversifies this group; her attention is 
absorbed by her infant, and she gives but a casual 
glance at the transactious which are passing round her ; 
her beautiful head and that of the infant are admivably 


contrasted by the personification of sturdy deformity | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


173 


exhibited in the cripple who is placed before her; he 
regards the Apostles eagerly; half jealous, apparently, 
of whatever assistance is about to be bestowed on his 
fellow, and impatient to partake in it. 

The figures on the extreme left occupy the outer 
portico, and are not,. consequently, within-range of the 
principal action. The group of the young woman who 
carries a basket on her. head, and leads a boy bearing 
doves, is one of the loveliest creations in art. The bright 
open sky, seen between the interstices. of the columns, 
harmonizes with the lightness, cheerfulness, and happy 
expression of those figures. In the compartment where 
the miracle is taking place there is a similar correspon- 
dence cf effect with sentiment. The stibdued light 
of-lamps burning in the depths of the recess accords 
well with the reverential feeling: excited by the sacred 
transaction. § ? 


# 


The Lancasterian Systemin Greece, A.D. 1669.—We found 
about thirty young lads sitting upon benches, and their 
master at the head of them teaching them to read: His 
method was pretty,’ and much beyond ours; the master 
causing the whole class to read at a time without confusion, 
every scholar being obliged to attention, and to mind what 
his next neighbour reads.. They had, each of them, the 
same author in his hand; and, for example, if he had thirty 
scholars he chose out some continued discourse, and gave 
them but thirty words to read; the first boy reading the first 
word, the second boy the second word, the third boy the 
third, and'soon. If they read soundly and right, he gave 
them thirty words more; but if any of the boys were out or 
imperfect, he was corrected by the next, who-was ‘always 
very exact in observing him, and he his neighbour, till the 
whole number of words were read. So that the thirty scholars, 
lying all of them at catch, and ready to take advantage of any 
defect in their neighbour, stimulated by an ambition of being 
thought the best scholar, every one’s lesson was the lesson 
of all, and happy was he that could say it the best. ‘To obviate 
any of the scholars in eluding that order by preparing himself 
for any single words, their places were changed, and*he who 
was at one reading in the first place was removed a greater 
distauce in the next. Thus one. lesson was enough for a 
whole form, how numerous soever, and which was very con 
venient for the master; the boys were not constrained to 
come to him one after another, for every one was a master to 
his neighbour.—Gwutllatiére, quoted 1m Hennen's Medical 
Topography of the Mediterranean. 


Plum-Pudding.—The following is the account of the 
method of making plum-pudding in England given by the 
Chevalier d’ Arvieux in 1658° “Their pudding was detestable. 
It is a compound of scraped biscuit, or flour, suet, currants, 
salt, and pepper, which are made into a paste, wrapped in a 
cloth, and boiled in a pot of broth; it is then taken out of 
the cloth, and put in a plate, and some old cheese 1s grated 
over it, Which gives it an unbearable smell. Leaving out the 
cheese, the thing itself is not so very bad.” 


The Violet.—Although this favourite httle flower has 
viyen its name to one of the primitive colours, we must not 
imagine that the violet is always of a violet hue; it is often 
blue, purple, lilac, or white. ‘The viola tricolor indeed is 
partly yellow, but then in common life this is called a 
heart’s-case ; botanically speaking, however, it is a wolet. 
The flowers were formerly considered pectoral; 2. e. useful 
in diseases of the chest; but the supposed virtues of the 
whole class of pectoral medicines have vanished before the 
severe medical criticism of the last fifty years; and at the 
present day the petals of the violet are never prescribed by 
educated practitioners. The root of the violet, however, is an 
emetic, and may be useful as a domestic remedy in country 
practice. The dose is forty grains. The infusion of violets 
is one of the most delicate tests of the presence of acids and 
alkalies; the former changes its colour to red, the latter to 
green. According to Lightfoot, the Highland ladies of 
former times used the violet as a cosmetic, the old Gaelic 
receipt being ‘“‘ Anoint thy face with goats’ milk in which 
violets have been infused, and there is not a young prince 
pon earth who will not be charmed with thy beauty.” 


VTA 
ON EDUCATION. 


* Tris our fashion,” says Plutarch, “to discuss and to 
doubt whether -discretion, and virtuous habits, and up- 
right living are things that can be taught; and then 
we wonder that skilful orators, good navigators, archi- 
tects, and farmers are in plenty; but good men are 
things known only by report, and are as rare as Cen- 
taurs, Giants, and Cyclops.” And further, he says, “ We 
learn to play on musical instruments, and to dance, and 
{o read, to farm, to ride the horse; we learn how to put 
on our clothes, and our shoes; we are taught how to 
pour out wine, how to prepare food; and all these are 
things that, without some instruction, we cannot do 
well. But the object for which all this is done, to live a 
good and happy life, remains untaught, is without the 
direction of reason and art, and is left altogether to 
chance.” | 

The complaint which the Greek moralist made so 
many centuries ago may be repeated at the present 
day. We learn, at least the richer part of us, to dance, 
and to sine—both very good things in their way; we 
learn languages, living and dead, and rather more of the 
latter than the former; we learn arts and _ sciences, 
which tend to improve the mental faculties, and extend 
our views of the physieal world, and the laws that regu- 
late its existence. We learn also to name all the virtues 
and vices; and we are taught that the virtues are to be 
practised, and the vices to be shunned. But are we 
taught when young to acquire those habits, without 
which the knowledge of a rule of conduct is practically 
inefficient ? 
as habitually to practise those virtues which are incul- 
cated under the most solemn sanctions? ‘This is a 
branch of education still very imperfect; but when the 
time comes, as we trust it soon will, when universal edu- 
cation will form the basis of our social system, it will be 
necessary to consider, if, with the knowledge of moral 
truth, the practice of it also cannot be acquired. When 
we consider what a great number of things all the world 
agrees ought not to be done, and how many all the 
world agrees ought to be done, the disproportion be- 
tween the knowledge of what is right, and the practice 
of it, is not a little striking. Persons of the most vicious 
habits are often ready to acknowledge that they know 
their practices to be bad; but the force of custom is 
superior to the knowledge of right. It cannot be said, 


in all cases, that men know one course of conduct to be 


right, and yet pursue a contrary course, because some 
present gratification misleads them: men often do that 
which is positively and immediately injurious to them- 
selves. Under the influence of violent passions, a mau 
often commits an act, which must be considered rather 
as a consequence of a temporary deprivation of the 
reasoning faculty, than as a momentary indulgence. 
That the part of education, which has for its object the 
formation of good habits, is still very defective in all 
Classes of society, is a fact that cannot be denied. In 
the richest classes it is perhaps the most defective ; 
though, as the richest are but a small part of the com- 
inunity, their vices less affect the general welfare. 

It would seem at the present day a matter of the 
highest importance, in a country like this, where so 
many people depend for their living on the daily labour 
of their hands, to train up every child of the working 
classes in nabits of cleanliness, regularity, the practice 
of truth, of self-control, and a knowledge that on him- 
self depends mainly his happiness or his misery ; that 
all the exertions of the benevolent to better his condi- 
tion, and all the indifference of the selfish to lis suffer- 
Ings, have comparatively little permanent influence on 
the condition of the great mass of society. But still, iu the 
present State of affairs, the poor should be helped a step 
forward, by their richer neighbours contributing the chief 
part towards the establishment of proper schools for their 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Are we so trained at home and at school 


[May 4, 


children. It is perhaps an advantage, that hitherto no 
decisive measures have been taken for a general system 
of education; for we believe we are much more likely 
to see something really useful established now, than if 
any plan proposed a dozen or twenty years ago had 
been adopted, and had taken root. 

The question which Plutarch says was debateable in 
his time, may perhaps by some be considered so still, 
but it is worth while making the experiment; and since 
precept alone is found to be inefficient, let us see whe- 
ther the practice of good habits cannot he acquired 
more extensively than it is, by an appropriate system of 
discipline. In every well regulated school, no doubt . 
much good is done by the habits of regularity which are 
required, by the religious and moral precepts that are 
inculcated, and by the example of the teachers, and their 
communication with the pupil, out of the hours of regular 
instruction. But the radical evil that prevails in most 
schoois for the middle classes, is the abuse of the system of 
competition or emulation, the excess of which, so far from 
being necessary to produce even intellectual excellence, is, 
we believe, in the long run unfavourable to it. ‘The art 
of teaching, in its widest sense, consists in making the 
thing taught agreeable; if a thing does not give plea- 
Sure, it is rare to find any instance of excellence being 
attained in it, even under the competitive plan. The 
short, and often violent efforts, nrade under the system 
of emulation, tend to destroy all real love for what is 
morally and intellectually good. ‘* When the Lacede- 
monian teacher,” says Plutarch, “ was asked what he 
did in his profession: ‘I make boys,’ said he, ‘ like that 
which is good.’ ” 


THE PEARL FISHERY OF CEYLON. 


As there exist many popular errors on this very inte- 
resting subject, we will endeavour to give an account of 
the fishery from materials which we have derived from 
the most authentic sources. Foremost among these we 
must place a recent work* by the Count de Noe, now 
a peer of France, but formerly one of the French eini- 
orants, and an officer in the British army, in which latter 
capacity he went to India. ‘This gentleman was for a 
considerable time stationed, with part of the regiment to 
which he belonged, at the very spots where the pearl 
fishery was carried on. He had thus ample means of 
observation; and, according to the testimony of those 
who have enjoyed the same advantages at the same 
places, the information M. de Noé gives is extremely 
correct. 

The pearl oysters, like our common oysters, lie in 
banks, at greater or less depths in the sea. ‘These 
banks occur on the western side of the island of Ceylon, 
about fifteen miles from the shore , where their average 
depth is about twelve fathoms, and here the greatest of 
all pearl fisheries has been carried on for many ceu- 
turies. They seem always to have been considered as 
the property of the King or Kings of Ceylon; the 
Dutch monopolized them during their power; and since 
the occupation of the island by the British, our govern- 
ment has continued to sell by auction the privilege of 
fishing on them. ‘These sales} are only made for one 
season. 

The fishery always begins in the month of April, 
because in those latitudes the sea is then at its calmest 
state, and it is generally continued until the middle or 


* ¢ Mémoires relatifs 41’? Expedition Anglaise de ’ Inde en Egypte. 

+ Off Aripo, Chilow, and Condatchy. 

t Of late years a single auction sale of the whole fishery has 
been made to one individual, a great speculator, who afterwards 
sells shares of the banks to others. The biddings at the auction 
are revulated by the examination of some thousands of oysteis 
picked previously from the banks, at hazard. If the average qua- 
lity of pearls produced from these sample oysters is very good, the 
bidder yaises his offer; if bad, he lowers it. 


1833.] 


end of May. It not only attracts a multitude of Cin- 
galese, or natives of the island, to the coast, but 
crowds of speculators from all parts of the vast Indian 
peninsula, whose variety of language, manners, and 
dress, is described as being very striking and pleasing. 
The temporary abodes erected by them, or for them, are 
also curions and picturesque. Ona solitary sea-shore a 
mass of almost innumerable huts is at once seen to arise 
on the eve of the fishery. These huts are merely com- 
posed of a few poles stuck in the gyound, interwoven 
with light bamboos, and covered with the leaves of the 
cocoa-nut tree; “ yet,” says M. de Nod, “ these ephe- 
meral habitations often shelter as riany as one hundred 
and fifty. thousand persons.” 

The signal for beginning the fishery is given at day- 
break by the discharge of a canrion, on which a count- 
less fleet of boats, that have started from the shore at 
midnight, and favoured by a land-breeze have reached 
the banks before dawn, cast anchor in the respective 
parts of the banks for “vhich their owners have con- 
tracted, and proceed ta work. Government vessels are 
on the spot to prevent, any boat from fishing beyond its 
proper limits. The boats of the pearl fishers generally 
Carry a captain, a pilyt and twenty men, ten of whom 
are experienced divers, The ten divers ate divided into 
two companies, of five each, and these companies plunge 
and rehev~ each other by turns. 
in ‘order that they may descend through the water 
ior greater rapidity to the base of the bank round 
“which the oysters are clustered, the divers place their 
feet on a stone attached to the end of a rope, the other 
end of which is made fast to the boat. They carry with 
them another rope, the extremity of which is held by 
two men in the boat, whilst to the lower part, that 
descends with the diver, there is fastened a net or 
basket. Besides these, every diver is furnished with a 
strong knife to detach the oysters, or serve him as a 
defensive weapon in case he should be attacked by a 
shark. As soon as they touch ground they gather 
the oysters with all possible speed, and having filled 
their net or basket, they quit their hold of the rope with 
the stone, pull that which is held by the sailors in the 
boat, and rapidly ascend to the surface of the sea. 

‘Lhe marvellous stories that are told of the length of 
time that these divers can remain under water have no 
foundation in truth. The intelligent Mr. Henry Mar- 
shall* informs us, that in the whole course of his expe- 
rience he rarely knew the submersion of one of them last 
longer than fifty seconds. This is about the time that 
we have seen the men in the bay of Naples, who dive for 
frutta di mare, or small shell-fish, and the Greek 
islanders of the Archipelago, who dive for sponges, re- 
main under water; and these two classes are the most 
famous divers in Europe, and likely, from their physical 
construction, sober way of living, and constant practice, 
to carry their art to its utmost natural limits. Ribeyro, 
a Portuguese officer, who was nineteen years on the 
island, says, that the Ceylon plunger could stay under 

water for the space of time in which two credos might 
be repeated, and the Catholic belief may be said over 
twice in about fifty seconds. 

Although sharks are numerous in the seas round 
Ceylon, accidents rarely happen. ‘This may be attri- 
buted to the noise and stir occasioned by the gathering 
of so many boats ou one spot, and the continual plung- 
ing of the divers, which must frighten and disperse the 
voracious animals; but the superstitious Cingalese ra- 
ther attribute their safety to certain charms they buy 
from old women, who pretend they can bewitch the 
sharks, and preveut them from attacking their cus- 
tomers. Instances have however occurred, when neither 


W 


* This gentleman is Deputy Inspector of Army Hospitals, and 


was for many years surgeon to the forces at Ceylon, on the medical 


topography of which island he has written some yery valuable notes, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


175 


‘the natural noise kept up by the boats, nor the super- 
natural protection,.has deterred the shark ; and the diver 
‘by means of his knife, and great dexterity, has killed 
‘the monster, and escaped’ unhurt. 

Alternately plunging and’ reposing, the divers Dy 
tinue their occupation until about ten o'clock jn the 
forenoon, when the sea-breeze begins to blow, and one 
of the government vessels fires a pun, as a signal for the 
whole flotilla to return to shore. As soon as the boats. 
touch the beach, an immense number of labourers, men, , 
women, and children, rush to them, and carry off the 
produce of the day’s fishing. Every speculator has his 
own group of huts, and in the midst of each of these is 
a coutto, or space of ground enclosed with poles and 
transverse pieces of bamboo, but open to the air. In 
these couttds are deposited the oysters as they are landed,. 
and there they are left to putrefy, which they soon do. 
under a burning sun. It is a curious fact, that though. 
these numerous couttés, each containing’ an enormous: 
mass of oysters, all putrefy together on a narrow extent 
of soil, and emit the most detestable odours, yet the 
health of the precarious but crowded population gathered 
there is in no ways affected. “ During two consecutive: 
years,’ says M. de Noé, “that I did duty at the fishery, 
I never saw a soldier of my regiment sick : Europeans: 
and Sepoys all equally enjoyed good health.” And Mr: 
Marshall has observed to us, that in this climate, where 
the effects of vegetable decomposition are so fatal and 
so rapid, those of animal decomposition are almost. 
innocuous. 

As soon as the putrefaction is sufficiently advanced 
the oysters are taken from the cowtié, and placed in 
troughs, made of the trunk of trees, hollowed; sea- 
water is then thrown over them. In their putrid state 
the oysters easily render the pearls they contain; and a 
number of men, all standing on the same side of the 
trough, rapidly shake them out and wash them. In- 
spectors stand at each end of the trough to see that the 
labourers secrete none of the pearls, and others are in the 
rear to examine whether the shells thrown out as worth- 
less may not contain some of the precious substance. 
Lhe workmen are prohibited under penalty of a beating 
to lift their hands to their mouths while they are washing 
the pearls. Notwithstanding these precautions and the 
vigilance of the inspectors, a man sometimes contrives to 
swallow a pearl of high price. After all the shells are 
thrown out, the pearls they may have contained remain 
on the sand at the bottom of the trough. The largest of 
these pearls are carefully picked up and washed repeat- 
edly with clean water; the Next in size and quality are 
merely taken from the trough and spread out on white 
napkuis to dry in the sun; it is not till this is done that 
any attention is paid to the smallest pearls which are 
generally left to the care of women who pick them up 
aud dry them. ‘Yo assort the pearls afterwards they 
make use of three. sieves placed one above the other. 
The apertures in the uppermost sieve are the largest, and 
the apertures of the second sieve larger than those of the 
third sieve. ‘Thus the pearls that do not pass throngh 
but remain in the first sieve are of the first class, and so 
on to the second and third. It remains, however, for 
an after examination to decide on other qualities which 
oive value to.the pearls, as their regularity of form, 
colour, &c. And here it is worth while to remark, that 
whilst in Europe we most esteem the pearls which are 
purely white, the people of the island prefer those which 
are rose-coloured, and the Indians and other orientals, 
those which are yellow. Besides these three colours, - 
pearls are found of a delicate blue tint, and some have a 
eolden aud some a silvery hue. 

‘The pearl,’ says M. de Noe, “is a malady of the 
oyster, which requires seven years to develope itself 
completely. If the shell is not fished at that time, the 
animal dies, or the pearl is lost. When the season 


176 


happens to be stormy-the oysters often suffer, and their 
produce is consequently diminished. Perhaps in those 
occasions they open and disgorge their pearls. ‘The 
pearl-oyster is the same size as our own, but oval in 
shape, and quite flat on one side. The testaceous fish 
enclosed in the shell has a beard like the muscle.” 

At the time of this fishery at Ceylon, besides the 
numerous speculators that come from India, there annu- 
ally arrive troops of Indian artizans who are very expert 
in piercing or drilling the pearls, and who practise their 
art on the spot for very moderate wages. ‘These men 
sit in the open air before the hut of the fisher or specu- 
lator by whom they may be employed. Nothing can 
well be more simple than the implements they use. 
hese are merely a block of wood in the form of an 
inverted cone which rests on three legs, and whose upper 
surface is pierced with circular holes of various diameter 
fitted to receive the variously. sized pearls. Their drill 
is merely a short, sharp needle, inserted in a stick, which 
is made circular at the top, and set in motion by a bow 
like those used by our watch-makers, &c. ‘They hold 
the right hand between the bow and the pearl, and move 
the bow with the left hand., Sitting on the ground cross- 
legwed, they keep the block of wood between their knees, 


and apply the drill perpendicularly, to the pearl, which 


they are said to pierce with extraordinary rapidity and 


correctness. | al * 

. During the prosecution of the fishery, few places can 
be more animated than the western point of Ceylon. 
The oysters or the cleansed. pearls are bought and sold 
on the spot, and: besides this.trade the, confluence of so 
many crowds from different countries attracts dealers in 
all sorts of merchandize. _'The Jong line of huts is a 


continuous bazaar; and all is life and activity. But, the 


fishery over, both natives and strangers depart, the huts 


are knocked down; scarcely a human habitation can be 
seen for miles,and the most dreary solitude prevails 


until the next year. 





- _ MORNING HYMN. 
Sleep, forsake us !. may.the soul 
"Gladden in its Maker's sight, 

As the clouds that o’er us roll 
Sparkle in the morning ‘light. 
God of life, be Thou the ray . 

Of our dim and wandering course ; 
Light us, as the star of day, 

On to Truth’s eternal source. 





Military Surgeons in the Sixteenth Century.—I remem- 
ber when I was in thé.wars at Muttrel. in the time of that 
most famous prince, ‘King Henry VIII., there was a great 
rabblement there, that took upon them to be surgeons. 
Some were sow-gelders and horse-gelders, with tinkers and 
cobblers. This noble sect did such’ great cures, that they 
got themselves a perpetual name, for like as Thessalus’s 
sect were called Thessalians, so was this rabblement, for their 
notorious cures, called dog-leeches; for in two dressings 
they did commonly make their cures whole and sound for 
ever, so that they neither felt heat nor cold, nor no manner 
of pain after. But when the Duke of Norfolk, who was 
their general, understood how the people did die, and that 
of small wounds, he sent for me, and certain other surgeons, 
commanding us to make search how these men came to 
their death, whether it were by the grievousness of their 
wounds, or by the lack of knowledge of the surgeons; and 
we, according to our commandment, made search through 
all the camp, and found many of the same good . fellows, 
which took upon them the names of surgeons,—not only 
the names, but the wages also. We asking of them whether 
they were surgeons or no; they said they were. We de- 
manded with whom they were brought up; and they, with 
shameless faces, would answer, either with one cunning man 
or another who was dead. Then we demanded of them 
what chirurgery stuff they had to cure men’ withal; and 
they would show us a pot or box, which they had in a 
budget, wherein was such trumpery as they did use to 
grease horses heels, and laid ywpon scabbed porses’ backs ; 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 4, 1833. 


and others that were cobblers and tinkers, they used shoe - 
makers’ wax, with the rust of old pans, and made there 
withal a noble salve, as they did term it. But in the end 
this worthy rabblement was committed to the Marshalsea, 
and threatened by the Duke's Grace to be hanged for their 
worthy deeds, except they would declare the truth what 
they were, and of what occupation; and in the end they did 
confess, as I have declared to you before.—Thomas Gale, 
quoted tn Ballsngall’s Military Surgery. 
Minerals in Vegetables——In many parts of the East there 
has long been a medicine in high repute, called Tabasheer, 
obtained from a substance found in the hollow stem of the 
bamboo'cane ; some of this was brought to England about 
twenty years ago, and underwent a chemical investigation, 
and proved to be an earthy substance, principally of a flinty 
nature; this substance is also sometimes found in the bamboo 
erown in England. In the hot-house of Dr. Pitcairn, at 
Islington, subsequent to this time, there was found in one of 
the joints of a bamboo which grew there, on cutting it, a solid 
pebble about the size of a pea. The pebble was of an irre- 
gular rounded form, of a dark brown or black colour ; inter- 
nally it was reddish brown, of a close dull texture, much like 
some martial ‘siliceous stones. In one corner there were 
shining. particles which appeared to. be crystals, but too 
minute to be distinguished even with a microscope. This 
substance was so hard as to cut glass. The cuficle, or exte- 
rior covering of straw, has also a portion of flinty matter in its 
composition, from which circumstance, whem burnt, 1t makes 
an:exquisitely fine powder for giving the last polish to mar- 
ble, a use to which it has-been applied time imimemorial, 
without the principle’ being philosophically known. Yn the 
creat heat in the. East Indies,:it isnot uncommon for large 
tracts of reeds to be set on fire, in their motion by: the wind, 
as Lam told by Captain N——-, which I conjecture must arise 
from the flinty surface of their leaves rubbing against each 
other in their agitation. ,These facts cannot avoid presenting 
to the mind, at one view, the boundless laws of nature; 
while a simple vegetable is secreting the most ‘volatile and 
evanescent perfiimes, ‘it also secretes a substance which is an 
ingredient in the-primeval-mountains of the globe. _ 
_‘[From ‘Elements of the Science of- Botany as established by 





| Linneuws,’ an entertaining and instructive work—Martial, in the 


above extract, means containing iron, and siliceous means flinty. ] 


Abstraction from ourselves recommended.—Men are apt 
to grow, in the apostolic phrase, too “ worldly :”’ the pro- 
pensity of our nature, or rather’ the ‘operation. of our state, 
is to plunge us, the lower orders of the community, in’ the 
concerns of the day, and our masters, in the cares of wealth 
and gain. ‘It 1s ‘good. for us sometimes to-be “in the 
mount... Those. thiigs are.to be cherished which tend to 
elevate us, above. our ordinary sphere, and to. abstract us 
from’ our common.and every-day concerns. , The affectionate 
recollection and admiration of :the dead.will act gently upon 
our spirits, and fill us with a composed seriousness, favourable 
tothe best and most honourable contemplations.—Godwin's 
Essay on Sepulchres. © ore 


<a : -) 7: — =) 4 
Black Tecth.—The teeth of the Tonquinese (like those of 
the Siamese*) are as black as art can make them: the 
dyeing occupies three or four days, and is done to both boys 
and girls when they are about twelve or fourteen years old , 
during the whole operation they never take any nourish- 
ment, except of the liquid kind, for fear of being poisoned 
by the pigment if they swallowed what required mastication. 
Every person, high and low, rich and poor, is obliged to 
undergo this severe operation, alleging it would be a 
disgrace to human nature to have teeth white as those of 
dongs or elephants. —_ 
Prior mentions this custom, but transfers it to the Chinese. 
In China none hold women sweet, 
Unless their snags are black as jet : 
King Chihu put nine queens to death, 
Convict on statute iv’ry teeth.’ 


Tennant s Outlines of the Globe. 


* The countries of both these people are in the immediate neigh- 
bourhood of China. 


~ 





*,* The Oifice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALI-MALL EAST, 


Printed by Wini1am CLowes, Stamford Street, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


71.1 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[May 11, 1833 


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[West Front of Peterborough Cathedral.] 


Like the Cathedral of Lichfield, of which we gave an 
account in our 61st number, the Cathedral of Peterbo- 
rough possesses the advantage of nearly standing apart 
from every other building. With the exception of some 
of the prebendal houses, which abut upon the southern 
termination of the transept, the ground is clear for a con- 
siderable space around it on all sides. The old church- 
yard—long the only one in the city, and consequently 
crowded with tombstones—encompasses its eastern extre- 
mity, and extends alone part of both the north and south 
sides. About ten or twelve years ago the authorities of 
the cathedral began to lay out this ancient and extensive 


Chaise at Paris, planting it with laurels, pines, willows, 
and other trees, shrubs, and flowers. These operations, 
which were carried on for some years, have been exe- 
cuted with great taste, and have proved in a high degree 
ornamental to the aspect of the cathedral. Before the 
western front is a spacious court, which is also now 
neatly laid out in grass-plats and gravelled walks, while 
rows of ancient elms combine with the noble architec- 
ture of other times, by which,it is on all sides sur- 
rounded, to preserve to it an air of majesty in keeping 
with the sanctity of the spot. In the centre of the wall 
opposite to the cathedral is a turreted gate, leading to 


cemetery in a manner somewhat similar to that of Lai the city, and forming the entrance to re ~~ pre- 


. Vou. II, 


178 


cincts; in the south wall is another, which conducts to 
the episcopal palace; and in the north wall is a third, 
that of the deanery. All the three are rich and imposing 
structures. The site of the cathedral not being elevated 
above that of the surrounding country, which indeed is 
a dead flat for many miles, the building cannot be seen 
from a very great distance ; but its great extent, and the 
hei¢ht of its towers, make it a conspicuous and re- 
markable object from every point from which a view of 
the city is to be obtained. Its pinnacles and spires shoot 
from the foliage in which they are embosomed far 
beyond all the surrounding buildings. 

Like the generality of our other cathedrals, that of 
Peterborough consists of a nave with side aisles, termi- 
nated at the east end by a choir, the further extremity 
of which is circular, and crossed at the middle by a 
transept. There is also in this instance a much smaller 
transept at the west end. From the centre, where the 
nave and the transept cross each other, rises the great 
lantern tower, to the height of above 188 feet. Over 
the two extremities of the west end are two other spires 
of less elevation, and one of which indeed (that to thie 
south) appears never to have been completed. Accord- 
ing to a measurement taken by Dr. William Parker, more 
than half a century ago, and printed in the late edition 
of Dugdale’s Monasticon, the length of the whole edi- 
fice from east to west is about 480 feet, of which the 
nave occupies 231 feet, and the choir, from the door to 
the altar, 138. The breadth of the nave is 91 feet, and 
its height 78. ‘The great transept is 203 feet in length, 
and 69 in breadth. 

The ‘character of the architecture of this cathedral 
is, upon the whole, rather majestic than picturesque. 
fivery thing is in the most massive style. In the inte- 
rior the pillars, which are not numerous, are of great 
circumference, and present an appearance of solidity and 
strength corresponding to the ponderous pile which they 
help to sustain. ‘The most hiehly ornamented part of 
the exterior is, aS usual, the west front. It is divided 
into three compartments, formed by so many lofty 
arches, in the central and narrowest of which is the 
great door, surmounted by a projecting structure called 
the Chapel of St. Thomas a Becket, having a tower with 
pinnacles on each side of it. The effect of this facade, 
whichis 156 feet in breadth, while the height of the arches 
is 82, is in the highest degree grand and imposing. 

Peterborough, originally called Medeshamsted, from 
the meadows on both banks of the river Nen, in the 
midst of which it was placed, was at first a monastery, 
the foundation of which is said to have been ‘laid by 
Peada, king of Mercia, son of the famous King Penda, 
about the year 655. Anold monkish writer states, that 
the stones which were employed in laying its founda- 
tions were many of them so large that they could hardly 
be drawn by eight pairs of oxen. But the buildings 
erected by Peada, and by his two younger brothers, 
Wulfer and Ethelred, who succeeded him on the throne, 
were reduced to ruin in 870 by the Danes, who, under 
the command of Earl Hubba, made a furious attack 
upon the place, and put the Abbot Hedda and his 
monks, eighty-four in number, to the sword, plundering 
the monastery at the same time of whatever it con- 
tained; after this they set it on fire, when it is said to 
have burned for fifteen days. 

The monastery lay waste and uninhabited for about 


a century after this calamity, the area of the church 


coming at last to be used us a place of confinement for 
cattle; when, in 966, its restoration was commenced, 
under the patronage of King Edgar, by Athelwold, 
bishop of Winchester. The building, however, was again 
burnt down by accident in 1116. Two years after, the 
foundation of a@ new church was laid by the abbot, 
John de Sais, or Seez, (or, as Gunton calls him, John 
of Salisbury,) who was a Norman; and the structure 
thus begun is supposed to be the present cathedral. ‘The 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 1], ; 


part which John de Sais built was probably the east 
end. ‘The work was carried on with more or less zeal 
by his successors; but the records of their several addi- 
tions are very imperfect, and we are left to conjecture 
the age of some of the most important parts of the 
building, merely from the style of the architecture. 
Mr. Britton thinks that, with the exception of some 
unessential appendages, the whole must have been com- 
pleted by about the middle of the thirteenth century. 
It is a curious fact, that although glass is said to have 
been introduced into England before the end of the 
seventh century, the windows of the Cathedral of Peter- 
borough are described, more than five hundred years 
after this time, as only stuffed with reeds and straw. 

Perhaps none of our other catlfedrals suffered so 
creatly as this from the fanatical ravages of the repub- 
lican soldiery. A body of them, in 1643, literally de- 
stroyed every thing within the building, and stripped it 
to the bare walls. On this occasion nearly all the ancient 
records and documents were torn to pieces and burnt. 
The cathedral has since undergone various alterations 
and repairs; but the most important was the restoration 
of the interior of the choir, most admirably executcd a 
few years ago by Mr. Edward Blore, at an expense of 
£6000, which was partly contributed by the Dean and 
Chapter, and partly raised by subscription. ‘The choir 
of Peterborough Cathedral is now, perhaps, unsurpassed 
in richness and beauty by that of any other in England. 

The Abbey of Peterborough having been surrendered 
to the King by the then abbot, John Chambers, in 1540, 
was the following year erected into a bishopric, Cham- 
bers being consecrated the first occupant of the new 
see; at the same time it was ordered that the residence 
of the abbot should become the bishop’s palace. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrion 8. 
ORGANIC REMAINS: 


We have already stated, and particularly in our third 
section, (p. 58,) that the stratified rocks contain the 
remains of animals and plants; and that beds of stone, 
situated many miles distant from each other, may be 
proved to belong to the same place in the order of suc- 
cession of the strata, by remains of organized bodies, or 
FossILs, of identical species being found in the stone at 
both places. ‘The word Fossz/, which means any thing 
that may be dug out of the earth, used to be applied to 
all minerals; but modern geologists have conveniently 
restricted its application to organized bodies contained 
in the loose or solid beds composing the crust of the 
globe, and which are, for the most part, petrified; that 
is, converted into stone. Josstls are now always under- 
stood to be petrified remains of animals or plants, and 
we say fossil shells, fossil bones, fossil trees, &c. We 
are enabled to make out, by the aid of those bodies, that 
a bed of limestone on the coast of Dorsetshire, another 
on the coast of Yorkshire, a third in the western islands 
of Scotland, and a fourth in the interior of Germany, 
although differing perhaps in appearance, as far as the 
mere limestone is concerned, belong to the same age or 
period of formation in the chronological order of the 
strata. (See Diagram No. 1, Section 2, p. 21.) 

Fossils reveal to us the important and wonderful fact, 
that the Author of Nature had created different species 
of animals and plants, at successive and widely distant 
intervals-of time, and that many of those that existed in 
the earlier ages of our globe had become totally extinct, 
before the creation of others in later periods; that, prior 
to:man being called into existence, innumerable species 
of living beings had covered the surface of the earth, 
for a series of ages, to which we are unable, and pro- 
bably shall ever remain unable, to fix any definite limits. 

, We farther learn, that a very large proportion of those 
creatures, of the later periods, had become extinct, and 
had been replaced by the ammals which now exist, 


1833.] 


before the creation of our first parents. When that 
great event took place, the crust of the earth had 
already undergone numerous changes, and we have 
already said, in alluding to those changes, that they ap- 
pear to us to afford indisputable proofs of design; to be 
evidences the most clear of the establishment of an order 
of things adapted to the predetermined nature of that 
more perfect creature, about to be sent as an inhabitant 
of the globe, to whom was to be given “ dominion over 
the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over 
the cattle, and over all the earth.” Weare also taught by 
the study of fossils that, prior to the creation of man, 
there had existed a totally different condition of our 
pianet, in so far as rewards the distribution of land and 
water, from that which now exists; that where there are 
now vast continents there must have been deep seas, and 
that extensive tracts of land must have occupied those 
parts of the globe which are now covered by the ocean. 
In many parts of the interior of our continents there 
must have been vast lakes of fresh water, which were 
drained by subsequent changes in the form of the land 
which bounded them, and were replaced by wide valleys, 
long antecedent to the existence ofman. ‘Thus, in the very 
heart of France, in a district along the banks of the river 
Allier, of which the town of Vichy may be taken as the 
centre, vast strata, full of fresh-water shells, prove that 
there must have existed, for many ages, a lake nearly a 
hundred miles long and twenty miles in average breadth. 
It is proved moreover, by the nature of organic remains, 
that changes of CLIMATE, no less remarkable, have taken 
place; and that a heat equal to that now existing in 
the equatorial regions must have formerly prevailed in 
latitudes far north of our island. 

‘Lhe organized bodies which are found in a fossil state 
belong to classes of animals and plants that exist on the 
land, or in lakes and rivers, and to those also which are 
inhabitants of the sea. The latter are by far the most 
numerous, as might be expected would be the case, 
when it is considered that the greater proportion of 
the strata must have been deposited at the bottom cf 
the ocean. Of marine productions, shells and corals 
constitute the chief part, and for this reason, that being 
almost wholly composed of mineral substance, they are 
not liable to decay. In all cases of petrified remains of 
animals it is the hard parts only that we find; the whole 
of the flesh and softer parts have disappeared, so much 
so, that, with the exception of some instances of fishes 
aud amphibious animals, no trace of the external form of 
the living animal can be discovered ; and where bones 
are found it is very rarely that an entire skeleton is met 


with. There are fossil remains of ~ 
Shells. 
Corals and sponges. 
Among Radiated animals, such as Star Fish. 
bodies Reptiles, resembling Crocodiles. 
belonging to ) Fishes. — 
the Sea. Cetacea, or the Whale tribe. 
Crustacea, such as Lobsters and Crabs. 
Plants. 
Fresh-water shells, found in lakes and rivers. 
Land shells, such as the Garden Snail, 
Among Quadrupeds. ~ 
bodies Reptiles. 
Birds. 
the Land. Insects. 


Stems of trees and wood. 
Smaller plants and leaves. 

These several bodies are not found indiscriminately 
throughout the whole series of the secondary and tertiary 
strata (Diagram No. 1); some are peculiar to the lowest 
beds, some to the intermediate, and some to the superior. 
The leading features of that distribution will be after- 
wards explained, But all, of whatever description they 
may be, which occur in the secondary strata, belong to 
species now wholly extinct. By far the greatest pro- 


belonging to 


portion of those found in the tertiary strata belong’ 


likewise to extinct species, At is only in the uppermost 


THE PENNY “MAGAZINE, 


179 


beds that there is any very considerable number of indivi- 
duals which are identical with animals now in existence, 
and there they preponderate over the others. 

The bones of man are not more liable to decay than 
those of other animals; but in no part of the earth to 
which the researches of geologists have extended, has 
there been found a single fragment of bone, belonging to 
the human species, incased in stone, or in any of those 
accumulations of gravel and loose materials which form 
the upper part of the series of the strata. Human bones 
have been occasionally met with in stones formed by 
petrifying processes now going on, and in caves, asso- 
ciated with the bones of other animals; but these are 
deposits possessing characters which prove them to have 
been of recent origin, as compared with even the most 
modern of the tertiary strata. 

The geologist may be considered as the historian of 
events, relating to the animate and inanimate creation, 
previous to that period when sacred history begins, or 
the history of man, in relation to his highest destiny. 
Although it belongs to the geologist to study the events 
that have occurred within his province, during the more 
modern ages of the word, as well as those which are 
in progress in our own day, his especial cbject is to unfold 
the history of those revolutions by which the crust of 
the globe acquired its present form and structure. The 
solid earth, with its stores of organic remains, which 
now rises above the surface of the sea, may be com- 
pared to a vast collection of authentic records, which 
will reveal to man, as soon as he is capable of rightly - 
interpreting them, an unbroken narrative of events, 
commencing from a period indefinitely remote, and which 
in all probability succeeded each other after intervals of 
vast duration. Unlike the records of human trans- 
actions, they are liable to no suspicion that they may 
have been falsified through intention or ignorance. 
In them, we have neither to fear the dishonesty of crafty 
statesmen, nor the blunders of unlettered and wearied 
transcribers. The mummies of Eevpt do not more 
certainly record the existence of a civilized people in 
reinote ages on the banks of the Nile, than do the shells 
entombed in solid stone at the summit of the Alps and 
Pyrenees attest that there was a time when the rocks 
of those mountains occupied the bottom of a sea, whose 
waters were aS warm as those within the tropics, and 
which were peopled by numerous species of anitnals, of 
which there does not now exist one single descendant. 

Some scattered observations, and soine fanciful theories 
founded upon them, show that a few of the philosophers 
of antiquity, and a few among the learned since the 
revival of letters, were not altogether unaware of the 
existence of these arcliives; but it is little more than 
half a century since their true value began to be under- 
stood. ‘The cause of this is easily explained. Geology 
has grown out of the advanced state of other branches of 
knowledge. Until chemistry, mineralogy, botany, and. 
above all zoology, or the natural history and comparative 
anatomy of animals, had arrived at a considerable devree 


of perfection, it was impossible to comprehend the lan- 


guage-in which these records are written. Many of the 
early weologists, and some even in the present day, appear 
indeed to find no difficulty in reading them ; and when they 
meet with a passage which is obscure they cut the knot, 
and reason upon some bold interpretation, which they 
arrive at by conferring upon Nature powers which she 
herself has never revealed to us that she has employed. 
But since the discovery, in recent times by Cuvier and 
others, of a key to the language of these precious docu- 
ments, many have been unrolled; the errors of former 
interpretations have been discovered; and we may now 
entertain a well-grounded hope, that if we cease to guess 
at meanings, and patiently search and compare the ma- 
terials that are accessible to us, we shall arrive at such 
sound conclusions, that geology will be placed on as 


secure a basis as the most exact of the sciences. 
: 2A2 


180 


Figure 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


{May Il, 


THE SMUT OR. DUST-BRAND 
























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[Tasie II.—The Smut or Dust Brand in Barley.] 


. A barley ear, just emerged from its hose, entirely infected with smut; 
natural size. 


2. An infected spiket of the same ear, which was evidently infected before 
the individual florets were developed, and when nothing but a thin mem- 
brane or film (which is bursting in many places) holds the fungi together ; 
magnified four times lineally, or sixteen times superficially. 


v- A transverse section of the base of that spiket, which is entirely filled with 
the fungi, and no traces of the husks or parts of fructification are left ; 
magnified four times lineally, or sixteen times superficially. 


4. A fully developed floret from the top of an infected ear, but which the seeds 
of the fungi reached at a late period and only partially infected; magni- 
fied five times lineal] y, or twenty five times superficially. 


5, A transverse section of the germen of the same floret, at the upper part 
about A, where it is only partially filled with the fungi. 


6, A transverse Section of the same germen, at the lower part B, where it is 
already entirely filled with the fungi; both figures are magnified five 
times lineally, or twenty tive times superficially, 


2. A small portion of the stem or straw of a barley plant, strongly infected 
with smut or dust brand, the fungi multiplying so rapidly that they 


Figure 
burst the epidermis in many places; mnagnified ten timer lineally, or o16 
hundred times superficially. 


8. A longitudinal section of the above portion, to show the destructive effects 
occasioned by these fungi internally; magnified ten times lineally, or 
one-hundred times superficially. 


9. A transverse section of one of the knots or joints of the stalk of a barley 
plant, showing that not only is the stalk or straw infected, but that the 
hose or leaf sheath is likewise so; magnified ten times lineally, or one 
hundred times superficially. 


10. A transverse section of a portion of the stalk of a barley plant, showing how 
the fungi spread and multiply in the cellular substance of the plant; 
mnagnified ten times lineally, or one hundred times superficially. 


ll. <go'coe part of a square inch, on the micrometer, sustaining forty-nine 
ripe fungi of uredo segetum, or smut or dust brand; magnified four 
hundred times lineally, or 160,000 times superficially, showing that not 
less than seven millions eight hundred and forty thousand fungi of uredo 
segetum would be required to cover a square inch, English measure, 

12, A, a fungus of uredo segetum, not quite ripe; B, a perfectly ripe one; and 
C, one in the act of shedding its seeds ; each figure magnified one thou- 
sand times lineally, or J,000,000 times supericially.. 


1833.] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





18] 











[Tasiu [1] —The Smut or Dust Brand in Oats; and the Smut or Dust Brand in Wheat. ] 


Figure 
1. A slightly infected panicle of an oat plant, about three days after emerging 
from its hose, when the infection is rapidly increasing through the whole 
panicle ; natural size, 


2. The parts of fructification of one of the florets, in the uppermost parts of 
the panicle, showing the progressive action andjinfection of the fungi; 
the germen Is already filled, and the pistils and tender filaments are full 
of black dots internally, consisting of small clusters of fungi, which 
multiply so rapidly, that in a very few days they burst and break all the 
membranes and cuticles, and entirely consume all these parts; mag- 
nified five times lineally, or twenty five times superficially. 


3. An infected wheat ear, which was evidently infected, and nearly con- 
sumed, long before it emerged from its hose: after the destruction (of 
the ear the fungi attacked the hose and leaves which are split and 
twisted in various forms, whilst the fungi, appearing first in stripes and 
rows, multiply till the whole leaf and every part of the plant are de- 
stroyed; natural size. 


4. The parts of fructification of a wheat ear, which was evidently attacked 
after the parts of fructification were completely developed: the germen, 
the pistils, the filaments, and anthers are entirely filled with the fungi, 
and ready to burst; magnified five times lineally, or twenty five times 
superficially. 


5. A transverse section of a portion of one of the above anthers, showing that 

three of its cells are already filled with the fungi, but the fourth cell is 

a still filled with the original sound pollea eae magnified twenty-five 
_ times hneally, or six hundred and twenty-five times superficially. 


Tuts disease, like the Smut Balls or Pepper Brand, is 
occasioned by a very minute parasitic fungus, of the 
eenus uredo, which Persoon (in his Synopsis Methodica 
Fungorum) notices as uredo segetum. It is, however, 
of a decidedly different species from wredo fetida, which 
occasions the Smut Balls or Pepper Brand, illustrated 
in my former paper. 

The wredo segetum is distinguished from wuredo 
fetida, not being much more than one half the size 
(see Table IL, figs. 11 and 12), and by being perfectly 
scentless; whilst «redo fetida is characterized by an 
extremely offensive smell. The mamner in which wredo 
segetum acts upon the plants which it attacks is also 
very different, and the effect much more destructive 
than that of wredo fetida, which only attacks the grains 
in which it vegetates, but seldom bursts; whereas the 
wredo segetum not only generally destroys the whole 


182 THE PENNY 
ear, but even the leaves and stem. Further, wredo 
segetum attacks uot only barley, but wheat and oats; 
and I have been informed that other species of graminez 
are subject to its attacks, but I have not yet found any 
such specimens. 

I have ascertained, by repeated experiments of inocu- 
lation, that the seed of the fungi of wredo segetum, like 
that of wredo feetida, is absorbed by the roots of the 
germinating seed-corn, and, being so extremely minute, 
is mixed with and propelled by the circulating sap, and 
deposited in almost every part, even in the cellular tissue 
of the plant (see Table IL., figs. 7, 8, 9, and 19), where 
these seeds continue to vegetate and multiply rapidly, 
as well as in every part of the plant where there remains 
the least vitality. ‘The whole ear is often found entirely 
destroyed many weeks before even the individual florets 
are quite developed, or the sound ears emerge from the 
hose. Sometimes, but rarely, the infection takes place 
after the parts of fructification have been formed, and 
even after fecundation has taken place; in that case the 
progress of the disease can easily be observed. The 
wermen is generally the first attacked, and found par- 
tially, or half filled with the fungi (see Table II., figs. 4, 
5, and 6); then the pistils, the sticmas, the anthers; 
and even the extremely tender filaments appear full of 
black spots (see Table LIL, fig. 4), which are occa- 
sioned by small clusters of these fungi, which vegetate 
and multiply so rapidly that in a few days the whole ear 
is compietely filled. 

In oat-plants such late infection occurs more fre- 
quently than in barley or wheat, and the whole panicle 
often emerges from its hose, to all appearance in a per- 
fectly sound state, or perhaps with only a few infected 
spikets at its base, but the infection soon spreads visibly 
through the whole panicle (see Table III., fie. 1), and 
over every part of the plant; and even when such a 
partially infected ear is separated from the growing 
plant, the vegetation and multiplying of the fungi con- 
tinue as long as any moisture remains in that portion of 
the plant which has been so separated. I once collected 
and cut off several such partially infected ears, which I 
intended to preserve as specimens, and for that. purpose 
I laid them in brown paper to dry them: they were 
accidentally mislaid, and did not come into my hands 
again till after a period of six or seven months ; when, 
orn examination, I found that the whole specimens were 
consumed by the fungi. I have not the least doubt 
that the seeds of the fungi are shaken out by the wind; 
and that even many infected ears and plants are thrown 
on the soil of a field where such diseased plants have 
been growing, and that the fungi continue growing and 
multiplying on the soil, like those on the paper, until 
they become part of the soil, from which they cannot be 
distinguished. 

I fear it will prove very difficult to find an efficient 
remedy to prevent, or even to check this destructive 
disease ; and this fear seems strengthened by the consi- 
deration of the numerous remedies suggested by many 
eminent authors, as well in this country as on the con- 
tinent. That the remedies of these authors should have 
failed in producing the desired effects is not surprising 
to me, for I find that the most eminent of them not only 
confound two or three distinct diseases, but are totally 
unacquainted with the real cause of any of the diseases: 
for some consider them caused by insects; some attri- 
bute them to blasts of the wind; others consider the dis- 
ease to be a corruption of the sap of the plant. ‘These, 
aud-many other causes, equally erroneous, have been ad- 
vanced; but I hope that, if it be admitted that the seeds 
of the parasitical fungi are the real and only cause of 
this disease, it will naturally occur to every one, that if 
the vitality of the seeds of these parasites could effec- 
tually be destroyed, the disease would be prevented. 
That the steeping in lime-water destroys the vitality, I. 


MAGAZINE. [May 11, 
have proved by many experiments; and also that lime- 
water has the same effect upon the seeds of the wredo 
segetum, as it has upon those of wredo fortida. 

I fear that much difficulty will present itself to the 
steeping the seed-corn effectively, from the structure of 
the seed of barley and oats, the kernels of which are so 
tishtly enclosed in the husks, that the lime-water cannot 
so readily penetrate, and reach the embryo, as in the 
naked seed-kernels of wheat and rye; but if some ingeni- 
ous and unprejudiced practical agriculturist would make 
experiments on a-large scale, by which every grain of 
the seed-corn could be effectually steeped in lime-water, 
I have no doubt but that the diseases of the Smmuté or 
Dust Brand, and the Smut Balls or Pepper Brand, 
would be effectually prevented, and perhaps, after re- 
peating the experiments for a few successive years, these 
diseases might be entirely eradicated from the land. 

Kew, March 3, 1833. F. B. 


A GAME AT SKITTLES. 


I was lately walking, on a fine spring evening, in the 
suburbs of a country town. It was that particular period 
of the season when all nature suggests thoughts of hope 
and cheerfulness. ‘The hedge-row elms had scarcely put 
on their new livery of green, and the orchards were just 
sprinkled over with their bunches of opening blossom. 
The first notes of the nightingale and the cuckoo fell on 
the ear as if to say, “ the summer is coming.’ Every 
animate being seemed glad and happy. 

My ramble brought me to a public-house by the road 
side. I was tired, and sat down for a minute’s rest on 
the bench which invited the weary passenger. ‘There 
was a ground adjoining the house, where some me- 
chanics and labourers were engaged in various sports ; 
and as it was imperfectly concealed from the road, I 
saw and heard what was passing. I was quickly dis- 
eusted. Isaw the clenched fist of passion, and I heard 
the fearful oath of desperation. ‘There stood one who 
grinned with a malicious exultation at the angry coun- 
tenance of the opponent that he had beaten; and there 
another, who, while he staked his little all with a frantic 
eaverness upon the chances of the game, was endea- 
vouring to forget the consequences of his folly in quick 
draughts of intoxicating liquor. In one corner of the 
yard sat a patient, and apparently a gentle young woman, 
weeping for the obstinacy of her husband, who refused to 
accoinpany her home; in another, an angry master was 
upbraiding an idle and insolent apprentice, who had been 
seduced from his employ by more hardened companions. 
Such, said I, are the baneful temptations which make 
the industrious lazy, and the sober dissipated; which 
deprive too many working people of their happiness 
and their respectability; which render them discontented 
with the present and forgetful of the future; which cause 
them at once to despise the laws of their country, and 
the commands of their God. ‘There is no safety in that 
place where the demon of gambling shall once enter. ~ 

As I walked hastily out of the yard, my attention was 
arrested by these words, “ My dear boy, if you value your 
father’s blessing, never go into askittle-ground.” This 
was addressed by a decent, middle-aged man, to a little 
boy, about nine years old, who had hold of hishand. A 
respectable looking woman, who was resting on her hus- 
band’s arm, added her own injunction. ‘“ Mind what 
your father says, Jolin, and you will never suffer as he 
has done by a game at skittles.” My curiosity was 
roused: I entered into conversation with the good people. 
I found the man possessed much strong sense, and he 
had evidently bestowed some pains in the acquirement 
of useful knowledge. He was a gardener by trade; 
one of a class of men that L have often observed are 
more sober, thoughtful, and intelligent than the majority 
of artisans, His wife appeared a kind-hearted and affec- 


1833.] 


tionate woman, who loved her family and was contented 
with her lot. Our conversation gradually became more 
free; and at last I ventured to say to the worthy man 
whose name I found was William Johnson, ‘“ And pray 
what evils have you experienced from a game at skittles?” 

As I proposed this question we arrived at a cottage 
Which stood on the side of a small nursery-ground and 
market-garden. ‘Lhe little flower-garden in front of the 
house was laid out with the greatest care; and the tulip 
aud the carnation, yet unblown, but watered and sheltered 
with the most exact attention, showed that the florist’s 
business and enjoyment were in a great degree united. 
he good mian smiled as he invited me to enter his gate ; 
aud his wife placed a chair for me in their comfortable 
parlour, and said, “ There was a time when I could not 
bear to think of the skittle-ground; but William’s old 
inisfortunes now only serve to make us more thankful 
for our present happiness.” 

‘* Fourteen years ago,” said Mr. Johnson, “ I came to 
work as foreman to my wife’s father. This garden and 
house were his property. He was aged and infirm; 
and I endeavoured to discharge my duty, and to recom- 
mend myself to his good opinion, by industry and 
fidelity. te soon left to me the entire charge of his busi- 
ness, and it prospered so under my management, that he 
admitted me into his most perfect confidence. He had 
an only daughter. My occupation in the garden fre- 
quently brought us together; and an attachment was 
quickly formed between us, which the kind old man 
rather encouraged than repressed.” 

““ He was ever an affectionate parent,” said the wife. 

‘“ All went on well for a year. One evening I took 
a wall alone by the road'where you met me. On the 
bench at the public-house, a gardener, who lived in the 
next village, was smoking his pipe. He invited me to 
join him; and in a short time a companion came out of 
the skittle-ground and challenged him to play. I thought 
there would be no harm in looking on. The gardener 
played unskilfully ; and as I had seen something of the 
game when a boy, iny vanity induced me to take up the 
ball to show him how he might have knocked down the 
pins. I accepted a challenge to play; and we played for 
money: I won two shillings. My opponent made me 
promise to give him his revenge the next night. I went 
home late, with a new passion in my breast. 

“The next evening, after my day’s labour, I went to 
the skittle-ground: I lost nearly a week’s wages. and I 
got half intoxicated. ‘The passion for gambling then 
began to haunt me like an evil spirit. I was restless 
and discontented in my business; if I eave my hours 
of leisure to Susan, I was absent and sullen; the affec- 
tionate lessons of the old man were tedious and insup- 
portable. My hours of innocence were gone. I went 
on from bad to worse. When I came to live with my 
Susan's father I possessed fifty pounds; and I had 
hoped to have added it to his stock, and have become 
his partner as well as his son. I drew this out of the 
bank where I had placed it. There were other temp- 
tations besides the skittle-ground. My new companions 
introduced me to public-houses, where, in dark and 
stinking back parlours, there was card-playine and 
dicing. [I still lost my money, for I hated myself, and I 
Was therefore impetuous. The hours of leisure became 
too little for my fatal pursuit. I often went to these 
haunts of infamy at my dinner time; and, like a careless 
and wicked servant, I sometimes stayed through the 
whole afternoon. ‘The garden became neglected ; and my 
good old master’s trade fell off. He had heard of my 
follies, and he told me, with a firmness which nothing 
could shake, that, for the peace of himself and his 
child, we must part. 

“IT had long seen how my fatal passion would ter- 
minate ; but yet I was so besotted that I thought my 
master used me ill. I loved his daughter, though I had 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


183 


treated her unkindly; and I fancied that, if I could re- 
cover back my little property, the objection to our union 
would cease. I went to the town, and Spent all my 
remaining money in the purchase of a lottery ticket. 

‘* The day came on which I was to quit my good old 
master. He would not allow me to see Susan; but 
he wept bitterly as he gave me his hand. I fell at his 
feet, and confessed my errors with a sincere contrition, 
But he would not hear of any proposition that I should 
continue with him. He loved his daughter too well, he 
said, to confide her happiness to a gambler. 

“The day on which I left a place which had been so 
dear to me was the day on which the drawing of the 
lottery was announced. I went to the office. I could 
hardly ask the fate of my ticket; when the clerk said it 
was a blank, I stood like an idiot. I rushed out of the 
town, and passed the night in the fields. The next wicked 
impulse of my mind was to destroy myself; but, God 
be thanked, I struggled with that temptation. Jn the 
morning I recovered a little composure. I prayed most 
fervently for support in better courses, and my prayer was 
heard. 

‘* I wandered on to the nexttown. I saw, from a news- 
paper, that a gentleman wanted a gardener, and I was 
fortunate in procuring the situation. My master was a 
kind-hearted man; for I told him of my folly, and he 
trusted in my penitence. For two years I served this 
good gentleman with diligence and fidelity. I lost not 
an hour; and I shunned all sort of gambling as I 
would the plague. At the end of that time I heard 
that the father of Susan was no more. I hastened to 
assure her of my repentance and my reformation. I had 
saved a little money once again; I threw it into her lap, 
and it enabled her to pay a pressing creditor, for her 
father’s business had been neglected, and he had scarcely 
left money enough to discharge his debts. She had con- 
fidence enough in me to accept this sum as a loan. In 
another year, her prudence did not prevent her affection 
from receiving me as a husband. We married; and the 
world has gone smoothly with us. But I sometimes 
grieve to think how my errors must have embittered the: 
lives of those I loved; and I thank my God, who-did 
not desert me in my extremest temptation. So now 
you see why I cautioned my boy against a ‘ game at 
skittles ! ” 

Such was in substance the story of William Johnson’s 
temptation. His case is not a singular one. There is 
little incident in his narrative; but I have written it 
down in the hope that the example may do good, by 
showing how easily the best disposed may yield to evil, 
auld how resolutely they must struggle with such seduc- 
tions, to prevent them making a total wreck of their 
happiness and respectability. | 





THE CONDOR. 


One of the figures in the following wood-cut represents a 
specimen of-the great vulture of South America, popu- 
larly called the Condor, which is now to be seen in the 
Surrey Zoological Gardens. Although of large dimen- 
sions, the condor of reality is a much smaller bird than 
the condor of fable. One of the great advantages of 
menageries is that of being able with our own eyes to dis- 
tinguish truth from fiction ;—and thus, in the bird before 
us, We See an exceedingly muscular and powerful creature, 
some two or three feet in height, with wings measuring 
from six to eight feet from the tip of one to the tip of the 
other ;—but we cannot here find the bird that is large 
enough and strong enough to carry off a buffalo in his 
claws, aS an eagle would a rabbit. Such stories have, 
however, been told of the condor. Humboldt, the dis- 
tinguished traveller in South America, was the first to 
show the absurdity of these old fabrications. He passed 
seventeen months in the Andes, the native mountaitis of 


184 


the condor; he saw the bird daily; he shot many spe- 
cimens; and he js satisfied that in general their average 
size does not exceed that of the largest European vultures. 

The authentic history of the condor is full of interest. 
The eagle builds “his aery on the mountain top;’ but 
the elevation at which the eagle lives is far inferior to the 
snowy peaks of the Andes, where the condor has _ his 
abiding place. At the extreme limit of vegetation, where 
all other animals perish, the condor prefers to dwell, 
inhaling an atmosphere so highly rarefied that almost 
every other creature would perish in it. From these 
immense elevations this wonderful bird soars still higher 
up, far above the clouds; and thence, with an almost 
unlimited range of sight, he surveys the earth. Scenting 
some carcase upon which he may banquet, he descends 
into the plains; and there he gorges himself with a 


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The condor does’ not exclusively’ feed upon dead or 
putrefying flesh; he attacks and destroys deer, vicunas, 
and other middling-sized .or small quadrupeds. It is 
said, also,.to,be very common to see the cattle of the 
Indians, on the Andes, suffering from the severe wounds 
inflicted by these rapacious birds. It does not appear 
that they have ever attacked the human race. When 
Humboldt, accompanied by his friend Bonpland, was 
collecting plants near the limits of perpetual snow, 
they were daily in company with several condors which 
would suffer themselves to be quite closely approached 
without exhibiting signs of alarm, though they never 
showed any disposition to act offensively. They. were 
not accused by the Indians of ever carrying off children, 
though frequent opportunities were presented, had they 
been so disposed. Humboldt. believes that no authen- 
ticated case can be produced, in which the lammergeyer 
(or bearded vulture) of the Alps ever carried off a 
child, though so currently accused of such theft; but 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





— ... .. [The Condor. From a living specimen.] °° 


‘KI Nir = 
7a Ne 


[May 11, 1833. 


voracity almost without example. Captain Head, in his 
‘Rough Notes,’ has given an example of this habit of 
the condor :—“ In riding along the plain I passed a dead 
horse, about which were forty or fifty condors: many of 
them were gorged and unable. to fly; several were 
standing on the ground devouring the carcase—the rest — 
hovering above it. I rode within twenty yards of them: 
one of the largest of the birds was standing with one 
foot on the ground and the other on the horse’s body.” 
He adds that one of his party had also ridden up to the 
dead horse: and as one of these enormous birds flew 
about fifty yards off, and was unable to go any farther, he 
rode up to him, and then, jumping off his horse, seized 
him by the neck. ‘The man, who was a Cornish miner, 
said he had never had such a battle in his life, although 
he was at last the conqueror. - 


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that the possibility of the evil. has led to the belief of 
its actual existence. : ay 
_ The condor is not known to build a nest, but is said to 
deposit its eggs on the naked rocks. When hatched, the 
female is’said to remain with the young for a whole year 
in order to provide them with food, and to teach them.to 
supply themselves. In relation to all these points, satis- 
factory information still remains to be procured. 

Humboldt saw the condor only in new Grenada, Quito, 
and Peru; but was informed that it follows the chain of 
the Andes, from the equator to the 7th degree of north 
latitude, into the province of Antioquia. ‘There is now no 
doubt, says the Encyclopsedia Americana, of its appear- 
ing even in Mexico, and the south-western territory of 
the United States. . | i , 

59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 


Printed by WILLIAM CLowes, Stamford Street, ye oe 


, 


THE PENNY 





: AGAZIN E 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful tear ai. 





72.1] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[May 18, 1833. 





THE BAR-GATE AT SOUTHAMPTON, 


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[North Front of Southampton Gate. } 


Tue curious relic of ancient architecture represented in 
the above cut, crosses the principal street of tne town 
of Southampton, called the High-street, or English- 
street, at the point where the town is considered to ter- 
minate, and the suburbs to commence. It 3s, in fact, 
one of the gates of the wall by which the town was for- 
merly surrounded, and considerable portions of which 
are still standing, while the line can be distinctly traced 
throughout its whole extent. Of several gates, how- 
Vou, II. 


ever, by which these encompassing fortifications were 
anciently adorned, the Bar-gate is, we believe, the only 
one that now remains. - — 

Among the Saxons what we now ‘call a gate was 
commonly called a bar, the term gate being used to 
describe the street or road itself, as it still is in Scotland. 
Of the old application of the word bar we have instances 
in Temple Bar, Holborn Bar, and Smithfield Bar, or 
Bars,in London. ‘The Bar-gate, the name by which the 

2B 


186 


structure at: Southampton is commonly known, seems to 
be a corruption which had arisen from the continued use 
of the term bar, after its original meaning had been 
forgotten. 

The town of Southampton is built on an elevated 
gravelly piece of eround, lying at the head or northern 
extremity of the bay, called the Southampton Water, 
bein flariked on the one side by the river Jtchin, and 
on the other by the Test or Anton, which fall severally 
into the north-east and the north-west corners of the 
bay. ‘The most conspicuous object which the town pre- 
sents, when viewed from a distance, is a modern building, 
which has been erected over the site of the keep of the 
old castle.- The town, which no doubt took its origin 
from the castle, appears to have sprung up in the Saxon 
times. The earliest mention of it is in the Saxon Chro- 
nicle, under the year 873. Some three or four centuries 
ago it was a place of great opulence and importance, 
sustained by an active trade, principally in wine, with 
France and Portugal. Since the commencement of the 
seventeenth century, however, its commercial conse- 
quence has much decayed; but it is still a large and 
flourishing town, containing, according to the late 
census, not much under twenty thousand inhabitants, of 
which number considerably more than a third part had 
accrued in the course of the preceding ten years. Its 
situation, overlooking the sea tu the south, and a very 
rich country, abounding in water and woodland scenery. 
in all other directions, is one of great beauty. 

High-street or English-street runs nearly due south 
and north, and is in all about three quarters of a mile in 
leneth, of which two-thirds are beiow or to the south of 
the Bar-gate. The remaining portion is called High- 
street above Bar. Leland the antiquary, in the middle 
of the sixteenth century, describes this as one of the fairest 
streets in England; and its length, straightness, and 
spaciousness, together with the character of its buildings, 
still entitle it to that encomium. But its proudest orna- 
ment is the imposing structure already noticed. The 
most ancient part of the Bar-gate consists of a massive 
semicircular arch, which is uydoubtedly to be referred to 
the early Norman, if not to the Saxon times. Beyond 
chis, on the north side, has been subsequently erected a 
nich and pointed arch, richly adorned with mouldings. 
The whole of this front now forms a sort of semi-octagon 
“or the half of an eight-sided figure), terminated at each 
~ tremity by a semicircular tower. ach of these towers 
has been perforated in modern times’ by a doorway 
crossing the foot-path at the side of the street ; but 
anciently they seem to have had lateral entrances (which 
are now built up) from under the arch. ‘The south front, 
or that which lcoks to the town, appears to be in a more 
modern style of architecture than any other part of the 
gate. ‘The structure indeed has undergone alterations 
at different times in almost every part ; and some of the 
decorations which have been added to it are far from 
being in the best taste. The ancient battlements, how- 
ever, by which the whole is crowned, have escaped 
such innovation and disfigurement; and their aspect 
is remarkably majestic and venerable. The part of 
the building immediately over the arch is occupied by 
the town-hall, which is a room 52 feet in length by 21 
in breadth ; and over this are spacious leads, from which 
there is an extensive view of the town and the surround- 
ng country. 

Among other decorations on the north front of the 
mate, are two figures, said by tradition to represent the 
famous hero of Romance, Sir Bevis of Hampton, and 
the giant Ascapard, whom he slew in single combat. 
The readec may recollect an allusion to Ascapard, or 
Ascabart, as he is there called, in the first canto of Scott's 
Lady of the Lake, which the author has illustrated by 
a quotation from an ancient manuscript copy of the 
‘ Romance of Sir Bevis.’ The following is the mo- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 18, 


dernized version of the same passage, which is given 
by Ellis, in his Specimens of the Early Romances :— 


‘ This giant was mighty and strong, 
And full thirty feet was long. 
He was bristled like a sow ; 
A foot he had between each brow; 
His lips were great and hung aside; 
His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide . . 
Lothly he was to look on than, 
And liker a devil than a man: | 
His staff was a young oak,— 
Hard and heavy was his stroke.” 


Of Sir Bevis there are other memorials at Southamp- 
ton besides the figure on the Bar-gate; especially an 
artificial elevation, called Bevis Mount, which seems 
anciently to have been fortified. 





OLD TRAVELLERS. 
ROBERT KNOX. 


Ir may not be unentertaining or uninstructive to turn 
our attention, from time to time, to the lives and 
adventures of old voyagers and travellers. Many of 
these men were the first to find their way to remote 
regions of the earth, and most of them may be said to 
have added something to our knowledge of the globe 
we inhabit, and of our fellow-creatures. Though the 
accounts published of the distant wanderings of these 
adventurous individuals were generally received with 
ready belief-and admiration at the times when they ap- 
peared, yet they became subject to the doubts, and 
even derision, of a more sceptical age. The extensive 
discoveries and enterprising voyages by land and sea of 
our own days have, however, relieved the old writers of 
travels from a great part of the odium which oppressed 
them, and have rendered them again objects of interest 
and admiration, by showing that they are correct in the 
main, and generally to be depended upon when they 
describe what they saw themselves, and not what was 
related to them by others. 

One of the circumstances which ought particularly to 
recommend these old travellers to the notice of our 
readers is, that they were for the most part men of hum- 
ble conditions in life—seamen, soldiers, traders, &c.— 
whose want of education was made up by attentive 
observation, and by cultivating those perceptive faculties 
which we are all pretty equally endowed with. By the 
use of their own eyes, and the lights of their reason, 
these men have in many instances left us the most impres- 
sive though simple pictures of nature. ‘Their descrip- 
tioas have a force and freshness differing from, but 
indeed far superior to, any thing of the sort produced by 
what were called the learned men of their days, whose 
minds were filled with systems and theories, and who 
had most of them a love of giving hard names to things, 
instead of investigating the things themselves. 

There is no lesson more valuable than a plain expo- 
sition of the modes in which -these old travellers strug- 
oled against misfortuné and privations of all sorts, and 
exerted the best energies of man, even when their cir- 
cumstances seemed “ past hope, past cure, past help.” 
There is not perhaps in their whole body an individual 
who underwent more remarkable trials in this way, or 
more distinguished himself by those valuable descrip- 
tions we have just alluded to, than Robert Knox, the 
author of an Historical relation of the Island of Ceylon, 
in the East Indies. ‘This book was lately cited as an 
authority in the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia,’ under the head of 
‘ Adam’s Peak,’ a remarkable mountain in the centre of 
Ceylon. 

Robert Knox, a youth of nineteen, embarked at 
London in the year 1657, with his father, who com- 
manded a ship in the East-India Company’s service. 
The object of the voyage was to reach the coast of 
Coromandel, and to trade one year from port to port in 


1833.] 


India. This was fulfied with success; but as the ship 
was about to return to England she lost her main-mast, 
on which the captain put into the commodious port of 
Cotiar, in the island of Ceylon. 

At this time Ceylon was in possession of the Cinga- 
lese, or natives, and of the Dutch, who had driven out 
the Portuguese, the first European settlers, and whi 
were excessively jealous of all other Europeans, lest 
they in their turn should be expelled—as they finally 
were by the arms of Great Britain. The Dutch were 
in possession of the best part of the coasts of the island, 
aud as their unfriendly feelings were well known, Robert 
Kuox’s father had avoided their dominion. The Cin- 
aalese were masters of all the interior of Ceylon, and of 
some places on the coast not fortified by the Dutch; 
among which was the port of Cotiar, whither the English 
captain had repaired, without sufficient knowledge of 
the singular character of that people, or rather of their 
government. 

On the first arrival of the English they were cour- 
teously received; but as soon as the King of the Cin- 
galese (who had already had enough of European 
intruders) heard of the event, he determined to entrap 
them, and, if possible, to make them all lus captives for 
life. A Dissauva, or general, who was sent with some 
troops down to Cotiar, succeeded with treacherous arti- 
fice in entrapping Robert, the subject of this sketch, 
with another man, and then Robert’s father, and seven 
of the ship’s crew. The day after the capture of the 
commander, the long-boat’s crew, without any suspicion 
that he was detained otherwise than as a friendly guest, 
went on shore to cut wood: they also were suddenly 
seized. The crafty Cingalese had now the only two 
boats that belonged to the ship, and eighteen English- 
men in their power. ‘The ship itself, with all it con- 
tained, was saved from their hands only by the captain’s 
heroic devotion to his duty. Under pretence of ordering 
his mate to quit the safe open bay of Cotiar, and bring 
the ship up a narrow river that flows into it, where she 
mizht easily have been taken by force, he had sent 
orders to those on board to remain where they were, to 
keep the euns loaded, and the ship ready to sail, whether he 
might escape or not. Some days after this the Cingalese 
general seeing that the supposed instructions were not 
obeyed, complained in an angry manner to Robert's 
father, who replied, that the seamen would not obey his 
orders, because he was kept as a prisoner away from 
them. ‘The captain’s attempt to obtain his own liberty 
was ineffectual; but the Dissauva allowed Robert to 
return to the ship, to repeat, as the Cingalese supposed, 
the instructions that it should be brought up the river. 

Robert Knox was now a free man, on board a stout 
ship, where danger from the Cingalese could not reach 
him. He knew not what fate awaited him from a semi- 
barbarous people, irritated by disappointment, should he 
return to shore; he had already tasted the bitter cup 
of captivity, but his father was a prisoner, and he 
would not abandon him. ‘“ He charged me,’ says he, 
“upon his blessing, and as I should answer it at the 
ereat day, not to leave him in this condition, but to 
return to him again; upon which I solemnly vowed, 
according to my duty, to be his obedient son.’’ As 
soon therefore as he had impressed on the chief-mate on 
board the necessity of being vigilant, and ready at every 
moment to sail, and had arranged an answer, in the 
name of the ship’s company, to the Dissauva, stating, 
“that they would not obey the captain, nor any other in 
this matter, but were resolved to stand upon their own 
defence,” he went on shore alone, and returned to his 
father and to captivity, “in the hands of the heathen.” 

The Dissauva losing all hopes of becoming master of 
the ship, now permitted Robert and his father to send 
off to her for such things as they stood in need of, 
flattering them that his king would soon send an order 
to release all his prisoners. After two months of that 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


187° 


hope “ deferred” which “ maketh the heart sick,” Ro- 
bert’s father, concluding he was only played with, and 
anxious for the interests of those he served, ordered the 
mate to wait no longer for him, but to sail immediately. 
The vessel then weigned anchor, and stood away for the 
continent of India, leaving behind at Ceylon, in a most 
melancholy state of abandonment, Robert Knox, his 
father, and fourteen other individuals. ‘The two sailors 
who were sent with the first message to the ship, of 
course remained on board, and escaped. 

When the Cingalese King learned that the ship had 
sailed, the English prisoners were left at a short distance 
from the sea-coast, the task of supporting and guarding 
thein being abandoned to the charge of such natives as 
resided on the spot. Precautions were taken, however, to 
keep the crew of the long-boat separate from the rest of 
the captives. A fond hope which Robert and those with 
him entertained of being able to make a hazardons escape, 
by seizing a small Arab ship that had been taken by the 
Cingalese and lay in the river, was frustrated by orders to 
distribute the English prisoners in different towns or 
villages, and not allow them to communicate with each 
other. ‘ Yet God was so merciful,” says Robert, whose 
filial -affection never forsook him, “as not to suffer them 
to part my father and I.” 

All hope of ever again seeing their friends and their 
native country, gave way to despair; whien, sixteen days 
after this, another order came to remove thein into the 
interior of the island. On this occasion Robert's party 
was joined by the long-boat’s crew. “ It was,” he says, “a 
heavy meeting; being then, as we well saw, to be carried 
captives into the mountains: that night we all supped 
tovether.’ The next morning they began their journey 
towards Kandy, the capital of the king whose prisoners 
they were, escorted by Cingalese troops. 

Their way lay thrcugh a country almost entirely 
covered with immense forests, and destitute of inhabitants. 
“For four or five nights they lay on the ground, with 
boughs of trees only over their heads.” This would 
have been no great hardship in that warm climate had it 
not exposed them to wild beasts, venomous reptiles, and 
the still more terrible jungie-fever. ‘They seem, however, 
to have been pretty well supplied with provisions by the 
inhabitants of the scattered villages through which they 
passed, who had never before heard of Englishmen. 

When within a few miles of the capital, another mes- 
save came from the king, commanding the sailors to be 
again separated and placed one in a village, that their 
support might fall the easier on the people, who alone 
were charged with it. Robert, his father, and two other 
men, were, however, left together in one place near to 
Kandy, as they were the most important of the captives, 
whom, it was expected, the king would summon to his 
court. But as two months passed without any such 
summons “ the great men” determined to break up this 
party of four, and billet them, one by one, like the sailors, 
in distinct and distant villages. Robert, to his great hap- 
pimess, again prevailed with the Cingalese, that they 
would not separate the son from his father, and some 
time after they were removed together toa pleasantly 
situated village, about thirty miles to the north of Kandy. 
Here their lodging was ‘‘an open house, having only a 
roof, but no walls.’? His father was accommodated with a 
sort of bedstead to sleep upon; but Robert had only a 
mat spread upon the ground. | 

Though this place was pleasant to the eye, it was like 
so many other beautiful spots in India, pernicious to the 
health. Even the inhabitants of the place who were 
natives, and as such less liable to the endemic fevers, 
were nearly all sick wnen the Knoxes came among them, 
and many died. 

Amidst the mortality of the natives, it was not likely 
strangers should escape. Both Robert and his father 
caught the fever, and lay for some time helpless, and, as 
it were, on the threshold of the grave. The old man’s 

252 


188 


fever did not sast long, but grief and despair preyed upon 
his constitution, sadly weakened by the attack it had 
sustained. He lay for three months almost motionless 
on his rude couch, having nothing between him and the 
boards but a Cingalese mat, and a piece of carpet whicli 
he sat upon in the boat when he came ashore ;—a small 
quilt was his only covering. -As for Robert he had no 
other covering than’ the ‘clothes on his back ; “but when 
T was cold,” says he, with touching simplicity, “or that 


my ague came upon me, I’ used Y make a fire, wood | he resorted to more active ‘amusements. 


costing nothing but the fetching.” 

The most frequent and most passionate regret of the 
despairing: father’ was, that. .he had induced pie son to 
share his captivity. ‘ “ What have I done w hen I char ced 
you to come ashore to me ag’ ovain,” he used to say; “ your 
dutifulness to me hath’ brought you to be a captive. I 

am old and cannot Jong hold’ out, but you may live to 
see many days: of sorrow, if the mercy of ‘(God do not 
prevent it.”’ ' The sense of his condition once struck the 
old sailor with ‘such an agony and strong passion of 
crief,’ that for nine days he would take nothing but 
cold water. Yet in the depth of his despair, and ‘when 
“consumed. to an anatomy, having ‘nothing left but 
skin to cover his bonies,”. he would often say, ‘S that the 
very sound of liberty would so revive him that 7é would 
put strength into his limbs 1” 

On the evening’ of. the 9th of February he felt death 
was at hand, and said that its approach was delicious. 
He called Robert, who was scarcely able to crawl at the | 
time, to his bedside; he spoke tenderly of his other son 
and of his ‘ daughter in England, gave Robert good 
advice and his paternal blessing .—he regretted again 
that he had been made 4. prisoner through: him, ~but 
said, ‘ Yet it was a great comfort to him to have his own 
son by his death- bed, and by his hands to be buried, 
whereas otherwise he could expect no other but to be eaten 
by dogs or wild beasts.” He then calmly gave instructions 
about his burial.’ After this he fell into a quiet slumber. 
“Tt was about eight, or nine O’clock in the evening, and 
about two or three in the morning he gave up the ehost, 
February 9, 1661, being very sensible unto the very 
instant of his departure.” 

This exemplary son; who had now to perform his last 
sad duties to his parent, was sick and weak, and, as he 
thought, “ready to follow ‘after him.” They had been 
allowed to retain a black servant-boy brought in the ship 
from the coast of Coromandel, and: who was with the 
elder Knox when he was’ made prisoner; but this 
fellow on finding himself among people of his own com- 
plexion, and- that his masters were too weak to enforce 
obedience, would do little or nothing for them. Robert, 
however, now induced the lad to go to his Cingalese 
neighbours and entreat them for help to carry his father 
to the grave. Some of the natives came to him, “ but,” 
says Robert, “they brought forth a great rope they used 
to tie their cattle withal, therewith to drag him by the 
neck into the woods, saying, ‘ they could afford no 
other help, unless I would pay for it.” The mere idea 
of treating the remains of his father so irreverently 
crieved Bim much. “ Neither,’ continues he, ‘“ could I 
with the boy alone do what was necessary for his burial, 
though we had been able to carry the corpse, having not 
wherewithal to dig a grave, and the ground very dry 
and hard. Yet it was some comfort to me that I had 
so much ability as to hire one to help; which at first I 
would not have spared to have done, had I known their 
meaning,” lis “ ability,” or money, consisted only in 
one pagoda and two or three dollars, which his father 
had with him when he was treacherously made prisoner 
by the Cingalese.’ “* By this means,” he continues, “ I 
thank God, In so decent a manner as our. present con- 
dition would permit, I laid my father’s body in the 
grave, most of which I digged with my own hands; 
the place being in a wood, on the north side of a corn- 
field, where heretofore we had used often to walk together. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


~ beraii to keep hogs and hens; 


[May 18, 


* %* * And thus was I Jeft alone, desolate, sick, and 
in captivity, having no earthly comforter.” 

Though in this melancholy extremity, Robert's strength 
of mind never wholly forsook him.. On the days when 
he was ice. from the agtie or the cold fit of his obstinate 
fever, it was ‘his ar after dinner: to take one of his 
books and go into the fields and sit under ’ a tree, reading 
and meditating until evening 3 and when his fever wholly 
left him (which it did after ‘sixteen months of suffering’) 
The principal 
of these was angling for small fish in. the brooks ; and 
this was not only 4 recreation but of sélid use to him, as 
the natives, reduced to hard shifts themselves, could often 
give him nothing but rice, and’ that in insufficient 
quantities. About this time, also, his mental resources 
and comforts were .increased by the acquisition of an 
English bible, which an old Cingalese had picked up at 
the town of Colombo on the coast. Poor Robert in his 
eagerness would have given the’ last coin of his little 
stock of money for this book, but the old man was 
satisfied with a cotton cap. wo 

It was not until ‘a year after his father’ s death that he 
sot sight of any of his countrymen ‘and fellow-prisoners. 
At the end of that time John Gregory with great difficulty 
obtained leave to go andsee him. “This meeting may well 
be supposed to have been affecting ; ‘and Robert Knox had 
the consolation of learning that the sailors were lot only 
all alive but well, (having been placed’ in more healthy: 
parts of the island;) and permitted even to meet together 
atone ‘town inthe district of Hotteracourly, about the 
distance of a day's journey ‘from Robert’s station. After 
some time and’ ‘many earnest entreaties (lor Robert, as 
being the prisoner, of greatest consequence, was most 
jealously guarded) he was permitted to, ‘return John 
Gregory's visit. ' “ Beng arrived,” says “he, “at the 
nearest ‘Englishman's: house, ‘I was joyfully received, and 
the next day he went and called some of the rest of our 
countrymen that were near, so that there were some seven 
or eight of us met: ‘together... * *° * ‘They were now. 
no more like the prisoners I had left-them, but were becoine 
housekeepers: and: knitters of : caps,” and had changed 
their habits from breeches to clouts, like ‘the Chingulays. 
They entertained me with very good cheer in their houses, 
beyond what I did expect.” 

‘Robert profited by: this. visit; and leddined from the 
sailors the art of knitting caps, for which there seems to 
have been a ready market among the Cingulese. After 
prolonging /his visit to three days -he returned to his old 
quarters near his father’s grave. On arriving there he 
immediately set_ to’ work onthe ‘simple manufacture 
of caps; for his money was nearly all gone, and he 
wanted the means to purchase some garments, as his 
clothes were worn out. He could now enforce obedience 
from his Indian servant-boy who also had become “ well 
skilled in knitting.” 

By this time Robert had acquired the language of the 
country, so that he could explain his wants, and trade 
and barter with the natives to advantage. 

Cheered by all this prosperity he determined to build 
him a new and better house, and this he did in ‘a 
garden of coker-nut trees belonging unto the king, a 
pleasant situation.” 

“ Being settled in my new house,” he gontinues 
which, by God’s 
blessing, thrived very ‘well with me, and were a great 
help unto me. I had also a great benefit by living in 
this garden. For all the coker-nuts that fell down they 
gave me, which afforded me oil to burn in the lamp, 
and also to fry my meal in. Which oil, being new, is 
but little inferior to this country” s butter.”’ 

All these improvements in his circumstances, however, 
never detached Robert Knox’s thoughts and affections 
from his native land, to which he was determined to 
attempt to escape, though he would await the favourable 
opportunity with pruden. patience. 

* | To be continued. } 


1833.) THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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‘Tue above wood-cut is a’ representation of one of the 
most extraordinary scenes of natural magnificence in 
‘England, Whitaker, in his History of the Deanery of 
Craven, informs us that Dr. Pococke, the late Bishop of 
Meath, the celebrated traveller, “ who had seen all that 
was great and striking in the rocks of Arabia and India, 
declared that he had never seen any thing comparable 
to this place.” It lies in the West Riding of Yorkshire. 
~The country for many miles around the spot is singularly 
wild. Jn the hollow formed by the meeting of two valleys 
lies the villave of Malham (pronounced Maum), form- 
ing part of the parish of Kirkby. The village is rural 
and sequestered, and, except that there is but little wood, 
presents an aspect of cultivation and fertility, forming a 
contrast with the savage desolation in the midst of which 
it is placed. In the uplands, to the north of the village, 
lies a sheet of water of abont a mile in circumference, 
called Malham Tarn: its banks a bleak waste, but cele- 
_ brated for its excellent perch and trout. Tarn means a 
small lake, and, according to Wordsworth, is mostly 
applied to such as are high up in the mountains. At 


ol a eS 
the further termination’ of the valley which stretches to 


the west of the village, is a noble natural monument, an 
immense unbroken barricade of limestone, stretching 
across the chasm, aiid rising into the air to the height of 
three hundred feet. The loftiness and long sweep of 
this prodigious rampart make it impressive beyond all 
description. It is known by the name of Malham Cove. 
But the scene to which our present notice refers lies 


about a mile east from this, at the extremity of the oppo- 


site valley. The proper source of the river Air, or Are, 
which flows in a line nearly parallel to the more cele- 
brated siream of the Wharf, from which it is divided by. 
a mountainous range, till they both fall into the Hum- 
ber, is Malham Tarn, already mentioned. ‘The ontlet, 
or one of the outlets, of this lake, after flowing tranquilly 
for a short distance, encounters the stupendous rocky 
pile of the Goredale; and here its waters used to be 
detained, without power to make their way either through 
or over the barrier. It appears to be just about a century 
avo since the obstacle was first overcome. In a very 
admirable plate of the cascade, engraved by J. Mason, 
from a drawing by ‘I’. Smith, and published in 1751, it 


‘is stated that “ the water collected in a sudden thunder- 


190 


shower, about eighteen years ago, burst a passage through 
the rock (where it first appears tumbling through a kind 
of an arch), and rushed with such violence that it filled 
the valley below with vast pieces of broken rocks and 
stones for a quarter of a mile below.” Gray, the poet, 
who visited the spot on the 13th of October, 1769, gives, 
in a letter to Dr. Warton, the following deseription of it, 
part of which has been sometimes copied without ac- 
knowledement by succeeding writers, . especially by a 
Mr. Thomas Hurtley, who, in 1776, published a ‘ Con- 
cise Account of the Natural Curiosities in the Environs 
of Malham. ‘ From thence” (the village of Malham), 
says Gray, “ I was to walk a mile over yery rough 
pround, a torrent rattling along on the left hand; on 
the cliffs above hung a few goats; one of them danced, 
aud scratched an ear wilh its hind foot in a place 
where I would not have stood stock-still 


‘For all Beneath the moon.’ 


As I advanced-the crags seemed to close in, but disco- 
vered a narrow entrance turning to the left between 
them. I followed my @uide a few paces, and the hills 
opened again into no large space; and-then all further 
Way is barred by a stream, that, at the height of about 
fifty feet, gushes from a hole in the rock, and spreading: 
in large sheets over its broken front, dashes from steep 
to steep, and then ripples away in a torrent down the 
valley; the rock on the left rises- perpendicular, with 
stubbed yew-trees and shrubs staring from its sidé, to 
the height of at least three hundred feet ; but these are 
not the thing; it is the rock on the rig ht, under which 
you stand to see the fall, that forms the principal horror 
of the place. From its very base it begins to slope for- 
wards over you in one block'or solid mass, without any 
crevice in its surface, and: overshadows’ half the area 
below with its dreadful canopy: when I stood at (I 
believe) four yards distance from its foot, the drops, 
which perpetually distil from its brow, fell on my head ; 
aud in one part of its top, more exposed to the weather, 
there are loose stones that hang in air, and threaten 
visibly some idle spectator with instant destruction. It 
is safer to shelter yourself close to its bottom, and trust 
to the mercy of that. enormous mass which nothing but 
am earthquake can stir. 
well suited the savage aspect of the place, and made it 
still more formidable, I stayed there, not without shud- 
dering, a quarter of an hour, and thought my trouble 
richly paid; for the impression will last for life. At the 
alehouse where I dined in Malham, Vivares, the land- 
scape-painter, had lodged for a week or more; Smith 
and Bellers had also been there, and two prints of Gore- 
dale have been engraved by them.” 

Our cut is taken from’ an original sketch. 


There 


is a print of the same scene in Whitaker's History of 


the Deanery of Craven; and another in Mr. Hurtley’s 
book, engraved by W. Skelton, from a drawing by 
A. Devis. According to this writer, the arch “from 
which the water isles is 150 feet above the ground. 
The summit of the right-hand rock, he says, “is 240 feet 
from its base, which it overhangs by about 20 yards. 
In Smith’s print it seems to incline at an angle of about 
45 degrees. Above the visible top of this cliff there are, 
according to Hurtley, three other rows of receding 
rocks, fronting a similar pile on the opposite side, 
between which. if a line were drawn across, its height 
above the rivulet would exceed 900 feet. If this ac- 
count be correct, the view above the cascade is probably 
as magnificent as that from below. 

The goats, according to Whitaker, which used to be 
seen by, the shuddering visitor browsing on: the points of 
this airy precipice, fae been for some time banished. 
It was probably found that they destroy ed the yew-trees 
and other green plants. The region above, however, 
still more utterly inaccessible to man, is still, we pre- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The gloomy uncomfortable day 





(Miy 18, 


suine, the haunt of the ravens and eagles, whose 
screams, mingling with the dash of the waters, have 
been described as heightening so greatly the terrific 
dreariness of the scene. 


SIMPLIFICATIONS OF ARITHMETICAL RULES. 
No. 5. 


WE now intend to show how to find the eircumnference 
of a circle, of which we know the diameter; or, in com- 
mon language, knowing the greatest width across of:-a 
perfectly round space, (o find how far it is ‘round. We 
may premise, that if one circle be twice or three times 
as widé a8 another, it is twice or three times as long 
round: thus, if one circle be 10 feet in width, in whieh 
case it will be about 314 feet round, a second circle of 20 
feet wide will be twice 314 feet, or 63 feet round, nearly, 
In thé following rule wé have two. processes: the first 
finds the answer nearly ; ; the second corrects the answer 
first found, and gives a result considerably nearer the 
truth. The two together are sufficient for any practical 
purpose. 

Previously to giving the rule, we will slow those who 
do not understand decimal fractions, how ‘to defer all 
fractions to the end of the process. If we want to find 
the circumference of a circle whose diametet is 18 feet, 
we cannot do this very exactly without fractions. But 
if we take a circle of 18,000 feet in diameter, we may 
safely avoid fractions; because a whole foot is only the 
eighteen thousandth part of our new diameter, whereas 
it would have been as much as the eighteenth part of 
our former one. And the second diameter being 1000 
times too great, the circumference obtained will also be 
1000 times too great; that is, the thousandth part of 
the result is the thing we want. The practical rule is: 
annex ciphers to the given diameter until'there are at 
least five places of figures in it. 

We have a wide of 586 feet in diameter, of which 
we wish to know the circumference. Annex two ciphers, 
or multiply by 100, which gives 58600. Multiply by 11 
and by 2; and divide by 7; as follows:— | 


58600 

i] 
644600 

7) 1289200 


184171 rem. 3; Which neglect. 


Cut off éwo places, and our first answer is 1841 feet 
and +41. of a foot, which is not far from the truth. So 
far the process is the one which would have been fol- 
lowed by Archimedes. ‘To bring this nearer the truth, 
first write down the number just obtained, 


184171. 


Multiply this by 4, beginning at the fourth figure from 
the right, which in this case happens to be 4. Do not 
put down the units from this figure, but only carry the 
tens, that is, the nearest ten. Thus, 4 times 4 is 16, 
the nearest ten is two tens, or 20; carry two. Four 
times 8 is 32, and 2 is 34; and so on. Subtract the 
product just obtained from the preceding, as follows :— 


18417] 
74 


2. gee 


184097 


Cut Oke two places as before, and the result is 1840 feet 
and 9%, of a foot. This is within +), of a foot of 
the truth, 

As another example, what is the circumference of the 
circle whose diameter is 33215 yards? 


33215 
ii 


ment 6 es 


365365 
2 


= 6 


7)730730 


104390 
42 


ney ee 


104348 


No ciphers were annexed, hence the circumference is 
104348 yards nearly. ‘This is within a yard of the 
truth; that is, the error is not as much as one part out 
of one hundred thousand of the whole. 

For the reverse rule, to find the diameter when we 
know the circumference, proceed as follows :—If there 
be not five places of figures, annex ciphers to make up 
five places; multiply by 4, beginning from the fourth 
place (as was done just now), but add instead of sub- 
tracting ; multiply the result by 7, and divide by 11 
and by 2. For example: a circle is 1043 feet round ; 
what is its diameter? Annex one cipher to make up 
five places, giving 10430; multiply by 4, beginning at 
the fourth figure (0) from the right, but only using this 
to carry from, which gives simply 4. The rest of the pro- 
cess needs no explanation, and the whole is as follows :— 


iit add. 


10434 

ae 

11)73038 

2)6640 

3320 

As we annexed one cipher, cut off one place from this, 

which gives 332 feet, which is within +4, of a foot of the 
truth, or within about =~, part of the whole. 


As another example, what is the diameter of the 
circle whose circumference is 47903 miles ? 


47903 add. 





most nearly. See No. 4. 


® 


11)335454 
2)30496 


15248 


As no ciphers were annexed, the answer is 15248 miles. 

This 1s within much less than a mile of the truth. , 
To find theszrea of a circle, or the number of square 

feet or miles, &c. as the case may be, which are con- 





most nearly 


tained within its circumference, multiply the diameter by 


itself, and divide by 4, or multiply half the diameter by 
itself, Proceed with this result exactly as in the first of 
the two rules already given. For example: how many 
Square inches are there in the circle whose diameter is 
34 inches? ‘The half of 34 is 17, which, multiplied by 


itself, gives 289. The process is as follows :— 


28900 
11 


en Ca eww eee 


317900 
2 


7)635800 


“90829 
36 


ements PE 


90793 


Two ciphers were annexed, and the answer is 907 
square Inches, and 93, of a square inch, very nearly. 


most nearly. 
subtract.’ ’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


191 


LINNEUS. 
Tue 23d of May is the birth-day of the celebrated Charles 


von Linne, or Linneus, as he is gencrally called in this 
country, the prince of modern botanists. Ve was born, 
as he himself informs us, at the small village of Rashult, 
in the parish of Stenbrohult, in the province of Smaland, 
Sweden, in the year 1707. His ancestors were humble 
peasants ; but his father, after struggling through many 
difficulties, had qualified himself to enter the church, and 
at the time of the birth of Charles, who was his eldest 
child, held the cure of the parish of Stenbrohult. He 
was very fond of botany, ald had a large collection of 
rare and foreign plants in his garden, in which he spent 
much of his time, and where Charles, almost as soon as-he 
had left his cradle, was his constant companion. It was 
in this way, no doubt, that he was first led to the love of 
the science, which he was destined so greatly to adorn. 
“ But his bent,” to quote his own words, “ was first 
decidedly displayed on the following occasion. He was 
scarcely four years old when he accompanied his father 
to a feast at Mékler; and in the evening, it being a very 
pleasant season of the year, the guests seated themselves 
on some flowery turf, listening to the pastor, who mede 
Various remarks on the names and properties of the 
plants, showing them the roots of the Succisa, Tormen- 
tilia, Orchides, &c. ‘The child paid the most uninterrupted 
attention to all he saw and heard, and from that hour 
never ceased harassing his father about the name, quali- 
tiesand nature of every plant he met with; indeed he 
very often asked more than his father was able to auswer, 
but, like other children, he used immediately to forget 
what he had learned, and especially the names of plants. 
Hence the father was sometimes put out of humour, 
and refused to answer him, unless he would promise to 
remember what was told him. Nor had this harshness 
any bad effect, for he afterwards retained with ease what- 
ever he heard.” When Linnzus was ten years old he 
was sent to school at Wexio, to be educated for the 
church; and here and at the gymnasium of the same 
place he continued for eight or nine years. During all 
this time, however, he confesses that he made very little 
progress in the studies to which he was chiefly expected 
to attend ; in mathematical and physical science he was 
superior to most of his schoolfellows, but in literature 
and the languages he made little or no progress. The 
bent of his mind was so strong in one direction that every 
thing but his favourite pursuits appeared indifferent to him 
—the peculiarity of all enthusiasts, and the chief source 
both of their weakness and of their strength. When- 
ever he could escape from the school, he was off to gather 
botanical specimens in the fields and woods. ‘The con- 
sequence of all this was that in ]726, when his father 
came to bring him home from the gymnasium with 
the intention of sending him to the university, he re- 
ceived such an account of him from the masters, thet 
he gave up all thought of educating him for the 
church, and determined to-bind him apprentice to some 
mechanical occupation. He had in fact made up bis 
mind to article him to a shoemaker or tailor, when he 
fortunately happened to call upon a Dr. Rothmann, a 
physician in the town. He mentioned his intentions - 
with regard to his son, and the vexation his conduct had 
occasioned him. Rothmann took a more considerate, 
and as it turned out, a much truer view of the case, than 
either the young man’s masters or his father had doue. 
It was pretty evident, he acknowledged, that Charles 
was not likely to become a luminary of the chureh; but 
it did not follow from that that he might not succeed ia 
a more congenial profession. In short, the benevolent 
physician ended the conversation by proposing to the 
clereyman to take his son into his own house, if he 
wc-.'d permit him to continue his studies, not in divinity, 
but in medicine. Such an offer, which, besides other 
valuable advantages, promised so much to lighten the 


192 


expense of the young man’s education, was not to be 
rejected. Next year, Linnwus proceeded to the Univer- 
sity of Lund. We must not, however, omit the amusing, 
aud as he calls it himself, ‘‘ not very creditable certificate’’ 
with which he was dismissed by the head-master of the 
gymnasium: “ Youth at school,’ it said, “may be 
compared to shrubs in a varden, which will sometimes, 
though rarely, elude all the care of the gardener, 
but if transplanted into a different soil, may become 
fruitful trees. With this view, therefore, and no other, 
the bearer is sent to the university, where it 1s possible 
that he may meet with a climate propitious to his 
progress.” But Linnezus, by the favour of a friend, 
found means to get his name enrolled in the cliiiieds. 
without showing this document, the horticultural style of 
which at any rate, was so appropriate to the subject. 
At Lund le was taken into the house of Stobzeus, one. 


of the medical professors, who was charmed with. 


the botanical knowledge he found him to possess ; 
and he derived particular advantage from the extensive 
library belonging to this, eentleman, often sitting up 
ail night to peruse the books which he borrowed ‘from 
it. Next year, however, he determined to leave this 
comfortable retreat for the’ University of .Upsala, 
where he thought he would enjoy superior advantages. 
All the assistance that. his pareuts could give him “for 
this project “amounted to a sum of about eieht pounds, 
aud with this he set ott. .* But in a hort | time,” 

as he tells us, “hie found his pocket quite empty, ‘no 
chance of obtaining private pupils (who in fact are 
seldum put under the care.of medical students), nor any 
other means of obtaining a livelihood. He was obliged 


to trust to chance for a neal, aud, in the article of dress | 


was driven to such’ shifts that he was obliged,’ when his 
shoes ‘required inending, . to patch’ them with folded 
paper, .instead of sending them to the cobbler.” Here 
also, however, his talents and acquirements at last re- 
commended him to a ‘protector, the eminent ‘professor 
Celsius, who tock him into‘his own house, as ‘Rothmann 
and ‘Stobsus had done before. It was while at Upsala, 
about the close of the year 1729, that his thoughts were 
first turned: to the new. views upon which he has founded 
his ecle brated system of vegetable nature, by’ the perusal’ 
of a.review of Vaillant’s Treatise on the sexes of plants 
in the Leipsic - ‘Commentaries. ‘Soon after he _ put a 
sketch of his system into the-hands of Rudbeck, the.’ pro- 
fessor ‘of’ botany ; and that gentleman’’was’ so much 
struck with its NOV elty and ingenuity that he imuwediately 
formed’ an’ intiniate. acquaintance with the author, and 


eventually ‘employed ‘him as his assistant in lectu‘ing, 
This was the’ first escape which Linnaus made from on 


sourity. into any thing like public notice ; but he had still 
a long. conrse’ of difficulties to,contend with, Meanwhile 
he ‘was inaking himself known over all Europe by ‘a 
rapid. succession of publications illustrative of his new 
views in. natural history.. That study was becoming 
more and in ore every year.a passion which absorbed his 
whole mind. In 1736 he visited England, where he is 
said to have been so enchanted ‘by the golden bloom of 
the fiurze in the neighbourhood of London, and especially 
on Putney heath, that he fell'on his knees in a rapture of 
delight at the sight. At last, about the year 1739, 
he took up’ his residence as a practising physician at 
Stockholm. In 1741 he was appointed professor of 
medicine at Upsala, and from this time he may be cousi- 
dered as having been on the fair road to fame and 
fortune. The ‘ “Species Plantarum,’ his great work, in 
which his system was first fully developed, appeared in 
1753, in two volumes, which; however, in the last edition, 
liave been extended to ten. In 1758 he was created’ by 
the King of Sweden a Kuight of the distinguished order- 
of the Polar Star, and in "1761 was Moved: After 

many literary Inbours, which we have not space to 
enumerate, and accumulating a respectable fortune, this 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


great naturalist died at his estate of Hammarby, near 
Upsala, on the 11th of January, 1778, in the seventy-first 
year of his age. At the conclusion of a very curious 
Diary kept by him, which has been published, he gives 
us an account of his own character. and habits. at preat 
length. ‘He was,” he says, “in the highest degree 
averse from every thing that bore the appearance of 
pride. He was not luxurious, but lived as temperately 
as most people. During the winter he slept from nine 
to seven, but in summer from ten to three. 
deferred doing what was necessary to be done. Every 
thing he observed he noted down in its proper place 
immediately, and never trusted it to memory. 
always entertained veneration and admiration vs his 
Creator, and endeavoured to — his science to its 
aut HOT , ? od 





ome: 
| N 





vA Aix " 






‘Dd 


: © ety, By a 







LA 


ae 






[ Portrait of Linneus. ] 


_ Protection of Commerce.—The fairs of Botzen are the 
principal fairs of the Tyrol, for:every:kind of merchandize ; 

they..are -held four times in.the year, and last a fortnight 
each ‘time. The fair had begun a few days before I reached 
Botzen, and I visited’ it for ‘the first time on’ the evening’ of 
my ‘arrival.’ ‘There’ is’ one very long” street in Botzen, with 
covered arcades on -both sides ; 
partly in shops, and’ partly: on stalls, that the fair is held. 
very kind of merchandize was exposed. . All the goods 
were. Austrian :: no. inanufactures of other nations are ad- 
mitted ; and ‘the protective system is. fully acted upon. 
Whatev erm ay be the wisdom of the Measure as regards the 
Government, individuals suffer by it. I inquired the prices 


[May 18, 1833, 


He never. 


é 


: He? 


& 


‘and it/isainder these arcades, | 


of several of the’ articles'which were exposed ; ; and found that - 


ood broad cloth, but not: by any means cqual to the west of 
E ngland cloth, or the cloth manufactured ‘at Verviers in the 
Netherlands, cost eizht florins a yard (about 18s. 8d.); and 
calicos, very inferior to the English, both in quality and 
colour—to say nothing of taste,—were at least one half 
dearer, Other articles were proportionably dear; especially 
every kind of cutlery, which, I need searcely say, was of a 
very inferior quality.— The iyf ol, by i. WD. Inglis. 








*.* The Office of the otha for’ the we". of Useful Knowledge ig at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, ' 


Printed by Witt1am CLowsgs, Stamford Street, ; oil ; 


om 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


- Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





73.) _. PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [May 25, 1838, 








TOUCANS. 
(Grouped from Le Vaillant’s Hist. Nat. des Ois. de Paradis; Rolliers, Toucans, &c. &e.) 


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1, Aracari Toucan (R. Aracart). 2. Red-bellied Toucan (R. Lrythrorynchos). 3. Toco Toucan (Ramphastos Toco). 
4, Black and Yellow Toucan (R. Discolorus), 


VoL. II. oC 


194 
THE TOUCAN. 


Tur preceding wood-cut represents a group of various 


species of the Toucan,—a bird, as will be perceived, 


of very remarkable formation. The enormous beak 
is nearly as long as the body; and this circurnstance 
+has given rise to the belief that the toucan Is greatly 
embarrassed by this extraordinary provision of nature, 
and rendered incapable of .those active movements which 
so peculiarly distinguish the feathered race. If the beak, 
indeed, were constructed in that solid manner which we 
ordinarily observe in birds of prey, and in those who 
live upon hard substances, we should not be surprised 
to fiiid so considerable ai appendage weighing down the 
unfortunate bird’s head, and unfitting it for upward flicht, 
or even for ordinary vision, excepting in one direction. 
In that case the toucan: must have been doomed to a 
grovelling life upon the earth, perpetually striving to 
use its brilliant wings, and longing to search for food 
amongst the high branches of fruit-bearing trees,-—but 
striving and longing in vain. This would not have 
been in conformity with the usual harmony of neture; 
and, therefore, in spite of its enormous beak, we find the 
toucans flying as nimbly as any other bird from tree to trée 
—perching on the summits of the very highest—searching 
for fruit with restless activity—pursuinge small birds 
which, itis now ascertained, form part of their food—and 
defending their young with unremitting vigilance against 
serpents, monkeys, and other enemies. All these functions 
of. their existence could not have been performed if the 
specific gravity of the beak were equal to its dimensions. 
But it is not so. As compared, in specific gravity, with 
the beak of a hawk for instance, the beak of the toucan 
may be said to stand in the same relation to it as a piece 
of pumice-stone to w piece of granite. 
the beak is a spongy tissue, presenting a number of cavi- 


ties, formed by extremely thin plates, and covered with a 


hard coat scarcely thicker. This remarkable beak forms 
almost as curious and wonderful an.example of peculiar 
organization as the trunk of the elephant. We are not 
so.intimately acquaiuted with its uses; but there can be 


no doubt that the instrument is admirably adapted to_ 
| learning. 


the necessities of the toucan’s existence. 


The toucans, as well as the aracaris, which they | 


greatly resemble, are found in the warmest paits of 
South America. Their plumage is brilliant; and their 


feathers have been employed as ornaments of dress by 


the ladies of Brazil and Peru. Several spécimens have 
been kept alive in this country. Mr. Broderip, in the 
Zoological Journal for January 1825, has given an 
interesting account of a specimen in a small menagerie, 
whose habits he watched with great care. 
mination the fact was established that the toucan ordi- 
narily feeds ‘on small birds. 
upon a goldfinch being pt into his cag'e, would instantly 
kill it. by.a squeeze ‘of his bill, and then deliberately pull 
his prey to pieces, swallowing ‘every portion, not except- 
ing the beak and the legs. Mr. Broderip states that the 
toucan appeared to: derive the greatest satisfaction from 
the act of eating, which he ascribes to the peculiar sensi- 
bility of the internal part of the beak. He never used 
his foot except to confine his prey on the perch: the 
beak was the only instrument employed in tearing -it to 
pieces. It appears, also, that this bird subjects some of 
its food to a second mastication by its beak, in a manner 
somewhat resembling ‘the ‘similar ‘action in ruminating 
animals, 


BLIND ALICK ‘OF STIRLING. 


Alick™, who possesses a memory of almost incredible 
strength. 


* A Scotch diminutive for Alexander, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The exterior of 


By this exa-- 


The toucan in question, . 


[May 285, 


indeed, at that time, wealth could not have done 
much for the education of one labouring under his 
privations. The admirable system of instructing the 
blind, and those ingemons. contrivaices of our days 
which may almost be said to supply -the deficiency of 
sight, were not yet known. ‘The poor people of Scot- 
land, however, much to théir honour, ‘havé generally 
Shown an anxiety that their children should receive the 
first rudiments of edtication, and have long been accuse 
tomed to send them regularly to some humble day- 
school. 'To a school of this sort Alick was sent by his 
parents to kéep him out of mischief, and in order that 
he might learn something by hearing the lessons of the 
other children. ‘The only volume then used in such 
establishments as a class or reading-book was the Bible; 
and it was customary for the scholars, as they read in 
rotation, to repeat not only the number of each chapter 
but the number of each verse as it was read. By con- 
stantly hearing these readings young Alick soon began 
to retain many of the passages of scripture, and with 
them the number of the chapter and verse where they 
occurred. It is probable, that being incapacitated by 


| his sad privation from any useful employment, he may 


have remained an unusual leneth of time at this school ; 
aud that his father, as was generally the case with the 
Scottish peasantry, was a great reader of the Bible at 
home. A constait attendance at church would also 
contribute to the result._ 

However all this may have been, it was observed with 
astonishinent that when Blind Alick was a man, and 
obliged, by the death of his parents, to gain a livelihood 
by begging through the streets of his native town of 
Stirling, he knew the whole of the Bible, both Old and 
New Testaments, by heart! 

This prodigious éxtent of memory naturally attracted 
the attention of many persons in good circumstances, 
and recommended him to the poor Presbyterian town- 
folk; so that Aliéh not only had his limited wants very 
readily ‘supplied, and lived an easy mendicant sort of 
life, but was looked upon by all as one of the wonders 
of the place, and was noticed by men of science and 


The late Professor Dugald Stewart once expressed 
an intention of questioning Blind Alick, and examining 
this phenomenon of the human mind. That acute me- 
taphysician might have elicited some curious facts, but 
we believe the interview never took place. Many per- 
sons of education have, however, examined Alick, and 
have invariably been astonished at the extent of his me- 
mory. You may repeat any passage in scripture, and 
he will tell you the chapter and verse; or you may tell 
him the chapter and verse of any part of scripture, and 
he will repeat to you the passage, word for word. Not 
long since a gentleman, to puzzle him, read, with a 
slight verbal alteration, a verse of the Bible. Alick 
hesitated a moment, and then told where it was to be 
found, but said it had not been correctly delivered; he 
then yave it as it stood in the book, correcting the slight 
error that had been purposely introduced. ‘The gentle- 
man then asked him for the ninetieth verse of the 
seventh chapter of Numbers. Alick was again puzzled 
for a moment, but then said hastily, “ You are fooling 
me, sirs! there is no such verse —'that chapter has only 
eighty-nine verses.” Several other experiments of the 
sort were tried upon him with the same success. He 
has often been questioned the day after any particular 


j sermon or speech; and his examiners have invariably 
. £0 | found, that had their patience allowed, Blind Alick would 
THERE is stil] living at Stirling a blind old beggar, . 
known to all the ‘country foutd by the name of Blind 


have given them the sermon or the speech over again. 
Another‘extraordinary part'of this meudicant’s memory 
is shown in the manner in which he recollects the sounds 


: | » . | of voices. A Scotch gentleman, who had formerly fre- 
Alick was blind from his childhood. He was the son 
of poor parénts, who could do little for him; though, 


quently amused himself with the old man (Alick has 
much dry, shrewd humour), but who had not been at 


i Stirling for ‘many years, happened lately to visit that 


1833.] 


town. He met Alick taking his daily walk and accosted 
him. ‘I should know that voice,” said the blind man, 
“but itis not so Scottish as it was—you will have been 
living among the Englishers.” Alick was quite correct: 
the wentleman had been living for a long time out of 
Scotland, and had partly lost his vernacular accent. 

Blind Alick lives alone, and whenever he quits his 
humble apartment he locks the door and carries the key 
with him in his hands. This key, which is old-fashioned, 
and of rather an extraordinary size, is always in his 
hands while he is abroad. He is indeed never seen without 
it, and while talking or answering the questions which are 
so frequently put to him, he rubs the key backward and 
forward in his hands, or shifts it from one hand to the 
other. A curious discovery was accidentally made, that 
by taking this key from him his memory became confused, 
and its wonderful current soon stopped. . 

Several experiments have been made to ascertain this 
fact, and one recently by the gentleman whose change of 
accent Alick had detected. He took the key as if to 
examine it, and continued to interrogate the beggar as 
to different passages of scripture, &c. Alick’s responses 
came more and more slowly, and then incorrectly, until 
he entreated the gentleman would return him his key, 
for he could not command his memory without having it 
in his hands. From this, ignorant.persons have almost 
been inclined to look upon Blind Alick’s key as a talis- 
man, or something magical; though the fact will only 
suggest to the philosophic mind the force of habit, and 
the mysterious thouch natural association existing between 
our: mental faculties and material things and circum- 
stances. In much the same manner an old Italian 
eentleman (known to the writer of this article), who was 
remarkable for his conversational powers, was invariably 
reduced to silence and absence of mind if any person 
took possession of a particular chair in a particular part 
of the room which he had been accustomed to occupy for 
a loug series of years. It was in vain to press him with 
the subjects of conversation in which his heart most de- 
lizhted, and on which he was habitually most eloguent— 
there was scarcely a word to be obtained from Don Felix 
until he was restored to his wonted seat. 

Blind Alick’s memory has not only resisted the en- 
croachment of old age, but. what is generally still more 
destructive to that faculty of the mind, the impairing 
effect of strong drinks. 

Blind as he is, Alick is so well acquainted with every 
turn and corner, with every ascent and descent in Stirling, 
that he requires no one to guide him: he dispenses 
even with the services of a dog, that useful, sagacious, 
and faithful attendant on the poor blind. His favourite 
walk is round the precipitous rock on which Stirling 
Castle is built, where in many places a slight deviation 
from the path would cause a broken neck or broken 
limbs. ‘There however he goes, day after day, and on 
the sunny side of that height the curious traveller is 
pretty sure to find Blind Alick, with his key in his hand. 





Lapland Stockings.——The numerous species of Sedge 
(called by botanists’Carex) are applied to a variety of useful 
purposes. In Herefordshire, for instance, sedge is used for 
tying young hop-plants to the poles; in Cambridge for 
lighting fires; and every where for making common chair 
bottoms. In Lapland, however, it has a much more im- 
‘portant office, as will appear from the following passage 
translated from Linneeus by Mr. Curtis. The great Swedish 
botanist is speaking of the Carex acuta :—‘‘ Thou wilt won- 
der, perhaps, curious reader, in what manner human beings 
are capable of preserving life during the intense severity of 
a winter's frost in Lapland, a part of the world deserted on 
the approach of winter by almost every kind of bird and 
‘beast. The inhabitants of this inhospitable climate are 
obliged to wander with their rein-deer flocks continually in 
the woods, not only in the day time, but through the longest 
winter nights; their cattle are never housed, nor do they eat 
-any other food than liver-wort; hence the herdsmen, to secure 
them from wild beasts and other accidents, are of necessity 


* 
\ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


195 


kept perpetually with them. The darkness of their nights 
is, In a degree, overcome and rendered more tolerable bv the 
light of the stars reflected from the snow, and the Aurora 
Borealis, which in a thousand fantastic forms nightly illumines 
their hemisphere. The cold is intense, sufficient to friehten 
and drive us foreigners from their happy woods. No part of 
our bodies 1s so liable to be destroyed by cold as the extremi- 
ties, which are situated farthest from the heart ; the chilblains 
of the hands and feet so frequent with us in Sweden suffi- 
ciently indicate this. Inno part of Lapland do we find the 
inhabitants affected with cnilblains, though, in respect to the 
country, oue would expect them to be peculiarly subject to 
this disease, especially as they wear no stockings, while we 
clothe ourselves in one, two, and even tliree pair—A Lap- 
lander preserves himself from the violence of the cold in the 
following manner: he wears trousers made of the rough 
skin of the rein-deer which reach to his ankles, and shoes 
made of the same material, the hair turned outward ; this 
grass (the Carex acuta), cut down in the summer, dried, 
rubbed betwixt the hands, and afterwards combed and carded, 
he puts into his shoes, so as not only wholly to enwrap his feet, 
but the lower part of his legs also, which thus defended never 
suffer from the severest cold; with this grass he also fills his 
hairy gloves to preserve his hands ; and thus arethose hardy 
people enabled to bear the frost.—As this grass in the winter 
drives away cold, so in the summer it checks the perspiration 
of the feet, and preserves them from being injured by stones 
in travelling, for their shoes are extremely thin, being made 
of untanned skins. It is difficult to learn on inquiry, what 
the particular species of grass is which is thus in request 
with these people, as some use one sort, and some another. 
It is, however, always a species of Carex, and we understood 
chiefly this.""-—The liver-wort mentioned in this quotation is 
the rein-deer lichen, the Lichen Rangiferinus of Linnzeus, 
but now called Cenomyce Rangiferina, 


American Politeness.— When a female of whatever condi- 
tion (always alas! provided she has no negro blood in her 
veins) enters a coach, or packet (in most parts of the United 
States), or any other conveyance, the universal practice is for 
the best seat to be resigned to her use ; this in a carriage is 
considered to be the one which enables the traveller to sit 
with his face to the horses. Mr. Stuart (whose travels we 
recently noticed), being aware of this custom, but at the same 
time suffering much from riding backwards, took measures 
on one occasion for securing himself against the necessity of 
resigning the seat of honour; by application at the coach- 
office he obtained a positive promise that the favourite place 
should be reserved for him, and that he should be left in 
the undisturbed possession of it. At starting, Mr. Stuart, 
much to his satisfaction, seated himself -according to his 
bargain, promising himself for once at least a day of comfort 
on his journey. His felicity, however, was of very short 
duration. ‘The coachman pulled up in a street near the out- 
skirts of the town, a door opened, and the usual cry of 
“Jadies’’ from the cad warned our traveller that his newly 
chartered rights were in danger of being contested. It was 
in vain that he pleaded-his bargain; the whole covenant was 
declared null and void ab initio; coachman, porters, pas- 
sengers, and by-standers, all joined in denouncing his claim as 
abominable and preposterous ; the ladies refused to enter the 
vehicle or even to leave their house until the seat was vacated. 
and all was uproar and confusion. The iandlord of the hote.’ 
whence the coach had started, being sent for. to decide the. 
dispute, refused to acknowledge the validity of the agreement, 
into which, considering its extraordinary nature, his book- 
keeper could have no right to enter without his especial per- 
mission ; and on Mr. Stuart's continuing to turn a deaf ear 
to representation, persuasion, remonstrance, and invective, 
the angry proprietor at length declared that if he persisted’ 
in retaining his seat, he might do so, but that he should 
derive little benefit from his obstinacy ; for that he would 
order the horses to be detached and led off to a spare coach, 
in which the ladies should have their proper places. As even 
yet no sign of concession appeared, the threat was actually 
put in execution ; and our traveller finding at length that 
an individual has but little chance of resisting the united: 
opinion of a whole population, was finally reduced to the 
necessity of following to the other vehicle amidst the Jeers: 
and exulting laughter of the by-standers. Mr, Stuart, who 
tells the whole story with infinite good-humour, adds that. 
after travelling a few miles he entered into conversation with 
his fair ejectors, and that the whole party soon became per- 


fectly cordial. 
. é 2C2 


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196 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[North-west View of Durham Cathedral.] 


THE above wood-cut presents a view of this massive 
and ancient pile. The earliest seat of the bishopric of 
Durham was the small isle of Lindisfarne, off the coast 
of Northumberland. Here. in the year 635, Aidan, a 
mouk, bronght from Iona by the Northumbrian king 
Oswald, who had reezived his education at the court 
of his relative. Donald IV. of Seotland, fixed his resi- 
dence, aloig with the other pious men who were to be 
his assistau:s in the work of introducing and diffusin 
the light of Christianity among the Pagan subjects of 
the Saxon sovereian. Another monk of Lona, named 
Corman, had preceded Aidan in the Northumbrian mis- 
sion; but the severity of his temper, or his repulsive 
manner, is said to have so greatly impeded his success 
in conversion, that after a short time he gave up the 
attempt, aud returned to his monastery The successor 
of Aidan, who died in 651, and from whom Lindisfarne 
derived the name of Holy Island, by which it is still 
known, was Finan, also from the same venerable northera 
seat of sanctity, His incumbency lasted for ten years, 


during which he commenced the building of the first 
church on Lindisfarne, which was, however, merely an 
edifice of wood, thatched with reeds. Three other Scotch 
bishops followed, the last of whom, Eata, died in 685. 
The person next appointed to the see was the renowned 
St. Cuthbert. This celebrated character only held the 
office of bishop for two years; but his name has become 
more intimately associated with the see in history and 
popular tradition, than any other. with which it has ever 
been connected. He is said to have been originally a 
shepherd, near Melrose; which condition he was in- 
duced to exchange, according to the legend, for that of 

a monk, by certain miraculous intimations from heaven, 
which we shall not stop to recount. His devotion and 
extreme asceticism soon procured him unrivalled cele- 
brity. Not only was he believed to be endowed with 
supernatural powers while alive ; for many ages after his 
death his mortal relics were regarded as having the pro- 
perty of working miracles. All who have read the early 


| history of the English Church are familiar with the story 


1833. ] 


of the manner in which the monks of Lindisfarne, driven 
from their original abode by the ravages of the Danish 
pirates, were directed in their choice of a new residence by 
the dead body of St. Cuthbert. Itis affirmed that the 


coffin in which: it was deposited, after having: suffered itself 


to be carried about for a long while by the wandering 
brethren without resistance wherever they chose, suddenly 
halted when it was brought to the spot on which the 
city of Durham is now built, and could not by any force 
be removed from its station. 


Aldune, or Aldwime. 
course, assumed by him and his brethren to point out 
the place where ‘it. happened as the appointed site of 
their new monastery. Preparations, accordingly, were 
immediately made for effecting the settlement thus dis- 
tinctly commanded by heaven. The miraculous tale 
was found, as might have been expected, to have a 
powerful effect in exciting the pious exertions of the 
neighbouring inhabitants. The wood with which the 
place was covered was cleared by their fervent activity ; 
and after the persevering labour of two or threé years, 
the spire of a completed Christian ‘temple was seen 
rising in the midst of the waste. 


Obvious as are the traces of fraud and superstition’ 
which this narrative presents, it is not the less fitted to: 


add to the interest of the spot where the scene of it is 
laid. ‘The very grossness of the invention which was 


successfully resorted to, iu order to work upon the minds’ 


of the simple population, presents the most vivid picture 
that could be drawn of the ignorance and thick darkness 
of the time. ‘The spectre is the most forcible as well as 
the most picturesque evidence of the gloom: The body 
of St. Cuthbert has since this date had a curious history ; 
but one much too long for us to detail. The fable was 
that the clayey tenement of the departed saint remained 
as unaffected by corruption as when his spirit inhabited it ; 
and this continued to be universally believed down at least 
to the Reformation. The most decisive confutation, 
however, which the story -has received was; given to it 


only a few years ago by the actual disinterment of thé. 


body. The Rev. Jaines Kayne, rector of Meldon,’ has 
published a highly interesting account of this discovery 
il a quarto velume entitled “Saint Cuthbert ; with an 
account of the state in which his:remains were found 
upon the opening of his, tomb; in Durham Cathedral, 
in the year mpccexxvu.’ The work is: one of great 
learning and ability, and will well reward the perusal 
either of the antiquary or the general reader. Mr. Rayne 


conceives that he has proved that the coffin in which: the. 
remains of the saint were found was the very one in. 


which they lay for some centuries at Lindisfarne, and 
which was afterwards carried’ about from place to place 
by the monks in their search after a new residence. It 
is curious that this is uot the only memorial we 
possess of these remote events. A book is still in the 
British Museum which is said to have been carried 
about along with the coffin, and which yet presents 
some remarkable evidences of its alleged history. Upon 
this head we can only afford to mention farther that at the 
late disinterment it was found that a composition, in 
nitation of the natural appearance, had been substituted 
for the eyes of the saint, doubtless with the object of 
supp»rting the imposture respecting the pretended. pre- 
servation of his body. His skull, we may add, exhibited 
the fragments of a nose and chin turned upwards in 
rather a remarkable manner ; and altogether its confor- 
mation seems to have been somewhat peculiar, although 
not of the description that, according to modern doctrines, 
would indicate any intellectual superiority in its possessor 
Tie present Cathedral of Durham contains no portion 
of the church erected by Bishop Aldwine. It was begun 
in 1093, by one of his successors, William de Carilepho, 
who had been abbot of St. Vincent the Martyr, in Nor- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


This happened towards’ 
the close of the tenth century, in the time of Bishop 
The extraordinary event was, of 


197: 


mandy, and presided over the see of Durham from 1080 


till 1095. His immediate successor, Ralph Flambard, 
who held the office till 1128, continued the undertaking: 
and carried up the walls as far as the reof The r+ 
was then five years vacant, during which the monks 
applied a great part of their revenues towards the com. 
pletion of the work. - It appears, ‘however,’ not to have 
been finished till about the middle'of the thirteenth 
century, when Nicholas Farnham ‘was bishop, and 
Thomas Welscome, or Melsonby, or Malsamb, prior of 
the monastery. Indeed some important ‘additions’ seem 
to have been made to it within a‘few years of the close of 
the century. - oe a 

' The building therefore presents us with a complete 
exemplification or history of the’ progress of ecclesiastical 
architecture in Enigland during the twelfth and thirteenth 
centuries. According to the account-of it published at 
the expense of the Antiquarian Society, with the drawings 
of Mr. Carter, and understood to be written, we believe, 
by ‘Sir -Henry Englefield, it illustrates the successive 
changes which took place during’ the reions of the first 
three Henries, till by degrees the pointed had completely 
superseded the circular roof, and the heavy -Norman 
pillars had become’ polished into the light shafts of the 
early English.’ The general character ‘of the edifice, 
however, is massy and ponderous, only a few of the last 
finished ‘parts exhibiting the commencement. of a lighter 
style. Some of the‘more ancient-pillars are twenty-three 


feet in circumference. : Within the last half’century it 


has undergone extensive repairs in almost every part ; 
but these unfortunately have not been generally executed 
in the. best taste, ‘nor with sufficient attention to the 
character of the original building. . The’south front is the 
one that preserves its ancient appearance most entire ; 
but it is in great part encumbered and concealed from 
view by the cloisters, and other extraneous erections. 
The west front is the richest, and most-imposing.. Be- 
sides the square towers surmounted by pinnacles, whicli, 


as usudl, crown its extremities, it is adorned by a pro- 


jecting chapel in the centre, called the Galilee, flanked 
by buttresses and arches. The Galilee appears to have 
been repaired and renovated by Cardinal Langley, who 


was bishop of Durham at the ‘commencement .of the 


fifteenth century,.and it is finished accordingly in a much 
more florid style than the greater part of the cathedral. 
It is.80 feet.in’ length by 50. in breadth. Over it 
is a window of large dimensions, ‘but of no.remarkable 
beauty. j A: ; 

The Cathedral of Durham stands ‘on the summit of 
the mount around which the .town is ‘built, and occupies, 


‘therefore, a singularly conspicuous and:.commanding 


position: Both from its site.and its size it. far overtops 
all the other buildings in the midst of which it is placed, 
and is seen from a great distance rising high above the 
horizon. Itis built in the customary form of a cross ; 
but in addition to the great central transept, which is. 
170 feet in length, it has smaller cross aisles at both its 
eastern and western extremities. A richly ornamented 
tower ascends from the centre of the building to the 
height of 212 feet; and two others, as already mentioned, . 
of less height and plainer architecture, rise over the 
western front. ‘The entire cathedral is about 411 feet ; 
in length, and about 80 feet in breadth. . 

The two fronts of which the best view is to be obtained 
are the north and the west. The former may be seen to 
creat advantage from the spacious square called the 
Piace, or Palace Green, which it overlooks, and on the 
opposite side of which stands the building called the 
Castle, which is the bishop's city residence. ‘The west 
front surmounts a rocky declivity, at the foot of which 
flows the river Wear; end from the opposite bank of 
that stream the facade a.id its battlemented towers show 
themselves with full eect, and in all their venerable 
grandeur. 


198 
OLD TRAVELLERS.—No. 2. 


ROBERT KNOX—continued. 


Bersipes the men taken with Robert Knox and_ his 
father, there was another party of Englishmen detained 
prisoners in Ceylon. 


wrecked upon the Maldive islands, wheuce they had 
escaped in boats to a part of the coast held by the 
Cingalese, who immediately seized them and carried them 
up the country. ‘They had been prisoners eighteen 
months at the time Knox and his party were detained. 
Two of them had imprudently entered the service of the 
King of Kandy, These were very young men, named 
Hugh Smart, and Henry Man. ‘They lived within the 
court and obtained great favour, being always about the 
sovereign’s person. ‘They could not, however, forget 
their own country, and when a Dutch ambassador 
came up to Kandy from the coast, Hugh Smart contrived 
to steal to him and ask news concerning England. This 
was a capital offence in Cingalese law, ‘‘ for,” says Ro- 
bert Knox, ‘‘ the king allows none whatever to come to 
the speech of Ambassadours, much less one that served 
in his presence, and heard and saw all that passed in 
court.” Had a Cingalese committed the offence, he 
certainly would have died, but the tyrant was merciful to 
this English youth, and merely sent him farther up the 
mountains, where Hugh took a native wife who bore him 
a son. He afterwards came to an accidental death. 

Henry Man who retained the dangerous favour of the 
king, and who was promoted to be “chief over all the 
kine’s servants that attended on him in his palace,” met 
with a much more wretched end. He had the mischance 
to break one of the tyrant’s china dishes, on which, being 
sore afraid, he ran for sanctuary to a Cingalese temple. 
The king not wishing to take him by force from the 
priests, induced him by a kind message to return to the 
court. But no sooner did the unfortunate Henry come 
forth, than men, acting by the king’s orders, seized him 
and bound his arms behind him, above the elbows. ‘In 
which manner he lay all that night, being bound so hard 
that his arms swelled, and the ropes cut through the flesh 
into the bones. ‘The next day the king commanded a 
nobleman to loose the ropes off his arms, and put chains 
on his legs, and keep him in his house, and there feed 
him and cure him. ‘Thus he lay some six months, and 
was cured, but had no strength in his arms, and then 
was taken into office again, and had as much favour from 
the king as before.”’ 

A short time after this, Henry was detected in a cor- 
respondence with a Portuguese ;—this sealed his doom. 
With the Portuguese who had written the letter, and a 
third individual who had been privy to it, he was bound 
and cast out of the palace, when they were all three “at 
one time andin one place torn in pieces by elephants,” 
who were the principal executioners in Ceylon. 

This alarming intelligence soon reached Robert. Knox 
and the rest of the English, but at the same time the 
tyrant sent special orders to the people among whom 
they were settled that they should all be kindly treated. 

When four years of captivity had expired, Robert 


entertained very strong hopes of an immediate delivery.’ 


Sir Edward Winter, Governor of Fort Saint George, 
contrived to remit a letter to the King of Kandy, in 
behalf of the prisoners; and at the same time a Dutch 
ambassador from Colombo used his mediation in’ their 
favour. Knox, and all those who had been taken with 
him, were ordered up to the capital which was then at 
Nillemby, where they met the crew of the ‘“ Persia Mer- 
chant”’ whom they had not hitherto seen. ‘They were in 
all twenty-seven Englishmen. A few: days afte. their 
arrival they were summoned to court, aud there assured 
by some of the uobles that it was his majesty’s pleasure 
io grant them all their liberty, and to let them depart for 


THE PENNY’ MAGAZINE, 


These men, thirteen in number, 
belonged to a ship (the Persia Merchant) that had been 


and going about the countries a trading.” 


[May 25, 


their own country. It appears, however, that there was 
never any sincerity in these assurances. ‘ For in the 
next place,” says Knox, “they told us, it was the king’s 
pleasure to let us understand, that all those who were 
willing to stay and serve his majesty, should have very 
great rewards, as towns, monies, slaves, and places of 
honour conferred upon them; which we all in general 
refused.” j 

Shortly after this the Englishmen were examined 
privately, one by one, as to their willingness to stay, and 
the arts and crafts they were in possession of. What the 
kine most wanted were artisans and trumpeters. Every 
man stood firm in declining the honours offered, and in 
preferring to go to his native country ; “ by which,” says 
Knox, “ we purchased the king’s displeasure.” 

How matters might have ended, appears to have been 
extremely doubtful; but while they were waiting about the 
court, a part of the Cingalese people, who had too long 
borne the tyrant’s cruelty, broke out into sudden rebellion 
and forced him to fly to the mountains. At first the 
insurgents had thought of murdering all the English, as 
they might prove formidable if they joined the king; 
but notions more favourable to them at length prevailed, 
and when the tyrant had fled, the sailors were permitted 
to ransack the houses of those who departed with him,—a 
permission of which they availed themselves without any 
scruple of conscience, and ‘‘ found good prey and plunder.” 

Vhe rebels then marched on to Kandy, where the 
king’s son, a boy of fifteen, whom they intended to pro-. 
claim in his father’s stead, was then residing. The 
English sailors went with them as friends and allies. On 
Christmas-day, ‘‘of all the days in the year!” exclaims 
Robert, they were summoned to the palace, and pre- 
sented by the leaders of the insurgents with money and 
clothes, to induce them to bear arms against the old king, 
which they were willing enough to do. But lo! just at 
this crisis the young prince and his aunt escaped from the 
rebels! ‘which so amazed and discouraged them,’ says 
Knox, “that the money and clothes which they were dis- 
tributing to us and other strangers, they scattered about 
the court and fled themselves. And now followed 
nothing but cutting one another's throats to make them- 
selves appear the more loyal subjects, and make amends 
for their former rebellion.” The Englishmen scrambled 
with the rest for the money that was strewed about, 
“being in great necessity and want;” and having got as 
much of it as they could, they retreated from the hurly- 
burly to their own lodgings, wisely intending ‘neither to 
meddle nor make on one side or the other, being well 
satisfied, if God would permit them, quietly to sit, and 
eat such a Christmas dinner together as he had prepared 
for them.” ‘ -s 

The restored tyrant took a tyrant’s vengeance on his 
subjects ;—his sword devoured on every side; yet, though 
they were sorely alarmed, he did not touch so much as a 
hair of the Englishmen’s heads, being willing to believe 
that they had joined the rebels by force and had only 
plundered through want, ashe was not there to give 
them rice. He, however, left them for two months to 
shift for themselves, during which time they begged by 
the road’s side. ‘They were then sent back to different 
parts of the country as before: not another word was said 
about their release ; but the Cingalese among whom they 
were to sojourn, were commanded to supply them gratis 
with provisions, and treat them kindly. 7 

‘The place where Robert Knox was quartered was 
much nearer to the sea than his former residence; and 
this circumstance prolonged the hope, which he never 
abandoned, of escaping from the island. ‘To ensure his 
comfort, however, in the mean time, he built himself 
another house “ upon the bank of a river, and intrenched 
it round with a ditch, and planted a hedge; and so 
bean to settle; and followed the business of “knitting 
As none of 


1833.] 


‘them had escaped, the English captives were gradually 
allowed more liberty. The capital with which he began 
his manufactures of caps this second time was only about 
seven shillings, yet from this humble beginning, with 
industry and thrift, he became at the end of two years a 
man of considerable substance, for that country. He 
was rich in betel-nuts, a staple and valuable commodity 
of Ceylon. ‘Tne natives, seeing his prosperity and 
orderly cotiduct, were very pressing that he should take a 
young Wife from among them ; “it would be an ease and 
help to him,” they said, knowing that he cooked his own 
victuals, as he had turned away his black boy to seek his 
fortune, when at the capital, “and it was not convenient 
for a young man lke him to live so solitarily alone in a 
house.” But Robert resisted all these temptations, as he 
felt that such an alliance might detach his thoughts from 
_Eneland and tie him to Ceylon. 

At the end of two years the Dutch penetrated inland, 
and built’a fort not far from Robert’s residence. On 
learning this the kine ordered that. he should be removed 
immediately ; and so sudden and arbitrary was this re- 
moval, that he was obliged to leave all his wealth behind 
him and could scarcely save his clothes. ° : 

He was conveyed to a dismal town called Lageen- 
denny, a place of exile for such as incurred the king’s 
displeasure, situated on the top of a lofty mountain. 
Here also state prisoners were frequently sent for secret 
assassination. ‘This change, from ‘‘ the sweet and plea- 
sant country below,’ was indeed a sad one; his solitude 
was, however, cheered by the company of his “ dear friend 
and fellow-prisoner, and fellow-bachelor, Mr. John Love- 
land* (who had been supercargo of his father’s ship), 
with whom he lived very amicably in the same house. 

By this time Knox and Loveland were almost the only 
single men among the English captives, for the mass of 
the others despairing of liberty “had built them houses, 
and taken them wives, by whom they had many children.” 
The behaviour of these men, who had not Robert's decree 
of education and reli~ious feeling, was far from being 
exemplary ; they addicted themselves to arrack, an ardent 
spirit made in Ceylon from sweet juice extracted from 
the unexpanded flower of the cocoa-nut tree; they stole 
cows to procure themselves beef; they domineered over, 
and not unfrequently beat the poor peasants among 
whom they were quartered, and who seem to have been a 
mild, inoffensive people. ‘The life of these rude mariners, 
apart from their forcible detention, was certainly not a 
hard one ; for rice and some other provisions they paid 
nothing ; they could cultivate the ground and knit caps 
without hinderance or tax of any kind; and now, provided 
they did not approach the sea-coast, they were at liberty 
to range over the rest of the island, which they did as 
pedlars. 

After some time Knox contrived to descend from his 
mountain abode at Laggendenny to his former fair house, 
near the river, and there obtained payment of a few of 
his many out-standing debts, with which small capital he 
began the world again for the third time; and for a 
third time he prospered. As his wealth increased he 
became desirous of buying a fine piece of land, and having 
consulted a Cingalese, high in. authority, touching the 
legality of his making such a purchase, and not finding 
any impediment, he bought the said land. ‘This place 
also,” says Robert, “liked me wondrous well; it being a 
point of land, standing mito a corn-field, so that corn-fields 
were on three sides of it, and just before my door a little 
corn-ground belonging thereto, and very well watered. 
In the ground, besides eight coker-nut trees, there were 
all sorts of fruit trees the island afforded. But it had 
been so lone desolate, that it was all overgrown with 
bushes, and no sien of a house therein. The price of 
this land was five aud twenty larees, that is, five dollars 

(about one pound sterling), a great sum of money in the 
account of this country.” I> | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| court to plead for it. 


199 

The place was called Elledat, and lay some ten miles 
to the south of the city of Kandy. Knox proceeded forth- 
with to build another house here, in which he was assisted 
by three Englishmen who were settled in the neiehbour- 
hood, and who either had not married or had quitted 
their native wives, being all at that time single men, 
When his new house was finished, and the grounds well 
cultivated, Robert proposed that the three Englishmen 
should live and share the produce of the estate with him, 
only pledging themselves to remain single men. This 
covenant which he says he thought fit to make “to 
exclude women from coming in, to prevent all strife and 
dissension,” was formally agreed to ; and for two years 
they lived amicably together, not an ill word passing 
between them. At the end of the second year, however, 
two of them, wearied of their condition, took wives, on 
which they were excluded the community. Robert now 
remained at Elledat with only one companion—Stephen 
Rutland, who never left him. “ We lived solitarily and 
contentedly,” he says, ‘being well settled in a house of 
my own. Now also we fell to breeding up goats: we 
began with two, but by the blessing of God they soon 
came to a good many; and their flesh served us instead 
of mutton. We kept hens and hogs also; and seeing 
no sudden likelihood of liberty, we went about to make 
all.thines handsome and convenient about us.” 

In course of time Robert and his comrade Stephen so 
improved the house and ground, that few noblemen’s 
seats in the land excelled them. They defended their 
entrances by two great thorn gates after the fashion of 
the country, and built also another house in the yard 
“all open for air”’ to receive the visits of their Cingalese 
neighbours. | 

Knox, who decidedly had a commercial turn, on per- 
ceiving that “the trade of knitting was grown dead,” as 
so many hands had overstocked the market with cotton 
caps, and that he could not extend his agricultural 
operations without women (having excluded them from 
his little republic), who, in Ceylon, perform the c¢reater 
part of the labours of husbandry, resolved to take up 
another trade in use among the Cingalese. ‘ This 
trade,” to give his own description of it, ‘ was to lend 
out corn; the benefit of which is fifty per cent. per 
annum. ‘This I saw to be the easiest and most profitable 
way of living, whereupon I took in hand to follow it; 
and what stock I had, I converted into corn or rice in 
the husk. And now as customers came for corn, I let 
them have it, to receive at their next harvest, when their 
own corn. was ripe, the same quantity I lent them, and 
half as much more. But as the profit is great, so is the 
trouble of getting it in also. For he that useth this trade 
must watch when the debtor's field is ripe, and claim his 
due in time, otherwise other creditors coming before will 
seize ali upon the account of their debts, and leave no 
corn at all for those that come later.’’ 'This circumstance 
affords a curious illustration of the difficulty of carrying 
on agricultural operations in a country with little capital, 
where the cultivators are too poor to wait from the seed- 
time to the harvest. 2 

All this while Knox had been receiving his rice and 
other daily provisions from the poor Cingalese, who at 
last refused to furnish them any longer, saying that he 
was better able to live without their donation than they 
to give it him. Knox, who appears to have become 
avaricious, is obliged to allow that tlis was perfectly 
true; but he says he did not think fit to lose that por- 
tion of allowance, which the kine was pleased to allot 
him. ‘This would have been very well, had his supplies 
of rice, &c. been made at the expense of the kine; but 
hitherto the burden had fallen entirely on the oppressed 
and impoverished peasantry, and Robert would have 
done well to wave so odious a right lone before. He 
still, however, insisted on his daily allowance, and went to 
His might was readily admitted ; 


200 


but the great man intrusted with these matters, at last, 
taking into consideration the poverty of the people 
among whom Knox dwelt, gave him a ticket which 
entitled him.to go every month to court, and receive his 
supplies from the kine’s own storehouses. He was 
well-nigh paying dear for his greediness: his frequent 
appearance at court drew on him the attention of the 
great men, who determined that he should be taken into 
the king’s service,—a service which, from the cruelty of 
the tyrant, was almost sure to terminate in a dreadful 
death, and which would have rendered impossible that 
escape from the country on which Robert and his friend 
Stephen were still bent. With great address and dif- 
ficulty he escaped this court promotion, and returned to 
his house at Elledat, too happy to’sacrifice for the future 
his allowance of rice. a 

He now renewed his peddling trade on a much grander 
scale, both as related to the goods he dealt in, and to the 
extent of country he travelled through. . He bought a 
quantity of pepper, tobacco, garlic, combs, and iron- 


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[Italian Wolf-Dogs.] 


In No. 62 we gave an account of the shepherds of the 
Abruzzi, and of the powerfuland courageous race of dogs 
that are employed there to defend the flocks against the 
attacks of wolves. . In the Zoological-Gardens there are 
specimens of this species of dog... They are of beautiful 
form, something lighter than the Newfoundland dog, but 
strong and muscular. Their fine long hair is white. In 


the above cut we have given portraits of these noble 
animals. : 


# 





She-Goats.—I believe the best method of rearing children, 
when their mothers cannot nurse them, is by allowing them 
to suck’ a domesticated animal.- I know a: fine- healthy 
young lady, now about seventeen years of age, who was thus 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{May 25, 1833. 


ware of different sorts, and loaded with these, and selling 
them as they went along, he and Stephen Rutland ven- 
tured far to the north of the island. All this was done 
to learn their way to the coast through this most difficult 
country, where there were few or no paths, complicated 
forests, wild ravines, and jealous guards of Cingalese 
soldiers at every pass of ingress or egress. ‘The northern 
side was preferred by them, as it was supposed to pre- 
sent somewhat less difficulty than any other direction. 
The low country to which they directed their steps 
was subject to drought, and the very worst species of dis- 
ease, arising from standing waters. ‘They were obliged 
to drink fetid water, so thick and muddy, that the very 
filth would hang to their beards; and year after year 
they returned thence to Elledat with violent fevers and 
agues, “insomuch,” says Robert, “ that our countrymen 
and neighbours used to ask us if we went thither pur- 


‘posing to destroy ourselves, they little thinking, and we 


_. THE ITALIAN WOLF-DOG. ~ 


a 
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not daring to tell them, our intent and design.” 
[To be continued.] 


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reared. A goat is the best animal for this purpose, being 
easily domesticated, very docile, and disposed to an attach- 
ment for its foster child: the animal hes down, and the 


child ‘soon’ knows it well, and, when able, makes great 


efforts:to creep away to it and suck. Abroad the goat is” 
much used for this purpose ; the inhabitants of some village: 
take in children to nurse; the goats, when called, trot away 
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eagerness, andthe children thrive amazingly.—Gooch’s 


' 
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Lectures. 






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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Kn 
59 


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_ LONDON <—-CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Printed by WitLiam CLowss, Stamford Street,’ 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





April 


74.1] 





. THE WHAL 


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TuHE animal popularly known by the name of the whale. 
is, at least in its more remarkable varieties, not only: 


what Milton calls the Leviathan in one -passage,—that 
sea-beast . ? 
which God of all his works 

Created hugest that swim the ocean stream ;”— 
but the “ hugest of living creatures,” as the same poet 
elsewhere describes the monster mentioned in scripture, 





thus giving it the precedence over even ‘“ Behemoth, | 
There is no reason to ‘imagine 


biggest born of earth.” 
that any creature ever trod the land approaching to the 
maguitude of this sovereign of the deep. The.common 
Greenland whale (Balena mysticetus) is not unusually 
98 or 60 feet in length, by 30 or 40 in circumference. 
This implies a weight of about seventy tons, being equal 
to that of two hundred fat oxen. ‘The love of the 
marvellous, not satisfied with these enormous dimen- 
sions, has indeed propagated stories of whales of much 
larger size. Many naturalists have spoken of such as 
had attained their full growth measuring sometimes 
150 or 200 feet; and some of the older writers assure 
us, that specimens have been seen of above 900 feet 
in length: but these statements are, undoubtedly, wild 
and ignorant exaggerations. Referring to the Balena 
ane Captain Scoresby informs us, that of three 
OL, Al. 


30 to May 31, 1833. 








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hundred -and twenty-two individuals, in the capture of 
-which he had been personally concerned, no one, he 
believes, exceeded 60 feet in length. A few instances 
may have‘occurred in which eight or ten feet more had 
been attained ;* but there is no evidence that the animal 
was ever seen of a greater length than 70 feet. Sixty feet 
is the length commonly assigned to it even by the older 
writers, when they speak from their own observation. 

' There is, however, another variety, the Balena phy- 
salis of Linneus, or that known by the name of Razor- 
back among the whalers, which reaches a larger size, 
being sometimes found 100 or 105 feet long. “It is 
probably,” as Captain Scoresby remarks, ‘“ the most 
powerful and bulky of created beings.” The Razor- 
back, however, which derives its name from a small 
horny protuberance or fin running along the ridge of 
the back, is no great favourite with the whale-fishers, 
being both more active and difficult to capture than the 
common or what they call the right fish, and, very far 
from being so valuable a prize when obtained. 

In the present state of zoological information natu- 
ralists have been only able to determine two species of 
whale, that of the north, and that-of the south. These 
species were for a long time confounded; and their 
differences were first pointed out by M. Delalande. 

2D 


202 


These distinctions are; not sufficiently important to be 
noticed here. The following description of the northern 
or Greenland whale will apply to the southern, in all 
essential points. The Asiatic and African elephants are 
each in the same manner remarkable for such differences 
of structure, particularly in the form of the head, which 
are sufficient to constitute distinct species. 

The whale is popularly considered as a fish; but, 
except that it lives in the water, it has little or no 
similarity to the class of animals properly so designated. 
It is viviparous, that is to say, it brings forth its young, 
not enclosed in an egg, but alive and full formed; it 
has usually but one at a time, which it suckles with milk 
drawn from its teats. It is therefore considered as be- 
longing to the class of the Mammals, the same under 
which man is comprehended. It is also, like man, 
a warm-blooded animal; the blood, however, being of 
considerably higher temperature than in the human 
species. Finally, it is provided, like the human being, 
with lungs, and can only breathe by putting its head out 
of the water. i 

The skin of the whale is dark-coloured, smooth, and 
without scales. Its form in the middle part is cylin- 
drical, from which it gradually tapers towards the tail. 
This part of the animal is usually only five or six feet in 
length; but its width, or extent from right to left, its 
position being horizontal, or flat upon the water, is 
sometimes twenty-five or twenty-six feet. ‘The power of 
this bony fan, as we shall have occasion more particu- 
larly to notice in the sequel, is prodigious. It is the 
instrument by which the animal principally makes its 
way through the water, and also its most effective weapon 
of defence. Towards the head it likewise possesses two 
fins, or swimming paws, as they have been termed, 
attached to the under part of the belly; but the chief 
use of these seems to be to balance it, or keep it steady, 
as it moves along. About a third part of .its whole 
length is occupied by its enormous head, which is cleft 
in two by a mouth, the opening of. which extends to 
the neck. The head of the whale is the most peculiar 










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[May 38], 


and remarkable part of its structure. The species we 
are now describing, although it has both upper and 
lower jaws of porous bone, has no teeth, but in their 
room two fringes, as they may be called, consisting each 
ofa series of blades of an elastic substance covered on 
their interior edges with hair, attached to-the upper 


gum. This is the substance known by the name of 
whalebone. The blades are broadest at their upper 


extremity, where they are inserted in the gum, and are 
of greatest length in the middle of the series or row on 
each side of the mouth. The greatest length varies 
from ten to fifteen feet; and the breadth at the gum is 
usually, in a-full-grown fish, from ten to twelve inches. 
There are upwards of three hundred blades in each 
series, or side of bone, as the whale-fishers term it. The 
use of this part-of its structure to the animal is to serve 
as a net or sieve in which to collect its food. As it 
proceeds with distended jaws through the ocean, the 
water rushes through this sieve; but even the minutest 
living creatures are detained by it, and are made, in so 
many successive accumulations, to form mouthful after 
mouthful to the mighty destroyer. : 

The eyes of the whale are placed almost immediately 
above the corners of the mouth. ‘They are singularly 
disproportionate to the size of the animal, being scarcely 
larger than those ofan ox.: No trace of an ear is to be 
discerned till after the removal of the skin; and the 
hearing of the whale is accordingly very imperfect. On 
the most elevated part of the head are the nostrils or 
blow-holes, being two longitudinal apertures of six or 
eiht inches in length. Through these, when the creature 
breathes, a jet of moist vapour is snorted forth to the 
height of eighteen or twenty feet, and with a noise which 
may sometimes be heard at the distance of several miles. 

The open mouth of a whale is a capacious cavern, 
capable of containing a ship’s jolly-boat full of men. 
Captain Scoresby describes its dimensions as being com- 
monly six or eight feet wide, ten or twelve feet high in 
front, and fifteen or sixteen feet long. ‘The throat, 
however, is very narrow. : : 


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tijyype a 


Skeleton of the Whale. 


‘mere brute force to cope with the resources of art. Even 
the immense bulk and energies of the animal itself, that 


Such then is the enormous creature upon which man 
has undertaken to make war, undeterred by a disparity 
of size, strength, and all the elements of natural power. 
The whale fishery affords the most extraordinary exempli- 
fication of how inadequate is the mightiest endowment of 


. “ on the deep 
Stretched like a promontory sleeps or swims, 
And seems a moving land,” 





1833.] 


constitute the least formidable among the terrors of | 


this field of adventure. The desolate and inclement 
rerion, which is the scene -of enterprise, encompasses 
the pursuit with its worst hardships and dangers.. In 
this realm. of eternal winter, man finds the land, the 
sea, and the air equally inhospitable. Every thing 
fights against him. The intensest cold benumbs his 
flesh and joints; while fogs or driving sleet often 
darken the sky, and at the same time arm the frost 
with a keener tooth. The ocean over which he moves, 
besides its ordinary perils, is crowded with new and 
strange horrors. Sometimes the ice lies extended in 
fixed beds that bar all navigation as effectually as would 
a wall of iron, and over whose rugged and broken sur- 
face he can only make his way by leaping from point to 
point, at the risk of being ingulfed: at every step. 
Sometimes it bears down upon him in vast floating 
fields with such an impetus that, at the shock, the strong 
timbers of his ship crack and give way like an eggshell, 
or are crushed and ground to fragments between two 
meeting masses. Sometimes it rises before him in the 
shape of a lofty mountain, which the least change in the 
relative weights of the portion above and that beneath 
the surface of the water may bring in sudden ruin upon 
his head, burying crew and vessel beneath the tumbling 
chaos, or striking them far into the abyss. And as for 
what may be dimly distinguished to be land, rimming 
with its’ precipitous coasts these dreary waters, it may be 
most fitly described in the lines in which the poet has 
pictured one of the regions of the nether world :— 
- Beyond this flood, a frozen continent 
Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 
Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land 


Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 
Of ancient pile; or else deep snow and ice.” 


Almost the only vegetation that springs from this 
frost-bound soil is a scanty verdure, formed of mosses, 
lichens, and other low plants, that conceal themselves 
beneath the snow. At the farthest limit to which ad- 
venture has pierced, a night of four months’ duration 
closes each dismal year; throughout which humai: life 
has indeed been sustained by individuals previously 
inured to a severe climate, but the horrors of which have, 
in most of the instances in'which the dreadful experiment 
has been either voluntarily or involuntarily ‘tried ‘by the 
natives of more temperate regions, only driven the 
wretched ‘sufferers through a succession of the intensest 
bodily and mental tortures,’ and then laid them at rest 
in the sleep of death. 
From the narrative of the voyage of Ohthere the 
Dane, given by King Alfred, in his Saxon translation of 
Orosius, it would appear that the pursuit of the whale 
was practised by the people of ‘Norway at least as early 
as the ninth century. Other northern authorities bear 
testimony to the same fact. Of the manner, however, in 
which the whale fishery was carried on at this remote era 
we know nothing. It probably was not pursued on any 
systematic plan, but merely in the way of occasional en- 
counters, as the hunting of wild animals on land would 
he practised in the same state of society. The inhabitants 
of the coast surrounding the Bay of Biscay seem to have 
been the first whe engaged in whale fishing with a view 
to commercial purposes. They are therefore properly 
to be considered the originators of thé pursuit: asa branch 
of national enterprise. ‘Their prosecution of it in the 
adjacent seas can be traced back as far as the twelfth 
century. ‘The animal against which they directed their 
attacks, however, was most probably of a different spe- 
ciés from that found in the northern ocean, and of a 
much smaller size. It seems to have been captured 
principally, if not exclusively; for the sake of its flesh, 
which was in those days esteemed as au article of food, 
the tongue especially being accounted a great delicacy. 
By degrees, however, the number of whales that re- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


» —s sane —~ ee 


203 


sorted to the Bay of Biscay diminished, and at leneth 
the fish altogether ceased to visit that sea. In thesé 
circumstances the Biscayan mariners carried the navi: 
gation farther and farther from their own shores, till at 
last they approached the coasts of Iceland, Greenland, 
and Newfoundland. Thus was commenced, in the course 
of the sixteenth century, the northern whale fishery, as 
pursued in modern times. 

The earliest whaling voyage made by the English 
appears to have taken place in the year 1594. The 
merchants of Hull are recorded to have fitted out ships 
for the fishery in 1598; and much about the same 
time the Dutch engaged in the trade. The Ham- 
burghers, the French, and the Danes quickly followed. 
At first both in England and Holland the business was 
carried on by companies which had obtained charters 
for its exclusive prosecution. At length, however, it was 
thrown open in both countries to individual enterprise, 
under which new system it was found to be conductéd 
with much more success and profit. The Dutch mono- 
poly was put an end to in 1642; the English not till 
long afterwards. In this country, indeed, the trade was 
in the hands of an exclusive company till about a century 
ago. Up to that date it had in general been attended | 
only with loss to each successive association that enraged 
In it. 

In 1732 parliament first adopted the plan of attempting 
to encourage and establish the trade, by giving a bounty 
to every ship which should engage in it. The bounty 
was at first twenty shillings a ton; but it was raised 
in'1749 to double that rate, upon which, says a late. 
writer, “a number of ships were fitted out, as much 
certainly in the intention of catching the bouuty, as of 
catching fish.” The bounty, which was afterwards re 
duced to thirty shillings, again raised to its former ainount, 
and subsequently reduced first to thirty shillings, then to 
twenty-five shillings, and after that to twenty shillings, 
was at last altogether withdrawn in 1824. ‘The trade is 
at present, therefore, carried on without any artificial 
support. ‘The Americans, Hamburghers, and Prussians 
are now almost the only competitors with whom the 
English whalers have to contend. ‘The F'rench revolu- 
tion, and the wars by which it was followed, drove 
both France and Holland from the field; and neither of 
these countries -have succeeded in the attempts they 
have made since the peace, to re-enter upon a line of 
enterprise, their pursuit of which had been so long inter- 
rupted, . | 

Having thus hastily gianced at the .past history and 
progress of the fishery,-we may now transfer ourselves to 
the scene of actual operations, and accompany the bold 
and hardy adventurers in some of their labours and 
dangers. 

‘The whale ships, which are for the most part vessels 
of from three hundred to four hundred tons burden, 
commonly leave this country in time to reach Shetland, 
where they complete their ballast and layin part of their 
stock by about the Ist of April, and to get thence to the 
ice, so as to commence fishing about the middle or in 
the latter part of May. Of late years, however, the 
season, which used formerly to terminate in July, has 
been occasionally somewhat extended both at its com- 
mencement and its. close,—fish being low frequently 
sought for with success as early as April, and as late as 
September, and even October. The place in which the 
fishing is chiefly carried on has also been changed within 
these few years. So recently as 1820, when Captain 
Scoresby’s book was published, the greater number of 
ships still resorted to the part of the Arctic Ocean on the 
east coast of Greenland; but that sea is now almost, if 
not entirely deserted, having been, in fact, nearly ex- 
hausted of its fish, just as the Bay of Biscay was some 
ceuturies ago. Almost all the ships now proceed di- 
rectly through Davis’ Straits to- the oe ae sea, 

2 De 


204 


called Baffin’s Bay, on the other side of Greenland, the 
more northern portion of which, and the outlets from it, 
were for the first-time explored, in the course of the late 
voyages made with a view to the discovery of a north- 
west passage to India. In these high latitudes whales 
still exist in large numbers; but from the greater pre- 
valence of ice-mountains or ice-bergs, as they are called, 
the fishery in Baffin’s Bay is probably still more perilous 
than that was which used to be carried on in the animal's 
' more ancient haunt. | : 

The whale trade has also been gradually shifting from 
the ports in this country which formerly enjoyed the 
ereatest share of it. Upto about the year 1790, London 
continued to send out four times the number of ships that 
sailed from any other place. Even in 1820 the capital 
still had seventeen or eighteen vessels engaged in the 
trade. At present we believe this number is reduced to 
one, or two at most.: Liverpool, in like manner, after 
having for some time carried on the trade to a consider- 
able extent, has now entirely relinquished it. - Whitby, 
also, which sixty or seventy years ago was largely en- 
gaged in it, now sends out only one or twoships. Hull 
is now the principal whale-fishing port in Britain, and 
has been so since the commencement of the present 
century. ~ In 1830-that town sent out thirty-three ships. 
Peterhead, on the east coast of Scotland, ranks next to 
Hull, having that year sent out thirteen ships. Next to 
them are Aberdeen, Dundee, Leith, and Kirkaldy.. In 
Peterhead, and most of the other Scotch ports, the trade 
is on the increase. 

The whale, as we have already noticed, appears to 
have been pursued at first chiefly for the sake of its flesh. 
Afterwards the hiehly elastic substance, described before, 
with which its jaws are lined, formed one of the principal 
commercial objects on account of which it was valued. 
‘‘ How the ladies’ stays were made, gravely observes 
Anderson, the historian of commerce, ‘ before this com- 
modious material was found out, does not appear; it is 
probable that slit pieces of cane, or of some tough and 
pliant wood, might have been in use before.” However 
this may be,*°whalebone after its introduction speedily 
came to-be the material universally employed in the 
fabrication of stays, and also of the hoop-petticoat, which 
came into: fashion about the beginning of the last 
century ; that ‘““seven-fold fence,’ as Pope calls it— 


Stiff with hoops and armed with ribs of whale.” 


So great was the consumption of the article thus occa- 
sioned that for some time the Dutch are stated to have 
drawn for it from England £100,000 per annum. Its 
price was then £700 per ton, which is about four times 
as much as it now commonly brings, and more than 


eight times what it brought only a few years ago. But 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


— 


[May 3], 


‘the part of the whale which gives the chief value to the 


fish is what is called its blubber, being the substance from 
which train oil is obtained. - This substance, which is 
really the fat of the animal, lies immediately under the ~ 
skin, encompassing the whole body, fins, and tail. ‘‘Its 
colour,” says Captain Scoresby, “is yellowish-white, 
yellow, or red.© In the very young animal it is always 
yellowish-white. In some old animals it resembles the 
colour ofthe salmon. It swims in water. Its thickness all 
round the body is eight, or ten, or twenty inches, varying 
in different parts as well as in different individuals. The 
lips are composed almost entirely of blubber, and yield 
from one to two tons of pure oil each. The tongue is 
chiefly composed of a soft kind of fat, that affords less 
oil than any other blubber. The blubber, in 
its fresh state, is without any unpleasant smell ; and it is 
not until after the termination of the voyage, when the 
cargo is unstowed, that a Greenland ship becomes dis- 
agreeable.” ‘The price of oil has varied during the last 
twenty years from £25 to £60 per ton; but of late 
has not usually exceeded £30. 

A Greenland ship, besides a master and surgeon, 
eenerally carries a crew of forty or fifty men, comprising 
several classes of officers, such as harpooners, boat- 
steerers, line-managers, carpenters, coopers, &c. She is 
commonly provided with six or seven boats, which, as 
affording the principal means by which the fishery is 
to be carried on, are hung round her in such a manner 
as to admit of being detached and launched with the 
ereatest possible expedition. After the whale is killed 
and cut up, the bone and blubber are stowed in the ship ; 
but the attack upon the animal and all the operations of 
its capture and destruction are carried on in the boats. 
The chief instruments with which every boat is provided 
are two harpoons and six or eight Jances. These 
weapons are represented in the wood-cut below. ‘The 
harpoon is made wholly of iron, and is about three feet 
in length. It consists of a shank with a barbed head, 
each barb, or wither, as it is called, having an inner and ~ 
smaller barb in a reverse position. ‘This instrument is 
attached by the shank to a line or rope of about two inches 
and a quarter in circumference, and 120 fathoms in 
leneth. Each boat is furnished with six of these lines, 
making in all 720 fathoms, or 4320 feet. ‘I'he use of 
the harpoon, which is commonly projected from the 
hand, but sometimes from a sort of gun, is merely to 
strike and hook the fish. It is by the lance -that its 
destruction is accomplished. ‘This is a spear of the 
leneth of six feet, consisting principally of a stock or 
handle of fir fitted with a steel head, which is made very 
thin and exceedingly sharp. The lance is not flung 
from the hand like the harpoon, but held fast as it is 
thrust into the body of the animal. 





A. The Harpoon. 


We will now quote a few passages from Captain 
Scoresby’s animated description of the process of the 
capture and slaughter. ‘* Whenever a whale lies on the 
surface of the water, unconscious of the approach of its 
enemies, the hardy fisher rows directly upon it, and an 
instant before the boat touches it, buries his harpoon in its 
back. . + .. The wounded whale, in the surprise and 
agony of the moment, makes a convulsive effort to escape. 


Then is the moment of danger. ‘The boat is subjected 


B. The Lance, 


to the most violent blows from its head, or its fins, but 
particularly from its ponderous tail, which sometimes 
sweeps the air with such tremendous fury that both boat 
and men are exposed to one common destruction.” ‘The 
whale on being struck immediately dives down into the 
water with great velocity. It appears, from the line 
which it draws out, that it goes down at the rate of 
eight or ten miles an hour. ‘The moment,” continues 
Captain Scoresby, ‘‘ that the wounded whale disappears, 





1833.] 


or leaves the boat, a jack or flag, elevated on a staff, is 
displayed, on sight of which, those .on watch in the ship 
gje the alarm, by stamping on the deck, accompanied 
by asimultaneous and continued shout of ‘a fall.’ (This 
seems to be a Dutch term, meaning a jump or leap.) 
At the sound of this the sleeping crew are roused, jump 
from their beds, rush upon deck, with their clothes tied 
by a string in their hands, and crowd into the boats. 
With a temperature at zero, should a fall occur, the 
crew would appear upon deck, shielded only by their 
drawers, stockings, and shirts, or other habiliments in 
which they sleep. . . . The alarm of ‘a fall’ has a 
singular effect on the feelings of a sleeping person, 
unaccustomed to the whale-fishing business. It has 
often been’ mistaken asa cry of distress. A landsman, 
in a Hull ship, seeing the crew, on an occasion of a fall, 
rush upon deck, with their clothes in their hands, and 
leap into the boats, when there was no appearance of 
danger, thought the men were all mad.” In other cases, 
the author states, the extraordinary noise and tumult 
has excited the apprehension that the ship was sinking. 
““A yecent instance,’ says the writer of an account of 
the Northern Whale Fishery, in the first volume of 
the Edinburgh Cabinet Library, “has even beeri men- 
tioned to us, in which the panic was so extreme that it 
was speedily followed by death.”’ | | 

- The rapidity with which the line is drawn out by the 
whale, occasions so much friction as it passes over the 
edge of the boat as frequently to envelope the harpooner 
in smoke; and it is only by pouring water upon the 
wood that it is prevented from catching fire. Fre- 
quently also the whole line in the first boat is run out 
before another has arrived. When this result seems 
approaching, the crew raise first one oar, then a second, 
a third, and sometimes even a fourth, in proportion to 
the degree of the exigence. If the line at any time runs 
foul and cannot be instantly cleared, it will draw the 
boat under water, on which the only chance the crew 
often have of saving their lives, is to catch hold each of 
an oar and to leap into the sea. The utmost care is 
requisite on the part of every person in the boat to 
avoid being entangled in the line as it is drawn out, 
Scoresby mentions an instance in which a man having 
chanced to slip his foot through a coil, the line drew 
him forward to the boat's stern, and then snapped off 
his foot by the ankle. The following is another anecdote 
which he gives. “A harpooner belonging to the Hen- 
rietta of Whitby, when engaged in lancine a whale into 
which he had previously struck a harpoon, iticautiously 
cast a little line under his feet that he had just hauled 
into his boat, after it had been drawn out by the fish. 
A painful stroke of his lance induced the whale to dart 
suddenly downward, his line began to run out from 
beneath his feet, and in an instant caueht him by a turn 
round his body. He had but just time to cry out ‘ Clear 
away the line’ —‘O dear!’ when he was almost cut. 
asunder, dragged overboard, and never seen afterwards. 
The line was cut at the moment, but without avail.” 

The fish generally remains about half an hour, but 
sometimes a good deal longer, under water, after being 
struck ;.and then, it often rises at a considerable dis- 
tance from the spot from which it had made ‘its descent. 
‘Immediately that it re-appears,”’ continues Captain 
Scoresby, “the assisting boats make for the place with 
their utmost speed, and as they reach it, each harpooner 
plunges his harpoon into its back, to the amount of three, 
four, or more, according to the size of the whale and the 
nature of the situation. Most frequently, however, it 
descends for a few minutes after receiving the second 
harpoon, and obliges the other boats to await its return 
to the surface, before any further attack can be made. It 
is afterwards actively plied with lances, which are thrust 
into its body, aiming at its vitals. At length, when 


exhausted by numerous wounds and the loss of blood. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


which flows from the huge animal in ¢ 


205 


he opious streams, it 
indicates the approach of its dissolution by discharging 


from its blow-holes a mixture of blood along with the 
air and mucus which it usually expires, and finally jets 
of blood alone. ° The sea to a great extent around js 
dyed with its blood, and the ice, boats, and men are 
sometimes drenched with the same. Its track is like 
wise marked by a broad pellicle-of oil, which exudes 
from its wounds, and appears on the surface of the sea. 
Its final capture is sometimes preceded by a convulsive 
and energetic struggle, in which its tail, reared, whirled, 
and violently jerked in the air, resounds to the distance 
of miles. In dying, it turns on its back or on its side; 
which joyful circumstance is announced by the capturers 
with the striking of their flags, accompanied with three 
lively huzzas !’’ 

_ The ‘exhaustion which the whale exhibits on returning 
to the surface after its first plunge is to be attributed 
to the immense pressure it has sustained from the 
water at the great depth to which it had descended. 
At the depth of 800 fathoms, as Captain Scoresby cal- 
culates, this pressure must be equal to 211,200 tons. 
“This,” he remarks, “ is a degree of pressure of which 
we can have but an imperfect conception. It may assist 
our comprehension, however, to be informed that ‘it 
exceeds in weight sixty of the largest ships of the Bri- 
tish Navy, when manned, provisioned, and fitted for a 
six months’ cruise.” 

A whale has been sometimes captured and killed in 
little more than a quarter of an hour—and instances on 
the other hand have occurred in which the contest has 
lasted for forty or fifty hours. ‘The average time occu- 
pied in favourable circumstances, according to Scoresby, 
may be stated at about an hour. The general average 
inay probably be two or three hours. But it not unfre- 
quently happens that after the exertions of many hours 
the fish makes its escape and is lost. Our author relates 
an extraordinary case of a whale struck on the 25th of 
June, 1812, by one of the harpooners belonging to the 
Resolution of Whitby, then under his command, which 
after a long chase broke off, and took with it a boat 
and twenty-eight lines, the united leneth of which was 
6,720 yards, or upwards of three English miles and 
three-quarters. The value of the property thus lost was 
above one hundred and fifty pounds sterling ; and the 
weight of the lines above thirty-five hundred-weight. 
They soon after, however, again got sight of the animal 
near two miles off, and immediately re-engaged in the 
pursuit. ‘They came up with it by great exertions about 
rine miles from the place where it was first struck. The 
attack was now renewed. ‘* One of the harpooners,”’ 
continues Captain Scoresby, “ made a blunder; the fish 
saw the boat, took the alarm, and again fled. I now 
supposed it would be seen no more; nevertheless we 
chased nearly a mile.in the direction I imagined it had 
taken, and placed the bouts, to the best of my judgment, 
in the most advantageous situations. In this case we 
were extremely fortunate. The fish rose near one 
of the boats, and was immediately harpooned. Ina 
few minutes two more harpoons entered its back, and 
lances were plied against it with vigour and success. 
Exhausted by its amazing exertions to escape, it yielded 
itself at leneth to its fate, received the piercing wounds 
of the lances without resistance, and finally died without 
a struggle. Thus terminated with success, an attack 
upon a whale, which exhibited the most uncommon deter- 
mination to escape from its pursuers, seconded by the most 
amazing strength, of any individual whose capture I ever 
witnessed.’ After all it may seem surprising that it was 
not a particularly large individual; the largest lamina of 
whalebone only measuring nine feet six inches, while 
those affording twelve feet bone are not uncommon. 
The quantity of line withdrawn from the different boats 
engaged in the capture was singularly great, It 


206 


amounted altogether to 10,440 yards, or nearly six 
English miles. Of these thirteen new lines were lost, 
together with the sunken boat; the harpoon connecting 


them to the fish having dropt out before the whale was. 


killed.” There had been eight boats in all engaged in 
this extraordinary chase. 
Of the dangers sometimes occasioned by the resis- 
tance of the whale, or its efforts to retaliate upon its 
assailants, Captain Scoresby re'ates various instances. 
It has happened that the harpooner has been struck 
dead in an instant by a blow from the animal’s tail. 
At other times the stroke has fallen upon the boat and 
jerked the crew out of it into the water. “A large 
whale,’ says our author, “harpooned from a boat be- 
longing to the same ship (the Resolution of Whitby) 
became the subject of a general chase on the 23d of 
June, 1809. Being myself in the first boat which ap- 


proached the fish, I struck my harpoon at arm's length, 


by which we fortunately evaded a blow that appeared 
to be aimed at the boat. Another boat then advanced, 
and another harpoon was struck; but not with the same 
result; for the stroke was immediately returned by a 
tremendous blow from the fish’s tail. The boat was 
sunk by the shock, and at the same time Whirled round 
with such velocity, that the boat-steerer was precipitated 
into the water, on the side next to the fish, and was acci- 
dentally carried down to a considerable depth by its tail. 
After a minute or so he arose to the surface of the water 
and was taken up along with his companions into my 
boat. A similar attack was made on the next boat 
which came up ; but the harpooner being warned of the 
prior conduct of the fish, used such precautions, that the 
blow, though equal in strength, took effect only in an 
inferior degree. ‘The boat was slightly stove. The 
activity and skill of the lancers soon overcame this 
designing whale, accomplished its capture, and added its 
produce to the cargo of the ship.” 

Such intentional mischief, Captain Scoresby remarks, 
on the part of a whale as seems to have been displayed 
in this instance, is not frequent. It is probable, indeed, 
that nothing properly deserving the name of an intention 
to inflict injury can justly be attributed to the animal in 
any circumstances ; these violent movements are merely 
the convulsions either of agony, or of trepidation and 
Intense fear. With all its enormous physical strength 
the whale is singularly gentle and harmless—so re- 
markably so indeed that it has been characterized by 
those who have had the best opportunities of observing 
it as a stupid animal. It: would require better proof, 
however, we think, than the mere absence of ferocity to 
make out this conclusion. ‘There are some circum- 
stances which would rather seem to show that the creature 
is possessed of considerable sagacity. It exhibits the usual 
instinctive sense of danger when it perceives the approach 
of its natural enemy, man; and, both before and after 
it has been struck with the harpoon, it most commonly 
adopts the very best expedients open to it to give itself a 
chance of escape. Ifa field of ice be near, for instance, 
it makes for the water under it, whither it cannot be 
followed by the boat ; and even when it tries to release 
itself merely by a precipitate plunge downwards into the 
sea, it would be difficult to say how it could act more 
wisely with a view to snap the line to whieh it has got 
attached. If the effort were not met on the part of the 
crew in the boat with the most energetic application of 
those various resources of art, dexterity, and de- 
cision, which are peculiarly at the command of man, 
it would probably be in every ease successful. If 
it be the fact, also, as is asserted, that the whales 
of the North Seas have abandoned certain parts of 
their orginal domain, which are more accessible 
to the fishing-vessels, and retired to other situations 
which are more difficult of approach; this would: seem 


toimply, not only something of reflection and contrivance | 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[May 31 


in individuals, but almost the possession of a power in 
the species to transmit the results of experience from one 
veneration to another. But be this as it may, if the 
whale should not be allowed to be a very intellectual 
animal, its affections, at least, towards its own kind, 
appear to be deep-seated and strong. ‘The fishers, 
indeed, are in the habit of taking advantage of the love 
of the old whale for its offspring, to entice it into their 
snares; and the artifice often succeeds when, probably, 
no other would. The cub, though of little value in 
itself, is struck, to induce the mother to come to 
its assistance. ‘In this case,’’. says Captain Scoresby, 
‘« she joins it at the surface of the water, whenever it has 
occasion to rise for respiration; encourages it to swim 
off; assists its flight, by taking it under her fin; and 
seldom deserts it while life remains. She is then dan- 


serous to approach; but affords frequent opportunities. 


for attack. She loses all regard for her own safety, in 
anxiety for the preservation of her young ;—dashes 
through the midst of her enemies ;—despises the danger 
that threatens her ;—and even voluntarily remains with 
her offspring, after various attacks’ on herself from the 
harpoons of the fishers.’ In June 1811, one of my har- 
pooners struck a sucker, with the hope of its leading to 
the capture of the mother. Presently she arose close by 
the ‘ fast-boat ;) and seizing the young one, dragged 
about a hundred fathoms of line out of the boat with 
remarkable force and velocity. Again she arose to the 
surface ; darted furiously to and fro; frequently stopped 
short, or suddenly changed her direction, and gave every 
possible intimation of extreme agony. For a length of 
time she continued thus to act, though closely pursued 
by the boats; and, inspired with courage and resolution 
by her concern for her offspring, seemed regardless of 
the danger which surrounded her. At length, one of 
the boats approached so near, that a harpoon was hove 
at her. It hit, but did not attach itself. A second har- 
poon was struck; this also failed to penetrate: but a 
third was more effectual, and held. Still she did not 
attempt to escape, but allowed other boats to appreach ; 
so that, in «a few minutes, three more harpoons were 
fastened ; and, in the course of an hour afterwards, she 
was killed.” 

In some instances, the boat, instead of being struck 
into the water, has met with the equally alarming fate 
of being projected by a stroke of the powerful animal's 
head or tail into the air. The following remarkable 
instance of this is given by Captain Scoresby. 

“Captain Lyons, of the Raith of Leith,” says our 
author, ‘‘ while prosecuting the whale fishery on the 
Labrador coast, in the season of 1802, discovered a 
large whale ata short distance from the ship. Four 
boats were despatched in pursuit, and two of them suc- 
ceeded in approaching it so closely together; that two 
harpoons were struck at the same moment. ‘The fish 
descended a few fathoms in the direction of another of 
the boats, which was on the advance, rose accidentally 
beneath it, struck it with its head, and threw the boat, 


‘men, and apparatus about fifteen feet into the afr. It 


was inverted by the stroke, and fell into the water with 
its keel upwards. All the people were picied up alive 


-by the fourth boat, which was just at hand, excepting 


one man, who, having got entangled in the boat, fell 
beneath it, and was unfortunately drowned. The fish 
was afterwards killed.’ The wood-cut in page 208 is 
copied from an engraved sketch of this singular accident, 
which Scoresby has given after an original drawine by 
James Waddel, Esq. 

In the early days of the whale fishery, when the fish 
were found in great numbers immediately around the 
shores of Spitzbergen, the Dutch formed a settlement on 
that island, and performed there all the operations of 
preparing the bone and extracting the oil from the blub- 
ber. ‘Toso flourishing an extent was the fishery at this 





1833.) 


time (the latter part of the seventeenth century) carried 
on by that nation, that they actually erected a village on 
this desolate coast, all the houses of which were brought 
ready prepared from Holland. They gave it the name 
of Smeerenberg (from Smeeren, to melt). ‘*'This,”’ says 
Mr. Macculloch, ‘was the grand rendezvous of the 
Dutch whale ships, and was amply provided with boilers, 
tanks, and every sort of apparatus required for preparing 
the oil and the bone. But this was not all. The whale 
fleets were attended by a number of provision ships, 
the cargoes of which were landed at Smeerenberg ;_ which 
abounded during the busy season with well-furnished 
ships, good inns, &c., so that many of the conveniences 
and enjoyments of Amsterdam were found within eleven 
degrees of the pole! It is particularly mentioned, that 
the sailors and others were every morning supplied with 
what a Dutchman regards as a very great luxury—hoé 
rolls for breakfast. Batavia and Smeerenberg were 
founded nearly at the same period, and it was for a 
considerable time doubted whether the latter was not 
the most important establishment.” 

When the whales, however, at length entirely aban- 
doned this neighbourhood, and were not to be found 
within a distance of about two thousand miles, Smee- 
renberg was deserted. The exact spot where it stood is 
now a matter of doubt. Since then the only operation 
performed upon the whale in its native region after its 
capture, has been the process called flensing, that is, 
the clearing the carcass of its bone and blubber. This 
is effected by bringing the dead animal alongside the 
ship, and, after it has been secured there, sending down 
the men upon it, having their feet secured witli spurs, 
to prevent them from slipping, who by means of knives 
and otker proper instruments cut off the blubber in slips. 
After one side has been cleared there is a contrivance for 
turning the fish over upon the other. The blubber is 
received from the flensers by the boat-steerers and line- 
managers, who, after dividing it into smaller pieces, hand 
it over to two men called kings, by whom it is finally de- 
posited in the ship’s hold. While this process is-going 
on, various birds of prey attend in great numbers, and 


bears and sharks are also at no great distance, ready to fall 


upon the remainder of the carcass before it sinks into the 
deep. ‘The operation of flensing is commonly performed 
by British fishers in about four hours. Even this part of 
the business, although the struggle with the living animal 
is now over, is far from being without its perils. 
“ Flensing in a swell,’ says Captain Scoresby, “is a 
most difficult and dangerous undertaking ; and when the 
swell is at all considerable, it is commonly impracticable. 
No ropes or blocks are capable of bearing the jerk of the 
sea. ‘he harpooners are annoyed by the surf, and 
repeatedly drenched in water; and are likewise subject 
to be wounded by the breaking of ropes or hooks of 
tackles, and even by strokes from each other’s knives. 
Hence accidents in this kind of flensing, in particular, 
are not uncommon. The harpooners not unfrequently 
fall into the fish’s mouth, when it 1s exposed by the 
removal of a surface of blubber; where they might 
easily be drowned, but for the prompt assistance which 
is always at hand. Some ‘years ago I was witness of a 
circumstance, in which a harpooner was exposed to the 
most imminent risk of his life, at the conclusion of a 
flensing process, by a very curious accident. This 


harpooner stood om one of the jawbones of the fish, 


with a boat by his side. In this situation, while he was 
in the act of cutting the kreng (the skeleton) adrift, a 
boy inadvertently struck the point of the boat-hook, 
with which he usually held the boat, through the ring of 
the harpooner’s spur; and, in the same act, seized the 
jawbone of the fish with the hook of the same instrument. 
Before this was discovered, the kreng was set at liberty, 
and began instantly to sink. The harpooner then 
threw himself towards the boat; but being firmly 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


207 


entangled ‘by the foot, he fell into the water. 
dentially, he caught the gunwale of the boat with his 
hands ;_ but, overpowered by the force of the sinkine 
kreng, he was on the point of relinquishing his erasp, 
when some of his companions got hold of his aan 
while others threw a rope round his body. ‘The carcass 
of the fish was now suspended entirely by the poor 
fellow’s body, which was, consequently, so dreadfully 
extended, that there was some danger of his being drawn 
asunder. But such was his terror of being taken under 
water, and not indeed without cause, for he could nevey 
have risen again, that notwithstanding the excruciatine 
pain he suffered, he constantly cried out to his com- 
panions to ‘ haul away the rope.’. He remained in this 
dreadful state until means were adopted for hooking the 
kreng with a grapnel, and drawing it back to the surface 
of the water. His escape was singularly providential : 
for, had he not caught hold of the boat as he was sinking, 
and met with such prompt assistance, he must infallibly 
have perished.” 

Our space will not permit us to pursue this part 
of our subject to greater length, or to enter upon any 
details respecting the terrible dangers and sufferings 
which the frequenters of those inhospitable seas have 
often encountered when the ice, closing in upon them, or 
dashing their ships in pieces, has left them no place 
even of temporary refuge, except on its own rugged 
surface, and apparently shut them out from all the 
chances of ultimate deliverance. The annals of the 
whale fishery abound in such narratives; many of which 
are of absorbing interest. 

We shall conclude with a few notices of the present 
state and prospects of the British whale fishery, con- 
sidered in a commercial point of view. For the par- 
ticulars we are about to mention we are principally 
indebted to Mr. Macculloch’s Dictionary of Commerce, 
and to tle volume we have already mentioned of 
the Edinburgh Cabinet Library, the third edition of 
which, published not many months ago, contains, we 
believe,.the latest account of the fishery that has yet 
appeared. 

According to Captain Scoresby, the average quantity 
of shipping fitted out for this trade for the nine years 
ending with 1818, in all the English ports, namely, 
Hull, London, Whitby, Newcastle, Liverpool, Berwick, 
Grimsby, and Lynn, was 91% vessels ; and in the Scotch 
ports, namely, Aberdeen, Leith, Dun-“"2, Peterhead, 
Montrose, Banff, Greenock, Kirkaldy, and Kirkwall, 404. 
In- 1830° the former quantity had diminished to 41; 
while the latter had only increased to 50. Upon the 
whole therefore there has been a falling off in the course 
of twelve years to the extent of about 30 per cent. 
The season of 1830 was one of the most disastrous ever 
known since the commencement of the fishery. Of the 
ninety-one vessels which sailed nineteen were entirely 
lost ; as many more returned clean, or without a single 
fish ; seventeen brought only one fish each; and of the 
others -many had only two or three. The actual loss 
incurred from the shipwrecks, and the severe injuries 
sustained by twelve other vessels, is calculated to have 
amounted to about £143,000. Both oil and whalebone 
immediately rose to more than double their former 
price ; but still the whole produce of the fishery of 
this year did not amount, according to the highest 
estimate, to more than £155,565; while that of 1829 
was reckoned at £376,150. The season of 1831 was 
also unfortunate, though not to the same extent; three of 
the vessels having’ suffered shipwreck. The produce as 
compared with that of the preceding year was, in oil 
4800 tons in place of 2205, and of bone 230 tons in 
place of 119. But in 1829 there had been obtained 
10,672 tons of oil, and 607 tons of bone; and in 1828, 
of oil 13,966 tons, and of bone 802 tons. The value of 


Provi- 


the whole produce of the fishery of 1831, when oil had 


208 


fallen from £50 to £30, and whalebone from £380 to 
£200, was estimated only at £190,000. The season of 
1832 was considered prosperous. 

It would be unfair, however, to judge of the value of 
the trade entirely from these two years. “ ‘The British 
fishery,” it is remarked by the writer in the Edinburgh 
Cabinet Library, “ has lately yielded a produce and 
value much exceeding that of the Dutch, even during the 
period of its greatest prosperity. In the five years ending 
with 1818, there were imported into England and Scot- 
land 68,940 tons of oil, and 3,420 tons of whalebone ; 
which, valuing the oil at £36 10s. and the bone at £90, 
with £10,000 in skins, raised the entire product to 
£2,834,110 sterling, or £566,822 per annum. ‘The 
fishery of 1814, a year peculiarly fortunate, produced 
1437 whales from Greenland, yielding’ 12,132 tons of 
oil, which, even at the lower rate of £32, including the 
whalebone and bounty, and added to the produce from 
Davis’ Straits, formed altogether a value of above 
£700,000.” ‘ 

‘These, however, it is to be remembered, were the 
days .of the bounty, which it is calculated cost the 
nation, from 1750 to 1824, upwards of two millions and 
a half. When we strike the account of national profits, 
therefore, resulting from this source, a deduction must 
be made from the apparent returns to the amount of that 


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[May 31, 1833. 


large outlay. But there are various considerations be- 
sides those already noticed, which seem to forbid us to 
indulge any expectation that the whale fishery can be 
long maintained as a great branch of national industry. 
Nearly every other people which has engaged in it has, 
in course of time, been withdrawn -from it by circum- 
stances, or abandoned it as a losing pursuit. The dif- 
ferent seas in which it has been formerly carried on 
have all been successively exhausted of their stores; and 
that which is now principally resorted to is no doubt 
destined, ere long, to the same fate. Science and art, 
on the other hand, threaten to destroy the importance of 
the trade by the discovery of substitutes for its different 
products. The invention of illumination by gas has 
already rendered us independent of oil in regard to what 
was formerly its chief use. The pursuit is, after all, to 
be considered rather as a species of gambling adveuture 
than as partaking of the nature of a regular: branch of 
commercial enterprise. As in many other, games; skill 
has, indeed, a certain part to play; but still the issue 
depends mainly upon chance. ‘I'he same captain, in the 
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{ Dangers of the Whale Fishery.] 





*,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
, 99, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 








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and SIMMs. 
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Printed by Witz1am CLowes, Stamford Street, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledcze. 





{9.1 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[June 1, 1833. 





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[The Dovo. From a Painting in the British Museum. | 


Tue above wood-cut, which has been carefully copied 
from a painting in the British Museum, represents a 
bird, of the existence of whose species a little more than 
two centuries ago there appears to be no doubt, but 
which is now supposed to be entirely extinct. It must 
be obvious that such a fact offers some of the most in- 
teresting and important considerations; and the subject, 
therefore, has claimed the particular attention of several 
distinguished naturalists. The most complete view of 
the evidence as to the recent existence of the Dodo is 
given in a paper, by Mr. Duncan, of New College, 
Oxford, which is printed in the twelfth number of the 
Zoological Journal. To this valuable article we are 
indebted for much of the following account. 

The painting ia the British Museum was presented to 
that institution by the late Mr. George Edwards; and 
the history of it is thus given in his work on birds :— 

“The original picture from which this print of the 
dodo is engraved, was drawn in Holland, from the living 
bird, brought from St. Maurice’s Island, in the Fast 
Indies, in the early times of the discovery of the Indies, 
by the way of the Cape of Good Hope. It (the picture) 
was the property of the late Sir Hans Sloane, to the time 
of his death; and afterwards becoming my property, I 
deposited it in the British Museum as a great curiosity. 


The above history of the picture I had from Sir Hans 


Vou. II. 


Sloane, and the late Dr. Mortimer, Secretary of the 
Royal Society.” 

The evidence of the former existence of this bird does 
not, however, entirely rest upon this picture and its tra-. 
ditionary history ; for if it were so, it would be easier to 
imagine that the artist had invented the representation 
of some unknown creature, than that the species should 
have so utterly become lost within so comparatively short 
a time. There are three other representations of the 
dodo which may be called original; for they are given 
in very early printed books, and are evidently not copied 
one from the other, although they each agree in repre- 
seuting the sort of hood on the head, the eye placed ina 
bare skin extending to the beak, the curved and swelling 
neck, the short heavy body, the small wings, the stumpy 
legs and diverted claws, and the tuft of ramp feathers. 

The first of these pictures is given in a Latin work 
by Clusius, entitled ‘ Caroli Clusi Esxoticorum, lib. v. 
printed in 1605. He says that his figure 1s taken from 
a rough sketch in a journal of a Dutch voyager, who 
had seen the bird in a voyage to the Moluccas, in 1598 ; 
and that he himself had seen, at Leyden, a leg of the 
dodo, brought from the Mauritius. 

The second representation is in Herbert’s Travels, 
oublished in 1634. We subjoin his description of the 


bird, which is very quaint and curious :— 
25 


210 


“The dodo comes first to our description, here, and 
in Dygarrois; (and no where else, that ever I could see 
or heare of, is gerierated the dodo.) (A Portuguize 
name it is, and has reference to her simplenes,) a bird 
which for shape and rareness might be called a Phenix 
(wer't in Arabia;) ner body is round and extreame fat, 
her slow pace begets that corplencie; few of them 
weigh lesse than fifty pound: better to the eye than the 
stomack: greasie appetites might perhaps commend 
ihem, but to the indifferently curious nourishment, but 
prove offensive. Let’s taxe her picture: her visage darts 
forth melancholy, as sensible of nature's injurie in fram- 
ing so great and massie a body to be directed by such 
small and complementall wings, as are unable to hoise 
her from the ground, serving only to prove her a bird; 
which otherwise might be doubted of: her head is vari- 
ously drest, the one halte hooded with downy blackish 
feathers,; the other, perfectly naked; of a whitish hue, 
as if a transparent lawne had covered it: her bill is 
very howked and bends downwards, the thrill or breath- 
ing place is in the midst of it; from which part to the 
end, the colour is a light greene mixt with a pale yellow; 
her eyes be round and small, and bright as diamonds; 
her cloathing is of finest downe, such as you see in 
goslins: her trayne is (like a China beard) of three or 
four short feathers; her legs thick, and black, and 
strong; her tallons or pounces sharp, her stomack fiery 
hot, so as stones and iron are easily digested in it; in 
that and shape, not a little resembling the Africk 
Oestriches : but so much, as for their more certain diffe- 
rence I dare to give thee (with two others) her repre- 
sentation,” 

In this description there are several details that are no 
doubt inaccurate ; such as the iron-digesting stomach ; 
but the more important particulars agree with other 
evidence, 

The third representation of the dedo is in Willughby’s 
Ornithology, published about the end of the seventeenth 
century; and this figure is taken from one given in a 

alin work on the natural and medical history of the 

-: Indies, published by Jacob Bontius, in 1658. 

: figure exactly agrees with that of the picture in the 
ish Museum. Our great naturalist Ray, who pub- 
d, in 1676 and 1688, editions of Willughby’s work, 
, * We have seen this bird dried, or its skin stuffed, 
radescant’s cabinet.” ‘Tradescant was a person who 
a very curious museum at Lambeth, and in his 
ed catalocue we find the following item: ‘ Sect. 5, 
le Birds. Dodar, from the island Mauritius; it is not 
‘Lie to fly, bemgso big.” ‘Tradescant’s specimen after- 
wards passed into the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, 
where itis described as existing in 1700; but having 
become decayed, was destroyed by an order of the visitors 
in 1755. ‘There is a beak, however, and a leg still pre- 
served in the Ashmolean Museum ; and there is a foot 
also in the British Museum, which was formerly in the 
Museum of the Royal Society. We are informed, by 
all eminent naturalist, that the foot at Oxford is much 
shorter, and otherwise much smaller, than, the one in the 
British Museum, which shows that there must have been 
two specimens in this country. 

Of the former existence, therefore, of the dodo, there 
appears to be no reasonable doubt; although the repre- 
seutations and descriptions of the bird may, In many 
respects, be inaccurate. Mr. Duncan, in answer to an 
application upon the subject made to a gentleman at 
Port Louis, in the Mauritius, learnt that there is a very 
general impression among the inhabitants that the dodo 
did exist at Rodriguez, as well as in the Mauritius itself’; 
but that the oldest inhabitants have never seen it, nor 
has any speciinen, or part of a specimen, been procured 
in those islands. Mr. Lyell states, in the second volume 
of his Principles of Geology, that M. Cuvier had showed 


“THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[J UNE 1 
under a bed of lava in the Isle of France, amongst 
which were some remains of the dodc, which left no 
doubt in the mind of this great naturalist that this bird 
was of the gallinaceous tribe; that is, of the same tribe 
as the common domestic fowl, the turkey and the 
peacock. 

In a paper “ on the natural affinities that connect the 
orders and families of birds,’ pubhshed in the Trans- 
actions of the Linnean Society, the following observa’ 
tions occur on the dodo :— 

‘“ Considerable doubts have arisen as to the present 
existence of the Linnean Didus (dodo); and they 
have been increased by the consideration of the num- 
berless opportunities that have latterly occurred of 
ascertaining the existence of these birds in those situ- 
ations, the Isles of Mauritius and Bourbon, where they 
were originally alleged to have been found. That they 
once existed I believe cannot be questioned. Besides 
the descriptions given by voyagers of undoubted autho- 
rity, the relics of a specimen preserved in the public 
repository of this country bear decisive record of the 
fact. ‘The most probable supposition that we can form 
on this subject is, that the race has become extinct in 
the -before-mentioned islands, in consequence of the 
value of the bird as an article of food to the earlier 
settlers, and its incapability of escaping from pursuit. 
This conjecture is strengthened by the consideration of 
the gradual decrease of a nearly conterminous group, 
the Otis tarda (bustard), of our British ornithology, 
which, from similar eauses, we have every reason to 
suspect will shortly be lost to this country. We may, 
however, still entertain some hopes that the Didus may 
be recovered in the south-eastern part of that vast 
continent, hitherto so little explored, which adjoins those 
islands, and whence, indeed, it seems to have been 
originally imported into them.” 

The agency of man, in limiting the increase of the 
inferior animals, and in extirpating certain races, was 
perhaps never more strikingly exemplified than in the 
case of the dodo. ‘That a species so remarkable in its 
character should become extinct, within little more than 
two centuries, so that the fact of its existence at all has 
been doubted, is a circumstance which may well excite 
our surprise, and lead us to a consideration of similar 
changes which are still going on from the same cause. 
These changes in our own country, where the rapid 
progress of civilization has compelled man to make in- 
cessant war upon many species that gave him offence, 
or that afforded him food or clothing, are sufficiently 
remarkable. ‘The beaver was a native of our rivers in 
the time of the Anglo-Saxons; but, being eagerly 
pursued for its fur, had become scarce at the end of the 
ninth century, just in the same way as the species is 
now becoming scarce in North America. In the twelfth 
century its destruction was nearly complete. ‘The wolf 
is extirpated, although it existed in Scotland at the end 
of the seventeenth century. The last bear perished 
in Scotland in 1057. In Isaac Waltons Angler, pub- 
lished soon after the time of Charles I., we have a 
dialogue between the angler and a hunter of otters,— 
a citizen who walked into the neighbourhood of Tot- 
tenham, to chase the auimal in the small rivers of 
Middlesex. How rarely is an otter now found! The 
wild cat and the badger are seldom discovered, although 
they were formerly common ;—the wild boar is never 
heard of. The eagle is now scarcely to be seen, except in 
the wildest fastnesses of the Highlands ;—and the crane, 
the egret, and the stork, who were once the undisturbed 
tenants of the marshes with which the country was 
covered, are fled before the progress of cultivation. A 
sincle bustard (already mentioned) is now rarely found: 
they were formerly common in our downs and heaths, 
in flocks of forty or fifty. The wood grouse, which about 


him, in Paris, a collection of fossil bones, discovered | fifty years ago were the tenants of the pine-forests of 


1$33.] - 


Scotland and Ireland, are utterly destroyed. [acts such 
as these may show us that the recent existence, and the 
supposed extirpation of the dodo, may be supported by 
well-known examples in our own country. ‘The general 
subject is full of interest ;—and those who wish to pursue 
it may refer to the ninth chapter of Mr. Lyell’s second 
volume; and to a valuable memoir by Dr. Fleming, in 
the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal, for October 1824. 





The Toad. —The progress of natural philosophy has 
destroyed half the beauty of the celebrated simile of 
Shakspeare :-— 

« Sweet are the uses of adversity ; 
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.” 

Though the toad is still reputea venomous, yet no one 
imagines it to have a jewel inits head. This was however 
beliéved in Shakspeare’s days: Mr. Steevens the commen- 
tator tells us, that it was the’current opinion, that in the head 
of an old toad was to be found a stone or pearl, to which 
ereat virtues were ascribed. Thomas Lupton, in his ‘ First 
Booke of Notable Things, 4to. bl. 1., bears repeated testimony 
to the virtues of the ‘‘tode-stone, called Crapaudina.” In 
his ‘Seventh Boake’ he instructs how to procure it; and 
afterwards tells us, “ You shall knowe whether the tude- 
stone be the ryght and perfect stone or not. Holde the 
stone before a tode, so that he may see it; and if it be aryght 
and true stone, the tode will leape towarde it; and make as 
though he would snatch it. He envieth so much that maui 
should have that stone.” It is hardly necessary to say 
any thing more about this jewel, which is of course a mere 
fantastic Invention. 

Modern writers express themselves with some doubt when 
speaking of the supposed venomous nature of the toad. Beck 
says, in his Medical Jurisprudence, “ It is doubted at the pre- 
sent day, though formerly it was believed. King John of 
England is supposed to have been poisoned by a drink in 
which matter from a living toad had been infused. Pelletier 
has analyzed the venom of the comtuon toad, and states it 
to consist of an acid, a very bitter and even caustic fat 
matter, and an animal matter having some analogy to 
gelatine. No experiments, however, appear to have been 
made with it.” No scepticism on this point however appears 
fo have disturbed that eminent novelist Boccaccio, who has a 
tale of which the tragic interest depends on the mortal venom 
of a toad. Two young lovers, Pasquino and Simona, are 
wandering in a garden, and happen to find a large cluster of 
sage plants; Pasquino plucks a leaf, and begins to rub his 
teeth and gums with it, observing that it is very good to do 
this after eating. He continues his conversation, but in a 
few minutes a sudden change comes over his countenance, 
and he expires. Simona is immediately accused by a friend 
of the deceased of having poisoned him, and taken before a 
magistrate. This respectable functionary, desirous of inves- 
tigating the matter thoroughly, proceeds with the parties 
to the spot where the fatal accident took place, and where 
the body of Pasquino is lying, swelled up like a toad. 
Simona, in order to show the exact manner of her lover's 
death, plucks another sage leaf and uses it in the same 
manner, and dies-:suddenly on the spot. The magistrate, 
astonished at fhe catastrophe, observes that this sage is 
poisonous, which is not usual in the sage. Accordingly, he 
orders the plant to be rooted up, which is immediately done, 
when the cause of the death of these unfortunate lovers 
becomes manifest. Under this plant, says the Italian 
novelist, there was a wonderfully large toad, by whose 
venomous breath they perceived that the sage had itself 
become poisonous. 


Natural and artificial Mineral Waters.—Artificial Seltzer 
water is certainly a highly valuable carbonated water, but 
yet it is not Seltzer water. So also the Carlsbad water, 
made according to chemical analysis, is a very useful alka- 
line water, but not Carlsbad water. Let the artificial one 
be drunk for some weeks, and debility of the digestive and 
general system will certainly follow. On the contrary, 
Carlsbad water can be taken for.months without these con- 
Seyuences, nay, with increasing appetite and strength; a 
sufficient proof that something is present in the latter which 
is wanting in the former, and which counteracts the inju- 
rious effect of the alkaline salt. — Hufeland, Praktische 
Uebersicht der vorziiglichsten Heilquetlen Teutschlands. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


211 


The complatsant Physician.—During his latter years, 
when he had retired from all but consultation practice, and 
had ample time to attend to each individual case. he was 
very deliberate, tolerant, and willing to listen to whatever 
was said to him by the patient ; but at an earlier period, in the 
hurry of great business, when his day’s work, as he was 
used to say, amounted to sixteen hours, he was suimetiines 
rather irritable, and betrayed a want of temper in hearing 
the tiresome details of an unimponant story. After listening, 
with torture, to a prosing account from a lady, who ailed so 
little that she was going to the opera that evening, lre had 
happily escaped from the room when he was urgently 
requested to step up stairs again ;—it was to ask nim 
whether, on her return from the opera, she might eat some 


oysters. “ Yes, Ma'am,” said Baillie, “shells and <all.”’— 


Lives of the British Physicians—Bailiie. 

Poisonous Beads.—Those beautiful red seeds with a black 
spot brought from India, which are sometimes worn as 
ornaments of dress, are said by the natives to beso dangerous, 
that the half of one of them is suificiently poisonous to de- 
stroy a man: this account, however, seems to exceed proba- 
bility ; but that they have a very prejudicial quality, I have 
no dcubt, for within my own knowledge I have seen an 
extraordinary effect of the poison of one of these peas. A 
poor woman who had some of them given to her, and who 
did not choose to be at the expense of having them ‘drilled to 
make a necklace, put the seeds into hot water till they were 
sufficiently soft to be perforated with a large needle; in per- 
forming this operation she accidentatly wounded her finger, 
whieh soon swelled and became very painful, -he swelling 
extending to the whole hand; and it wes a cons.derable time 
before she recovered the use of it. The botanical name of 
the plant that produces this pea is Adrus precatori's.— 
Elements of Science of Botany as established by Linneus. 


BATTLE ABBEY. 

Tus famous and once splendid ecclesiastical fo. ndation 
owes its origin to the great battle between King Harold 
and William of Normandy, which deprived the former 
of his crown, and decided, at one of the mest critical _ 
stages of her history, the fate of England. It has 
been repeatedly stated from Camden, in modern pub- 
lications, that the village of Battle was known before 
this event by the name of Epitou. But this, as Mr. 
Gough many years ago remarked, is a mistake of the 
venerable antiquary, founded on an expression of the 
old chronicler Ordericus Vitalis, who uses the term 
Epiton, or rather Epitumium, merely for any field of 
battle. Ducange had long before explained the word 
in his Glossary. As to the village, it 1s expressly 
stated in old documents to have gradually sprune up 
around the abbey, and there is no reason to suppose 
that it existed at all before that building was erected. 
There seems, however, to have been a church on or 
near the spot in more ancieut times, which was known 
by the name of the Church of St. Mary in the Wood. 
The neighbouring country remained covered with trees 
down at least to the Conquest; aud this church was 
doubtless intened for the use of the peasants who were 
scattered up and down over the forest. 

The town of Battle, which, with the parish, contains 
about three thousand inhabitants, stands on rising 
eround about eight miles north-west from Hastings. It 
commands a rich and extensive prospect, comprehen’ ing 
the expanse of the ccean to the south, and a sweep uf 
highly cultivated country in all other directions. ‘Whe 
village itself consists principally of a single street, which 
runs up the declivity, and at a little distance froin the 
termination of which, ou the top, stands the abbey. 

It was on the 28th of September, 1066, that William 
of Normandy landed at Pevensey, or Pen.sey, as if is 
commonly called, on the Sussex coast, abort nine miles 
to the west of Hastings, at the head of the powerful 
armainent with which he intented to win a kinexiom. 
Haroid was at the tune in the north, where he had just 
achieved a great victory over another band of ‘foreign 
invaders, the Norwegians, headed by their hing, who ‘ei 

26 2 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[Battle Abbey, Sussex. ] 


in the fight. Owing probably to this circumstance no 
attempt was made to oppose the landing of William. 
That leader, as soon as he had got his troops on shore, 
commenced the erection of a fort on the spot, and sunk, 
or as some authorities assert, burnt his ships, which are 
said to have been above nine hundred in number, without 
reckoning small craft. They must have been vessels of 
such size as to carry fifty or sixty men each. It was 
some time before Harold made his appearance to repel 
this aggression upon his dominions. Butthe two armies 
met at last on the 14th of October, the birth-day of the 
English king. Harold on that morning was posted on 
the eminence now occupied by the village of Battle, and 
his adversary on another rising ground a short distance 
to the south. A very full and animated acccunt of the 
ficht which ensued (commonly called the Battle of 
Hastings), has lately been given in an able publication, 
of which only the first volume has yet appeared, ‘ The 
Biographical History of England, edited by George 
Godfrey Cunningham ;’ the writer of which has evi- 
dently made himself very completely master of the details 
given by the various old French and Latin chroniclers, 
and has caught also not a little of their graphic spirit. 
The narrative is a great deal too long to be given entire, 
but we shall select a few passages sufficient to present at 
least an outline of the course of the battle. 

“About nine in the morning, the Norman army 
bezan to move, crossed the interval between the two 
hills, and slowly ascended the eminence on which the 
English were posted. The banner of St. Peter, as a 
presage of victory, was borne in the van by Tonstain the 
Fair,—a dangerous honour, which two of the barous had 
successively declined. Harold beheld them gradually 
advance, and as the third division appeared, he broke 


out into violent exclamations of anger and dismay. He 
had the advantage of the ground, and having secured his 


flank by trenches, he resolved to stand upon the de- 
fensive, and to avoid all action with the cavalry, in which 
he was inferior, The men of Kent were placed in 


frout, a privilege which they always claimed as their 
due. The Londoners had the honour of being the royal 
body guard, and were posted around the standard. The 
King himself, on foot, took his station at the head of the 
infantry, determined to conquer or perish in the action. 
The Normans rushed to the onset, shouting their national 
tocsin, ‘ God is our help!’ which was loudly answered 
by the adverse cry of * Christ's cross! The Holy cross!’ 
The battle soon became general, and raged 
with great fury. The Norman archers advancing, dis- 
charged their weapons with effect; but they were re- 
ceived with equal valour by the English, who firmly kept 
their ground. After the first shower of arrows, they 
returned to the attack with spears and lances; and 
again they were obliged to retire, unable to make 
any impression on their opponents. . . . The 
battle had continued with desperate obstinacy; and 
from nine till three in the afternoon, the success on 
either side was nearly balanced. . . . Disap- 
pointed and perplexed at seeing his troops every where 
repulsed by an unbroken wall of courageous soldiers, 
the Norman general had recourse to a stratagem 
He resolved to hazard a feigned retreat; and a body 
of a thousand horse were ordered to take flight. The 
artifice was successful. The credulous English, in the 
heat of action, followed; but their temerity was speedily 
punished with terrible slaughter. . . Still the great 
body of the army maintained its position; for so long 
as Harold lived and fought, they seemed to be invin- 
cible. . . A little before sunset, an arrow, shot at 
random, pierced his eye: he dropped from his steed in 
agony; and the knowledge of his fall relaxed the efforts 
of his followers. . . A furious charge of the Norman 
horse increased the confusion which the King’s wound 
must have occasioned. . . Fora time, the Kentish 
men and East Saxons seemed to retrieve the fortune of 
theday. . . At length, the English banner was cut 
down, and the papal colours, erected in its place, an- 
nounced that William of Normandy was the conqueror, 


1833.] 


It was now late in the evening, but such was the 
obstinacy of the vanquished, that they continued the 
struggle in many parts of the bloody field long after 
dark. . . . The carnage was great. On the part of 
the conquerors, nearly sixty thousand men had been 
engaged, and of these more than one-fourth were left 
dead on the field. The number of the English and the 
amount of their loss are unknown. The vanity of 
the Normans has exaggerated the army of the enemy 
beyond the bounds of credibility ; but the native writers 
reduce it to a handful of resolute warriors. ‘The histerians 
of both countries agree, that with Harold and _ his bro- 
thers perished all the nobility of the south of England.” 
The erection of Battle Abbey (the Abbatia de Bello, 
as it was called in Latin) was commenced by the Con- 
queror in the course of the following year, in confor- 
mity, it is said, with a vow which he had made before 
the fight, but was not completed till 1094, in the reign of 
Rufis. The high altar is asserted to have been placed 
on the spot where the dead body of Harold was found. 
It is more probable, however, as other authorities re- 
cord, that the spot was that on which the royal standard 
was raised at the commencement of the battle. The 
house was originally intended to contain one hundred 
and forty monks, but only sixty were placed in it, 
who were brought from the monastery of Marmoustier 
in Normandy. Many manors, chiefly in the counties of 
Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Oxford, and Berks, were bestowed 
upon it, along with the most ample privileges,— exemp- 
tion from all taxation, the rights of free warren, trea- 
sure trove, and sanctuary; independence of episcopal 
jurisdiction ; and, to the abbot, the singular prerogative 
of pardoning any condemned thief or robber whom he 
should meet on his way to execution. Numerous char- 
ters, granted by the Conqueror, by William Rufus, by 
Henry I., and by other kings, down to Henry IV., in 
favour of this establishment, are still preserved, copies 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


218 


ticon. Its possessions, in course of time, were rreatly 
extended, through the liberality of its reeal patrons. 
The abbot enjoyed the dignity of wearing the mitre, 
and was always suminoned to parliament so lone as the 
ancient religion lasted. The last individual who held 
the office was named John Hamond. He was elected 
in 1529, and in 1538 he surrendered the monastery to 
the King. According to the valuation which had been 
taken a few years before, its revenues amounted to 
£880, according to Dugdale, but Speed says to £987. 
Hamond retired on a pension of £66. 13s. 4d. 

After the dissolution the property was cranted toa 
person named Gilmer, who, after pulling down a great 
part of the buildings and disposing of the materials, sold 
the place to Sir Anthony Browne. The latter soon 
after commenced the erection of a dwelling-house on the 
site of part of the old monastery, which was finished by 
his son, the first Lord Montague. This building, how- 
ever, fell afterwards into ruins; bnt the estate having 
been purchased by Sir Thomas Webster, the ancestor of 
the present Sir Godfrey Webster, a new house was 
erected, which still exists. It forms one of the sides of 
what appears to have been originally a complete quad- 
rangle, of great spaciousness. ‘The entire circuit of the 
ruins of the abbey, indeed, is not much short of a mile. 
Only a fragment of the church now remains, from which 
it is impossible to trace either its form or extent; but 
there are still to be seen some arches of the cloisters, a 
hall called the refectory, about 150 feet in length, and 
another building detached from the rest, exhibiting the 
remains of an immiense room, 166 feet in length by 35 
in breadth, the walls of which are still adorned by twelve 
windows on one side and six on the other. This is sup- 
posed to have been the great hall, in which the abbot 
and his monks gave their more solemn entertainments. 
Good living: seems to have been cultivated in the estab- 
lishment. ‘The ample kitchen still exhibits the remains 


of several of which may be seen in Dugdale’s Monas- | of no fewer than five fire-places. 


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(The Gateway at Battle Abbey, Sussex. | 


One of the most striking parts of the ruin is the great 
wate at the entrance of the quadrangle, of which the 
wood-cut above is a representation. It is supposed to 
be of the reign of Henry VI., and, with its battlemented 
towers, 1S a very imposing structure. 


Until about forty | 


years ago, the apartment over the gateway was used as 
a town-house ; but on the 18th of September, 1794, the 
roof was driven in by a violent storm of wind and rain, 
and it has not since been repaired, 


214 
OLD TRAVELLERS.—No. 3. 


ROBERT KNOXx—concluded. 


For eight or nine successive years did these cou- 
raveous men make this dangerous journey, or, as Knox 
calls it, ‘‘this northern discovery.” In one year ‘they 
got as far as Hourly, at the very extremity of the 
King of Kandy’s dominions, but they could not proceed 
on account of the drought. Another year they met 
the black servant-boy whom Knox had dismissed long 
before, and who was now settled in the low country, 
married, and the father of a family, but miserably poor. 
This fellow, on promise of a bountiful reward, under- 
took to guide them the next year to the Dutch settle- 
ments on the coast. Unfortunately at the time appointed 
Knox was detained by a violent attack of pleurisy, so 
that they missed the Indian, and they did not yet think 
themselves sufficiently acquainted with the route he had 
proposed, to attempt it without him. 

.At length, when they thought their frequent going 
and coming had lulled all suspicion as to their escaping, 
and that they were masters of all the information about 
the country they were likely ever to obtain, Robert and 
his companion left their pleasant house at Elledat for 
the last time. This was on the 22d of September, 1679, 
after more than nineteen years of captivity. 

Furnished with such arms as they could secrete, as 
knives and small axes, and with wares to sell as for- 
merly, they struck boldly through a country swarming 
with wild elephants, tigers, and bears. When they 
came to a more peopled district they were alarmed and 
brought to a dead stand, by intelligence that a number 
of officers from court were there collecting the king’s 
duties and revenue. On this they edged away to a 
secluded village, where they “sate’to kuitting” until 
they heard the officers were gone. They then went 
onwards, having purcliased a quantity of cotton-yarn, 
and kept most of their wares, to serve as a pretext for 
their going farther to sell them. At Colliwilla their only 
road lay directly through the grounds of a governor, 
who was there on purpose to see and examine all who 
passed. With great presence of mind, instead of showing 
timidity, which would have ruined them, they went 
boldly up to this grandee’s house, and told him they 
were going forward to purchase dried flesh*, a com- 
modity much in request in the upland country. ‘The 
governor seeing their trading habits, and the property 
they had with them, never suspected their intention ; 
his favour, moreover, was conciliated by a present of 
“knives, with fine carved handles, and a red Tunis 
cap.’ Not to show any hurry or anxiety, one of them 
then went round the neighbourhood, pretending to be 
bargaining for dried meats, whilst the other remained at 
the governor's house knitting. 7 

They had acquired all the confidence they stood in 
need of, and thought they might go on, without danger 
of being followed, until they should be out of the reach 
of pursuit, when some soldiers arrived at Colliwilla from 
the court, with orders to the governor to increase the 
vigilance of his watch, lest any suspicious persons should 
escape from the Kandyar dominions. ‘This intelligence 
was as a death-blow to Knox and his companion, who 
expected every ninute to be arrested, and carried back 
by these soldiers from the capital. Their admirable 
self-possession, however, again saved them, and they 
suw the soldiers return towards the interior without 
troubling or suspecting them. 

The next morning, after securing about their persons 
such things as were most necessary for their journey, 


* This dried flesh is chiefly that of the deer killed in the low 
countries by the Vaddas, or Veddahs, who dry it in the sun, or 
preserve it by putting it into the hollow of a tree, which hollow they 
previously coat with honey, and then close up the aperture with clay. 


The Veddahs, or wild men, never cook this dried meat but cover‘it 
with honey and eat it raw. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[June I, 


they went to the governor. | “I carried him,” says Knox, 
“four or five charges of gunpowder, a thing somewhat 
scarce among them, entreatine him, rather than we 
should be disappointed of flesh, to make use of that and 
shoot some deer; while I told him we would make a 
step to Anarodgburro, to see what flesh we could pro- 
cure there. In the mean time, according as we had 
before laid the business, came Stephen, with the bundle 
of all our goods, desiring to leave them in the gover- 
nor’s house till we came back, which he was very ready 
to grant us leave to do; and seeing us leave such a 
parcel of goods, though, God knows, of little account 
in themselves, yet of considerable value in that land, he 
could not suppose otherwise but that we were intended 
to return. Thus we took our leaves, and immediately 
departed, not giving hina time to consider with himself, 
or consult with others about us.” 

They now forced their way through a desolate wood 
to Anarodeburro, which was not inhahited by Cingalese, 
but by a tribe from the coast of Malabar, who had never 
seen a white man. Here they were carried before the 
governor, whom they duped with their usual skill and 
success, still pretending they were only come to buy 
dried ‘flesh for the interior of the country. At this place 
they were a hundred miles advanced on their journey, 
Stephen Rutland staid quietly in the town, while Knox, 
saying’ he was in search of dried deers flesh, which, 
fortunately for them, happened to be very scarce that 
season, went from place to place, and furnished himself 
with some rice, a brass pot to boil it in, a little meat, 
and some deer-skin to make shoes for themselves. After 
three days most patiently spent in this manner, they set 
off unobserved and unsuspected. They had found out 
the direct road to Jafnapatan, and another Dutch settle- 
ment, but this was vigilantly guarded by the Cingalese. 
They thought it would be safer for them to go right 
through the forest, shaping their course by the sun ana 
moon; but the ground was burnt up, and they feared 
they should perish that way for want of water. At last 
they decided that their safest way would be to follow the 
course of a river they had seen between Colliwilla and 
Anarodgburro, and which they had reasonably con- 
cluded must flow into the sea. Accordingly they turned 
back some miles on the road by which they had come, 
delaying their departure until mght, when they knew, 
from their fear of wild beasts, they should meet none of 
the natives abroad. This was on the 12th of Octo- 
ber, and on a Sunday night, the moon being eighteen 
days old. ‘They calculated that the provisions Knox had 
procured for the journey would last them ten days. 
“ Our weapons,” says Robert, “‘ were, each man a small 
axe fastened to a lone staff in our hands, and a good 
knife by our sides, which were sufficient, with God's 
help, to defend us from the assaults of either tiger or 
bear; and as for elephants there is no standing agaist 
them, but the best defence is to flee fromthem.” For 
tents they carried two @reat talipat leaves, which are 
venerally used by the natives of Ceylon for that purpose, 
as well as for umbrellas*. 

On reaching the river which was the Malwat Oyah, 


they left the road and Struck into the wild forests by the 


river's side. ‘They avoided treading on the sand or soft 
ground, aid when they were obliged to do so they 
walked backwards, so that the print of their feet would 
have indicated they had gone in an opposite direction. 
They pursued their journey till nightfall, when, contrary 
to their expectations, it came on to rain. To shelter 
themselves they set up their two talipat leaves, and lit 


* The talipat, or tallipot, is a species of palm tree, which is 
straight and grows to a prodigious height. Its broad leaves, when 
dried, are strong and exceedingly elastic. They can be expanded or 
shut up like a lady’s fan. When open, they are large enough to 
cover from the sun or rain, ten or fifteen men, and when closed they 
are not thicker than a man’s arm, They are very light, 


a fire, by which they rested themselves until the moon 
rose. Hitherto they had always travelled barefoot, but 
having now to prosecute their journey by night, and 
through rough woods, they bound up their feet in pieces 
of the deer-hides Knox had bought: for the purpose at 
Anarodgburro. 

Though the moon gave little light through the thick 
trees, Robert and his comrade walked on for some three 
or four hours, when they were brought to a stand by a 
single wild elephant that they could not scare away. 
This obliged them again to light a fire. When day 
broke the elephant was gone, and the wilderness around 
them seemed never to have been trodden by the foot of 
man. Soon after, however, they came unexpectedly on 
an inhabited district called ‘Tissea Wava, and to escape 
being seen by the natives were obliged to hide themselves 
all day in a hollow tree. As soon as it was dark they 
went forward, and presently ran as fast as their legs 
could carry them, for they heard the hallooing of men’s 
voices behind them, and thought they were pursued ; 
“but at length,” says Robert, “we heard elephants behind 
us, between us and the voices, which we knew by the 
noise of cracking the boughs and small trees, which they 
break down and eat. These elephants were a very good 
guard behind us, and were, methought, like the darkness 
that came between Israel and the Eeyptians. For the 
people, we knew, would not dare to go forwards, hearing 
elephants before them.” 

They pitched their talipat leaves that night by the side 
of the river, boiled rice and roasted some of their flesh, 
and aiter supper slept tranquilly for some hours. 

When the moon shone out brightly they again renewed 
their difficult walk. They had nothing more to fear from 
the Cingalese having passed their country, but they had 
reached the range of the Vaddas, a race of wild men who 
lived by hunting, and who were very likely to shoot 
them with arrows, if they met them there. One day at 
noon they were very near being discovered by a number 
of wild women and children, who came to wash them- 
Selves in the river, close to a rock where the fugitives 
were reposing. | 

They travelled from Sunday to Thursday “ still along 
by the river side,’ says Robert, “ which turned and winded 
very crooked. In some places it would be pretty good 
travelling, and but few bushes aud thorns, and in others 
a great many, so that our shoulders and arms were all of 
a gore, being grievously torn and scratched. For we 
had nothing on us but a clout about our middles, and 
our victuals on our shoulders, and in our bands a talipat 
and an axe.’’ 3 
‘ They were frequently puzzled at the confluence of 
other rivers to know which stream to follow. On Thurs- 
day afternoon they crossed a river called Coronda Oyah, 
on which they came again on the territory of the Malabar 
colony. From this point the forests were perfectly 
impenetrable, so that they were obliged to crawl along 
the rocky bed of the river, in which there was little water 
but a terrific quantity of alligators, and of bears, wild 
buffaloes, and elephants, that were constantly coming 
there to. drink or cool themselves. 

Though the people of the country on which they had 
now entered paid tribute to the Dutch, Knox knew 
they were better affected towards the King of Kandy, 
and feared, every moment, that some of them would meet 
him and Stephen, and send them back, after all they had 
done and suffered. 

_ It was not, however, until Friday afternoon that they 
Saw any human beings. They then came up unex- 
pectedly with two Bramins, or priests, sitting under a tree 
boiling rice, who did not molest them, but accepted all 
the money the fugitives had (about five shillings), a red 
unis cap, and a knife, to show them their way to the 


nearest Dutch settlement,—a service they soon discovered | 
= ‘chiefly of mud and rushes, and when abandoned, soon 


they were unable or unwilling to perform. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


215 


When the Bramins left them, they continued their 
way down the rugged bed of the river as before; but 
they were this night in great danger from elephants, 
which were so numerous and fearless that the fire they 
lit did not deter their approach. They. were obliged 
constantly to throw fire-brands at the intruders in every 
direction. 

But this was the last of the perils these firm-hearted 
men had to encounter in this wonderful flight. The 
next morning they came to land as smooth as a bowling 
green, and soon after met a native who was in the service 
of the Dutch, and who told them that all the country 
thereabouts was subject to the Europeans, that they were 
only six miles from the Dutch fort of Arrepa, and out of 
all danger. 

They then went confidently up to some native villages, 
and were conducted from one to the other, on their way, 
until they reached the fort, “it being,” says Knox, 
“about four of the clock on Saturday afternoon, October 
the 18th, 1679; which day God grant us grace that we 
may. never forget, when he was pleased to give us so 
great a deliverance from such a long captivity, of nine- 
teen years and six months and odd days, being taken 
prisoner when I was nineteen years old, and continued 
upon the mountains among the heathen till I attained to 
elelit and thirty.’” 

At fort Arrepa they were received with astonishment 
and great kindness by the Dutch, who sent them forward 
the next day to their other settlement at Manaar. 
Among the first to welcome them at Manaar were a 
Scotch and an Irish soldier in the service of Holland, who 
carried them to their lodgings and treated them most 
hospitably. All the people of the place flocked to see 
them as men that had performed a miracle. 

Their health had been excellent during their arduous 
journey; but three days after their arrival at Manaar, 
Steplien Rutland fell so sick that Knox thonght he 
should have lost him. Stephen, however, rallied, and 
the two friends were carried together ina Dutch ship to 
Colombo and thence to Batavia. At Batavia they were 
taken up by an English merchant vessel and conveyed to 
Bantam, where “they found the good ship Cesar bound 
for England, the land of their nativity and long wished 
for port.” 

The year after his arrival in England, Robert Knox 
published his account of Ceylon and his adventures. 
His old quarto volume enjoyed great and well merited 
popularity at the time; it was immediately translated 
into French and Dutch, and it still remains as the 
most perfect and spirited description of Ceylon that 
any literature can boast of. It has been reprinted ot 
late years. It is truly an astonishing book, considering 
the poor captives education and circumstances. The 
natural history of the country, its government, laws, 
manners and custoins, its agriculture and every other 
matter, on which rational curiosity can be indulged, are 
all fully and accurately detailed. We use the term 
“accurately” on good grounds, for gentlemen who have 
resided many years in Ceylon, and who were with the 
first English expedition to the interior of that island, 
have assured us that they found every thing precisely as 
Knox had described it, and that after considerable 
research and long acquaintance with the country, they 
were convinced that nothing could be corrected in, and 
very little added to, the sailor’s aceount of it. 

In the year 1819, when we were undisputed masters 
of Kandy, Mr. Henry Marshall, surgeon to the forces, 
and two other British officers, made a little expedition 
to Elledat, the place where Knox so long resided, and 
whence he set out on his escape. The place—“ the 
point of land,” as he describes it, ‘‘ standing into a corn- 
field, so that corn-fields were on three sides of it,” was 
easily discovered ; but the houses of Ceylon are built 


216 


obliterated by the winds and rains. Not atrace remained 
of his residence, but the memory of Knox was preserved 
in tradition by the poor Cingalese in the neighbourhood, 
who told Mr. Marshall that a white and a very good man, 
a long time ago, lived at Elledat for many years. 


ae 


A CINGALESE BOOK. 


oe, ee 


crea : 


— 
G 5 Lys 
“ <_< otf 


Se ee eee ee eee 
—_ —_— aie “af —— — YY 





Tue inside is made of strips of the leaves of the Talrpot- 
tree, which we shall describe in an early number; the out- 
side, or the boards which keep the leaves together, are of 
hard wood (generally the Jack-tree), and are often beau- 
tifully ornamented and painted. The leaves are laid one 
over the other. They are not sewed, but kept together by 
two strings, which pass through two holes made in each of 
them, and are fastened to the upper covering of the book by 
two knobs, which are sometimes made of crystal. 


A Village of Chess-players—During an excursion into 
Germany in the summer of 1831, I stayed for a few days at 
Halberstadt. In the neighbourhood of this town is a small 
village called Stroebeck, which has been celebrated for some 
centuries on account of its inhabitants being very good chess- 
players. Some have stated that this village holds its lands 
upon the tenure of forfeiture if any one of their community 
lose a game at chess, and that therefore they decline finish- 
ing a game with a stranger; this is, however, erroneous. 
The following is the account given by the inhabitants of the 
origin of the game of chess in the village:—A dignitary of 
the cathedral at Halberstadt was exiled to Stroebeck, and 
being consequently deserted by his former friends, he be- 
came the more attacned to the mhabitants of the village, 
and determined on teaching them the game of chess. He 
found to his delight that they became partial to it, and made 
great progress in it; he soon felt himself doubly recom- 
pensed for the trouble he had taken, for not only did they 
become proficients in the game, but it afforded him many 
opportunities of improving their morals and behaviour, whicli 
became visible in their intercourse with their neighbours ; 
after a time he -was recalled, and became Bishop of Halber- 
stadt. He, however, did not forget hes Stroebeck, as he 
used to call it,. but, on the contrary, often went there, and 
conferred many benefits on the community; amongst others, 
he instituted a free-school there.—Such is the account given 
by the inhabitants of the village, which contains about one 
hundred and twenty houses.—Lewts's Chess Lessons, vol. ii. 


Natural Wonder.—On the south side of the island 
(Mauritius) is a point called “the Souffleur’’ (the Blower), 
from the following circumstance. A large mass of rock 
runs out into the sea from the main land, to which it is 
joined by a neck of rock not two feet broad. The constant 
beating of the tremendous swell which rolls in has under- 
mined it in every direction, till it has exactly the appearance 
of a Gothic building with a number of arches in the centre 
of the rock, which is about thirty-five or: forty feet above the 
sea; the water has forced two passages vertically upwards, 
which are worn as smooth and cylindrical as if cut by a 
chisel. When a heavy sea rolls in, it of course fills in an 
instant the hollow caverns underneath, and finding no other 
egress, and being borne in with tremendous violence, it 
rushes up these chimneys, and flies roaring furiously to a 
height of full sixty feet. The moment the wave recedes 
the vacuum beneath causes the wind to rush into the two 
apertures with a loud humming noise, which is heard at a 
considerable distance. My companion and I arrived there 
before high water, and having climbed across the neck of 
rock, we seated ourselves close to the chimneys, where I 
proposed making a sketch, and had just begun, when in 
came a thundering sea, which broke right over the rock 
itself, and drove us back much alarmed. Our negro guide 
now informed us, that we must make haste to recross our 
narrow bridge, as the sea would get up as the tide rose. 


We lost no time, and got back dry enough; and I was 


obliged to make my sketches from the main land. In about 


Gad 
é 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[June 1, 1839, 


three-quarters of an hour the signt was truly magnificent. 
I do not exaggerate in the least when I say that the waves 
rolled in long and unbroken full twenty-five feet high, till, 
meeting the headland, they broke clear over it, sending the 
spray flying over to the main land ; while from the centre of 
this mass of foam, the Souffleur shot up with a noise which 
we afterwards heard distinctly between two and three miles. 
Standing on the main cliff, more than a hundred feet above 
the sea, we were quite wet. All we wanted to complete the 
picture was a large ship going ashore.—Journal of the Royal 
Geographical Soctety, vol. ii. part 1. 


Habits of Birds——The continuance of a nest in the same 
spot for several years is more remarkable in the case of 
migratory birds than in that of magpies, which do not 
migrate, and seldom go to any considerable distance 
from their breeding trees. There has been in a garden 
adjacent to ours, the nest of a black-cap for a succession 
of years, and broods have been successively reared there, 
without any observable increase in the population of the 
species. Yet this bird, which is little bigger than a wren, 
weighing only half an ounce, has to traverse annually the 
whole of the south of Europe, and probably a great pro- 
portion of the north of Africa, exposed of course to numerous 
accidents, as well as to occasional scarcity of its appropriate 
food. From the regular annual restoration, however, of this 
nest at the same spot, it is obvious that one, if not both of 
the black-caps, must have been wont to perform this exten- 
sive migration to and from Africa as safely as the more 
hardy cuckoo or the more swift-winged swallow. Durng 
the spring of 1831, the black-caps, which we suppose to be 
the same birds, from their keeping to the same place of 
nestling, were more than usually late in arriving; for in 
another garden about a mile off, there were young in the 
hereditary nest of black-caps before our little neighbours 
made their appearance from the south. When they did 
arrive, their attention was immediately attracted by the un- 
usual circumstance of hearing the loud song of a rival in 
the vicinity of their premises. This was a cock black-cap, 
which we had purchased the preceding autumn in the bird- 
market at Paris, and which was daily hung out in his cage 
to enjoy the fresh air and the sunshine, within a gun-shot of 
their usual place of nestling. The wild birds did not appear 
to like the little stranger at all; and the cock kept flying 
around the cage, alternately exhibiting curiosity, fear, anger, 
defiance, and triumphant exultation. Sometimes he would 
flit from branch to branch of the nearest tree, silently peeping 
into the cage with the utmost eagerness; all at once, he 
would dart off to a great distance as if afraid that he was 
about to.be similarly imprisoned ; or getting the better of 
his fears, he would perch on a conspicuous bough and snap 
his bill, calling check, check, seemingly in a great passion; 
again he would sing his loudest notes by way of challenge, 
or perhaps meaning to express his independence and supe- 
riority. Our cage-bird, meanwhile, was by no means a 
passive spectator of all this; and never failed, on the ap- 
pearance of the other, to give voice to his best song and to 
endeavour to outsing him, since he could not get at him to 
engage in personal conflict. 

This sort of altercation continued for more than a week, 
but the wild bird became gradually less eager to pry into 
the cage or to take any other notice of the cage-bird; and 
at length ceased altogether to approach it, his attention 
being now wholly occupied in attending to his mate and 
aiding her in building their nest. It is worthy of remark, 
that though’on their first appearance they resorted to the 
garden where the nest had hitherto been built, they finally 
fixed their residence in another garden, at some distance, 
induced no doubt by the vicinity of our cage-bird to their 
former haunts. The distance of the place to which they 
removed is such, that we can readily hear the song of the 
cock, and our bird is no less eager to answer and to endeavour 
to outsing him than at first; while, it is worthy of remark, 
that the wild bird seems no longer interested in such rivalry, 
and sings as if his only cuncern was to please himself and 
his mate.— From the ‘ Habits of Birds, gust published 1 
the sertes of Entertaining Knowledge. 


*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inna Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Printed by WitLiam Crowes, Stainferd Street. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





‘PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[June 8, 1833. 





ADAM'S PEAK, IN THE ISLAND OF CEYLON. 


—— a 





or 

i 4 2 

A a ee eS 
ot Le VALE ‘yy, 


heat “ign roll 
FOS MR PE 05 aay : = 
Eitri finat nen SSS 


se28s35 —- 
ae 24 a 
ee 


4 


= 
em 


Distant View of Adam’s Peak from Fort Colombo Roads.]} 


A VERY amusing collection might be made of the won- 
derful and fabulous accounts of this mountain, given at 
different ages of the world, by Pagan, Christian, Mus- 
selman, and Hindoo travellers; but it will be more 
mstructive to our readers to give them an accurate de- 
Scription of the spot, abridged from a tour in Ceylon by 
Mr. Marshall, who is one of the very few Europeans 
that have ascended Adam's Peak ™*. 

This gentleman performed the fatiguing journey in 
1819, accompanied by S. Sawers, Esq., Commissioner 
of Revenue in the Kandyan provinces. Starting from 
the city of Kandy, and proceeding in a south-westerly 
direction towards the mountain, the travellers were three 
days in performing thirty-nine miles, so rugged in parts, 
and in others covered with forest-trees and low jungle, 
was the country which they had to traverse. On the 
third day they saw the few huts of the natives, built on 
the extreme jagged points of the loftiest mountains, to 
escape the ravages of elephants. At the end of this 
day’s journey they were only eighteen miles from the foot 
of the peak, or the upper cone, yet it took them two days 
to perform that distance. 


* This tour was published some years since in the ‘ Transactions 
of the Wernerian Medical History Society of Edinburgh;’ and; 
though so curious, has hitherto been little known except to gentle- 
men of the medical profession. 


Vou. IT. 


On the fourth day there was a considerable degree of 
ascent in their road, and they found the trees covered 
with moss or lichen. For some distance their path- 
way lay alone the ridge of a narrow hill, on each side 
of which flowed a river. ‘‘ The rivers,’ says Mr. Mar- 
shall, ‘at some places fell over stupendous precipices, 
forming cascades of great magnitude. From the height 
of one of these cascades the whole mass of water which 
passed over the rock seemed to rise again in white va- 
pour.”” Above and beyond these impetuous rivers rose 
lofty ranges of peaked mountains, the whole presenting 
one of those magnificent pictures which have made 
men of good taste, who have travelled in Ceylon, declare 
that it is one of the most picturesque countries in the 
world. 

The peak has always been considered as a holy 
mount, a pilgrimage to which was highly meritorious 
and beneficial. The returning pilgrims, as an act of 
charity, always disposed of their walking-staves on the 
face of the hill, so as to assist future travellers in their 
ascent. When Mr. Marshall and his friend came to a 
very steep part of the road, they found a succession of 
these walking-sticks stuck firmly in the earth, and bun- 
dles of rods laid horizontally behind them, by which 
means tolerable steps were formed. As, however, pil- 


grimages by the road by which they came had almost 
21h 


218 


ceased since the dominion of the English, all these 
conveniences were rapidiy woing to decay. 

On the sixth day of their journey, when they were 
four hours goine about six miles (all the distance they 
performed), their guides were frequently at a loss to 
distinguish the path they ought to follow, from the 
tracks of wild elephants through the jungle. On reach- 
ing the top of a very hich hill they had a near view of 
the peak, which rose before them like an immense acu- 
minated, or sharp-pointed dome. Whenever the natives, 
in the course of the journey, canght a glimpse of the 
holy mount (the Mallua Sri’ Pade, or “the hull of thie 
sacred foot” in their languace), they raised their clasped 
hands over their heads, and devontly exclaimed ‘“ Saa / 
Saa!’’ "Their zeal had increased the nearer they ap- 
proached, but at this point their holy fervour was extreme. 

The next morning, before they began the fatiguing 
ascent of the peak, they came to a small river, where the 
natives performed the ceremony of ablution, preparatory 
to the delivery of their offerings at the shrine of the holy 
foot. Their offerines chiefly consisted of a few small 
copper coins, which the devotees wrapped in a piece of 
cloth; the cloth was then wrapped in a handkerchief 
that encircled their head, it being indispensable that the 
offering should be carried on the head, the noblest por- 
tion of the human frame. 

From the river the pathway went up a narrow, rugged 
ravine,—in the wet season the bed of a torrent, and im- 
passable. Thick jungle and lofty trees threw a wild 
gioom over.this hollow, and intercepted the view. When 
they had made about two-thirds of the ascent they were 
informed that they were at the place where those who 
professed the religion of Buddhoo offered needles and 
thread to their divinity. ‘The Buddhists in their train 
had thought little of this singular religious duty, for 
there was only one needle, with a little thread, found 
among the whole party. This, however, they made do 
duty for the whole, one succeeding another in taking up 
the needle and thread, and then replacing it on a sniall 
rock to the rieht of the road. 

Their way was now more difficult than ever, as the 
superior portion of the peak consists of an immense cone 
of granitic rock, bearing no trees, and but very partially 
covered with vegetation. ‘“ The track,’’ says Mr. Mar- 
shall, ‘ over several places of this cone is quite abrupt; 
and where the pathway leads over.a bare declivious rock 
(tending to some fearful precipice) there are steps cut 
in the stone, and iron chains so fixed as to lie alone the 
steps, for the purpose of assisting passengers in ascending 
and descending.” 

Sir William Ouseley found these chains mentioned in 
an old Persian manuscript; but as far as we know no 
other reference was ever made to them. Robert Knox, 
who had not the advantage of seeing the place, has no 
mention of these chains. He merely says, “ On the 
south side of Conde Uda is a hill, supposed to be the 
highest on this island, called in the Chingulay language, 
Hamatlell ; but by the Portuguese and other European 
nations, Adam’s Peak. It is sharp like a sugar-loaf, and 
on the top a flat stone with the print of a foot like a 
man’s on it, but far bigger, being about two feet long. 
The people of this land count it meritorious to go and 
worship this impression ; and generally about their new 
year, which is in March, they, men, women, and children, 
go up this vast and high mountain to worship.” 

__ Mr. Marshall and his: companion reached the top of 
the cone about two hours after they had begun to ascend 
at its base. They fourid that its narrow apex, which was 
only twenty-three paces long by eighteen broad, was 
surrounded by a wall, in which there were two distinct 
openings to admit pilerims, corresponding to the two 
tracks by which alone the imountain can be ascended. 
The elevation of this apex is 6800 feet above the level of 
the sea ; the granitic peak or cone resting upon a very 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


foot-mark, 


[June 8, 


high mountain belonging to the cliain which forms the 


rampart of the upper country. Nearly in the centre of 
the enclosed area they saw a large rock, one side of 
which is shelving, and can be easily ascended. On the 
top of this mass, which is of granite, there stands a small 
Square wooden shed, fastened to the rock, as-also to the 
outer walls, by means of heavy chains. ‘This security is 
necessary to prevent the edifice being hurled from its 
narrow base by the violence of the winds. ‘The roof and 
posts of this little building, which is used to cover the 
Sri Pade, or holy foot-mark, was adorned with flowers 
and artificial fisures made of party-coloured cloth. The 
impression in the rock they found to have been formed 
in part by the chisel, and in part by elevating its outer 
border with hard mortar: all the elevations which mark 
the spaces between the toes of the feot have been made 
of lime and sand. ‘The impression, which is five feet 
and a half long, two feet and a half broad, and from one 
and a half to two inches deep, is encircled by a border of 
gilded copper in which are set a few valueless gems. ‘To 
use Mr. Marshall’s words, ‘‘ According to the books 
respecting Buddhoo, it appears that he stepped from the 
top of the peak to the kingdom of Siam. ‘lhe Buddhists 
profess to believe that the impression is a mark made by 
the last foot of Buddhoo which left Ceylon.” We be- 
lieve it was the Arabs*, who traded here in very early 
ages, that first changed the hero of the tale, and gave the 
foot-mark to Adain, our first father. 

On Mr. Marshall’s arrival he found between forty and 
fifty pilerims, who had ascended in an opposite direction, 
already there. ‘They performed their devotions without 
heeding the strangers, and then suddenly departed, and 
descended the mountain, without seeming to look to the 
right or to the left. 

During the day smal! parties of pilgrims continued to 
arrive from time to time. ‘They were of all ages—somie 
mere children, and others decrepit from old age. As 
they entered the area they immediately approached the 
rock in the centre, and gradually ascended to the holy 
They did not go under the shed, but stood 
facing the end of the impression which is intended to 
mark the toes. Here they made a number of most 
profound reverences, by putting the palms of the hands 
together, and holding them. before the face, or raising 
them above the head. While thus employed they 
appeared to be muttering some words. They then 
presented their offerings which were all deposited in the 
sacred impression for a time, and consisted of copper 
money, rice, cocoa-nuts, cotton cloth, handkerchiefs, 
betel leaves, flowers, onions, ornaments for the shed that 
covers the impression, a lock of the hair of the head, or 
a portion of the beard. ‘They remained on the rock a 
few minutes, making profound reverence to the holy 
foot-mark, and then descended and formed a line in 
the area, with their faces still towards the impression. 
Then one of the group opened a small book, formed of 
palm leaves,: arid chaunted some passages from it. At 
the termination of each passage, men, women, and 
children joined in a loud chorus of responses. These 
passages consisted of their five commandments, which 
are all prolibitory and forbid,— . 

Ist. Killing any living creature. 
2d. Stealing. 

3d. Committing ‘adultery. — 

Ath. Uttering a falsehood. 

6th. Drinking intoxicating liqnors. 

When this was over the pileriins went to two bells 
hung on frames near the central rock, “aud individually 
rang one of them, by pulling a string attached to the 
clapper. They then took some Strips of cloth which had 

*'“ The Mussulmais of Hindostan,” says Mr. Marshall, “ make 
pilgrimages to the peak; and, according to report, the reason they. 
assign for visiting this mountain is, that they believe the impression 
to be that of Adam, our first parent.’’, 


1833.] 


been previously dipped in oil or ghee (liquid butter), 
lit them at one end, and placed them upon an iron 
stand, erected for the purpose, or upon the edge of a 
large stone. : 

On a shelf of the-same rock on which the foot is 
traced, there is also a small temple dedicated to Vishnu, 
whom the pilgrims conciliate with offerings of small 
sums of money. All the ceremonies were finished in 
less than a quarter of an hour, when the party instantly 
proceeded to the opening in the wall, and left the area 
free to those whose next turn it was. . 


Two Buddhist priests were on duty to take charge of 


the offerings of the devout *, which are forwarded at the 
end of the season to the chief priest at Kandy. ‘The 
average annual amount is about £250 sterling, an im- 
portant sum for that people. ‘These priests only reside 
in this lofty solitude during the period when pilgrims 
visit it, or from January to April inclusive, being the 
dry season on the west side of the island. During the 
wet months the peak is commonly enveloped in clouds, 
and the ascent to it impracticable. ‘They were attended 
by a boy, and occupied a little hut immediately without 
the encircling walls. They strenuously objected (as did 
also the natives who had accompanied Mr. Marshall and 
his friend) to the English travellers remaining there all 
night, saying that disease and other calamities would be 
the inevitable consequence of their so doing. ‘Their 
motive for this objection arose out of their belief, that 
such a long stay of white men at the sacred spot would 
be displeasing to their divinities. 

Seeing however that the travellers, who had deter- 
mined to stay, would not be moved from their purpose, 
the senior priest gave them a number of plants, solemnly 
assuring them, that by wearine a part of one of them as 
an amulet, they would be protected from the attack of 
bears. In like manner parts of other plants were calcu- 
lated to defend them from wild elephants; and others 
from devils, sickness, &c. &c. One herb that he offered, 
he said was a sure preservative against misfortunes, 
sickness. and every kind of evil. 

Mr. Marshall and Mr. Sawers took up their quarters 
in a low hut about six feet square, which stood close to 
the rock of the holy mark. They amused themselves 
in watching the singular atmospheric effects, and the 
grandeur, and at times the eccentric motions of the 
clouds, as they were observable from that height at 
different times of the day, and by moonlight, and at the 
rising of the sun the next morning. 

We give Mr. Marshall’s description of moonlight and 
sun-rise :-— 

‘“ By midnight the clouds had subsided to the lower 
strata of the atmosphere, and appeared to be all lying on 
the surface of the earth, The moon shone bright, by 
Which means we had a macuificent view of the upper 
surface of a dense stratum of white fleecy cloud. It is 
impossible to convey in words the grandeur of this 
scene. ‘I'he surface of the earth was overspread with a 
covering resembling the finest white down, through 
which many dark-coloured mountains: and cliffs pro- 


jected. Could we conceive a white sea studded over. 


with islands extremely various in size and figure, a faiut 
idea might be entertained of the prospect from the peak 
during the nicht. 

‘The clouds continued to rest undisturbed on the 
bosom of the earth until a little after’ six o’clock.- For 
some time before sun-rise the sky’ towards the east had 
a bright flame colour, indicative’ of the approach of day. 
The sun burst forth suddenly -in all: his glory: not a 
cloud intervened to dim his splendour. - Immediately 
after the rising of the sun, thé shadow of the peak 
appeared like an immense cone ‘or ‘triangle stretching 


* The only services they have to perform besides this seems to 
be, to go‘to the impression of the foot before the sun sets, to ring a 
bell over it, to fan it with a small fan, and to cover it with flowers, 
making between whiles a vast number of profound reverences, 


sion, and clear development of the story. 


‘before the .Saviour. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 219 


to the edge of the western horizon. In a few minutes 
the base of the shadow approached the foot of the moun- 
tain. Soon after the appearance of the sun, lieht float- 
ing vapours began to rise from the upper surface of the 
clouds, which were quickly dissolved in the superincum-. 
bent stratum of transparent air.” - 

Immediately without the wall that encircles the area, 
and for a few yards down the declivity of the rock, there 
grows a species of rhododendron, with large crimson- 
coloured flowers, and very thick leaves. 

The travellers descended the cone by the opposite 
route leading to Saffragam, which they found to be stil] 
more abrupt than that by which they had ascended 
coming from Kandy. In several places it led them 
across bare, slippery, precipitous rocks. There were no 
steps cut, as on the other side of the cone, but in the 
more difficult and dangerous places there were strong 
iron chains fastened to the rock, to assist ascent and 
descent. At two or three turns the view downward was 
grand and awful in the extreme, the cone at these points 
seeming to overhang the lower mountain, by which 
means the eye plunged perpendicularly almost to the 
base of the peak. Meanwhile the sun shining brightly 
upon the space where the view terminated at the bottom - 
of the mountain, increased thereby the sublimity of the 
prospect. ‘It is impossible,” says Mr. Marshall, in 
concluding his interesting sketch of this remarkable 
place, ‘“‘to describe the terrific grandeur of the scene’; 
but indeed the prespect is so frightful, that I believe it 
is rarely contemplated with due composure.” 


THE CARTOONS OF RAFFAELLE—No. 6. 
THE MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT OF FISHES. 


However slender the materials, or few the incidents 
supplied by his subject, the compositions of Raffaelle are 
never meagre or common-place. ‘The eartoon of Christ 
calling Peter and Andrew, or, as itis more frequently 
named, the Miraculous Draught of Fishes, has fewer 
figures and a less complicated arrangement than any 
other of the series. Nevertheless, it has all Raffaelle’s 
characteristics ;—simplicity, perspicuity, emphatic expres- 
Christ having 
entered the boat for the purpose of addressing the people 
who had collected on the shore of the lake of Gen- 
nesaret, and having finished his discourse, desired the 
fishermen to ‘launch out into the deep, and Jet down 
the nets for a draught. Simon Peter answering, said 
unto him, Master, we have toiled all night and have 
taken nothing ; nevertheless, at thy word, I will let down 
the net.” Christ’s discourse, to which Peter had been 
previously listening, and the miraculous draught of fishes 
which ensued, convinced Peter that le was in the presence 
of a being of superior nature; and his exclamation, 
“ Depart from me, for [am a sinful man, O Lord!” 
expresses the fear and reverence cousequent on that 
impression.—This is the point of the narrative which 
Raffaelle has chosen: Peter has fallen on his knees 
before Christ, who re-assures hin with an expression of 
gentle benignity, announcing at the same time the high 
vocation to which he had appointed him,—‘‘ Fear not, 
froma henceforth thou shalt bea fisher of men.” Andrew, 
the brother of Peter, who likewise became a disciple, 
stands behind, and is also about to prostrate himself 
In a series of designs compre- 
hending the acts of the Apostles, the propriety of choice 
in this subject is obvious: one of the most extraordinary 
circumstances in the history of Christianity is the asto- 
nishing results produced by -agents of such humble 
origin, and apparently so inadequate to so mighty a 
task. Here we see them engaged in their original 
avocation ; but netwithstanding the homely garb of the 
fishermen, we perceive in the grand character of their 
heads, and in the solemn sentiment which seems to 
inspire them, indicaticas of power which aw ane! to be 
2 


220 THE PENNY MAGAZINE, [June 8, 


fit instruments for the great undertaking which they were | at the moment, when, having been called by Peter and 
called:on to accomplish. The figure of Christ, who sits | Andrew to their assistance, they are strenuously endea- 
apart in the stern of the boat, is simple and majestic. | vouring to draw up the overladen net. The action of 
The second boat is occupied by Zebedee and his two sons, | these two figures, besides giving a picturesque variety to 
James and John, who also “forsook all, and followed | the effect, adds force to the mental expression of Peter 


Christ.” In the cartoon, however they are merely seen | and Andrew. 


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Much eriticism has been expended on the smallness of 
those boats. In what relates to the scriptural text, their 
small dimensions are fully justified, as they are described 
/to have been in danger of sinking from the weight of 
the fish thrown into them. But setting aside that con- 
sideration, Raffaelle, in making them entirely subordi- 
nate, acted only on an acknowledged rule in art, which 
demands that inferior objects are always to be sacrificed 
when they are likely to come in competition with the 
principal. 


The aquatic character of this cartoon, so dissimilar 
from the rest, gives it, especially in the original pictures 
and in the tapestries copied from them, a peculiar look 
of novelty and freshness. Raffaelle, who is in all things 
characteristic, has not indicated a shallow stream merely, 
but a broad lake which occupies the whole expanse of 
the picture. Allis in unison. The water-fowl are not 
only proper to the scene, but assist the perspective by the 
interposition of their large dark forms; they serve also 
to break the uniformity which would otherwise have 
resulted from the extended lines of the two boats. 





1833. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrion 9. 
ORGANIC REMAINS. 


We find in the lowest beds of the series of the secon- 
dary strata that the organic remains consist chiefly of 
corals and shells; that is, of animals having a compara- 
tively simple anatomical structure, and that as we ascend 
in the series, the proportion of animals of more compli- 
cated forms increases, the bones of land quadrupeds 
being almost entirely confined to the more recent mem- 
bers of the tertiary strata. From these circumstances, 
it is a received opinion among certain geologists, that 
the first animals which were created were of an exceed- 
ingly simple structure, that they gradually becaine more 
complex in their frame, and that at last the highly com- 
plicated mechanism of the human body was the com- 
pletion of those repeated efforts of nature towards per- 
fection. It has been further maintained that there has 
been an uninterrupted succession in the animal kingdom 
effected by means of generation, from the earliest ages of 
the world tothe present day; that new species and trans- 
formations have been gradually. produced by the growth 
of new parts, originating from certain efforts of the animal 
to fulfil particular instincts, such:as the foot of a bird 
becoming webbed, from repeated efforts to swim; and 
that the ancient animals which we find in a fossil state, 
however different in structure they may be, were in 
fact the ancestors of those now living. Those who 
are desirous of seeine a clear statement of this doctrine 
of the gradual development of animal life, and at the 
same time an equally clear exposition of its unsoundness, 
will find both in the first and second chapters of the 
second volume of Lyell’s Principles of Geology. 

Although it be true, that in the lower strata there is a 
large proportion of the remains of animals which possess 
an apparently simple structure, nothing can be more un- 
sound than to found upon such observations a doctrine 
such as we have above stuted. What we have at one 
time called simple has again and again been afterwards 
found to be exceedingly the reverse, so that the term is 
really nothing more than an expression of our ignorance, 
a statement of the limit beyond which we have not yet 
been able to advance. ‘The animalcules called Infusoria, 
are living creatures found in stagnant waters, so wonder- 
fully minute that they are invisible to the naked eye, (a 
collection of many thousand individuals occupying no 
greater space than the tenth part of.an inch.) For a lone 
time after they were discovered by means of the micro- 
scope, they were thought to be little more than specks of 
animal matter endowed with locomotive powers, but the 
ingenious researches of Ehrenberg, a philosopher of 
Berlin, who employed a very powerful instrument, laid 
open to our wondering sight a new creation. That dis- 
tinguished naturalist has shown that these animalcules 
are provided with limbs and organs, and with a system 
of vessels and nerves; and even ficures of their teeth 
accompany his curious memoir. Thus, the lowest member 
in the supposed graduated scale of animal structure, 
in place of being a simple body, is probably a very 
complicated piece. of mechanism. Besides, corals and 
shells, though of most frequent occurrence, ‘are not 
the only animal remains found in the lower strata, 
for recent observations have discovered in these rocks 
the vertebre cor joints of the backbone of fishes, as 
well as other parts belonging to them, and even im- 
pressions of entire fish have been met with. Now 
one single undoubted specimen of an animal of that 
description, found in such a situation, is as conclusive 
as ten thousand would be in overthrowing the whole 
doctrine, that there has been a gradual development of 
structure in animal life as we ascend from the lowest to 
the uppermost strata. 

A most curious circumstance connected with fossils is 


the unequivocal evidence they afford of there having | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


Sp 


been formerly a completely different state of our planet 
with regard to climates, from that which now exists: 
Throughout all the strata, from the lowest inember of 
the secondary series up to the last layer lying imme- 
diately beneath that which, in seological Pa dstiaoc 1s 
termed a formation of the recent period, we fiud if ott 
northern latitudes numerous remains of animals aud 


plants belonging to genera which are now only known to 


exist 1n tropical climates,’ In the most northern part of 
Asiatic Siberia, at the mouth of the River Lena, which 
flows into the Arctic Ocean; in the 70th degree of latitude, 
there are vast accumulations of the bones of an extinct 
species of elephant, and in such a state of preservation 
that a great’ part of the ivory used in St. Petersburg is 
brought from thence. Indeed the quantiiy is so creat 
that a Russian naturalist has stated it as his belief that: 
the number of elephants now living on the globe must 
be greatly inferior to those which occur in a fossil state 
in those parts of Siberia. ‘Ihe entire carcass of one ot. 
those animals was found enclosed ina mass of ice, where 
it must have remained incased for thousands of years ; 
and yet, from the preservative quality of the ice, the 
flesh was in such a state that when it was disentombed. 
by the accidental breaking up of the mass, it was de- 
voured by the wolves and other wild animals. Then 
as to plants, specimens of rocks have been brought 
from Melville Jsiand, the remote northern Jand dis- 
covered in our late polar expeditions, some of which 
contain, imbedded in the stone, portions of plants be- 
longing to an order now known only to exist in the 
warmest parts of the equatorial regions. The greatest 
degree of heat seems to have existed during the depo- 
sition of the inferfor beds of the secondary strata; and 
it appears also, from the nature of the fossil plants found 
in these strata, that there must have existed, at the same 
time, a very considerable degree of moisture in the atmo- 
sphere. ‘The neat seems to have gradually diminished, 
so that-at last, during the deposition of the most recent 
of the tertiary strata, the climate of the northern hemi- 
sphere does not appear to have been very different from 
what it is now. - | oe az 
To endeavonr to account for this wonderful change 
in the temperature of the northern latitudes, is one ot 
the most difficult problems in the physical history of the. 
globe, because it involves such a variety of considera- 
tions; and we know that the most important and ex- 
tensive changes in’ the forms of organized bodies are 
brought:about by very nice shades of difference in the 
circumstances of climate and soil under which they are: 
placed. In the earlier states of geolorey many theories 
were started: the earth was said to have been originally 
in a highly heated state, to have eradually cooled, and it 
was maintained that during the progress of cooling the 
various changes in climate took place; according to 
another theory, the position of the axis of the earth was 
at one time different from what it is now; and was so: 
directed that the polar regions were exposed to a much 
more direct action of the solar rays ; but the inventors 
of these theories did not trouble themselves much with 
inquiring whether they were in harmony with the laws 
which: reculate the motions of the heavenly bodiés; and 
when they were subjected to the examination of the 
astronomer, they could not stand the test of his severe 
investigations. An ingenious theory has been lately 
proposed by Mr. Lyell, in the first volume of his ‘ Prin- 
ciples of Geology, which calls in no extraordinary 
agency, and assumes no condition of the globe incon- 
sistent with the established laws of nature of which 
we have had experience. His theory is, that all the 
indications of the former prevalence of warmer climates 
may be accounted for by a different distribution of Jand 
and water; and we know from geological appearances, 
that a very different proportion of superficial land and 
water must formerly have existed in the northern 


222 


hemisphere from that which we now find. It is not 
very easy ‘to state the grounds of this theory in- an 
abridged form; but the following explanation will per- 
haps .convey an intelligible idea ‘of it-. Wherever 
there is a great expanse of: water, like the sea, -there is 
always a more uniform temperature in the adjoining 
countries throughout the year, less extremes of heat and 
cold. On the contrary, extensive tracts of land are 
liable to considerable vicissitudes ; and hence the diffe- 
rence of an insular and continental climate in the same 
parallel .of latitude. Moscow and Edinburgh are very 
riearly in the same latitude, but while at the latter place 
there is neither extreme cold nor excessive heat, at Mos- 
cow the cold in winter is sometimes so intense as to 
freeze quicksilver, and there are often days in summer 
as hot as at Naples. In like manner, the higher you 
ascend, the air becomes colder; and thus in lofty moun- 
tains, such as Attna, the sugar-cane erows at the foot, 
and the lichen, or moss of Iceland, at the summit. In 
the lofty mountains of South America there are regions 
of eternal snow uncer an equatorial sun. If we suppose, 
therefore, extensive . continents, lofty mountains, and 
numerous islauds to have existed in southern latitudes 
where there is now a wide expanse of sea, and an ocean 
to have occupied the place of northern Europe and Asia, 
it will-be readily conceived, from the principles above 
stated, that very dilferent climates would exist in the 
northern hemisphere from what now prevail. 

All the solid strata most abundant in animal remains 
are either limestones or contain a large proportion of 
lime in their composition. Many thick beds of clay also 
abound in them; but in that case limestone in some form 
or other is generally associated with the clay. From this 
it has been inferred, and not without a strong semblance 
of probability, that animals have mainly contributed to 
the formation of many limestone strata, in the same way 
as we see them now at work forming vast limestone rocks 
in the coral reefs of the Pacific Ocean. A reef of this 
sort extends for three hundred and fifty miles along the 
east coast’ of New Holland, and between that country 
and New Guinea the coral formations have been found 
to extend, with very short intervals, throughout a dis- 
tance of seven hundred miles. Of all the forms of 
organized bodies which are found in a fossil state, from 
the lowest stratum in which they occur to those of most 
modern date, shells and corals constitute by far the 
greatest proportion. . All the strata must have been 
deposited in seas or lakes, and itis therefore natural that 
animals living in water should be most abundant; besides, 
as shells aud corals are not lable to decay, they remain, 
while the soft boneless animals wich inhabit them 
perish entirely ; and fish-bones, being. more perishable 
than shells, are comparatively rare. Fossil shells and 
corals present, in general, no forms that would appear 
as any thing peculiar to an ordinary observer who had 
seen a collection of existing shells, and it would there- 
fore convey no useful geological information were we to 
give representations of them. ~But there are a few of 
the extinct genera of marine animals that are different 
in form from any tling that now exists, and we propose 
to give in our next section some examples of these. 





LONGEVITY. 
At page 26 of the first volume of the Penny Magazine 


there is a notice of some remarkable instances of excep- | 


tion to the ordinary duration of human life; such as 
Demetrius Grabowsky, who died lately in Poland, at 
the age of one hundred and sixty-nine years. [t is 
added that Jenkins, the oldest: man on record in Eng- 
land, lived exactly as ‘long as the Polish shepherd. A 
correspondent (Dr. Edmund Fry): has favoured us with 
the foilowing epitaph on Jenkins, from his monument in 
the churci: of. Bolton-upon-Swale. The inscription was 
written by Dr. Thomas Chapman, 


THE PENNY -MAGAZINE. 


[ June 8, 


‘ Blush not marble! 
_ To rescue from oblivion 
The memory of 
Henry Jenkins, 
A person, obscure in birth, 
But of a life.truly memorable; 
For 
He was enriched 
With the goods of nature, 
If not of fortune ; 
And happy in the duration, 
If not variety, 
Of his enjoyments. 

And though the partial world 
Despised and disregarded 
His low and humble state, 

The equal eye of Providence 

Beheld and blessed it 
With a patriarch’s health 
And length of days ; 
To teach mistaken man 
These blessings 

Were entailed on temperance, 

A life of labour, and a mind at case; 
He lived to the amazing age 
Of 169 years! 


Iie was interred here, the 6th December, 


And had this justice done to his memory, 
1743.” 


Our correspondent proceeds to give the two following 
instances of extraordinary longevity; the latter of which, 
although the most remarkable case on record, appears 
to have excited little attention. 

On a long freestone slab in Caerey Church, near 
Cardiff, in the county of Glamorgan, is the following 
inscription, in capitals, round the ledge :— 

“ Here lyeth the Bo- 
Dy of Witi1am Epwos of the 
Cairey, who departed 
This life the 24 of Feb- 
Ruary Anno Domini 1668, Anno 
Que etatis sue 168,” 


On the body of the stone :— 
“O happy change! 
And ever blest 
When greefe and pain is 
Changed to rest.” . 
In the ‘ County Chronicle’ of December 13, 1791, a 
paragraph was inserted, stating that Thomas Cam, ac- 
cording to the parish register of St. Leonard, Shoreditch, 
died the 28th January, 1588, aged 207 years! ‘The 
correspondent of that paper adds, ‘* This 1s an instance 
of longevity, so far exceeding any other on record, that 
one is disposed .to, suspect- some mistake, either in the 
register or in the extract.” Our correspondent, having 
lately met with this paragraph in his common-place 
book, determined, he says, to apply to the parish-clerk 
of St. Leonard’s, from whom he, at length, obtained an 
extract from the register of burials, a literal copy of 
which is subjoined :— 








Fol: 35. 


1588. BURIALLES 





e 
Tuomas Cam was buriel* y 22 inst of 
Januarye Aged 207 years 
Holywell Street 


Gro. GARROW 
Parish Clerk 


Copy Aug* 25, 1832 


a aPET 





“Tt thus appears,’ adds our correspondent, ‘ that 
Cam was born in the year 1381, in the fourth of Richard 
II., living through the reign of that monarch ; and 
through those of the whole of the following sovereigns, 
viz. Henry IV., Henry V., Henry VI., Edward IV., 
Edward V., Richard III., Henry Vil., Henry VIII., 
Edward Vi., Mary, and to the thirtieth of Elizabeth.” 


* The word buried is correctly copied from the onginal. 


1833.] 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


223. 


Such an extreme duration of life is, however, contrary to | description of London in the reign of Henry II., the 
all recorded experience; and unless the fact can be sup- } gates of the city were seven in number, and- are conjec- 


ported by other evidence, it is reasonable to conclude 
that the entry in the register is inaccurate. 





THE VOICE OF SPRING. 


I comm, I come! ye have call’d me long, 

I come o’er the mountains with hight and song ! 
Ye may trace my step o’er the wakening carih, 
By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth, 

By the primrose-stars in the shadowy grass, 

By the green leaves opening as I pass. 


I have breathed on the South, and the chesnut-flowers, 
By thousands, have burst from the forest-bowers, 

And the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes, 

Are veil’d with wreaths on Italian plains. 

—But it is not for me, in my hour ef bloom, 

To speak of the ruin or the tomb! 


I have pass‘d o’er the hills of the stormy North, 

And the larch has hung all his tassels forth, 

The fisher is out on the sunny sea, 

And the rein-deer bounds through the pasture free, 
And the pine has a fringe of softer green, | 
And the moss looks bight where my step has been. 


I have sent through the wood-paths a gentle sigh, 
And call’d out each voice of the deep-blue sky, 
From the night-bird’s lay through the starry time, 
In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, 

To the swan’s wild note by the Iceland lakes, 
When the dark fir-bough into verdure breaks. 


From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain; 
They are sweeping on to the silvery main, 

They are flashing down from the mountain-brows, 
They are flingmg spray on the forest-boughs, 

They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, 

And the earth resounds with the joy of waves. 


Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! 
Where the violets he may be now your home. 

Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, 

And the bounding footstep to meet me fly, 

With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, 
Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay ! 


The summer is hastening, on soft winds bome, 

Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn ; 

For me I depart to a brighter shore,— 

Ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more. 

I go where the loved who have left you dwell, 

And the flowers are not Death’s,—fare ye well, farewell ! 


Mus. Hemans. 


TEMPLE BAR. 


Lonpon does not appear to have been surrounded with 
a wall, and fortified, till about the commencement, or, 
-as Others conjecture, towards the close of the fourth 
century. The enclosure which the Romans then threw 
around it is stated to have been twenty-two feet in 
height, strengthened at intervals with towers which were 
forty feet high. From the remains of it, which were 
examined about the beginning of the last century by Dr. 
Woodward, it was fuund to have been nine feet thick at 
the foundation, and to have been built of Roman tiles or 
bricks, cemented with a mortar which had become as 
hard as the stone. It seems to have commenced at the 
Tower; from which point it proceeded along the Mino- 
ries and Houndsditch, crossed Bishopsgate, followed 
nearly the line of the present London-wall to. Fore- 
Street, turned thence across Aldersgate, then took a 
‘south-west direction upon Newegate-street, and following 
tlle same course across Ludgate-hill, terminated on the 
river at the end of the present New Bridge-street, where 
Blackfriars Bridge is now built. The entire circuit was 
rather above two miles. 


In the time of Fitzstephen, who wrote his curidus 


tured to have been the Postern-gate on 'Tower-hill, 
Ald-gate, Bishops-gate, Cupple-gate, Alders-pate, New- 
gate, and Lud-gate. - Moor-gate, at the north end of 
Coleman-street, was afterwards added in the begin- 
ning of the fifteenth century. There were also leading 
to the river, along the northern bank of which there had 
at one time extended a wall between the Tower and 
Blackfriars Bridge, Bridge-wate on London Bridge, and 
others called by Stow, Dow-gate, Wolf-gate, Eb-cate, 
Puddle-dock-eate, Oyster-eate, Butolphs-e@ate, Billings- 
gate, and the Water-@ates at the Tower and Custom 
House. ut these seem to have been rather what we 
should now call wharves, being merely landing-places for 
merchandize. : 

From this sketch, it appears that Temple Bar, now 
the only reinaining city-gate, is not on the line of the 
original city-wall at all. Here, “ in ancient times,” says 
Maitland, wriung about the middle of the last century, 
“were only posts, rails, and a chain, such as now are at 
Holborn, Smithfield, and Whitechapel Bars.  Aiter- 


wards there was a house of timber erected ‘across the 


Street, with a narrow gateway, and an entry on the 


pacers nt eet epee EEE ip ater tl A I ARS 


south side of it, under the house. But since the great 
fire, there is erected a very stately gate, with two posterns, 
one on each side, for the convenience of foot-passengers, 
with strong gates to shut up in the nights, and always 
e'ood store of watchmen, the better to prevent danger. 
This wate is built all of Portland stone, of rustic work 
below, and of the Corinthian order. Over the gateway, 
on the east side, fronting the city of London, in two 
niches, are the effigies in stone of Queen Elizabeth and 
King James 1., very curiously carved, and the king’s 
arms over the keystone of the gate, the supporters being 
at a distance over the rustic work. And on the west 
side, fronting the city of Westminster, in two niches, are 
the like fieures of King Charles I. and King Charles IT, 
in Roman habits. ‘Through this gate are two passages 
for foot-passengers ; one on the south, over which is en- 
graven, ‘ Erected, Sir Samuel Starling, being Maior.’ 
And another, on the north, over which is engraven, 
‘ Continued, Sir Richard Ford, Maior; finished, Sir 
George Waterman, Maior. ‘The State, since the erec- 
tion of this @ate, has particularly distinguished it, by 
ordering the heads of such as are executed for rebellion 
or high treason to be fixed on the top thereof” 

This particular description will save us the necessity 
of entering into any further architectural details, ‘The 
eate was built by Sir Christopher Wren, but is certainly 
not one of his happiest works. ‘The fignres and other 
ornamental parts of the structure are now greatly oblite- 
rated; but the statues of Charles I. and II. were at one 
time regarded as having some merit. ‘The shutting of 
the gate every night, which took place in Maitland’s 
time, is now dispensed with; that ceremony being’ only 
performed ‘on occasion of the King going to the city, 
when the royal procession is not admitted till a pursui- 
vet has knocked, and permission has been granted by 
the Lord Mayor. The propriety of taking down Temple 
Bar altogether has been urged for at least the last filty 
or sixty years ;-and it seems to have been at one time 
determined that it should be removed. ‘The demolition, 
however, about the beginning of the present century, of 
the old pile of buildings called ‘Butcher Row on the 
north side of the Strand, by widening the street imme- 
diately to the west, has been the means of preserving 
this last remaining land-mark of the peculiar jurisdiction 


of the city. Before this improvement the outlet here 


was narrow and inconvenient to the last degree. It was 
known by the name of the Pass, under which it 1s -fre- 


-quently mentioned in the ‘ Spectator.’— (See Nos. 498, 


526, 534, &c.) 


THE PENNY. 


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The distinction which Maitland speaks of, as having 
been conferred upon this gate by the State selecting it as 
a station for the exhibition of the heads of dead traitors, 
is now to be reckoned only among its remembered 
honours. The State has ceased to indulge in these bar- 
barous exhibitions. The last heads that were thus ex- 
hibited, were those of some of the persons who suffered 
after the rebellion of 1745. The horrible show excited, 
as might be supposed, no little curiosity. Horace Wal- 
pole, in one of his letters, dated 16th August, 1746, says, 
‘* [ have been this morning at the Tower, and passed 
under the new heads at Temple Bar, where people make 
a trade of letting spy-glasses at a halfpenny a look.” It 
is hard] possible to conceive any thing more revolting!y 
unsuitable’ than such an exhibition in the heart of a 
crowded and busy city. Mr. Brayley, in his Londiniana, 
mentions that one of the iron poles or spikes above the 
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of public feeling, that such an ensign of old barbarity 

will ever be replaced. Sometimes the heads thus ex- 
posed were allowed to bleach for years in the sun and 
rain, when at last the wind would blow them down into 
the street. This, Nichols, in his Literary Anecdotes, 
mentions, happened to the head of Counsellor Layer, 
as he was called, who was executed for high treason at 
Tyburn, on the 17th of May, 1723. It was picked up 
by Mr. John Pearce, an attorney, a gentleman who 
resided in the neighbourhood. How strangely it would 
sound in the present day to hear of the skull of some 
well-known character being thus kigna about one of our 
principal streets. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. | 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 





Printed by Witrram Crowes, Stamford Street. 





1833 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


47.4 


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[View of the Peter Botte Mountain. ] 


Vor, II. 


226 


ASCENT OF THE PETER BOTTE MOUNTAIN, 
MAURITIUS, ON THE 7th SEPTEMBER, 1832. 
In the third volume (recently published) of the Journal 
of the Royal Geographical Society, there appears an 
account of a very extraordinary exploit which has been 
lately performed by a party of our countrymen—the 
ascent of the mountain known by the name of Peter 
Botte, in the Mauritius. ‘The island called the Mau- 
ritius and the Isle of Bourbon lie near to each other, 
off the east coast of Africa, having however the great 
island of Madagascar between them and that continent. 
They were first “discovered in the sixteenth century by 
Pedro Mascarenhas, a Portuguese, ‘from whom. the 


group to which they belong is sometimes called that of 


the Mascarenhas. Its discoverer himself gave to the 
Mauritius the name of Iiha do Cerno. ‘The Portuguese, 
however, never formed a settlement here; and in 1598 
the island was taken possession of by the Dutch admiral 
Van Nek, who called it by the name by which it is now 
commonly known, after Maurice, Prince of Orange. The 
Dutch finding it of little use, although they had begun 
to colonize it in 1640, abandoned it altowether in 171 12; 
and in 1721 the French, who had been already for some 
time in possession of the neighbouring Isle of Bourbon, 
began to colonize) it. From them it received the name 
of the Isle of France, and they retained it till December, 
1810, when it was taken from them by the English, It 
still remains a British colony. 

The Mauritius is extremely mountainous, and exhibits 
In every part of it the marks of volcanic action. Powe 
of the mountains are between two and three thousand 
feet in height, and are covered with snow during a great 
part of the year. Among them are several that assume 
the most singnlar and fantastic shapes; but the most 
extraordinary. in its appearance is that which hears. the 
name of Peter Botte, from a person who is said by 
tradition to have climbed to its summit many years aga, 
and to have lost his life in coming down again. ‘This, 
however, is a mere unanthenticated rumour; and even if 
the attempt was actually made by the person in question, 
it is evident that the fate which overtook him must have 
rendered it impossible to say whether he succeeded i in his 
enterprise or not. In point of fact, the tap of the 
mountain has been usually regarded as quite inac- 
cessible, notwithstanding the boast of a Frenchman 
about forty years ago that he had succeeded | in reaching 
it. The attempt has also been several times ‘made ‘by 
our own countrymen since the island became : a British 
possession; but always till now in vain. Tf he exploit, 
however, has been at length accomplished in the caurse 
of the last year. The account of its successful performance 
is given in a letter from one of the parties in the enter- 
prise, which was communicated to the Geographical 
Society by Mr. Barrow. We have been permitted to 
copy from the journal the striking representation of the 
mountain which accompanied the ‘ original account. 
‘From most points of view,” says the writer, “it seems 
to rise out of the range which runs nearly parallel to 
that part of the sea-coast which forms the bay of Port 
Louis (the capital, situated on the west side of the 
island); but on arriving at its base, you find ‘that it is 
actually separated from ‘the rest of the range by a ravine 
or r cleft of a tremendous Lat The mountain appears 


a ore 


they mk a laden which did sai “however, reach half 
way up the perpendicular face of rock beyond. Still, 
Captain Lloyd was convinced, that with proper prepa- 
ration the feat might be accomplished. Accordingly, on 
the morning of the 7th September last this gentleman, 
along with ieutenemnt Phillpotts of the 29th Regiment, 
Lieutenant Keppel, R.N., and Lieutenant Taylor, the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


-was safe under the neck. 


te i 


writer of the letter, set out on the bold and perilous ad- 
venture. ‘ All our preparations being made,’ says the 
narrative, “‘ we started, and a more picturesque line of 
march I have seldom seen. Our van was composed of 
about fifteen or twenty sepoys in every variety of costume, 
together with a few negroes carrying our food, dry 
clothes, &c. Our path lay up a very steep ravine, formed 
by the rains in the wet season, which, having loosened 
all the stones, made it any thing but pleasant ; those 
below were obliged to keep a bri oht look-out for tumbling 
rocks, and one of these missed Keppel and myself by a 


Pd) 


oeenwte Hee 


Along this path, which was not a foot broad, they 
picked ‘their way for about four hundred yards, the 
negroes keeping their footing firm under their loads, by 
catching hold as they proceeded of the shrubs above 
them. "We must allow Lieutenant Taylor to continue 
the story in his own words :— 

‘On rising to the shoulder, a view burst upon us 
which quite defies my descriptive powers. We stood on 
a little narrow ledge or neck of land, about twenty yards 
in length. On the side which we mounted, we looked 
back into the deep wooded gorge we had passed up; 
while on the opposite side of the neck, which was be- 
tween six and seven feet broad, the precipice went sheer 
down fifteen hundred feet to the plain. One extremity 
of the neck was equally precipitous, and the other was 
bounded by what to me was the most magnificent sight 
Tever saw. <A narrow, knife-lile edge of rock, broken 
here and there by precipitous faces, ran up in a conical 
form to about three hundred or three hundred and fifty 
feet above us; and on the very piunacle old ‘ Peter 
Botte’ frowned i in all his glory. 

- © After a short rest we proceeded to work. The 
ladder (see sketch) had been left by Lloyd and Dawkins 
last year. It was about twelve feet high, and reached, 
as you may perceive, ahout halfway up a face of per- 
pendicular rock. The foot, which was spiked, rested on 
a ledge, not quite visible in the sketch, with barely three 
inches on each side. A grapnel-line had been also left 
last year, but was not used. A negro of Lloyd's clam- 
bered from the top of the ladder by the cleft in the face 
of the rock, not trusting his weight to the old and rotten 
line. He carried a small cord round his middle ; > and 
it was fearful to see the cool, steady way in which he 
climbed, where a single loose stone or false hold must 
have ‘sent him doy wn into the abyss; however, he fear- 
lessly scrambled away tili at length we heard him halloo 
from under the neck “all right.’ These negroes use 
their feet “exactly like monkeys, srasping with them 
every projection almost as firmly as with their hands. 
The line carried up he made fast above, and up it we all 
four ‘shinned? in succession. It was, joking apart, 
awful work. In several places the ridge ran to an edge 
not a foot broad ; ‘and I could, as I held on, half- sitting, 
half-kneeling across the ridge, have kicked my 1 right 
shoe down to the plain on one side, and my left into 
the bottom of the rayine on the other. The only thing 
which surprised me was my | own steadiness and free- 
dom fiom all giddiness. I had been nervous in 
mounting the ravine in the morning; but eradually [ 


got so excited and determined to succeed, that I could 


look down that dizzy height without the smallest sensa- 
tion of swimming in the head ; nevertheless, I held on 
uncommonly hard, and felt very well satisfied when I 
And a more extraordinary 


situation I never was in. Fhe head, which is an enor- 


‘mous mass of rock, ‘about thirty-five feet in height, over- 


hangs its base many feet on eyery side. A ledge of 
tolerably level rock runs round three sides of the ‘base, 
about six feet in width, bounded every where by thie 
abrupt edge of the precipice, except in the spot where~it 
is joined by the ridge up which we climbed. In one 
spot the head, though overhanging ts base several feet, 





Q1O° 
, ted 3.] 


reaches only perpendicularly over the edge of the pre- 
cipice ; and, most fortunately, it was at the very spot 
where we mounted. Here it was that we reckoned on 
getting up; a communication being established with the 
shoulder by a double line of ropes, we proceeded to 
get up the necessary materiel,—Lloyd’s portable ladder, 
additional coils of rope, crowbars, &c. But now the 
question, and a puzzler tuo, was how to get the ladder 
up against the rock. Lloyd had prepared some iron 
arrows, With thongs, to fire over; and, having got up a 
gun, he made a line fast round his body, which we all 
held on, and going over the edge of the precipice on the 
opposite side, he leaned back against the line, and fired 
over the least projecting part: had the line broke he would 
have fallen eighteen hundred feet. ‘Twice this failed, and 
then he had recourse to a large stone with a lead-line, 
which swung diagonally, and seemed to be a feasible 
plan: several times he made beautiful heaves, but the 
provoking line would riot catch, and away went the 
stone far down below; till at length A¥olus, pleased, 
I suppose, with his perseverance, gave tis a shiit of wind 
for abont a minute, and over went the stone, aiid was 
eagerly seized on the opposite side—Hurrah, my lads, 
‘steady’s’ the word! ‘Three lengths of the ladder were 
put together on the ledge; a large line was attached to 
the one which was over the head, and carefully drawn up; 
aad, finally, a two-inch rope, to the extremity of which 
we lashed the top of our ladder, then lowered it gently 
over the precipice till it hung perpendicularly, and was 
steadied by two negroes on the ridge below.—‘ All right, 
now hoist away! and up went the ladder, till the foot 
came to the edge of our ledge, where it was lashed in 
firmly to the neck. We then hauled away on the guy 
to steady it, and made it fast; a line was passed over by 
the lead-line to hold on, and up went Lloyd, screeching 
and hallooing, and we all three scrambled after him. 
The union-jack and a boat-hook were passed up, and 
old Eneland’s flare waved freely and gallantly on the 
redoubted Peter Botte. No sooner was it seen flying, 
than the Undaunted frigate saluted in the harbour, and 
the guns of our saluting battery replied ; for though our 
expedition had been kept secret till we started, it was 
made known the morning of our ascent, and all hands 
were on the look-out, as we afterwards learnt. We then 
rot a bottle of wine to the top of the rock, christened it 
‘King William’s Peak,’ and drunk his Majesty’s health 
hands round the Jack, and then ‘ Hip, hip, hip, hurrah!’ 

‘« T certainly never felt any thing like the excitement of 
that moment; even the negroes down on the shoulder 
took up our hurrah, and we could hear far below the 
faint shouts of the astonished inhabitants of the plain. 
We were determined to do nothing by halves, and ac- 
cordingly made preparations for sleeping under the 
neck, by hauling up blankets, pea-1ackets, brandy, 
cigars, &c. Meanwhile, our dinner was preparing on 
the shoulder below; and about 4 p.m. we descended 
our ticklish path, to partake of the portable soup, pre- 
served salmon, &c. Our party was now increased by 
Dawkins and his cousin, a lieutenant of the Talbot, to 
whom we had written, informing them of our hopes of 
success; but their heads would not allow them to mount 
to the head or neck. After dinner, as it was getting 
dark, I screwed up my nerves, and climbed up to our 
queer little nest at the top, followed by Tom Keppel and 
a necro, who carried some dry wood and made a fire ina 
cleft under the rock. Lloyd and Phillpotts soon came up, 
and we began to arrange ourselves for the night, each 
taking a glass of brandy to begin with. I had on two 
pair of trousers, a shooting waistcoat, jacket, and a huge 
flushing jacket over that, a thick woollen sailor's cap, 
and two blankets; and each of us lighted a cigar as we 
seated ourselves to wait for the appointed hour for our 
signal of success. It was a glorious sight to look down 
from that giddy pinnacle over the whole island, lying so 
calm and beautiful in the moonlight, except where the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


227 


broad black shadows of the other mountains intercepted 
the hight. Here and there we could see a light twinkling 
in the plains, or the fire of some sugar manufactory ; but 
not a sound of any sort reached us except an occasional 
shout from the party down on the shoulder (we four 
being the only ones above). At length, in the direction 
of Port Louis, a bright flash was seen, and after a lone 
interval the sullen boom of the evening-gun. We then 
prepared our pre-arranged signal, and whiz went a 
rocket from our nest, lighting up for an instant the peaks 
of the hills below us, and then leaving us in darkness, 
We next burnt a blue-light, and nothing can be coun- 
ceived more perfectly beautiful than the broad glare 
against the overhatiging rock. The wild-looking group 
we made in our whcouth habiliments, and the narrow 
ledge on which we stood, were all distinctly shown ; 
while many of the tropical birds, frightened at our vaga- 
ries, came glancing by in the light, and tllen swooped 
away, screeching, into the gloom below; for the gorge 
on our left was dark as Erebus. We burnt another 
blue-light, and threw up two more rockets, when, our 
laboratory being éxhausted, the patient-looking, insulted 
moon had it all her own way again. We now rolled 
Ourselves up in Our blankets, and, having lashed Phill- 
potts, who is a determined sleep-walker, to Keppel’s leg, 
we tried to sleep; but it blew strong before the morning, 
and was very cold. We drank all our brandy, and 
kept tucking in the blankets the whole night without 
success. At day-break we rose, stiff, cold, and hungry ; 
and I shall conclude briefly by saying, that after about 
four or five hours’ hard work, we got a hole mined in 
the rock, and sunk the foot of our twelve-foot ladder 
deep in this, lashing a water-barrel, as a landmark, at 
the top; and, above all, a long staff, with the union- 
jack flying. We then, in turn, mounted to the top of 
the ladder to take a last look at a view such as we might 
nevér see again; atid, bidding adieu to the scene of our 
toil and triumph, descended the ladder to the neck, and 
casting off the guys and hauling-lines, cut off all com- 
munication with the top.” 

We have only to add to this animated description that, 
more fortunate than Peter Botte, Lieutenant ‘Taylor 
and his friends effected their descent in perfect safety. 
The warm congratulations of their countrymen greeted! 
them on their return from what our readers will probably 
agree with us in regarding as one of the most brillant 
euterprises of this sort which have ever been recorded. 


Eminence attained by Men of low Origin.—Many of the 
most eminent men in literature, science, and art have sprung 
up in obscurity. Some willinstantly occur to the mind from 
among the living as well as the dead who have laid society 
under the deepest obligations; but there are others whose 
claims are not so commonly remembered. It is calculated, 
for instance, that above a million and a half chaldron of coals 
are annually consumed in London ; and the amazing exten- 
sion of the coal trade to meet such demands is to be traced 
to men called “ viewers,” who have generally raised them- 
selves from lower situations. Machinery was absolutely 
necessary to obtain so many millions of tons of one of the 
first necessaries of life, and that at a rate exceedingly low, 
and this was provided by Newcomen the plumber, and 
Smeaton and Watt the watchmakers. The cheap and 
elegant garments, which give bread to about two millions of 
people, instead of fifty thousand, which raised the importa- 
tion of cotton wool from less than 2,000,000 to 200,000,000 
pounds per annum, and which increased the annual produce 
of the manufacture from £200,000 to £36,000,000, are to be 
traced through subsequent improvements, to Arkwright and 
Crompton the barbers. A rude and inconsiderable manu- 
facture was changed into an elegant art, and an important 
branch of national commerce, by Wedgewood the potter. 

Inland navigation, which enabled manufacturers to import 
the raw materials and export the finished goods, was devised 
and executed by Brindley the mill-wright ; and it would be 
easy to accumulate a great number of instances in which 
persons of humble grade have greatly promoted the general 
good, —Vilderspin's Early Discipline, p. tc : 


228 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


MAGNA CHARTA. 


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{Magna Charta Island. } 


Tur term Magna Charta is still a sound as familiar to 
the ears of all classes of Englishmen, as it has been 
to those of their forefathers for six hundred years. A 
ood many persons, however, are probably more fami- 
liar with the sound than with the sense of the expression, 
and may be glad to have a short account of what Magna 
Charta is. 

John (the sixth son of Henry IL, and the great-great- 
erandson of the Conqueror), who obtained the throne in 
1199, on the death of his brother Richard I. (Coeur de 
Lion), was one of the most unprincipled and profligate 
characters iu the line of our kings. If he did not owe 
his crown to an act of usurpation (for it would be unfair, 
considering the then unsettied state of the law of succes- 
sion, to say that the claim of Arthur of Brittany, the 
son of his elder brother Geoffrey, was clearly better than 
his), there is at least every reason to believe that he did 
not scruple to secure it by the murder of his young 
nephew. ‘The rest of his reign was worthy of its bad 
beginning. During the short intervals of prosperity 
which he enjoyed, he showed himself a licentious and 
heartless despot; but for the most part he only escaped 
from one disaster to be overtaken by another, till poison, 
or, as other accounts say, a broken heart, brought him 
to an untimely grave. He was stripped of the posses- 
sions of his ancestors on the Continent by the King of 
France ; he was afterwards obliged to resign even his 
realm of England to the Pope; and, finally, he was 
beaten in a contest with his own subjects, and forced to 
accept of such terms as they chose to dictate. On all 
these occasions of adverse fortune, he demeaned himself 
with an abjectness equal to the arrogance which he dis- 
played at other times; and no shift was ever either too 
mean and perfidious on the one hand, or too impudent 
on the other, for him to avail himself of, as soon as an 
opportunity offered, to escape from his engagements. 
With all this want of principle, however, John was not 
without qualities fitted to give him an ascendancy over 
the popular mind. He was far from being deficient in 
the martial spirit and personal courage of his race; ill- 
directed as they were, his intellectual powers seem to 
have been acute and vigorous; and he could put on, 
when he chose, an affability of manner which took the 
multitude, Probably the truest picture we have of him 


is that which nas been drawn by Shakspeare. Our 
great dramatist, who knew so well how to put life into 
the dead forms of history, has represented him as selfish, 
unscrupulous, and cruel, but at the same timeas displaying 
eminent ability, and a bravery worthy of a better cause. 

It was in the year 1214, soon after John had become 
reconciled to the Pope, and had delivered himself from 
excommunication, by consenting to hold his kingdom as 
a vassal to the see of St. Peter, that his renewed excesses 
ef tyranny and oppression at length aroused against him 
the general indignation of his subjects, and determined 
them to take measures for the recovery of their liberties, 
There never was a more complete subjugation of any 
people than that of the Saxons of England by their 
Norman invaders. Not only was the vanquished country 
deprived of its political independence ; the inhabitants, 
individually, were stripped of their property, and re- 
duced almost to a state of slavery. In twenty years 
after William’s accession probably nine-tenths of the 
land in England had been transferred to the’ possession 
of Normans. It was a hundred years after that event 
before any person of that nation was preferred to any 
public office or employment. During the whole of this 
period the native English were treated by their foreign 
masters almost as an inferior race. 

The Saxons, however, still formed the great body 
of the population. ‘The Conqueror’s military followers, 
althouch numerous enough to secure him the crown, 
and also in a short time to appropriate all the landed 
estates in England, were quite insufficieut to supply the 
country with a new population. ‘The consequence was 
that England remained England notwithstanding this 
subjugation. The Saxon blood and the Saxon tongue, 
although all was done for a long series of years that a 
tyrannical policy could do to tread both into the earth, 
were too strongly rooted to be thus destroyed, and both 
eventually rose and reclaimed their old inheritance. We 
are, in by far the greater part, Saxons in language and 
lineage to this day. 

The intermixture of the two races, or rather the ab- 
sorption of the foreigners into the mass of the native 
population, must have commenced i11 the course of the 
first half century after the conquest; and, by the time 
of John, the process must have been carried to a consi- 


1833.] 


derable length. ‘This was the way in which the English 
re-conquered their conquerors. It is indeed surprising 
to find how early the national sentiment, which was 
thus generated, assumed entirely an Englishtone. It 
was for the rights and privileges of Englishmen that 
every strugale was waged which the subject carried on 
with the sovereion. ‘The Normans themselves never 
demanded the restitution of any thine Norman.. The 
universal cry already was for the old laws and institu- 
tions of Saxon England—for the liberties which the 
country had enjoyed in the time of Edward the Con- 
fessor. And to the perseverance with which this cry 
was urged, and the success with which it was at leneth 
crowned, it is owing that at this day our laws, as well 
as our blood and our language, are mainly Saxon. 

. The heart of the nation, then, being thus set upon 
the recovery of its ancient freedom, a large body of the 
nobility, having made various previous arrangements, 
assembled towards the close of the year 1214, and 
probably, as Judge Blackstone thinks, on the 20th of 
November, being St. Edmund’s day, in the abbey-church 
of Bury St. Iedmonds, in Suffolk, on pretence of devo- 
tion, but in reality to enter into a solemn league against 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


229 


against the King, until he should agree to their demands. 
On Epiphany-day (the 6th of January), 1215 they 
came in a body to London, and immediately sent a 
deputation to his majesty, who was then lodged in the 
Temple. Although alarmed at what he perceived to be 
the strength of the confederacy, John did not at once 
yield, but requested time to consider their proposals, A 
respite was granted him till the close of Easter. Mean- 
while both parties prepared themselves for the coming 
contest. But although the King obtained a prohibition 
against the proceedings of the barons from the Pope, he 
soon found that this spiritual aid was nearly all upon 
which he could count. The thunders of the Vatican 
were never much regarded, either in England or any 
other country, when directed against a really popular 
cause; and, in this instance, the admonition and me- 
naces of his Holiness were entirely unheeded. Imme- 
diately after Eastcr, which fell that year on the 19th of 
April, the barons had assembled at Stamford in Lincoln- 
shire with a numcrous army; the Popc’s letters arrived 
the following week ; but on Monday, the 27th, the 
insurgents marched to Brackley in. Northamptonshire, 
and there encamped, about fifteen miles from Oxford, 


the throne. ‘They swore on the high altar to wage war | where the King was. 


—. 


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[Copy of the Seal of King John to the agreement with the Barons.] 


Eula Wiveapacaub np fonckduchiffariar aurieligher duce vuleEAucal qm ddo blunt ~rnrec bap Thur 


necluy eum yutrent ni [i 1 p (oafe we tT parun hao {e ae a VGeienricd ent. negalun ; es Arent icodsamn durJ aflaig- 


[Fac-simile of the writing of Magna Charta.] 


A deputation soon arrived from John desiring to 
know the reason of their assembling ; to which they nade 
answer by a written exposition of their demands, accom- 
panied with an intimation that they would immediately 
proceed to seize the royal castles in the event ‘of their 
suit not being complied with. Nothine definitive, how- 
ever, resulted from these negotiations. 

The barons, then, looking to the speedy commence- 
ment of warlike operations, chose one of their number, 
Robert Fitzwalter, the general of their army, under the 
title of Marshal of the army of God and of Holy 
Church. On the 5th of May, at Wallingford (other 
authorities say at Reading), they solemnly threw off their 
alleviance to the King. They then attacked the castle of 
Northampton, from which they were repulsed; but they 
took that of Bedford; and, marching thence to London, 
were admitted by the citizens, on Sunday the 24th (or as 
others say the 17th) of May. 


By this time the King seems to have become con- 
vinecd that further resistance would be vain. All had 
deserted him except seven lords, accompanied by whom 
he had retired to Odiham in Hampshire. In these cir- 
cumstances he sent a message to the confederated barons, 
promising comphance with their wishes, and soliciting a 
conference. 

Tuesday, in Whitsuntide, being the 9th of June, was 
accordingly appointed as the day on which the two 
parties should meet to settle their differences, in the 
plain of Runnemede, which happened to lie about half 
way between Odiham and London. On the Sth the 
Kine’ came to Merton in Surrey, and there granted 
letters of safe-conduct to the barons. But it was afier- 
wards agreed to defer the meeting till the Monday fol- 
lowing, and in the mean time the King went to Windsor. 
On that day, being Trinity Monday, the 15th of June, 
the sovereign and his revolted subjects took their places 


230 


opposite to, and at Some distance from, each other on the 
appointed ground. ‘The barons came in great numbers ; 
but John was accompanied only by a few followers. | 

Runnemede, or Rununeymead, which these proceed- 
ines have made for ever famous, isa large plain on the 
southern bank of the Thames, in the parish of Egham 
in Surrey. It lies between the river and the town of 
Eeham. During the last week of August it is used as 
a race-ground; and the races seem to be of considerable 
autiquity. Hence the name has been supposed hy some 
to niean Running Mead; but it is much more probable 
that it means the Mead of Council, from the Saxon 
Rune, it having, as our old historians state, been fre- 
quently before this the scene of conferences and debates 
on public affairs. 

The proceedings on the present occasion appear to 
have been commenced by the barons submitting their 
demands to the King, drawn up in the form of prelimi- 
nary articles of agreement, to which his majesty affixed 
his seal. This interesting document is now in the 
British Museum. ‘The seal attached to it is in a much 
more perfect state of preservation than those belonging 
to any of the still existing copies of the charter itself; 
aud from it, accordingly, the representations in the pre- 
ceding page have been taken. 

These articles’ seem to have been then embodied in 
the form of a charter, being that which is commonly en- 
titled the Magna Charta Communium Libertatum, or 
Great Charter of the Common Liberties. Both docu- 
ments are dated the 15th of June; but it is stated by 
various authorities, that the charter was not actually 
sioned till the 19th. ‘There is also a tradition that that 
ceremony did not take place on the plain of Runne- 
mede, but on a neighbouring isle in the Thames, still 
known from the circumstance by the name of Magna 
Charta, or Charter, Island. A view of this island 1s 
oiven at the head of the present article. 

Copies of the charter were sent after its sienature to 
each county, or at least to each diocese, in England ; 
but of these, we believe, only three are now known to 
exist. Two are in the Museum, having formed part of 
the collection of Sir Robert Cotton, by whom one of 
them is said to have been recovered from the hands of a 
tailor, when he was in the act of proceeding to cut down 
the parchment for measures. ‘They are slightly injured 
by a fire which consumed a part of the Cottonian 
Library, before it was removed to its present depository ; 
the waxen seal which is attached to one of them having 
been partly melted by that accident. The other has 
only the slits by which the seal had: been formerly 
fastened to it. ‘There is a third copy in the Library of 
the Cathedral of Salisbury. 

Lhe Great Charter, having been extorted chiefly by 
the power of the clergy and the nobility, contained, as 
was to be expected, various provisions highly favourable 
to the interests of both these classes. But these we 
shall not at present stop to consider: The more im- 
portant and more interesting parts are those that refer 
to the body of the people. It is however to be recol- 
lected, that at this time probably the great majority of 
the inhabitants of England were still in what was called 
a state of villainage, that is to say, were the bondsmen 
and property of the landed proprietors upon whose 
estates they lived. The first great cause which operated 
in bringing about the extinction of villainage was the 
rise of towns. It was a privilege early granted to 
burghs in England, that any slave taking refuge in one 
of them, and residing there for a year and a day, became 
thereupon free. ‘These free towns or burghs accord- 
ingly were, at the time. when Magna Charta was 
granted, the only places in the kingdom where any con- 
siderable number of the commonalty was to be found 
not in a state of bondage. ‘Io the clauses of the 
charter, therefore, which refer to the towns, we are 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


.suorum vel per legem terre. 


[Jung 15, 


principally to look for the degree in which it established or 
extended popular freedom. None of the parties concerned 
in the transaction, certainly, entertained any idea of a 
general emancipation of the villains. ‘Those composing 
this part of the population were universally considered as 
mere ¢oods or chattels, and as such not comprehended in 
the community at all. By one of the articles indeed of this 
very charter of the common liberties, the labourers by 
whom the land was cultivated are classed along with the 
cattle and instruments of husbandry; the guardian of an 
heir who is a minor, it is declared, shall manage his estate 
without destruction and waste either of tlhe meu or goods, 
It is undeniable, therefore, that Magna Charta neither 
abolished slavery in England, nor contained any pro- 
vision tending im that direction; and it may therefore 
in one sense be asserted to have left the great body of 
the people in the same condition in which it found them. 
But in regard to the free population this is not a correct 
statement. One of the clauses assures to all cities, 
burghs, towns, and ports the enjoyment of their liberties 
and free customs bdéth by land and water, for which 
till now they had been all regularly in the practice of 
paying a yearly tax or bribe to the crown. A consi- 
derable part of the royal revenue was derived from 
this source. Other articles promulgated various enact- 
ments decidedly favourable to the interests of commerce. 

But the article of Magna Charla which is to be con- 
sidered as most valuable in reference to the general 
liberties, for the sake both of the actual securities which 
it established, and the principles of which it involved 
the acknowledgement and proclamation, is that of the 
original of which we have given a fac-simile in the pre- 
ceding page: ‘‘ Nullus liber homo capiatur, vel impri- 
sonetur, aut dissaisietur, aut utlugetur, aut exuletur, aut 
aliquo modo destruatur; nec super eum ibimus, nec 
super eum mittemus, nisi per legale judicium partum 
Nulli vendemus, nulli ne- 
eabimus, aut differemus rectum aut judicium.” That is 
to say,.in English, ‘* No freeman shall be apprehended, 
or imprisoned, or disseised (deprived of any thing he 
possesses), or outlawed, or banished, or any way de- 
stroyed, nor will we go upon him, nor will we send upon 
him (pronounce sentence against him, or allow any of 
the judges to do so), except by the legal judgment of his 
peers, or by the law of the land. ‘To none will we sell, 
to none will we deny, to none will we delay right or 
justice.” ‘This solemn recognition of the liberty of the 
subject at once laid, broad and deep, the foundations of 
a free constitution. Sir Edward Coke, we may remark, 
considered this clause to refer to all orders of the popula- 
tion equally, including even the villains, who, he argued, 
although bondsmen in relation to their masters, were free 
in so far as all others are concerned; but the principle 
involved in the concession was of more importance, even- 
tually at least, than the extent to which it became imme- 
diately operative. The principle was, that the subject had 
his rights as well as the sovereign, and that those of the 
one were as sacred as those of the other. ‘There could 
be no absolute despotism so long as this principle was 
maintained. Vices in the government and in the con- 
stitution there might be still; but, at least, the unlimited 
power of the monarch was struck down and destroyed 
for ever. Magna Charta was therefore a great revo- 
lution upon the form of government established at the 
Conquest, and which had been maintained ever since 
that event. Up to the time of this charter every 
one of the wrongs which the article we have quoted 
condemns and declares shall no longer be tolerated, 
had been in constant use by the crown as engines 
of extortion and oppression. ‘The actual relief, there- 
fore, which the charter conferred was far from inconsi- 
derable. But it was, in addition to this, the first blow 
given to the uncontrolled power of the crown, established 


by the Norman Conquest,—the first advantage which 


1833.] 


the country gained and made good against the iron rule 
to which it was then subjected. And even what it left 
imperfect it gave the means of perfecting. It is upon 
this rock that our free constitution, as gradually evolved 
and completed in subsequent times, may be looked upon 
as having been reared. 


PASCAL. 
Tue 19th of June is the birth-day of Blaise Pascal, 


who was born at Clermont, the capital of Auvergne in 
France, in the year 1623. ‘This extraordinary genius 
affords one of the most remarkable examples on record 
of intellectual precocity, and of great progress in know- 
ledge achieved even without the aid of a master. His 
father, who had been president of the provincial Court 
of Aids, had retired from that office and come with his 
family to Paris, principally that he might devote himself 
to the education of his son. From his earliest years the 
boy had manifested both a singular solidity and quick- 
hess of parts—not only inquiring, as most lively children 
will do, the reason of every thing, but showing a perfect 
capacity of distinguishing between a true explanation 
and one which consisted, as too many explanations 
given to children do, in merely substituting one set 
of words for another. Such verbal tricks or subterfuges 
never succeeded with Pascal. So surprising was the 
evidence which he gave in this way, of a searching, 
considering, and combining head, that, his father was 
actually alarmed at it, and resolved to keep all know- 
ledge of the mathematics from him, lest that science of 
pure reason should engross his affections to the exclusion 
of all other learning. The natural bent of his genius, 
however, was too strong to be thuscontrolled. He had 
already begun to investigate for himself the phenomena 
of physical nature. One day when he was only in his 
eleventh year his attention was struck while sitting at 
dinner by the sound emitted from a plate which some one 
had struck by accident with a knife, and especially by its 
instant cessation when the plate was touched with the 
hand. He immediately began to reflect and experi- 
ment upon the subject; and he had soon noted down 
so many facts and observations as formed a little trea- 
tise, the soundness as well as the ingenuity of which 
was considered by good judges to do him great credit. 
He now began to importune his father to teach him 
mathematics; but all the information the latter would pive 
him was merely an explanation, at his earnest request, 
of the general nature and objects of the science. Such 
a nint was enough for the inventive genius of this won- 
derful boy. ‘‘ He forthwith,” says one of the writers of 
his life (the author of the Preface to his Treatise on the 
Equilibrium of Fluids), “ began meditating on the sub- 
ject during his hours of recreation; and being alone in 
the apartment in which he was accustomed to play, he 
took a bit of charcoal and drew figures upon the floor, 
endeavouring, for example, to discover the way of 
making a circle perfectly round, a triangle of which all 
the sides and angles should be equal, and to perform 
other such problems. All this he found out very easily ; 
and then he set himself to ascertain the proportions of 
different figures to each other. In pursuing these in- 
quiries he called a circle a round, a line a bar, and 
named the other figures in the same manner. From 
this he proceeded to axioms, and finally to demon- 
strations; and, thus left entirely to himself, he actually 
made his way to the proposition (the 32d of the Ist 
book of Euclid), of which it is the object to show that 
the three angles of any triangle are equal to two right 
ones. When he had arrived at this stage of his progress, 
his father by chance entered the room where he was, and 
found him so absorbed in his diagrams that it was a con- 
siderable time before he perceived that any one was 
present. His father’s surprise may be conceived when, in 
answer to the first question he asked him, the boy told 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


231 


him that he was endeavouring to prove the proposition 
we have mentioned. The further explanations which 
he received only increased his astonishment, as his son 
traced to him step by step the manner in which he 
had advanced to the point where he now was. He 
quitted the room without being able to utter a word, 
and proceeding immediately to the house of his 
intimate friend M. le Pailleux, who was a very: able 
mathematician, he related with much emotion what he 
had just learned and witnessed. M. le Pailleux wag 
not less surprised than he himself had been, and im- 
plored his friend no longer to endeavour to repress so 
strong a disposition to the cultivation of science, but at 
Once to permit his son to have access to the requisite 
books. Overcome by this reasoning, M. Pascal imme- 
diately put Euclid’s Elements into the hands of the boy, 
who was as yet only twelve years of age. Never did 
any young person read a romance with more avidity 
and more ease than Pascal read his Euclid, now that he 
had got hold of it.” The result, the writer foes on to 
inform us, was, that he now appeared regularly at the 
weekly meetings held by the most eminent scientific 
men then in Paris; nor were the new observations 
which he contributed either less numerous or of less 
value than those of any of his associates. Still it was 
only his hours of recreation which his father allowed 
him to devote to geometry. 'The principal part of his 
time continued to be occupied in the study of the lan- 
guages. His progress in science, however, was so 
great, that at sixteen he wrote a book on conic sections, 
with the depth and general excellence of which Descartes 
was so much struck that he would scarcely believe that 
it had not been written by the father instead of the son, 
At nineteen he invented his famous machine for per- 
forming arithmetical caculations, a contrivance of won- 
derful ingenuity. Some years after he followed up and 
completed the grand discoveries of Galileo and Torricelli 
on the weight of the air, by proving experimentally that 
the mercury in the barometer fell on the instrument 
being carried to an elevated situation, the balancing 
atmospheric column being thereby diminished. But 
Pascal’s bodily constitution had from his birth been one 
of great delicacy, and the ardour with which he had 
pursued his studies at length began to tell upon his 
health with alarming effect. Neither the advice of his 
physicians nor the entreaties of his friends were able 
to draw him from his books; and his exquisitely sus- 
ceptible mind soon exhibited symptoms of being not 
unaffected by the shattered condition of its tenement. 
His piety, which had always been deep and earnest, 
now assumed a character of gloom and melancholy, 
which was permanently impressed upon it by an 
accident that befel him as he was one day riding in 
his carriage along the Pont de Neuilly. ‘The horses 
becoming unruly at a part of the bridge where the 
parapet was wanting, plunged into the Seine, and he 
only escaped being dragged along with them to instant 
destruction by the traces breaking. From this moment 
he renounced the world, and gave himself up to pre- 
paration for that death by which he had been so nearly 
overtaken. Still, however, the light of his noble genius, 
although eclipsed, was not extinguished. It was after 
these new fancies had attacked him that he solved the 
difficult problem of determining the curve described 
by any particular point in a revolving wheel, known 
among mathematicians by the name of the cycloid. 
[t was also long after this that he composed his cele- 
brated Provincial Letters (as they have been called) 
against the Jesuits, a splendid work, which has perhaps 


| contributed more to his fame among general readers 


than any thing else he has done, and which is universally 
acknowledged to have placed him in the very first 
rank of the classic writers of his country. The work 
called his ‘ Thoughts,’ likewise, was the product of 
this season of gloom and delusion—being made up 


232 


of detached remarks which he was in the habit of 
committing to bits of paper as they occurred to him. 
At length, after a long illness, brought on and fed by 
the most pitiable mortifications, in the course of which 
he was wasted to a shadow, the last thread of life gave 
way on the 19th of August, 1662, when the amiable 
and gifted enthusiast had little more than completed 
the thirty-ninth year of his age. 


Spring —The following description of spring almost grown 
into summer, is by Gawain Douglas, Bishop of Dunkeld, 
who lived in the latter end of the fifteenth and beginning of 
the sixteenth centuries, and modernized by Dr. Warton. 
‘Fresh Aurora issued from her saffron bed and ivory house. 
She was clothed in a robe of crimson and violet colour; the 
cape vermilion, and the border purple. She opened the 
windows of her handsome hall, overshadowed with roses and 
filled with balm or nard. At the same time the crystal gates 
of heaven were thrown open to illumine the world. It was 
glorious to see the winds appeased, the sea becalmed, the 
soft season, the serene firmament, the still air, and the 
beauty of the watery scene. The silver-scaled fishes, in the 
gravel gliding hastily, as it were, from the heat, or seen 
through clear streams, with fins shining brown as cinnabar, 
and chisel-tails darted here and there. The new lustre 
enlightening all the land, beamed on the small pebbles on 
the sides of rivers, and on the strands, which looked like 
beryl, while the reflection of the rays played on the banks in 
variegated gleams. ‘The bladed soil was embroidered with 
various hues. Both wood and forest were darkened with 
boughs, which reflected from the ground gave a shadowy 
lustre to the red rocks. ‘Towns, turrets, battlements, and 
high pinnacles of churches, castles and of every fair city, 
seemed to be painted; and, together with every bastion and 
story, expressed their own shapes on the plains. . The glebe, 
fearless of the northern blasts, spread her broad bosom. The 
corn-crops and the new-sprung barley reclothed the earth 
with a gladsome garment. 
valley clothed the cloven furrow, and the barley-lands were 
diversified with flowery weeds. The meadow was besprinkled 
with rivulets, and the fresh moisture of the dewy night 
restored the herbage which the cattle had cropped in the 
day. -The blossoms in the blowing garden trusted ‘their 
heads tothe protection of the young sun. Rank ivy leaves 
overspread the walls of the rampart. The blooming hawthorn 
clothed all the thorns in flowers. The budding clusters of 
the tender grapes hung end-long, by their tendrils, from the 
trellices. The germs of the trees unlocking, expanded 
themselves into the foliage of nature's tapestry. There was 
a soft verdure after balmy showers. The flowers smiled in 
various colours on the bending stalks; some red, others 
marked like the blue and’ wavy sea, speckled with red and 
white, or bright as gold. The daisy embraided: her little 
coronet. The grass stood embattled with banewort; the 
seeded down flew from..the dandelion. . Young weeds 
appeared among the leaves of the strawberries and- gay 
gilliflowers. The rose-buds, putting forth, offered their red 
vernal lips to be kissed; and diffused fragrance from the 
crisp scarlet that surrounded their golden seeds. Lilies, 
~with white’ curling tops, showed their crests open. The 
odorous vaper moistened the silver webs that hung from the 
leaves. The plain was powdered with round dewy pearls. 
From every bud, scion, herb, and flower bathed: in liquid 
fragrance, the bee sucked sweet honey. The swans cla- 
moured amid the rustling reeds, and searched all the lakes 
and grey rivers where to build their nests. The red bird of 
the sun lifted his coral crest, crowing clear among the plants 
and bushes, picking his food from every path, and attended by 
his wives Tappa and Partlet. The painted peacock with 
raudy plumes unfolded his tail like a bright wheel en- 
shrouded in his silver feathers, resembling the marks of the 
hundred eyes of Argus.. Among the boughs of the twisted 
olive, the small birds framed the. artful nest, or along the 
thick hedges, or rejoiced with their merry mates in the tall 
oaks. In the secret nook, orin the clear windows of glass, 
the spider full busily wove her sly net to ensnare the gnat or 
fly. Under the boughs that screen the valley, or within 
the pale-enclosed park, the nimble deer trooped in ranks, 
the harts wandered through the thick wood shaws, and 
the young fawns followed the dappled does; kids slipped 


through the briars after the roes, and in the pastures and | 


leas the lambs bleated to their dams. The ring-dove coos 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The variegated vesture of the } 


[June 15, 1833. 


in the tall copse; the starling whistles her varied descant; 
the sparrow chirps in the clefted:wall; the goldfinch and 
linnet fill the. skies; the cuckoo cries; the quail twitters ; 
while rivers, shaws, and every dale resound; and the tender 
branches tremble on the trees, at the song of the birds and 
the buzzing of the bees.” 





Human Life.—Pliny has compared a river to human life. 
I have never read the passage in his works, but I have been 
a hundred times.struck with the analogy, particularly amidst 
mountain scenery. The river, small] and clear in its origin, 
gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons 
and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, 
nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or 
spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be 
compared to the human mind, in which fancy and strength 
of imagination are predominant—it is more beautiful than 
useful. When the different rills or torrents join, and descend 
into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its movements; 
it is apphed to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to 
bear upon its bosom the stately barge; in this mature state 
itis deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on towards the 
sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, 
becomes lost and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters. 

One might pursue the metaphor still further and say, that 
in its origin, its thundering and foam, when it carries down 
clay from the bank and becomes impure, it resembles the 
youthful mind, affected by dangerous passions. And the 
influence of a lake in calming and clearing the turbid water 
may be compared to the effect of reason in more mature life, 
when the tranquil, deep, cooi, and unimpassioned mind is 
freed from its fever, its troubles, bubbles, noise, and foam. 
And, above all, the sources of a river,-which may be con- 
sidered as belonging to the atmosphere, and its termination 
in the ocean, may be regarded as imaging the divine origin 
of the human mind, and its being ultimately returned to and 
lost in the Infinite and Eternal Intelligence from which it 
originally sprung.—Davy. 


The Trout.—The varieties of the common trout are almost 


‘infinite; from the great lake trout, which weighs above sixty 


or seventy pounds, to the trouts of the little mountain brook, 


| or small mountain lake, or tarn, which is‘scarcely larger than 


the finger.- The smallest trout spawn nearly at the same 
time with the larger ones, and their ova are of the same size ; 
but in the large trout there are tens of thousands, and in the 
small one rarely as many as forty,—often from ten to forty. 
So that in the physical constitution of these animals, their 
production is diminished, as their food is small in quantity ; 
and it is remarkable that the ova of the large and beautiful 
species which exist in certain lakes, and which seem always 
to associate together, appear to produce offspring, which, in 
colour, form, and power of growth and reproduction, resemble 
the parent fishes, and they generally choose the same river for 
theirspawning. Thus in the lake of Guarda, the Benacus of 
the ancients, the magnificent trout, or Salmo farto, which in 
colour and'appearance is like a fresh run salmon, spawns in 
the river‘at Riva, beginning to run up for that purpose in 
June, and continuing to do so all the-summer; and this 
river is fed by streams from snow and glaciers ‘in. the Tyrol, 
and is generally foul: whilst the small spotted common 
trouts, which are likewise found in this lake, go into the small 
brooks, which have their sources not far off, and in which, it 
is probable, they were originally bred. I have seen taken in 
the same net, small fish of both these varieties, which were 
as marked as possible in their characters ; one silvery, like 
a young salmon, blue on the back, and with small black spots 
only ; the other, with yellow belly and red spots, and an 
olive-coloured back... I have made similar observations in 
other lakes, particularly in that of the Traun near Gmunden, 
and likewise at Loch Neah in Ireland. Indeed, considering — 
the sea trout as the type of the species trowt, I think all the 
other true trouts may not improperly be considered as 
varieties, where the differences -of food and of habits have 
occasioned, in a long course of ages, differences of shape and 
colours, transmitted to offspring in the same manner as in 
the variety of dogs, which may all be referred to one primi- 
tive type.—Davy. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lineoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 





Printed by Win.L1am Crowes, Stamford Street, 


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[J uNE 22, 1833, 
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[ North-west view of Salisbury Cathedral. | 


2H 


Vou. Il. 


284 
CATHEDRAL OF SALISBURY. 


Tus isin some respects the most imposing structure 
among our English cathedrals. It is, in the first place, 
seen to great advantage, beig, on three of its sides, 
unencumbered by the juxta-position or close vicinity of 
any other buildings, and on the remaining or south side 
having only attached to it its own cloisters and chapter- 
house. Then the lofty spire which rises from its centre 
is an erection unequalled by any thing else of the same 
kind in England ; and cannot, on the first view at least, 
be viewed shooting upwards and piercing the sky with- 
cut the deepest emotions of wonder and admiration. 
The externa! aspect of the building generally, indeed, is 
noble and striking. Its interior, also, without possess- 
ing either the richness or grandeur of some of our other 
cathedrals, is in a high degree beautiful and impressive. 
The longer bar of the cross forming the structure, 
consists, as in other cathedrals, of a nave, with side 
aisles, a choir, and a lady chapel, taking its parts in 
order from west to east. The screen between the lady 
chapel and the choir was taken away when the choir 
was restored by Wyatt, which has produced a very bad 
effect. At the end of the lady chapel is a large painted 
window. Besides the greater transept, the cathedral is 
crossed farther to the east. by another of smaller dimen- 
sions; and, on the opposite side, the north wall is also 
broken by a projection forming a porch, the architecture 
of which -is of a very bold and majestic character. The 
facade of the west front forms nearly a square, and is, 
as usual, elaborately adorned by niches, statues, tracery, 
buttresses, and other varieties of decoration. 
the statues have evidently been destroyed by violence; 
the drapery of some that partly remain possesses a high 
decree of excellence. Over the central door is a lareve 
window, divided into three compartments, the middle 
one rising considerably beyond the height of the other 
two. The length of this front is 112 feet; but the 
line is extended for 217 feet farther to the south by the 
west wall of the square forming the cloisters, which, as 
- already mentioned, is attached to the south wall of the 
cathedral. East from this square, and communicating 
with it by a passage, is the chapter-house, an octagonal 
building of 58 feet in diameter, by 52 in height, round 
the interior of which are the remains of a border of 
curious paintings representing scripture subjects. ‘The 
extreme length of the church externally is 474 feet, and 
that of the transept 230 feet. The height from the floor 
of the nave to the roof is 81 feet. But the glory of 
Salisbury Cathedral is its great central tower, with the 
sharp-pcinted spire by which it is crowned. ‘The entire 
height of this erection is 404 feet, being exactly twice 
that of the Monument in London. It is the highest 
building of stone in England, although the old spire 
of St. Paul’s, which was burnt down in 1561, is said to 
have risen to the altitude of 520 feet. 
wood. The height of the present St. Paul’s, reckoning 
from the floor of the church to the lantern, is only 
330 feet. The tower of Salisbury Cathedral up to the 
point at which the spire commences is adorned with pilas- 
ters, columns, pinnacles, and other decorations. The 
spire has heen a subsequent erection. It is stated by 
Mr. Franeis Price, in his work entitled ‘A Series of 
Observations on the Cathedral Church of Salisbury’ 
(1753), that, in order to enable the tower to sustain this 
additional weight, a hundred and twelve additional sup- 
ports, besides bandages of iron, had been introduced 
into it, several windows by which it was formerly per- 
forated having also been filled up, and the foundations 
considerably deepened and extended. The entire column 
in settling hasswerved somewhat to the south and west, 
the summit of the spire being 22 inches out of the per- 
pendicular, ancl the columns at the four angles of the 


tower in the cathedral are mueh warped; but it may 
be considered to be still, notwithstanding this, as secure | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Many of } 


But that was of* 


[June 22, | 


and nearly in as perfect a condition as when it was first 
erected. 

With the exception of the spire, this fine old cathedral 
is almost entirely the work of the 13th century. The 
episcopal see of Salisbury was originally fixed at Sher- 
bourne in Dorsetshire, from which it was only removed 
in the year 1072. Herman de J.otharingia, the then 
bishop, began the building of a cathedral at Old Sarum, 
and dying in 1077, left the work to be carried on by his . 
successor Osmund, by whom it was finished, and dedi- 
cated to the Virgin, in 1092. This church stood upon 
a rising ground, within the bounds of the castle which 
then existed at Sarum; and in no long time disputes 
respecting jurisdiction appear to have arisen between the 
civil and ecclesiastical authorities. It would seem to 
have been principally on this account that the desire 
began to be entertained by the bishop and his clergy of 
transferring the cathedral to some other place. A bull, 
accordingly, having been obtained from the Pope in 
1219 to sanction the design, a wooden chapel was in the 
first instance erected on the ground occupied by the 
present cathedral, being a low field lying about a mile 
to the south-east of the ancient church, at the confluence 
of the Avon and the Nadder, and then known by the 
name of the Merryfield. The bishop at this time was 
Herbert, or, as he is called by other authorities, Robert 
Poore. The foundation of the present cathedral was laid 
on the 28th of April, in the following year. Poore died in 
1229, but the building was carried on by his successors 
in the see, Robert Binghain, William de Yorke, and 
Giles de Bridport; by the last of whem it was brought 
to a close about the year 1260. ‘The upper part of the 
tower and the spire, however, were added afterwards, 
and probably, as Mr. Britton thinks, in the time of 
Bishop Robert de Wyvile, who oceupied the see from 
1329 to 1375. Soon after the cathedral had been begun, 
and when the bishop, the clergy, and their tenantry, 
had built houses, and established themselves around it, 
Henry IIl. granted them a charter, declaring New Salis- 
bury (or Saresbury) a free city, and giving them leave 
to enclose it with competent walls and ditches, that it 
might be secure from the incursions of robbers, and all 
other hostile attacks. The power thus raised in oppo- 
sition to that of the neighbouring fortress, seems to have 
rapidly acquired the superiority over its rival; for in the 
time of Bishop Wyvile, the castle and cathedral of Old 
Sarum were ordered by Edward III. to be entirely 
destroyed, and the stones to be employed in the aug- 
mentation and improvement of the new one. It was 
probably with some of these stones that the spire was 
built. Old Sarum, which was the capital of the west of 
England under.the Saxons, a station of the Romaas, 
and in all probability a British town before the arrival 
of these invaders, was from this time nearly deserted ; 
yet about a century ago it is said to have still contained 
ten or twelve inhabited honses. It is now wholly un- 
inhabited, and only a few bits of the wall remain. The 
trenches and earth-works-around it, however, are of 
prodigious size, and unchanged: it is a fine specimen of 
an old encainped station, the plan of which is as perfect 
as if the works were standing. The Reform Bill, by 
depriving Old Sarum of its privilege of returning two 
members to parliament, took from it the last remaining 
sign of its ancient importance. 








BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN. 
Tur 24th of June is the anniversary of the battle of 
Bannoekburn, and as such would well deserve to be set 
among the high tides in a calendar which should record 
the victories of freedom and the triumphs of right over 
might. The sudden death of the King of Scotland, 
Alexander III., by a fall from his horse in 1286, fol- 
lowed, as it was four years after, by that of-his graud- 
daughter, the Maiden of Norway, to whom the crown 


1833.) _ 


had descended, left that country exposed to all the 
evils of a disputed succession. The line of William I, 
called the Lion, was now extinct ; and the heir to the 
throne was to be sought for among the descendants of 


his younger brother David, Earl of Huntingdon. Of 


these there were two, Jolm Baliol, the grandson of the 
Earl’s eldest daugliter, and Robert Bruce, the son of 
the second, who both put forward their claims on dif- 
ferent grounds. At this time the Enelish throne was 
occupied by the politic and ambitious Edward I., who, 
from the moment when he heard of the death of Alex- 
ander, seems to have set his heart on the project of 
annexing the dominions of the deceased king to his own. 

He was not long without a plausible excuse for inter- 
fering in Scottish affairs. 
crown, according to a custom common in that age, 
agreed to refer their elaims to his arbitration. This was 
a golden opportunity for Edward. Invittng the states, 
or parliament of Scotland, to meet him at a place on 
the south side of the Tweed, he there-astonished and 
confounded them by announcing his claim to be consi- 
dered as the superior and liege lord of that kingdom. 
A numerous army close at hand rendered resistance 
for the present impossible. Edward then nominated 
Baliol to occupy the vacant throne as his vassal. 

But this was but a step towards the consummation at 
which he aimed. He soon created a new pretence for 
making a still more undisguised attempt to take the 
sovereionty of Scotland into his own hands. We cannot 
relate at length the events which followed. ‘The oppres- 
sions of the English government at length kindled a 
spirit of: resistance in the conquered nation, which broke 
out into fierce and unquenchable insurrection. In a 
few months, roused and directed by the illustrious Sir 
William Wallace, the Scots chased the foreigners from 
their soil, and regained their independence; but Edward, 
overrunning the country with another mighty army, 
soon reduced them once more under the yoke. In 1305 
the heroic Wallace, being betrayed into the hands of his 
enemies, was carried to London, and there put to death, 
but it was not long before a new leader appeared to take 
the place of the murdered patriot. ‘This was Robert 
Bruce, the grandson of him who had been competitor 
for the crown with Baliol. Flying from the court of 
England, where he had hitherto resided, Bruce no 
sooner made his appearance in Scotland than his friends 
in great numbers rallied around him, and he was 
crowned at Scone on the 27th of March, 1306. He 
might not, however, by this bold enterprise have suc- 
ceeded in delivering his country, but for an event which 
soon after took place. While Edward was in the midst 
of his preparations to avenge this new rebellion, and had 
advanced as far as Carlisle on his way to the North, he 
was suddenly taken ill, and died there on the 7th of July, 
1307. Before he expired he charged his son, under the 
pain of incurring his paternal malediction, to carry his 
body with him into Scotland, and not to bury it until he 
had effected a complete conquest of that country. 

Edward II., however, was a very different character 
from his father. It was several years before he thought 
of prosecuting the war which had thus been left upon 
his hands. His first expedition to Scotland was not 
undertaken till the end of the year 1310, and led to 
nothing. By the year 1314 Bruce had made himself 
entirely master of the country, with the exception of the 
eastles of Dunbar, Berwick, and Stirling, which were 
still in the possession of English garrisous. ‘The last 
of these fortresses was then accounted the most im- 
portant military stronghold in the kingdom. Having 
been besieged by Edward Bruce, the king’s brother, in 
‘the end of 1313, Philip de Moubray, the governor, had 
engaged to deliver it up if he should not be relieved by 
the 24th of June, the feast of St. John the Baptist, in 
the following year. If Edward therefore was not pre- 
pared to lose his last hold of Scotland, there was not 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The two competitors for the 


235 


now a moment to be lost. It was in this pressing emer- 
gency that he at length determined to make a great 
effort for the recovery of his father’s conquests. 

When the news of Edward’s preparations reached 
Bruce, he too set himself to ineet the crisis as one on the 
issue of which hung both his own fate and that of his 
country. With his utmost exertions, however, he could 
only assemble an army of about thirty-five thousand 
men. Edward meanwhile was approaching with one of 
three times that number. In this state of things, the 
Scottish king drew up his forces on a field, then called 
the New Park, having the town of Stirling on his left, 
and the brook (or burn) of Bannock on his right. 
Here he lay awaiting the enemy, when on the afternoon 
of Sunday the 23d of June, the immense mass of the 
English army was seen making its approach. 

The encounter commenced that evening. A party of 
eieht hundred English horse, commanded by Sir Robert 
Clifford, having attempted to throw themselves mio the 
castle, were attacked by Randolph Earl of Murray, the 
nephew of the Scottish king, and after a sharp and 
somewhat protracted struggle, driven back with consider- 
able loss. While this atlair was going on, also, Bruce 
performed an exploit in the sight of both armies, admi- 
rably calculated to tell in favour of himself and his cause 
in that age. We allude to his encounter with the 
English knight, Sir Henry de Bohun, or Boune, whio 
had attacked him, and whom with one stroke of his 
battle-axe he laid dead at his feet. 

After this the armies parted for the night. But it was 
only to mix again in desperate conflict after the few hours 
of darkness had passed. We are not going to relate the 
course of the morrow’s fight, which has been often re- 
counted. ‘This was one of the last great battles fought 
without the aid of gunpowder. Neither the bowmen 
nor the heavy horse of the English were abie to make 
any impression on the stout and active infantry of the 
Scots, armed with their battle-axes and spears. In the 
position so skilfully chosen by Bruce the multitude of 
Edward’s forces only proved an encumbrance. ‘Their 
confusion was increased by the cavalry falling ito a 
number of pits which Bruce had caused to be dug in a 
morass that lay on his left, and in which he had placed 
sharp iron stakes covered over with.sod. J'inally, the 
trepidation into which they had been thrown became 
irretrievable, and was changed into a general rout, on 
the appearance ata short distance of what appeared to 
be another army coming up to assist Bruce, but which 
was in fact merely an unarmed multitude whom he had 
instructed to present themselves in this manner, dis- 
playing banners with which he had provided them. 
Thirty thousand of the English are said to have been 
killed on the field and in the pursuit, among whom were 
two hundred knights and seven hundred esquires. 


| One of those who fell was the young Earl of Gloucester, 


the King’s nephew. Edward himseif with difficulty 
escaped, having rode hard before his pursuers for eighty 
miles till he gained the castle of Dunbar. ‘T'wenty-two 
barons and sixty knights fell alive into the hands of the 
Scots. The loss of the latter amounted to only a few | 
hundreds, and scarcely comprised any. person of dis- 
tinction. ‘The booty taken was immense; the monk of 
Malmesbury estimates it at two hundred thousand 
pounds. But the most important result of the battle ot 
Bannockburn was the great national deliverance which it 
was the means of achieving. Now that Scotsmen and 
Englishmen are united into one people, both may regard 
the victory, viewed in reference to this one of its con- 
sequences, as their own. It would hardly have been 
less disastrous for England than it would have been for 
Scotland, if the latter country, by the issue of that day, 
had been bowed beneath the yoke of slavery, instead o1 
having burst, as she did, her temporary chains, and re- 
covered, never to be again torn from her, her ancient 


3H 


| liberties and independence, 


236 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[JUNE 22, 


THE MOON.—No. 1. 


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[Telescopic appearance of the Moon. ] i... 


Tne first subject which will naturally strike our readers, 
is the wood-cut which precedes this article. It is a 
representation of the face of the full moon, as magnified 
in a telescope. ‘The first question is, what do we mean 
by the face of the moon, which, being a round figure, 
would present various faces, according to the point from 
which it is seen. Nevertheless, the following is a correct 
statement of the appearances which our satellite presents 
when viewed through a telescope. 

The face presented by the moon to us is very nearly 
the same at all times. Sometimes, however, a little 
more of the western side is visible, sometimes a little more 
of the eastern; sometimes also there is a little change 
on the northern edge of the moon, sometimes on the 
southern. ‘To these little changes, which resemble a 
slirht motion to and fro like that of a pendulum, the 
name of libration has been given. ‘ 

Let us suppose, Istly, that the moon moves round the 
earth uniformly ; 2ndly, in the plane of the ecliptic, that is, 
that the sun, earth, and moon may be always correctly 
drawn on the paper, it never being necessary to place 
either of them above or below, and that the paper repre- 
sents the plane of the earth’s orbit, called the Ecliptic ; 
Srdly, that the moon itself moves round an axis perpen- 
dicular to the plane of the ecliptic in the course of a 
month; that is, that though the moon moves round an 


axis, no point which is above the ecliptic ever comes 
below it, in consequence of this motion. All these sup- 
positions are near the truth: if they were exactly true, and 
if the time of rotation of the moon were the same as that 
of its revolution round the earth, the moor would always 
present the same face, and there would be no libration. 
The little variations from these suppositions which actu- 
ally exist, will serve to explain the latter phenomenon. 

In the diagram of the next page. E is the position of 
a spectator on the earth, the diurnal motion of which is 
neglected for the present. ‘The small circles represent the 
moon, or rather its equator, one hemisphere of the moon 
being above, and the other below, the paper. The course 
of the arrow represents the direction of the orbital motion 
round the earth. The axis of the moon is a perpendicular 
to the paper, drawn through the centre of the lunar 
equator. On the moon’s equator eight spots are marked 
out, by the figures 1, 2, 3, &c. The left-hand diagram 
represents the supposition that the moon does not move 
at all upon its axis, and that on the right-hand makes 
her always present exactly the same face towards the 
spectator. We shall now proceed to details. 

If the moon does not move at all upon her axis, and 
we take the position M, the face presented to the earth 
is 32187, 3 being the eastern, and 7 the western point. 
When we come to the next position, following the arrows, 


* 
y. 


1833.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. er 


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(Map of the Moon.] 
since the moon has not moved round at all, the spot 3 
is still at the top of the figure, but 26 is now the boun- 
dary of the face presented to the earth, and 7, which 
before was only just visible, has advanced considerably 
towards the east, while 8 is in front of the spectator, 
instead of 1. Following the moon round the orbit, we | 
bee that every spot comes successively in front of the 


spectator, who will, in the course of an orbital revolution, 
or stdereal month (a term to be hereafter explained), see 
all the parts of the moon’s equator in succession ; or at 
least would see them, if half the moon were always 
visible, or if it were always full moon. And hence, since 


the face 7s always the same, we conclude that the moon 
is not without motion on its axis. 


Fig. 1 





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238 


We now come to explain the actual appearance observed, 
viz. that the moon does always present the same face to the 
spectator. ‘This is represented in fig. 2, where the spot | is 
always in front of the spectator, and 37 is always the boun- 
dary of the part of the equator presented to view. Hence, 
when the moon has moved from M to P through an eighth 
part of a revolution, the line 37 has also made the eighth 
part of a revolution, and with it the whole moon, round an 
axis perpendicular to the paper. This revolution is in 
the same direction as that of the orbital revolution ; for 
while M moves to P, the point 5 moves to the place 
occupied. by 4 in the second position of fie. 1, where 
there is no revolution round the axis. The same thing 
is evident from the succeeding positions, whence we have 
the following proposition: that if the moon moves round 
the earth uniformly, the continual presentation of the 
same face to the earth proves that she revolves upon 
an axis in the same direction as that in which she moves 
round the earth and in the same time. 

The librations already described prove the errors of 
the preceding suppositions, and the smallness of the 
libration proves also the smallness of those errors. The 
moon does not move uniformly round the earth, but 
varies her orbital velocity, and also her distance from the 
earth, the velocity being greatest-where the distance is 
least, and vice versé. Let M be the point at which her 
distance from the earth is least, or her velocity greatest, 
and let her move uniformly round her axis in the month 
as before. She then moves round her axis too slow for 
the orbital velocity, that is, the lunar day would not 
be finished in the month ifthe present rate of orbital 
motion were kept up. ‘The phenomena arising from this 
will be in kind (though much smaller in quantity) the 
same as those exhibited in fig. 1, in which there is no 
lunar day at all. ‘That is, some of the western edge of 
the moon will be thrown into view which was not 
visible before, and this will continue until the slackening 
of the orbital motion has brought down the latter to the 
same as that of the moon on its axis. After this, and 
up to the point opposite to M, where the orbital rotation 
is least rapid, the motion round the axis is too quick for 
the orbital velocity, the western edge begins to disappear, 
and the eastern to be brought forward, and soon. This 
alternation is called the libration in longitude. Nextly, 
the axis of the moon is not exactly perpendicular to the 
plane of her orbit, being about one degree from the per- 
pendieular. This will produce an effect analogous to 
that observed in the earth from the sun, which is to us 
the cause of the change of seasons: during one-half the 
month, the north pole of the moon will be visible, and 
the south pole during the other. This change at the 
north and south disc is called the libration in latitude. 

Lastly, the spectator is not placed at KE, the centre of 
the earth, but rolls round it by the diurnal motion of the 
earth. This will, in the course of the day, discover a 
little of the eastern and western edges in succession, 
which is called the diurnal libration. We shall resume 
the orbital motion in a future paper, and now proceed to 
say something of the chart of the moon. 

The first map of our satellite was given by Hevelius, 
in the year 1645. It was the result of three or four 
years’ observations. He at first intended to designate 
the different spots by the names of distinguished astro- 
nomers; but fearing the envy of those whom he might 
think proper to omit, he preferred using the names of 
places on the earth. His map accordingly presents 
various ancient names of places on our globe, disposed 
according to a fanciful resemblance which he imagined he 
had found. A large round spot not far from the centre 
represents Sicily: a chain of smaller spots in the interior 
of this is Mount Etna, and the island fills up the whole 
centre of the Mediterranean sea, while the Adriatic Is a 

small bay, about half the size of Sicily, looking towards it, 
and the Peloponnesus, turning round a corner, divides 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


the Ionian Islands from Mount Athos. 


[Jung 22, 
This method of 


deseribing the situation of the spots was superseded by 
that of Grimaldi and Riccioli, who preferred the first 
idea which occurred to Hevelius, and from them it has 
descended to us. Riccioli, a strenuous opponent of the 
doctrine of Copernicus, amused himself by placing that 
astronomer and his followers in ‘situations indicative of 
the fate he predicted to their opinions. Copernicus and 
Galileo are placed in the part which he called the Sea 
of Storms, while Kepler is the capital of the Island of 
Winds. 

The plate at the head of this article is reduced from a 
beautiful engraving of the moon’s surface, drawn by 
Charles Blunt, Esq., and published-by Ackermann and 
Co. Our drawing has been made by Mr, Blunt him- 
self. It represents the full moon in a state of mean 
libration; that is, the greatest part which ever can be 
added to the eastern limb by the libration is just equal 
to the greatest part which, at other times, the western 
limb receives. ‘Fhe lunar equator passes a little above 
the spots marked 26 and 27; 26 being on the western, 
and 27 on the eastern side. 

The following are the names given to the spots, as 
numbered on the wood-cut. A number preceded by * 
denotes a remarkable annular mountain, or elevated 
ring ; by Tf it is indicated that there is a mountain in the 
centre of the ring; § denotes a remarkable cavity. The 
letters are attached to the names given by Riccioli to 
remarkable regions, and relate to ideas which were 
formed of the state of these regions from their general 
appearance, for which we need hardly say there is no 
foundation. 


+ 1 Pythagoras 
2 Endymion 
* 3 Plato 
4 Aristotle 
5 Hercules 
6 Atlas 
7 Heraclides Falsus 
8 Heraclides Verus 


§ 25 Ptolemy 

26 Langrenus 

27 Grimaldus 

A Sea of Fertility 

B Sea of Nectar 

C Sea of Tranquillity 
*§ D Sea of Serenity 

E Lake of Dreams 


§ 9 Possidonius F Lake of Death 
* 10 Archimedes G@ Sea of Cold 
11 Cleomedes H Sea of Vapours 
12 Aristarchus I Bay of Tides 
* 13 Eratosthenes K Sea of Moisture 
§ 14 Copernicus M Sea of Storms 
15 Kepler N Sea of Showers 
16 Hevelius O Bay of Rainbows 
17 Schickardus P Bay of Dews 
*p§ 18 Tycho Q Land of Hoar Frost 
19 Pitatus R Land of Drought 
20 Petavius S Lake of Fogs 
21 Fravastorius T Land of Hail 


22 Bullialdus 
xp 23 Gassendus 
+ 24 Arzachel 


The astronomical phenomena exhibited to the imha 
bitants of the moon, if such there be, are of a character 
very different from those of our satellite with regard to us. 
As nearly the same face is always presented to the earth, 
it follows, that nearly one half of the moon never sees 
the earth. Of course the inhabitants of that half are too 
wise to believe travellers who come from the other hemi- 
sphere, and tell them of a large variegated ball always 
suspended over the heads of some, always on the right 
or left hand of others: and if they have as little mental 
lieht on the dark side of the moon as we had in Europe 
two hundred and fifty years ago, there is a vigorous 
inquisition armed with power sufficient to catch all 
believers in the earth, and make them recant. On the 
light side of the moon, there are of course Penny Maga- 
zines, which describe the astronomical appearances seen 
by spectators on the earth, speculate upon its quick 
rotation, nearly thirty days to one of the moon, and 
wonder whether the inhabitants are themselves aware of, 
or incommoded by, the rapid rate at which they turn, 
and whether they swim in the vapours which surround 


V Apennine Mountains 
W Mont Blanc 


1833.] 


their planet, or live upon them. The earth, when full, 
appears to an inhabitant of the moon thirteen times as 
large as the moon appears to us; that is, its diameter is 
about 3,6 times as large as our apparent lunar diameter. 
It is always on the same part of the heaven, when seen 


from the same part of the moon. At and about the spot 


marked I, the earth will be directly overhead: near the 
edges it will appear upon the horizon. ‘The libration will 
cause a small oscillatory motion to and fro of the earth: 
not very perceptible at those parts which have the earth 
distant from their horizon, but which will, at some spots 
near the edge, make the earth alternately sink below 
and rise above the horizon. In consequence of the noon 
having no atmosphere, or but a very ihin one, all celes- 
tial objects must be seen with very great distinctness. 

M. Quetelet, in his Astronomie Eléementaire, Paris, 
1826, a very good work, which ought to be translated, 
has the following remarks on the appearance of the 
earth at the moon, which we would rather quote than 
vouch for, though they may possibly be well founded. 

* Our vast continents, our seas, even our forests are 
yisible to them: they perceive the enormous piles of ice 
collected at the poles, and the girdle of vegetation which 
extends on both sides of the equator; as well as the 
clouds which float over our heads, and sometimes hide 
us from them. The burning of a town or forest could 
not escape them, and if they had good optical instru- 
ments, they could even see the building of a new town, 
or the sailing of a fleet.” p. 

The lunar day, as we shall afterward see, is equivalent 
to our actual month of 292 days: though the rotation 
of the moon on her axis is performed in the sidereal 
month of 27 days 8 hours nearly. Hence the inhabitant 
of the moon sees tlie sun for 142 of our days together, 
which time is followed by a night of the same duration. 
Of course the existence of any animal like man is im- 
possible there, as well on this account as on that of the 
want of an atmosphere. 

The phases which the earth presents to the moon 
are similar in appearance to those which the moon pre- 
sents to the earth, but in a different order. Thus, when 
it is new moon at the earth, it is full earth at the moon : 
and the contrary. When the moon is in her first 
quarter, the earth is in its third quarter, and so on: 
while half-moon at the earth is accompanied by half- 
earth at the moon. 


ON EMIGRATION TO GREECE. 


[From a Correspondent. | 
“ Know’st thou the Jand where the citron blows, 
Where midst its dark foliage the gold orange glows ? 
Thither, thither, let us go.”,-—GorgruHe. 
At the present moment, while emigration is taking place 
to a considerable extent, not only among the poorer 
classes, but even among persons who are not destitute 
of capital, it may perhaps not be unimportant to direct 
attention to a new field of enterprise, which upon ex- 
amination may be found to present many advantages, 
without requiring from those who embark in it so great 
a sacrifice of home comforts and the other enjoyments of 
life as is necessary in the case of emigration to those coun- 
tries which are now usually resorted to. 

The country alluded to is by name familiar to all, and 
the attention of Europe has for some years past been 
directed to the interesting spectacle it has presented. 
Greece once more takes her rank among nations ad- 
vancing in civilization; and those who are acquainted 
with the still unsubdued spirit, and with the many -va- 
luable qualities discernible amid numerous faults in the 
character of the great mass of its inhabitants, have the 
most sanguine hopes of seeing them exhibit the rare 
example of a great people, after a fall from the highest 
distinction to almost perfect obscurity, casting off the 


shackles of tyranny, and re-entering upon the path to 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


239 


their former eminence. The educated classes may also 
be expected to assist in promoting an object, which would 
materially tend to the improvement and instruction of a 
people to whose ancestors the civilized world is so greatly 
indebted. 

A short sketch of the present condition of Greece, as 
far as it relates to the subject under consideration, wil] 
best tend to the promotion of the object in view. The 
writer being but just returned from a sojourn of some 
months in that country, is able to communicate infor- 
mation partly derived from his own observation, and 
partly from the statemeuts of his Greek acquaintance. 
As his attention has been particularly directed to the 
agriculture of the country, he will first endeavour to 
make the existing state of that branch of industry, and 
all that at present influences it, sufficiently clear. 

Notwithstanding ils mountainous character, Greece, 
shortly before the breaking out of the revolution, pro- 
duced more than sufficient corn for home consumption ; 
indeed several shiploads were annually exported to Trieste, 
Venice, Ancona, and other ports of Italy. The soil of 
its plains and valleys is for the most part so fruitful, and 
the clinate so favourable, that an abundant harvest can 
generally be depended upon. This flourishing state of 
things does not, however, any lounger continue. On the 
spot where formerly stood the cheerful village, gaily 
peeping forth from surrounding groups of olives, nothing 
now meets the eye but a blackened heap of ruins, or at 
most a few solitary huts constructed hastily with mud. 
Where the garden once exhibited its orange and lemon 
shrubs, and the loaded fig-tree,—where the vineyard 
exposed its clusters of grapes to the maturing sun,—where 
the corn, the maize, and the cotton plant grew and 
flourished, all is now bleak and barren—all one desolate 
waste overgrown with thorns and thistles. The labourers 
who once inhabited this peaceful spot have perished . 
or languish in slavery. Here is then a call for new 
labourers to restore the former prosperity. ‘The dimi- 
nished population 01 «ue country is by no means adequate 
to satisfy the demaud. According to a recent (and it 
is the highest) computation, there are not more than 
nine hundred thousand inhabitants in the new king- 
dom, whereas before the revolution there existed from 
two to three milhous; and even that is a small number 
eompared to the population in anciént times. Nor is it 
the labourer alone that is required—knowledge and skill 
are also wanted. Even before the war the Greeks pos- 
sessed but a very limited acquaintance with the art of 
culture; and if the produce of the land was so abun- . 
dant with their careless mode of tillage, what ‘may not 
be expected from the same soil, when we see applied to 
it the results of our more advanced agricultural know- 
ledge and experience, combined with the use of ma- 
chinery of which the Greek peasant knows not the 
existence. Their method of cultivation and the imple- 
ments they use may be described in a few words. ‘I'he 
plough is still as sunple as in the earliest days of Greece 
—a small light instrument without wheels, drawn by a 
yoke of oxen, and penetrating but three or four inches 
below the surface of the soil. After being once ploughed 
the field is considered sufficiently prepared, and is im- 
mediately sown by hand. The use of the harrow is not 
known, on which account a large portion of the scat- 
tered seed falls a prey.to birds, especially to a species of 
wood-pigeon which is common in the country. When 
ripe, the corn is cut with scythes, and the sheaves are 
carried immediately to a thrashiug-floor in the middle of 
the field, to be trodden upon by horses and asses, which 
are driven round among them till the grain is separated 
from the ears. The same practice prevails in Italy, 
as represented in the wood-cut in the following page. 
The straw supplies the place of hay, of which there is 
none, as fodder for the horses and cattle, and the grain is 
buried in holes in the ground, where it is well preserved, 


246 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE ~ 


[Junz 22, 1833. 


| WUD i r i) va i» ip 
ARAM ac 
PNR i , -g 
SHI tay die bh) 
tis y , 


{Horses treading out Corn.] 


One of the most favourable spots for a first experiment 
would, it is thought, be the island of Eubcea, particularly 
the northern division. This country, in an agricultural 
point of view, possesses in many respects a greater degree 
of similarity to England than most other parts of Greece. 
There is an extensive cultivation of corn and maize ;— 
indeed, -Eubcea, as is well known, was in ancient times 
considered the granary of Attica; and it is not so defi- 
cient as many other parts in water, without which, during 
the warm summer of: that climate, our’ farmer would 
find many of his improvements impracticable.-. Another 
chief reason of preference is the more settled state of the 
island; order has never been so entirely subverted there 


as in the Peloponnesus and other parts of the continent, 


where disputes, besides, are likely to be ‘frequent- before 
the rightful owner of the land can establish his claim. 
Eubcea suffered but little from the actual presence of 
war and from those commotions connected with a sudden 
change of masters; for after a short’ and ineffectual 
struggle to regain his liberty the peasant returned to 
his home and former occupations, and resigned once 


more to the Turkish yoke. ‘Thus the proprietors never. 


having lost possession of their estates, the Greek or 
stranger who by purchase has since become a -holder 
of ‘land is not liable to have his right disputed, and is 
consequently more ready to receive the new settler and 
afford him a secure asylum. This is an important consi- 
deration. At the same time let it not be supposed that, 
because there has latterly been less disturbance and 
change in this country, there is less opening for emigrants, 
or a less urgent call for good workmen. ‘The appearance 
of the island is scarcely more cheering than that of the 
other parts of the continent which have been described as 
the seat of war. The inhabitants have groaned under a 
Jong-continued system of oppression, beneath the weight 
of which their numbers have gradually diminished. The 
conduct of their Turkish masters was such as to discou- 
rage every advance andimprovement. An appearance of 
wealth and prosperity was sure to draw down a pro- 
portionate direct or indirect increase of taxation. If, for 
instance, the peasant employed the profits of his labour 
to erect a more commodious dwelling, or to purchase 
articles of comfort for himself or his family, the conse- 
quence was that his master on his next visit to the village 
with a numerous suite of attendants, or any Turk of rank 
travelling through the country, would single out this 
abode from the surrounding ones as his resting place. 
Here he would perhaps remain many days, or even 
weeks, and during this time it would be the duty of his 
humble vassal to furnish him, his attendants, and horses 
with every necessary of life without receiving the least 
remuneration, The writer observed that the entrance 


to the little huts in many villages is built so exceedingly 
low, that light and a free circulation of air are:in a great 
measure impeded by it. ‘This he has been, assured: by 
the people was purposely done in order: that the;Turks: 
who might chance to stop in the village might-not be 
able to bring their horses into the cottages. . Their dread 
of these visits is still extreme. While travelling -with a 
few friends through the country the writer, has often 
been amused by the panic occasioned in a. village by 
the approach of himself and his party.: Doors and. win- 
dows were closed and barred, and on: their. entrance 
they found the village apparently deserted... On one 
occasion, when the travellers directed their course:to the 
house of the priest, the poor man being at some. distance 
from his dwelling, and not having.time to fortify himself, 
fairly took to his heels, and concealed himself in the woods. 
Oppression, such as they have endured, has made .these 
people at once cunning and listless. To deceive and 
defraud a Yurk of his just share of harvest was not 
considered a crime, cunning-being the only weapon left 
the poor cultivator to use. His hopelessness of improv- 
ing his-condition, combined with his ignorance, induced 
an apatly which appeared or really became stupidity. 
Such were no doubt the original causes of a. character 
which has since been almost engrafted into his nature. 
Still there are germs of.Greek spirit beneath. “>A desire 
of information, a wish to distinguish himself, are quali- 
ties which, it is to be hoped,- will lead him to imitate a 
better example, when the effort is no longer. attended 
with injury to himself. It is in this respect especially 
that the introduction into the country of, well-disposed 
foreigners, although at first it may be regarded with 


jealousy, will eventually be of material benefit. 
[To be concluded in No, 79. ] on 


MILTON’S SONNET ON HIS BLINDNESS. 


Wuen I consider how my light is spent 
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 
And that one talent which is death to hide, 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My true account, lest he, returning, chide : 
“ Doth God exact day-labour, ight demied ?” 
I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon replies, “* God doth not need 
Either man’s work, or his own gifts; who best 
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state 
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And pass o’er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve, who only stand and wait.” 





*.° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 





LONDON :~CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST, 





Printed by Wittram Crowns, Stamford Street, - 


THE PENNY MAGAZ 


OF THE 





NE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








19, | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [June 29, 1833. 
“MELROSE ABBEY. 








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, [South-east View of ‘Melrose Abbey. | 


the foundation of a wall by which it had been surrounded 
are still to be seen; but no trace is to be discovered of 
the house itself: , 

The present abbey was founded in 1136, by King 
David'I., commonly called St. David—* a sore saint for 
the crown,’ as he was characterized by his descendant 
James VI., in allusion to the curtailment of the royal 
patrimony occasioned by his pious liberality. The new 
monastery was peopled:as soon as finished by an impor- 
tation of Cistertians from the hive of Rival (or Rivaulx) 
in Yorkshire—the first of that. order of monks which 


THis beautiful ruin stands in one of the vales of the 
Tweed, in the county of Roxburgh, having that river 
flowing on the north of it, and the Enldon hills looking 
down upon it from the south. The first abbey of Mel- 
rose stood about two miles east from the present, on 
the same bank of the Tweed, in a peninsula formed by 
a turn of the river, and terminating in a rocky precipice 
of some elevation. Hence the name Mail-ross, which in 
Celtic signifies a naked promontory, or tongue of land. 
The spot is still occupied by a hamlet called Old Melrose, 


to distinguish it from the larwer village which surrounds 


the present abbey. ‘This first house was'a foundation of. 


great antiquity, having been erected soon after the com- 
mencement of the seventh century. It was tenanted by 
an association of the Culdees, the primitive Christian 
clergy of Scotland, and is stated by Bede to have become 
an establishment of great celebrity so early as the year 
664. It was here that the famous St. Cuthbert com- 
menced his monastic life, and acquired the reputation 
which in his old age occasioned his transference to the 
greater monastery of Lindisfarne. The first monastery 
of Melrose, however, like all the religious buildings of 
those times, was probably a very humble edifice, and is 
said indeed to have been built only of wood. Parts of 
Vou. I. 


that of similar establishments. 


had been seen in Scotland, whence Melrose’ retained 
ever after the dignity of the Mother Cistertian Church 
of that country. It was dedicated to the Virgin in 1146. 

The history of this abbey during the four centuries it 
existed presents very few incidents to distinguish it from 
There is a valuable 
document, known as the ‘ Chronicle of Melrose,’ being 
a chronological account of Scottish affairs from 735 to 
1270, compiled by the monks, which ‘Thomas Gale has 
published in the first volume of his Rerum Anglicarum 
Scriptores. From the successive donations of its royal 
and other benefactors it rapidly rose to rreat wealth, and 
that notwithstanding the spoliation which it repeatedly 

21 


242 


sustained from incursions of the English, when the two 
countries were at war. In 1561, immediately before 
the dissolution, its revenues amounted to £1758 in 
money, besides large quantities of wheat, bere, meal, 
oats, poultry, butter, salt, &c. The number of the 
monks in later times seems to have varied from about 
eiehty to about one hundred. 

After the Reformation the monastery and its estates 
were granted by Queen Mary to the infamous James 
Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell, whom she afterwards 
married. On his forfeiture they were bestowed upon 
James Douglas, a brother of the Earl of Morton; and 
they subsequently passed through various possessors, 
till they were purchased, in the course of the last 
century, by the family of Buccleugh, to whom they now 
belong. Douglas pulled down a part of the abbey, and 
with the materials erected a mansion in the vicinity, 
which is still standing. It is probable, however, that 
the building suffered considerably before this in the 
tumults by which the reformation in Scotland was 
attended. It is said to have reeeived much additional 
injury from a popular attack upon it, as a monument 
of popery and episcopacy, in 1649. On tliis occasion 
many of the statues, or tmages, as they would be called, 
with which it was adorned, were broken to pieces; and 
indeed the tradition is, that the work of demolition was 
put an end to by a fright which the mob received from 
an accident which befel one of them, while levelling a 
blow at a figure of the Virgin. It appears at any rate 
that many of the statues which are now gone were in 
existence long after this time, as may be seen by an 
engraving of the abbey given in the first edition of 
Slezer’s Theatrum Scotiz, published in 1693. 

The church had been in the form of a cross, and the 


ruins which still remain consist principally of the southern | 


transept, a portion of the square tower which rose over 
the centre of the building, and the portion of the body 
of the church, including the choir and part of the nave, 
to the east of the tower. ‘The roof lias nearly all fallen 
in. Still, even in this state of decay and desolation, the 
pile remains a monument of architectural taste and skill 
of almost unrivalled beauty. ‘‘ Mailross,’ writes the 
eminent antiquary Francis Drake, im-a letter. to Roger 
Gale, dated 14th July, 1742, ‘“‘ I shall take upon me to 
say, has been the most exquisite structure of its kind 
in either kingdom.” Mr. Hutchinson, in his View of 
Northumberland (2 vols. 4to. 1778), from whose account 
of Melrose the notices that have since appeared have 
been chiefly borrowed, expresses himself in terms of 
equally fervent admiration. Speaking of the ornamental 
work on the door which had led from the northern tran- 
sept to the cloister, he says, “‘ The fillet of foliage and 
flowers is of the highest finishing that can be conceived 
to be executed in freestone, the same being pierced, the 
flowers and leaves separated from the stone behind, and 
suspended in a twisted garland. In the mouldings, 
pinnacle work, and foliage, of the seats which remain of 
the cloister, I am bold to say there is as great excellence 
to be found as in any stone work in Europe, for lichtness, 
ease, and disposition. Nature is studied through the 
whole, and the flowers and plants are represeuted as 
accurately as under the pencil. In this fabric there are 
the finest lessons, and the greatest variety of Gothic 
Ornaments, that the island affords, take all the religious 
structures together.” 

The chisel of the sculptor who thus ornamented Mel- 
rose has been singularly fortunate in the material upon 
which it was exercised, ‘The stone,’ says Scott, 
“though it has resisted the weather for so many ages, 
retains perfect sharpness, so that even the most minute 
ornaments seem as entire as when newly wrought. In 
some of the clcisters there are representations of flowers, 
vegetables, &c. carved in stone, with accuracy and pre- 
cision so delicate, that we almost distrust our senses, 
when we consider the difficulty of subjecting so hard a 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[JUNE 99, 


.substance to-such intricate and exqnisite modulation.” 


In the poem to which this note is appended, the Lay of 
the last Minstrel, the following lines also occur, cescrip- 
tive of the beauty of these representations and their nice 
fidelity to nature :— 


“ Spreading herbs and flowerets bright 
Glistened with the dew of night ; 
Nor herb nor floweret glistened there, 
But was carved in the cloister arches as fair. 

ee & * x * 

By a steel-clenched postern door 
They entered now the chancel tall, 
The darkened roof rose high aloof 
On pillars, lofty, and light, and small; 
The key-stone that locked eacli ribbed aisle, 
Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille ; 
The corbells were carved grotesque and grim ; 
And the pillars with clustered shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital flourished around, 
Seemed bundles of lances which patlands had bound.’ 


The most superb parts of the ruin are the entry to the 
southern transept with the window over it, and the great 
eastern window, both of which are represented in our 
engraving. Scott thus describes the latter as seen from 
the interior, by his hero William of Deloraine, and his 
guide “the Monk of St. Mary’s aisle :’— 

‘The moon on the east oriel shone, 
Through slender shafts of shapely stone, 
By fohaged tracery combined ; 
Thou would’st have thought some fairy’s hand, 
*J wixt poplars straight the osier wand, 
Jn many a freakish knot, had twined ; 
Then framed a spell, when the work was done, 
And changed the willow-wreaths to stone. 
The silver light, so pale and faint, 
Showed many a prophet, and many a saint, 
Whose image on the glass was dyed ; 
Full in the midst his cross of red 
Triumphant Michael brandished, 
And trampled the Apostate’s pride. 
The meonbeam kissed the holy pane, 
And threw on the pavement a bloody stain.” 


According to Hutchinson the entire length of the 
abbey is 258 feet, and that of the transept 137. Whiut 
remains of the tower is 75 feet in height, but it appears 
to have been anciently surmounted by a spire. The 
character of the architecture proves that very little of the 
building erected by David I. now remains. ‘The monas- 
tery is known to have undere@one an extensive restoration 
during the reign of Robert Bruce in the early part of the 
fourteenth century; and what we now see is probably 
the work of that age. 

There is no other remnant of antiquity in Scotland 
which has of late years been so much visited by strangers 
as Melrose. Since the publication of the Lay of the last 
Minstrel especially, the fame of the place has been carried 
wherever our language is known. This general admi- 
ration has occasioned a good deal to be done for the 
preservation of the ruin. Formerly a part of the nave 
was used as the parish church, and the erectious rendered 
necessary by this appropriation sadly injured the effect 
of the ancient architecture. A new parish church has 
lately been built, and the abbey is left to the solitude 
and silence best becoming its dismantled state, and that 
of the fallen faith of which it is the monument, The 
beautiful ruin may now be contemplated without the 
pensive remembrances which it recalls being broken in 
upon by any foreign and incongruous associations, as the 
well-known lines of Scott have described it:— 

“Tf thou would’st view fair Melrose anght, 
Go visit it by the pale moonhght ; 
For the gay beams of lightsome day 
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray. 
When the broken arches are black in night, 
And each shafted oriel glimmers wlute ; 
When the cold light’s uncertain shower 
Streams on the ruined central tower ; 
When buttress and buttress, alternately, 
Seem framed of ebou and ivory ; 


When silver edges the imagery, _ 
And the scrolis that teach thee to live and die; 


1833.] 


When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 

And the owlet to hoot o’er the dead man’s grave 5 
Then go,—but go alone the while— 

Then view St. David’s ruined pile ; 

And, home returning, soothly swear, 

Was never scene so sad and fair !” 





CONFLAGRATIONS OF FORESTS IN SWEDEN. 


We extract the following animated passage from Sir 
Arthur de Capell Brooke's very interesting Travels 
through Swedeu, Norway, and Finmark, to the North 
Cape :— 

‘‘ We passed by some extensive tracts of forests con- 
sumed by fire, the appearance of which was desolating 
in the extreme. The beautiful covering of lively green, 
on which the eye had rested with such pleasure, had 
disappeared ; while around lay scattered in all directions 
blackened trunks of the withered pines, like fragments 
of charcoal. Various causes may be said to combine in 
producing these northern conflagrations ; it is not sur- 
prising, therefore, that they should so often occur. It 
-§ a general practice with the peasants, when they wish 
.o clear a portion of forest that may have been allotted 
them, to effect it by burning. ‘This not only saves them 
the infinite labour of removing the thick underwood, 
aud facilitates the progress of the axe, but is of very 
beneficial consequence to the land, as the ashes form a 
highly fertilizing manure. It frequently happens, how- 
ever, from not using proper precautions, or from begin- 
ning the operation of burning when the dry season is 
too far advanced, that they are unable to confine the fire 
within the intended limits; and it soon spreads itself 
over a wide tract of country, carrying with it destruction 
and ruin. Sometimes these extensive conflagrations 
arise from motives of malice or revenge: and an 
instauce was related to me of a peasant, who applied 
for a portion of forest to clear and cultivate, which is 
generally granted ; but finding his request refused, irri- 
tated by the disappointment, he set it on fire. The 
whole country, for many miles around, was involved in 
flames ; and a considerable length of time elapsed before 
it could be stopped. Lightning not unfrequently causes 
these extensive devastations, falling upon the dry branches 
of a decayed pine, which it sets on fire, and this commu- 
nicates quickly to the parched moss beneath. A peasant, 
after smoking, knocks out the ashes of his pipe; for 
some hours they lie smothering aud concealed; by and 
by the rising breeze fans them into life and flame, and 
the work of destruction is begun. Running through the 
moss, as dry and inflammable as tinder, the flame meets 
with a pine, and quick as lightning ascends it, assisted 
by the resinous juices of the tree. In this manner it 
spreads rapidly through the whole forest, which, crack- 
ling amid flame and smoke, presents a Spectacle terrific 
and imposing. ‘The distant traveller, ignorant of the 
cause, sees with astonishment the singular red appearance 
of the horizon; and should he unfortunately have to 
pass through the burning forest, he will find it very 
difficult to avoid its fury. Surrounded on all sides by 
falling trees, his path concealed by sinoke and flame, he 
stands bewildered, uncertain whether to advance or 
retreat. If a breeze arise, the whole forest glows; a 
thousand loud explosions are heard around; and shouid 
the gently refreshing shower descend, a loud hissing is 
heard, a dense smoke creeps along, and the smothering 
flames are for the moment repressed, only to burst out 
afresh with greater fury. The tenants of the forest, 
driven from their wild haunts, hitherto undisturbed, flee 
before their irresistible enemy into parts before secure 
from their attacks; and bears and wolves, forced from 
their accustomed retreats toward the habitations of man, 
make desperate attacks upon the cattle of the peasants. 
Few spectacles can be conceived more fearfully sublime 
than a conflagration of this kind in uninhabited parts 
of the North, to one who witnesses from the mountain 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


248 


| top the progress of the flames, and the alteration so 


quickly made on the smiling face of nature, at the 
approach of the destroying element.”’—p, 41, &c. 

Farther north than the country referred to by our 
English traveller, i. e. in Lulea Lapland, the great Swe- 
dish naturalist, Linnaeus, of whom we gave some account 
in No. 72 of our Magazine, had a narrow escape for his 
life from one of these forests set on fire by lightning. 
This happened in a season of remarkable drought. ‘“ [ 
traversed,’ says he, ‘‘ a space three quarters of a mile in 
extent (about four miles and a half Eenelish), which was 
entirely burnt; so that Flora, instead of appearing in her 
gay and verdant attire, was in deep sable; a spectacle 
more abhorrent to my feelings than to see her clad in 
the white livery of winter; for this, though it destroys 
the herbage, leaves the roots in safety, which the fire 
does not. The fire seemed nearly extinguished in most 
of the spots we visited, except in ant-hills and dry trunks 
of'trees. After we had travelled about half a quarter of a 
mile (Swedish), across one of these scenes of desolation, 
the wind began to blow with rather more force than it 
had previously done; upon which a sudden noise arose 
in the half-burnt forest, such as IT can only compare to 
what may be imagined among a large army attacked 
by an enemy. We knew not whither to turn our steps; 
the smoke would not suffer us to remain where we were, 
and we durst not turn back. Jt seemed best to hasten 
forward in hopes of speedily reaching the outskirts ef the 
wood, but in this we were disappointed. We ran as fast 
as we could, in order to avoid being crushed by the 
falling trees, some of which threatened us every minute. 
Sometimes the fall of a large trunk was so sudden, that 
we stood aghast, not knowing whiciz way to turn to 
escape destruction, and throwing ourselves entirely on 
the protection of Providence. Jn one instance a large 
tree fell eracily between me and my guide, who walked 
not morethan a fathom from me; but, thanks to God! 
we both escaped in safety. Wewere not a little rejoiced 
when this perilous adventure terminated, for we had felt 
all the while like a coupte of outlaws in momentary fear 
of surprise.”’—Lacchesis Lapponica. 


Bear-Hunting an Sweden and Norway.—At Haga (near 
the frontiers of Norway), we first heard great complaints of 
the bears in the neighbouring forests, and of the ravages 
they had made among fhe cattle. A fortnight before, three 
had been killed by the peasantry, which they described as 
being as large as the smail horses that drew our vehicle, and 
of the black species. For the purpose of destroying them, 
the peasants ‘assemble in large numbers, and extending 
themselves in a line, beat through the part of the forest where 
they are supposed to be, uttering at the same time loud 
shouts, and firing occasionally theix guns. The bears being 
thus disturbed assemble together, sometimes to the number 
of twenty, and the hunters then collecting their forces 
surround them and commence a general fire upon the foe. 
This kind of hunting is attended to those who pursue it 
singly with considerable danger ; as if the first shot miss, or 
any other part than the head be wounded, the enraged 
animal rmshes upon the aggressor, whose only dependence 
must then be upon his own speed, though by retreating 
quickly behind a tree, if he have sufficient agility, he may 
have a chance of escaping. In Norway, however, as well as 
in the northern parts of Sweden, the peasant undaunted goes 
thus in pursuit of the bear unattended, relying upon his own 
skill and activity, and generally returns triumphant. Some- 
times he takes along with him two or three small dogs, which 
when the bear is found by barking around him, divert his 
attention from the hunter who is thus enabled to get a 
certain shot. In this manner a peasant in the neighbourhood 
of Kongsvingerin Norway, who was celebrated for his address 
in this kind of hunting, had in a very short time destroyed 
six of these animals. An instance of singular courage tock 
place the preceding winter «t Haga, in a peasant who 


| searching for his cow found a large bear making a repast on 


her. Unterrified, though armed only with his hatchet, he 
without hesitation attacked it, and had the good fortune ta 
come off victorious without sustaining anyinjury.—Sir Arthur 
de Capel! Brooke's Travels in Sweden, &c. . 

212 


244 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrion 10. 
ORGANIC REMAINS, 


Ir will be in the recollection of our readers, that in 
giving these geological sketches we set out with no 
other intention than that of laying before them a con- 
densed view of the great leading facts connected with 
the structure of the earth’s crust, as an introduction 
necessary to the right understanding of the articles we 
propose to insert from time to time, on the great mineral 
productions which belong to the business of common 
life. The introductory matter has grown under our 
hand beyond what we at first contemplated it would 
extend to, but we should leave it too imperfect unless 
we said somewhat more on the subject of organic 
remains. We shall, however, limit ourselves to a few 
important facts connected with the great classes of fossil 
organized bodies. ? : 

We have said that shells are by far the most numerous 
class of fossils: they are found in all formations, from 
the lowest stratum in which animal remains have been 
seen, to the most recent deposit now in progress. To 
a person who has made conchology (or the science 
of shells) a special object of study, there are many 
striking differences between those found in a fossil 
state and such as now exist in our seas, lakes, and 
rivers; but were we to describe or give representations 
of even remarkable fossil shells, a general reader would 
discover in inost of them nothing so peculiar as to 
arrest his attention. There is, however, one which is 
so different from any thing now living, and of such 
common occurrence in a fossil state, that we are 
induced to give it as a good example of an extinct 
genus. It is called the Ammonite, formerly the Cornu 
Ammonis, that is, the horn of Ammon, from its resein- 
blance to those horns which are affixed to the head of 
the statues of Jupiter Ammon. 






pee 
14 
m\ 
“a \ 


fy 


; Sa 
\ SSS 
¢ f- 
Bt yA > =, ee 
Rg ees) 
= ? 


@° 






- Fig. A is a representation of the exterior of one of 
the numerous species of which this genus is composed. 
These shells are found of all sizes, from that of a few 
lines to nearly four feet in diameter, and above three hun- 
dred different species are said to have been observed. 
When the shell is slit, it exhibits the appearance repre- 
sented by the following fig. B, for it is usually filled with 
Stony matter, and often with transparent sparry crys- 
tals. It consists of a series of small chambers or cells 
arranged in a form like a coiled snake, the different 


cells having apparently a communication with each| . 


other by a small tube or canal which runs near the 
outward margin of the coil. It is supposed that the 
animal first inhabited the innermost cell, that as it srew 


it formed larger and larger cells for itself, keeping up| 


the communication with the former one. .It is con- 
ceived, too, that the animal had the power of filling or 
emptying these cells, so as to regulate its motion in 
the water, filling them when it wanted to occupy the 
depths of the sea, and emptying them when it wished 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[JUNE 29, 


to make itself lichter in order to rise to the surface. 
The living shell to which it has the nearest resem- 
blance is the nautilus. ‘This remarkable fossil is found 
in all the stratified rocks from the Mountain Limestone 
(see Diagram, Sec. 2, p. 21,0.) to the uppermost of the 
secondary strata. It thus continued to be reproduced 
through many succeeding ages, long after other genera, 
its first cotemporaries, had become extinct; but it also 
in its turn ceased to exist, at the period when the tertiary 
strata began to be formed. The shell is so extremely 
thin, and so brittle, that it is rare to find perfect speci- 
mens, unless when preserved by being: incased in hard 
stone. 


ly 














SS - \. 
ey 
at 
Mi Whi Hi ite { 
i a i | 


& 





t 






| ta 
i ruil 







Lig! x 
Ty u) f 






iil ir 


ll i 


| 


ct 
{ 


oe 





(Fig. B.) 


‘There are some genera of shells in the lowest strata 
containing animal remains, which are also found. inha 
biting our present seas; but there is not a single species 
of any of the genera of shells found in the whole range 
of the secondary strata that is identical with a living 
species ; all are extinct. In the oldest of the tertiary 
beds, some shells are found identical ‘with living species, 
and the proportion of these increases the more recent the 
deposit, until at last they greatly predominate over the 
extinct species in the more recent deposits. It is thus 
evident that there has been an extinction of some genera 
and species, and a creation of others, in a constant state 
of progression, from the earliest periods of the earth's 
history. .In the case of fossil shells, as well as other 
organic remains, a great proportion bear a_ strong 
analogy to such as are now only known to inhabit 
tropical seas. | 






te © f, 
= a LIAN 
ee ES dy ay Me 
= ND: 


=* 
S 
— 
S 
S 
= 
= 





(Fig. D.) 


Fieures C and D are specimens of two species of a 
crustaceous marine animal, which has been wholly 
extinct from an early period in the formation of the 
crust of the globe; myriads of ages may have elapsed 
since it ceased to exist. It has not been found in any 
rock lying above the Mountain Limestone, and that 
rock is so low in the series of the strata that the earth 
must have undergone many successive revolutions, each 
separated by an interval of vast duration, since the time 


1833.] 


when these animals were inhabitants of the sea. There 
are several species of the animal, which has been called 
Fritozite, from the body being composed of three longi- 
tudinal divisions or lobes. It was first brought under 
the notice of naturalists by the name of the Dudley 
Fossil, being found very frequently in the limestone 
near the town of that name in Worcestershire, uot far 


~ gy? : g } f N , f ‘ 
ET EET MG | A OA A 
‘ | | it { ; Hi a: Aly 
\ i iy } N \ , - is i i . ¢ f 
Y : A VAY M, A Rh aef’ 4 4 ‘ae rich &: ve Y ¥ re ; Wont ; 
ey ASE CA PO IS Oa 


(Fig. E.) 


Another fossil animal which is very peculiar in its 
form is that represented in fig. E, called the Lily 
Encrinite. It resembles that flower upon its stalk, 
and still more so when the several parts of which the 
flower-like extremity is composed, are separated and 
spread out; specimens of it in this state are not unfre- 
quently met with. The animal lived in the base of 
the flower, and the separable parts stretched out like 
arms to seize its prey. It was fixed to the ground by 
the other extremity of the stalk. That stalk is not a 
sinele piece, but consists of a number of distinct joints 
like those of the back-bone, or like a necklace of beads, 
on which account the fossil has been sometimes called 
Encrinites Moniliformis, or Necklace-form iucrinite. 
The stalk is perforated through its whole length, and 
the joints when separated have figured surfaces, such as 
are represented above in the circular bodies @, b,c; d, e, 
the figure being different at different parts of the stalk. 
This family of radiated animals, which consists of many 
extinct genera and species, has not wholly disappeared 
like the trilobite and ammonite; living representatives 
of it are still found in the seas of the West Indies, and 
a very perfect specimen may be seen in the Museum of 
the Geological Society: but the lily encrinite, that 
branch of the family, is not only wholly extinct, but has 
been so ever since the period when the New Red Sand- 
stone was deposited. It appears to have had compara- 
tively a short existence, for it has only been found in a 
limestone which occurs associated with the New Red 
Sandstone. It is met with abundantly in that particular 
limestone which occupies a great extent of country in 
Germany, but the fossil has never been seen in England, 
and that kind of limestone is not found in our island. 

The remains of fishes occur in almost every stratum, 
from the Old Red Sandstone up to the most recent depo- 
sits of fresh-water lakes. Fossil fish have been less 
accurately made out, as to the genera to which they 
belong, than any other kind of animal remains, because 
the natural history of fishes is not so far advanced as 
that of most other departments of zoology. ‘The great 
French naturalist Cuvier began an extensive work on 
the subject, and had he lived much would have been 
done, for his master-genius threw light on every thing 
he touched. One of the most celebrated places for fossil 
fish is a hill near Verona in Italy, called Monte Bolca; 
immense quantities have been found there in a very 
perfect state of preservation, as far as the form is con- 
cerned, but, as in most other cases, quite flattened and 
thin, so that they are like a painting or encraving of a 
fish. These impressions are of rare occurrence in com- 
parison with the quantity of separate bones that are 
found in most strata; teeth of the shark are frequently 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





245 


from Birmingham ; but it is also found in other parts 
of England, in Germany, and Sweden, and specimens 
have been brought from North America. It is met 
with in some spots in such immense quantities that it 
must have had prodigious powers of multiplication. In 
some parts of Wales the slate is so full of fragments of 
the animal that millions must have swarmed on the spot. 










Py \ é UL 
AA Le Sh Poh 
Mh, eaeee Egayensese a 





. 


w S 


pbb’ 


| 







A : or ret 


met with, and sometimes of a size which must have 
belonged to individuals of giant dimensions, such as are 
not now seen in any Seas. 

By far the most remarkable fossil remains of extinct 
marine animals are certain species which resemble the 
crocodile and alligator, and often of a magnitude which 
these never reach ; but we must defer to another section 
what we have to say respecting these extraordinary crea- 
tures, which were inhabitants of our planet at a period 
of its history when the climate of the sea that covered 
the deposits now forming the cliffs of Lyme Regis, 1n 
Dorsetshire, was as hot as the West Indies. 








THE ANGLO-CHINESE KALENDAR FOR THE 
YEAR OF THE CHRISTIAN ERA 1833. 


We have before us a copy of a publication, with the 
above title, bearing to be printed in China, at the Albion 
press, and to be on sale “ at Markwick and Lane’s, 
Canton and Macao ;” “ where also,” it is added, “‘ may be 
obtained, A Companion to the Anglo-Chinese Kalendar 
for 1832; containing various commercial and other 
tables, many of which continue applicable to the present 
time.” The price of the Companion is one Spanish 
dollar, that of the Kalendar half as much, or 50 cents. 
We regard this production as a very great curiosity, and 
as one of the most interesting signs of the times. ‘The 
printing press may be said to take a decided part in the 
reculation of human affairs, when it begins to throw off 
newspapers and almanacs. Up to this point literature 
is the luxury of a few; thenceforth it becomes a neces- 
sary of life to all, and exercises the power appertaining 
to that character. The present is, over all the globe, the 
age of this its new and more mighty manifestation. It 
is some years since a newspaper, printed partly in the 
native tongue of the tribe, was established among the 
Cherokees of North America. There is more than one 
newspaper now published in the popular dialect of India. 
Even the Turks now have their printed newspaper. 
And here we have an Almanac and Companion printed 
in China, where, we believe, an English newspaper has 
also been for some time published. This country, in- 
deed, is the native land of the art of printing, which was 
practised here many centuries before it was known in 
Europe; but yet, all circumstances considered, the ap- 
pearance of an English Almanac from the press of 
Canton is perhaps more remarkable than any of the 
other novelties we have mentioned. 

The Anglo-Chinese Kalendar commences by some in- 
troductory remarks on the Chinese year, which is iuni- 
solar, that is to say, is regulated by the motions of the 
moon, but is accommodated also, in a rude and imperfect 


246 


way, to that of the sun, by the insertion, or intercalation, 
as it is celled, of an occasional thirteenth month, when 
requisite. ‘The year 1833 of our reckoning corresponds 
to the Chinese year Kwei-sxe, or the thirtieth of the 75th 
cycle of sixty, which commenced on the 20th of Fe- 
bruary, and is the thirteenth of the reigning Emperor 
Taoukwang. ‘The Chinese week consists, like our own, 
of seven days, one of which is kept as a holiday or 
sabbath, 

The present Kalendar is drawn up acoording to the 
European form, and contains, besides notices of anniver- 
saries, a list of festivals and remarkable days, compre- 
hending most of those observed either in China or Chris- 
tendom. Some notes are appended, explanatory of the 
Chinese festivals, from which we shall give one or two 
extracts. The following is the note on the festival of 
Spring, or the Leih-chun term-day, being the 15th. day of 
the 12th moon, which this year fell on the 4th of February : 
“This day, the period of the sun’s reaching the 15th 
degree in Aquarius, is one of the chief days of the Chi- 
nese Kalendar, and is celebrated with great pomp, as 
well by the government as by the people. In every 
capital city there are made, at this period, two clay 
images, of a man and a buffalo. The day previous to 
the festival, the chefoo, or chief city-magistrate, goes out 
to ying chun, meet spring; on which occasion children 
are carried about on men’s shoulders, each vying with 
his neighbour in the gorgeousness and fancifulness of 
the children’s dresses. The following day, being the 
day of the festival, the chefoo again appears as priest of 
spring, in which capacity he is, for the day, the first man 
in the province. Hence the chief officers do not move 
from home on this day. After the chefoo has struck the 
buffalo with a whip two or three times, in token of com- 
mencing the labours of agriculture, the populace then 
stone the image till they break it in pieces. ‘The festivi- 
ties continue ten days.” 

The 20th of February, as already mentioned, was this 
year the new-year’s day of the Chinese. It is called by 
them Yuen tan, or “the first morning.” ‘The period of 
new year,” says the Kalendar, ‘‘is almost the only time 
of universal holiday in China. Other times and seasons 
are regarded only by a few or by particular classes, but 
the new year is accompanied with a general cessation 
of business. The officer, the merchant, and the labourer, 
all equally desist from work, and zealously engage in 
visiting and feasting,—occasionally making offerings at 
the temples of those deities whose peculiar aid they wish 
to implore. Government offices are closed for about ten 
days before, and twenty days after new year; during 
which period none but very important business is trans- 
acted. On the last evening of the old year, all trades- 
men’s bills and small debts are paid. This is perhaps 
the reason why it is called choo seth, the evening of 
dismissal.’ 

We may add the aceount of the festival of dragon 
boats, called in Chinese, Twan-woo or T'wang-yang, and 
also Téen-chung, falling this year on the 22d of June. 
“ On this day many people race backwards and for- 
wards, in lone narrow boats, which being variously 
painted and ornamented so as to resemble dragons, are 
called lang chuen, ‘ dragon boats, From the narrow- 
ness of the boats, and the number of persons on board, 
there being sometimes from sixty to eighty oars, or 
rather paddles, it frequently happens that several of the 
boats break in two; so that the festivities seldom con- 
clude without loss of several lives. Tradesmen’s ac- 
counts are cleared off at this period.” 

The Chinese, we find, have their immortal Francis 
Moore as well as ourselves. The 5th of July, being 
the eighteenth day of the fifth moon, is the birth-day of 
the astronomer Chang, of whom the following account 
is given: “This individual, who formerly superintended 


the making of the Chinese Kalendar, is supposed still to | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(June 29, 


exist, and to predict eclipses, and other astronomical, as 
well as astrological phenomena.” 

The most interesting part.of this Kalendar, however, is 
iis account of the Chinese seasons, given in the form of 
notices at the head of each month. It may be pre- 
sumed that, prepared as they are in the country to which 
they refer, the correctness of these descriptions may be 
depended on; and we shall therefore give the whole. 


‘ JANUARY.—The weather, during the month of January 
is dry, cold, and bracing ; differing but little, ifat all, from 
the two preceding months, November and December. The 
wind blows generally from the north, occasionally inclining 
to north-east or north-west. Any change to south causes 
considerable variation in the temperature of the atmosphere 

Fresruary.—During this month the thermometer con 
tinues low; but the dry bracing cold of the three preceding 
months is changed for a damp and chilly atmosphere. The 
number of fine days is much diminished, and cloudy or foggy 
days are of more frequent recurrence in February and Mareh 
thanin any other months. At Macao the fog is often so dense 
as to render objects invisible at a very few yards distance. 

Marcu.—The weather in the month of March is also damp 
and foggy, but the temperature of the atmosphere becomes 
considerably warmer. ‘To preserve things from damp it is 
requisite to continue the use of fires and closed rooms, which 
the heat of the atmosphere renders very unpleasant. From 
this month the thermometer increases in height until July 
and August, when the heat is at its maximum. 

“Aprit.—The thick fogs which begin to disappear toward 
the close of March are in April seldom if ever seen. The 
atmosphere however continues damp, and rainy days are not 
unfrequent. At the same time the thermometer gradually 
rises, the nearer approach of the sun rendering its heat more 
perceptible. In this and the following summer months south- 
easterly winds generally prevail. 

May.—In this month summer is fully set in, and the heat, 
particularly in Canton, is often oppressive; the more so from 
the closeness of the atmosphere, the winds being usually 
light and variable. This is the most rainy month in the 
year, averaging fifteen days and a half of heavy rain; cloudy 
days without rain are however of unfrequent occurrence ; and 
one half of the month averages fair sunny weather. 

JUNE.—June is also a very wet month, though, on an 
average, the number of rainy days is less than in the other 
summer months. The thermometer in this month rises 
several degrees higher than in May, and falls but little at 
nrght, It is this circumstance, chiefly, which occasions the 
exhaustion often felt in this country from the heat of summer. 

JuLy.—This month is the hottest in the year, the ther- 
mometer averaging eighty-eight in the shade at noon, both 
at Canton and Macao. It is likewise subject to frequent 
heavy showers of rain; and, as is also the month of August, 
to storms of thunder and lightning. The winds blow almost 
unintermittingly from south-east or south. 

Avueust.—In this month the heat is generally as oppres- 
sive, and often more so than in July, although the ther- 
mometer usually stands lower. Towards the close of the 
month the summer begins to break up, the wind occasionally 
veering from south-east to north and north-west. Typhons 
seldom occur earlier than this month, or later than the end 
of September. 

SEPTEMBER.—JIn this month the monsoon is entirely 
broken up, and northerly winds begin to blow, but with little 
alleviation of heat. This is the period most exposed to the 
description of hurricanes called Typhons, the range of which 
extends southwards, over about one-half of the Chinese sea, 
but not far northward. They are most severe in the Gulf 
of Tonquin. 

OcroBerR.—Northerly winds prevail throughout the month 
of October, occasionally veering to north-east or north-west ; 
but the temperature of the atmosphere is neither so cold 
nor so dry as in the following months. Neither does the 
northerly wind blow so constantly, a few days of southerly 
wind frequently intervening. The winter usually sets in 
with three or four days of drizzling rain. 

NovEMBER.—This month and the following are the plea- 
santest in the year, to the feelings, at least, of persons from 
more northern climes. Though the thermometer is not often 
below forty, and seldom so low as thirty, the cold of the 
Chinese winter is often intense. Ice sometimes forms about 
one-eighth of an inch thick, but this is usually in December 
or January, | 


1833.] 


DeceMBER.—Tne months of December and January are 
remarkably free from rain; the average fall in each month 
being under one inch, and the average number of rainy 
days being only three and a half. On the whole, the climate 
of Canton, but more especially of Macao, may be considered 
very superior to that of most other places situated between 
the tropics.” 


The following Table presents a view of the range 
of the Thermometer at Canton :— 





pe i ae “Niet” Highest. | Lowest. 
De ian ia 64 50 74 ‘99 
Mommy... . 57 49 78° 38 
March , 72 GO 82 44 
| ce a 7/7 68 86 55 
May . . ; 78 fo 88 64 
June gt &5 79 90 74 
a... owe 88 81 94 79 
muense. . §5 78 90 75 
Sepfember... « & . 83 76 88 70 
Oca sod bites . dd 69 85 57 
November. .... 67 57 80 AO 
December. .... 62 52 70 45 


ON EMIGRATION TO GREECE. 
[Concluded from p. 240.] 


AccorpInG to the agreement concluded between the 
Porte and the three Great Powers, the Turks in Eubcea 
and some parts of Attica have sold or are still selling 
their estates. ‘Thus many private individuals find them- 
selves proprietors of extensive territories, of which, how- 
ever, from the causes above-mentioned, yast tracts lie 
waste, and they consequently derive little profit from 
lands which, in this country, would be of immense 
value. ‘They would receive those who have some ac- 
quaintance with agriculture most thankfully, and would 
supply them with land at a very moderate rent. This 
is not a mere supposition ; the writer has been assured of 
it by many proprietors personally. Rent has been men- 
tioned, although to receive a fixed sum for the use of acer- 
tain portion of land has not been customary. The common 
agreement is still the same which has been alluded to as 
subsisting between the ‘Turk and his peasant, but is open 
to sv many objections on account of the disadvantages 
both to landlord and tenant that it will probably soon 
fali into disuse. ‘The former provides each family on his 
estate with a cottage, a yoke of oxen, and sufticient 
seed for one Zeugari (literally, yoke, used to designate 
an extent of from fifty to sixty acres in Eubcea, of one 
hundred and upwards in Attica and other parts); and 
the tenant, after collecting the harvest, from which is first 
deducted the seed for the next year’s sowing, divides the 
remainder into equal parts, one for himself; and one for 
his landlord. If the tenant finds his own oxen and 
seed, he only gives one-third of the produce to the 
landholder. The abuses to which this arrangement is 
subject are too evident to require pointing out. 

it remains to add a few more detailed remarks upon 
the climate and produce of the country. 

The climate, in general, may be said to hold a middle 
station between the burning heat of Egypt and that of 
the temperate zone. ‘The air is clear and wholesome, 
and the sea-breezes, which penetrate into the deep bays 
that characterize this land, tend greatly to banish that 
feeling of oppression which usually accompanies heat 
during the summer months in southern climes. The 
winter is almost invariably mild, snow being seldom 
seen except on the summits of the mountains. This 
season announces its approach during the month of 
November by casual showers, which become more fre- 
quent as it advances. ‘The only period during which 
any degree of cold is felt is from the latter end of De- 
cember to the middle of February. Towards the close 


of the latter month the flowers of spring cover the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


247 


mountain-side, among which the rich and varied dye 
of the wild anemone is eminently distinguishable. The 
almond-tree scatters its silver blossoms to the wind, 
which are speedily followed by those of the whole tribe 
of odour-breathing fruit-trees. Still now and then dark 
clouds roll down from the mountains, and breaking 
with claps of thunder over the plain and valley, 
continue to supply the earth with moisture against the 
coming of summer. In March the peasant sows cotton, 
cuts his vines, and begins once more to use _ his 
plough. ‘The storms occur more rarely, and a smiling, 
as yet not burning, sun, in a clear sky, calls forth a 
vegetation which reaches its highest luxuriance and 
perfection as early as the month of April; the myrtle, 
the laurel, and the oleander, supplying the place of 
our northern bushes. ‘Towards the end of April the 
autumn-sown wheat and barley are in full blossom: from 
May to the close’ of October the heavens present one 
bright expanse of cloudless blue. ‘he heat is great; 
and after the harvest nature seems to enjoy a perfect 
repose, the most delicious fruits serving to refresh the 
innabilants during this period. In October is the 
vintage. The island of Eubcea, the writer has been 
told, is not quite so free from rain during the summer 
months, which must be a ereat relief. ‘There are some 
spots injurious to health, where the air is unwholesome 
and causes fevers; but this probably arises from the 
neglect of cultivation, and from the water having been 
allowed to form morasses. It is to be expected, there- 
fore, that when the causes are removed the effect will 
cease; yet, of course, 1t were better that such spots as 
stand in bad repute should be avoided by the settler, 
As far as the writer’s experience, and the testimony of 
many who have spent several years in the country can 
prove, the climate, on the whole, is certainly healthy. 
At the same time, as it is a great change to an emigrant 
coming from a northern country, certain precautious are 
very advisable. Moderation in food and drink, parti- 
cularly in fruit, and care not to expose the body to cold 
by a change of temperature, are two rules of especial 
importance. 

The productions of this kinsdom are very various. 
The cultivation of wheat and barley is general, and very 
successful. Oats are not so common, neither do they 
prosper so well, for which reason the horses are gene- 
rally fed with barley. Maize is much valued, particularly 
as winter fodder for cattle: it grows to a great size, but 
requires a damp situation, or a spot which is capable of 
being irrigated. ‘Lhe cotton plant is another common 
production, which likewise requires much moisture. ‘The 
chief riches of the country, however, consist in oil, wine, 
and silk. The fable of Minerva presenting the olive to 
the Greeks is well known, and certainly it is a o@ift which 
cannot be too highly valued, yielding a rich and never- 
ceasing supply (for this tree, from the immense age it 
attains, is said never to perish), and requiring but a 
very small share of labour. Honey is supplied in great 
abundance, and of the best quality. Rice is partially 
cultivated, but is inferior in quality to the Egyptian. 
Oranges and lemons in profusion, as well as fruits of 
almost every description, arrive at perfection in this 
genial climate. The potato is little known, but has 
been tried by a gentleman of the writer's acquaintance 
in Euboea, who assured him it was very productive ; 
indeed, nearly every variety of vegetable flourishes, and 
is plentiful. 

The northern part o: Eubcea is richly wooded. 
Among the most common trees are the pine, the oak, 
the plane-tree, the chesnut, and the walnut. The pine, 
which seems now to be of use merely on account of the 


i rosin which is obtained by cutting deep notches into the 


trunk, or as fuel, will, when saw-mills are introduced, 
when roads are made, and the means of transporting 
the felled trunks to the sea are provided, become an 
object of great importance. The planks for the flooring 


248 


of dwelling-houses are at present brought from Trieste, 
which of course renders them very expensive. ‘This 
pine is of a species too which can be used for ship- 
building ; and the distance from Eubcea to the port of 
Syra, where the greatest part of the Grecian vessels are 
constructed, is very inconsiderable. 

There is very little difficulty in conveying the produce 
of the soil to a ready market. The sea is nearly every 
where so accessible, and there are so many hundreds 
who gain a livelihood by their little vessels, employed in 
transporting the goods of one island or part of the coun- 
try to another where they are more wanted, or to some 
port where they can be embarked im larger vessels for 
exportation, that as soon as any commodity is known to 
be for sale, it is soon sought for and carried away. ‘The 
price of provisions is perhaps about two-thirds cheaper 
on an average than in England*. 


* Milk is searce—sheep’s milk alone is used. Mutton 2d. per |b. 
Bread 3d. per loaf, weighing 2}]1bs. Wine 14d. per bottle. Eggs 
2d. or 3d. per dozen. Beef is scarce. Goat’s flesh is cheaper, and 
commonly used by the people. Fruit is exceedingly cheap—grapes 
less than 12d. per |b. 


Sy SS 


Fal 7; PAL 
cat wenerp ae 
SD 


ce eS 
Lipa 


Tabs 7 J Dee te, 
Le ES Pied RES i foe Pt 2 
“ie weak, ae ai TINTS ea ih ial Oe eka 
RePaS TR ST 2d ll ity eee aust 8 I flee 
ea rape ik; eatin ean Sos he =a 


ay 
ai 


papas STP TTLIT STL SULIT ee : . ; Gide 
sn CCL kL (isUitt 


i 
apbaey 








THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[June 29, 1833. 


Undoubtedly such a country as that of which we have 
here given a faithful picture, offers advantages for emi- 
eration ; still it must not be supposed that there is not 
here likewise much to struggle against, especially if the 
emigrant is entirely without means. In many respects 
Greece is yet a wild country, aud much remains to be 
done. Roads there are few or none; and the dwellings 
that may at first be given or raised for new comers, will 
be found to present accommodations inferior perhaps 
to those even of the lowest class of cottages in Eng- 
land. The difference of language and of religion is also 
of courseto be considered as among the inconveniences ~ 
with which the emigrant must lay his account. 

As to the opening offered to mechanics, there is no 
doubt that with the advance of improvement in the 
country many would find full employment, and -be well 
paid, as the Greeks themselves are nearly ignorant of 
many branches of industry. There are but very few 
manufacturers of any description;. therefore the emi- 
erant would do well to take with him. any articles of 
household use, such as cloth, linen, knives, &c. &c. 


a 
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[View of the Town of Egripos in Kuboa; from the Sea.] : woe... 


ae 
al 


A Summer Evening and Night in Sweden.—Evening 
now closed upon us, unaccompanied however with that dusk 


so pleasing and grateful to the eye overpowered by the burn- 


ing glare of the day. The contrast between a summer even- 
ing in Sweden and England is sufficiently striking. In the 
latter, the busy hum of the country gradually subsiding, the 
barking. of the village cur mingled with the noisy gambols of 
the children upon the green, are borne by the gale upon the 


listening stranger in the sweet notes of peace and harmony, 
till the grey. vest of night spreads around and ‘closes the’ 


scene.:, Inthe former, ;the sun reluctantly quits the horizon 
at eleven o'clock, his lingering rays even at fhe hour of mid- 
night throw a streak-of crimson light across the heavens, and 
impart.a fiery tinge to the landscape, a dead silence reigns, 
and creation reposes in the absence of the night. Even in 
the smalJ-hamlets,‘thinly scattered through the immense 
forests,-at a very early hour of-evening no traces of inhabitants 
appear. The ploughman’s whistle, the lowing of the herds, 
and the deep tone‘ of: the evening curfew, so enchantingly 
described by our bard (Gray, in-his exquisite and well-known 
Elegy in a Country Church-yard), are unheard ; and not a 
sound strikes upon the ear, except perchance the distant tone 
of the lure, blown by some Swedish peasant-boy to collect his 
wandering cows. The whispering breeze, however, creeping 


through the-dark pine forest, sighs in melancholy accents 


sweet as the /Kolian lyre,’ and fills the mind with the softest 


emotions; while the eye, darting between the tall straight | 


trunks rising in quick succession, conjures up amid the 


i = 20 


surrounding gloom the flittmg forms of fancy. Thus fora 
short tre eve's pensive hour glides silently on, undisturbed 
and, unenjoyed. by man, who wrapt.in sleep thinks only 
of preparing himself for the toils of the coming day. At one 
o'clock the animal creation returns to life, and the singing of 
various birds announces the approach of morn. A deep blush 
now spreads along the heavens, and shortly afterward the 
fiery orb of the sun shoots aloft, and gilds the mingled land- 
scape of mountain, lake, and forest, while the rolling mists 
of night slowly retreat at his presence. Tnus, during the fleet- 
ing months of a northern summer, the sun in the higher 
latitudes keeps circling constantly round the horizon, and 
darkness is unknown. To this unceasing day continued 
night however soon succeeds; the extreme of heat is followed 
by that of cold; and in the absence of the meridian sun, the 
moon, during two of her quarters, rises high in the heavens, 
never setting; while the increasing brillianey of the con- 
stellations, and the darting: fires of the Aurora’ Borealis, 
rushing through the firmament, light up the skies, and ecom- 
pensate the inhabitants of those frozen regions for-the.loss of 
the day.—Sir Arihur de Capelli Brookes Travels in 


Sweden, &c. 


rt 





*.* The Oifce of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
; 7 | 59, Lincoln’s-JInn Fields. 


o 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, PALL-MALL EAST. 





Printed by WinLt1amM CLOWES, Duke-street, Lambeth. 


Monthly Supplement of 


THE PENNY MAGAZ INE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


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A phke 4 
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250 


On a hill which is somewhat precipitous to the north, but 


is of gentle ascent in other directions, stands the Castle of 


Windsor, situated in Berkshire, about twenty-two miles 
from London: “ It enjoyeth,” says our old Hnglish 
toposrapher Camden, “ a most delightful prospect round 


about ; for right in the front it overlooketh a vale, lying: 


out far and wide, garnished with corn-fields, flourishing 
with meadows, decked with groves on either side, and 
watered with the most mild and calm river Thames: 
behind it-arise hills every where, neither rough nor ‘over 
hich, attired as it were with woods, and even dedicated 
as-it were by nature to hunting and ganie.” ‘The mag- 
nificent castle which crowns this emmence is associated 
with some of the most interesting events and persons 
in the history of our country. It has witnessed all the 
pomp ofchivalry, and its courts have rang with the feasts 
and tournaments of the Edwards and Henries. Kings 
were boru here,—and here they are buried; and after 
every change of fashion and opinions, it is still the 
proudest residence of the sovereign of England, as it 
was seven cellturies ago. The parliament, within these 
few years, has thought fit to bestow very large sums 
upon the complete repair of this castle; and we can 
not think the amount ill bestowed, for the ancient recol- 
lections of a people are amongst its best possessions. 

There is scarcely a point within a few miles distance 
where the Castle of Windsor is not seen to great advan- 
tare. ‘To the traveller upon the Bath road it presents 
its bold northern front, which comprises the longest 
coutinuous range of its buildings. On the road to 
Windsor, by Datchet, the eastern front, with its four 
orand towers, appears of itself to exceed most other 
edifices in magnitude. To the great Park the southern 
front is displayed; and when this part is viewed from 
the extremity of the fine avenue called the Long Walk 
nothing can appear more stately. In every situation the 
Round Tower rises above the other buildings, and arrests 
the eye by its surpassing dimensions. Burke has well 
characterized it as “the proud keep of Windsor.” Sir 
John Denham, in his poein of Cooper's Hill (an emi- 
nence overlooking Runnemede), describes the inajestic 
appearance of Windsor in the quaint and exaggerated 
tone of the poetry of his day :— 

“ Such seems thy gentle height, made only proud 
To be the basis of that pompous load, 


Than which a nobler weight no mountain bears 
But Atlas only which supports the spheres.” 


The visitor to Windsor, upon turning up the street 
(Castle Street) which leads to the Castle, will have the 
south front presented to him as it is represented in the 
wood-cut at p. 252, numbered 2. The improvements 
that have been made in this part within the last few 
years are most striking. ‘The road now leads boldly 
up to the Castle; and the observer looks without inter- 
ruption upon the rich woods of the adjacent parks. A 
very short time ago a number of contemptible buildings 
were scattered about the Castle; and even the superb 
avenue, the Long Walk, was deprived of its natural object 
—(the object doubtless for which it was planted)—that 
of forming a road to the principal entrance to the Castle, 
by the avenue and the entrance being crossed by a large 
plastered house and offices called the Queen’s Lodge. 
All these excrescences have been judiciously removed. 

The southern entrances to the Castle are reserved for 
private use. The visitor will approach it through what 
is called the Lower Ward. He enters into this ward by 
a noble gateway, with two towers, built by Henry VIII. 
The first object which arrests his attention, is the Chapel 
of St. George—a building unrivalled in England or in 
Europe, as a perfect specimen of that richly ornamented 
Gothic architecture, which prevailed in tue latter end of 
the 15th century and the beginning of the 1léth. This 
is represented in the wood-cut at p. 253, numbered 5. 
Immediately to the east of this fine chapel is an ecclesi- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[JuNE 30, 


astical building of later erection, called Wolsey’s Tomb- 
house; which is now used as the dormitory of the Royal 
Family. The buildings opposite St. George's Chapel are 
the residences of the decayed military officets, called the 
Poor Knights of Windsor. The bold tower which termi- 
nates this row of buildings, as well as the opposite tower 
called the Winchester, (from its being-the residence of 
William of Wykeham, Bishop of. Winchester: the archi- 
tect of the castle,) are the best preserved, without much 
changé, of the more ancient parts of the whole fabric. 
On the right as he proceeds, the visitor looks down ovey 
a low battlemented wall, upon what was once the moat 
of the Round Tower. It appears to have been in part 
a garden, as lone since as the time of James I. of 
Scotland, who was detained here for some time, and has 
celebrated this solace of his iinprisonmeut in one of his 
poems*. The tower itself rises in stern grandeur out of 
this depth. The mound upon which it is built is no 
doubt artificial. This immense tower has been consi- 
derably elevated within a few years, in common with 
many other parts of the Castle. 4 
Proceeding through a gateway of two towers, whose 
low portal indicates its antiquity and its employment for 
defence, the visitor finds himself within the magnificent 
quadrangle of the palace. On the north are the state 
apartments, in which is included the celebrated Hall of 
St. George :—on the east and south the private apart- 
ments of the King and his Court. ‘The state apartments 
are exhibited to strangers, as we shall more particularly 
mention. Nothmge can be more imposing than the 
weneral effect of this quadrangle. Every part is now of 
a uniform character. We look in vain for the narrow 
grated windows and pierced battlements of the times 
of feudal strife, when convenience was sacrificed to secu- 
rity. ‘These characteristics of a martial age were swept 
away by Charles [I., who substituted the architectural 
style of the age of Louis XIV. than which nothing could 
have been in worse taste. In the recent alterations of 
the Castle, the architect has most judiciously preserved the 
best characteristics of old English domestic architecture. 
The wood-cut in p. 252, numbered 3, may give some 
notion of the richness and grandeur of this quadrangle. 
Returning a short distance, the entrance to the terrace 
presents itself to the visitor. After descending a flight of 
steps, the scene is totally changed. A prospect, unri- 
valled in extent and beauty, bursts upon the sight. Few 
persons can look upon this scene without emotion. ‘The 
eye delichtedly wanders over the various features of this 
remarkable landscape. It traces the Thames gliding 
tranquilly and brilliantly along, through green and 
shadowy banks—sometimes presenting a broad surface, 
and sometimes escaping from observation in its sudden 
and capricious windings ;—it ranges as far as the distant 
hills—it counts the numerous turrets and spires of the 
neighbouring villages—or it reposes upon the antique 
grandeur of Eton College. Gray has beautifully de- 
scribed this inagnificent prospect in well-known lines :— 
“ From the stately brow 
Of Windsor’s heights th’ expanse below 
Of grove, of lawn, of mcad survey, 
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers amoug 
Wanders the hoary Thames along 
His silver windimg way.” 
The north side of the terrace is constantly open to the pub- 
lic; and this is by far the finest part. ‘To the eastern side, 
admittance is only granted on Saturdays and Sundays. 
At the north-east angle of the terrace, the northern front 
of the Castle is exhibited as shown in the wood-cut at 
p. 253, numbered 4. | 
The earliest history of Windsor Castle, like that of 
many other ancient buildings, is involved in some cb- 
scurity. It is doubtful whether in the time of William 
the Conqueror, and of his son Rufus, it was used as a 


*« A notice of this interesting personage will be found at the end 
of this article. 





1833.] 


residence; but it was certainly then a military post. At 
Old Windsor, a village about a mile and a half from the 
present castle, there was a Saxon palace, which was 
occasionally inhabited by the kings of England. Henry I. 
held his court there in 1105 and 1107; but having en- 
larged the adjacent castle with ‘“* many fair buildings,”’ 
he, according to the Saxon Chronicle, kept the festival 
of Whitsuntide there in 1110. In the time of Stephen, 
the Castle, according to Holingshed’s Chronicle, was 
esteemed the second fortress in the kingdom. Henry II. 
and his son held two parliaments there. Upon the 
news of his brother Richard's imprisonment in the Holy 
Land, John took possession of the Castle; and after 
his accession to the throne remained there, as a place of 
security, during his contests with the barons. Holing- 
shed says, that the barons, having refused to obey the 
summons of the King to attend him in his own castle, 
he gave them the meeting at Runnemede, which ended 
in the signature of Magna Charta. The fortress sus- 
tained seyeral changes of masters during the wars 
between the Crown and the Nobility, which broke out 
again in the reien of John, and of Henry i1f. Windsor 
Castle was the favourite place of residence of Edward I. 
and ii.; and here Hdward Il]. was born. During the 
long reign of this monarch, the Castle, according to its 
present magnificent plan, was commenced, and in great 
part completed. ‘The history of the building furnishes, 
in many respects, a curious picture of the manners of 
the feudal ages. 

At « period when no man’s possessions were thoroughly 
assured to him by equal laws,—when the internal peace 
of kingdoms was distracted by the pretensions of rival 
claimants to sovereignty,—and when foreign wars were 
uldertaken, not for the assertion of national honour or 
the preservation of national safety, but at the arbitrary 
will of each warlike holder of a throne, personal valour 
was considered the lighest ment; and the great were 
esteemed, not for their intellectual acquirements and their 
moral virtues, but for their eallantry in the tournament 
and their ferocity in the batt'e-field. Amongst the legends 
of the old chroniclers and romance-writers (and there 
was originally small difference in the two characters), 
the most favourite was the story of King Arthur and 
his Knights of the Round Table. Froissart, the most 
amusing of chroniclers, says, that Windsor was the seat 
of the solemnities of the Round Table, in the sixth cen- 
tury: and later historians affirm that Edward III. in 
a solemn just (tournament), held at Windsor in the 
eivhteenth year of his reion, revived the institution. 
Walsingham, the historian, states, that upon this occa- 
sion Edward built a round chamber, two hundred feet 
in diameter, for the deliberations and festivals of the 
companions in arms that he gathered about him. ‘This 
strange house was itself called the Round Table. It is 
probable that it was a temporary structure ; for, within a 
short time after, various commissions for appointing sur- 
veyors and impressing workmen were issued; and in 
1356, William of Wykeham, then one of the king’s chap- 
Jains, Was appointed architect of the various buildings 
which Edward's taste for magnificent display had pro- 
jected. In one year three hundred and sixty workmen 
were impressed, to be employed at the king’s wages. 
Some of them haying secretly left Windsor to engage in 
other employments for greater wages, writs were issued 
for their committal to prison, and to prohibit all persons 
from engaging them under severe penalties. ‘Such were 
the modes in which the freedom of industry was violated, 
before the principles of commercial intercourse were 
fairly established. Had workinen been at liberty to en- 
gage with whom they pleased there would have been no 
want of workmen for the completion of Windsor Castle, 
or any other public or private undertaking. ‘The capital 
to be applied to the payment of wages, and the workmen 
secking the capital, would have been equally balanced. 
Jmpressments of various artificers appear to have gone 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. on] 


on for the same object, till the year 1373 ; after which 
there are no records of more commissions being issued. 
It is probable, therefore, that this immense work was 
completed, as far as Edward III. had contemplated, in 
about seventeen years from its commencement. Before 
it had been begun, Edward had founded the Order of 
the Garter; and during its progress, and after its com- 
pletion, the festivals of this institution were celebrated at 
Windsor with every pomp of regal state. MKnights- 
strangers were several times invited from all parts of 
the world, with letters of safe-conduct to pass and repass 
the realm; and one of these festivals is particularly 
described by the chroniclers as exceeding all others in 
splendour, which was given in honour of John, King of 
France, who was then a prisoner at Windsor. John, who 
appears to have been a shrewd observer, is recorded to lave 
said, that he never knew such royal shows and feastings, 
without some after-reckoning for gold and silver. 

Edward III. erected at Windsor a chapel dedicated to 
St. George, for the especial service of the Order of the 
Garter; but the preseut beautiful chapel is of later date. 
It was begun by Edward IV., who found it necessary to 
take down the original fabric, on account of its decayed 
state. ‘Lhe work was iot completed till the beginning 
of the reign of Henry VITT. So beautiful a monument 
of architectural skill could not have been hurried forward 
as the ruder buildings of the Castle were. 

With the exception of occasional high pageantries on 
the festival of St. George, Windsor Castle does not 
appear to have been the scene of many public solemnities 
after the reign of its chivalrous founder. Richard IL, 
however, heard here the appeal of high treason brought 
by the Duke of Lancaster against the Duke of Norfolk. 
3ut it was often the favourite country residence of our 
kings; several of whom, particularly Henry VII., con- 
tinued to make various additions and improvements. 
There is a curious poem by the. Earl of Surrey, who 
was confined in the Castle for violating the canons of 
the church, by eating flesh in Lent, which presents the 
best picture we have of the kind of life which the accom- 
plished gallants of the E¢nelish court led in our country 
palaces, at a period when refinement had not taken 
away the relish for siniple pleasures. He describes 


“The large green courts where we were wont to hove * 
With eyes cast up into the maiden’s tower ;” 


and he goes on to contrast his painful imprisonment 
with his former happiness amongst “the stately seats,”’ 
“the ladies bright,’ ‘ the dances short,’ ‘* the palm- 
playt, “the gravel-ground 1, ‘‘the secret groves,” and 
“the wild forest, 


“With cry of hounds, and merry biasts between, 
Where we did chase the fearful hart of force §.” 


There must have been somewhat of tediousness in 
such a life, for courtiers possessing fewer intellectual 
resources than Lord Surrey, before letters were gene- 
rally cultivated, and the manifold enjoyments of taste 
awakened; and it is probable that the uninstructed 
high-born engaged in state intrigues, or stirrecdl up use- 
less wars, as much for the desire cf excitement, as from 
less common motives. 

The age of Elizabeth brought with it a love of letters; 
and here “ the maiden-queen” occasionally retired from 
the cares of state, to dictate verses to her private secre- 
tary, or receive the flatteries of the accomplished Lei- 
cester. There is in the State-Paper Office an original 
manuscript translation of Horace’s Art of Poetry,’ com- 
posed by Elizabeth under such circumstances. ‘This 
queen built the north terrace, and a gallery, still called 
after her name, and retaining the peculiar style of the archi- 
tecture of her day. We have seen some original orders 
for various repairs of the Castle, whicli show how little 

“ Loiter. + Fives. |. For tournaments. 

§ Surrey’s Poem, which is very interesting as a specimen of 
English composition, is given in a subsequent page, ‘ 
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[5. St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. South Tront.| 


254 


private accommodation was regarded in these days of 
public pageantry. ‘The maids of honour requested to 
have the boarded partitions of their chambers carried up 
to the ceilings, as the pages could otherwise gaze in 
upon them, as they passed through the passages. ‘here 
can be no doubt that an English palace of the 15th and 
16th centuries had much fewer comforts than the most 
unpretendine dwelling of a tradesman of the present 
day. The furniture was scanty and cumbrous;_ the 
linen was exceedingly scarce; of porcelain there was 
none; of glass scarcely any. The floors were covered 
with dirty rushes; the doors had crazy fastenings. 
Henry VIII. carried a smith about with Inm, with 
padlock aud chain, to fasten “the door of his Highness’ 
chamber;” and the cost and qnality of the various ma- 
terials for a new gown which the same king presented 
to Anne Boleyn, are recorded with a minuteness and 
solemnity which the humblest servant-maid would now 
scorn to bestow upon her finest holiday suit *. 

Windsor Castle was garrisoned by the parliament 
during the great civil war of Charles 1.; and it was the 
last prison of that unfortunate monarch. Upon the 
restoration, Charles II. bestowed upon the Castle the 
doubtful honour of repairing it according to his foreign 
taste. We have no accurate records of what he de- 
stroyed; but the probability is, that in remodelling the 
interior he swept away some of the most valuable memo- 
rials that existed of the style of hving amongst his 
predecessors. St. George's Hall was covered with 
paintings by Verrio, as were the ceilings of all the other 
state apartments; and truly nothing can be more dis- 
gusting than the nauseous flattery and bad taste of these 
productions. Most of the miserable improvements, as 
they were called, of this king, have been swept away 
from the exterior of the Castle; and, in many particulars, 
from the interior. St. George's Hall is once more a 
Gothic room, such as the “invincible knights of old”’ 
might have feasted in. Charles IJ., however, carried 
the terrace round the east and south fronts. 

Queen Anne frequently resided at Windsor. In the 
reions of the first and second Georges, it was neglected. 
George II. dwelt for many years in a white-washed 
house at the foot of his own palace; till at length he 
determined to occupy the old Castle. ‘The apartments 
were little adapted to the notions of modern comfort, but 
the Royal amily continued to reside here till the ceath 
of the King. George LV. inhabited the Castle as it was, 
for a few monthsin 1823; but in 1824, its general decay 
and want of accommodation were brought under the 
notice of parliament. Commissioners were appointed for 
superintending the alterations, and a large sum was voted 
for the first outlay. Mr. Wyatville (mow Sir Jeffery) was 
appointed the architect; and from that time till the 
present, the works have been carried on with unremitting 
diligence. Little now remains for the completion of the 
architect’s noble desien. 

It does not fall within the object of this article to give 
any minute description of the interior of Windsor Castle. 
The apartments of the King and his Court are as nu- 
merous as they are splendid. Round the east and south 


sides of the quadrangle runs a corridor, forming a- 


magnificent gallery above, and connecting the various 
parts of the immense range of offices below. ‘The prin- 
cipal floor of this corridor is superbly furnished with 
pictures and statues. he chief apartments of the King 
and Queen are in the south-eastern tower, and the 
eastern front. The dining, drawing, and music rooms 
are of extraordinary dimensions, forming that fine suite 
Whose grand oriel windows look out upon the eastern 
terrace. ‘They are connected, at the north-eastern angle, 
with the state apartments, some of which, particularly 
St. George's Hall, are used on occasions of high festival. 

Lhe state apartments are exhibited daily to the public. 
several of them have been completely remodelled, under 


* Sce privy-purse expenses of Henry VIII, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[June 30, 


the parliamentary commission for the repairs of the 
Castle. The guard-room is now fitted np with great 
appropriateness: one of the most remarkable objects is 
a bust of Lord Nelson, having for its pedestal a portion 
of the mainmast of the Victory, his own ship, on the 
deck of which he gloriously fell. St. George's Hall, as 
we mentioned before, has been entirely purified from 
the productions of the false taste of the time of Charles IT. 
An adjoining chapel has been added to the original hall ; 
so that it is now an oblong room of vast length, with a 
range of tall pointed-arch windows Icoking upon the 
square. Its walls, panelled with dark oak, are huag 
vith the portraits of successive sovereigns of the Order 
of the Garter; and heraldic insignia of the ancient 
knights are borne on shields which surround the splendid 
room. Of the other new state apartments, the prin- 
cipal are the ball-room, glittering with burnished gold ; 
and the Waterloo gallery, in which are hung the fine 
series of portraits painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, of 
the princes, warriors, and statesmen, who were :instru- 
mental in forwarding that great victory. 

The remaining state apartments are pretty much in 
the same condition as they exhibited during the reign of 
George III. ‘They present an assemblage of snch objects 
as are usually shown in our palaces and noble mansions. 
Here are state beds, whose faded hangings have’ been 
carefully preserved from periods when silk and velvet 
were the exclusive possessions of the high-born ; chairs 
of ebony, whose weight compelled the sitter to remain 
in the place of. the seat; and tables of silver, fine to 
look upon, but worthless to use. Here are also the 
eaudy ceilings of Verrio, where Charles II. and _ his 
Queen are humbly waited upon by Jupiter and Neptune; 
and the profligate who sold his country to Louis XIV. 
for a paltry bribe, and degraded the English court by 
every vice, is represented as the pacificator of Europe, 
and the restorer of religion. But there are better things 
to be seen than these in the state apartments. ‘There 
are many pictures of great beauty, and several of tran 
scendent excellence. Here is the celebrated ‘“ Misers” 
of Quentin Matsys, painted, as it is said, by a blacksmith 
of Antwerp, asa proof of his pretensions to aspire to 
marry the daughter of a painter of the same place. The 
blacksmith, however, was no mean artist in other lines: 
for he is said to have executed the iron tomb of Edward 
IV. in St. George’s Chapel—a most remarkable speci- 
men of elaborate ingenuity. Here is the ‘ Titian and 
Aretin,” one of the finest specimens of the great master 
of the Venetian school; the ‘‘ Death of Cleopatra,” 
and the ‘ Venus attired by the Graces,” of Guido; the 
“ Charles I. and the Duke of Hamilton,” and “ the 
Family of Charles I.,” of Vandyck ; and “ the Silence ” of 
Annibal Caracci. ‘These are paintings, with many others 
that we cannot afford space to mention, which the best 
judges of art may come from the ends of Europe to gaze 
upon. ‘Those who are captivated by gandy colours, ap- 
plied to the representation of meretricious charms, may 
gaze upon “ the Beauties of the Court of Charles LI.” 

The Round Tower is also exhibited to the public. 
There is nothing very remarkable in the apartments, 
except in the Armoury, where there are some curious 
specimens of the cumbrous fire-arms that were carried by 
the infantry in the early days of gunpowder warfare, 
when matches held the place of flints, and the charge of 
powder was borne in little wooden boxes, hung about the 
shoulders. Here are two suits of mail, said to have 
belonged to John King of France, and David Kine of 
Scotland, who were prisoners in this tower. ‘The legend 
is appropriate, but not trustworthy. : 

Lhe object at Windsor which is most deserving the 
lingering gaze of the stranger, and which loses none of 
its charms after the acquaintance of years, is St. George’s 
Chapel. ‘The exquisite proportions, and the rich yet 
solemn ornaments of the interior of this unrivalled edi- 
fice, leave an effect upon the mind which cannot be de- 


1833.] 


‘seribed. The broad glare of day displays the admirable 
fittishing of. its various parts, as elaborate as the joinery 
work of a cabinet, and yct harmonising in one massive 
and simple whole. ‘The calm twilight does not abate 
the splendour of this building; while it adds to its 
solemnity; for then : 
“ The storied window, richly dight,” 

catthes the last rays of the setting sun; and as the 
cathedral chaunt steals over the senses, the genius of the 
place compels the coldest heart to be devout in a temple 
of such perfect beauty. ‘The richly decorated roof, sup- 
ported on clustered columns, which spread on each side 
like the branches of a grove—the painted windows, repre- 
senting in glowing colours soine remarkable subjects of 
Christian history—the banners and escutcheons of the 
Koughts of the Garter, littering in the choir above their 
carved stalls, within which are affixed the armorial bear- 
ings of each Knight Companion from the time of the 
founder, Edward IIf.;—all these objects are full of 
interest, and powerfully seize upon the imagination. 
Though this building and its decorations are pre-emi- 
nently beautiful, it is perfectly of a devotional character ; 
and if any thing were wanting to carry the thoughts 
above the earth, the observer must feel the vanity of all 
greatness and all honour, save the true and imperishable 
glory of virtue, when he here treads upon the craves 
of Edward IV. and Henry VI., of Henry VITE. and 
Charles I., and remeinbers that, distinguished as these 
monarchs were for contrasts of good and evil fortune, the 
pride and the humility, the triumphs and the degradations, 
of the one and the other, are blended in the grave— 


“ Together meet th’ oppressor and th’ oppress’d ” 


and they are now judged, as they wanted or exhibited 
those Christian excellencies which the humblest amongst 
us may attain. We shall not attempt any description 
of the various parts of this chapel. The wood-cut in 
the front of this number exhibits the interior of the choir. 

There are not many monuments possessing merit as 
works of art in St. George’s Chapel. The cenotaph of 
Princess Charlotte is a performance of some excellence in 
particular figures; but as a whole it is in vicious taste. 
Edward IV. is buried here, beneath the steel tomb of 
Quentin Matsys; his unhappy rival Henry VI. lies in the 
opposite aisle, under a plain marble stone. Henry VIII. 
and Charles I. are entombed under the choir, without 
any memorial. At the foot of the altar is a subterranean 
passage commuuicating with the tomb-house, in which 
is the cemetery of the present race of kings, 


The Round Tower, the ancicnt Keep of the Castle, is 
famous in the romance of history as the prison for many 
years of King James I. of Scotland, a true as well as a 
royal poet. ‘Phe youth of this prince was passed in the 
Castle of St. Andrews, under the care of one of the 

nest spirits of that age, Bishop Henry Wardlaw, who 
founded the oldest university of Scotland. In 1405, 
when James had reached the age of fourteen, being then, 
by the death of his elder brother, David, Duke of Roth- 
say, the heir to the crown, it was determined to send 
‘him for greater security to the court of France. On 
his voyage, however, although a truce then subsisted 
between England and Scotland, he was seized near 
Flamborough Head by the ships of Henry IV., and 
carried with all his attendants to London. He remained 
in captivity during all the reign of that King, and also 
throughout that of his successor, although he had 
become King of Scotland by the death of his father, 
Robert Fil., who died of a broken heart, about a year 
after thus losing his only remaining son. During this 
proionged detention, James, although treated with the 
show of respect appertaining to his rank, appears to 
have been, for a considerable time at least, held in 
strict durance. He was coufined for two years in the 
Tower of London ; but Windsor, according to tradition, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| 


293 


was the place in which his ycars of captivity were 


mostly spent. ‘his at least is the spot upon which his 
love und genius have left their immortal light. It was 
while imprisoned here that, looking from his high 
window in the keep, he first beheld walkine in the 
P=) 

garden below, the Lady Jane Beaufort, the erand- 
daughter of John of Gaunt, and cousequcntly a near 
relation of the royal house. This lady, who was a 
person of distinguished beauty, made an immediate im- 
pression on the heart of the captive prince. He has 
himself related the story of his passion in his poem 
called the King’s Quhair, (that is, the King’s Quire or 
Book,) which he appears to have composed aficr he 
returned to his native country, and which is not only the 
eldest production of the Scottish muse, but by far the 
noblest poetical work of which our language has to boast 
for at least a century and a half after the death of 
Chaucer. In melody of verse, indeed, tenderness of sen- 
timent, and picturesque description, it betokens through- 
out the worthy pupil and follower of that great master, 

James was at last liberated, in the beginning of the ycar 
1424, by Henry VI, on condition of his subjects under- 
taking to pay a suin of £40,000, which, oddly enough, 
was not demanded as his ransom, but as compensation 
for the expense of his maintenance, at the rate of £2000 
a year for the nincteen years of his detention. Before 
leaving England, he married the lady who had won his 
heart before he could offer her his hand, and she accom- 
panied lim to Scotland to share his throne. The latter 
portion of Ins life was almost as strangely variegated as 
his earlier years had been by the contrasting colours of 
romance. ‘Ihe light burned brightly for a short’ space, 
and was then quenched in blood. “ He found,’’ says 
Mr. Washington Irving, who has devoted a paper in 
his Sketch Book to this interesting royal bard, “ his 
kingdom in great confusion, the feudal chieftains 
having taken advantage of the troubles and _irregu- 
larities of a long interregnum to strengthen them- 
selves in thcir possessions, and place themselves above 
the power of the laws. James sought to found the basis 
of his power in the affections of his people. He attached 
the lower orders to him by the reformation of abuses, 
the temperate and equable administration of justice, the 
encouragement of the arts of peace, and the promotion 
of every thing that could diffuse comfort, competency, 
and innocent enjoyment through the humblest ranks of 
socicty. He mingled occasionally among the common 
people, in disguise ; visited their fire-sides; entered into 
their cares, their pursuits, and their amuseinents ; in- 
formed himself of the mechanical arts, and how they 
could best be patronised and improved; and was thus 
an all-pervading spirit, watching with a benevolent eye 
over the meanest of his subjects. Having in this gene- 
rous manner made himself strone in the hearts of the 
common people, he turned himself to curb the power of 
the factious nobility ; to strip them of those dangerous 
immunities which they had usurped ; to punish such as 
had been guilty of flagrant offences; and to bring the 
whole into proper obedience to the crown. For some 
time they bore this with outward submission, but secret 
impatience and brooding resentment. A conspiracy was 
at length formed against his life, at the head of which 
was his own uncle, Robert Stewart, Karl of Athol, who, 
being too old himself for the perpetration of the deed of 
blood, instigated his grandson, Sir Robert Stewart, Sir 
Robert Graham, and others of less note, to commit 
the deed. ‘They broke into his bed-chamber, at the 
Dominician Convent, near Perth, where he was residing, 
and barbarously murdered him by oft-repeated wounds. 
His faithful Queen, rushing to throw her tender body 
between him and the sword, was twice wounded in the 
ineffectual attempt to shield him froin the assassin, and 
it was not until she had been forcibly torn from his 
person, that the murder was accomplished. 

“ It was the recollection of this romantic tale of former 


296 


times, and of the golden little poem which had its birth- 
place in this Tower, that made me visit the old pile with 
more than common interest. ‘The suit of armour hang- 
ing up in the hall, richly gilt and embellished, as if to 
figure in the tournay, brought the image of the galiant 
and romantic prince vividly before my imagination. I 
paced the deserted chambers where he had composed 
his poem; I leaned upon the window, and endeavoured 
to persuade myself it was the very one where he had 
been visited by his vision; I looked out upon the spot 
where he had first seen the Lady Jane. It was the 
same genial and joyous month; the birds were again 
vying with each other in strains of liquid melody ; every 
thine was bursting into vegetation, and budding forth 
the tender promise of the year. Time, which delights 
to obliterate the sterner memorials of human pride, seems 
to have passed lightly over this little scene of poetry 
and love, and to have withheld his desolating hand. 
Several centuries have gone by, yet the garden still 
flourishes at the foot of the tower. It occupies what 
was once the moat of the keep; and though some parts 
have been separated by dividing walls, yet others have 
still their arbours and shaded walks, as in the days of 
Jaines, and the whole is sheltered, blooming, and retired. 
There is a charm about a spot that has been printed by 
the footsteps of departed beauty, and consecrated hy thre 
iuspirations of the poet, which is heightened, rather than 
impaired, by the lapse of ages. It is, indeed, the eiit 
of poetry to hallow every place in which it moves; to 
breathe round nature an odour more exquisite than the 
perfume of the rose, and to shed over it a tint more 
magical than the blush of morning. 

‘“ Others may dwell on the illustrious deeds of James, 
as «a warrior alld a legislator; but I have delichted to 
view him merely as the companion of his fellow men, 
the benefactor of the human heart, stooping from his 
high estate to sow the sweet flowers of poetry and song 
in the paths of common life. He was the first to culti- 
vate the vigorous and hardy plant of Scottish genius, 
which has since become so prolific of the most whole- 
some and highly flavoured fruit. He carried with him 
into the sterner regions of the north, all the fertilizing 
arts of southern refinement. He did every thing in his 
power to win his countrymen to the gay, the elegant, 
and gentle arts, which soften and refine the character of 
a people, and wreath a grace round the loftiness of a 
proud and warhke spirit. He wrote many poems, which, 
unfortunately for the fulness of his fame, are now lost to 
the world; one which is still preserved, called ‘ Christ's 
Kirk of the Green,’ shows how diligently he had made 
himself acquainted with the rustic sports and pastimes, 
which constitute such a source of kind and social feeling 
among the Scottish peasantry ; and with what simple 
and happy humour he could enter into their enjoyments. 
He contributed greatly to. improve the national music ; 
aud traces of his tender sentiment, and elegant taste, 
are said to exist in those witching airs still piped among 
the wild mountains and lonely glens of Scotland. He 
has thus connected his image with whatever is most 
gracious and endearing in the national character; he 
has embalmed his memory in song, and floated his 
hame to after-ages in the rich stream of Scottish melody. 
The recollection of these things was kindling at my 
heart, as I paced the silent scene of his imprisonment. 
i have visited Vaucluse with as much enthusiasm as a 
puzrim:would visit the shrine at Loretto; but: I have 
never felt more poetical devotion than when contem- 
plating the old tower and the little garden at Windsor, 
ud musing over the romantic loves of the Lady Jane 


and the Royal Poet of Scotland.” 


‘The poem by the Earl of Surrey, to which we have 
alluded in page 251, as a remarkable specimen of the 
English poetry of the 16th century, was originally printed 
in a simall volume, entitled ‘Songs and Sonnettes of 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


La i 


apartments, &c. 


[June 30, 1833. 


Henry Earle of Surrey, in 1557. Lord Surrey was 
born about 1515, and was beheaded on a vague charge 


of high treason in 1547. 


So cruel prison, how coulde betyde, alas, 
As proude Windsor! where I, in lust and joy, 
With a kinges sonne my childishe yeres did passe, 
In greater feast than Priam’s sonnes of Troye. 


Where eche swete place returnes a taste full sower, 

The large grene courtes where we were wont to hove* _ 
With eyes cast up into the mayden’s tower, 

And easie sighes, such as men draw in love: 


The statelie seates, the ladies bright of huve, 
The daunces shorte, long tales of great dehght, 
With wordes and lookes, that tygers could but ruve, 
Where ech of us did pleade the other’s right. 


The palme-play +, where, dispoyled for the game f{ 
: | With dazed yies, oft we by gleams of love 
Have mist the bell, and got sight of our dame, 
To bate her eyes which kept the leads above. 


The gravel ground, with sleves tied on the helme, 
On fomyng horse, with swordes and frendly hartes, 
With cheare§ as though one should another whelme, 
Where we have fought and chased oft with dartes. 


The secret groves, which oft we made resounde, 
Of pleasant playnt, and of our ladies praise, 
tecording ofte what grace ech one had founde, 
What hope of speede, what drede of long delayes. 


The wilde forest, the clothed holtes|] with grene, 
With raynes avayled@, and swift ybreathed horse, 

With crie of houndes, and merry blasts betwene, 
Where we did chase the feartul harte of force. 


The wide vales** eke, that harbourd us ech night, 
Wherewith, alas, reviveth in my brest 

The swete accord! Such slepes as yet dehght : 
The pleasant dreames, the qmet bed of rest. 


The secret thoughts imparted with snech trust ; 
The wanton talke, the divers change of play ; 

The frendship sworne, ech promise kept so just, 
Wherewith we past the winter night away. 


And with this thought the bloud forsakes the face ; 
The tears berayne my cheeks of deadly huve, 

The which as sone as sobbing sighs, alas, 
Upsupped have, thus I my plaint renuve! 


“ Qh place of blisse, renuver of my woes ! . 
“ Give me aecompt, where 1s my noble fere ¢#, 
Whom in thy walles thou dost ech mght enclose 

“ To others leefe, but unto me most dere!” 


Eccho, alas, that doth my sorrow rew, 
Returnes thereto a hollow sound of playnte, 
Thus I alone, where all my freedom grew, 
In prison pine with bondage and restrainte : 
And with remembrance of the greater gnefe, 
‘Yo banish th’ lesse, I find my chief rehefe. 
* To hove, to loiter in expectation. So Chancer, Troil. Cress., 
book v. ver. 33. , 
¢ At ball. { Rendered unfit or unable to play. 
Looks. || Thick woods. @ With loosened reins. 
*«* Probably the true reading is wades or wadis; that is, lodging 
+t Companion. 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


8.1 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Jury 6, 1833. 





THE TALIPOT TREE OF CEYLON. 


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THERE are few objects in the vegetable kingdom more 
remarkable and beautiful, or more useful to. man, ‘than 
the Talipot-tree, which is a speciés of palm (the corypha 


umbraculifera of “Linnaus) ‘peciiliar to the ‘Island of 
Ceylon, and the Malabar coast *.. Robert’ Knox ‘says 


that it is as bie and as tall asa ship’s mast, but Cordiner 
gives more definite dimensions by stating that one which 
he measured was a hundred feet ‘high and five feet’ in 
circumference near the ground. The. stem of this tree 
is perfecily straight; it eradually diminishes as it ascends, 
the circumference of the upper part being abovt half 
that of the base: it is strong enough to resist the most 
violent tropical winds. It has no branches, and the 
leaves only spring from its summit. These leaves, which 
when on the tree are almost circular, are of such pro- 
digious diameter that they can shelter ten or a dozen 
(Knox says from fifteen to twenty) men, standing neat 
to each other. The flower of the treé which’ shoots 
above the leaves is at first a cluster of bright yellow 
blossoms, exceedingly beautiful to the eye, but emitting 
an odour too strong and pungent to be agreeable. 


o> 
Before its development the flower is enclosed in a hard 


* It is said to be found also in the Marquesas and Friendly 
Islands. | 


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“ ail [(Talipot Palms in different stages of growth. ] 


rind, which rind, upon the expansion of the flower, bursts 
with a sharp noise. The flower shoots pyramidically to 
a great height, frequently adding as much as thirty feet 
to the elevation of the tree. From the flower proceed 
the fruit or seeds, which are as large as our cherries, 
and exceedingly numerous,. but not eatable: they are 
only useful as seeds to reproduce and multiply the tree. 
It appears that the natives do not sow them, but leave 
that operation entirely to nature. .The flower and the 
fruit only appear once on‘one tree: Their appearance 
betoken that the tree’ has -attained to old age, which, 
according to the natives, it does in.a hundred years : 
Ribeyro, a Portuguese writer, says, in about thirty years, 
which is more likely to be correct. As’ soon as the fruit 
or seeds are ripe, the tree dries up and decays so rapidly 
that in two or three weeks it is seen prostrate and rotting 
on the vround, Knox asserts, that if the tree be cut 
down before’ it runs to seed, the pith, largely contained 
within the stem, is nutritious and wholesome, and adds 
that the natives take this pith, “ and beat it in mortars 
to flower, and bake cakes of it, which taste much like 
to wheat bread, and ‘it serves them instead of corn before 
their harvest be ripe.” We have not found these cakes 


| mentioned by any other writer on Ceylon; but as Knox 


eyelid 


——_ 
a 


258 


was sO Veracious ana correct, we may admit that the 
natives were accustomed to make them. A better known 
fact about the uses of the inner parts of the tree is that 
saro is made from them. The stem or trunk of the 
talipot, like that of most other palms, is extremely hard 
without, but soft and spongy within, the greater part of 
its diameter being a soft brownish cellular substance. 
The: sago is made by beating the spongy part of the 
stem in a mortar, by which means the fecula is procured. 
Still, however, the great usefulness of the tree is in its 
leaves. Growing on the tree, these leaves when ex- 
panded, are of a beautiful dark green colour; but those 
chiefly used are cut before they spread out, and have, 
and retain for ages, a pale brownish yellow colour, not 
unlike old parchment. Their preparation for use is 
very simple: they are rubbed with hard, smooth pieces 
of wood, which express any humidity that may remain, 
and increase their. pliability, which is naturally very great. 
The structure of this wonderful leaf and the disposition 
of its fibres will be best understood by a glance at the 
engraving at tiie head of this article, in which the con- 
struction e* che leaves is shown, particularly by those in 
the righ.-hand corner. - : 

Our readers will there see that it is made precisely like 
a fan, and like a fan it can be closed or expanded, and 
with almost as little exertion. It is in fact used as a fan 
by-the natives of Ceylon, and is at the same time their 
only’ umbrella and parasol; in addition to which uses it 
forms their only tent when they are im the field, and, cut 
up into strips, it serves them to write upon instead of 
paper. . 

‘The leaf is.so light that an entire one can be carried in 
the hand; but as this, from its great size when expanded, 
would be inconvenient, the natives cut segments from it, 
which they use to defend themselves from the scorching 
rays of the sun, or from the rains. The narrow :part 
is carried foremost, the better to enable those who use 
them, to penetrate through the woods and thickets with 
which’ most of the country abounds. No handles are 
used, but the two ‘sides of the leaf are grasped by the 
bearer. “ This,” says Knox, in his quaint manner, ‘‘is a 
marvellous mercy which Almighty God hath bestowed 
upon:this poor and naked people in this rainy country |” 
He ought to have added, in ‘this hot country, for the 
heats of Ceylon, whose mean temperature is 81°, are 
frequently, and for long periods, tremendous, and the 
talipot-leaf is quite as valuable .as a protection against 
them as against rain. 

However much water may fall on the leaf it imbibes 
no humidity, remaining dry and light as ever. The 
British troops in their campaign in the jungles against 
the Cingalese in 1817 and 1818, found to their cost how 
excellent a preservative it was against wet and damp. 
The enemy's musket-men were furnished, each with a 
talipot-leaf, by means of which they always kept their 
arms aid powder perfectly dry and could fire upon the 
invading forces; whilst frequently the British muskets, 
which had no such protection, were rendered useless by 
the heavy rains, and the moisture of the woods and 
thickets, and our men consequently unable to return the 
fire of the uafives. 

As tents, the talipot-leaves are set up an end as de- 
scribed in the adventures of Robert Knox, No. 75, of our 
Magazine. Two or three talipot-umbrellas thus em- 
ployed make an excellent shelter, and from being so light 
and portable, each leaf folding up to the size of a man’s 
arm, they. are admirably adapted for this important 
service. The chiefs, moreover, have regularly formed 
square tents made of them. In these the leaves are 
neatiy sewed together and laid over a hi¢ht frame-work : 
the whole is light and can be packed up ina very small 
compass. | 

When.used in lieu of paper, they are, as we have men- 


tioned, cut into strips, (those which we have see are | 


THE PENNY: MAGAZINE. 


[Jury 6, 


about 15 inches long by 3 broad,) soaked for a short 
time in boiling water, rubbed backward and forward 
over a smooth piece of wood to make them pliable, and 
then carefully dried. The Cingalese write or engrave 
their letters upon them with a stylus, or pointed steel 
instrument, and then rub them over with a dark-coloured 
substance, which only remaining in the parts etched or 
scratched, gives the characters greater relief, and makes 
rendered liquid by being mixed with cocona-nut oil, and 
when dry is not easily effaced. On common occasions 
they write on the leaf of another species of palm-tree, 
but the talipot is used in all government despatches, 
important documents, such as title-deeds to estates, &c., 
and in their books. A Cingalese book is a bundle of 
these strips tied up together*™. As even the lawyers 
and the learned in this country are very deficient in 
chronological knowledge, great confusion occurs as to 
dates ; and it is very common to see a Cingalese judge 
attempting to ascertain the antiquity of a document 
produced in court ‘by smelling and cutting it. 

The oil employed in the writing imparts a strone 
odour which preserves it fsom insects, but this odour is 


changed by age. The talipot, however, appears to have 


in itself a natural quality which deters the attack of 
insects and preserves it from the decay of age even 


-without the oil. ‘It may be worth while observing that 


the Cingalese who engrave the most solemn of their 
deeds, such as the foundation of, or donations to a 
temple, on plates of fine copper, which are generally 
neatly edged with silver,:always make these plates of 
precisely the same shape as the talipot strips used for 
writing. 

Besides all the uses described, the Cingalese employ 
the talipot-leaf extensively in thatching their houses. 
They also manufacture hats from it; these hats ure 
made with brims as broad as an out-stretched umbrella, 
and are chiefly worn by women nursing, to defend them 


‘and their infants fromthe heat. 


The talipot is not a very common tree at present, and 
is rarely seen growing by those who only visit the coasts 
of the island and do not penetrate into the interior. It 
seems to grow, scattered among other trees, in the 
forests. In a view of the town of Kandy, as it was in 
1821, a fine specimen of the talipot, in flower, is seen 
close to a group of cocoa-nut trees. 


THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. 6. 
Iw treating of the labourers of such an extensive coun- 
try as France, it would be unreasonable to speak of 
thein as one class, There are great and material diffe- 
reuces of localities, of climate, and of habits, between 
populations placed at a distance of six or seven hundred 
miles from each other,—between the inhabitants of the 
coasts of the Mediterranean and those who live near the 
British Channel,—between those on the banks of the 
Rhine and those on the shores of the great Atlantic 
Ocean. Their respective wants, the produce of the soil, 
the wages of labour in each of their divisions, are essen- 
tially different. The great divisions of France may be 
considered to be, Ist. The north and north-eastern pro- 
viuces. 2d. ‘he central provinces. 3d. The southern 
provinces; and, 4th. ‘he western provinces. Again, we 
must not judge of the condition of French Jabourers, and 
French villagers, by those we meet on the high roads 
near Paris and other great cities; but we ought. to look 
at those in the interior, at a distance from the great 
markets and thoroughfares, and who, in a country where 
large towns are few and far between, constitute by much 
the great. majority of the whole population. We have 
endeavoured to extract the best information we could 
coHect from trustworthy authorities of the condition.of 
* Many of the books shown in Europe for the Egyptiaa papyrus, 
are ma‘le of the Jeaves of the taupot. 


1833.] 


the French labourers at three different epochs ; namely, 
Ist. Before the French revolution. 2d. Under Bona- 
partes government. 3d. Since the last peace, and up 
to the present time. 

The depression of French farmers and_ labourers 
before the revolution may be ascribed to two principal 
sources; Ist. The bad system of the tenure of the land. 
2d. ‘The weight and inequality of taxation.—The tenure 
of land was of four kinds: Ist. Small properties culti- 
vated by the owners, who were mostly, at the same 
time, in the condition of daily labourers. These, con- 
trary to the current supposition of people in our days, 
were very numerous even before the revolution. Mr. 
Arthur Young, who was intimately acquainted with the 
subject, states that one-third of the land in France was 
so divided. At the death of the owner these little pro- 
perties were subdivided, in some instances among all the 
sons, aud in other places among all the children, male 
and female. “ At last,” says Mr. Young, “ you find a 
family living, or rather starving, upon half an acre of 
ground, with one single fruit-tree standing upon it.” 
2d. Rent-farms, as in England, but generally of small 
size. ‘These were found chiefly in the northern provinces, 
and hardly extended over a sixth part of the kingdom. 
3d. Feudal tenures, granted by the lords of the ground, 
with the conditions of census, forfeiture, fines, services, &c. 
These were scattered all over the kingdom. 4th. Lands 
held by metayers, who gave the landlord one-half of the 
produce in kind, the latter furnishing the cattle and 
one-half of the seed, and the occupier providing the im- 
plements of agriculture. In some places the landloi‘d 
paid also one-half of the taxes. This mode of holding 
lands was by far the most prevalent. over the greater 
part of the kingdom, and as it continues to prevail to 
this day, in spite of all political and other changés, we 
shall have occasion to revert to it again hereafter. ‘There 
were also speculators (middle-men), who rented vast 
tracts of land, and then sub-let them ‘again in small 
portions to metayers, who gave them one-half of the 
produce. ‘The consequences of the metayer system are 
obvious—it rears up a population of paupers. The me- 
tayer, after paying one-half of the produce of his small 
farm, could hardly derive a bare subsistence for him- 
self and family. His implements were wretched, and 
sparingly provided. The repairs of buildings, the hedges, 
gates, palings, &c. were likewise neglected; the land 
deteriorated, there being little or no manure, owing to 
the deficiency of cattle‘on the farms. ‘The rotation of 
crops all over France was bad, consisting of alternate 
fallow and wheat crops, then fallow, and barley or 
oats ; no turnips, clover, or beans being interposed. Mr. 
Young, in a work in which he treats professedly-of the 
agriculture of France in his time*, gives the following 
list of prices of provisions and wages :—Average wages 
of journeymen in France 19 sols, masons and carpenters 
30 sols; at the same time labourers’ wages in England 
were ls. 44d., or 33 French sols. “Meat was then in 
France 7 sols. per lb., bread 2 sols. In England, at that 
lime, neat was 44d., equal to 84 sols; and bread 123d., 
equal to 33 sols. By taking the difference in the price of 
bread and meat conjointly between the two countries, it 
resulted that the English labourer’s wages compared to 
the French were as 25} to 19. 
price of bread alone is considered, then the wages were 
alike in both countries. But this would not have been a 
fair estimate ; for, besides meat being almost as essen- 
tial an article as bread, the French common bread in 
the country was always of a very inferior quality, being 
made with a Jarge proportion of rye and cther grains, 
for as to the price of wheat in both countries the diife- 
rence was trifling. Again, the English peasantry eat a 
considereble quantity of cheése and butter, ‘and -the 


* Young’s Travels in France in the Years 1787-89. 2 vols. 
Ato, ‘1794, , 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


If the difference in the. 


289 


French hardly any. There is even at this day a great 
scarcity of good cheese in France; there are but one or. 
two kinds of tolerable cheese made in the country, and 
those in small quantity, amd very dear. Roquefort 
cheese, which is the best, costs two franes the pound at 
Paris, 1s. 8a. English. The reason’of ihe dearness of 
good meat in France Mr. Youne ascribed to the want 
of artificial meadows: in winter sheep were ted almost 
entirely upon straw. “ The sheep,” says he, “ are ex- 
tremely lean; I have not seen a sheep in France that: 
would be called fat in England. Their mutton appears’ 
hardly eatable to an Englishman. Beef is very oood at 
Paris and in other large towns, where prime bullocks 
are sent from Liniousin or Normandy; but in the pro- 
vincial towns and villages old cows are slaughtered, and 
good beef is as scarce as good mutton.” ‘This was 
written in 1789, and things have somewhat mended 
since ; yet the leading features of Mr. Young’s remarks 
hold good in great measure to this day, as we shall 
hereafter see. . 

We now come to the second cause of agricultural 
depression in France before the revolution, namely, a 
bad system of taxation. ‘The taxes were of two sorts— 
direct and indirect. The former consisted chiefly of 
two heads, tailles and capitation. 2 

The ¢éaille was of two sorts, real and personal. The 
real taille was ‘a Jand-tax at so much per acre. ‘The per- 
sonal taille was assessed on the personal estate of each 
individual, that is to say, his money, rental, houses, 
profession, t7dustry, or either of these. The manner 
in which it was levied was very arbitrary. Every year 
the king in council détermined the amount of tax to-be 
raised from the whole kingdom. This was then divided 
among the different provinces, each intendant or king’s 
lieutenant assessing the different districts within his pro- 
vince for their respective shares; and lastly, the elders 
of ‘each parish, in presence of the justice and syndic, 
taxed each individual for his quota. No appeal was 
allowed. In a curious old pamphlet, called ‘ A compen: 
dious History of the Taxes in France,’ printed in 1694, 
during the reign of Lewis XIV., we find the following 
particulars :—“ The great evil of the taille is the unequal 
manner in which people are assessed by the authorities 
and by the collectors, who favour their own friends to 
the detriment of the rest. Industry is taxed, so are 
talent, exertion, and success. Every improvement a 
farmer makes on his ground exposes him to a heavier 
taille. «A poor cobbler or other artizan, who has nothing 
in the world but his labour, is assessed four or five crowns 
a-year. A baker at Gonesse, near Paris, who has not an 
inch of land, is assessed for his personal estate 1,200 
French crowns.” ‘The personal taille was not paid by 
either the nobility or clergy ; but the real taille or land-tax 
was levied on all estates which were not holden by feudal 
tenure. ‘The clergy, however, paid what was called a 
free gifé to the crown, which was voted at fixed periods 
in their own assembly, and to which all incuinbents con- 
tributed their share. There was also a sort of capitation 
tax on the clergy cailed the general tenth, levied on all 
except the mendicant friars who had no property. 

The early division of the old French monarchy was in 
two great parts, Langue doc, or south; and Langete @’ oil, 
or north. The latter paid personal taille, while tlie 
former paid only the real taille. Burgundy and Britanny, 
although northern provinces, did not form part of the 
Langue d’oil: having for a long time constituted inde- 
pendent duchies, they had preserved their own states or 
parliaments, ‘These provinces, as well as Languedoe and 
Provence, were therefore called pays d’ elats, while the rest 
were called pays d’election, or without states, whose in- 
habitants were taxed by the will of the goverzment, and 
assessed by their e/ws, or notables. In the former pro- 
vinces the states were asked by the king for a certain 
grent, and they ordered the assessment: the nobility, 

2L2 


260 THE PENNY 


clergy, and swordsmen paid according to the value of the 
land they were in possession of; merchants, artificers, 
and tradesmen, were assessed according to their station. 
But day-labourers and other poor persons were not 
liable to personal taille, aud this was a great advantage 
they had over those in the rest of France. The pays 
d'etats, however, paid every two years what was called a 
free gift for the preservation of their privileges, for which 
purpose all the inhabitants in general were taxed. ‘The 
conquered provinces, Alsace, Lorraine, Flanders, Franche 
Comt¢, and Rousillon enjoyed the same privilege as the 
state countries. : 

The capitation tax was levied upon every individual, 
without exception of rank, from the dauphin to the 
poorest labourer. 

There were numerous taxes on consumption, such as 
aides, or excise duties, upon wine and spirits, levied first 
jn the cellar, on the cask, and afterwards on the retailer, 
amounting to double the original value. There was 
besides, and there is still, a general octrot, or barrier 
duty, on every article of provision brought into Paris and 
other cities.- In Lewis XIV.’s time this duty was 9s. 
for every-bullock, 3s. 6d. for a calf or pig, 2s. 6d. for a 
sheep; other articles, such as fish, poultry, butter, eggs, 
cheese, vegetables, firewood, &c., paid at the rate of onle- 
fifth of their value. / 

There was a house-tax at Paris and in other cities ; 
also licences for every shop or trade, including hawkers ; 
a tax on public carriages, toll-duties, registry ; stamp on 
paper, parchment, metals, leather, &c.; taxes on tallow, 
oil, soap, tobacco, &c. =" 

One of the most oppressive taxes was that on salt. Salt 
was and still is in France, as well as in most countries of 
the continent, a monopoly of the government. All pro- 
prietors of salt-pits were obliged to sell their salt at a 
low price into the government stores, from which alone 
the retailers and the people in general coule supply 
themselves, and this rule was strictly enforced by the 
most severe penalties. ‘The profit on this article was 
calculated at several hundred times its original value. 
It was sold at eleven sols, or five-pence halfpenny the 
pound. In the country every family was assessed for a 
certain proportion of salt in proportion to the number of 
its members, which they were forced to purchase from 
the officers of the gabelle, or revenue. This is still the 
practice in several states of the continent. 

But the worst part of the whole system was that most 
of these taxes on articles of consumption were farmed to 
speculators who outbid each other, and paid a large 
premium for the lease, of which they made of course the 
most they could by squeezing out of the people much 
more than what they paid into thetreasury. Just before 
the revolution the farms paid into the treasury about five 
millions sterling, but it was calculated that. they cost the 
people at least twice as much. The whole revenue of 
France, including the domains. of the crown, the free 
gifts of the clergy and of the- state provinces, the 
additional tenths on the capitation tax, &c., and which, 
under Lewis XIV., had been raised to 750 millions, or 
30 millions sterling, amounted in 1789 to 475 millions of 
livres, or about nineteen millions sterling. It rose under 
Necker’s administration to 568, or near about twenty- 
two millions and a half. France now pays more thian 
double that amount, and yet the people do not feel the 
burthen so heavy as they did then, owing to the better 
and more equal distribution of taxation, and to the great 
increase of industry, trade, and national resources. 

‘In every country,” thus wrote Dr. Moore in 1779 *, 
“ there ts poverty in the large towns, often produced by 
vice, idleness, or improvidence, but in France the poorest 
inhabitants of the capital are often in a better condition 
than the laborious peasant. ‘I'he former, by administering 
to the luxuries or taking advantage of the follies of the 

* A View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland, &c. 


MAGAZINE. [J uLy 6, 
creat aud the wealthy, may procure a tolerable liveli- 
hood and sometimes make a fortune, while the peasant 
cannot without much difficulty earn even a scanty and 
precarious subistence. In order to retain a favourable 
notion of the wealth of France, we must remain in the 
capital, or visit a few trading or manufacturing towns; 
we must not enter the chateau of the seigneur, or the 
hut of the peasant. In the former we shall find nothing 
but tawdry furniture, and from the other we shall be 
scared by penury. In every country a failure of crops, 
or other accidental circumstances, may occasion distress 
and scarcity amoung the common people at a particular 
time: but when there is a permanent poverty through 
several reigns and for a long tract of years among the 
peasantry of such a country as France, this seems to me 
the truest proof of a careless and consequently an op- 
pressive government.” 

Another of the burthens of the French peasantry, was 
the corvées, or forced labour which they were called upon 
to perform, gratis, fur the lord of the manor or feudal 
estate. ‘This power was left to the discretion of the 
local agent or steward, and was a source of infinite 
vexations and oppressions. The service of the corveées 
had never been regulated by any edict or law. This ob- 
noxious practice, however, was abolished in 1776, several 


| years before the revolution, and its suppression was 


one of the first acts of Lewis XVI.’s reign. In fact 
things had berun to improve, when the violence of the 
revolution threw the whole social system into confusion, 
and inany years of universal distress rolled over France 
before the labouring classes could derive ‘any benefit 
from the sweeping change. What these benefits were, 
and how far they extended, we shall, see in a future 
number. 

From what we have said, it will appear that the con- 
dition of the French labourers in the last century, 
although generally depressed, varied considerably in 
different localities, according as they lived on feudal or 
free estates, in state provinces or in those without as- 
semblies; it was in truth left a great deal to chance, 
and the disposition of the local rulers. In several parts, 
the nobles and landlords lived in harmony and kind 
intercourse with their tenants and labourers, and then 
the lot of the latter was tolerably happy. And the 
effects of this were seen amidst the revolutionary storms 
that followed. The peasantry of the districts we allude 
to stood by their landlords, their nobility, and their 
clergy, against the sweeping decrees of the Paris Con- 
vention, and fought long and desperately against the 
troops of the latter. We need only name La Vendée, 


to recall these facts to the minds of our readers, 


Utility of Dogs.—The dogs of Constantinople belong to 
every body and to nobody, the streets are their homes; their 
appearance is between a wolf and a jackal. It is astonishing 
how they continue their species, exposed to a rigorous winter, 
and the casualties of a large city. They are littered and 
reared in the streets. In.the summer several die of thirst, 
but none are ever known to go mad. Though a worrying 
nuisance to walkers, their general utility is obvious; for as 
the Turks throw the leavings of their kitchens out of doors, 
the streets would very soon be impassable -but for the 
scavenger-like propensities of the dogs and the storks, assisted 
occasionally by vultures. As they subsist entirely on charity 
and what they pick up, instinct teaches them the necessity of 


a division of labour ; and therefore, in the same manner as 


a well-regulated society of beggars has separate walks for its 
members, they divide the city and its suburbs into districts. 
Were a dog found in a strange quarter, he would infallibl 

be torn in pieces by the resident dogs ; and so well are they 
aware of this, that no argument, not even a bone of roast 
meat, will induce a dog to follow a person beyond his district ; 
a singular and authenticated fact. We caressed for experi- 
ment one of these animals, whose post with many others was 
near the Mevlevi Khan; we daily fed him till he became fat 
and sleek, and carried his tail high, and was no longer to be 


| recognized for his former self. With his physical, his moral 


1833.] 


qualities improved. He lost his currishness, and when his 
patrons approached, expressed gratitude by licking their 
hands, &c.; yet he would never follow them beyond an 
imaginary limit, either way, where he would stop, wag his 
tail, look wistfully after them till they were out of sight, and 
then return to his post. Once only I saw him oyerstep his 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


261 


limit; he was very hungry and we were alluring him with 
tempting food; but he had not exceeded twenty yards when 
he recollected himself, and ran hastily back. ¥ cannot say 
if any order of precedency is observed in gaining the best 
stations, as near a butcher's shop or a Khan.—From 
Mr, Slade's Travels in Turkey, Greece, &§c, 





THE CARTOONS OF RAFFAELLE.—No. 7. 


ELYMAS STRUCK WITH BLINDNESS. 


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a WHAM ESE. 


THE scenery of the Cartoons is here diversified with a | and lictors, is seated on his tribunal in front of ‘a recess 


Pretorium, or Roman hall of justice. The composition 
is of that kind in which the middle space is left vacant, 
the figures being arranged on a semicircular line, and 
extending from one side of the picture to the other; an 
arrangement admirably adapted to this subject. The 


Proconsul Sergius Paulus, surrounded by his officers’ 


in the centre of the hall. Paul and Elymas are the 
foremost figures in the composition, placed on each side 
of the magistrate, and confronting each other. During 
the first promulgation of Christianity the preaching of 
the Apostles, and the fame of their iniracles, instigated 
a number of impostors to an assumption of similar 


262 


fanctions ; among these, Bar-jesus, called Elymas, “a 
false prophet and 2 sorcerer,” was one of the most con- 
Spicuous 3 ; he appears to have obtained considerable 
credit, and on the arrival of Paul and Barnabas at 
Paphos, had the audacity to challenge them to a public 
discussion before Sergius Paulus, with the hope of pre- 
venting the proconsul from embracing the Christian 
faith. The presumption and impiety of Klymas was 
met by this denunciation from the lips of the apostle: 
‘“ Behold! the hand of the Lord is upon thee, and thou 
shalt be blind, not seeing the sun for a season. -And 
iminediatély,” continues the sacred narrative, “ there fell 
on ‘hin a mist arid darkness, and he went about; seeking 
sole ‘one to lead him by the hand.” 

19 lymas is Aninihilated by this calamity; he no longer. 

exhibits the front or bearing of the subtle dispntant or 
dating impostor. His whole action—the person bent, 

ihe artis and hands ‘stretched out, one leg cautiously 
advanded, While the other sustains the weieht of the 
fioure, all indicate the confused and uncertain “feeling of 
oie sirtick with sudden blindness,—all is expressive of 
astonishment, affliction, and dismay. The group behind 
hink, ainidst Much variety of action, is connected by an 
admirable chain ‘of expression: one of the male figures 
points té Elymas 3; the other to Heaven} the female, on 
thé contrary, whi is: no doubt meant for the wife of 
Elymas, protests aloud against the infliction, ascribing it 
to human malice, and pointing indienantly at St. Paul 
as the author of it. The officer who stands on the steps, 
of the tribune, extends his hand towards the sorcerer, 
and turning to the surrounding crowd, seems to say, 
“ Behold the judement which has fallen on him !" 
while the man on the right of Elymas gazes on his 
face with such an intensity of wonder aiid curiosity as 
vives ali air of reality to the whole scene. 

Elymas is the personification of detected falsehood : 
St. Paul appears the image of irresistible truth 5 simple, 
erect, decisive, he stands in the calm consciousness of 
power, and it is only from his upraised arm and finger 
that we perceive it is from him that the impostor has 
received his doom. ‘Vhe whole composition is in the 
hiehest degree picturesque, although not the slightest 
sacrifice of propriety is made for that object; an air of 
decorum even, proper to a hall of justice, is preserved 
amidst all the excitement of the scene ; the figures of the 
lictors are adinirably char acteristic, the procunsul himself 
has a striking air of grandeur and intelligence ; his 
conversion was consédtient: on ‘the event here represented, 
but Raffaelle was justified in indicatme thet ‘essential 
circumstance by an ‘inscription, us there was no otlier 
mode ‘of ‘expressing it. 

We have confined our observations on the'Cartéons to’ 
the qualities of composition, character, aud ‘expression ; 
parts ‘of the art which may be considered purely infel- 
lectual, and which admit of bemg conveyed through the 
medium of engraving. ‘Of tlie manual éxécution of the. 
Cartoons, which can only be understood by an inspection | 
of the origimals, it may be observed, that Having béen 
execited when Raffaelle was in the zenith ofhis : powers, 
they exhibit throughout the «most ‘consummate mastery 
and decision of hard, without any trade of that timidity 
which is visible in his’earlier performances. ‘Phe colour- 
ing has perhaps ‘gener: ally too great. an inclination to- 
réd, althowelr, even in this quality, there are occasionally 
passages of hie hexcellence. At whatever ‘distance they | 7 
are Séen, these Cartoons ‘stand ‘out. with ‘the noblest and: 
most perspicnous effect, without the slightest alloy of 
complexity or littleness. The wish of men of taste that 
they may form the first ornament of the new National 
Gallery, when completed, cannot be too often enforced. 
It would be without excuse if the practice of our artists, 
or’ the taste of the public at large, should retrograde 


materially from just principles of art while such noble | 
examples were before them. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


periodical ; 


‘decreasé, then ‘again begin to increase, and so On. 
the acceleration of the moon’s mean motion just alluded 


[Jury 6, 


THE MOON.—No. 2. 

Tue various methods by which the motions of the 
heavenly bodies are represented in popular treatises have 
this disadvantage, that not being strictly, sometimes not 
even nearly, correct, they are apt to leave false impressions 
upon the inind, after the time when it becomes necessary 
to abandon the first suppositions, and take up otliers 
which are nearer the truth. Thus we find it stated that 
the moon moves round the earth wniformly, in about 
twenty-seven days, eight hours, aud three-quarters, and 
always in the same plane, which would lead the be- 
einner to expect that if it occwlted, or passed over any 
star mm one month, it would occult the same star in the 
next month. Again, we speak of the moon’s orbit as 
if it were a circle on the sphere of the heavens, which 
always retained its place, and of the moon’s distance 
from the earth as if it were always the same. We may, 
however, ‘lay down the following principles, which thie 
reader must bear in mind in every part of this subject. 

1. Thére is nothing in the solar system which daes 
not undergo sensible variation, except the times of. rota- 
tion ‘of the. planets round their own axes, the average 
distances ‘of the planets from the sun and of the satellites 
from their primaries, and the average or mean times of 
revolution of the planets round the sun, and of the satel- 
lites round their primaries. By the mean time of revolu- 
tion we mean the average of a large number of revolutions, 
one hundred for example: thus we should not find any 
sensible difference between one hundred years and another 
hundred ; or between one hundred months and the next 
hundred: though there may be a slight difference between 
one year aud the next,-and a decided difference between 
one month and the next. ‘To give a notion of the 
magnitudes of which we are speaking, we should call 
two. minutes a-slight difference between two years, and 
two hours.a decided difference between two months. 


‘Even when we say that the mean distances and mean 


motions are invariable, we only mean that, within the 
time of human observations, no sensible variation has 
been observed. With regard to the moon there is a 
slight variation in her average motion, which though at 
present causing a difference ‘of only about eleven seconds 
of a degree in a century, or about the 17Uth part of her 
appaient diameter, becomes sensible in a lapse of ages, 
and was discovered by comparing the asserted time ‘of 
some Chaldean observations of eclipses, with the times:at 
which these eclipses should have happened, if the presént 
rate-of motion were always strictly preserved. 

2. All the variations which have yet been observed are 
that is, if, for example, the distance ofa 
planet from the sun is now increasing, it will afterwards 
Tven 


to, will in time be changed into a retardation. At one 
period the motion of Saturn is accelerated in a degree 
Which depends upon the position. of Jupiter ; but then at 
another time it is as much retarded. We may add that, 
supposing. the mean distances to be subject to very slight 
and slow periddical variations, it has been shown that they 
will never be all in their state of etther increase or de- 


‘Crease at thesametime; but thatsome niust bei increasing 


while others are decreasine. ; 
Whenever we talk of a ‘motion as uniform, Which. is 


hot really uniform, it is to be understood that, with 


regard ‘to ithe inatter then immediately under conside- 
reilion, the Want of uniformity makes ‘no sertsible dif- 
ference in the nature of the result. Thus, when we 
come to speak of the moon’s phases, we shall be very well 
able to explain the progress from new to full moon, and 
back again, without taking account of the irregularity. 
These wiil only affect the time of the phenomenon, and 
not the phenomenon itself. However varied the motion 
round the earth may be, provided .it does move round, 
there will always be a new. and full’ moon. 


t 


1833.] 


If one ball, A, is luminous, and throws its heht upon | illuminated; and if A be 
of 1B will be illuininated. 


be illuminated ; if A be equal to B, just half of B will be diagram, 


another, B, if A be less than B, less than half of B will 


A 





A may be, the further it is removed from B the less of 
B is illuminated ; though if A be greater than B, never 
less than one half. ‘Though the sun is much ereater 
than the moon, yet its distauce is so great that we may 
consider the moon as half illuminated. 

In the followiug diagram, the eye of the spectator is 
looking at the meon from a point in the line M FE, so that 
the hemisphere of the moon whieh is visible to him (or 
which would be, if completely illuminated,) is bounded 
by the circle ABCD. ‘The line MS is drawn from the 






a 
aN 


A 


SON 


centre of the moon towards the sun, so that the boun- 
dary of the illuminated part, or as much of it as is seen 
from the earth, is AFC. Of the hemisphere, which 
would, if illuminated, be visible to him, ABC is not 
illuminated, and is therefore not visible, and A DC is 
visible. ‘The size of the portion ABC depends upon 
the angle I’M B, which is the same as the angle SM F, 
that is, the angle by which the sun is separated from the 
earth to a spectator at the centre of the moon; that is 
to say, the dark part of the moon is as great a propor- 
tion of the whole hemisphere as the angle under which 
a spectator at the eentre of tlie moon sees the sin and 
earth, is of two right angles. Or more simply thus: 





S is 


let S, E, and M represent the relative positions of the 
centres of the sun, earth, and moon, then drawing a 
semicircle pqr, pq represents the proportion of the 
moons surface which is dark, and gr that which is 
enlightened. It must be observed, however, that the 
dark part is on the other side of the moon, not on that of 


q; for on looking at the preceding figure we see that | 
Mit aud 1S both eut through the enlightened part of 


the moon. Inattention to this circumstance would make 
us place the dark and light parts on the wrong sides, 
We now represent the real phenomena of a luna- 
tion, or period in which the moon goes through all its 
ehanges. We suppose the sun to move round the earth, 
instead of the earth round the sun, which will make uo 
difference in the observed phenomeua, -as the reader will 
See on consulting the article on Relative Motion in 
numbers 43 and 44 of the Penny Magazine. A sidereal 
revolution (sidus, a star) of a heavenly body is the time 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





263 
greater than B, more thar half 
his is evident in the following 


At the same time, however great the ball 


A 





in which it goes eompletely round the heavens, from a 
star to the same star again. The average or inean 
sidereal revolution of the sun, or the sidereal year, is 
365 days, 6 hours, 9 minutes, and 10 seconds: the 
average or mean sidereal month, or revolution of the 
moon, 1s 27 days, 7 hours, 43 miuntes, and 12 seconds. 
Hrom which we may ealculate, that while the moon 
moves round the heavens, the sun moves, on the average, 
through 26°... 

In the diagram in the following page, in which the 
sun, moon, and earth are supposed to be in the same 
plane (a supposition near enough to the truth for our 
purpose), we trace, not the common month, or lunation, 
but the sidereal month; which we do, partly because we 
suppose mauy of our readers have studied the common 
diagram in which the phases are explained, while the 
sum remains stationary,’and partly that they may the 
better see how the eommon mouth, Innation, or syno- 
dical month, arises. ‘The earth is at FE; the sun is so 
distant that it appears in the same direetion from the 
centres both of the earth and moon. This is not a 
forced supposition, for the proper place of the sun would 
be at a distance from E, equal to four hundred times 
the distance of the moon. While the moon moves round 
the circle 1, 2,3, &c. the sun moves round E more slowly, 
and the arrow which passes through the moon in the 
figure points to the sun in each position of the moon. 
The smaller circles vepresent the moon’s equator, the 
enlightened part of which is dotted; while the part of 
the enlightened disc which is seen from the carth has a 
thin line of shading behind the dots. ‘The boundaries 
of the face presented to the earth are at @ aud 8. 
‘he reader mnst imagine the representation of the 
moon to be very much reduced in size. We first sup- 
pose the moon and sun to be both in the line passing 
through i andl. No part of the enlightened hemi- 
sphere is then visible: it is new moon, and there is an 

clipse of the sun. ‘The reason why there is not always 
an eclipse of the sun at new moon is, that our supposi- 
tion 1s wrong, and the suu is generally a little above or 
below El. ‘The moou moves from | to 2. If the sun 
moved as fast, no part of the enlightened face would 
ever become visible; but the revolution of the sun being 
much slower, a part of the western edge of the enlicht 
ened face becomes visible, producing the horned appear 
ance visibie in the young moon, the horns being turned 
away from the suu. At 3, itis nearly half moon; it 
would have been quite so, had the sun remained still: 
but, as it is, the half moon will take place a little further 
on, Which we have represented on a smaller scale. At 
half moon, the boundary diameter of the enliehtened 
hemisphere would pass through the earth, if lengthened. 
When the moon comes to 4, nearly three-quarters of it, 
but not quite, will be visible. At 5 it is not quite full 
moon; which latter phenomenon will not be observed 
until some time after, as in the smaller moon, which 
follows 5. Were our diagram strictly true, there would 
be no full moon, but an eclipse of the moon at that point, 
since the earth would prevent the sun’s rays reaching: the 
moon, ‘Lhe sun is, however, as before observed; generally 
a little above or below the plane of the paper. ‘ihe plie- 
nomena of the positions 6, 7,and 8, will now be easily 


DBA THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Jury 6, 1833, 
od 
a (= 
rm i) 


2) 





lini 


seen, but on coming to 1 again it will not be new moon, 
since the sun will have moved forward, and the moon 
must overtake it, as represented in the smaller figure. 
From this period the same changes recommence. During 
the first half of the month the horned or unfinished side 
of the moon is that which is furthest from the sun: during 
the latter half the unfinished part is nearest the sun. 

We see then ‘that the common month or synodical 
month is the sidereal month added to the time during 
which the moon can overtake the sun. ‘This adds more 
than two days to the sidereal month; in fact, we have 


H. MM. 


D. i Ss, 
Average sidereal month...27 7 43 12 
»  synodical month..29 12 44 3 


Nevertheless, we must not expect to find-the real luna- 
tions of the Calendar in exact agreement with the average 
last given. In the first place, the motion of the moon 
is not perfectly uniform ; neither is that of the sun. In 
the winter, the sun is nearer the earth than in summer, 
and moves more rapidly. ‘The winter lunations will 
therefore be longer than those of the summer, since the 
moon having described her actual revolution must follow 
the sun through a greater angle. This cause alone 
makes three or four hours of difference. 

There is a very good illustration of a synodical revo- 
lution in the hands of a watch. These are together at 
twelve o'clock, and would be together at one, if the 
hour-hand remained stationary; but in the mean while 
the hour-hand has moved through five minutes, and the 
minute-hand will therefore take something more than 
five minutes before it overtakes the hour:hand. We 
shall find exactly how much it must move throngh, 
because, changing the numbers. any one who under- 
stands arithmetic may then deduce the synodical month 
from the sidereal month, Whatever the hour-hand 
moves through, the minute-hand moves through éwelve 





times as much, because it moves twelve. times a: fast ; 
but before the minute-hand can overtake, the, otter, it 
must go completely round, and move through what the 
other has moved through besides; therefore one. com- 
plete round cf the minute-hand is: eleven .times the 
motion of the hour-hand before it is overtaken. That 
is, 60 minutes is eleven times what we are in search of; 
which latter is therefore 55°, minutes. . 


aa 4 


Having thus described the phenomena which the moon 
presents, we shall proceed in our next to give an-account 
of a paper by M. Arago on the question of the moon's 
influence on’ the weather. 





Curious Clock.—The most curious thing in the cathedral 
of Lubeck is a clock of singular construction, and very high 
antiquity. It is calculated to answer astronomical purposes, 
representing the places of the sun and moon in the ecliptic, 
the moon's age, a perpetual almanac, and many other con- 
trivances. The clock, as an inscription sets forth, was placed 
in the church upon Candlemas-day in 1405. Over the face 
of it appears an image of our Saviour, and on either side of 
the image are folding doors, so constructed as to fly open 
every day when the clock strikes twelve. At this hour, a 
set of figures representing the twelve apostles come out from 
the door on the left hand of the image, and pass by in 
review before it, each figure making its obeisance by bowing 
as it passes that of our Saviour, and afterwards entering the 
door on the right hand. When the procession terminates, 
the doors close.—-Clarke's Travels in Scandinavia. 





*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


[Mr. Knieur having found it indispensable to remove the Wholesale portion 
of his Business to the City, it is requested that all Country Orders may be 
addressed to 22, Ludgate Street, where the Town Trade will be supplied. 





Printed by Witttam Ciowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Juty 13, 1833. 





THE BASS ROCK. 


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[View of the Bass Rock. | 


“ The fierce Dane, 
Upon the eastern coast of Lothian landed, 
Near to that place where the sea-rock immense, 
Amazing Bass, looks o’er a fertile land.” 
Homer’s Douauas. 


One of the first objects that strikes the eye of the tra- 
veller, after he has crossed the Scottish border by Ber- 
wick, is this remarkable rock in the sea, which lies at 
the mouth of the Frith of Forth, at the distance of about 
a mile and a half from the coast of East Lothian. It 
continues to be seen during the rest of the journey, until 
the traveller approaches Haddington, when the mountain 
called Berwick-law, and other high grounds, conceal it 
from view. It is about a mile in circumference, and not 
much more than 400 feet above the level of the sea, but 
looks considerably higher. ‘The water that washes its 
precipitous sides is from 30 to 40 fathoms deep. The 
rock can be approached in safety only in fine weather ; 
and its stark, rugged ciiffs are only accessible by one 
narrow passage that faces the main land. Close by this 
only landing-place is a castle, now in ruins, but once a 
place of great strength and some importance in history, 
consisting of four square towers and connecting works. 
During the war of religion between Charles If. and 
the Covenanters this castle was converted into a Sstate- 
Vou, II. 


prison, and became the solitary residence of many west- 
country Whigs and recusants.’°.When the dynasty ot 
the Stewarts was driven from the throne of the United 
Kingdom, the Bass Rock was occupied ‘by a brave ear- 
rison devoted to that ill-fated family, who obstinately 
defended it for several years, and gained for the place 
the dubious honour of its being the last spot of British 
eround to yield to the improved and more constitutional 
eovernment introduced by the revolution of 1688. Be- 
sides the castle there seems once to have been a_her- 
mitage and some other habitations on this rock; but 
soldiers, monks, prisoners, and peasants have all been 
long gone; and now the only inhabitants of the Bass 
are zmmense flocks of Solan geese and some score of 
sheep, that contrive to climb up its precipitous sides and 
find pasture on its summit. 

The base of the rock is perforated completely through 
fom east to west by a natural cavern fearfully dark in 
the centre, and through which the sea frequently dashes 
and roars with astounding violence, but which may be 
examined at low water on a calm day. When the tide 
is out, the water remaining in this curious fissure, at a 
few yards from its mouth, 1s not more than knee-deep. 
The young fishermen eften go through it though its 


aspect is exceedingly terrific, At one of the entrances 
2M 


266 


to this cavern it appears as if the Bass were composed of 
two immense rocks, the larger of which leans diagonally 
against the smaller, leaving this narrow chasm between 
them at the bottom, but closely joining with each other 
at all other points. There are several other caverns of 
considerable length, the openings into which resemble 
fretted Gothic windows or doors that have been made to 
deviate from the perpendicular by time or violence. The 
pencil of an able artist alone could convey an idea of 
their singularity and beauty. 

The Bass is now the property of the family of the 
Dalrymples, of North Berwick, a little fishing-town on 
the coast, about three miles distant from the rock. It is 
of course more picturesque than profitable: about £30 
per annum are paid for the birds, and £10 for the right 
of pasturage. The island pays annually twelve Solan 
seese to the mirsster, and two to the schoolmaster of 
North Berwick, as part of their stipends. ‘These geese, 
the principal inhabitants of the islet, are white birds, consi- 
derably smaller than the domesticated geese. ‘They differ 
in many points from any other species of wild geese. They 
are birds of passage, and so very particular in the choice 
of their residence, that it is said, that of all the lonely 
rocks and islets of Scotland they are only found here 
and on Ailsa Craig, a rock in the Frith of Clyde, very 
like the Bass. They regularly arrive, year after year, at 
the end of February or beginning of March. At first a 
small flight is seen to wheel round the rock, and then 
alight on its precipitous sides with the most clamorous 
screams; these are soon followed by other flights, each 
more numerous than that which preceded it, and in a 
very few days after the arrival of the scouts and van- 
guard, the whole of the migratory colony is assembled, 
and no more stragglers are seen to arrive. They gene- 
rally leave the Bass in parties, as they vame, towards the 
end of October, though, occasionally, when the winter is 
mild and fish abundant in the surrounding sea, they 
forero their journey to distant parts of the world, and 
stay there the whole year round. MJLast winter, for 
instance, they did not leave the Bass. 

They lay several eggs each, but only sit upon one, 
which they hatch on the face of the bare rock. Their 
season of incubation is in June and July, when the cliffs 
literally seem covered with their snow-white plumage. 

Their flesh has a strong fishy disagreeable flavour. A 
curious method is used by the fishermen in the neigh- 
bourhood to catch them: they take a small wooden 
plank, which is sunk a little below the surface of the sea 
by means of a stone or a piece of lead; on this plank 
they put a herring, and then drag the plank after them 
by a long rope, which leaves the trap considerably astern 
of the boat. The bird, attracted by the sight of its 
favourite food, wheels two or three times in the air, and 
then plunges down with such rapidity, that it often 
transfixes the plank with its bill, and is almost invariably 
stunned or killed by the shock. 

The plumage of the Solan geese, which is beantifully 
white and soft, is sold to upholsterers and others, who 
employ it in making feather-beds. The old man, who 
rents the rock, plucks the birds before they are sent to 
market. When deprived of their plumage they sell on 
an average at about seven-pence each. A good many of 
them find their way to the markets of Dunbar, Had- 
dington, and Edinburgh, where many persons, who have 
been accustomed to it, do not find their flesh unpalatable, 
and use it at breakfast. The old man only takes the 
young birds, but sportsmen and others, who occasionally 
cisregard his rights, shoot whatever comes in their way, 
though it is scarcely possible to eat the flesh of the old birds. 

The writer of this short account, who has just re- 
turned from an excursion to the Bass *, was much 
amused by the old fisherman’s description of the mode of 
taking the young birds. It is precisely the same as that 
adopted in the Feroe Islands, Norway, and other rocky 

* May 9, 1833. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Jory 18, 


coasts. The geese hatch and bring up their young on 
the most precipitous sides of the rocks, where man has 
no possible means of access, except by being suspended 
from the head of the precipice. When this dangerous 
operation is to be performed, a party, never less than 
six men, climb up the Bass to some spot where there is 
firm footing, and which is immediately above a brood 
of the geese, which always lie in large flocks crowded 
together. The man who is to descend is secured by a 
strong rope tied round his body, and a second rope, 
with a leaden weight at its end, is dropped down by 
his side within reach of his hand. Both these ropes 
are kept fast by the men on the top of the rock, who 
gradually lower their companion down the sides of the. 
perpendicular cliff. The man, in his descent, aids him- 
self, or rests himself occasionally, by putting his toes in 
the crannies or on slight projections of the rock. The 
second rope, which serves to steady him, he grasps with 
his left hand, and in his right hand he carries a strong 
stick to knock down the young birds, and keep off the 
old ones, whose bite is exceedingly severe. As soon as 
he reaches the point where the brood lies, he proceeds 
with all expedition to knock them on the head, on which 
they fall from the narrow ledge where they were sitting, 
and drop into the sea at the foot of the rock, where they 
are taken up by men in boats. Great havoc is thus 
made on the poor birds in a very few seconds, and when 
their destroyer has disposed of all he can reach, he is 
pulled up to the top of the rock. 

The eastern side of the Bass is most frequented by the 
Solan geese. As the writer approached, on the morning 
of the 9th May, an almost incredible number of geese 
flew thence, looking like snow blown from a mountain’s 
side. ‘Their united scream, which is peculiarly wild and 
shrill, seemed to reproach his intrusion as they wheeled 
over his head. In going round the rock, the geese flew 
out in great numbers in many other places, and besides 
them morrits or puffens, and tommy-nories or hawks, 
darted from the sides of the cliffs in countless numbers. 

When the writer reached the landing-place, he found 
some men in a large boat with twenty-two sheep that 
were brought to the Bass for pasture. The first part of 
the ascent, which lay over steep slippery rocks, was not 
performed without some difficulty either by the sheep or 
the men. On the top of the rock, however, the poor 
sheep found excellent grass. ‘They were to be left here 
until October or November, when the shepherd said, it 
was sure they would be found fat and in the finest con- 
dition. A variety of beautiful wild flowers, in full bloom, 
sprung up among the pasture and from fissures in the 
rocks. 

Many of the geese had already laid their exes and 
were sitting on them. On the side of a cliff above the 
castle—the only place where the traveller could get at 
all near to them—about a hundred that were thus occu- 
pied, allowed him to approach almost within reach of 
them before they would leave their eggs. They then 
rose on the wing, uttering their wildest screams, and 
hovered over their eggs until the intruder departed, 
when they instantly returned to their positions. The 
egos lay on the bare rock without any thing to protect 
them. Unlike the tame goose, these birds had a very, 
bold and fierce appearance, 

On the shore| of the main land, immediately opposite 
to the Bass Castle, stand the striking ruins of Tantallan 
Castle, which form one of the finest features in the view, 
that is, on all sides, varied and picturesque, and crowded 
with historical associations. 

On returning from the Bass, one of the boatmen 
picked up a full-grown Solan goose that had been 
wounded and lay on the water unable to mse. ‘Though 
this bird was almost exhausted, and died an hour after it 
was taken, the strength of its bill and its fierceness were 
very remarkable. ‘The bill terminated in a sharp point, 
slightly curved at the extremity; it was nearly twice as 


1833.] 


long as the bill of the domesticated goose; its colour 
was a light grey, and it was marked on each side (both 
the upper and lower part of it) with a fine black line 
that merged at one end in the black mark round the eye, 
and at the other end terminated.in an evanescent point 
near the end of the bill. The strength and regularity of 
these lines were very curious, 

The top of the bird’s head was of a delicate brownish 
yellow colour, very like raw Italian silk. This colour 
was softened off as it approached the bill; it was darkest 
at the back of the head at the beginning of the neck, but 
became fainter and fainter as it descended the neck, 
until it faded away, imperceptibly, in the spotless white 
of the plumage of the body. The end of the bird’s wings 
were black. ‘The web ofits feet wene a fine dark brown, 
with a tinge of blue; the tendons in them (four to each 
foot) were beautifully defined and beaded; in colour 
they were pale blue, with a very light tinge of green. 
The old fisherman said this was a fine specitnen of the 
species, among which he had never been able to detect 
any variety. When first hatched the geese are ofa dark 
brown colour all over. Nothing in nature, not even un- 
trodden snow, can surpass the beautiful pure white of the 
plumage on the breast and body of the full-grown bird. 





LIBERIA. 

Tuts colony, founded by a society in the United States 
in the Guinea district, eastwards of Cape Mesurado, is 
now in the twelfth year of its growth. None but free 
people of colour, or free men in general, whether white 
or black, are allowed to dwell within its limits; and 
hence the name that has been given to it. The chief 
town, which is fortified and inhabited by seven or eight 
hundred individuals, has been christened Monrovia, in 
honour of Monroe, the American President, during 
whose presidency it was founded. There is another 
town, called Caldwell, with a population of about six 
hundred souls and an “ Agricultural Society,’ in this 
infant republic, which consists almost entirely of Africans, 
once slaves in the United States. In its earlier years, 
its existence Was in great peril from the determined 
hostility of the neighbouring tribes; but their aggres- 
sions Were courageously repulsed, and they have since 
evinced not only an aptness to adopt the customs and 
manners Of their new neighbours; but many of them 
have actually placed themselves under the protection of 
the Liberian colony. Of its present state we cannot 
offer a more recent view than what is contained in a 
report published at Washington on the 27th September 
last, and reprinted in the ‘ Liberia Herald’ of last Fe- 
bruary *; we give it just as it is, and without any com- 
ment :—“ Having been requested by the free eoloured 
people of Natchez to visit Liberia, and see for ourselves 
the true state of things, that we might make to them a 
correct and full report in regard to the prospects opening 
before free men of colour, who may settle in that colony, 
and having just returned from Africa, we present to our 
coloured brethren in the United States the following 
brief statement. On the 30th of June we anchored at 
Monrovia, and remained in the colony nearly three 
weeks, during all which time we were enigaged in making 
inquiries and observations, and endeavoured to learn the 
true condition and prospects of the people. * * * When 
We armved and set our foot on shore, we were treated 
with a kindness and hospitality far beyond our most 
sanguine expectations, and which made us feel ourselves 
at home. ‘There was not a man who did not take us by 
the hand and treat us as brothers. We felt for the first 
time what it was to be free and independent. ‘The 
people there possess a spirit of liberty and independence, 
such as we have never seen among the coloured people 


* This is the eleventh monthly number of the third volume, In 
the ‘Marine List,’ the names of seventeen vessels ‘arrived,’ and 
seventeen ‘sailed, are given, as the return of the movements in the 


port, trom the Lith January to the 11th of February, 1833. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


267 


of this country. As a body, the people of Liberia, we 
think, owing to their circumstances, have risen in their 
style of living and their happiness far above those of 
their coloured brethren, even the most prosperous of 
them, that we have seen in the United States. They 
feel that they have a home. They have no fear of 
the white man, or the coloured man. They do not 
look up to others, but they are looked up to by them. 
Their laws grow out of themselves and are their own. 
They truly sit under their own vine and fig-tree, 
having none to molest and make them affaid. Since 
our return we have been in the houses of some of 
the most respectable men of colour in New York and 
Philadelphia, but we have seen none, on the whole, 
so well furnished as many of the houses in Monrovia. 
The floors are, in many cases, well carpeted, and all 
things about these dwellings appear neat, convenient, 
and comfortable. ‘There are five schools, two of which 
we visited, and were much pleased with the teachers, 
and the improvement of the children. We noticed very 
particularly the moral state of things, and during our 
visit saw but one man who appeared to be intemperate, 
and but two who used any profane language. * * * 
The sabbath is very strictly observed, and there is great 
attention to the things of religion. We attended church 
several times, and one of us being a minister of the 
Gospel, of the Methodist Church, preached three times 
to large and very attentive congregations — all well 
dressed, and apparently respectable persons. We visited 
the pvor-house, and found there four sick and infirm 
persons, one of whom made a good deal of complaint 
for want of supplies and attention. We found only 
two other persons in the colony who expressed any dis- 
satisfaction, and we had much reason to doubt whether 
they had any good cause for it. ‘The soil at Caldwell 
and Millsbure is as fertile as we ever saw, and much 
like the land on the Mississippi. We saw growing upon 
it, pepper, corn, rice, sugar-cane, cassada, plantains, 
cotton, oranges, limes, coffee, peas, beans, sweet pota- 
toes, water-melons, cucumbers, sousop, banana, and many 
other fruits and vegetables. We saw cattle, sheep, and 
goats; also swine and poultry in great abundance. 
Wherever we went the people seemed to enjoy good 
health; and a more healthy-looking people, particularly 
the children, we have not seen in the United States. 
* * * Our own health, whilst in the colony, was per- 
fectly good, although we were much exposed to the 
night air. We must say, that had what we have seen of 
the prosperity of the colony of Liberia been reported to 
us by others, we should hardly have believed them ; aud 
are therefore prepared to expect.that our own report 
may be discredited by our coloured brethren. We wish 
them to see and judge for themselves. Whatever they 
may say or think, it is our deliberate judgment that the 
free people of colour will greatly improve their character 
and condition, and become more happy and more useftl 
by a removal to Liberia. ‘There alone can the black 
man enjoy true freedom; and where that freedom is, 
shall be our country.” 


Cultivation of the Vine in the Tyrol.—Great quantities 
of Brixen wine are consumed at Brixen, Sterzing, Prune- 
ken, and in the valley of the Inn: the vine Is accordingly 
extensively cultivated,—and they find a means of doing this 
with much economy of land; for the vine is planted in 
wooden troughs or mangers, at intervals of about four yards ; 
an arch is formed with twigs, across, from one to the other, 
and the vine therefore forms a bower above,—while the 
vround beneath produces grain of one kind or another: 
they have therefore a double crop from the land, with only 
the deduction of the first outlay. The effect of this raanner 
of planting is singular, and certainly gives great richness to 
the landscape: but the thick foliage of the vines, preventing 
the access of the sun to the crops beneath, must be injurious 
to them. They no doubt find their advantage however, 1n 
the system they adopt, else they would discontinue 1t.— 
Inglis's Tyrol, 

2M 2 





268 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Jury 13, 


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[West Front of Bath Abbey-Church. ] 


THE “Abbey-Chureh of Bath, of the west front of 
which the above cut is a representation, has been some- 
times called a cathedral; but it has no title to that 
appellation. It was, up to the time of the dissolution of 
the religious houses, merely the church of a monastery 
or convent; and it has never been a diocesan church. 
The first religious establishment whicn existed here was 
a nunnery founded in the year 676, by Osric, designated 
King of the Wiccii, one of the petty princes subordinate 
to the King of Wessex. The nunnery is said to have 
been destroyed by the Danes; but, in 775, the house 
was rebuilt by Offa, King of Mercia, who dedicated it to 
St. Peter, and placed in it a body of secular canons. 

They held possession fill 970, when they were removed 
by King Edgar, and the institution converted into an 
abbey of Benedictine mouks. After this, the church 
was more than dnce destroyed and rebuilt. The fabric, 

which immediately preceded the present, was erected 

about the middle of the twelfth century. Its dimensions 
would appear to have exceeded those of the present | 


church, its length having been about three hundred feet. 
In course of time it was allowed to fall into great decay, 
and was in part little better than a mere ruin, when Dr. 
Oliver King was appointed to the see of Bath and Wells 
in 1495. This prelate is stated to have been prompted 
to undertake the rebuilding of the abbey-church by a 
dream in which he beheld a Jadder reaching from earth 
to heaven, and angels ascending and descending, as in 
the vision of Jacob, ‘tovether iti certain other emblems, 
which persuaded him that he was desiened to be the 
restorer of the sacred structure. As this dream is ac- 
tually represented on the west front of the church, there 
seems to be no reason to doubt the common story. 
King, although a man of ability and learning, seems to 
have been a character very likely to be influenced by a 
remarkable dream, or any other similar incident. His 
owh name, compounded of the term Kino, and the 
Olive, which j is recorded in the scriptural par allel to have 
been on one occasion chosen for their king by the other 
trees, is related to have, been also regarded by him as 


1833.] 


marking him out for this or some other important | 


achievement. Of the truth of this tradition also some 
evidence is afforded by the sculptures of the abbey- 
church. Bishop King was zealously seconded in his 
pious undertaking by the prior of the monastery, William 
Birde, a person of a character apparently somewhat akin 
to his own. Birde has recorded his share in the work 
by leaving a W, with the figure of.a bird, cut out on 
different parts of the church. Anthony Wood says, that 
he was one of the seekers after the philosopher's stone, 
and his researches appear to have been attended with 
the common result; for he is stated to have died: poor 
and blind. His death took place in 1525, at which time 
the building of the mew church had not advanced very 
far. It was, however, carried on by his successor, Wil- 
liam Holway or Gibbes, and had been nearly brought 
to a close, when this last ruler of the monastery was 
obliged to surrender the house into the hands of the 
king in 1539. 

After the’ Reformation the nearly-completed church 
was stripped of its glass, iron, bells, and lead, which were 
purchased from the royal commissioners by some mer- 
chants. ‘I'he weight of lead alone is said to have 
amounted to four hundred and eighty tons. Its bare 
walls, with the other monastic buildings, and the ground 
on which they stood, were then purchased by a person of 
the name of Humphrey Colles, and he some years after 
sold the property to Matthew Colthurst. The son of the 
latter made a present of the church to the mayor and citi- 
zens, that it might serve, as it has since done, for a parish 
church. As for the other buildings, they passed through 
various hands, and were pulled down one after tlie other 
to supply materials, or to make room for other structures. 
“The buildings of the monastery,’ says the account of 
the abbey-church, published by the Society of Anti- 
quaries, “* extended over a large space of ground; they 
consisted of the church, cloisters, chapter-house, prior’s 
house, monks’ lodgings, and dormitory built by Bishop 
Bekington. ‘The prior’s house, with some of the apart- 
ments of the monks, stood on the south side of the con- 
ventual church. Soon after the dissolution,’ it was 
repaired, and again made habitable; some parts, how- 
ever, of the old house were left in their pristine state, 


and were never occupied after their. being taken from 


the monks. On pulling down part of these buildings in 
the beginning of the 18th century, one of the apart- 
ments, which had been walled up, and never explored, 
discovered a very curious and interesting sight: round 
the walls, upon pegs, were hung copes, albs, chesibles, 
and other garments of the religious, which, on the ad- 
mission of the air, became so rotten as to crumble into 
powder. ‘There was also found the handle of a crozier, 
and on the floor lay two large chests, without any con- 
tents, as it was alleeed by the workman; one of whom, 
however, .grew rich upon the occasion, and retired from 
business.” The last traces of the monastic buildings at 
length disappeared in 1755, when their very foundations 
were removed. On this occasion many stone coffins 
were dug up, and the old Roman baths, which had been 
bnried for probably more than a thousand years, were 
again brought to light. 

It was some time after the church came into the pos- 
session of the city before any thing was done for its 
restoration. The first repairs were commenced in 1572 
by a private citizen, Mr. Peter Chapman. They were 
carried on by the contributions of different individuals 
throughout the remainder of the reign of Elizabeth ; 
and were not completed till about the year 1616. One 
of the most munificent contributors to the work, in its 
latter stage, was the bishop, Dr. James Montague, who 
canie to the see in 1609. His brother, Sir Henry 
Montague, Chief Justice of the King’s Bench, and Sir 
Nicholas Salters, a citizen of London, also contributed 
with great liberality. 


From this sketch it appears that the present abbey- ! 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


269 


church of Bath is to be referred to the very latest ave of 
wnat is called the Gothic style of architecture. It is in 
fact the last great building in that style which was 
erected in this country. It is far from having to boast 
of either the magnificence or the richness of many of our 
cathedrals ; but it is still a fine and imposing building. 
“This.church,” says Fuller, in his quaint manner, “ is 
both spacious and specious, the most lightsome as ever I 
beheld, proceeding from the greatness of the windows, 
and whiteness of the glass therein.” From this abun- 
dance of light the church was wont to be called the 
Lantern of England. The windows amount in all to 
fifty-two, and some of them are of very large dimensions. 

The form of the church is that of a cross, surmounted 

by a tower at the meeting of the nave and transept. 
The length from east to west is 210 feet, by 72 in 
breadth, and 7§ in height. The length of the transept 
is 126 feet, and the height of the great tower 152. Mr. 
Britton, in his History of the Church (4to. 1825), ob- 
serves that the building is remarkable for the unusual 
width of the aisles of the nave, the narrowness of the 
transept, and the length of the choir. The tower, also, 
instead of being, as usual, a square, is an oblong, the 
east and west sides of the base being about a fourth 
longer than the north and south. : ! 
. The west front presents, as usual, the most elaborate 
architectural display, and its aspect is one of considerable 
magnificence. Over the great central door is a broad 
and lofty-arched window, while -battlemented octagonal 
towers rise from the two extremities of the facade. 
Buttresses and ornamental sculpture cover the spaces 
between, producing a rich and bold effect. - 

‘The window in the east end is also of large dimen- 
sions, and forms one of the: finest ornaments of the 
building. It is remarkable for the peculiarity, in a 
Gothic edifice, of being terminated at the top, not by an 
arch, but by a straight line. ‘The interior of the church 
has none of the “ dim religious light”’ which fills our 
greater cathedrals. It presents, on the contrary, an ap- 


pearance that may be almost described as gay and showy. 


‘L'welve clustered pillars divide each aisle from the nave, 
which are joined overhead by cylindrical arches, and 
support a roof remarkable for its symmetry and beauty. 
The monuments are so numerous as to form quite a 
throng; and the walls and pillars are besides covered 
with tablets of every variety of shape and material. One 
of the most striking of the monuments is that of Bishop 
Montague, which is in the form of an altar, exhibiting 
the reclining figme cf the bishop in lis pontifical robes. 
The use to which this church has been put as a parish 
church has necessarily changed much of, its original 
appearance and character. Pews and galleries, in the 
modern style, occupy a large portion of the space which 
was left empty. in the original design, and altogether 
destroy its proper simplicity and grandeur. 
Unfortunately for the external appearance of the 
abbey-church, it is, like too many of our finest eccle- 
siastical edifices, surrounded and encumbered by various 
extraneous buildings, which make it impossible to ob- 
tain a complete view of it froin the immediate vicinity. 
Many houses, indeed, had been allowed to be actually 
run up against the walls of the church; but most of 
these have recently been taken down, and the rest 
are now in the course of removal. So great, however, 
is the accumulation of earth and rubbish arourd the 
building, that the level of the ground without is several 
feet higher than the floor of the church, to which accord- 
ingly there is a descent of three steps from the door. 
But although its lower portion is thus buried and hidden, 
it is still, from its size and elevation, a most conspicuous 
object from every part of the surrounding country, 
and, looked down upon from any of the heights that 
encompass the rich vale of the Avon in which Bath 


‘stands, forms the most prominent architectural feature 


of that superb and beautiful city. 


270 


THE MOON.—No. 3. 

WHEN one phenamenon is observed constantly to happen 
at or near the same time as another, the most sceptical 
mind i convinced that there must be some connexion 
between the two. It does not follow that the second is 
caused by the first: but if not, the necessary alternative 
is, that both must depend upon or in some way be 
derived from the same cause. And every circumstance 
which in any ways adds a new and constant relation is 
so much additional proof of the connexion. However 
extraordinary or unaccountable it may be that two phe- 
nomena should always happen together, the mere fact 
of their so happening is an argument in proof of their 
connexion, which it is impossible to overturn by any 
reasoning: whatever. 

Nothing is more common than to hear the evidence 
of such connexion opposed by arguments which after all 
amouwut to this—that the speaker does not see any way 
of explaining Aow the connexion exists. And still more 
common is it to maintain the existence of a connexion 
for which there is no evidence, because it is not more 
extraordinary than something else for which there és 
evidence. A philosophical mind will not allow the word 
extraordinary to have any place in its vocabulary of 
words employed in reasoning, but will stand prepared to 
admit that any two phenomena whatsoever, which con- 
stantly occur together, are in some manner related to 
one another. 

The determination bécomes more difficult when the 
two phenomena do not occur constantly together, 
but only more or less frequently. In such a case the 
only method is to examine a large number of observa- 
tions, with a view of finding whether there is any par- 
ticular circumstance hitherto neglected, which dis- 
tinguishes the casés in which the phenomena have 
occurred together, from those in which one has hap- 
pened unaccompanied by the other. For example, the 
attention of astronomers has lately been very much 
turned to the observation of eclipses of stars by the moon, 
or, as they are called, occultations. The subject was 
taken up as affording a useful method of finding the 
longitude, but several persons soon observed that fre- 
quently, when the moon approached the star, instead of 
hiding it instantaneously, the effect is for a second just 
that which might be expected if the star were the nearer 
body of the two: that is, the star appears to move 
forward upon the moon’s disk, or to be projected upon 
it for a very small time, after which it disappears. 
Remarkable as this may appear, it is still more worthy 
of notice, that it is not every observer who is gifted with 
the power of seeine this phenomenon,—that some stars 
are almost always, others hardly ever, projected,—that 
some observers see the projection at some occultations 
of a star, but not at other occultations of the same. 
About five years ago the Astronomical Society called 
the particular attention of observers to these circum- 
stances, and they thereby procured a mass of information, 
which is published at the end of the fourth volume of 
their Memoirs. Amongst other occultations, that of 
Aldebaran was observed, which took place on October 15, 
1829, Thirty-one different observers sent accounts of 
what they saw, variously distributed in England, France, 
and Gerinany. Of these, twenty-three agree in stating 
that they saw the star visibly projected on the moon's 
limb, some more and some less, but mostly from two to 
three seconds. The other eight saw nothing of the kind. 

We see then that in this particular case nothing can 
be done until a great multitude of observations shall 
furnish the means of ascertaining whether this pheno- 

menon 1s in the eye of the observer, in his telescope, in 
the surrounding atmosphere, or whether it really arises 
out of any circumstance connected with the moon itself. 

When two phenomena are suspected to have some 
connexion with one another, nothing but a large number 
of observations can be of use in ascertaining whether or 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Jury 13, 


no the suspicion is well founded. Let us suppose, for 
example, that a die of six faces 1s suspected to be very 
slightly loaded on the side of the ace; from which, if 
true, it will follow that in a laree number of successive 


‘throws, the ace will appear more than its fair proportion 


of times. Since there are six throws, all of which, on a 
fair die, are equally probable, we must expect that out 
of a large number of throws, one-sixth nearly will be 
aces. No small number of throws will enable us to 
form a fair conclusion; and we must not of course expect 
exactly one-sixth to be aces, or even very nearly one- 
sixth. Suppose, for example, that six thousand throws 
have been made and registered, of which we might 
therefore expect one thousand to be aces. We find, 
however, that there are eleven hundred aces, more than 
the expected proportion, but not so much more as to 
justify us in coming to a conclusion. But if we now 
examine each thousand throws by itself, and find that 
each of them has more than its proportion of aces, we 
have very strong grounds for suspecting that there is 
some reason for the appeararice of the ace, of which 
we were not aware when we said that all throws were 
equally probable. And if instead of into thousands we 
divided the throws into five hundreds, and found still that 
each lot contained more than its proportion of aces, we 
should have moral certainty, that is, a probability of 
a very high order, that the die was loaded in some way. 

The general principle on which the preceding reasoning 
is founded is, that if in a very large number of obser- 
vations we perceive a constant tendency to the hap- 
pening of some event more often than from our previous 
knowledge of the circumstances we thought it fair to 
expect, and if upon repeating our observations, or looking 
at the several lots of observations of which our large 
number was composed, we still find the same result, 
we must conclude that there is more reason for the 
happening of that event than we were aware of. 

We now proceed to give the contents of the paper by 
M. Arago on the connexion of the moon with the state 
of the weather. 

The lunar month of twenty-nine days and a half is, as 
is well known, divided into four quarters, each, on the 
average, of 73. days. The first quarter lies between the new 
and half moon: the second between the half and full 
moon: and during these two quarters the moon 1s in- 
creasing. The third and fourth quarters, which include 
the whole wane of the moon, are from full to half moon, 
and from half to new moon, respectively. 

In 1830 M. Schiibler, of Tubingen, published a series 
of observations on the weather, made in twenty-eight 
different years, viz.: at Munich from 1781 to 1788; at 
Stuttgard from 1809 to 1812; and at Augsbourg from 
1813 to 1828, all inclusive. ‘The following table gives 
the number of rainy days in each quarter for a part of 
that period. 


| 1809 | 1813 | 1817} 1821 | 1825 | 9 a 
to to to to 0 h le 
1812. | 1816. | 1820. | 1824, | 1823, | “?°* 








SS 





es oS 











First quarter. . « | 132 | 142 | 145 | 179 166 | 764 
Second do. . . § . | 145 | 169 | 173 | a 845 
Third do. « « «c-.) 124 | 145.1 162.) 65 see 761 
Mourth do. . . «se | L110 | 189°] 185 (oe 696 
First two quarters . 977 | 311 | 318 | 359 | 344 | 1609 
Last two do. . . | 234 | 284 | 297 | 319 323 | 1457 

Difference . . . 43 27 1 ee 40 21 152 


This table, though constructed for short periods, not 
very likely to give good averages of all the changes, yet 
offers no exception to the following rule: that there are 
more rainy days in the second quarter of the moon than 
in any other, and fewer in the fourth. Also that the first 
half of the lunar month is more rainy than the second. 
Some old observations, made at Vienna in and about 
1788, confirm the preceding results obtained at Augs- 


1883.] 


bourg and Stuttgard. And it must be remarked, that the 
quantities of rain which fall in these three capitals are 
very different, for to every 43 inches of rain which fall at 
Vienna, there are 64 at Stuttgard, and 97 at Augsbourg. 

Some results obtained at Montpellier about 1777, con- 
tradict the preceding conclusions. However, as M. Araco 
remarks, the experiments were there made through a 
shorter time, and no very distinct information was 
given, as to what was recognized as constituting a 
rainy day. In the results of M. Schibler, a day was 
called rainy in which the quantity of rain which fell 
amounted to more than two-hundredths of a line (the 
line being the twelfth part of a French inch). We may 
add that the Montpellier experiments are not presented 
broken up into smaller lots, so that we cannot compare 
the result of the whole series with that derived from its 
separate component parts. And it must be observed, 
that whatever probability may exist as to the quantity 
of rain being greater in one quarter of the moon than 
in others, the observations are yet too few to enable us 
to say whether there is any probability that it is the 
same quarter in all places. 

M. Schiibler then compares the number of rainy days 
which have happened at the different phases of the moon 
during twenty-eight years, in which there were 4299 
rainy days. From which he finds the following result, 
that out of 10,000 rainy days the followine was the 
number which happened at each phase. The octant is the 
real quarter, or three quarter moon, that is, half way 
between new and half moon, or half and full moon, &c. 

New moon . , . .”. 306] Full moon':, .., . 337 
First octant . , . . 306} Thirdoctant .... 313 
Half moon (increasing) 325 | Half moon (waning) 284 
Second octant. . . . 341 | Fourthoctant, , . . 290 

‘The following table is made from sixteen years of* 
observations at Augsbourg. By a clear day is meant 
one in which there were no clouds at seven in the 
morning, and at two and nine in the afternoon: by a 
cloudy day one in which the sky was clouded at all these 
periods. The quantity of rain is measured in lines, or 
twelfths of inches, 


Clear Cloudy Quantity 

days, days. of rain, 
ry ge ea: me « ape 
Half teeon (imeremgine) . . 38 ...57... 277 
Saeeun Oem. ss, , . wed... 6b... 301 
TUM. > Wen SUM wae . 61... » 278 
Half moon (waning)... 41...53... 220 


Which results agree in general indications with the 
preceding. A 

With reward to the distance of the moon from the 
earth, two observations have been made which confirm 
each other, by M. Schibler and M. Pilgram, the Vienna 
observer above-mentioned. From the former it appears 
that in twenty-eight years the week in the middle of 
which the moon was at her nearest distance to the earth 
gave 1169 rainy days; while the similar week for the 

furthest distance of the moon gave 1096 such days. 
The Vienna observations, out of 100 different months, 
gave 36 days of rain when the moon was nearest the 
earth, and 20 when the moon was furthest from it. 

In some observations made in 1774, at Montpellier, 
it appeared that out of 760 rains, 646 began either when 
the moon was very near the upper or lower meridian, or 
very nearly rising or setting. This is however not a 
sufficient number of observations on which to ground 
evelh a surmise. : 

_In sixteen years observations made by M. Schiibler 
at Augsbourg, he found that south and west winds pre- 
vailed most from new moon to the middle of the second 
quarter, while north and east winds were most frequent 
during the last quarter. 

We shall proceed with the details of M. Arago’s 
paper in our next. We shall only observe, that while 
some will admit a higher, some a lower probability of 
the connexion between the moon and the weather, ac-~ 
cording to their various temperaments, all will see that 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


271 


nothing which has been said tends in any deevree to 
confirm the common opinion, that change of weather 
takes place at or very near the change of the moon, 
All the observers must have been aware of this common 
opinion, which is older than the Christian era; so that 
had any thing approaching to a verification of it occurred, 
they would certainly have noticed it. 


DOMESTIC IMPROVIDENCE. 


Tue following extracts, from the evidence taken by the 
Poor-Law Commissioners, are deserving of the most 
serious attention from all those who are anxious to make 
their incomes, whatever be their amount, obtain for them 
a full value in exchange for commodities. Working 
people are very deficient in that knowledge which makes 
a slender purse often more available for comfort than a 
well-filled one improperly managed. 

Mr. Okedon reports, from a parish in Dorsetshire, 
the following curious example of the improvidence of 
the poor in their common dealings :— 

“The enormous profits of the shopkeepers, and the 
badness of their articles, induced one of the landowners 
here to furnish a shop with goods (tea, sugar, rice, 
treacle, &c.) of excellent quality, which were supplied to 
the poor at prime cost. A better tea than they used to 
get for 6s. 10d, per Ib. was supplied at 5s. 2d. per Ib., 
and every thing else in proportion, The two shop- 
keepers, who formerly made a livelihood by their trade, 
were pensioned off. Ready-money (that is, one week’s 
credit) was required. In one year the old shopkeepers 
threw up their pensions, and returned to their trades, 
and ail their customers followed them. The fact is, 
long credit is given; and one of the shopkeepers con- 
fessed to me, that if one out of three paid, he made a 
very comfortable profit. So that the fashionable coach- 
maker in Long-acre, and the petty huckster of a petty 
village, proceed on the same principle of dealing.” 

Mr. Mott, the contractor for Lambeth workhouse, a 
most intelligent witness, gives highly valuable evidence 
on the subject of pawning :— 

“In the course of my experience and investigation, 
I have had many thousands of duplicates of articles 
pledged by the poor; and I have found that nearly all 
the articles pledged by these classes are at sums from 
3d. to ls, and not exceeding 1s. 6d. each pledge. It 
is notorious to those acquainted with the habits of the 
people, and it is Indeed admitted by the paupers them- 
selves, that nine out of ten of them are pledged for 
liquor. The immense proportion of these pawnings 
were by women, and chiefly of articles usually deemed 
essential to their use or comfort, such as handkerchiefs, 
flannel petticoats, shifts, or household articles, such as 
tea-kettles, flat-irons, and such things: these articles 
being always in requisition, they are usually redeemed 
in a few days, and very frequently the same day. I 
made a calculation of the interest paid by them for their 
trifling loans, and found it to be as follows: 

Per Cent. Per Cent, 

A loan of 3d. pe! 5 pcegh Bet pays 5200, Weekly 866 


interest at the rate of . . 


Ad. : oom . 8900 35 «= 680 
Oa = 2600 » ies 
Oe ge ll, es OB 1733 ae 
|. CEE. <OO ec: 1300 os 


Mr. Chadwick has a valuable note, on the same sub- 
ject, of the improvidence of the poor in their dealings :— 

‘On inquiry into the modes of life of the labouring 
classes, I found some of them, with comparatively high 
wages, living in wretchedness ; whilst others, with less 
wages, live in respectability and comfort. ‘The effect of 
economy is more strikingly marked on comparing’ the 
condition of persons of other classes, such, for instance, 
as merchants’ or lawyers’ clerks, with salaries of £50 or 
£60 a year, with the condition “of mechanics earning 
from 30s. to 40s.a week. The one will be comparativety 


272 


well lodged, well fed, and respectable in appearance ; 
whilst the other lives in a hovel, is badly clothed, and in 
appearance, as well as in reality, squalid and miserable. 
Many instances occur where a clergyman, or an officer 
on half-pay, maintains a family on less than £100 per 
annum;.mechanics who during nine months in the 
year earn from 50s. to £3 a week in the metropolis, are 
frequently in the workhouse, with their families, during 
the winter months. In the course of my inquiries as to 
the condition of the working classes, a erocer residing in 
the metropolis, in a neighbourhood chiefly inhabited by 
the lower class of labourers, observed, that they are the 
worst domestic economists, and that if they had. the 
intelligence, they have the means of greatly raising their 
own condition. He stated to me,. that the working men 
habitually purchase of him the smallest quantities of the 
commodities they want. ‘They come every day, for 
example, for a quarter of an ounce of tea for breakfast. 
This they do though in regular employment, and receiv- 


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Pepro GonzALEZ DE Menpoza, the Grand Cardinal of 
Spain, invited Columbus to a banquet, where le assigned 
him the most honourable place at table, and had him 
served with the ceremonies which, in those punctilious 
times, were observed towards sovereigns. At this repast 
is said to have occurred the well-known anecdote of the 
egg. <A shallow courtier present, impatient of the 
honours paid to Columbus, and meanly jealous of him 
as a foreigner, abruptly asked him whether he thought 
that, in case he had not discovered the Indies, there 
were not other men who would have been capable of 
the enterprise. To this Columbus made no immediate 
reply, but, taking an egg, invited the company to make 
it stand upon one end. Every one attempted it, but in 
vain, Whereupon he struck it upon the table so as to 
break the end, and left it standing on the broken part; 
illustrating, in this simple manner, that when he had 


once shown the way to the New World, nothing was |! 


THE PENNY 


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easier than to follow it. 
authority of the Italian historian Benzoni. 


MAGAZINE. [Jury 13, 1833. 
ing their wages weekly. ‘To estimate their loss on this 
mode of purchasing, he pointed out, that in a pound of 
tea they have to pay him, first for the labour of weighing 
sixty-four quantities instead of one. ‘To this loss might 
be added their own loss of time in running to and fro 
sixty-four times to the shop instead of once. Secondly, 
for the additional quantity of paper used in wrapping up 
the tea. The paper which will wrap up a pound of tea 
will only wrap up sixteen quarter-ounces; consequently tne 
purchaser of sixty-four quarter-ounces must pay extra for 
the wrappers of forty-eight quarter-ounces. Altogether, 
he considers that the labouring man pays not less than 
6d. a pound, or the value of a pound or pound and-a-half 
of meat extra, for every pound of the low-priced tea he 
purchases. Nor is this the only loss. He is accustomed 
to consume the whole quantity purchased, though a less 
quantity: might often suffice; all goes into the pot, as he 
will not leave,’ or, as he calls it, ‘ waste, so small a quan- 
tity. And so it is with all other commodities.” 





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This anecdote rests on the 
It has been 


condemned as trivial, but the simplicity of the reproof 
constituted its severity, and was characteristic of the 
practical sagacity of Columbus. The universal popu- 
larity of the anecdote is a proof of its merit—_Washing- 
ton Irving's Life of Columbus. 

Our celebrated Hogarth published an etching, illus- 
trative of this anecdote. We give a copy of it above. 





*,” The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
"AND 18, PALL-MALL EAST. 


(Mr. Kyronr having found it indispensable to remove the Wholesale portion 


of his Business to the City, it is requested that all Country Orders may bs 
addressed to 22, Ludgate-Street, where the Town Trade will be supplied. | 


Printed by Wint1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


THE PHNNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 











PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[JuLY 20, 1833. 





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[ View of the Castalian Fountain. | 


Mounr Parnassus, the city of Delphi, and the Castalian 
fountain are among the objects which ancient poetry 
has most delighted to consecrate. 

As the abode of the Muses and Graces, as the shrine 
of Apollo, and the seat of the most famous of all oracles, 
as the source of poetical inspiration, the mountain, the 
city, and the stream, were endowed with all the charms 
that the fertile imagination of the susceptible Greeks 
could conceive. ‘The poets of Rome, who were in most 
particulars followers of those of Greece, continued the 
samie homage and fervent adoration; and even now, 
when Greek polytheism has given way to the Christian 
faith, this spot still retains something of its wonted in- 
fluence. Phe bard still invokes the Muses from the sacred 
hill, honours the long deserted shrine of Apollo, and prays 
for the inspiring draughts of the Castalian fountain. 

Unlike many other parts of Greece to which poetry 
and a most poetical superstition attached themselves, this 


those who have read the most glowing descriptions of it 
left to us by the ancients. To this fact Mr. H. Raikes, 
who has published a tour through Beotia and Phocis, 
in Mr. Walpole’s Memoirs relating to European and 
Asiatic Turkey, Sir John Cam Hobnouse, Lord Byron, 
and nearly every other explorer of Greece have borne 
testimony. 

Parnassus rises in Phocis and extends as a chain of 
mountains far to the north; at its southern extremity 
it terminates in a lofty mass, or two partially detaches 
masses of rock. This was the portion that more exclu- 
sively claimed the honours of the sacred mount. In the 
chasm between the two rocks is the source of the Castaila, 
whose sparkling waters descend through the gloomy 
abyss. Beneath these dissevered masses on a shelving 
platform, surrounded on three sides by precipices, once 
stood the city of Delphi, enriched by the most numerous 
and inestimable treasures of ancient art, though now 


peculiar district does not disappoint the expectation of | nothing exists there but a wretched village called Castn. 


Vou. IU. 


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The chasm through wnich descend the “ Castalian 
dews” is thus described by Sir John Hobhouse: “ From 
this spot (Castri) we descended gradually towards the 
east, aud leaving the town, in half a quarter of a mile 
found ourselves in a position, where, turnmg suddenly 
to our left, we saw an immense cleft rending the moun- 
tain from the clouds down to our feet. Down the crags 
of this chasm, the stream trickled into a stone basin 
sunk in the earth just above the path, overflowing whose 
margin, and enlarged in its progress by other rills, it 
was seen falling over the rocks into the valley beneath.” 
We may add, that after its descent into the valley, the 
Castalian waters presently flow into the rocky bed of the 
Pleistus and augment that river. 

Close to the stone basin sunk in the earth there is an 
excavation, like a bath, cut in the rock; and in the face 
of the precipice, just above this excavation, is a large niche 
made anciently for the receptacle of some votive offering, 
“ which,” says Mr. Hughes, “ has been turned into a 
Lilliputian chapel dedicated to Saint John, and adorned 
with an altar, before which a lamp is constantly kept 
burning.” 


Sir John Hobhouse found within this chapel part of 


the shaft of a large finted pillar of marble and a marble 
slab. A few other ancient fragments and half-defaced 
inscriptions lay scattered and neglected in the vicmity of 
the basin. 

Ascending the chasm by the side of the falling rivulet, 
which the traveller can do by means of grooves cut in 
the rock, though they are now almost cbliterated by the 
continual dripping of the water, le 1s pretty sure to 
scare away a uumber of majestic eagles who have their 
acries on the lofty precipices above his head, and after 
clambering about one hundred yards, counting from the 
Chapel of Saint John, he reaches the origin of the 
stream. The Castalian fount is small indeed, but its 
waters are sparkling and as clear as crystal, and to the 
taste, pure, light, and delicious. 

“ On the rocks of Delphi” (above the Castalia), says 
Doctor Sibthorpe, “ I observed some curious plants; a 
new species of Daphne, which I have called Daphne 
Castaliensis, afforded ie singular pleasure. Several 
birds, the Aves rupestres, inhabited these rocks; a species 
of Sitta different from the Europea, the Promethean 
vulture, the solitary sparrow, the sand-martin, the rock- 
pigeon, a small species of hawk, and numerous jack- 
das. 

From the summit of Parnassus, high above the fount 
of Castalia, Dr. Sibthorpe* informs us he commanded 
‘a most extensive view of the sea of Corinth, the moun- 
tains of the Morea on the one hand, and the fertile plains 
of Boootia on the other, of Attica, and the island of 
Einubeea.” We do not find the elevation of the mountain 
any where accurately mentioned ; it is roug@hly given in 
several books at S000 or 9000 feet. ‘The distinguished 
naturalist from whom we have lust quoted, informs us 
that among the numerous curious plants he collected on 
the mountain, few could strictly be called Alpine; and 
that those of the highest region of all could be regarded 
only as sub-Alpine. Whilst he reposed on the mountain- 
top an eagle hovered over his head, and the Cornix 
eraculus, the Cornish chough, flew frequent among the 
rocks. 

At the foot of this terminating mass of the Parnassian 
mount, and round about Castri, there are still sufficient 
ruins, according to Dr. Clarke, by which to trace out the 
ancient Delphi. ‘ There is enough, indeed, remaining,” 
says this traveller, ‘‘to enable a skilful architect to form 
an accurate plan of Delphi: but it should be fitted to 
a mecdel of Parnassus; for in the harmonious adjust- 
ment which was here conspicuous of the works of God 


* Walpole’s Memoirs on Turkey, where the notes are published 
from the original MSS. of Professor Sibthorpe, who did not live to 


complete and bring out his work, the fruit of long travel and patient 
investigation, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


[Jury 20, 


and man, every stately edifice and majestic pile con- 
structed by human labour were made to form a part of 
the awful features of the monntain ; and from whatever 
quarter Delphi was approached a certain solemn impres- 
sion of supernatural agency must have been excited, 
diffusing its influence over every object; so that the 
sanctity of the whole district became a saying throughout 
Greece, and * ALL PARNASSUS WAS ACCOUNTED HOLY. _ 

Mr. Cockerell, the architect, has attempted on the spot 
to give with his pencil a restoration of the City of the 
Oracle as suggested by Dr. Clarke. 

‘To say a few more words of Castahta, ihe more imme- 
diate subject of this short article,—it is, like all the other 
sacred streams of Greece, sadly degraded. At the time 
of Dr. Sibthorpe’s visit, the only nse the modern Del- 
phiais, the inhabitants of Castri, nade of 1t was to season 
their casks; some barrels and other rubbish served to 
choke up and interrupt its source 5 and when Mr. Hughes 
was there “instead of Muses and Graces he found only a 
set of coarse-featured Albanian girls washing dirty linen 
therein.” 

The place, however, will still be replete with interest 
to the informed and feeling mind :— 


“Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot, ’ 
And thou, the Muses’ seat, art now their grave, 
Some gentle spirit still pervades the spot, 
Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the cave, 
Aud ghdes with glassy foot o’er yon melodious wave*.”’ 

A. detailed account of the Pythian games which were 
celebrated with all the magnificence of that age ;—of the 
temple and oracle of Delphi, to which the ancient city 
owed its rise and vast importance ;—of the delusions 
practised by the priesthood and their instruments on a 
credulous and easily-excited people, will be found in the 
imaginary travels of Anarcharsis by Barthelemy, who 
has drawn up his description upon the authority of 
Pausanias, Plutarch, Strabo, and a variety of other ancient 
writers. 

Of all the caverns and grottoes that penetrate the 
flanks of Parnassus in the neighbourhood of the oracular 
city, the Corycian, or the cave of the Nymphs, is by far 
the most beautiful. ‘“ Whe narrow and low entrance of 
this cave,’ says Mr. Raikes, “ spread at once into a 
chamber three hundred and thirty feet long by nearly 
two hundred wide; the stalactites from the top hung in 
the most graceful forms the whole length of the roof, 
and fell, like drapery, down the sides. ‘The depths of 
the folds were so vast, and the masses thus suspended in 
the air were so great, that the relief and fulness of these 
natnral hangings were as complete as the fancy could 
have wished. ‘They were not like concretions or encrus- 
tations, mere coverings of the rock; they were the gradual 
erowth of ages, disposed in the most simple and majestic 
forms, and so rich and large, as to accord with the size 
and loftiness of the cavern. The stalagmites below aud 
on the sides of the chamber were still more fantastic in 
their forms than the pendants above, and struck the eye 
with the fancied resemblance of vast human figures. 
At the end of this great vault a marrow passage leads 
down a wet slope of a rock; with some difficulty I went 
a considerable way on, until I came to a place where the 
descent grew very steep, and imy light being nearly 
exhausted, it seemed best toreturn. * * ™ * ‘The 
stalagmitic formations on the entrance of this second 
passage are wild as imagination can conceive, and of the 
most brilliant whiteness. It would not require a fancy, 
lively, like that of the ancient Greeks, to assign this 
beautiful grotto as a residence to the Nymphs. ‘The 
stillness which reigns through it, only broken by the 
eentle sound of the water, which drops from the points 
of the stalactites, the dim light admitted by its narrow 
entrance, and reflected by the white ribs of the roof, 
with all the miraculous decorations of the interior, would 
impress the most insensible with feelings of awe, and 

* Lord Byron, Childe Harold, canto 1, st. Jxi. 


\ 
4 


1833.] 


lead him to attribute the influence of the scene to the 
presence of some supernatural being. 

‘ An inscription, which still remains ona mass of rock, 
near the entrance, marks that the cavern has been 
dedicated to Pan and the Nymphs.” 





THE FALLS OF TROLHATTA, NEAR THE VIL- 
LAGE OF LILLA EDET, IN SWEDEN. 


A cataract or fall of water in a river has always ren- 
dered navigation difficult, and, indeed, when the fall is at 
all considerable, altogether impracticable. 

Inthe latter case we are not aware that the diffienlty 
has been overcome in any other country than Sweden, 
aud we proceed to describe the place where it occurs 
from the very interesting Travels of Sir Arthur de Capell 
Brooke *, who has attentively examined a considerable 
portion of the north of :urope. 

‘Villa Edet is a small village, rendered highly pic- 
turesque by the falls of the Gétha, which give, on a 
reduced scale, a representation of what is so magnificently 
enlarged at Trolhitta. Within a few miles of the latter, 
the sinall but beautiful lake Treuning burst upon our 
view through an amphitheatre of surrounding woods, in 
which the pleasing uotes of the enckoo for the first time 
struck our ear; and our little steeds pursuing their way 
with renewed vigour, in the evening we approached 
Tralhiitta. On descending the hill we discerned, yet at 


some distance, the contention of its boiling waters, by. 


their spray forming a thick cloud of mist, which floated 
above it tinged by the rays of the declining sun. Hasten- 
ing forward with increased curiosity, we soon arrived, 
aud hurrying to the spot with mixed feelings of astonish- 
ment and admiration surveyed the scene. ‘The whole 
waters of the Gétha tumble here with fearful roarings 
down steep declivities among the rocks below; the sides 
are surrounded by precipices rising to a great height, 
thinly clad with strageling pines. Before arriving at the 
cataracts, the river elides on smoothly, and clear as 
crystal; in its descent it forms four principal falls, the 
perpendicular height of which, taken together, is about 
one hundred and ten feet. They are seen perhaps to 
the best advantage at the distance of half a mile below, 
on the height near the river, where a bird’s-cye view is 
cbtained of the cataracts rushing headloug towards you 
enveloped in foam and spray. ‘That the navigation of the 
river may not be obstructed, locks with slices like those 
on navigable canals have been cut in the solid rock with 
incredible pain and labour, through which vessels are 
lowered to the level of the river below the falls, pursuing 
their course with ease, and affording a striking proof, 
that there are few obstacles, however great, that cannot be 
surmounted by the ingennity and perseverance of man.” 

The locks, with sluices, mentioned by Sir A. Brooke, 
exist on what is really a canal, it being a passage cut 
through a solid rock of granite. It is two miles long 
and one hundred and fifty feet high. This difficult 
work, after many unsuccessful plans and attempts, was 
at leneth completed at the beeinning of the present 
century by a private company. ‘The year after its com- 
pletion one thousand three hundred and eiglity ships of 
Various sizes, With cargoes of corn, herrings, iron, timber, 
&c. passed through this canal. 





Method of pressing Ow in Corfu.—The manufacture of 
oil is the principal, and the machines employed in it are 
the rudest possible. The olives are pressed under a perpen- 
dicular stone wheel, which revolves in a large-sized horizontal 
stone of a circular form, somewhat hollowed in the centre. 
A. horse or mule sets the machinery in motion, and a peasant 
runs before and shovels the olives under the approaching 
whieel, the action of which is necessanly confined to a 
limited space, while its power is very insignificant. The 


* Travels through Sweden, Norway, and Finmark, to the North 
Cape; 1 vol. 4to, 1831. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. o7s 


bruised mass is then transferred to a bag made of rushes or 
mat, which is subjected to a heavy pressure; this pressure is 
increased by means of a screw, wrought by two men at 
irregular intervals; for the labour is so violent that they 
cannot possibly continue long at it. They ship two strong 
bars, after the manner of a capstan, and then, with a most 
savage yell, they urge them forward by a simultaneous dart, 
the effect of which is marked by a quantity of oil oozing 
through the mat, end falling into a hole cut in the ground 
for its reception. After an interval of forty or fifty seconds, 
the labourers dart forward again with similar violence, and 
with a bodily effort which must strain their whole frame. 
The quantity of oil that two expert labourers can express In 
a day is estimated at ten or twelve jars of rather more than 
four gallons each.—Hennen's Medical Topography of che 
Mediterranean. , 


Letter of John Hunter.— Amongst his papers is a curious 
note to William Hunter from his brother John, which tt may 
not be out of place to give here, as it (‘lustrates one feature 
of the character of that extraordinary man. 


Dear Broruer, 


The bearer is very desirous of having your opinion. I do 
not know his case. He has no money, and you don’t want any, 
so that you are well met. 

4 ” 
Jermyn Street, Saturday. Ever yours, 
Joun Hunter, 


—Wardrop's Life of Dr. Baillie. 


THE HAMLET, 
AN ODE: BY DR. WARTON. 


Tue hinds how blest, who ne’er beguiled 
To quit their hamlet’s hawthorn wild, 
Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, 
For splendid care, and guilty gain! 


When morning’s twilight-tinctured beam 
Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam, 
They rove abroad in ether blue, 

To dip the scythe im fragrant dew; 

The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, 

That nodding shades a craggy dell. 


Midst gloomy glades, in warbles clear, 
Wild nature’s sweetest notes they hear < 
On ereen untrodden banks. they view 

The hyacinth’s neglected hne : 

In their lone haunts, and woodland rounds, 
They spy the squirrel’s airy bounds ; 

And startle from her ashen spray, 

Across the glen, the sereaming Jay: 

Each native charm their steps explore 

Of Solitude’s sequester’d store. 


For them the moon with cloudless ray 
Mounts, to illume their homeward way: 
Their weary spirits to relieve, 

The mea:ows incense breathe at eve. 

No riot mars the sunple fare, 

That o'er a glimmering hearth they share: 
But when the curfew’s measured roar 
Duly, the darkening valleys o’er, 

Has echoed from the distant town, 
They wish no beds of cyguet-down, 

No trophied canopies, to close 

Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 


Their little sons, who spread the bloom 
Of health around the clay-built room, 
Or through the primrosed coppice stray, 
Or gambol in the new-mown hay ; 

Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, 

Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 

Or hasten from the sultry hill, 

To loiter at the shady rill; 

Or climb the tall pine’s gloomy crest, 
To rob the raven’s ancient nest. 


Their humble porch with honcy’d flowers 
The curling woodbine’s shade embowers : 
From the small garden’s thymy mound 
Their bees in busy swarms resound: 

Nor fell Disease, before his time, 

Hastes to consume life’s golden prime: 
But when their temples long have wore 
Tne silver crown of tresses hoar; 

As studious still calm peace to keep, 
Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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{ View of Tintern Abbey.} 


One of the most beautiful of our British rivers is the 
Wy or Wye, which, during a considerable part of its 
course, forms the boundary between Gloucestershire and 
Monmouthshire, and finally pours its waters into the 
estuary of the Severn. ‘Lhe banks of the Wye are for 
the most part steep and wooded to the water’s edge ; 
but where the high ground, as is occasionally the case, 
is removed to a little distance, low pastoral meadows 
occupy the interval, and finely relieve with their softer 
and more quict beauty the hilly and dark-coloured land- 
scape with which they are interspersed. In one of these 
sheltered vales, about nine miles south from Monmouth, 
and close to the water, on the right or western bank, 
stands the ruin of Tintern Abbey. This religious house 
was founded in 113] by Walter de Clare, grandson of 
Walter Fitzosbert, Earl of Ew, by whom it was dedi- 
cated to the Virgin Mary. It was filled by a colony of 
Cistercians, or White Monks, as they were popularly 


called, a branch of the great order of the Benedictines. 
The Cistercians made their first appearance in Mneland 
about the year 1128, when they established themselves 
at Waverley in Surrey; but having once obtained a 
footing in the country, they spread rapidiy. In the 26th 
year of Henry VILL. the number of Cistercian abbeys in 
England amounted to seventy-five, of which thirty-six 
were included amone the greater monastenes. There 
were also twenty-six nunneries of this rule. Of the 
Cistercian abbeys, that of Tintern appears, from the date 
of its foundation already given, to have been one of the 
oldest. It does not seem, however, to have been remark- 
able in the Catholic times, either for the number of its 
inmates or the extent of its possessions. At the dissolu- 
tion it contained only thirteen monks, and its renta. 
according to Dnedale, amounted to no more than 
£132. 1s. 4d., although Speed makes it to have been 
£256. Ils. 6d. After the Reformation the place was 


1833.] 


granted by the Crown to Henry, the second Earl of 
Worcester, the ancestor of the present Duke of Beaufort, 
whose property it now is. 

The church, of which chiefly the existing ruins are the 
remnant, appears to have been erected some time after 
the foundation of the monastery. It is stated by William 
of Worcester that the monks celebrated their first mass 
in their new ehureh in October, 1268; but it has been 
conjectured that even then only part of the building could 
have been erected. It was probably finished, however, 
in the course of the thirteenth or in the early part of the 
fourteenth eeatury. 

Arehdeaeon Coxe, in his ‘ Historical Tour through 
Monmouthshire, illustrated with views by Sir R. C. 
Hoare, Bart.’ (4to. London, 1801), has given so com- 
plete and ably written an account of this ruin from per- 
sonal inspection, that we will extract the greater part of 
his description, which will be found to be applicable in 
nearly all its parts to the present appearance of the 
abbey. 

“ We disembarked about half a mile above the village 
of Tintern, and followed the sinuous course of the Wye. 
As we advanced to the village, we passed some pic- 
turesque ruins hanging over the edge of the water, 
which are supposed to have formed part of the abbot’s 
villa, and other buildings occupied by the monks; some 
of these remains are converted into dwellings and cot- 
tages, others are interspersed among the iron founderies 
and habitations. 

“The first appearance of the celebrated remains of 
the abbey-ehurch did not equal my expectations, as they 
are half eoncealed by mean buildings, and the triangular 
shape of the gable ends has a formal appearanee. 

“ After passing a miserable row of cottages, and 
forcing our way through a erowd of importunate begears, 
we stopped to examine the rich architecture of the west 
front; but the door being suddenly opened, the inside 
perspective of the church called forth an instantaneous 
burst of admiration, and filled me with delieht, such as 
I scarcely ever before experienced on a similar oceasion. 
The eye passes rapidly along a range of elegant Gothic 
pulars, and, glancing under the sublime arches which 
supported the tower, fixes itself on the splendid relies of 
the eastern window, the grand termination of the choir. 

“From the length of the nave, the height of the walls, 
the aspiring form of the pointed arches, and the size of 
the east window, whieh closes the perspective, the first 
lmpressious are those of grandeur and sublimity. But 
as these emotions subside, and we descend from the 
contemplation of the whole to the examination of the 
parts, we are no less struck with the rewularity of the 
plan, the lightness of the arehitecture, and the delicacy 
of the ornaments; we feel that elegance is its charac- 
teristic no less than grandeur, and that the whole is a 
combination of the beautiful and the sublime. 

“The ehureh was construeted in the shape of a 
cathedral, and is an excellent specimen of Gothic archi- 
tecture in its greatest purity. The roof is fallen in, and 
the whole ruin Open to the sky, but the shell is entire ; 
all the pillars are standing, except those which divided 
the nave from the northern aisle, and their situation is 
marked by the remains of the bases. The four lofty 
arches which supported the tower, spring hich in the 
air, reduced to narrow rims of stone, yet still preserving 

their original form. ‘The arches and pillars of the choir 
aud transept are complete; the shapes of all the win- 
dows may be still discriminated, and the frame of the 
West window is in perfect preservation; the design of 
the traeery is extremely elerant, and when deeorated 
with painted glass, must have produced a fine effect. 
Critics who censure this window as too broad for its 
height, do not consider that it was not intended for a 
particular object, but to harmonize with the general 


plan; and had the architect diminished the breadth, in | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


277 


proportion to the height, the grand effect of the perspec- 
tive would have been considerably lessened. 

“The general form of the east window js entire, but 
the frame is much dilapidated ; it oecupies the whole 
breadth of the choir, and is divided into two laree and 
equal compartments, by a slender shaft, not less than 
fifty feet in height, which has an appearance of singular 
lightness, and in particular points of view seems sus- 
pended in the air. 

“ Nature has added her ornaments to the decorations 
of art; some of the windows are wholly obscured, others 
partially shaded with tufts of ivy, or edged with lichter 
foliage ; the tendrils creep along the walls, wind round 
the pillars, wreath the capitals, or hauging down in 
clusters obscure the space beneath. _ 

“Instead of dilapidated fragments overspread with 
weeds and choked with brambles, the floor is covered with 
a smooth turf, whieh by keeping the original level of the 
church, exhibits the beauty of its proportions, heiohtens 
the effect of the grey stone, gives a relief to the clustered 
pillars, and affords an easy aecess to every part. Orna- 
mented fragments of the roof, remains of cormices and 
columns, rieh pieces of sculpture, sepulchral stones and 
mutilated figures of nonks and heroes, whose ashes repose 
within these walls, are scattered on the ereen sward, and 
contrast present desolation with former splendour. 

“ Although the exterior appearance of the ruins is not 
equal to the inside view, yet in some positious, particularly 
to the east, they present themselves with considerable 
eflect. While Sir Riehard Hoare was employed in 
sketchine the north-western side, I crossed the ferry, 
and walked down the stream about half a mile. From 
this point the ruins, assuming a new character, seem to 
occupy a gentle eminenee, and impend over the river 
without the intervention of a single cdttage to obstruet 
the view. The grand east window, wholly covered with 
shrubs, and half mantled with ivy, rises like the portal 
of a majestic edifice embowered in wood. Thronesh this 
opening and along the vista of the elureh, the clusters 
ofivy, whieh twine round the pillars or hang suspended 
froin the arehes, resemble tufts of trees; while the thick 
mantle of foliage, seen through the traeery of the west 
window, forms a continuation of the perspective, and 
appears like an interminable forest.” 

The different picturesque views whieh adorn the banks 
of the Wye, and especially Tintern Abbey, have been 
deseribed or celebrated by a profusion of writers both 
in prose and verse. Grose’s English Antiquities, Ire- 
land's Picturesque Views on the Wye, Whateley’s Orna- 
mental Gardening, and Gilpin’s Observations on the 
River Wye, relative chiefly to picturesque beauty (1759), 
may all be consulted with advantage. Among: our poets, 
the abbey has been noticed by Mason, 2nd a poem, 
entitled ‘The Banks of the Wye,’ appeared some years 
ago from the pen of Robert Bloomfield. But this 
scene has now been long endeared to all the lovers of 
song by Wordsworth’s ‘ Lines composed a few miles 
above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the banks of the 
Wye during a tour;’ dated July 13th, 1798, and first 
published in the ‘ Lyrieal Ballads.’ It would be to in- 
jure the poem to give only an extract from it » but we 
may probably take an opportunity of laying it entire 
before our readers in an early number of the Magazine. 


ON THE PRONOUNS USED IN ADDRESSING 
PERSONS. 


Ir is a curious fact, that in the languages of modern 
Europe the pronoun of the second person sineular— 
‘thou’—is almost banished from polite conversation, and 
in many instances the use of this natural aud imocent 
word would subject the speaker to the imputation of 
eross ignorance, or intentional rudeness. Nay more; 
in some languages the word which corresponds to our 


218 


‘von’ is also uncourtly ; and a foreigner might be thought 
absurdly familiar, who was merely misled by his dic- 
tionary and erammar, into a literal translation of the 
most polite pronoun of his native tongue. We will illus- 
trate these observations by showing the usage of these 
words in four of the principal languages of Europe. 

In English the pronoun ‘thou’ may be considered as 
nearly obsolete in colloquial language, being confined to 
the rustics of the remoter counties, and the Society of 
Friends; it cannot therefore with us be considered as a 
mark of tenderness or familiarity, but rather a solemn 
word, appropriated to the highest style of composition. 
Some centuries since, however, it was still a mark of 
familiarity, and as such was deeply resented by those 
who supposed that their station in society merited the 
superior pronoun :— 


“ Avaunt caitiff, dost thou thou me ? 
I am come of good kin,” 


says a character in the old morality of Hicke-Scorner., . 

In France the pronoun tw (thou) is much more ex- 
tensively employed; it is the token of love and friend- 
ship, and is used by parents to their children, and by 
schoolfellows to each other; in fact, wherever uncere- 
monious fondness is intended to prevail, ‘tu’ necessarily 
comes in; vous (you) is used in the ordinary intercourse 
of society. 

Let us cross the Alps, and we find that another dis- 
tinction has gained ground. In Italy ¢free pronouns 
are made use of, tu (thon), vot (yon), and lez (she or 
her). Perhaps it may be sufficient to say that the use 
of ‘tu’ denotes familiarity with fondness, ‘ voi’ familiarity 
without fondness, and ‘lei’ respect. 
the latter pronouns that an Englishman would be misled 
by his grammar, and for the following reason. ‘he 
most popular Italian grammar used in this country ts 
translated from one written by Veneroni, Italian secretary 
to Louis XILV.; and as in the edition of this grammar, 
printed at London in the year 1831, we are taught how 
to direct one letter to the Archbishop of Cologne, Elec- 
toral Prince of the Holy Roman Empire, and another 
letter to a Counsellor of the Parliameut of. Paris (offices 
which have ceased), so we are instricted in the majority 
of the dialogues to use ‘ voi’ instead of ‘lei; or, in other 
words, to use a mode of speaking, which though per- 
fectly polite in the year 1700, is unbearably rude at the 
present day. 

In Gerinany an additional nicety has gained ground, 
for there four pronouns are used, namely, Du, thr, 
er, or sie, in the singular, and sie in the plural—and 
all in addressing one single person. ‘ Du, like the 
corresponding pronouns in France and Italy, 1s appro- 
priated to love and intimacy. ‘“ Children,” says Dr. 
Noehden, ‘‘are sometimes allowed to speak to their 
parents m the same manner; though in general the 
third person plural, ‘sie, is preferred, as moye respectful. 
Lastly, ‘du’ is the reverse of ceremonious politeness, and 
thus it is applied where particular distinctions are laid 
aside. ‘Therefore, itis commonly made use of in speaking 
to very little children, and to persons in very subordinate 
situations ; for example, by the officer to lis soldiers. 
It is often heard in quarrels and opprebrious language, 
when the considerations of decorum and propriety are 
disrerarded. All these significations may be reduced to 
the notion of familiarity, differently qualified. See a 
charming passage in Schiller's Don Carlos, at the end of 
the hrst act—i mean in the original ; for the translations 
give but a faint and imperfect idea. It begins thus:— 


‘Und jetzt noch eine bitte, lieber—-Nenne mich du—u. 8. w.’ 
And now one more request, my dearest friend—Do call me 
thou, &c. 


x ' " ° e ° 
The word ihr, or you, is now rarely used in addressing’ 
one person, and is by no means elegant or polite; in the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


It is in the use of! 


the chief tract is named Mar de Zargasso, 


[Jury 20, 


earliest ages of the German empire, however, we are 
assured by Adelung, it was far otherwise, and it was 
applied to persons of rank ; and even now the kindred 
adjective euer (abbreviated ew.) still retains its station. 
The vulgar phrases ‘ Ein pferd oder ein kleid das ihr 
heisst’—A horse or a coat that is called you, 1.e. that is 
excellent, still shadow forth the long-lost reputation of 
the degraded ‘ ihr.’ 

‘ Since the plural of the third personal was adopted, 
as the polite mode of address, the singular has been 
reserved for the lower stations of life: namely, Er, he, 
for a male; and sie, she, for a female. In this manner 
the master and mistress address their servants. hus a 
person of rank, in the consciousness of his preeminence, 
will speak to tradespeople, and the prince to his sub- 
jects. Yet those persons frequently forget the com- 
parative height on which they stand, and are carried 
along the stream of general politeness. ‘Servants, how- 
ever, are seldom spoken to in any other way than the 
sincular of the third personal: also those in a mean 
situation, such as common handicraftsmen, peasants, 
labourers, and others.”—Noehden’s German Grammar, 
4th edit. p. 207. 

Sie, or they, is the pronoun used on all ordinary 
occasions, and almost the only method of address that the 
mere traveller in Germany has occasion to employ. 

Much more might have been said upon this snbject, 
and it might have been illustrated by quotations from 
ancient and modern anthors in the above-mentioned 
languages, 





Rapid Improvement of London.—I went to England 
again on ashortvisit in 1829. An interval of but four years 
had elapsed; yet I was amazed at the increase of London. 
The Regent's Park, which, when I first knew the west end 
of the town, disclosed nothing but lawns and fields, was now 
a city. You saw long rows of lofty buildings, in their out- 
ward aspect magnificent. On this whole space was set down 
2 population of probably not less than fifty or sixty thousand 
souls. Another city, hardly smaller, seemed to have sprung 
up in the neighbourhood of St. Pancras Church and the 
London University. Belgrave Square, in an opposite region, 
broke upon me with like surprise. The road from West- 
minster Bridge to Greenwich exhibited for several mules 
compact ranges of new houses. Finchley Common, desolate 
in 1819, was covered with neat cottages, and indeed villages. 
In whatever direction I went, indications were similar. I 
say nothing of Carlton Terrace, for Carlton House was gone, 
or of the street, of two miles, from that point to Park Crescent, 
surpassing any other in ‘London, or any that I saw in Europe. 
To make room for this new and spacious street, old ones had 
been pulled down, of which no vestige remained. I could 
scarcely, but for the evidence of the senses, have believed it 
all. The historian of the Decline and Fall of the Roman 
Empire remarks, that the description, composed in the 
Theodosian age, of the many stately mansions in Rome, 
might almost excuse the exaggeration of the poet; that 
Rome contained a multitude of palaces, and that each palace 
was equal to a city. Is the British metropolis advancing to 
this destiny >—Rush's Residence at the Court of London. 





Sea-weed Banks——The Sargassum vulgare, the tropic 
grape of sailors, and the J*ucus natans of the older writers, is 
worthy attention, not only from its wandering habits, quitting 
as it does the submarine soil to which it probably in its early 
stages is attached, but also for the astonishing profusion in 
which it so frequently is found. It only grows within forty 
degrees of latitude on either side of the equator, but currents 
often cast it on our coast. It is a remarkable circumstance 
in the history of this plant, that it is chiefly local 1n its posi- 
tion, even when detached, forming two great banks, one of 
which is usually crossed by vessels homeward bound from 
Monte Video, or the Cape of Good Hope; and so constant 
are they in their places, that they assist the Spanish pilots to 
rectify their longitude. It is probable that these banks were 
known to the Pheenicians, who in thirty days’ sail with an 
easterly wind, came into what they called the “ Weedy Sea;” 
and to the present day, by the Spaniards and Portuguese, 
it was the 


1833.] 


entering of such ficlds of fucus as these that struck so much 
terror into the minds of the first discoverers of America; for 
sailing tardily through extensive meadows for days together, 
the sailors of Columbus superstitiously believed that the 
hinderance was desigwed by heaven to stay their adventurous 
course: hence they wildly urged thelr commander to proceed 
no further, declaring that through the banks thus woven by 
nature, it would be presumptuous impiety to force a way.— 
Burnett's Outlines of botany. 


' Phosphorescent Lichens.-—Several species, especially szb- 

corticalis, subterranea, and phosphorea, are occasionally 
phosphorescent, and more or less luminous in the dark ; and 
hence they often give to the cellars and mines in which they 
grow an extraordinary and brilliant appearance. In the 
coal mines in the vicinity of Dresden they are said to be so 
abundant and so luminous, as even to dazzle the eye by the 
brilhant light that they afford. This light is increased by 
the warmth of the mines; so that, hanging in festoons 
and pendents from the roof of the various excavations, 
twisting round the pillars, and covering the walls, they 
are said, by their brightness, to give to the Dresden coal 
mimes, in which they abound, the semblance of oan 
enchanted palace. Mr. Erdman, the commissioner of 
‘mines, thus describes the appearance of the Rhizomorphze 
in one he visited :—* [I saw the luminous plants here in 
wonderful beauty; the impression produced by the 
spectacle I shall never forget. It appeared, on descending 
into the mine, as if we were entering an enchanted castle. 
Lhe abundance of these plants was so great, that the roof, 
and the walls, and the pillars, were entirely covered with 
them, and the beautiful light they cast around almost daz- 
zled the eye. ‘The light they give out is like faint moon- 
shine, so that two persons near each other could readily 
distinguish their bodies. The lights appear to be most con- 
siderable when the temperature of the mines is comparatively 
high.” —Burnett's Outlines of Botany | 





BIRDS AND INSECTS. 


THERE cannot be any question of the immense number 
of insects required by birds during the breeding season. 
It is stated by Bingley, that a pair of small American 
birds, conjectured to be the house-wren, were observed 
to leave the nest and return with insects from forty to 
sixty times in an hour, and that in one particular hour, 
they carried food no fewer than seventy-one times. In 
this business they were engaged during the greatest part 
of the day. Allowing twelve hours to be thus occupied, 
a single pair of these birds would destroy at least six 
hundred insects in the course of one days; on the sup- 
position that the two birds took only a single insect 
each timc. But it is highly probable that they often 
took more. 

Looking at the matter in this point of view, the 
destruction of insectivorous birds has in some cases 
been considered as productive of serious mischief. One 
striking instance we distinctly recollect, though we cannot 
at this moment turn to the book in which it is recorded. 
Lhe numbers of the crows or rooks of North America 
were, in consequence of state rewards for their destruc- 
tion, so much diminished, and the increase of insects so 
great, 2s to induce the state to announce a counter re- 
ward for the protection of the crows. Such rewards are 
common in America; and from a document given by 
Wilson, respectiug a proposal made in Delaware “ for 
banishing or destroying the crows,” it appears that the 
money thus expended sometimes amounts to no ineon- 
siderable sum. ‘The document concludes by sayine, 
“The sum of five hundred dollars being thus required, 
the committce beg leave to address the farmers and others 
of Newcastle county and elsewhere on the subject.” 

From its sometimes eating grain and other seeds, “ the 
rook,” says Selby, ‘ has erroneously been viewed in the 
light of an enemy by most husbandmen; and in several 
districts attempts have been made either to banish it, or 
to extirpate the breed. But wherever this measure has 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE 279 


been carried into effect, the most serious myury to the 
corn and other crops has invariably followed, from the 
unchecked devastatious of the grub and caterpillar. As 
experience is the sure test of utility, a chanee of conduct 
has in consequence been partially adopted: and some 
farmers now find the cncouragement of the breed of 
rooks tobe greatly to their interest, in freeing their lands 
from the grub of the cockchafer, an insect very abundant 
in many of the southern counties. In Northumberland 
I have witnessed its usefulness in feeding on the larvie of 
the insect commonly known by the name of Harry Lone- 
legs, which is particularly destructive to the roots of grain 
and young clovers.” 

‘It has on similar grounds been contended, that the 
great number of birds caught by bird-catchers, particularly 
in the vicinity of London, has been productive of much 
injury to gardens and orchards. So serious has this evil 
appeared to some, that it has even becn proposcd to have 
an act of parliament prohibiting bird-catchers from exer- 
cising their art within twenty miles of the metropolis ; and 
also prohibiting wild birds of any kind from being shot or 
otherwise caught or destroyed within this distance, under 
certain penalties. It is very clear, however, that such 
an act could never be carried; and thoueh it might be 
advantageous to gardens, orchards, and farms, yet the 
attacks which the same birds make on fruit would pro- 
bably be an equivalent counterbalance. | 

In the case of swallows, on the other hand, it has been 
well remarked by an excellent naturalist (the Rev. W. 
T. Bree), that they are to us quite inoffensive, while ‘‘ the 
beneficial services they perform for us, by clearing the 
air of Inuumerable insects, ought to render them sacred 
and secure them from our molestation. Without their 
friendly aid the atmosphere we live in would scarcely be 


|habitable by man: they feed entirely on insects, which, 


if not kept under by their means, would swarm and 
torment us like another Egyptian plague. ‘The immense 
quantity of flies destroyed in a short space of time by one 
individual bird is scarcely to be credited by those who 
have not had actual experience of the fact.” He goes on 
to illustrate this from a swift, which was shot. ‘“ It was 
in the breeding season when the young were hatched ; 
at which time tlie parent birds, it is well known, are in 
the habit of making little excursions into the country to 
a considerable distance from their breeding places, for 
the purpose of collecting flies which they bring home to 
their infant progeny. On picking up my hapless and 
ill-gotten prey, I observed a number of flies, some muti- 
lated, others scarcely injured, crawling out of the bird’s 
mouth ; the throat and pouch seemed absolutely stuffed 
with them, and an incredible number was at leneth 
disgorged. I am sure I speak within compass when I 
state that there was a mass of flies, just caught by this 
single swift, larger than when pressed close, could con- 
veniently be contained in the bowl of an ordinary table- 
spoon. —fHabiis of Birds. Library of Enterlaining 
Knowledge. 





THE PELICAN. 


TuE wood-cut at the conclusion of this article represents 
a group of pelicans, drawn from specimens in the 
Zoological Gardens. ‘The bird is familiar to most per- 
sons; for it has long been a favourite of the showman, 
who sometimes astonishes his visitors by placing his 
lead under the large membrane, or bag, of the lower 
mandible, and then drawing it over his skull, like a cap. 
The showman is not only ready to perform this feat; 
but he delights to tell his audience those wonderful 
stories which are popularly associated with the history 
of the pelican, and which, indeed, have been as attractive 
to the old writers of natural history, and to the poets, as 
to the most credulous and uninstructed. N obody, per- 
haps, now believes that this singular bird feeds its young 
with its blood, although the pictures of the travelling 


2380 


menageries give us the most faithful representations of 


such a surprising circumstance; but there are many 


who consider that the use which the pelican makes of its 
creat bag, is to carry a provision of water to ifs young 


>? 
across the desert. The real history of the pelican contra- 


dicts these fancies ; they belong to poetry and romance, 
in which they may be beautifully employed. ‘The notion 
that the mother-bird carries water across the desert has 
been adorned with many curious details,—such as that 
she pours out the grateful supply into her rocky nest— 
that her young there bathe themselves—and that the 
beas!s of the forest instinctively seek out the spot, and 
having assuaged their thirst, leave the pelican family un- 
molested. Southey has told this story in his Thalaba :— 


« The desert pelican had built her nest 
In that deep solitude, 
Aud now, returned from distant flight, 
Traught with the nver stream, 
Ler load of water had disburthen’d there ; 
Her young in the refreshing bath 
DPipt down their callow heads, 
Fill’ the swolu membrane from their phumeless throat 
Pendant, and bills yet soft ; 
And buoyant with arclhid breast, 
Plied in unpractis’d stroke 
The oars of their broad feet. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3 UN 
ay 





[bury 20, 1938. 


They, as the spotted prowler of the wild 
Laps the cool wave, around their mother crowd, 
And nestle underneath her outspread wings. 
The spotted prowler of the wild 
Lapt the cool wave, and satiate, from the west, 
Guiltless of blood, withdrew.” 
Thalaba, book v. 


Pelicans are residents upon the banks of rivers and 
lakes, and upon the sea-coasts. They habitually feed on 
fish, although they will sometimes devour reptiles and 
small quadrupeds. ‘They are capable of rapid flight, 
and have an extraordinary power of ascending on high. 
This power is called into action by their mode of fishing. 
When they perceive, from their elevated position, a fish, 
or fishes, on the surface of the water, they dart down 
with inconceivable rapidity, and flapping their large 
wings so as to stun their prey, fill their pouches, and 
then retire to the shore to satisfy their voracious appe- 
tites. ‘The fish thus carried away in the pouch undergo 
a sort of maceration before they are received into the 
stomach ; and this grinding process renders the food fit 
for the young birds.. No doubt the sanguinary traces 
which this operation leaves upon the plumage of the 
mother, have given birth to the fable that she feeds her 
nesthnegs with her blood. . 


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[ Pelicans, from Specimens in the Gardens of the Zoological Society. | 


The pelicans, as well as the corvorants, sometimes rest 
perched upon the branches of trees; but they never 
build their nests in such a position. They always select 
a fracture of a rock, as near as possible to water. ‘The 
male and female both labour to construct this nest, 
which is laree and deep, and lined with moss and downy 
feathers. ‘lhe female lays from two to four eggs, upon 
which she sits with unwearied patience for forty-three 
days, receiving sustenance from the male during the whole 
time. The young birds are at first grey; but their 


feathers attain their splendid white colour after the third 
moultine, 


There are several species of pelican, of which the 


white, or common, bears the scientific name of Pelzcanus 
onocrotalus. They are found either in flocks, or singly, 
principally in Asia, Africa, and South America, and 








sometimes in the south of Europe. 
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is ‘at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STRIEKT, 


AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. ' 


a 4 
(Mn. Kwient having found it indispensable to remove the Wholesale portion 


of his Business to the City, it is requested that all Country Orders may be 
addressed to'22, Ludgate Street, where the Town Trade will be supplied.] 


Printed by Winriam CLowes, Duke Street, Tiambeth, 





OF THE 


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282 


Tux architectural antiquities of Normandy present ob-| 


jects of peculiar interest to the English traveller. From 
the period of the Conquest to the reign of Henry VI., 
Normandy and England were, with little interruption, 
under the same dominion; a continual intercourse was 
carried on by the people of each country; and hence 
there was a great similarity in the arts and customs of 
each, especially in their architecture. ‘This similarity is 
very marked in the earlier specimens of Gothic buildings 
which exist in the two countries, in which there is 
scarcely any difference that can be considered national. 
But after the separation of Normandy from the crown of 
England, our architecture began to exhibit many innova~- 
tions which are not to be found in the Norman edifices 
of the same period. ‘Thus the church of St. Maclou, 
which was erected as late as the year 1512, presents 
none of those more striking deviations from the style of the 
two preceding centuries which became common in Ene- 
land after the reion of Edward IV., and are distin- 
euished as the Tudor architecture. In this point of 
view the buildings of particular countries afford the 
most authentic monuments of their history, and thus 
possess an interest beyond the gratification which they 
afford by their beauty or vastness. 

The western front of the church of St. Maclou is re- 
markable for a porch of three arches, somewhat resem- 
bling the great entrance of Peterborough Cathedral. The 
carved doors of the church are amongst its most beautiful 
ornaments, They are the work of Jean Goujon, an artist 
of such eminence as to have been named the ‘ Corregio of 
Sculpture. The central tower of the church very nearly 
resembles that of the cathedral of Rouen, a work of much 
earlier date. Many parts of the interior have also this re- 
semblance. Indeed the general character of this church 
would lead the casual observer to refer the date of its 
erection to the fourteenth century ; but some peculiarities, 
such as the bosses of the groined roof, show to the anti- 
quary that it belongs to the French architecture of the 
sixteenth century. The central tower was formerly sur- 
mounted bya spire of singular beauty; but this was 
greatly damaged by a hurricane in 1705, and was taken 
down thirty years afterwards. 

The church of St. Maclou was not erected, as were 
most of the great Gothic buildings, out of royal or 
ecclesiastical resources. It was built by funds contri- 
buted by the people for the purchase of indulgences or 
permissions from the Archbishop of Rouen, to sin with- 
out penance, for forty and even a hundred days. The 
sale of indulgences at Rome was the principal exciting 
cause of that resistance to the Papal power which ended 
in the Reformation. 


A SETTLER’S CABIN IN SOUTH AFRICA. 


In former articles I have described our mode of tra- 
velling from the coast to the interior, the aspect of the 
olen allotted for our location, and our wars with the 
wild beasts with whom we had to contend for its pos- 
session. I shall now give a brief sketch of the first 
habitation which I erected on my own grounds, after 
our location had been subdivided, the united encamp- 
ment of the party broken up, and the several families 
removed to their respective allotments. 

The site which I selected for my residence was about 
three miles distant from my neighbours on either side ; 
Mr. Rennie being on tlie stream above me, and Captain 
Cameron below, with rocky heights and clumps of 
shrubbery intervening, I selected an open grassy mea- 
dow, with a steep mountain behind, and the small river 
in front, bordered by willow-trees and groves of the 
thorny acacia. It was a beautiful and secluded spot ; 
the encircling hills sprinkled over with evergreens, and 
the fertile meadow-ground clothed with rich pasture, 


and bounded by romantic cliffs crowned with aloes and. 


euphorbias, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Jury 27, 


As the hut I was about to erect was only intended for 
a temporary residence, I adopted, with some variations, 
the mode practised by the natives in constructing their 
simple habitation. Drawing a circle on the ground of 
about eighteen feet in diameter, I planted, upright round 


this circle, about twenty tall willow-poles; digeing, with 


an old bayonet, holes in the ground, just large enough 
to receive their thicker ends. I then planted a stouter 
pole exactly in the centre, and, drawing together the tops 
of the others, I bound them firmly to this central tree 
with thongs of quagga’s hide. With the same ligature 
pliant spars or saplings were bound round the circle of 
poles, at suitable intervals, from bottom {to top; and 
thus the wicker frame or skeleton of a cabin was com- 
pleted, exactly in the shape of a bee-hive or sugar-loaf. 
It was then thatched with reeds, the ends of the first 
layer being let about a couple of inches into the earth. 
Spaces were left for a door and a small window; but 
neither fire-place nor chimney formed part of our plan. 
A convenient door, to open in two halves, was soon con- 
structed of the boards of some packing cases; and a 
yard of thin cotton cloth stretched upon a wooden frame 
formed a suitable window. 

With the assistance of my Hottentot servants I then 
proceeded to plaster the interior to the height of about 
six feet. The plaster was formed of fresh cow-dung 
mixed with an equal portion of sand, a composition 
almost universally in use in the interior of tlie Cape 
Colony, where lime is scarce and expensive, and where, 
from the dryness of the climate, this substitute serves for 
every ordinary purpose almost equally well. When the 
plaster was dry, the whole was washed over with a sort 
of size, composed of pipe-clay and wood-ashes diluted 
with milk, forming a handsome and durable greyish 
stone colour. 

Thus secured externally, the next point was to lay a 
dry and firm floor below foot; and, in this, as in many 
other points, I thankfully received instruction from the 
Hottentots. Following their advice, I directed a dozen 
or two of large ant-hillocks, of which there were hundreds 
within view, to be broken up and brought into the hut, 
selecting those that had been previously pierced and 
sacked by the ant-eater, (aardvark,) and which were 
generally destitute of inhabitants. This material, from 
having been apparently cemented by the insect architects 
with some glutinous substance, forms, when pounded 
and sprinkled with water, a strong adhesive morfar, 
which only requires to be well kneaded with trampling 
feet for a few days in order to become a dry and compact 
pavement, almost as solid and impenetrable as stone 
or brick. on 

With the aid of my native assistants I had thus ob- 
tained a commodious African cabin, about eighteen feet 
in diameter, and nineteen feet high in the centre, In 
that serene and mild climate this was sufficient for 
shelter ; but for comfort something more was necessary. 
Except cooking utensils, travelling-trunks, and some 
cases of books, I had brought with me nothing in the 
shape of furniture; nor was it possible to procure any 
nearer than Graham’s Town, at the distance of 130 
miles; and even then, such was the scarcity or the idle- 
ness of the mechanics, that one might probably be 
obliged to wait twelve months for the execution of an 
order, besides paying an extravagant price for very com- 
mon articles. Luckily I had brought out a small assort- 
ment of carpenters’ tools, and was not altogether un- 
acquainted with the use of them ; for I had been, when a 
boy, particularly fond of observing mechanics at work, 
and of amusing myself by cabinet-making on a small 
scale. 

Diligently applying myself to the use of the hatchet, 
saw, and auger, and stimulated by necessity, ‘‘ the 
mother of invention,” I eontrived, in the course of a few 


| weeks, to have my little cabin commodiously and com- 


1833.] 


pletely furnished. First I partitioned off from the outer 
apartment a small bed-room, so contrived, that, by 
drawing a curtain or two, it could be lighted and venti- 
lated at pleasure. In this I constructed a bedstead ; 
the frame being formed of stout poles of wild olive from 
a neighbouring thicket, with the smooth shining bark 
left on them; and the bottom to support the mattress, 
consisting of a strong elastic net-work of thongs of bul- 
lock’s or quagea’s hide interlaced. With similar mate- 
rials I made a sofa for the outer apartment, which also 
gerved occasionally for a sleeping couch ; together with 
the frame of a table, (the top being of yellow-wood 
plank,) a few forms and stools; and lastly an arm chair, 
which I considered my chef-d’ceuvre. Not one of these, 
excepting the table, had the touch of a plane upon it. 
But they looked nothing the worse for that; and the 
cabin and its rude furniture had somewhat the aspect of 
a rustic summer house or grotto. My books, ranged 
high on a frame of spars over the bed-room, with a 
couple of firelocks slung in front, a lion’s and leopard’s 
skin or two stretched along the thatch above, with horns 
of antelopes and: other country spoils interspersed, com- 
pleted the appropriate decorations of my African cabin. 

A few huts, of a similar but still ruder construction, 
were erected behind my own for the accommodation of 
my native domestics and herdsmen, and for a store-room 
aud kitchen. When these and the folds for the flocks 
and herds were finished, the establishment was con- 
sidered, for the time, complete. ‘The work of inclosing, 
cultivating, and irrigating a portion of land for a gar- 
den, orchard, and corn crops was a task requiring mnch 
time and labour; but of which I shall now omit the 
details. 

Suffice it to say, that in this “ lodge in the vast wil- 
derness,” with no other inmates than my wife, and oc- 
casionally another female relative,—with only simple 
Hottentots for servants and dependents,—and in the 
midst of a wild region, haunted by beasts of prey, and 
occasionally by native banditti, (Bushmen and Caffre 
marauders from the eastern frontier,) I spent two years, 
which, though clouded by some disappointments and 
occasional privations, were, on the whiole, among the 
pleasantest of my life. ‘he disappointments we bore as 
we could; the privations we soon learned to laugh at. 
A specimen or two of the latter may serve to amuse the 
reader, and shall conclude my present sketch. 

After we had got a competent share of live stock on 
our farms, and had brought a portion of soil under cul- 
tivation, we ran no risk of wanting the necessaries of life. 
We killed our own beef and mutton; we had milk, but- 
ter, and cheese; we reared abundance of poultry; we 
cultivated with success, potatoes, pumpkins, melons, all 
the ordinary ésculent vegetables, and some not known 
in Enrope. We learned from our Dutch-African neigh- 
bours to make our own soap and candles, and to manu- 
facture from the skins of our sheep and goats, tanned 
with mimosa bark, excellent leather for jackets and 
trousers—and which supplied a sort of clothing well 
adapted for a country full of thorny trees and jungles. 
All that we had occasion to purchase, therefore, was a 
few luxuries—such as tea, coffee, sugar, wine, spices, 
&e. We usually got a sufficient quantity at.a time, 
from Cape Town, or Algoa Bay, to last us a considerable 
period; but once or twice our store being exhausted 
before the new supply arrived, we found ourselves en- 
tirely destitute of the most important of these articles, 
tea, coffee, and sugar. 

We were once subjected to a more serious privation. 
In the summer of 1822, we were visited by a severe 
drought, which endured for many months, and inflicted 
no small damage on our gardens and corn-fields. We 
had grain enough in store, however, and could dispense 
with fruit and vegetables. Butat length our little river 


ceased to flow; and although we had enongh of water | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


283 


in standing pools and fountains for ourselves and our 
cattle to drink, all the mills on the river being stopped 
for want of water, we conld not get our wheat round 
into Hour, and were soon left without bread. As all 
our neighbours were nearly in the same Situation, we 
could neither borrow nor purchase. Our Dutch-African 
neighbours and our Hottentot servants took the matter 
very quietly. ‘They could live very well on mutton and 
boiled corn, they said, for a month or two, till rain fel]. 
Indeed many of them in the arid country live entirely 
on animal food and milk, without either bread or vege- 
tables. But it was different with us: we felt the want 
of bread a grievous privation. For a week or two we 
made a shift to grind a daily supply with our coffee 
mill; but this at length also failed. ‘The iron handle 
was repeatedly broken; and though I had enough of 
smith’s craft to repair it twice, the third fracture was be- 
yond my skill; and we were then reduced to erind, or 
rather to bruise, our corn, by crushing a few grains at 
a time with a round stone upon a flat one. By this 
tedious process we procured a small cake or two daily ; 
and with this we were forced to content ourselves, until 
we could obtain a supply of flour from a distance. This 
was a real privation: but, after all, I must not forbear 
to add, that these same cakes, baked of coarse meal — 
ground between two stones, and occasionally of my own 
grinding, made the sweetest bread, I think, I ever 
tasted. DT. P. 


fEGIN A. 


‘Why need we say that Aigina is one of the most éele- 
brated of islands,—the native country of Aiacus and the 
/JAacide, which once enjoyed the dominion of the seas, 
and contended with Athens itself for the prize of 
superior glory in the battle with the Persian fleet of 
Salamis ?” 

Such are the emphatic words with which the ancient 
eeoorapher, Strabo, introduces his elerant and accurate 
description of this remarkable island, which is situated in 
a beautiful gulf of the same name, slightly corrupted 
by the modern Greeks into Eg’hina. At the head of 
this deep gulf stands Cape Colonna, crowned with the 
fine columns of the temple of Minerva Sunias at the 
right ; and, on the left, the bold rocky promontory of 
Skyli, the shores of Attica, of Megara, and of the Pelo- 
ponnesus, all rising into hills of considerable» elevation 
and of very picturesque forms, embrace the gulf, which, 
besides AXgina, is dotted with many small islands and 
rocks that group in the most picturesque manner. 

The writer of this short notice had ample means of 
learning the beauty of the scene, which is one of the 
finest he saw on the coast of Greece; for, in the summer 
of 1827, he was detained three days at the mouth of the 
eulf of AAgina by dead calms and contrary winds. The 
whole of the shores of the Levant he visited are subject, 
in summer, to a silvery haze or mist, see# through the 
medium of which all objects have a deliciously delicate 
colour, and at times assume the most singular appear 
ances,—the haze at sea producing something like the 
effects of the mirage In the deserts. One morning, on 
looking up the gulf from near Cape Colonna, he saw 
Zeina and all the other islets in view, suspended, as it 
were, in the air many feet above the level of the sea, 
while the surrounding mountains were striped here and 
there, from their summit to their base, with broad lines 
of white mist which appeared precisely hke so many 
waterfalls. 

Towards evening this silvery haze entirely disappears ; 
every object re-assumes its own form and position, and 
then indeed it is glorious to see— 

“ Along Morea’s hills the setting sun.” 


At the time of the writer's stay there the whole of those 
seas were infested with piratical boats, manned by 


284 


Greeks who had been driven to robbery by starvation 
and despair, at what they then considered the utter 
neglect of them and their catse by all European nations; 
yet, though there might be danger in their approach, he 
could not sufficiently admire the beauty of their little 
vessels as they scudded across the gulf of Asgina or 
darted out from beneath Cape Colonna,—a_ beauty 
considerably increased by their generally having their 
sail-cloth dyed of a delicate red or rose colour. 

The island of gina, one of the finest features in this 
scene, does not exceed nine miles in its greatest length, 
nor six miles in its greatest breadth; its interior is 
rough and mountainous, and the valleys, which are made 
to bear corn, cotton, olive and fruit trees, are narrow 
and stony. Yet in ancient days, through the blessings 
of commerce, this spot in the seas of Greece was the 
residence of a numerous and most thriving population, 
who erected upon it such works as are still the adimira- 
tion of the civilized world, though they are now in ruins, 
and the place of those who built them scantily occupied 
by an impoverished and degraded race of men. ‘The 
position of these islanders was favourable for trade. At 
the ‘end of the gulf they were only separated from the 


Gulf of Corinth (now Lepanto) by a very narrow | 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





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isthmus; and from the head of the gulf, sailing by Cape 
Colonna or Cape Skyli, their vessels had easy access to 
the whole of the Greek coast and clustering islands; and, 
standing across the Mediterranean, by an open naviga- 
tion, could reach the rich and civilized island of Crete, 
and the ports of Egypt and Syria. ‘The place had also 
the advantage of security; an important point in the 
earlier ages of Greece, when piracy was a common and 
honourable profession, and no defenceless town near the 
sea safe from plunder. It lay deep within a gulf; na- 
ture had made access to its shores difficult, by nearly 
encircling them with rocks and sand-banks ; and its in- 
dustrious population added artificial defences. Its port also 
was commodious and well protected against the attacks of 
man. Here, therefore, the eoods procured, far and near, 
by the enterprising inhabitants could be lodged without 
fear of pillage, and the Greeks would resort hither as to 
a general mart, where whatever they wanted might be 
purchased. Wealth would thus flow into the island, 
and its inhabitants, with their exquisite feeling for all 
that was beautiful—a feeling the Greeks possessed above 
all other people we are acquainted with—would employ 
that wealth in cultivating the fine arts, and in covering 
their barren rocks with grand and graceful edifices. 


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[View in AZgina, with the Temple of Jupiter Panhellenus. } 


To the old inhabitants of /Egina are attributed the | detailed description of the temple of Jupiter Panhel- 


honours of having been the first to coin silver money, 
and of having: introduced a style of art in sculpture, su- 


perior to all that preceded it, though inferior to the ulti-- 


mate perfection of the Athenian or Attic school. Some 


lenus, with several other things excluded by our limits 
here. The engraving in this page is a somewhat dis- 


tant view of all that remains of the celebrated temple 
just mentioned, which stands on the sumuinit of a hill, 


aniiquaries and connoisseurs are of opinion that they | rough and stony, and partially covered with mastic 


only shared the latter honours with Corinth and Sicyon ; 
but however this may have been, Pausanias calls it ex- 
clusively the /Eginetan, and the style seems to have 
borne the name of this people generally. 


bushes, cedars, and fir trees. Anciently the hill also 
was Called Panhellenium, from the temple that so nobly 
crowned it. ‘This temple,’ says Colonel Leake, ‘* was 
erected upon a large paved platform, and must, when 


‘The reader will find in the Penny Cyclopedia a} complete, have been one of the most remarkable exam- 
critical notice of this style of art, as also a plan and! ples in Greece of the majesty and beauty of its sacred 


1833.] 


edifices, as well as of the admirable taste with which the. 


Greeks enhanced those qualities by an attention to local 
situation and surrounding scenery. It is not only in 
itself one of the finest specimens of Grecian architecture, 
but is the more curious as being, in all probability, the 
most ancient example of the Doric order in Greece, with 
the exception of the columns at Corinth.” ‘The site of 
this sublime temple commands a prospect sublimer still. 
_ Besides the Panhellenium, there still exist in /Egina 
two columns of a temple and several other ruins, which, 
however, are Mere indications of what has been. The 
island is famous for its almonds and figs. Wild doves 
and wild pigeons are found in countless numbers, as 
they are round Cape Colonna and in all the neighbour- 
ing coasts and islands. 


LINKS, 


[Comrosep a FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING 
rue Banks or rue Wye purinag A Tour. Juxx 13, 1798.] 


Vive years have past; five summers, with the length 
Of tive long winters ! and again I hear 

These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs 
With a sweet inland murmur *.—Once again 

Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 

That on a wild secluded scene impress 

Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect 
The landscape with the quiet of the sky. 

The day is come when IJ again repose 

Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 

These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, 
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, 

Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 
Among the woods aud copses, nor disturb 

The wild green landscape. Ouce again I see 
These hedge-rows, hardly hede-rows, little lines 
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms 
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke 
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! 

With some uncertain notice, as might seem, 

Of vagrant Dwellers in the houseless woods, 

Or of some Hermit’s cave, where by his fire 

The Hermit sits alone. 

These beautcous Forms, 

Lhrough a long absence, have not been to me 

As 1s a landscape to a blind man’s eye: 
But oft, in lonely rooms, and ’mid the din 
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them, 
Jun hours of weariness, sensations sweet, 
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; 
And passing even into my purer mind, 
With tranquil restoration :—feelinys too 
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, 
As have no slight or trivial influence 

On that best portion of a good man’s hfe, 
His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, 
‘To them I may have owed another gift, 

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, 
In which the burthen of the mystery, 

In which the heavy and the weary weight 
Of all this unintelligible world, 

Is lightened :—that serene and blessed mood 
In which the affections gently lead us on,— 

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 

Aud even the motion of our human blood 

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 

In body, and become a living soul : 

While with an eye made quiet by the power 

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 
We see into the life of things. 


> 


If this 
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft, 


In darkuess, and amid the many shapes 

Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir 
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, 

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 

O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer thro’ the woods, 
Jiow often has my spirit tumed to thee! 


And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 
With many recognitions dim and faint, 
And somewhat of a sad perplexity, 


* The river is not affected by the tides a few miles above 
Tintern, ' 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The picture of the mind revives again: 

While here I stand, not only with the sense 
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 
That in this moment there is life and food 

For future years. And so I dare to hope, 


Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 


I came among these hills; when like a roe 

I bounded o’er the mountains, by the sides 

Of the decp revers, and the lonely streams, 
Wherever nature led: more like a man 

}lying from something that he dreads, than one 
Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then 
(The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, 

And their glad animal movements all gone by,) 
To me was all in all.—I cannot paint | 
What then I was, The sounding cataract 
Haunted me like a passion : the tall roek, 

The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, 
Lheir colours and their forms, were then to me 
An eppetite—a feeling and a love, 

That had no need of a remoter charm, 

By thought supplied, or any interest 
Unborrowed from the eye.—That time is past, 
And all its aching joys are now no more, 

And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 

aint I, nor mourn nor murmur; other gifts 
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe, 
Abundant recompense. For I have learned 

To look on nature, not as in the hour 

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes 
The still, sad music of humanity, 

Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
Yo chasten and subdue. And I have felt 

A presence that disturbs me with the joy 

Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime 

Of something far more deeply interfused, 
Whiose dwelling is the light of setting sung, 
And the ronnd ocean and the living air, © 

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man: 

A motion and a spirit that impels 

All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still 
A lover of the ireadows and the woods, 


_And inountains; and of all that we behold 


From this green earth; of all the mighty world . 
Of eye and ear, both what they half create, 
Ana what perceive ; well pleased to recognise 
In nature and the language of the sense, 
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
Of all my moral being. 

Nor perchance, 
If I were not thus taucht, should I the more 
Suffer my genial spirits to decay : 
For thou art with me, here, npon the banks 
Of this fair river; thon, my dearest Friend, 
My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch 
Lhe language of my former heart, and read 
My former pleasures in the shooting lights 
Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while 
May I behold in thee what I was once, 
My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I inake, 
Knowing that Nature never did betray 
The heart that loved her; ’tis her privilege, 
Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
}*rom joy to joy: for she can so inform .- 
The mind that is within us, so impress 
With quictness and beauty, and so feed 
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
The dreary intercourse of daily hfe, 
Shall e’er prevail against us, or disturb 
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
Is full of blessings. Therefore Jet the moon 
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ; 
And let the misty mountain winds be free 
To blow against thee: and, iu after years, 
When these wild ecstacies shall be matured 
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind 
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, 
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place 
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, 
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, 
Should be thy portion, with what heahing thoughts 
Of tender joy wilt thon remember ime, 
And these my exhortations! Nor, perehance, 
If I should be where I no more can hear 
Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams 
Of past existence, wilt thou then forvet 
That en the vanks of this delightful stream 


286 


We stood together; and that I, so long 
A worshipper of Nature, hither came 
Unwearied in that service: rather say 
With warmer love, oh! with far deeper zeal 
Of hohier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, 
That after many wanderings, many years 
Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, 
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me 
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake! 
; WorpsworTH. 





THE MOON.—No. 4.—(Concluded.) 


Tue average of a large number of observations, inde- 
pendently of the power which it gives us to detect laws 
uuseen in the individual measurements, has also the 
advantage of destroying, in a great degree, the effect of 
errors of ‘observation. ‘The reason is obvious: let the 
instruments be ever so good, and the observer ever so 
attentive, each single measurement will be larger or 
smaller than the truth; and so long as there is no rea- 
son in the observer himself why he should commit a 
mistake rather on one side than the other, it is very 
unlikely that the sum of the defects in a great number 
of observations should differ much from the sum of the 
excesses. And whatever difference there may be, it is 
divided by the whole number of observations in taking 
the average. 

The very allowable supposition here made is fully 
borne out by the whole history of astronomical observa- 
tion. In the average of a large number of observations, 
all irregularity, if not destroyed, 1s detected, and its 
cause Jooked for, and in most instances discovered. For 
example, it is understood that at the Observatory of 
Greenwich the results of the transits of stars taken by 
different observers, all reductions being made, exhibit a 
slight difference, those of one particular observer being 
eenerally a little greater than those of another. ‘The 
operation performed is simply noting the exact time by 
a clock at which a star passes over each of a succession 
of wires (thin spider’s webs) seen in the telescope, and 
a practised observer generally makes an attempt to 
estimate each time noted by him, within one-tenth of a 
second. Each transit is the average of five such wires ; 
so that whatever the total number of transits may be, 
taken by each observer, five times as many transits will 
have been taken at single wires. ‘The average diflerence 
above mentioned is, we believe, not more than three- 
tenths of a second. 

Now since an error of two-tenths of a second on one 
side or the other is possible at each wire, and generally 
some error does take place, we see the eflect of a large 
number of observations in separating wniform from 
acevdental errors, and detecting the former, even when 
accompamied by others nearly as large of the latter kind. 
We have introduced this instance to give the reader an 
idea of this principle, that small differences, though they 
tell nothing in single observations, are not to be neglected 
when they are found in the average of a great number ; 
aud the greater the number, the greater is the probability 
that a difference between two sets of obserVations arises 
from some definite and discoverable cause. If there be 
One instrument of which, more than of another, the indi- 
cations appear to be capricious, and regulated by no 
law, it is the barometer. Nevertheless, it is -found 
that the average height of the barometer is nearly the 
same in different years at the same place, and even 
in the same months of different years. Jn general, also, 
a low state of the barometer indicates rain: and _ this, 
though not by any means always true, is yet so far so, 
that of two large numbers of days in the first of which 
the barometer is, on the average, lower than in the 
second, it may be confidently expected that the first will. 
contain more rainy days than the second. : We shall now 
resume M. Arago’s paper. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[J uLy 27, 


__ The following barometric observations were made by 
M. Flaugergues, at Viviers, from 1808 to 1828. They 
were made at noon, in order that, by choosing the same 
position of the sun throughout, the effect of the sun, if 
any, might not be mixed up with that of the moon. 
The observed heights of the barometer were then reduced 
to what they would have been if the mercury had been 
of the freezing temperature: so that all accideutal varia- 
tions of temperature produce no effect on the result. 
The heights are in millimetres, each millimetre being 
about one-twenty-fifth, or more correctly -039371 of an 
inch, _— 

Average Height. 


mm, 


Wew moon...... 709°48 
First octant..... 755°44 
First quarter .... 755°40 
Second octant ... 754°79 


Day of Day of Average Height. 


mm. 
Full moon .......755°30 
Third octant .....755°69 
Second quarter... .756°23 
Fourth octant.....755.50 


These results, though near to each other, are much be 
yond what could arise from errors of observation; the 
ereatest difference between them being about a milli- 
metre and a half—a mistake which could not be made by 
a careful observer even in a single observation, far less 
in the average of a laree number. From this table we 
find that the barometer is lowest on the average at the 
second octant, and highest at the second quarter—a 
result which agrees with that of M. Schiibler, riven in 
our last Number, namely, that there is most rain at the 
octant, aud least at the second quarter. 

M. Flaugergues has also confirmed the results of 
M. Schubler in another point. He has found that the 
average height of the barometer on those days when the 
moon is farthest from the earth, is 755""°73; while on 
the days on which the moon is nearest to the earth, it is 
794™™°73; the difference being exactly 1™™. M. Schii- 
bler’s result is, that it rains less on the former days than 
on the latter. 

But we have yet two striking results in corroboration 
of those of the table already cited. From the table of 
M. Flaugergues, just given, we find the average height 
at the quarters to be 755" ‘81, and that of the heights of 
the new and full moon to be 755™"-39; the difference 
belug 0°" °42, or 42 hundredths of a millimetre. From 
a long series of observations made at Padua by the Mar- 
quis Poleni, it appeared that the mean height at the 
quarters exceeded that at the new and full moon by 
ge'-46, or 46 hundredths of a millimetre ; and from ob- 
servations made by M. Bouvard at Paris, it appears that 
there the average at the quarters still exceeds that at the 
new and full moon, but by a greater quantity, viz., 69 
hundredths of a millimetre. All these results were ob- 
tained from long series of observations; but from some 
observatious made during a szngle year at Santa Fé de 
Bogota, they were, as would have appeared beforehand 
highly probable, confirmed in some points and not in 
others. ‘The barometer was highest at the last quarter, 
but the average height of the quarters was less than that 
at the new and. full moon. : 

With these facts before us, we cannot avoid coming’ to 
the conclusion, that the average state of the weather as 
well as of the barometer, for different times of the lunar 
month, exhibits variations which cannot be accounted 
for as the effect of accident or errors of observation. 
Accidents there are none; and when we say that an event 
is accidental, we mean that its connexion with other 
events is unobserved or unknown, not wnevisting. FEr- 
rors of observation could not give such uniform and 
corresponding results, from different observers, in differ- 
ent places and at different times, looking at different phe- 
nomena. The barometrical observations are far more con- 
vincing than those of the number of rainy days, since the 
height of the barometer is capable of mathematical mea- 
surement, While the definition of a rainy day depends in 


j some degree upon the observer’s judgment. It must alsc 


1833.] 


be observed, that there is nothing in the above observa- 
tions which presents any rina Pub phenomena at the 
changes of the moon. It is true that the days of those 
changes were chosen for the periods of observation, not 
only because they have definite names, and are more 
commonly known than the other days of the lunar month, 
but also because there are considerations which render iit 
probable that if the barometer vary its average height 
with the moon, the greatest, and therefore most easily 
observable variation, would take place at or near one of 
these changes. The popular opinion is, that changes of 
weather are always, or nearly always, to be expected at 
the change of the moon, particularly at the new and full. 
What is meant by a change of weather is very uncertain, 
so that any one can deceive himself and others by call- 
ing attention to every remarkable change which really 
does happen to take place at these periods, while it will 
be hard if, in the forty-eight hours next following a 
change, something does not take place, in the shape of 
wind, rain, or sunshine, sufficient to keep the theory in 
countenance, and its adyocates in conceit of it. 

The first set of observations cited by M. Arago on 
this subject, are those of M. Toaldo, at Padua, con- 
tinued through nearly half a century. Their result is 
apparently highly favourable to the popular opinion. 
The observer himself was strongly biassed in favour of 
the common theory ;: and even went further, for he says 
that every one is aware, from his own experience, that 
the nails and hair grow much more quickly when cut 
during the increase of the moon, than when cut during 
the wane! The following is the result of his observa- 
tions. 


Epock. Proportion of such epochs 


at which changes take place, 


New moon esssesseseceseees 6 out of 7 
IR, |e ee > » © 
First quarter .......... Se ee 
mecond quarter.....+........ a aed 
Moon nearest to earth........ es G 
Moon farthest from earth ..... 4 ,, 5 


If this were a real representation of the facts which 
occurred, and if M.Toaldo had clearly explained what 
constituted a change of weather in his opinion, there can 
be no doubt that the matter would be rightly considered 
as settled in favour of the common opinion. But M. 
Toaldo presumes and applies a theory in the formation of 
his observations. Supposing that the new and full moon 
exercise a particular influence superior to any other 
phases, he counts any change which happened either the 
day before or after those epochs, and puts it down as 
happening at the full or new moon; he sometimes 
reckons two days before and after the phase inthe same 
way. On the other hand, at the quarters, which he 
imagined to have less influence on the weather, he 
counts ouly what happened in the twenty-four hours in 
which the phase occurred ; that is, he gives the full and 
new moon always three and sometimes five days in 
which to catch a change of weather, and only one to the 
quarters. It yet remains to be seen whether, if he had 
given the latter five or three days and the former only 
one, his results would not have been exactly reversed. 

Another opinion of M. Toaldo, that the quantity of 
rain which falls in any period of nine years is the same 
as that in any other similar period, or nearly so, is 
shown by M. Arago not to agree even with the results 
of his own tables, and not at all with observations made 
at Paris. 

But the observations of M. Toaldo are directly con- 
tradicted by those of others, of whom M. Arago cites 


M. Pilgram and Dr. Horsley. The former made twenty- |. 


five years of observations at Vienna, from 1763 to 1787, 
and his results are as follows, the first column specifying 
the phase, and the number in the second showing how 
often per cent, that phase was accompanied by change of 
weather :— 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


i time of an eclipse of the moon, 


287 


» NOW MOON cost esti et iciccbecscces BS 
» Pal] mapaph yor. ews el, wesc eee cele 168 
Oe a ee ee »ee 63 
Moon nearest to earth (generally) ,...., 72 
- Moon farthest from earth (do.)........ 64 
Moon nearest. to earth at new moon .,.. 80 
- Moon farthest from earth at new moon. 64 
. Moon nearest to earth at full moon..... 81 
. Moon farthest from earth at full moon .. 68 

From these observations we should imagine that 
fewer changes take place at the new moon than at any 
Other phase, aud that there are as many changes at full 
moon as at the quarters, which is directly in opposition 
to the results of M. Toaldo. M. Arago, not having the 
original work of Pilgram before him, could not say any- 
thing of his method of observing, or of his definition of 
a change of weather. He therefore examines the pre- 
ceding results to see if they be consistent with one 
another; and here he immediately finds a remarkable 
inconsistency. If we take the preceding table as proving 
that the place of the moon affects the weather, it is 
clear we must say that, ceteris paribus, the farther the 
moon is from the earth the less that action is. (Com- 
pare 4 and 5, 6 and 8, 7 and 9.) We must therefore 


CON OO COND = 


‘conclude that the least action of the full moon gives 


68 per cent. (see 9) for the number of changes, for this 
is the number it would give in the most unfavourable 
circumstance, But it appears (see 2) that the whole 
action of the full moon gives 63 per cent. of changes,— 
that is, all the full moons together, on the average, in- 
dicate less action than that indicated by a selection of 
the most unfavourable cases only.. This appears to us 
to prove, either that the observations were badly made, 
or that the connexion of the phases of the moon with 
changes of weather is, if any, of so trivial a nature, that 
twenty-five years of observation are not sufficient to 
detect and separate the effect of the moon from that of 
other causes. ad 

The observations of Dr. Horsley, though only for two 


. years, 1774 and 1775, yet exhibit results very little 


indicative of any truth in the common notion. In 1774, 
two new moons only, and noé one full moon, were 
accompanied with changes of weather. In 1775, four 
new moons, and three full moons only, took place at a 
change, 

M. Arago ends by some account of various notions 
which have prevailed with regard to lunar influence. 
For example, that if the horns of the moon be sharp on 
the third day, the month will be fine; if the upper horn 
of the moon appears dusky at setting, it will rain during 
the wane of the moon; if the lower horn, it will rain 
before the full; if the centre, it will rain at the full 
moon; if shadows he not visible from the moonlight 
when it Is four days old, there will be bad weather. It 
has been thought, also, that the April moon has con- 
siderable influence on vegetation ; and that if trees are 
cut down during the increase of the moon, the wood 
will not keep. ‘The old forest laws of France forbid 
the cutting of wood, except during the wane of the 
moon, for this reason; and M. de St. Hilaire found the 
same idea among the natives of Brazil. ‘Lhe Italian 
wine-makers are of opinion that wine made during two 
moons, that is, one month and part of another, will not 
be. good. It has been said that moonlight renders 
substances moist and promotes putrefaction. This is in 
One sense true, since moonlight nights, that is, clear 
nights, are more favourable than others for the formation 
of dew, and moist substances decay sooner than dry ones. 

The influence, or the supposed influence, of the moon 
on the human body, and how long it has retained its 
place in our almanacs, are well known. M. Arago cites 
several cases in which that planet is said to have pro- 
duced singular effects.. J*or example, Ramazzini, an 
Italian physician, stated that in 1693 many persons who 
were attacked by an epidemic disorder died at the exact 
This is very possible ; 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, fJuLy 27, 1833., 

Our limits prevent us from giving any more instances. 
We hope what we have said may help to draw a distinc- 
tion in the minds of some of our readers between facts 


288 


nor is it-at all.to be wondered at, that imagination might 
produce such effects in an age when people of the hieh- 
est rank would ‘shut themselves up in a dark room dur- 


ing: an eclipse, by the advice of their physicians, to escape 
from some supposed evil influence. 


established by attentive observation, and the relics of an 
absurd system of philosophizing. | 











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This singular bird, with the legs ofa crane and the 
head of an eagle,.of which a characteristic representation 
is given in the above wood-cut, is an inhabitant of 
the southern parts of Africa. His presence there is a 
peculiar blessing to the natives; for they are indebted 
to him for the destruction of-a vast quantity of insects 
and reptiles, whose multiplication, unless their unmbers 
were thus .kept down, would be a formidable calamity. 


The bird has been called by the names of secretary, 


messenger, archer, and lastly serpent-eater.. The latter 
name truly indicates his habits ;—the former are mere 
fanciful -.appellations.. ‘The first is derived from an 
imaginary resemblance of the bunch of long feathers. 
that hang loose on the back of his head, to a pen: stuck 
in the ear of a writer; the second refers to his rapid 
strides; and the third to a habit which he possesses of 
throwing straws with his beak something im the manner 
of an arrow froma bow. Hei is still best known by 
the name of the Secretary. : 

The Secretary belongs to the class of rapacious birds, 
and he is.now placed by naturalists between the vultures 
and eagles. .He was formerly classed among the wad- 
ing birds, on account of the length of his legs. His con- 
formation, as well as his habits, attest the correctness of 
the more recent classification. The Secretaries, like the 
other large birds of prey, build their nests on the tops of 
the highest trees. They seek their food both on the dry 
sands and the pestiferous marshes, On.the one they 
find serpents and lizards;-in-the other tortoises and 
large. insects, - Their mode of. destroying life is very: 


THE SECRETARY. BIRD. : Jel 





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curious, for they always kill their prey before swallowing 
it.’ Whether the Secretary meet with a serpent or a tor- 
toise, he invariably crushes it under the sole of his foot; 
and such is the skill and force with which he gives the 


blow, that it is very rarely that a-serpent of an inch: ‘or 


more in’ diameter survives-the first stroke... When he 
meets with’a serpent that is large enough to oppose a 
long resistance to him, he flies off with his prey in-his 
beak to'a ereat heicht, and then dropping’ it,’ follows ‘it 
in its descent with’ wonderful rapidity, so as to be ready 
to strike it when it’ falls stunned on ‘the ground.’ M. le 
Vaillant describes an obstinate-battle between a secre- 
tary and a large ‘serpent, in which the bird struck his 
enemy withthe bony protuberance‘of his wing ; but the 
mode of crushing’ with his foot is the more common: 7 

The male and female‘ eqnally labour in the construc- 
tion of their large nest, in which ‘the female generally 
lays two eggs. ‘Their unions do not take place tll after 
the most obstinate battles amongst the males. In ge- 
neral’ these birds exhibit ‘no fierceness, and they are 
easily domesticated. Their natural habits‘must be of 
singular advantage to mian’ in’ places where reptiles 
abound; and for‘this reason the French have endea- 
voured to establish the Secretary in their colonies of 


Guadeloupe and Martinique. ~ + ' 


for the Diffusion of Usefu. Knowledge is at 


*,* The Office of the Societ j 
incoln’s Inn Fields. 


59, 


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Our island, it 1s true, still ‘* stands where it did” a 
century ago; but in almost all other respects it is as 
much changed since then as an old house that had been 
almost wholly rebuilt. All our accommodations within 
“ this little world” are metamorphosed since the days 
of our fathers and grandfathers.. Turn’ to which side we 
may, where shall we find things in’ anything like the 
same state in which they were even sixty years since? 
All commodities: consumed; it may. almost.: be said 
without exception by: all classes ‘of the people, are'of 
improved manufacture and: better quality. Look to the 
clothing that is now worn, by men and.women, even: of 
the poorest order. of our population ; nearly: every 
article of it is of a quality such as formerly was not re- 
nerally used even by the most opulent. The same thing 
is true of their food. Throughout England, at least, in- 
ferior substitutes for bread made of wheaten flour are now 
nearly everywhere discarded ;—the people will live upon 
nothing, or at least will take nothing for the main basis 
of their subsistence, except that best and- costliest of all 
the generally cultivated productions of the earth. Other 
articles of consumption, agvain, such as tea, for example, 
and sugar, have, from being the luxuries of the few, 
become almost universal necessaries. The houses in- 
habited by persons of every degree are equally changed 
and improved. ‘So is every article of furniture, ‘every- 


thing intended either for use or for ornament, which they 
Vou, II. | 





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June 30 to July 31, 1833. 


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contain, It would be an endless task to attempt to 
enumerate the many things. which but a generation ago 
were rare, and are now possessed, in greater or smaller 
measure, almost by every body; the many other things 
that were then hardly ever seen, and are now common 
and plentiful everywhere; and the many others still 
that absolutely did not exist then, and are now enjoyed 
either by the whole community or by a large portion 
of it. sill) 

But that which lies at.the root and beginning of all 
these things, and is indeed the foundation of a coun- 
trys civilization, is a system of good roads. , Without 
this the national resources, and energies, remaill, in 
nearly their sum total,, unawakened and useless. Roads 
are the veins and arteries by means of which the cir- 
culation of the social body is carried on. Where they 
do not exist, there can.hardly be said to be acommunity. 
The people have nothing in common, ‘They are not 
one. people in anything but the name. No commerce, 
nor intercourse of any, kind, mixes them up together into 
one mass. .The inhabitants of a country entirely without 
roads would, of necessity, be savages. : 

No country on the face of the earth is so well provided 
with roads as our own; and that is one of the chief of 
the causes which place this country, beyond all rational 
dispute, at the head of the civilization of the world. 


The greater part of England is now intersected in all 
2 Tr 


290 


directions, not only by paths by which persons may Pass 
on foot from one place to another, but by broad hieh- 
ways for the movement of wheel-carriages, and the 
transference of the heaviest loads that can be dragged 
by the power of horses or of machinery. Formerly 
vehicles drawn along the public roads were not allowed 
to carry above a very small weight. In 1629, Charles I. 
issued a proclamation commanding that no common 
carrier, or other person whatsoever, should travel with 
any wain, cart, or carriage, with more than two wheels, 
nor with a load of above twenty hundredweight, for fear 
of injuring the roads; and penalties continued to be 
exacted under this regulation for many years after. Our 
present roads, as compared with those which then ex- 
isted, are not more multiplied than they are improved in 
quality. Of their number and extent, the latest com- 
plete account which has appeared is that given in the 
Appendix to the Report of a Select Committee of the 
Honse of Commons which sat on the subject of turn- 
pike-roads and highways in 1820. From this docu- 
ment it appears that the length of all the paved streets 
aud turnpikes in England and Wales was then 17,729 
miles, and that of other public highways 95,104 miles, 
making the total length of travelling road 114,829 miles. 
Assuming all the turnpike-roads to be of the statutable 
breadth of 60 feet, and the others on an average 30 feet 
broad, the space covered by the whole would be not less 
than 482,000 acres, or about 752 square miles. In the 
years 1812, 1813, and 1814, (the latest for which there 
are any returns,) this extent of road was kept in repair 
at an annnal expense of £1,404,842, being at the rate 
of £12 6s. 8d. per mile. But notwithstanding all that 
has already been done in this way, the business of open- 
ing additional lines of road is constantly going forward. 
Some idea of the rate at which this species of improve- 
ment proceeds may be gathered from the fact, that in 
the six years from 1827 to 1832 inclusive, the number 
of acts of parliament which were passed for the forma- 
tion of new, and the repair or alteration of old roads, 
amounted to 388, or nearly 65 on an average per an- 
num. 

If the whole surface streaked and cut into by these 
roads, and our other channels of communication, could 
be taken in by the eye at once, what an extraordinary 
display of national enterprise and national wealth it 
would present! So large an accumulation of the con- 
quests of energy and the constituent elements of riches, 
it may be safely said, was never-before collected ~with- 
in the same compass. These roads are often the 
noblest exemplifications of art subjugating and triumph- 
ing over the opposition of natural difficulties. Many of 
them are carried through the air over considerable 
rivers by bridges of more or less cost and magnificence. 
Others are supported across depths and hollows on stu- 
pendous embankments. Some are driven underground 
through mountains. Some terminate in piers that ex- 
tend far into the sea. There is no hostile force that 
their’ daring engineers have -not faced aiid vanquished. 
And then to our common highways are to be added our 
rail-rdads, and canals, and rivers made navigable, or 
otherwise improved by art, as all entering into the 
agorerate of those channels of communication which our 
ancestors and: ourselves have created, and which con- 
tribute in so eminent a degree to make England what 
itis, * 

The advantages, however, which we thus enjoy are, In 
by far the greater part, only of comparatively recent ac- 
quisition. ‘The Baron Dupin, in the introduction to 
his work on the ‘‘ Commercial Power of Great Britain,” 
writing in 1822, remarks, that fifty years before that 
time, France was generally as far ahead of this country 
in all that concerns public utility, as we had since got 
before his own countrymen. Imperfectly supplied with 
roads as France now is, compared with England, the 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[JuLy 27, 


Baron’s statement is probably true if confined even to 
this particular. If we turn back at least to times some- 
what, though not very much, more remote, we find that 
there were hardiy any roads on which travelling conld 
be conveniently performed, except in the immediate vi- 
cinity of the capital, and not even always there. In the 
Appendix to the ** Results of. Machinery,” a passage is 
quoted from an_ historical work, according to which it 
appears that Prince George of Denmark, having, in 


‘December, 1'703, to make the journey from Windsor to 


Petworth. was fourteen hours in accomplishing that dis- 
tance of forty miles in his coach, the last nine miles 
having taken six hours to get over them. ‘“‘ We did not 
et out of the coaches,” says the narrator, one of the 
prince’s attendants, (‘‘ save only when we were over- 
turned, or stuck fast in the inire) till we arrived at our 
journey’s end. * * * Wewere thrown but once indeed 
in going, but our coach, which was the leading one, and 
his highness’s body-coach, would have suffered very 
much, if the nimble boors of Sussex had not frequently 
poised it, or supported it with their shoulders.” In 
those days, indeed, and long after, the common mode of 
travelling was on horseback ; and in country parts goods 
were almost universally conveyed on packhorses. We 
eave, in our 61st Number, a relation extraeted from Dr. 
Cleland’s ‘* Statistical Account of Glasgow,” of a journey 
made in this manner by two inhabitants of that city to 
London, in the year 1739, in which it is stated, that 
they found no turnpike road till they came to Grantham, 
in Lincolnshire, 110 miles from the English metro- 
polis. Up to that point they had to make their way 
along a narrow path raised in the middle of an unmade 
soft road, into which latter they had to descend when- 
ever they met one of the gangs of packhorses carrying 
coods, the raised causeway not being broad enough to 
allow the two parties to pass each other. ‘“ We, who, 
in this age, are accustomed to roll along our hard and 
even roads at the rate of eight or nine miles an hour,” 
says a writer in the Quarterly Review (xxxi. 356) 
with much truth, “can hardly imagine the iconveni- 
ences which beset our great grandfathers when they had 
{to undertake a journey—forcing their way through deep 
miry lanes ; fording swollen rivers; obliged to halt for 
days together when the ‘ waters Were out;’ and then 
crawling along at a pace of two or three miles an hour, 
in constant feat of being set fast in some deep quapmire, 
of being overturned, breaking down, or swept away by 
a sudden inundation.” 

The Romans formed several excellent roads in Bri- 
tain, as they did in every other country which they snb- 
jected to their arms; but the ages of confusion and 
misery that followed their departure from the island 
obliterated these, with nearly every other vestige of their 
domination. For a long period, instead of our roads 
being improved, they probably continued to grow worse 
and worse. About the time of the Norman Conquest, 
the principal streets of London appear to have been 
little better than ditches or marshes. It is related that 
in the year 1090, on occasion of a storm of wind blow- 
ing down the roof of St. Mary-le-Bow church in Cheap- 
side, four of the rafters, each twenty-six feet long, were 
pitched so deep into the street, that scarcely four feet of 
them remained above ground. Holborn was not paved 
till the beginning of the fifteenth ceutury. In the year 
1417, the king, Henry V., ordered two vessels, each of 
twenty tons burden, to be employed at his expense in 
bringing stones for this purpose, by reason that the 
highway in qnestion was so deep and miry, that many 
perils and hazards were thereby occasioned, both to the 
king’s catriages passing that way, and to those of his 
subjects. ‘The western end of Holborn, however, ap- 
pears not to have been paved till 1541 ; in which year, 
beth it, Gray’s Inn-lane, Chancery-lane, and other 
streets now in the heart of the city, are described as 


1833.] 


“‘ very foul, and full of pits and sloughs, very perilous 
and noisome, as well for the king’s subjects on horse- 
back, as on foot, and with carriages.” 

The first notice which has been discovered of the col- 
lection of a toll for the repair of roads in England, oc- 
curs in the year 1346, in the reign of Edward III. In 
that year it was ordered, that tolls should be exacted, for 


two years to come, from all carriages passing aloug | 


Holborn, Gray’s Inn-lane, and the highway called 
Charing, ‘‘ which roads,” says the commission, “are, by 
the frequent passage of carts, wains, and horses, to and 
from London, become so miry and deep as to be al- 
most impassable.” 

As for the country roads, little or no attention seems 
to have been paid to them till towards the middle of the 
sixteenth century. In the course of the’reion of Henry 
VIII., four statutes connected with this subject were 
passed; two for altering certain roads in the Weald of 
Kent, and: in Sussex; a third for mending a lane near 


the city of Chester; and a fourth for the repair of | 


bridges. ‘The first general act for keeping the roads in 
repair was passed in 1555, in the reign of Mary. It 
imposed that duty upon the parishes, and was followed 
by many others to the same effect in the reigns of Eli- 
gabeth and James I. The first toll-bar was erected in 
1663, on the northern road leading through Hertford- 
shire, Cambridgeshire, and Huntingdonshire ; “ which 
road,” says the act, ‘‘ was then become very bad, by 
means of the great loads of barley, malt, &c., brought 
weekly to Ware in waggons and carts, and from thence 
conveyed by water to London.’ Three toll-gates were 
erected, one for each of the above-named counties; and 
it is said that the people were so prejudiced aga nst the 
innovation, that they rose in a mob and destroyed them. 

Coaches are said to have been first introduced into 
England in 1580, by the Earl of Arundel; and by the 
commencement of the next century they had become 
common in London., They were brought to Edinburgh 
in the suite of the English ambassador in 1598. The 
historians of that city tell us, that coaches for the use 
of the public generally were established there in 1610. 
Hackney coaches were first introduced in London 
in 1625. 

As yet there was but little intercourse between these 
two capitals. In London, Seotland and Edinburgh 
were considered as foreign parts. In 1635 a procla- 
mation was issued by Charles I. to the effect, that, 
“whereas to: this time there hath been no certain inter- 
course between the kingdoms of England and Scotland, 
his majesty now commands his postmaster of England 
for foreign parts to settle a running post or two, to run 
night and day, between Edinburgh and London.” It 
was a considerable time after the commencement of the 
last century, before there was more than one despatch 
of letters in the week from London to Scotland. In 
the year 1'763, the London coach set off from Edin- 
burgh only once in the month, and was from twelve 
to sixteen days on the road. The vehicle which ac- 
complished this adventurous achievement was at that 
time the only stage-coach in the northern capital, ex- 
cept two which ran to the neighbouring port of Leith. 
A journey to or from Edinburgh was in those days a 
doubtful and hazardous expedition — something like 
setting out in quest of the North-west Passage. It 
is said, that in Scotland, when a person determined 
upon attempting the achievement, he used, with the 
laudable prudence of that country, to make his will 
before setting out. ’ 

The change that has since taken place is immense. 
The journey between London and Edinburgh is now 
performed by the mail-coach, at: all seasons and in all 
weathers, in little more than forty-three hours and a half. 
The person who undertakes it exposes himself to scarcely 


any more danger than he does when he walks along the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


street in which he lives. 
dom now thinks of making his will merely because he 
is about to visit London. 
countless others of which they are examples or indica- 


alterations and improvements. 


291 
Even in Scotland a man sel- 
These changes, and the 


tions, are due to the existence of a good road between 


the two capitals. ‘This road, more than the compact 


of the year 1707 is the true Uniou of the Kingdoms. 

Within the last thirty years this Great North Road, 
as it is commonly called, has been extended to the re- 
motest extremity of the island—to a point still farther 


beyond Edinburgh (at least by the line taken) than 
Edinburgh is distant from London. 
especially, and also parts of that extending to the south 


This latter portion 


of Edinburgh, have recently undergone some material 
Those that have been 
effected within the last three years alone are well fitted 


to raise the admiration of all who are qualified to appre- 


ciate their importance. They afford an evidence which 


1s extremely gratifying of the exertions that continue 


to be made in order to uphold and extend one of the 


chief foundations of our national prosperity and greatness. 


We have been fortunate enough to obtain very complete 
accounts of the principal of these improvements, in most 


Instances from persons having access to the best sources 
of information; and abstracts of these we now pro- 
pose to lay before our readers, accompanied with illus- 
trative wood-cuts, and interspersed with such explana- 


tions as may convey a full and correct view of the whole 
course of this great highway,—the longest continued 
line of road in the United Kingdom. 


IMPROVEMENTS IN THE Norra. 


So greatly does the northern portion of our island in- 
cline or lean over. to the west, that Edinburgh, while it 
is abont 320 miles to the north of London, is also above 
100 miles to the west of it—although the two capitals 
stand at about equal distances from the east coast.. 
Edinburgh, on the east coast of Great Britain, is, in fact, 
rather farther west than Liverpool, which stands on the. 
west coast. Whaut is called the Great North Road from 
London, therefore, diverges considerably from a line 
drawn due north. The wide level country which gene- 


rally prevails as far as to the heart of Yorkshire enables 


it to pursue up to that point a course nearly perfectly 
straight. The first formidable obstacle, indeed, which 
it meets with to prevent it from following the shortest 
line to the Scottish metropolis is interposed by the Che- 
viot hills, which form the nerth-west boundary of North- 
umberland. . These hills, at their northern extremity, 
approach so close to the sea as to Jeave only a pass of a 
few miles broad through which the road at this part of 
its course can be carried. Hitherto the town of Berwick, 
which is on the coast, and at a short distance beyond 
the termination of the Cheviot range, has been assumed 
as the point which should determine the direction of the 
first part of the road between the two capitals. This 
has made the deflection of the line to the west less than 
it otherwise would have been; for Berwick, although 
far west of London, is still considerably to the east of 
Edinburgh. 

The direction of the southern portion of this road, 
then, may be considered as necessarily regulated, not 
by the relative positions of London and Edinburgh, but 
of London and Berwick, or another point but a few 
miles to the westward of the latter town. The route 
followed by the mail at present, in fact, is very nearly 
the shortest line between London aud Berwick, subject 
merely to such slight deviations as are required in order 
to make it touch certain great towns. The jeneth of 
this portion of the road, which passes through Hunting- 
don, Stamford, Doncaster, York, Darlington, Durham, 
and Newcastle, is 342 miles; the whole distance from 
London te Edinburgh being 399 miles. | 

2P 2 


292 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF [Jury 27 


The first improvements which it falls within the plan | 


of the present article to notice are those which have been 
recently made on the northern portion of this line of 
road between London and Berwick. We shall begin 
by merely adverting to the magnificent approaches 
which now lead to the town of Durham, the elevated 
situation of which formerly rendered it of such ‘difficult 
access. Ihe new entrances, which have in a great de- 
oree overcome the obstacles presented by the nature of 
the ground, are excellent specimens of engineering skill, 
and do honour to the local trusts. ‘They would pro- 
bably, however, have remained unexecuted, but for the 
stimulus given to these bodies by a Committee of the 
House of Commons, which had under its consideration 
the defective state of -the communication between 
London and Edinburgh... We may here also mention, 
as having originated in the recommendations of the same 
Committee, the handsome new bridge over the North- 
Tyne at Morpeth, constructed by Mr. Telford, after the 
model of the bridge of Neuilly near Paris. 

But the most important improvements in this quarter, 
and those’ to which we would particularly direct atten- 
tion, are the alterations which have recently been effected, 
or are in progress of execition, on the portion of the road 
to Edinburgh immediately beyond Morpeth. Here the 
Cheviot hills’ run’ almost parallel to the coast, to-which 
they at the ‘same time approach so elosely, that what we 
may call their roots stretch across the intervening space 
in the shape of so many successive elevations, while the 
hollows between are occupied by rivers more or less con- 


siderable, all having a direction at right angles to the }: 


line of the road. ..This extreme inequality of surface 


has hitherto, as already intimated, forced’ the road close. 


upon the ‘sea’; but even while thus: retiring ‘as far as 
possible from the mountains, it has still not been‘able to 
avoid a remarkably steep ridge called Birnside Moor. 
The gentlemen of Northumberland, however, have at 
last, aided by the great exertions of Sir John Marjori- 
banks of Lees, effected the union of several of the local 
trusts into one, and thereby enabled themselves to raise 
the sum of £12,000, which they are now in the course 
of expending in carrying the road through a series of 
valleys lying farther to the west, in place of this elevated 
moorland. The whole of this improvement’ will be 
completed during the present year; and, although much 
still remains to be done to make the road’ what it ought 
to be in the more immediate vicinity of Morpeth, the 
alteration effected here will deserve to be accounted one 
of the most valuable works of -public utility which have 
been recently accomplished in these islands. . : 

The road, following the new direction thus given to it, 
will now leave Berwick to the right, and, instead of 
running along the coast, as it does at present, by Dun- 
bar, and thence turning round in a due west direction 
by Haddington, will proceed by Wooler and Coldstream 
in very nearly a straight line to Edinburgh. The saving 
by this route, we believe, will be above ten miles, the 
distance from Edinburgh to Morpeth being reduced from 
104 miles to about 934. It is only lately, however, that 
the road by Coldstream, which passes through a very 
hilly country, has been brought to such a condition as 
that the mail could travel on it. The exertions of the 
gentlemen of Berwickshire and Midlothian, by which 
this important object has been at last accomplished, 
rather preceded ‘those of the Northumberland trustees 
to which we have just adverted; their operations having 
commenced in January, 1828. , in 

From areport now before us, by the clerks of the Ber- 
wickshire trust, it appears that the improvements effected 
on what is called .the Greenlaw Turnpike Road embrace 
the reduction of numerous severe pulls of from one foot 
in six to one foot in twelve, occurring between’ Dean- 
burn, the northern extremity of the trust, and Cold- 
stream, to gentle ascents of from one foot in twenty-five 


to one foot in forty ; besides the repair of the bridge over 
the Blackadder, at the east end of Greenlaw, and of 
that over the Tweed at the east end of Coldstream. 
Including £2,100, expended on the Coldstream Bridge, 
the whole cost of these improvements, up to, the 8th of 
March last, had amounted only to £23,145. Of the 
adjoining portion of the road in the Edinburgh direction, 
which is under the care of the trustees of the Dalkeith 
district, a line of about eight miles, extending from the 
soiith-east boundary of the county of Mid Lothian to 
the north end of Fordel Bank, near Dalkeith, has within 
the same period been shortened, and the passage on 
it rendered much more safe and easy by altering the 
course of the road in some places, by cutting down 
and banking over some difficult and dangerous passes, 
and by building several new bridges. 

The principal bridges are, the bridge over Cranstown 
Dean, and the bridge over the Tyne, at the north end ot 
the village of Ford Pathhead, called the Lothian Bridge. 
Cranstown Dean Bridge is forty-six feet in height, and 
consists of three semicircular arches of seventeen feet 
span. the whole building is of ashler; and the. piers 
being only three feet in thickness, the bridge has a very 


‘light appearance. 


‘Lothian bridge is eighty-two feet in height, and con- 
sists of five semicircular arches of fifty feet span, sur- - 
mounted by-ten segment arches of fifty-four feet span 
and eight feet of rise.’ The piers are eight feet thick by 


twenty-eight feet broad, and hollow in the centre, as are 


also the abutments. | ; me; 


The whole building is of ashler, thereby presenting Be | 
happy combination of durability ,and - lightness, -and 


‘adding: much to the.ornament of the adjoining grounds. 
The embankments at the ends of the bridges are planted 


up with evergreens... > | 7) — 

Of the embankments, that at Cotterburn is of the 
length of 500 yards, and. will contain 200,000 cubical 
yards of earth. The extreme depth of cutting in the 
line of the road will be thirty-two feet. Besides the 
ceneral improvement of the line of road, these operations 
have opened many: fine prospects" of the neighbour- | 
ine beautifully-wooded and ‘highly-cultivated .country. 
The expense has amounted to between £20,000 and — 
£30,000; besides:a large sum of money which was pre-/ ; 


‘viously expended on the improvement of that part, of . 


the line which is situated between this district..and, 
Edinburgh: =. 5, Eh eth al og 

The city of Edinburgh stands within two miles of the | — 
great arm of the sea‘called the Frith.of Forth, which,,at 
the part iinmediately north from the Scottish capital, IS, 4 
about ‘seven”or eight miles broad. » Steam-boats ‘and 
other vessels put across this estuary at all hours from, 
Leith, the port of Edimburgh, and from Newhaven, , 


‘about'a’mile to the west’ of that’ town, -both to Burnt-._ 


island;-Pettyeur, and’Kinghorn, which are directly oppo, | 
site, and to Kirkaldy, Dysart, Leven, Ely, Pittenweem, | 
and Anstruther, which lie ‘farther to the east.. “The com-_ 
mon passage for travellers to the ‘north is from New- 
haven (where: there ‘is a chain pier) to Pettycur. -As) — 
this passage, however, is subject to be occasionally inter- 
rupted, (though since the introduction of steam navigation 
that is a circumstance which has’very rarely happened,) / 
the mail,’ instead of crossing here, proceeds along the 
coast of the river to Queensferry, about twelve miles far- 
ther west, where the channel is contracted to the width of | 
about a mile and a half. But before leaving Edinburgh _ 
we cannot help noticing, although not upon any of, the) 
rreat lines of road leading from that capital, the magni- 
ficent bridge, called the: Dean Bridge, which has lately... 
been’ thrown: across the chasin formed by the, river or 
water of Leith:to the north of the city. The reader will, 
find a notice of this ‘structure, which was only: finished. 
about the beginning of last year, in the “ Companion to. 


‘the Almanac” for 1832, By permission of the publishers 


1838] 


of the “ Encyclopedia Britannica,” we present an elgrav- 
ing of it, taken from one of the plates in the new edition 
of that work. This bridge, which has been erected after 
a design by Mr. Telford, almost at the sole expense of 
John “Learmouth, Esq., (late Lord Proyost,) to whose 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 293 
property it forms a communication, consists, it will be 
perceived, of two series of four arches each, the one sur- 
mounting the other. The span of each of the upper 
arches is “96 feet; and the road-way passes at the heicht 


ate SSS 
ot 


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[ify jy eel | al 
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sattttit abet) nad 


fi of Dean Bridge, — 


From Queensferry the present route of the mail is di- 
rectly north by Kinross to Perth, from which point, crossing 
the Tay by a bridge, it takes its way along the northern 
banks of that river in an eastern direction to Dundee, 
and from thence to Arbroath on:the coast. The common 
road, however, from Edinburgh to Dundee runs in 
nearly a straight line from Pettycur through the county 
of Fife, and across the Frith of Tay, which at Dundee is 


about two miles in breadth. There. is on this passage 


an excellent steam-boat, of a peculiar construction, the. 


paddles being placed in the middle as if there were two 
boats joined, and the form being such that it moves 
equally well with either end foremost. The distance 
from Edinburgh to Dundee, by this road, is not quite 
43 miles, whereas by that which the mail takes, for the 
sake principally of avoiding the two ferries over the 
Forth and the Tay, it is not less than 69 miles. . From 
Dundee to Arbroath is 17 miles more, so that the whole 
distance by this circuitous route: from Edinburgh to the 
latter place is 86 miles, the distance in a straight line 
being only about 50. In getting from Berwick to 
Arbroath, again, the mail travels about 143 miles, 
while a straight line drawn between these two points 
would not measure 60. ‘The voyage by sea from the 
one place to the other does not exceed: the last-mentioned 
distance. 

The road between Edinburgh and Montrose, which 
is twelve miles to the north of Arbroath, has been 
constructed at a cost of not less than £100,000, reckon- 
ine only the outlay since the commencement of the 
present century; but as only a small portion of this 
sunt has been expended within the last three or four 
years, the consideration of the improvements which it 
has effected does not fall within the scone of our present 


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remarks. 


of more than 120 feet above the level of the water below.: 


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We pass on, therefore, to notice the bride 
which has just been carried over the South Esk at Mon- 
trose. This town stands on the north bank of the river 
called the South Esk, which here falls into the German 
Ocean ; and we cannot better explain its singular situa- 
tion than by extracting the description given of it in a 
Report made in 1823 by Mr. Buchanan. 

‘The river South Esk, at Montrose, is remarkable 
for its broad, deep, and very rapid stream. But the 
sreat width of the river, and the current, deep and rapid 
beyond exainple indeed in this country, are not owing to 
the magnitude of the South Esk river itself, but to the 
singular manner in which the discharge of its waters 
into the sea is here combined with the action of the tides 
and the configuration of the adjacent gr ound. 

“ The town stands on a gently-nsing ground, in ‘one 
of those low sandy flats which occur so “frequently on the. 
shores of the German Ocean, and which, from their 
slicht elevation above the sea level, and other circum- 
stances, appear to have been once overflowed by the 
water. It has the German Ocean on the east, at the 
distance of about half a mile, and to the west is a tract 
of low and level sands, above four square miles in extent’ 
and nine miles in circumference, through which the 
South Esk winds its way to the sea, passing close to the 
ke on its south side. These sands lie below the level 

of high water, and above the level of low water; and the 
river opening a communication with the sea, rt neces- 

sarily happens, that every rising tide rushes up the chan- 
nel of the river, and inundates the whole of this sandy 
flat to the west of the town, which is again left uncovered 
by the reflux of the tide. ‘The channel through which 
this great body of water is alternately poured in and dis- 
charged, is suddenly contracted, at the south end of the 


294 


town, to the breadth of 700 feet at high water, and 400 
feet at low spring tides; and in consequence of this, the 
stream rushes in or out with great violence, according 
as the tide is either flowing or ebbing. This low land, 
over which, at each return of the tide, are spread the 
waters of the ocean, after they have made their way 
through the narrow channel of the South Esk, is called 
the Basin; which forms a striking object in the scenery 
of the place, appearing, when the tide is full, a large 
and beautiful lake, and in a few hours afterwards, 
when the waters have retired, a desolate and sandy 
marsh,” 

Between the basin and the sea, the river is at one 
place divided into two channels, by a small island called 
the Inch; but the two streams again unite into one be- 
fore they arrive at-the sea. About thirty years ago, 


when the road from Edinburgh to Aberdeen was first 
constructed, a wooden bridge was erected across the 
most northern of these channels, which is by far the 
broadest ; the other being crossed by a stone bridge of 
one arch, which is so narrow that, says Mr. Buchanan's 
Report, ‘it has contracted the channel of the river to 


At the 


at least one-fourth of its original breadth.” 


Ayuproage: : 

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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 












[Juny 27, 


same time the channel of the northern stream had been 
greatly contracted by the faulty construction of its 
wooden bridge. The effect of this unnatural confine- 
ment of so violent and rapid a stream has been to 
deepen the channel on the northern side, not less than 
five or six feet in many parts; so that the original 
bottom having been carried away, the foundations on 
which the piers rested were in danger of being under- 
mined. ‘To prevent this result wooden piles were driven 
in, which served as a sort of wall to repel the current. 
But, notwithstanding this expedient, the bridge was 
still found to labour under the incurable defects of its 
original construction. In particular the wood was so 
damaged by the ravages of sea worms, of the genus de- 
signated Oniscus, that the expense of keeping it in repair 
was very great. It was accordingly determined a few 
years ago to remove this wooden structure altogether, 
and to supply its place by a suspension bridge. Such a 
bridge has been accordingly erected, after a design by 
Captain Samuel Brown, of the Royal Navy. We present 
below an accurate sketch of it. The foundation-stone 
was laid on the 18th September, 1828, and the whole was 
completed by the 12th December, 1829. 




























ar mt 
ig Ff} 













—_\ 
H 
egver 


ta ida ied Aidveed tebe dis ike 

eh ee 

ee et eee & == = en Oe Oe 
pat 2 a. 


bs a 7 hae ed 
Liew eee ss eee See = Ls 
2 


[ Bridge over the South Esk at Montrose. ] 


The distance between the towers at the two extremities 
of this bridge, measured from the centre of each, is 432 
feet. The height of each tower is. seventy-one feet; 
namely, twenty-three feet and a half from the founda- 
tion to the roadway, forty-four feet from the roadway to 
the top of the cornice, and three feet and a-half forming 
the entablature. The breadth of each tower at the ter- 
mination of the cutwaters is forty feet and a half, and 
thirty-nine and a half at the roading. The archway 
by which each is perforated, is sixteen feet in width, by 
eizhteen in height. ‘The four counter-abutments for 
securing the chains. are respectively 115 feet distant 
from the towers, (reckoning from the centre of the tower 
to the face of the farthest wall of the chambers,) and con- 
sist each of an arched chamber, a strong counter-fort or 
abutment, a tunnel, and lying spandrel arch. “The width 
of the bridge is twenty-six, feet within the suspending 
rods. ‘The bars of which the main chains consist mea- 
sure eight feet ten inches from centre to centre of the 
bolt-holes, five inches broad between the shoulders, and’ 
one inch thick throughout. All the main links or bars 
are of the same thickness, except those in the towers, 
which are a sixteenth of an inch thicker, and of length to 
suit the curve of the cast iron saddles. Fach main sus- 
pending chain, of which there are two on each side of 
the bridge, one over the other, placed one foot apart, 
consists of four lines of chain bars. The joints of the 


upper main chains are over the middle of the long bar in } 





——-. 


er ee —es 
= — 





ee —__—_——_-- 
me - = 
Sl 


1 


Was . 





——— SEMI AK 


the lower chain; and the suspending rods, which support 
the beams on which the roadway is laid, are five feet 
distant from each other. The chains are of wrought 


_cable iron; the beams are of cast iron, formed with open 


spaces, twenty-six feet eight inches long, ten inches deep 
at the neck of the tenons, and one inch thick in every 


part between the flanges. The whole cost has heen a 


little above £20,000. - 

To this account: we have only to add, that the centre 
of the arch of the stone bridge which crosses the southern 
stream has also been taken down, and a revolving 
drawbridge erected in its stead, by which vessels are 
allowed to pass and repass. ‘The communication across 
the South Esk, at Montrose, therefore, may now be 
considered to be as perfect as it can be rendered or de- 
sired. 

From Montrose the road follows the line of the coast 
by Bervie and Stonehaven to Aberdeen, a distance of 
thirty-seven miles. The situation of New Aberdeen is 
extremely similar to that .of Montrose, standing, as it 
does, on the north side of the large and rapid river Dee. 
Until lately, the only bridge across this river was the 
magmficent old bridge erected by Bishop Elphinstone in 
the early part of the sixteenth century. Within the last 
three years, however, a suspension-bridge has been 
erected between the town, and a road made, at oreat 
expense, to communicate with the old one. Of this 
structure the:following is a representation. 


REAR RRR TREN NS 
ROW RRC ARR RAN RE 
COS 






[ Bridge over the Dee at Aberdeen. ] 


1633. ] 


In this bridge the width between the stone piers is 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


295 


As New Aberdeen is situated on the north side of 


200 feet; the breadth of the roadway is 22 feet ; and its | the Dee, so Old Aberdeen stands on the south side of 


height above high water is 18 feet. It is within the 
recollection cf many persons now alive, that the whole 
of the land at present in cultivation around Aberdeen 
was one brown heathery moor. Such is still the case 
with the whole district through which the above-men- 
tioned new road has just been completed; but from this 
operation we may probably date the commencement of a 
course of improvements which will ere long transform 
this hitherto bleak and sterile tract into cultivated and 
productive fields. And here, while speaking of New 
Aberdeen, we cannot help adverting to the small ex 
pense, both of money and of time, with which, thanks 
to steam navigation, a person residing even at so dis- 
tant a point as London may now accomplish a visit to 
this handsome northern city, remarkable for its rapid 
Increase, the industry of its inhabitants, and the fine 
granite buildings of which it is entirely constructed. 


The voyage by sea is very little, if anything, longer 


than to Edinburgh, and is usually performed by the 
steam-boats in little more than fifty hours. 


the Don. The Don, until within these few years, was 
crossed at Old Aberdeen by a very ancient bridge, 
called the Brig of Balgownie. We reter the reader 
to an interesting passage in Sir Thomas Dick Lauder’s 
volume, entitled “ An Account of the Great Floods of 
August, 1829, in the Province of Moray and adjoining 
Districts,” for some curious particulars regarding this 
structure. ‘ 

The new bridge of Don, which was built by Mr. Gibb, 
after a design by Mr. Telford, is about 520 feet in length, 


| and consists of five arches, éach of seventy-five feet span, 


and twenty-four feet rise. The total expense of the 
erection was £14,000. ‘The effect of this improvement 
is to shorten the road by about half a mile, and to avoid 
three steep hills over which it was formerly carried. This 
structure, although in an unfinished state when the creat 
flood of 1829 occurred. escaped on that occasion without 
injury. It was completed towards the end of the follow- 
ing year, We give a cut of this bridge. 





[Bridge over the Don at Aberdeen.] 


At Aberdeen the mail road leaves the coast, and pro- 
ceeds across the country in nearly a straight line by In- 
verury, Huntley, Keith, and Fechabers, to Elgin, the 
county-town of Morayshire. The whole distance from 
Aberdeen to Elgin is. sixty-seven miles. The road ts 
throughout excellent; and, notwithstanding that it passes 
over a great deal of hilly country, is so artfully con- 
ducted, that hardly a single heavy pull is encountered 
the whole way. Immediately beyond Fochabers it is 
met by the impetuous and formidable river Spey, form- 
ing the boundary of the province of Moray, which, not- 
withstanding its northern situation, is one of the fairest 
portions of the island, and one of those in which vegeta- 





<LEVATION OF PORTION OF OLD BRIDGE. 









= ~ ee a 


Approach from Feckabers.  Road-way on part of Old Bridge 


4 _— — . 
Dove ds GO Sg SRSA RAY ERAN GS CTT TE CRSSANNE HE NSF RESO NS SANNA St 
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10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 


Various bridges over the river Findhorn, which bounds } 


Morayshire to the west, and: over -the stream of the 
Lossie, on which the town of Elgin stands, were swept 
away on the same occasion ; so that the country was at 
once cut off from all communication with surréunding 
parts. Active measures, however, have since been 
taken to repair the ruin producéd by this visitation, and 
new bridges have already been erected ii the line of the 
ereat road over all the three rivers. , 
The bridge at Elgin, over the Lossie, of eiohty feet 
span, is partly of cast metal and partly of timber. - We 


give a representation of this bridge in the next page, 


from a lithographic print executed at Elgin. That over 
the Findhorn, which is a suspension bridge, is repre- 
sented at the beginning of the article. 






———— 





90 100 


ceeds. 


tion is earliest. It used, however, to be in a manner se- 
parated and cut off from the rest of the country by this 
dangerous mountain-torrent, until about twenty-five 
years ago, when a bridge was first built across ib at 
Fochabers. It consisted of four arches, of which two 
were of ninety-five and two of seventy-five feet span 
each, the total leneth of water-way being 340 feet. But 


this bridge, during the floods of August, 1829, which 
destroyed or damaged nearly one hundred others, had 
the two arches next the left bank carried away, of which 
Sir Thomas Dick Lauder has given a striking account. 
This bridge has been since repaired, us represented 
below. 






184 feet. 





ELEVATION OF NEW BRIDGE 


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160 180 200 feet. 





120 140 

From Elgin the mail proceeds along the coast of the 
Moray Frith to Inverness, and from thence westward 
to the termination of that estuary, when it crosses the 
Beauly Water, and ascends northwards te Dingwall, on 
the Frith of Cromarty. Pursuing for some time the 
direction of the northern coast of that Frith, it then 
arrives at Tain on the Dornoch Frith, which it crosses 
by Meikle Ferry ; after which the road runs alone the 
éoust for seventy miles, till it leaves it at Wick, and cuts 
across the country to Thurso on the Northern Ocean. 
This:is the farthest point to which the London mail pro- 
Thurso, by the road which has been described, 
is 783 miles distant from London; and the journey is 
now accomplished by the mail, all stoppages included, in 


four days and fifty minutes. 


296 


The portion of the road which has just been described 
from the Beauly Water to Thurso has been constructed 
and is maintained in repair by the commissioners ap- 
pointed under the act of parliament for superintending 
Highland roads and bridges. The works conducted by 
the parliamentary commissioners from the year 1803, 
when they commenced their operations, have done more 
to advance the civilization of the Highlands than all the 
other attempts of government for that purpose in the 
course of the preceding century.. Speaking of what had 
been done up to 1817, Mr. Telford, the engineer, 
asserts, in a statement which will be found quoted at 
greater length in the “ Results of Machinery,’ chap. vii., 
that the money then expended “ had been the means of 
advancing the country at least one hundred years.” 
The report made by the commissioners in 1828 :(the 
fourteenth) contains an interesting comimunication, ad- 
dressed: to the late Lord Colchester, by Mr. Joseph 
Mitchell, on the improved state of the Highlands ‘since 
the commencement of the works executed by the com- 
missioners; with an abstract of a few of: the statements 
presented in report which we may fitly conclude the 
present paper. | 

So little communication was then wont to be between 
the northern counties of Scotland and the south, owing 
to the want of roads, that, until of late years, the coun- 
ties of Sutherland and Caithness were not required to 
return jurors to the circuits at Inverness. ‘“* Before the 
commencement of the. present century, no public coach, 
or other regular vehicle of conveyance, existed in the 
Highlands. © It was: not till 1806 and 181] that 
coaches were regularly established in these directions, 
being the first that ran on ‘roads-in the Highlands. 
Since the completion of the parliamentary works, 
several others have successively commenced; and dur- 
ing the summer of last’ year, no less than seven dif- 
ferent stage-coaches passed daily to and from Inverness, 





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making forty-four coaches arriving at, and the same 


number departing from, that town in the course of every 


week, * * * Post-chaises, and other modes of travelling, 


have, during the same period, increased proportionably ; 
and, instead of five post-chaises, which was the number 
kept in.the town of Inverness about the year 1803, there 
are now upwards of a dozen, besides two establish- 
ments for the hire of eigs and riding horses. * * * 
The. number of private carriages in Inverness and its 
vicinity has likewise increased remarkably during the 
last twenty-five years, and no less than 160 coaches may 
now be :seen attending the Inverness yearly races ; 
whereas, at the commencement of that period, the 
whole extent of the Highlands could scarcely produce a 
dozen; and at no very. distant date previously, a four- 
wheeled carriage was an object of wonder and veneration 
to the inhabitants. In 1715, the first coach or chariot 
seet! in. Inverness is said to have been brought by the 
Karl of Seaforth. In 1760, the first post chaise was 


‘brought to Inverness, and was for a considerable time 
the only four-wheeled carriage in the district. 


arrle There 
are at present four manufactories for carriages at In- 
verness.” 

Formerly there were no inns; inns are now built, 
except in one instance, along all the roads constructed 
by the commissioners, extending. in length to upwards 
of 900 miles. The mails, which used to be carried only 
on runners’ backs, are now sent to all the considerable 
towns in coaches, and three or four.times a week to 
places off the direct line of road, to which they used to 
come only once. Finally,- Agriculture has received a 
prodigious impulse from these improvements ; the value 
of property has been greatly.increased;. trade has been 
promoted ; and the.general condition of even the, poorest 
of the inhabitants has-been ameliorated-by;. numerous 
accommodations and comforts whichiwere formerly en- 


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*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Flelds. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALJ, EAST. ian 





Printed by Wititam CLowrs, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


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Tuts river is much celebrated in the ancient history of 
the Greeks. It ran close by the city of Sparta, and was 
the scene of many important events. In very early ages 
it was styled the river, of Marathon,—then the Himere,— 
and, at a later period, obtained the name of Eurotas. 

It rises near the source of the Alpheus, another stream 
of classical celebrity, in the territory of Megalopolis in 
Peloponnesus, (now the Morea, and a portion of the 
new Greek kingdom). According to Strabo and Pau- 
sanias, both the Eurotas and the Alpheus run hidden 
under ground for the space of some stadia*, after 
which they re-appear, and issue forth, the one into 
Laconia, and the other into what was anciently the coun- 
try of the Pise, at the west of the Peloponnesus. Colonel 
Leake seems inclined to doubt more than one of the 
wonderful stories told of these two classical rivers. - The 
facts he gives from his own observation are, that the 
Alpheus rises at the distance of five stadia from Asea, 
(the ruins of which city are still visible) a short way 
from the road,—that the source of the Eurotas is close 
by the road-side, and near to the fountain of the Al- 
pheus,—that a roofless temple, dedicated to Cybele, and 


* Eight stadia make an Italian, which is a little more than an 
English mile. 


Vor. II, 


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THE EUROTAS. 








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[ View of the River Eurotas. ] 


two lions, cut in stone, ornament the source of the 
Alpheus, while the waters of the Eurotas (now, at least,) 
gurgle forth unhonoured by the presence of any work of 
art; and, finally, that the two streams uniting, flow 
together for twenty stadia in one bed, when they descend 
a chasm and separate. \anaal 
A little to the south of Sparta, a romantic torrent 
called Pandeleimona joins the Eurotas, whose waters 
are besides swelled by a number of streams descending 
chiefly from the Taygetum, and finding their way through 
hollows in the chain of low hills on which the Spartan’ 
capital once stood. : 
On the site of Sparta, at the time of Colonel Leake’s 
visit, there were only two small villages,—Maecula, con- 
sisting of four or five huts, and Psykhiko, of fourteen or 
fifteen,—and even these have probably disappeared 
during the horrors of revolutionary and partisan warfare. 
All the level ground of the site was then cultivated with 
Facing a hollow inthe middle of the bank of 
hills on which the city stood, are the remains of a bridge 
over the Ikurotas. At the head of this bridge the roads 
from all the eastern part of the Lacedemonian territory 
centred, and the hollow at the other end of the bridge 


| led directly into the Agora or great public square of 


298 THE PENNY 


Sparta,—the general mart and the place where all 
public business was transacted. 

The Spartan plain, the river, and the surrounding 
mountains, ail immortalized by poetry and history, are 
of surpassing grandeur and beauty. They are seen to 
the greatest advantage from the neighbouring castle of 
Mistra, an important geographical position, about 500 
feet above the level of the Eurotas. Colonel Leake 
thus describes this view :— 

“The mountains to the north, east, and south, are 
spread before the spectator from Artemisium, on the con- 
fines of Argolis and Arcadia, to the island of Cythera in- 
clusive, together with a small part of the Laconic gulf, 
just within that island. All the plain of Sparta is in 
view, except the south-west corner, which is concealed 
by a projection of Mount Taygetum. Towards the 
mountain the scene is equally grand, though of a 
different nature. A lofty summit of Taygetum, im- 
mediately behind the castle, three or four miles distant, 
is clothed with a forest of firs, and now deeply covered 
with snow; the nearer slopes of the mountain are 
variegated with the vineyards, corn-fields, and olive- 
plantations belonging to the villages situated on opposite 
sides of the ravine of the Pandeleiinona, which winds 
from the southward in the direction of the highest sum- 
mit of Taygetum. This remarkable peak is not much 
inferior to any of the highest points of the Peloponnesus, 
and is more conspicuous than any, from its abrupt 
sharpness. I cannot learn at Mistréd any modern name 
for Mount Taygetum, except the very common one of 
Aia Elia, or Saint Elias, who, like Apollo of old, seems 
to delight in the protection of lofty summits.” 

And in another place Colonel Leake says, that the 
country round Sparta ‘* presents a variety of the sib- 
limest and most beautiful scenery, such as we hardly 
find equalled in any other part of picturesque Greece 
itself.” 

After the river Eurotas has washed the feet of the 
now solitary hills of Sparta, and flowed through the 
Spartan plain, it winds through a long, narrow valley 
to Helos, the city of the unfortunate Helots, and there 
falls into the sea between Gythium, the ancient sea-port 


of Sparta, of which considerable remains still exist, and | 


Acria, another maritime place that has left no traces of 
its existence except some small and scattered fragments 
of walls, and the base of a single column. 

In ancient times the EKurotas was celebrated for the 
number and beauty of the swans that sailed upon its 
tranquil waters. These graceful birds are not mentioned 
by modern travellers, who, however, describe another 
incident which characterized the old river. This is the 
growth, in the bed of the Hurotas, and more particularly 
towards its mouth, of a prodigious quantity of fine, tall, 
and strong reeds. The Spartans of old, whose grand 
object was to forin a hardy fearless race, made their chil- 
dren go and gather these reeds with their hands, without 
Knives or any other instrument to assist them. And these 
reeds worked into mats formed their only bed and bed- 
ding, or to translate the words of an old French writer, 
they were “‘ tle mattress, feather-bed, sheets, and cover- 
lets of the warlike Spartans *,” 

This iron race of nen were also accustomed to plunge 
their infants into the Eurotas to inure them by times to 
the severities of cold. These immersions must have often- 
times been cold indeed, for in the spring or early sum- 
mer months, the bed of the river is chiefly filled by melted 
snow which descends from the adjacent mountains, and 
from the shortness of ifs course has not time to raise its 
temperature. 


* The reeds of the Eurotas, which wete perfectly straight, strong, 
and variegated in their colours, were applied to several other pur- 
poses. The Spartans made arrows of, them, pens, martial fifes or 
flutes : of the flay or leafy part they made wreaths which they wore 
on their heads at some of their sober festivals. 


MAGAZINE. [Avaust 8, 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—MARCO POLO.—No. 1. 


THe fame of all the old travellers, great as it deservedly 

is in many instances, is eclipsed by that of Mareo Polo; 

who, however, more perhaps than any of them, was dis- 

credited by doubt and disbelief, and has only becn rescued 

from the imputation of being the least to be credited of 
them all, by the discoveries and researches of our own 

days. 

This extraordinary man descended from a noble family 
of Venice, which came originally from Dalmatia, on the 
opposite side of the Adriatic Sea. In Venice, fortunately 
for her, commerce was not considered incompatible with 
nobility of birth or antiquity of descent. ‘There, as at 
Genoa her rival, the proudest and highest of the aris- 
tocracy devoted themselves to commercial pursuits; and 
Nicolo Polo and Maffeo Polo, the father, and the uncle 
of Marco, were merchants, who, in partnership, traded 
chiefly with the East, the valuable productions of which 
were supplied by the Italian republics alone to the west 
of Europe. 

The circumstances attending Marco’s birth and youth 
are interesting and melancholy. Tempted by the pro- 
spect of some brilliant speculations in that great mart, 
his father and his uncle both set out from Venice for 
Constantinople. His father was a traveller when young 
Marco came into the world; nor did he or his unele 
return to their native country, until Marco, who was to 
be a greater traveller even than they, had attained his 
sixteenth year. Nor was the absence, of a father’s care 
supplied by a mother’s tenderness,—his mother died 
shortly after giving him birth, so that he had grown up 
without having known either of his parents. 

The causes which had led to the prolonged wander- 
ings of the elder Poli were these :— 

On their arrival at Constantinople, which was then in 
possession of the Franks, haviiig been conquered some 
years before by a conjoint armament of French and 
Venetians, Nicolo and his brother disposed of the Italian 
merchandise the y had carried thither, and looked about 
as to how they could best employ the capital they had 
realized by the sale of those goods. While doing this 
they learned that a new, a distant, but a promising market 
for costly articles'which could be easily carried, had 
arisen on the banks of the Wolga among the Western 
Tartars, who, after doing incalculable mischief to many 
provinces of Asia and of Europe, had quictly settled and 
even built cities neat to that river. 

As soon as they were well assured of this fact, the 
two enterprising brothers converted their money into 
valuable jewels said to be in demand amony the ‘Vartars, 
and in the year 1254 or 1255 departed by sea from Con- 
stantinople, crossed the Euxine or Black Sea, and landed 
on the Crimea. Proceeding thence, sometimes by land, 
and at others by water, they at last reached the court or 
camp of the ‘Tartar Prince Barkah. who was erandson - 
to the great conqueror Gengis-Khan. ‘This prince not 
only treated them with justice, but with hich considera- 
tion and munificence. The Poli stayed twelve montlis 
with him, and learned his language. At the end of that 
period they would have returned homewards with the 
double profits they had made, but just at the moment 
hostilities broke out hetween their protectors and another 
nation or horde of Tartars, and cut off their road to 
Constantinople. On this disappointment they deter- 
mined to pursue a safe but very circuitous route that led 
them by the head of the Caspian Sea, the river Jaxartes, 
and the deserts of Transoxiaiia to the celebrated and 
commercial city of Bokhara. 

Lhe brothers pérformed this arduous journey and 
reached Bokhara in safety. Whilst staying there a 
Tartar ambassador, on his way to Kublai-Khan, the 
great conqueror of Chita, rested at Bokhara ant! made 
their acquaintance. This noble envoy was so delighted 


1833.] 


with their wit and intelligence, and their speaking the 
Tartar language, that he endeavoured to induce them 
to forego for the present all thoughts of heme, and ac- 
company him to Kublai-Khan’s court. ‘Their return 
into Europe was beset by increasing difficulties resulting 
from wars and revolutions—before them was a prospect 
of great gain and good treatment; so, accordingly, the 
adventurous brothers, recommending themselves to the 
protection of God, agreed to accompany the Tartar 
ambassador to what was then considered the extremity 
of the eastern world. Starting -from Bokhara, they 
travelled a whole year before they reached the grand 
khan or emperor's residence. 

Kublai, who for his race and age was a very enlight- 
ened sovereign, gave the Poli a gracious and encouraging 
reception. As their familiarity at court increased, in the 
course of lone conversations with the khan they gave 
him ample information as to the potentates of the western 
world, and more particularly the pope, whose influence 
in propelling the hordes of Europe upon Asia, in the 
crusades, rendered him important in the eyes of Kublai. 


So satisfied was the Tartar conqueror with all they-told | 


him, aud so convinced was he of their integrity, from 
the experience he had had of them in matters of com- 
merce, that he resolved they should make the best of their 
way back to Italy, and, accompanied by an officer of 
his court, repair to Rome, as his ambassadors to the 
pope. After a long stay, they therefore took their leave 
of Kublai, and set out to retrace their steps to Europe. 
Unfortunately the Tartar nobleman who was to accom- 
pany them soon sunk under. ill-health and the fatigues of 
the journey ; ‘and they were obliged to leave him belund: 
but under favour of the imperial tablet or passport *, 
they travelled on towards the Mediterranean, and in 
three years—and not sooner !—arrived at a sea-port in 
the kingdom of Lesser Armenia. Here they embarked, 
and in April, 1269, reached the famous city of Acre, 
then in possession of the crusaders. 

The see of Rome was then vacant by the death of 


Clement IV., and, as was not rarely the case, during the | 


middle ages, the Sacred College was long ere it elected 
anew pope. Waiting until there should be a-pontiff to 
whom they might present themselves as Kublais am- 
bassadors, and naturally anxious to see their home after so 
many years of absence, the Poli embarked in a ship bound 
for the Euboea (now Negropont) and Venice. On their 
arrival at Venice they found that Marco was approaching 
the years of manhood, and that he had been well brought 
up. The Sacred College was distracted by inveterate 
factions, who could not agree in the election of a pope. 
After the brothers Poli had waited two years in Italy in 
vain for that event, they resolved to repair to the Romish 
levate at Acre, who might, to a certain extent, assume 
the functions of a pope. Accordingly they left Venice, 
accompanied by Marco who was now between seventeen 
and eighteén years old, and whose youthful imagination 
was inflamed by the recitals of his father’s and uncle's 
travels to the remote regions of the Kast. _ 

The legate at Acre, Tebaldo di Vicenza, listened 
favourably to the suggestions of the Poli, and furnished 
them witli letters for the Tartar emperor. But scarcely 
had the travellers embarked at Acre when intelligence 
was received that the cardinals had, at last, elected a 
pope, wlio was the legate Tebaldo. ‘The new pope sent 
messengers to overtake the Poli, who retnrned, and 
were soon after dismissed with letters papal of more dig- 
nified style, and the popes benediction. ‘T'wo monks 
were also added to their retinue as bearers of Gregory’s 
present to Kublai, and as persons fitting to carry on the 
‘work of conversion. The friars, however, had not the 


.| * Passports existed in China many centuries before they were 
adopted in Europe. A Chinese passport is a much better thing 
than a European one, as it insures the bearer gratuitous accommo- 
dation, and, generally, food on the road, 


THE PENNY 


fof Kublai-Khan. 


MAGAZINE. 999 
zeal and courage of the merchants, for on finding that 
the Sultan of Egypt was invading part of the country 
they had to traverse, they left the Poli, and hastened 
back to the coast. A, 

Marco and his father and uncle meanwhile struck 
boldly into the interior of Asia. ‘They followed a north- 
easterly course, availing themselves of the protection 
of caravans as they occurred, and seem to have gone 
through the Greater Armenia, Persian Irak, Khorasan, 
and by the trading city of Balkh into the country of 
Badakhshan, where, near to the sources of the river 
Oxus, they tarried a whole year. This long stay may 
have arisen from their being obliged to wait for the 
formation of a powerful caravan to cross the dangerous 
chains of mountains—the Belut-tag and Muz-tag,—or 
from a severe illness .young Marco suffered at this place, 
or, still more probably, from the union of these two 
causes. ‘Their time, however, was not unprofitably 
spent, for though they did not visit those regions, they 
obtained from native travellers a knowledge of Kashmir, 
and other countries on the confines of India. 

When they left the country of Badakhshan and the 
sources of the Oxns, they proceeded through the great 
valley then called Vokhan. ‘After this valley their road 
ascended to the lofty and wild regions of Pamer and 
Beldr, which are still imperfectly known to geography, 
and which Marco describes as being so high that no 
birds are found on them and fire burns dully near their 
summits. A sign of a human habitation or a blade of 
erass was not seen for many days, and the district of 
Beldr, moreover, was infested by a tribe of cruel savages 
clad in the skins of wild beasts. 

After fifty-two days’ hard travelling in these inhos- 
pitable regions, the Poli arrived safely at the city of 
Kashgar, a place of great trade and resort for caravans, 
which had been till lately the capital of an independent 
state, but was now included in the spreading dominions 
Marco’s description of this place, 
which still is, as it then was, the emporium for the 
trade between Tartary, India, and China, will give 
our readers a good notion of the concise, pithy style, 
in which the old Italian traveller described what he 
had seen. 

‘‘ Its inhabitants are of the Mahometan religion. 
The province is extensive, and contains many towns 
and castles, of which Kashgar is the largest and most 


important. The language of the people is peculiar to 
themselves. ‘They subsist by commerce and manufac- 


ture, particularly works of cotton. They have hand- 
some gardens, orchards, and vineyards. Abnndance of 
cotton is produced tliere, as well as flax and hemp. 
Merchants from this country travel to all parts of the 
world; but in truth they are a covetons, sordid race, 
eating badly and drinking worse. Beside the Maho- 
metans there are among the inhabitants several Nesto- 
rian Christians, who ure permitted to live under their 
own laws, and to have their churches. The extent of 
the province is five days’ journey *.” 

The still more celebrated city of Samarkand lay far 
to the west of their present ronte ; but Marco, who it 
should seem visited that place at a later period when in 
the service of Kublai-Khan, mentions it incidentally here. 
On guitting Kashgar the travellers went through the 
Alpiue regions of Yerken or Yarkuud, where Marco 
observed that the inhabitants were afflicted with elephan- 
tiasis in their legs, and with goitres or huge swellings 
in their necks. Ile describes the inhabitants of these 
regions as beiag much addicted to trade, and as culti- 
vating very extensively not only grain and cotton, but 
flax and hemp. 

* Marsden’s Translation, 


(‘Lo be continued. | 





2Q2 


300 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aucusr 8, 


THE GRAIN WORMS. : 
TABLE A, 


—— 


——————— 
SS es 
—— SS 
= =e =z t 
——e 
Sas 


~ = 
~. o— 
= > - 
= =. _— 
one 


ti 


i 
Hi! 
Hai ‘ei 
Hee f/f 
i |] 
\ bat) HY 


f 
ATLA 
/ 
ij 


| | 
Hi 
} ’ 
Ifiegs fHn 
eS 6S) 
i | if YY 
if ff ; 4 
HH f) y 


j 
‘ 


\ aA ed Vb bg? 


| 
: REAL Mi 
‘\ \ Mil 
ACE 

Rae, Sila inpeagee? 

Sey ae a 


a) 
EE oA 4A 
eae 5, i, 
a a * 2% Leff 
> coin a wee, ee Ab fff, 
=e - a ote an, = a = o 
Si ie eee Se % 
=”. - i= 
= = = 
es S S 





a 
iP 
, & 


Gn 
any 


FP tye 
1 tt 
' 


iL) 
a, 


\, 

Ls ‘ 
Ir any, 
er Le i} 


* Hn 
tty 
‘ \% iy : 


i 
sh 


oo) I Mal 


——— 


—, 


—  o 
See - al ae “Oe on 
si 3 
9 we 
a, we betes == - =~ 
Fae ee Sx 
Ep ee 652 pe — SS 
= «fie : ws <2 
—— C = 
= F r 
ir 


4; 


Ht 
f 
Uy 
ifghe f 
Wy fs y Uf 
iff y if 
ae aff FF 


es 
q 


[The Grain Worms—Vibrio Trittct.] 


We have received an interesting paper upon the Grain 
Worms (Vibrio Triticz), from the correspondent who 
furnished the former papers on the Smut Bails, or 
Pepper Brand, and the Smut, or Dust Brand. As, 
however, it is too long for one Number, and cannot 
be thoroughly comprehended without the explanatory 
figures, we have this week given the tables, and shall 


in the followine Number give the remainder of the 


communication, 
z EXPLANATION OF TABLE A. 
{ Hach of the figures in this table are magnified 10 times in diameter 


or 100 ti rficially. 
oo mes superficially. ] 


1, A germen infected with grain worms from the apex of a.wheat-. 


ear, before it had emerged from its hose; examined the Sth of 
June, 1808, 


Fig. 
2. A transverse section of the same, containing one single larze 
worm but no eggs. 


3. An infected gernien from the base of the same ear. 


4. A transverse section of the same, containing one large single 
worm and some eggs. 
5. A somewhat larger germen, examined the 13th of June. 
6. A transverse section of the same, containing two large worms 
and many eggs, 
7. An infected germen, examined June the 21st. 
8. A transverse section of the same, containing several large 
worms, many eggs, and some newly hatched lively worms. 
9. 4 somewhat larger germen or grain, examined the 27th of 
une. 
10. A transverse section of the same, contaiaing several large and 
several young worms, and a great many eggs. 
11. An infected grain, examined the 15th of July, 1808, 


eo 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 301 

Fig. y Fig. 
12, A transverse section of the same, containing seven large worms the other was perfectly sound, there were also two stunted 

of different sizes, some laying their eggs, some not quite ma- anthers in that floret. 

ture, many young worms, and a great many eggs. 19, “A transverse section of the infected germen which contained 
13. An infected grain nearly divided into two parts, examined one large worm. : 

July the 15th, 20. The sound germen, after the infected one was removed, 
14. A transverse section of the same containing several large worms, | 21. A transverse section of the sound germen. 

some laying their eggs, some already dead, a great many young | 22. Another double grain found in one floret of a plant the seed 

live worms, and many eggs. corn of which had been inoculated with the worms and with 
15. A full grown infected wheat grain, examined July the 30th, the fungi of the smutballs; both diseases had taken effect - 

just beginning to change its colour. examined July the 18th, 1808. One grain was found infected 
16. A transverse section of the same, the cellular tissue divided into with worms and fungi, and the other with fungi only; there 

two cavities filled to excess with young worms all alive, but no was also one small anther in this singular floret. 

trace of the old worms, nor of the eggs existed. 23. A transverse section of the same: in the germen A, are two 
17. A longitudinal section of the same, nests or groups of worms, closely adhering to some remains of 
18, A double germen found in one floret of an inoculated plant, the cellular tissue; the other germen B is entirely filled with 

examined June the 5th, 1808; the seed corn was inoculated the fungi of the uredofetida or smut balls, and has no trace of 

with worms, and one germen proved infected with worms and | the cellular tissue. 

Tas.e B. 


| - | | ; ' ys 
t Lt ia) F ne Ye 


ti sh , ( te | 


a ih 


eh 
| 


SW inet 4 
eS % dilliun 


° ¢ 









Kae 
tits 
i tifa 


ise, ; 


r 


a! 


= 

n 
ve 
= 
uy 
= 


bs, 
% 


mA 





ies * 


[The Grain Worms—Pibrio Tritici. ] 


802 


ExpLANATION o¥ Tabpuze B. 


(In this table the figures 1. to 5. inclusive are magnified 10 times 
ii <iiameter or 100 times superficially ; figures 6, to 9. are mag- 
nified 200 times in diameter or 40,000 times superficially ; and 
fizure 10. is magnified.60 times in diameter or 3600 times 
superficially. } 

Lite 

}. A front and fig. 2 a back view of an infected npe wheat gram, 
exainined August the 5th, 1805. ) 
3. A longitudinal section of the same filled with hundreds of 
worms cemented toyether, in a torpent state, 
4. A trausverse section of the same. | 
5. The transverse section of a grain nearly mpe, which was inocu- 
jafed and infected with the worms and the fungi of the smut- 
balls, coutaining several large and some small worms, and 
filled with the fungi of uredofcetida or smutballs. — , 

. A newly laid egg with the young worm.visibly coiled up in it. 

. A young worm in the act of extricating itself from the egg. | 

. An egg from which the worm is recently come out, after which 
the egg soon shrivels and decays. 

. A young worm which had been some time extricated from the 

e868. | ) 

A vroup of grain worms of all sizes, as seen under water in the 

field of the microscope, examined July the 15th, 1808: at A 

is one of the largest .parent worms, in the act of laying or 

casting its eggs; at B is a smaller parent worm not yet come 
to maturity ; the rest are young worms all very lively. 


Se) O23 SO) 


1: 


ERUPTION OF MOUNT TNA IN 1832. 


[The following valuable communication is from an Mnglish gentle- 
man who visited Mount A‘tna immediately after the eruption in 
November last; and we hope to present our readers with an ac- 
count of his ascent of the same mountain. | 

Tue present convulsion was quite unexpected. Although 
for the last two years we have had in our neighbourhood 
several very clear proofs that the materials of combustion 
were in motion, yet they none of them seemed to proceed 
from this mountain, which has always been regarded as 
the focus of these phenomena. .Such, for example, has 
been the recent eruption of Vesuvius, preceded only a 
few months by an awful and destructive earthquake im 
Calabria, whereby the town of Catanzara suffered so 
materially in loss of property and lives. Previous to 
this was the appearance and disappearance of Graham’s 
island, as the English called it, but St. Ferdinand’s as 
named by the Neapolitans, which, while the dispute 
lasted concerning the name to be given it, put an end to 
tle question by dropping its head under water again. 
Ali these show the elements below were at work. Mes- 
sina felt several shocks of earthquakes, but it seemed 
as though that city felt only the remote effects of the 
subterraneous tempest, as on inquiry it was found that 
others northward had felt it stronger, and Catania, as 
well as the towns on Adtna, had not felt anything. 

You will readily conceive that all Sicily was greatly 
astonished to see Adtna break out with such fury in the 
beginning of last November. The first alarm was given 
on the dist October, when there opened, about three 
miles below the grand crater or summit, in a niche 
called the Valle del Serbo, a small volcano, which 
emitted smoke and fire only a few days. On the 3rd 
November, however, appearances began to wear a more 
formidable aspect. Seven small mouths were formed, 
about three miles lower than the first one. These being 
very close together, by the subsequent throes of the 
mountain became united into but two-or three. It was 
from one of these mouths, now of considerable magnitude, 
that all the lava issued. ‘The side of the mountain where 
the Valle del Serbo lies, is about W. S. W. from the 
grand crater, and in‘-direction just over the town of 
Bronte. 

Explosions were not very great in this eruption, and 
the quantity of stones and ashes ejected was not 
alarming. ‘The progress of the lava was, however, highly 
so. Situated as the voleano was, on a very steep emi- 
nence, the first few days it flowed down’ the mountain 
with terrific rapidity; on arriving at more level ground 
it moved more slowly, and the stream began to widen. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auausr 3, 


Here commenced the damage to the proprietors of 
land. The upper regions of Adtna are so cold as scarcely 
to be available for the purposes of tillage or cultivation. 
Lower down commences the Woody Region, which 
consist of large forest trees. Below these lie the Plains, 
which are mostly laid out in vineyards, the slope of them 
being very gradual, and here it was that when the liquid 
fire arrived there was most cause for alarm. 

The direction which the lava first took was that of a 
straight line downwards, which it continued for about a 
mile, after which, meeting with the valley which divides 
Monte Gitto and Monte Lepre, it branched off in a 
southerly direction; it ran for about four miles thus, 
when it stopped. It now took another course, (from 
the place where it had first deviated from the direct line,) 
branching off afresh between Monte Gitto and Monte 
Malletta. It continued its course uninterrupted here, 
curving round the base of the mountains it met with, 
and, finally, coming direct upon Bronte, which place 
it might probably have reached, but for an extensive 
valley which so effectually protected it from injury from 
the lava, that it must have required, it is supposed, more 
than two months, of an equally violent flow. of lava, to 
fill up this valley so as to put the town even in jecpardy. 
On a former occasion this valley, which almost sur- 
rounds the town like a moat, turned the course of 
the fluid on each side of it; so that while a tract of 
country several miles below Bronte, and farther from 
the crater, was completely ruined, this city, owing to 
its peculiar situation, remained untouched. As it was, it 
did not even reach so far, though within a mile and a 
half of it, having run a distance of about twelve miles 
from its commencement. 

The breadth of the stream of lava was at its widest 
part a mile and a half; but this was in the lower regions, 
where it was not enclosed between the different mounts, 
but had spread considerably. This was certainly alarm- 
ing, but engineers came from Catania to ascertain the 
state of the country, and to endeavour to turn the course 
of the fire, should Bronte stand in danger. This of 
course would: have been ridiculous, were it not for the 
natural auxiliaries of situation, without which nothing 
Short of madness could attempt to resist such a body of 
this terrible compound as now threatened. This lava, 
though very long in cooling, is not long in becoming 
solid, which it does, retaining its red heat. Brydone says 
that it can, by a very violent heat, be fused, but I cannot 
find that this has ever been done. The density of the 
state in which it arrives, after a passage of twelve miles, 
may be imagined as considerably greater than at its first 
outset. The flow is proportionably less rapid. This 
will in some measure account for the inconsistency in the 
reports respecting its violence, which some made out as 
tremelidous, and which caused many persons to remove 
their furniture and effects from Bronte, under the appre- 
hension that it would continue with the same velocity. 

Nothing serves to convey a more sublime idea of the 
extent of this fire, than the fact of its being capable of 
continuing in a course of twelve miles witliout becoming 
solid. For not only does it retain this heat, but it 
linparts it to the loose stones and lava of former erup- 
tions, which it encounters, in a nearly equal degree. 
During the greater part of its passage, it had to cross 
the tracts of lava-stone many centuries old. The stones 
though loose, have been suffered to lie, as, from their 
size and quantity, the trouble of removing them wouid 
never be repaid; as I am informed the soil lies many 
fathoms below, and the expense would be enormous. 

I saw it on the 19th November: for several days 
previous the explosions had ceased, and ashes were no 
longer thrown out. The lava was then running into 
the valiey behind Bronte, part of its course being: inter- 


| cepted to the view by the layers of stones which I have 


mentioned ; for the Java, being liquid, naturally sank to 


1833.] 


the bottom, leaving the surface covered for a considerable 
space. ‘This, it must be owned, interrupted the beauty of 
the sight as a spectacle, as we all had anticipated a com- 
plete united mass of fire. Many who had come only to 
gratify their organs of vision, had set their expectations 
on a stream of fire, twelve miles long, and one and a 
half broad. But, owing to the curvilinear direction 
which it took, not more than three or four miles of it 
were visible at once, and it was only that breadth at its 
very widest part, at which period it had arrived at tlie 
more level parts of the mountain; when, being shallower 
than in the close deep ravines higher up, encountering a 
rock of ordinary size was sufficient to make a breach in 
the surface, which the eye detected. It was, however, a 
sight grand in the extreme. 

At the valley above Bronte, the eruption may be said 
to have ceased. I*or several days nothing but a faint 
expiring flame was discernible at the crater, and the lava 
gradually flowed weaker and weaker, so that before the 
end of the month aj} those unruly combustibles, which 
had excited so much curiosity and alarm, had nearly 
subsided; a little continued even a few days after, fol- 
lowing nearly the course of the other, but, from its di- 
minutive volume, not being able to retain its liquid 
state more than for a mile or two. Before the year 
1832 had closed, everything was quiet, but the lava 
will scarce have cooled for another twelve months, 
with such amazing heat does this fire issue from its 
abodes, and with such tenacity does it retain its influence. 
I cannot find that in any of the eruptions of Aitna, 
the lava runs for more tlian twelve or fifteen miles. 
All will depend upon the inclination of the grcund it 
has to pass, and on its own volume. ‘The eruption 
which came to Catania in 1669, generally accounted one 
of the most formidable ever known, proceeded from 
Monte Rossi (Brydone calls it, [ think, Monpelieri), about 
twelve miles from the city, and eighteen from the 
main crater at the top... It threw itself into the sea 
at Catania, and it even appears astonishing how it can 
be kept so long in a state of liquefaction. The heat is 
felt at an immense distance. We were sometimes en- 
veloped in a foe, and saw it only at intervals; but we 
always felt the warmth. | 

The devastation committed by the lava iu its pro- 
eress was indeed terrible. No object, however large, 
escaped. I watched the fate of an eltn tree in full 
erowth: on seéiii¢ the fire approach, I wished to notice 
how long it would be constiming. ‘lo my surprise, I 
sdw it flare, and as suddenly extinguish, not a vestige 
of it remaining. From the intense heat I should sup- 
pose that it miust have beeti ‘very little else than char- 
coal some minutes before the fire ‘ctually arrived, 
which caused it to vanish with the effect’ of gunpowder. 

The damage done has also now been correctly esti- 
mated. The principal sufferer has been the Prince 
Malletta, proprietor of the wood which: the fire e1ttered, 
burning up everything in its path, and effectually seal- 
ing the earth with a species of stone harder than the 
hardest eranite, so that it will be ages before the. ground 
can again be serviceable for cultivation ; independent of 
the loss in timber, which was consumed standing. The 
vineyards below the woody region had their share, and 
this'is the most valuable ground of any. Loss of life 
there has been none, nor of houses; the whole lias 
been calculated at about £6000 sterling, and I have 
reason’ to think: that this estimate exceeds the trtie 
damage. Higher than Bronte there is neither city nor 
village, co-that no habitations could have been niolested. 
Lord Nelson’s estate, which was said to have been in- 
jured, never was touched, as it hes below Bronte. 

In-fine, this eruption of Aitna has been one of the 
most unexpected, most violent for the time of its dura- 
tion, and most harmless for the extent of miscliief, of 
any ever recorded Most of these phenomena are pre- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


803 


ceded by those terrible electric shocks, sometimes caus 
Ing more injury than the ebullition which follows. Here, 


no Warning was given of its forthcoming, nor, when 


» a 
once begun with such fury, could so speedy a termina- 


tion have been looked to. People in general, 20 pro- 
prietors of ground. on Aétna, look on an event of this 
sort with great satisfaction, as they reasonably suppose 
they have been saved the terrors of an earthquake. 


CITY OF CARLISLE. 

F'rw of our English towns are more pleasantly situated 
than the capital of Cunrberland—“ bonny Cartisle,”’ as it 
used to be fondly styled im border song. The triangular, 
or rather lozenge-shaped eminence on which it stands, 
swells gently up from the bauks of the three rivers by 
which itis formed ; the Eden which flows along its north- 
ern side on its passage to the Solway Frith, and the 
Caldew or Caude, and the Peteril, which encompass it on 

the west, south, and east. The Caldew falls into the 
Eden at the north-west end of the town, where the castle 
occupies the angle formed by the junction of the two 

streams. astward from this ancient fortress stands the. 
cathedral, also a building of venerable antiquity. Both, 
besides being distinguished by their majestic dimensions, 

occupy the highest ground within the city, from the 

midst of which, accordingly, they are seen standing out 

to the sky at the distance of many miles. To make the 

effect still more imposing, the mound on which the city 
has been placed is in the centre of an extensive plain, 

unbroken by any other elevation, till we come to the 

mountainous ridges by which it is bounded, both on the 

north and south. ‘The country immediately around is 

highly cultivated, and presents an aspect eminently rich 

and beautiful. Carlisle still retains its ancient walls, 

which, stretching out from both extremities of the castle, 

sweep in a curved line along the inner banks of the Eden 

and the Caldew, till they meet again at the opposite 

point, where formerly stood two ancient round towers 

called the Citadel. These forts have now been converted 
into halls and other apartments for the assize and county 

courts, after a desion of Mr. Smirke’s. The new build- 

ing forms a great ornament to this end of the eity, which 

is that at which Carlisle is entered from the London road, 

by what is called English Gate.’ : From this gate, Eng- 

lish-street runs in nearly a due north direction to the 

Cross, beyond which the continuation of the line’ re- 

ceives the name of Scotch-street. At the termination of 
this latter stands Scotch Gate ; and there is also a third 

gate, called Irish Gate, in the part of the wall looking to 

the west. Beyond Scotch, Gate, the road, after passing 

through the suburbs, used to. cross the Eden twice, tlie 

river here dividing itself into two branches ; but of these, 

the one nearest to the town has now been carried back 

into the main stream, over which a magnificent bridge 

of five arches has been thrown, and the road contmued 

into the town over the intervening hollow by a raised 

causeway, part of which also consists of a series of 
arches. The whole is built of white Scotch freestone, . 
after a desien of Mr: Smirke's. 

The city of Carlisle is rich in historic associations ; and . 
its castle especially, though now left without a garrison, 
was long ohe Of tlie most famous military strongholds of 
these realms. Both it end the Cathedral are built of a 
reddish freestone, which It must be acknowledged is but 
little favourable to architectural beauty. The latter edi- 
fice, in its oldest parts, appears to be of the Saxon tines, 
and it was once of great extent; but during the Coim- 
monwealth the e@reater part of the western or longest 
limb of the cross which it formed was pulled down, aid 
has not since been rebuilt. What remains of the nave 
is now used as one of the parish churches, while the 
cathedral service is performed in the choir. The Castle 
is supposed to have been begun in the reign of Williain 
Rufus, and, therefore, dates from the latter part of the 


304 


eleventh century. In those days, however, Carlisle was 
occasionally in the hands of the Scots as well as of the 
English; and much of the castle is said to have been 
erected by David I. of Scotland, who took the town in 
1135. It was not finally annexed to England till the 
year 1237, in the reign of Henry III. 

Since that date Carlisle has undergone many sieges. 
The last was that which it sustained in the rebellion of 
1745, when it was taken by the Pretender, who was 
here formally proclaimed as king in the presence of all 
the municipal authorities in their robes. The garrison, 
however, which he left in the place was very soon after 
compelled to surrender to the Duke of Cumberland. 

A century before this the town and castle sustained 
one of the most memorable sieges recorded in our history. 
On the breaking out. of the civil war, the place had 
been taken possession of by the royal forces; and it 
was held by Sir Thomas Glenham, Commander-in-chief 
for the king in the north, when, in October, 1644, it was 
attacked by a division of the parliamentary army under 
the command of General Lesley. ‘The besiegers were 
above 4000 in number, while the garrison with the 
armed citizens did not exceed 700. An interesting nar- 
rative of this siege has been preserved among the FHar- 
leian Manuscripts in the British Museum, written by a 
person of the name of Isaac Tullie, who was in the town 
all the time; and from the summary of Tullie’s account, 
as given by Mr. Lysons in his Magna Britannia, vol. iv., 
we extract the following particulars :— . 

“At Christmas, all the ‘corn was taken from the 
citizens, and a ration distributed weekly to each family, 


according to their numbers. ° The cattle were seized also. 


and distributed in like manner, no more being given to 
the owner thau to any other, except the head, heart, and 
liver. * * * April 3.—They had ‘only thatch for the 
horses, all other provisions being exhausted.’ . May 10:— 
A fat horse taken from the enemy sold for 10s. a quarter. 
May 23.—Provisions almost spent. . 


2 





———_ 


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fae SEAR gah OT 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘May 30.—News | trated in Scott’s ‘* Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.” 


a 


f) 


== == IG] i hone 
eres 


, ae “ 
Air AS at SS 
Se a a Ae 
Fae Sk TAS Bas eR ' 


City 


[Aveusr 3, 


that the king was come into Westmoreland. ‘The gar- 
rison that day ate three days’ provisions, and repented 
with a cup of cold water for three days after. * * * 
June 5.—Hempseed, dogs, and rats were eaten.. The 
citizens so shrunk that they could not choose but laugh 
one at another to see their clothes hang on them as upon 
men on gibbets, for one might put one’s head and fists 
between the doublets and shirts of many of them. 
June 17.—Some officers and soldiers came to the com- 
mon bakehouse, and took away all the horse-flesh from 
the poor people, who were as near starving as themselves. 
June 22.—The garrison had only half a pound of horse- 
flesh each for four days. June 23,—The townsmen pe- 
titioned Sir Thomas Glenham that the horse-flesh might 
not be taken away, and said they were not able to endure 
the famine any longer; several women met at the cross, 
abusing Sir Henry Stradling, the governor, who threat 
ening to fire on them, they begged it as a mercy, when 
he went away with tears in his eyes, but said he* could 
not mend their commons. The surrender was on the 
20th. <A curious feint was practised, to impress the 
besiegers with the idea that the reports of the distress of 
the garrison were untrue, a few days before the surrender. 
An officer sent in by General Lesley; two days following, 
was sent back in a state of intoxication, from the con-: 
tents of the only barrel of ale which had been in the 
garrison for several months, and whieh had been brewed 
and ‘preserved for some such purpose, by Dr.-Baiwell,’ 
the chancellor, with the privity of the governor.” - 

' One of the most sineular instances on record of a 
great military fortress being broken into by ‘surprise, is 
that of the famous border exploit of the deliverance of 


the Scottish freebooter, William’ Armstrong, of Kinnin- 


month, commonly called Kinmont Willie, from the 


donjon. keep of Carlisle Castle.‘ The historical facts of 
this achievement, which was effected on the 13th of 
April, 1596, will be found copiously detailed and ‘illus- 





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*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. ~ 


LONDON :—CHARLES 


KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST, 
Printed by WinLiam CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, ; 





THE PENNY MAGAZIN] 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. LAvcusr 10, 1833, 





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_ [The Maccaroni Seller of Naples.] - 


Maccanrony!, or maccheroni,—the ks are divided as 
to the orthography and etymology of the word,—is the 
principal food of the poorer, and the favourite dish of all 
classes of Neapolitans. So much is this the case that 
the people of Naples have had for many ages the nick- 
name of “ Mangia-maccaroni,” or maccaroni-eaters, | : 

A fine English lady at Paris once asked a gentleman 
of her own country who had recently arrived from Italy, 
‘On what sort of a tree maccaroni grew?” But, in all 


probability, most of our readers who have seen the sub- 
Vou. If. 


stance do not ert of Her’ ignorance but kfoy that it 
is made with wheaten flour. — 

.. “ Grano duro,” or “ Grano del Mar Nero,”: the small. 
hard-grained wheat grown in the Russian. territories on 
the Black Sea and shipped at Odessa and Taganrok, is 
considered the best for the’ purpose, “and ‘was once im- 
-ported into Naples for the maccaroni manufacturers. As 
that kingdom is essentially agricultural itself, the im- 
portation of this foreign corn was felt as an evil; but 
as the manufacturers “always declared they could not 

2 


505 THE PENNY 
produce good macearoni without it, and as a dete- 


rioration in the quality of the aational dish would be 


felt as a serious national calamity, the import trade con- J 
| some other parts of the peninsula ; but the Genoese mix 


tinued to be allowed, though the Neapolitan agriculturist 


frequently could not find-a market for his home-grown | 
A wiser’ step, however, than prohibition, was to | 


corn. 

procure and cultivate the particular hard grain in their 
own territories, and this has now been done for many 
years in Apulia, where the soil and climate are consi- 
dered as most favourable. ‘This grano duro is chiefly 
shipped at Manfredonia, Barletta, Bari, and other ports 
on the Adriatic, and is sold in the Neapolitan market 
under the name of the port it comes from. 

The best maccaroni is made entirely of the g¢rano 
duro; but, in the inferior qualities, this is sometimes 

mixed with soft wheat. The conversion of the flour— 
which is somewhat more coarsely ground than that 
intended for bread—into the long, round strings called 
maccaroni, is effected by a very simple process, With 
the addition of water alone, the flour is worked up into 
paste, and this paste is kneaded for a length of time, by 
a heavy, loaded block of wood, which beats into the 
trough where the paste is deposited; this block or 
piston is attached to a beam acting as a lever, whose 
fulcrum is near to the block, whilst the other extremity 
of the beam is some eight or ten feet from the fulcrum. 
One or more men or boys seat themselves astride at the 
farther end of this beam, and, descending with their 
own weicht and springing up by putting their feet to the 
ground, give the requisite reciprocating motion to the 
lever. Tuey, in fact, play at: see-saw with the block at 
the shorter end of the lever; and the effect produced on 
the eye of a stranger by a large manufactory where 
several of these machines and a number of sturdy fellows, 
nearly naked and all bobbing up and down, are at 
work, has something exceedingly ludicrous in it. When 
the paste has been sufficiently kneaded, it is forced, by 
simple pressure, through a nuniber of circular holes, the 
sizes of which determine the name to be given to the 
substance. That of superior diameter 1s maccaroni, that 
smaller is vermicelli, and that smaller still is called 
fedelini. The maccaroni is hollow throughout, and many 
persons have been puzzled to know how it is formed into 
these long tubes. Nothing is more simple. Over each 
of the larger holes meant for maccaroni a small copper 
bridge is erected, which is sufficiently elevated, to permit 
the paste to pass under it into the hole: from this bridge 
depends a copper wire which goes right through the 
hole, and of course leaves hollow the paste that descends 
through the hole. Such of our readers as have seen our 
common Cclay-pipes for smoking manufactured, will 
readily understand this, for this part. of the process is thie 
same for maccaroni as for pipes. ‘There are some minor 
distinctions in the preparation of these respective articles 
which it would be tedious to explain, but the material 
aud inain process are the same in all. When the ‘paste 
has been forced through the holes, like wire through a 
wire-drawer’s plate, a workman. takes up the maccaroni 
or vermicelli and hangs it across a line to dry. From 
the long kneading it has received, the substance is very 
consistent, and dries in unbroken strings that are two or 
three yards in length. 

Besides maccaroni, vermicelli and fedelini, which are 
in most general use, the Neapolitans make from paste 
similarly prepared an almost infinite variety of other 
culinary articles, some of which are long, narrow, and 
flat, like ribbons,—some broad and thin, like sheets of 
paper,—some round, like balls,—some in the shape of 
beans, or smaller, like peas, &c. &c. ‘To each of these 
the copious Neapolitan dialect has affixed a distinctive 
name. ‘The vocabulary is thus immense! After those 
we have mentioned, however, the greatest favourites are, 
-Lassagna, Gnocchi, and Strangola-prevete*, (the last 


* Prevete, (Neapolitan for the Italian word Prete,) Priest, | 


Jan odd designation, 


MAGAZINE, {Avausr 10, 
signifying “strangle, or choke 
priest !’’) 

Manufactories of a like nature exist at Genoa, and in 


saffron with their paste, which gives it a yellow colour ; 
and the Neapolitans, proud of the only manufacture in 
which they excel, treat with great contempt the similar 
productions of all the rest of Italy. It must be allowed, 

indeed, even by the _unprejudiced, that their maccaroni 
is by far the best. It is made, of course, throughout the 
whole of this maccaroni-eating kingdom; but the best 
is manufactured on thie coast of the Bay of Naples, 
about La Torre del Greco and La Torre dell’ Annunziata, 

two towns through which the traveller must pass on his 
way to the ruins ji: Pompeii, Pestum, &e., and where 
he is sure to see the maccaroni works in full activity. 

The productions of these works go by the general name 
of ‘* Pasta della costa.” They. command higher prices 
than any maccaroli; vermicelli, &c. _ fhade elsewliere, 
and are exported in very considerable quantities. Ex- 
traordinary importance is. attached to these articles in 
some remote places in the interior of the kingdom, where 
communication with the capital is difficult. 

In respectable Neapolitan houses maccaroni is on the 
dinner-table at least twice or thrice a week,—in many, 
every day. It is served up first; and on maccaroui 
days, generally speaking, no soup appears, The writer 
would rack his memory and Ingenuity in vain in at- 
tempting to describe thie jhumerous Ways in witch it is 
cooked. Bat these are two of the most coninon pre- 
paratious, , The maccaroni is thrown into @ caldron 
containing boilitie water, care being taken to bend aud 
not to break the “strings iiore , than necessary (for half 
the beauty of this pasta consists in the length of its 
fibre), and it is there left to boil until, from ' white, it aS- 
suines a greenish tinge; which; if properly 1 managed, it 
does in about a quarter of an hour. 

Verdi-verdi! green! green! is the expression of the 
Neapolitan’s delight, Whien his maccaroni has been pre- 
perly boiled to, the very sec ond, It is then taken out of 
the caldron—drained “of all the water, then saturated 
with some concentrated ,meat-gravy, sprinkled through- 
out with finely-eraled cheese, and served 1 up in a laree 
tureen, in firm, unbroken strings, which are easily de- 
tached froui each other. 

In. the second preparation the iaccaroni, after being 
boiled in the same, manner, (for the Neipolitaiis eher- 
getically maintain that there is only ¢ one proper. way of 
boiling it,) and. then strained) i is therely auidinted with a 
little butter which is thrown i in; in solid pieces, and dis- 
solved by the heat contained i in the paste—to this grated 
cheese is added, as in the other process; ahd a further 

Ey 
addition of tomata, or love-apple sauce, makes the dish 
excellent. 

The reader may be assured, that. cooked 7 in either of 
these ways—to say nothing” of the other more recondite 
preparations of the Italian cook—imacearoni is incom- 
parably superior to that pappy; greasy, indigestible sub- 
stance—-a positive disgrace to the name it bears—which 
is sometimes intruded « on our Ene lish tables. | Prepar ed 
in the Neapolitan maniier, maccaroni is nutritious, satis- 
fying, light, and easy of digestion. 

It has been already said that this paste forms the 
principal food of the poorer classes of Neapolitans. 
They would be too happy, however, if they could get it 
every day! In the course of the week they are ofien 
oblized to satisfy themselves with bread generally made 
of Indian corn, with a few onions or heads of garlic, and 
a little minestra verde, (or greens boiled in plain water, 
with a small lump of lardo or hog’s fat thrown in to 
eive a flavour). Many thousands of them do not eat 
meat for weeks, nay months together, but they care not 
for this if they can have their maccaroni, which is a sub- 
stitute for every eatable. 


1833. ] 


Venders of this national commodity are established in 
every corner of the city of Naples. Some have shops 
or cellars where they prepare and retail it, but a much 
greater number cook it on moveable furnaces in the 
open air, and sell it to their hungry customers in the 
streets, who eat it from the dealer's bench without plates, 
knives, forks, spoons, or any such luxuries. In former 
times these maccaroni stalls dared to stand under palaces, 
and lined even the Strada Toledo, and other of the 
principal streets, mixed up, in grotesque confusion, with 
the stalls of other retailers and of artisans. The concise 
I*orsyth, who was there at the beginning of the present 
century, says, “ A diversity of trades dispute with you 
the streets 5; you are stopped by a carpenter’s bench, you 
are lost among shoemaker tools, you dash among 
the pots of a maccaroni stall, and you escape behind 
a lazarone's night basket.” Such is:still the fate of the 
imexperienced perambulator in some of the lower parts 
of the town ; but of late years the characters and things 
enumerated have gradually been obliged to retire from 
the main streets and confine themselves to lanes and 
alleys, and the outskirts of the town ;—in which last 
places, particularly on a gzorno di festa or holiday, the 
maccaroni venders are to be found in compact groups, 
aud (not satisfied with the temptation offered by their 
steaming caldrons and well-known stalls) waving sam- 
ples of their fare, at the end of long ladles, in the air, 
and inviting, at the top of their Stentorian voices, all 
passers by to stop and partake. 

The cut ‘at the head of this notice will give a very 
good idea of one of these stalls, as well as of the primi- 
tive manner in which the poor Neapolitans eat’ their 
favourite food. ” They pride themselves in their dexterity 
in taking up in the naked hand 2 bundle of these long 
strings, and sliding them down their throats without 

TT? | a ae OVE Te er. ' ¢ 
breaking them. The macearont thus sold in the streets 
and by the way-sides, is merely boiled in plain water, 
and more frequently eaten without any condiment what- 
ever—sometimes, however, it is sprinkled with some 
grated caccia cavallo, (a coarse white cheese made of 
biffalo’s milk,) for which’ additional luxury a- propor- 
tionate charge is made. The mere mention of “ quattro 
maccheroni con o zughillo,” or ‘some maccaroni with 
meat gravy,” will make your lazarone’s mouth water, as 
that is a luxury which rarely comes within his means*. 

For five grani (about two-pence English) a man may 
thus very well stay the cravings of hunger,—for ten 
grant he may have a complete feast, with scraped buf- 
falo cheese included. With three grani more he can 
indulge in a carafa or bottle of common wine, or in 
summer-time, if he prefers it, for the same sum he can 
procure a large glass ef deliciously iced-water, and half 
of a huge melon. 

It is worthy of remark that your genuine lazarone 
despises to use a wine-glass or even to touch the bottle 
with his lips—he drinks like the New Zealander, (see Cut 
in No. 27 of our Magazine,) and frequently holding the 
bottle almost at arm’s, length, pours a continuous stream 
from its neck into his mouth. ‘This also is‘a feat in 
which they take pride, and he is deemed a good per- 
former who can make the wine describe a beautiful curve 
between the bottle and his lips, and by a sudden jerk of 
the hand stop its further outpouring without spilling any 
of the liquor. 

On some future occasion we may return to the sub- 
ject of this very curious class of men, who are certainly 


* It would be difficult to say why, but the Neapolitans, in speak- 
ing of a certain portion, or as we should say “ a little maccaroni,”’ 
always use the numeral word four, as the Scotch say “a few broth.’ 
For other eatables they apply the number fwo,—thus, “ ho mangiato 
due quaghe.” JY have eaten two quails—in which sense the words 
must not be taken literally, for your interlocutor may have eaten a 
dozen quails—the phrase only means that he has eaten of the birds 
(or whatever else they may be) mentioned, and is not at all specific 
of number or quantity. , 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


SOT 


different from, and, all their qualities considered, better 
than, the pictures which hasty or prejudiced observers 
have drawn of them—but for the present we must take 
our leave of the maccaroni-eaters. 


ARABIC PROVERBS ann PROVERBIAL EXPRESSIONS. 


1. Sometimes the tongue cuts off the head. 
2. If your friend be honey, do not eat him altogether, 
3. The provisions suffer when the cat and the mouse live 
on good terms. 
4. Shave your own chin when the beard of your son is 
srown. 
5. When you pass through the country of the one-eyed, 
make yourself one-eyed. 
6. If you are so unhappy as to have a foolish friend, he 
yourself wise. 
7. When there are many captains, theship sinks. 
ee If you cannot master the whole, yet do not forsake the 
whole. 
When things tire you at the head, take them by the 
tail. | 
10. When you have spoken the word, it reigns over you; 
but while it is not yet spoken, you reign over it. 
11. When you are an anvil, have patience; when you are 
a hammer, beat straight. : 
12. When the counsellor 
polished. | 
13. Time will teach him that has no teacher. 
14. He that passes through the onions, or their peel, 
smell of them. 
15. He who cannot understand at a glance will not under- 
stand by much explanation. ; 
. He who makes himself bran, the fowls will-scrape 


grows rusty, the counsel will be 


ay 


. Sucking becomes bitterness by weaning. : 
. He that sleeps without supper, gets up without debt. 
. Lhough the will be idle, yet be not you idle. * °* 
. He builds a minaret, and destroys a city. 
- He has sold the vineyard and bought a wine-press. ” 
22. The fig-tree looking on the fig-tree will be made 
fruitful. ' 

23. Three things evince the character of 
books, presents, messengers. 

24. Borrowed dresses give no warmth. 

25. He is warm towards his friend only to burn him. - 

26. Every man leaps over a low wald. oes 
‘ 27. The mother of the dumb knows the language of the 

umb. “ =_” 

28. The mother of the murdered sleeps, but the mother of 
the murderer does not sleep. 

29. Need developes the mind. 

30. The best friends are those who stimulate each other 
to good. | 
. The best companions, when you sit, are good books. | 
. The best visits are the shortest. 
. Take the thief before he takes yon. 
. [he carpenters have sinned, and the tailors ave hung. 
. To be weaned is a difficult task for an adult. 
. Ride not on the saddle of thy neighbour. 
. Silence 1s often an answer. 
. L like the head of a dog better than the tail of a Hon. 
. Shpping may happen even in July. 
. He plucks out the tooth of the dog, and barks himself. 

41. He was absent two years, and came back—with two 
yellow boots. 

42, The drunkenness of youth is stronger than the drun- 
kenness of wine. ) 
- 43. Sciences are locks, and inquiry the key to them. 

44, Take counsel of him who is greater, and of him who 
is less, than yourself, and then recur to your own judgment. 

45. The worst kind of men are those who do not care 
when men see them doing wrong. 

46. Close the window through which an il-wind enters 
fo you. 

47. The owner of the house knows best what is in it. 

48. The mules went to ask horns, and returned without 
ears. 

49, In adversity the real principles of men appear. 

50. Honour yourself, and you will be honoured; despise 
yourself, and you will be despised. 

51. An hour's patience will procure a long period of rest. 


the mind,— 





Ee oy 


2.2 


308 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aucusr® 10 


GREENWICH OBSERVATORY. 





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[View of the Observatory at Greenwich. ] 


AN observatory 1s a building furnished with instruments 
for observing the places and movements of the heavenly 
bodies ; and the perfection to which the science of as- 
tronomy has been carried in modern times is in great 
part to be attributed to the existence of such establish- 
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but there is no certain evidence that such institutions, in 
the modern sense, existed either among that people or 
any other of those early times. There is little reason to 
believe that the fathers of astronomy, either in Chaldea 
or (In Greece, were assisted in laying the foundations of 
their science by even the simplest instruments, 

: In modern times, one of the earliest observatories, and 
one of the most famous, was that founded by the cele- 
brated Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahé, on the small 
island of Huen, in the Sound, which was made over to 
him for his residence by the Danish king, Frederic II. 
The first stone of this building, which was intended to 
serve for a dwelling-house to the astronomer as well. as 
for a watch-tower from which to contemplate the stars, 
was laid on the 8th of August, 1576. It was, in all, 
sixty feet square and seventy feet in height. Tycho gave 
it the name of Uranienbore, that is, the Palace of 
Urania, the goddess of astronomy; and here he spent 


seventeen years of his life in the unremitting cultivation 
of his fayourite science. 


“« We have spent a year,” says, 


Malte Brun, in the ‘* Biographie Universelle,’ 1812, 
“in traversing that classic soil, and have there retraced 
the boundary of Uranienborg, which is still marked out 
by elevations formed by the brick rubbish: the flocks 
now gambol over the remains of the palace of Urania. 
Farther off, in a field of corn, is found a cavern which 
is said to have appertained to the mansion. It was of 
this that Picard, having been sent by the Academy of 
Sciences of Paris, availed himself in determining the 
longitude and latitude of Uranienborg. ‘The garden, 
contiguous to a farm-house, built below the site of the 
house, still preserves some slight traces of its ancient 
splendour. A meadow is sliown, occupyig a hollow 
which, in the time of Tycho, was filled with a lake; 
—the little creek may still be detected in which his 
pleasure-boats used to lie at anchor. This lake re- 
celved the rain-water, collected in ten or twelve re- 
servoirs built here and there in the island; and from 
it issued a rivulet, still partly in existence, but formed by 
the hydraulic skill of Tycho, into a current strong enough 
to turn a mill, of so. ingenious a construction that it 
served at one time to grind corn, at another to make 
paper, and at another to dress leather. Various remains 
of dykes and other buildings still attest with what facility 
the great astronomer descended to all sorts of economical 
details.” 

Among existing institutions of this description, our own 
observatory at Greenwich, of which a representation is 
prefixed to this notice, has long held an eminent place. 


4 


1833.] 


It stands on the most elevated spot in Greenwich Park, 
and consists of two buildings,—one a low oblong edifice, 
which is properly the Observatory, and the other a house 
for the Astronomer Royal. The upper part of the latter, 
however, besides serving as 2 library-room, is also filled 
with instruments; and there is a camera-obscura on the 
top of the house. The library contains many scarce and 
valnable works, principally on scientific subjects. The 
Observatory is divided into four apartments, fitted up 
with transit circles, quadrants, clocks, sectors, and other 
astronomical instruments, among’ which are some of the 
finest productions of Troughton, Graham, Hardy, Earn- 
shaw, Dollond, and Herschel. Among them is a transit 
instrument, that is, an instrument for observing the pas- 
sage of the differeiit heavenly bodies over the meridian, 
of eight feet in length, which is famous as having been 
that used by Halley, Bradley, and Maskelyne. - Bradley’s 
zenith sector is also in one of the rooms, with which he 
made the observations at Kew, from which he deduced 
his discoveries of the aberration of light and the mutation 
of the earth’s axis. ‘Two small buildings, with he- 
mispherical sliding domes, stand to the north of the 
Observatory, which are fitted up chiefly for the observa- 
tion cf comets. Most of the old observatories were pro- 
vided with a deep well, from, the bottom of which the 
stars inight be observed in the day-time; and that of 
Greenwich had also formerly an excavation of this kind, 
descending to the depth of a-hundred feet, in the south- 
sist corner of the warden. It is now, however, arched 
over. | : 

Greenwich Observatory stands on the site of an old 
fortified tower belonging to the crown, and said to have 
been first erected in the early part of the fifteenth cen- 
tury, by Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, the brother of 


Henry V., one of the earhest patrons of learuing in | 


this country. It was either repaired or rebuilt by 
Henry VII. in 1526; and continued long afterwards to 
be considered a place of some strength. Pau] Hentzner, 
the German traveller, says that, in the time of Elizabeth, 
it was known by the name of “ Mirefleur,” and was sup- 
posed to be the same which is mentioned in the romance 
of “ Amadis de Gaul.” 

The idea of erecting an observatory here is said to 
have originated in the circumstance of a Frenchman of 
the name of St. Pierre making application, in 1675, to 
Charles II. for a reward on acconnt of a method which 
he professed to have discovered of finding the longitude. 
As it depended upon the ascertainment of the distance 
of the moon from one of the fixed stars, John Flainsteed, 
who, although as yet but a young man, had already 
distinguished himself as an astronomical observer, was 
applied to as the person best able to furnish accurate 
data on which to found the necessary calculations. He 
accordingly supplied what was desired; but remarked, 
at the saine time, that with the imperfect means which 
then existed in this country for the examination of the 
heavens, no such dependence could be placed upon any 
observations which might be made as to render them of 
any use in so nice a matter as the calculation of the 
lon@itude. When this remark was represented to the 
king, Charles II., he immediately declared that England 
should no longer remain without a public establishment 
for the advancement of astronomical investig‘ations. 
The resolution being thus taken to build an observatory, 
various spots were thonght of for its site in the neig‘h- 
bourhood of the metropolis, and, among others, Hyde 
Park and Chelsea Hospital; but at last, on the recom- 
mendation of Sir Christopher Wren, the site of the Castle 
of Greenwich was preferred. The foundation-stone of 
the building was laid on the 10th of August, 1675. 
Ilamsteed was appointed the first superintendent of the 
establishment, under the title of Astronomer Royal; and 
he commenced his observations in August of the follow- 
ing year. This great astronomer continued to reside at 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


309 


the Observatory till his death, on the 31st of December, 
1719, forty-three years after his appointment. The re- 
sults of his laborious observations and calculations durine 
the whole of this period were given to the world in 17 25, 
in three volumes folio, under the title of “ Historia 
Celestis,’ an immortal monument of his industry and 
genius. Flamsteed was succeeded as Astronomer Royal 
by the great Halley, who occupied the situation twenty- 
three years, having died in 1742 at the age of eighty- 
five. His successor was another most distingished 
astronomer, Bradley, the discoverer of the aberration of 
light, or that difference between the apparent and the 
true place of any of the fixed stars which is occasioned 
by the motion of the earth and the motion of light from 
the star to the observer. After Bradley's death,: which 
took place in 1762, Mr. Bliss held the office for two 
years, when he died, and gave place to the late eminent 
Dr. Maskelyne, who enjoyed it for a period not much 
short of half acentury, having survived till 1810. Hewas 
succeeded by the present Astronomer Royal, Mr. Pond. 
Since 1767, in conformity with an order of his niajesty, the 
observations made by the Astronomer Royal-at Green- 
wich have been annually published under the super- 
intendence of the Royal Society. The admirable 
instruments with which the Observatory ‘is provided, 
together with the ability and high. character of the suc- 
cessive astronomers, have secured to the Greenwich 
observations a reputation for accuracy: scarcely rivalled 
by those of any other similar institutions. 


THE DEAF TRAVELLER.—No. 1. -_ 

[We have much pleasure in placing before our readers the first of 
a series of papers, which we think will be found highly interest- 
ing, not only from their intrinsic merit, but from the peculiar 
circumstances of thewriter. These circumstances he has detailed 
in the following introductory account of himsclf. We have 
only to add, that the writer has been introduced to the notice of 
the Society by a valuable Member of one of its Local Committees, 
who is fully aware of his singular history. ] wy 

I am somewhat of a traveller, and have lived for several 

years under circumstances very different, and in the 

midst of scenes very distant, from those of nry younger 
days. Unless, therefore, I were a person of more than 
ordinary dulness and want cf observing powers, I ought 
to have something to relate of the things I have seen 
and experienced, in which the readers of ‘Phe Penny 

Magazine” would be interested. Yet there are cir- 

cumstances in my condition which would exonerate me 

from censure had [ nothing: at all to say, or iess than I 

really have. But I do not intend to shelter myself 

under this excuse, thou@h I shall presently state what 
are the circumstances to which I refer. 

It is not yet a month since I returned to my native 
country, after an absence of four years from its shores. 

I remember that, on my retnrn in the year 1829 from a 


former absence, the first place at which I stopped after 


having landed was a booksellers shop, thinking that 
I should be able, from the display in its windows, to 
infer the modifications which our popular literature had 
received while I had been abroad. I distinctly recollect 
that the first book on whose open title my eye fell was, 
“A Treatise on the Art of Tying the Cravat,” with a 
portrait of the author. Now, though perhaps this was 
not a circumstance from which any just inference could 
be drawn, it gave an impression to my mind which has 
since remained mixed up with all my recollections of 
that occasion. 

On my date return, I made a similar pause at the first 
book-shop I saw; and there “ The Penny Magazine,” 
and other publications of similar price, attracted my gaze. 
I had not previously seen any of them; and abroad | 
had only gathered from newspapers that cheap period- 
ical works, of an inflammatory and seditious cliaracter, 
were in extensive circulation. I therefore looked on 
them with some degree of prejudice; but, not to be 


310 


unjust, I determined to form my own estimate of their 
merits, and, entering the shop, purchased specimens of 
all the various Jittle publications I saw on the counter 
and in the window. 

It would not in this place be proper to say what I 
thought of their respective claims and pretensions ; but, 
upon the whole, I saw much cause to be delighted with 
the efforts which had been made in my absence to bring 
useful and interesting information within the reach of the 
people. It is true that 1 remersbered similar attempts 
had been made fiom seven to twelve years back; but 
the works which were then put forth, such as ‘“‘ Saturday 
Evening,” “ Sunday Morning,” ‘ The Portfolio,’ ‘The 
Spirit of the Times,’ &c. &c., soon terminated their 
career, for they were much less useful, less interesting, 
and less ably conducted than is now the case with works 
of much inferior price. ‘These publications were, how- 
ever, not without their merits; and their failure may 
donbtless be in part attributed to the fact, that the 
public mind was not at that period so athirst for infor- 
mation as at present. One only of the works started 
about that time still survives. The ‘‘ Mirror” may be 
regarded as the parent of this class of literature: it has 
gone on improving from year to year. 

With the attention I had given to such attempts from 
the commencement, I could not fail to be much in- 
terested in the existing undertakings in the same de- 
partment which were, onthe occasion mentioned, bronght 
under my notice. Some of the papers I had purchased 
at the shop I skimmed over in my way home, cutting 
open the leaves with my fore-finger for want of a knife ; 
and before I reached my lodgings I had felt that I 
should much like to have to do with some of these pub 
lications, particularly “ The Penny Magazine,” in which 
I felt an especial interest. When I rot home, these vague 
wishes were confirmed bya letter from some friends in the 
country which I found waiting for me, and in which my 
attention was called to this very object. Through the 
kindness of one of these, and of some gentlemen con- 
nected with the ‘ Society for the Diffusion of Useful 
Knowledge ” to whom he introduced me, I am happy 
in being now enabled to carry these wishes into effect. 

In my first set of papers I purpose to say something 
about my travels; but as I am very pecniiarly circum- 
stanced, my readers will not so well understand what is 
to follow unless I previously tell them something about 
myself, I shall not be very particular, however; for as 
i think nothing in my travels so interesting as some of 
the earlier circumstances of my life at home, I shall 
probably hereafter call attention to them more in detail. 

I have certainly, in the course of my life, been in very 
remarkable and interesting situations; but I remember 
few more interesting than that in which Iam now placed 
whilst talking to a million of people about myself. But 
of the million I calculate that 950,000 are good and 
kind people, and I feel much encouraged by this con- 
sideration ; though still if I had a friend at hand to do 
this for me, I would much rather leave it to him. 

Circumstances, on which I am unwilling to dwell, left 
my early age exposed to as much poverty and destitu- 
tion as it is probable that any of my readers can have 
known. To this not uncommon class of calamities was, 
in early boyhood, added the deprivation of the sense of 
hearing, and since then I have lived in as total and 
absolute deafness as I suppose can be possibly experi- 
enced. My speech also was so far affected, whether by 
inability or disuse, that, though with a painful effort I 
could speak, I seldom uttered five words in the course 
of a week for several years. I always said the little I 
had to say in writing; and I know not whether it be 
not to this circumstance I owe that habit of composition 
Which now enables me to address the readers of the 
Peuny Magazine. After some years I was induced to 
make a vigorous effort to recover the use of my vocal, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


f[Auausr 10, 


organs; and now, though I am told my voice is unlike 
the voices of other men, I always express myself -ver- 
bally, and am pretty well understood, especially by 
those who are accustomed to my manner of speaking. 
Those, however, who do not know me, often take me 
for a foreigner; and to this mistake, perhaps, my com- 
plexion, browned by the warmer suns of the East, not 
a little conduces: all, of course, carry on their part of 
a conversation with me either by means of thie finger- 
alphabet or in writing. . 

How far this circuinstance of my becoming deaf at so 
early a period of life, by depriving me of many external 
sources of interest and occupation, may have tended to 
direct my attention to the pursuit of knowledge in the 
midst of overwhelming difficulties, is a question which I 
may hereafter consider. Certain it is, that the scamiy 
supply of books I was able to procure afforded me, in 
these circumstances of physical and external deprivation, 
almost the only comfort and satisfaction open to me; 
though I little contemplated the extent to which these 
pursuits would modify my external circumstances, as 
they have done. My readers will now easily perceive 
that the situation which I have been describing must 
have given a very peculiar character to the history of my 
life and of my travels, which will not, I apprehend, dimi- 
nish their interest in the thiugs I have to tell. 

A few years after my deafness commenced, I became 
the inmate of a workhouse, and remained there several 
years, with the exception of a short interval during which 
I was a parish apprentice. ‘This interval I am disposed 
to look back upon as one of the least happy periods of 
my life; for my master used me most unkindly, and I 
had a spirit that was affected more strongly by unkind- 
ness than by external suffering and destitution. An 
excellent friend, however, at last brought my case before 
the magistrates, and by them my indentures were ulti- 
mately cancelled. I returned to the workhouse, and 
really felt my return as a relief and happiness: my 
duties there were not heavy ; and the unpleasant circm- 
stances of such a situation were softened by the kindness 
of those with whcin [ had to do. ‘Their kindness also 
afforded me more personal liberty and consideration than 
the inmates of such establishments usually enjoy. 

At last, while I was yet a lad, my situation came to 
the knowledge of some gentlemen of the place, who 
bestirred themselves with great activity and kindness in 
my behalf. They raised money for me; they removed 
me from the workhouse ; and for a year alter I remained 
drinking my fill of knowledge from the books in the 
public library of the town, to which I had free access. 

It is my present purpose rather to introduce myself 
than to relate the circumstances of my life. So I 
shall now only say, that since the above period I have, 
in various situations and employments, resided one year 
in Icxeter, nearly three in London and its neighbour- 
hood, nearly two in the island of Malta, more than 
three in Bagdad, and have spent nearly two years in 
travelling and voyaging toand from the twe latter places. 
In all these scenes and situations, I have endeavoured 
to keep one object at least steadily in view—the acquire 
ment of such information and general knowledge as I 
found open to me in the midst of much occupation, and 
of difficulties which, though considerably different from 
those of my earlier life, have often been very great. 

[To be continued. ] J. K. 


British Museum.—The great increase of visiters to this 
national establishment is very remarkable ; and particularly 
gratifying to all those who are anxious that the people should 
enjoy those unexpensive pleasures which inform their un- 
derstandings and elevate their tastes. From the 10th June 
to the 10th July, the aggregate number of visiters on the 
three public days of each week was thirty-two thousand; 
and on the 10th July above three thousand seven hundred 
persons were admitted. _ 


1833.] 


THE PLAIN OF MARATHON. 


“As many errors have crept into the descriptions which 
have hitherto been given of this celebrated spot, I will 
endeavour to correct them by the results of a close and 
careful personal inspection of it. The larger and more 
southerly half of the plain, which forms the real Plain of 
Marathon, has two arms stretching forward in a westerly 
direction ; these are divided by the Kotréni. It is inter- 
sected by this river, which does not, however, form any 
natural boundary, as its bed is quite firm, and even in 
winter has not more than two feet depth of water; both foot 
and horse indeed may advance close to its very mouth with- 
out obstruction. At the upper extremity of the southern 
arm lie the village of Vranas and a small monastery, built 
on the steep bank of a mountain-stream, which descends 
from the Pautelhikos, between the Aphorismds and Argaliki, 
and loses itself in the plain, after flowing about three-quar- 
ters ofa mile. A third streamlet springs at the eastern foot 
of the Argahiki, converts an interval of about one thousand 
paces between that mountain and the sea into a swamp, 
forms an islet one hundred and fifty paces in length and 
breadth close to its mouth, and then falls into the sea. This 
marshy track, to the scuth, is called Suacxtevce. The whole 
plain is at this day divided between four or five owners ; 
namely, the Monastery of Asomatos, or Petraki, near Athens; 
that of St. George in Vranis; and two or three private 
individuals. ‘The country people told me that it does not 
afford subsistence to more than three hundred men and 
women, besides children ; but that, in a couple of years and 
with proper cultivation, it would maintain ten times that 
namber. The population is wholly Albanian, for the Greek 
owners reside in Athens. The soil of the plain is of a red- 
dish hue, and rather of a rich quality ; there is no species 
of cultivation to which it is not adapted ; and it is, without 
exception, the finest tract of land in all Attica. There 
cannot be a more deplorable sight tlian its present neglected 
condition ; this is the natural consequence of the wretched 
system which obtains throughout Greece in the letting of 
property. The owner divides the produce of his land with 
his lessee in conformity with a fixed scale; and out of this 
custom has grown the appellation of collegas, or partner, 
which the one applies to the other. ‘The proprietor fur- 
nishes the seed-corn, oxen, sheep, utensils, &c., and his 
lessee or partner defrays the expense of labour. It fre- 
quently happens that the one endeavours to overreach the 
other, or at least that they live in constant apprehension of 
reciprocal duplicity. Hence neither of them expends a 
single para in improving the property; the lessee indeed 
has seldom the means of doing so. The landholder is quite 
satisfied with his tenant if he do hot make him a less retumn 
than the former occupant; and the tenant, on the other 
hand, never grumbles if the Jand but yields himself and 
his family a scauty subsistence. As to manure, change of 
crops, and the like, not a thought of them ever crosses their 
minds. Under this state of things, the lazy Albanian turns 
up the surface of his ground, year after year, scarce a 
couple of inches deep, with a pair of oxen roped toa plough, 
which has been justly designated ‘ ante-diluvian ;’ and as 
the stones and thistles do not get out of his way of their 
own accord, he very carefully gets out of theirs. Amidst 
this wilderness of weeds and thistles, he casts his pittance 
of unclean seed about’ him; harvests corn, weeds, and 
thistles, in one indiscriminate heap together, sets his asses 
to tread it out in the open air, and either consumes or sells 
his stock of corn, weeds, dirt, sand, and stones, without 
taking the slightest pains to dissolve their partnership. 
Such is the actual process of husbandry in Greece. The 
ancients extol Marathon as being rich in wine and oil, 
and perchance there may have been a sprinkling of vine- 
yards in the northern part of the plain previously to the 
recent war; but there was not an olive-tree in existence, 
though it would be attended with great advantage if the 
whole plain were planted with these trees, for their shade 
would. keep up a greater degree of moisture in summer 
throughout the entire plain. Instead of this, the country 
eople resort to Athens for all the oil which they consume. 
Vith the exception of a few fig-trees in the neighbourhood of 
Marathon, and one here and there on the banks of the stream, 
the plain is destitute of sbrub or tree. Nay, as if to prevent 
the graduai increase of foliage, even on the surrounding 
mountains, so far as they are accessible to sheep or goats, 


the owners of the ground, besides maintaining numerous | 
flocks of their own, take money from tle nomadic Wal-| 
lach ans in winter for permission to drive ‘their herds into | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3lt 


the plain. We met with two encampments of these Wal- 
lachians, each consisting of between fifty and twenty huts, on 
the declivities of the Kotréni and StavrokorAki. The mound, 
which the natives call 6 ewes, and where the 192 heroes were 
interred, rises like a flattened globe, about thirty feet above 
the surface of the plain; the very first sight, of it bespeaks 
it the work of human hands. It is formed of the same yed- 
coloured earth as the soil around it, and when once dry and 
hard, might readily bid defiance to the autumnal rains for a 
couple of thousand years in so dry a climate asthis. It 
was opened by Fauriel and others on the west side, but 
they have not penetrated farther than the centre: judging 
from its remaining proportions, it appears to have lost little, 
if anything, of its original height. Neither did they proceed 
to a sufficient depth to disturb the manes of the heroes in 
the‘'r long slumber. I could discover no vestige of the 
mounds in which the Platewans and slaves were buried. 
Some hundred paces north-west of the Sords, lie two or three 
masses of marble fragments; one of them contains a small 
altar, two feet lugh, of more recent workmanship; and a 
second, a quadrangular pediment of marble blocks, which 
passes among the natives by the name of the Tower, and is 
looked upon as having been part of the monument erected 
to Miltiades, though it may quite as well have been the 
reoramy Aidov Aevxov Of Pausanias. To the south of Sorés, 
and in the direction of Argaliki, five or six similar masses 
of ruins again occur, amongst which I observed a quad- 
rangular pediment of somewhat considerable size, in com- 
pany with some ambiguous fragments of columns, and 
several remains of architectural ornaments of the Ionic 
order. Was this perchance the site of an Heroon to the 
fallen warriors? Leake calls the spot Valari; and, reason 
ing from the similarity of accent, conjectures that these 
ruins belong to Probilinthos ; but this inference falls to the 
ground if regard be had to the prevalent accentuation of the 
word, which numbers of persons in the vicinity of the spot 
pronounced Valari, or Valaria. * * * For these reasons, as 
well as in accordance with the series of names of places laid 
down by Strabo, I should be justified in placing Probalin- 
thos to the south of the small morass at the foot of the 
mountains. The last remains of angient times, which I 
have to notice, lie on the little island to the south-east of 
Sords; they consist of pediments formed of enormous blocks 
of marble, of some raised spots like tumuli, and of seven or 
eight small columns of green-veined marble, which we may 
therefore conclude to be of foreign origin and more recent 
date. mam ¢ 

“ There are but four passes leading out of the Plain ef 
Marathon. One to the south, winding round the Pen- 
telikés;-a second to the north, trayersing Trikorytlhos to- 
wards Rhamnus; a third to the north-west, bending up the 
valley to Kaxomdriti and Oropés; and the fourth to the 
west, leading from Vranas across the Aphorismos to Athens. 
I admit there is a fifth egress, from Oinde up the northern 
declivity of the Aphorismés, but this pass comes in contact 
with the direct road to Athens, to the east of Stamata. All 
these lines are perfect mountain-passes, in which but few 
persons can walk abreast; there is no riding through them 
but on the backs of mules or ponies; and even if cavalry 
could make their way through them, it could not be done 
without infinite care and much danger; after all, too, they 
would be completely useless in these defiles. There are 
none so steep and toilsome as the two roads across the 
Aphorismés, which, after their junction, constitute the 
nearest and straightest route to Athens. 

I found an obscure tradition of the Persian contest on this 
spot prevalent among the inhabitants of the plain. In 
former days, said they, during the times of the Hellenes, 
a swarm of Fustanelle appeared in this plain. The 
Athenians, who had pitched their tents in the upper part of 
it, proceeded. to attack them, and slew such a multitude of 
them, that the river was dyed crimson with their blood. 
But it may be doubted whether.this legend be an eld tra- 
dition, or, as holds good of sumilar tales in other parts of 
Greece, whether it be not of modern invention. At all 
events, it would be very unsafe ground for any inquirer to 
tuke in investigating the local circumstances of the battle.” 
—*;om the Journal of Education, No. XL, 


EGYPTIAN EGG OVEN. | 
[ From “ Habits of Birds.” } 
Ir is indispensable to hatching, that an equable tempe- 
rature be kept up of about 96° Fahr. or 32° Réaum., 
for at lower temperatures the living principle appears to 


$12 


become torpid aiid wiable to assimilaté the nourishment 
provided for developing the embryo. 
this principle, the Egyptians, as well as those who have 
tried the experiment in Europe, have succeeded by means 
of artificial heat in hatching eges without any aid from 
the mother birds. , 

Modern travellers, who mention the art as practised 
in Eeypt, are very deficient in their details;. but we 
ought to wonder the less at this when Father Sicard 
informs us that it is kept a secret even in Egypt, and ts 
only known to the inhabitants of the village of Berme, 
and a few adjoining places in the Delta, who leave it as 
an heir-loom to their children, forbidding them to impart 
it to strangers. When the beinning of autumn, the 
season most favourable for hatching, approaches, the 
people of this village disperse themselves over the coun- 
try, each taking the management of a number of cges 
intrusted to his care by those acquainted with the art. 

According to the best descriptions of the Egyptian 
mamal, or hatching- -oven, it is a brick structure about 
nine feet high. ‘The middle is formed into a oallery 
about three feet wide and eight feet high, extending from 
one end of the building to the other. ‘This oallery forms 
the entrance to the oven, ond commands its whole extent, 
facilitating the various operations indispensable for keep- 
ing the eggs at the proper degree of warmth. On eacli 
side of this ¢ oallery there isa double row of rooms, every 
room on the oround-floor laving oue over it of precisely 
the same dimensions, namely, three feet in height, four 
or five in breadth, and twelve or fifteen in length. These 
have a round hole for an entrance of about a foot and a 
halfin diameter, wide enough for a man to creep throngh ; 
and into each are put four or five thousand eggs. ‘The 
number of rooms in one mamal varies from three to 
twelve; and the building is adapted, of course, for 


hatching from forty to eighty thousand eges, which are 
not laid on the bare brick floor of the oven, but upon a 
mat, or bed of flax, or Lidies non-conducting mele 


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Ground- -plan of an Egyptian Egg-oven. 

In each of the upper rooms is a fire-place for warming 
the lower room, the heat being communicated through a 
large hole in the centre. The fire-place is a sort. of 
eutter, two inches deep and six wide, on the edge of the 
floor, sometimes all round, but for the most part only on 
two of its sides... As wood or charcoal .would make too 
quick a fire, they burn the dung of cows or camels, mixed 
with straw, formed into ‘cakes and dried. The doors 
wliich open into the gallery serve for chimneys to let out 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Proceeding upon’ 


[Auaust 10, 1833. 


the smoke, which finally escapes through opening’s in the 
arch of the rallery itself. Lhe fire in ‘the gutters is only 
kept up, according to some, for an hour in the morning 
and an hour at nicht, which they call the dinner and 
supper of the chickens ; while others say it is lighted 
four times a-day. ‘The difference probably depends on 
the temperature of the weather. When the smoke of the 
fires has subsided, the openings into the gallery from 
the several rooms are carefnlly stuffed with bundles of 
coarse tow, by which the heat is more effectually confined 
than it conld be by a wooden door. 

Whien the fires have been continued for an indefinite 
nnmber of days—eigl.t, ten, or twelve, according to the 
weather—they are discontinued, the heat acquired by the 
ovens being then sufficient to finish the hatching, which 
requires in all twenty-one days, the same time as when 
egos are naturally hatched by a hen. About the middle 
of this period a number of the ewes in the lower are 
moved into the upper rooms, in order to give the embryos 
greater facility in making their exit from the shiell, than 
they would have if a number of ego's were piled up above 
them. 





KSearininaesrias 


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Transverse section and perspective elevation of an stage Igg-oven. 





The number of ovens dispersed in the several districts 
of Egypt has’ been estimated at 386; and this number 
can never be either increased or diminished without thie 
circumstance being known, as it Is indispensable for 
each maimal to be managed by a Bermean, none of 
whom are permitted to practise their art without a certi- 
fied license from the Aga of Berme, who receives ten 
crowns for each license. If, then, we take into account 
that six or cight broods are aunually hatched in each 
oven, and that each brood cousists of from 40,000 to 
$0,000, we may. conclude, that the gross number of 
chickens which are every year hatched in Egypt amounts 
to nearly 100,000,000. ‘Yhey lay their account with 
losing: about a third of all the eggs put into the ovens. 
The Bermean, indeed, guarantees only two-thirds of the 
eggs with which he is intrusted by the undertaker, so 
that out of 45,000 eves he is obliged to return no more 
than 30,000 chickens. If he succedie gg in hatching these, 
the overplus becomes his perquisite, which he adds to 
the sun. of thirty or forty crowns, besides his board, that 
IS paid him for his six months: work. 


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Egyptian Egg-oven. 





*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge i is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, 





LONDON :—-CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
AND 13, PALL- MALL EAST. 


Printed by Wiitt1am Ciowsgs, Duke Street, Lambeth. 





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STRASBURG CATHEDRAL. 


[West Front of Strasburg Cathedral. ] 


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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 





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314 


Tur architecture of the middle ages has left us nothing 
greater or more wonderful than the Cathedral of Stras- 
burg. The preceding engraving represents it as seen 
from the west, with its splendid spire, unrivalled in 
beauty as it is in height,—springing up, it may almost 
be ‘said, till it disappears in the clouds. It is impos- 
sible to gaze on the far-ascending column, with its 
tier on tier of sculptured masonry piled in endless 
succession, without feeling the spirit drawn up along 
with it towards a higher world. There, too, it ws 
stood unchanged for upwards of five hundred years, 


ooking down upon all things else, constantly in motion | 


and passing away, as if it alone, though resting on the 
mutable earth, were not of it, but enduring as the heaven 
it points to. By all its associations it calls us out of and 
away from this present time. It is the representative of 
the future, and it is also the monument of the past,—the 
surviving Witness, in its venerable antiquity, of a long 
procession of revolutions and grand events which stir or 
dazzle men now only in the pictures of history. 

The greater portion of the cathedral of Strasburg is 
still older than the spire; and part of it dates almost 
from the dawn of modern civilization. Tradition asserts 
that, before the country was subdued by the Roman 
arms, the Celts worshipped their divinity Esus, the god 
of war, under a tree which grew upon the spot where the 
cathedral now stands. ‘This sacred trce the Romans are 
said to have cut down, and in its stead to have erected a 
temple, where the inhabitants paid their devotions to the 
German Hercules, whom they called Kruzmanna, the 
same word with the modern German Kriegeman, or 
warrior. The old ecclesiastical clironicles relate that the 
first Christian church built on the spot was erected by 
St. Amand, the first bishop of the Alsatians, about the 
middle of the fourth century. After it had stood a 
hundred years, it was destroyed by Attila and his tuns. 
From the time of the devastations of these barbarians, the 
place remained desolate and uninhabited till it was 
restored, in the commencement of the sixth century, by 
Clovis, king of the Franks, who also rebuilt the church, 
as was the fashion in those times, of wood. It was now 
that Strasburg received its present name, which signifies 
the town of the street, having been called Argentoratum 
by. the Romans. 

The present cathedral was beeun about the middle of 
the cighth century by the French king, Pepin le Bref, 
and finished by his son and successor, Charlemagne. 
The walls of the choir still remain as they were com- 
pleted by these two monarchs in that remote age, The 
rest of the ancient cathedral was destroyed in tlie war 
which followed the death of the | emperor Otho IIT., in 
the year 1002. Their restoration was commericed in 
1015, by the Bishop Werinhaire, or Wernér, by whom 
the work was continued With ereat spirit till his death, 
in 1028, above a hundred thousand persons, it i§ stated, 
having been all that time employed, numbers of whom 
came from foreign countries. The wages of many of 
them were paid “merely in pardons and indulgences. 
After Werner’s death, however, the zeal with Which the 
pious undertaking was prosecuted waxed. faint, and the 
body of the church was not completed till. the year 
1275, being a space of two hundred and sixty years 
from the date of its commencement. 

It still, however, wanted the crowning | orflament and 
distinction of a Christian temple, a tower or spire. That 


addition immediate preparations were made to supply. , 


On the 25th of May, 1277, the first stone of the present 


spire was laid by the Bishop Conrad de Lichtenberg... 


The designer aiid master-builder was Ervin de Stein- 
dach, who, by this creation of his genius, has shown 


Bain »s a * 


himself to have been oné of the greatest architects that 


ever existed. His desion, however, as appears from the. 


original still preserved in the cathedral, differed from the 
one which has been actually executed, inasmuch as it 


fHE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Avausr 17, 


embraced the erection of two spires, one over each ex- 
tremity of the western facade, whereas only that to the 
north has been erected. Ervin de Steinbach died in 
1318, and was succeeded as master-builder by his son 
John, who superintended the work till his death, 
1339. The spire was not finished till 1438; having thus 
been the work of a hundred and sixty-one years. ‘The 
architect who brought the work to a conclusion was 
John Hiilz, who survived to enjoy the reputation which 
it brought him till the year 1449. 

Very different accounts have been given of the height 
of the spire of Strasburg Cathedral; some so extra- 
vagant that they have extended it to twice what it ac- 
tually is. According to a work, entitled “ Description 
de la Cathédral de Strasbourg,” printed in that city in 
1817; being an enlarged and corrected edition of a 
former publication, by a writer of the name of Francois 
Miler, the most accurate measurement makes it about 
four hundred and ninety-four feet high, being within 
thirty feet of the height of the largest of the Egyptian 
pyramids. It is said that; in Ervin dé Steinbach’s ori- 
ginal design, éach.of the two towers which he proposed 
to erect is yaiged 3 a hundred feet beyond this height. 

The single spire which the bnilding possesses rises, 
as hag Been mentioned, from the northern end of the 
west front, and surmounts one of the three great doors 
by which that facade is pierced. Besides its unsur- 
passed elevation, the structure has all the other charac- 
ters of a perfect work. Nothing can be conceived niore 
wonderful than the consummate art by which the archi- 
tect has combined the greatest strength with the most 
admirable lightness and airiness. ‘The masonry does 
not present to the eye a solid mass, but is almost from 
the base to the summit a succession of columns and 
arches with openings between, springing up as if, instead 
of beirig supported by, they grew out of each other. 
The outline of the whole, at the same time, is one of 
fanlttess beauty, while the ornamental sculpturing 
throughout is so rich and delicate that its appearance 
has been usually compared to that of lace. ‘* The 
ancient architects,’ says the French writer Laugier, 
in his ‘ Essai sur |’Architecture, ‘ excelled in the con- 
struction of spires. ‘They seized in a marvellous man- 
lier the spirit of that sort of work, and carried to 
the utmost length the artifices upon which it depends. 
They possessed “the secret of uniting in their erections 
lightness and delicacy of workinauship to elegance of 
form; and, avoiding equally the over-attenuated and 
the over-massive, they attained the precise point in which 
consists the true beauty of this description of building. 
Nothing of this kind is to be compared to the spire of 
the Cathedral of Strasburg. This superb pyramid is a 
masterpiece of skill, ravishing our sénses at once by its 
prodigious élevation, the exactness of its gradual dimi- 
nution, its pleasing shape, the justuess of its proportion, 
and the exquisite finish of its workmanship. I do not 
believe that any architect ever produced a work so boldly 
imagined, so felicitously conceived, and so admirably 
execiited. There is more art and genius in this one 
performance than in all else that we have most won- 
derful in architecture.” 

The cathedral of Strasburg stands in what is called 


| the Place du Déme, which is * the hichest ground in the 


city ; and a tolerably complete view of the east end may 
be obtained from the square, The surrounding houses 
press rather close upon it in other parts; and indeed the 
north and South sides are hidden for nearly their whole 
length by. rows of shops, which were only in the latter 
part of. the last century detached from the very walls of 
the sacred edifice. It consists of @ nave and choir, 
without a transept; the breadth, however, being enlarged 
at the choir by the contiguity Of several chapels. dedicated 
to particular saints, and othier apartmenits. The entire 


length of the interior from east to west is about three 


1833.] THE PENNY 
hundred and fifty-five feet; the breadth of the nave 
one hundred and thirty-two, and its height seventy-two. 
The choir, which is as usual separated from the nave by a 
screen, is also raised about twelve or fifteen feet above it. 
The nave is separated from its side aisles by two rows 
of nine pillars each, which are, so massive that the largest 
is seventy-two feet in circumference. The windows which 
range along the north and south walls are filled with 
painted glass ; and over the middle or principal entrance 
in the west end there is what is called a rose window of 
forty-eight feet in diameter, of exquisite richness and 
beauty. ‘The magnificence. of the interior of the church 
is further increased by many noble paintings, the pro- 
ductions of some of the greatest of the old masters, which 
cover the walls. 

One of the wonders of this cathedral is its famous 
clock. ‘This surprising piece of mechanism, which when 
perfect excelled every other work of the kind in existence, 
is fixed in an apartment ou the south side of the choir. 
Its contriver was Conrad Dasypodius, professor of 


-— 0 Nett see Cnt eet 


The Beguine Nuns.—While at Ghent, ill as he was, Gooch | 


contrived ‘to visit the Beguinage there, and in one of his 


letters gives an account of the evening service in the | 


chapel :—‘‘ When we entered it was nearly dark ; the only 
lights were a few tall tapers before the altar, and as many at 
the opposite extremity of the chapel, before the organ ; the 
rest of the building was in deep gloom, having no other light 
than what it received from these few and distant tapers. 
There were a few people of the town kneeling on straw chairs 
in the open space before the altar, but the rest of the chapel 
was filled on each side from end to end by the Beguine nuns, 
amounting to several hundreds, all in their dark russet gowns 
and stiff white hoods ; and all in twilight, and deep silence, 
and motionless, and the silence interrupted only by the 
occasional tinkling of a bell, or by a nun starting up with 
outstretched arms in the attitude of the crucifixion, in which 
she remained fixed and silent for many minutes. It was the 
strangest and most unearthly scene I ever beheld.” The 
Beguines, like the Sceurs de Charité, act as nurses to the 
sick poor in the hospitals; and the best of nurses they make, 


combining more intelligence than can be found among the | 


uneducated classes, with a high sense of duty.—Lzves of 
British Physicians — Gooch. > as 

Mental Hxercise.—By lookirg into physical causes our 
minds are opened and enlarged; and in this pursuit, whether. 
we take or whether we love the game, the chase is certainly 
of service.—Burke. ? 


Diet of the Corfiots, or inhalitants of Corfu.—A Corfiot 
is a very abstemious person, when he eats or drinks at his 
own expense; but when he feasts at that of a foreigner, he 
is capable of consuming avast quantity of food both animal 
and vegetable, together with copious libations of wine. I 
have seen both males and females of the higher orders 
swallow a portion of every dish and every wine within their 
reach, on a supper-table laid for two hundred persons; but 
in their own houses their fare is much more simple and 
limited. In the Greek church there are no fewer than four 


MAGAZINE. 315 
Lents, which occupy one hundred and ninety-one days of the 
year.; in some of them even fish is proscribed, and bread 
and vegetables are alone tolerated. The estimate for the 
food of a peasant 1s about two pounds of Indian corn per day, 
made into coarse bread, and seasoned by a few leeks, wild 
herbs, or cloves of garlic, with a little oil and vinegar, and 
washed down with some water or weak wine, which they 
denominate “ vinetto.’ On gala days, some caviare or a 
morsel of salt fish adds an additional zest to the meal. On 
this fare the peasant labours a whole day in the fields; he 
rises early, swallows a glass of spirits, eats one-half of his 
provisions at noon, the remainder at the close of the day, 
and he then retires to repose for the night in the same © 
garments which he has laboured in. Fish, especially shell- 

fish, are much used in thetown. Coffee also is in general 
use among the better orders, and of course luxurious living 
is more common among them; but, generally speaking, the 
Corfiots, of whatever rank, as well as the mass of the Greek 
nation, may be fairly called abstemious in their domestic 
habits. The late Dr. Clarke imbibed a notion, which he 
states with considerable confidence in his travels, (vol. iii., 8vo. 
edition, page 255) viz., that eggs, butter, and milk, were con- 
sidered so unwholesome in Greece, as to. be called the three 
poisons; this-statement is somewhat overcharged, at least 
as itregards the islands. They are neither unwholesome, 
nor are they generally considered so. Cow's milk is not 
much esteemed, but goat's milk is in very general use, and 
it is very good of its kind: a good deal of butter is made 
from it, and cheese in abundance. Salt butter, imported 
from England, isin very common use among those who can 


afford it; and a manufactory of fresh butter from the milk 


of cows has long existed at St.Salvador. The eggs are par- 


ticularly good, and in universal use by all who can procure 


them. “So far are they from being considered unwholesome, 
that Dr. Mordo mentions the use of eggs by convalescents 
as an improvement in the Corfiot practice of physic; and he 
attributes the better state of health of the Corflots in his 
time, to what it had formerly been, among other things, to 
the more abundant use of milk.—Hennen’s Medical. J opo- 
graphy of the Mediterranean. - : 


Tortoises —From a document belonging to the archives 
of the cathedral, called the ‘ Bishop's Bain,’ it is well ascer- 
tained that the tortoise at Peterborough must have been 
about two hundred and twenty years old. Bishop Marsh's 
predecessor. in the see of Peterborough had remembered 
it above sixty years, and could recognize, no, visible change. 
He was the seventh bishop who had worn the mitre during 
its sojourn there. If I mistake not, its sustenance and 
abode were provided for in this document. Tis shell was 
perforated, in order to attach it to a tree, &c., to limit its 
tavages among the strawberry borders. “The animal had 
its antipathies and predilections. It would eat endive, green 
pease, and even the leek; while it positively rejected aspa- 
ragus, parsley, and spinage. In the early part of the season 
its favourite pabulum (food) was the flowers of the dandelion 
(leontodon taraxacum), of which it would devour deventy at 
a meal; and lettuce (lactuca sativa), of the latter a good- 
sized one at atime: but if placed between lettuce and the 
flowers of the dandelion, it would forsake the former for the 
latter. It was also partial to the pulp of an orange, which 
it sucked greedily. About the latter end of June, (dis- 
cerning the times and the seasons,) it looked out for fruit, 
when its former choice was forsaken. It ate currants, rasp- 
berries, pears, apples, peaches, nectarines, &c., the riper the 
better, but would not taste cherries. Of fruits, however, 
the strawberry and gooseberry were the most esteemed : it 
made great havoc among the strawberry borders, and would 
take a pint of gooseberries at intervals. The gardener told 
me it knew him well, the hand that generally fed it, and 
would watch him attentively at the gooseberry-bush, where 
it was sure to take its station while he plucked the fruit. I 
could not get it to take the root of the dandelion, nor, in- 
deed, any root I offered it, as that of the carrot, turnip, 
&c.° All animal food was discarded, nor would it take any 
liquid, at least neither milk nor water; and when a leaf 
was moist, it would shake it to expel the adhering wet. 
This animal moved with apparent ease, though pressed by 
a weight of eighteen stone: itself weighed thirteen anda 


half pounds. In cloudy weather it would scoop out a cavity, 


generally in a southern exposure, where it reposed, torpid 

and inactive, until the genial influence of the sun roused it 

from its slumber. When in this state the eyes were closed, 

and the head and neck a little contracted, though not drawn 
25 2 


316 


within the shell. Its sense of smelling was so acute, that 
it was roused from its lethargy if any person approached 
even at a distance of twelve feet. About the beginning of 
October, or the latter end of September, it began to immure 
itself, and had for that purpose, for many years, selected a 
particular angle of the garden; it entered in an inclined 
plane, excavating the earth in the manner of the mole; 
the depth to which it penetrated varied with the character 
of the approaching season, being from one to two feet, ac- 
cording as the winter was mild or severe. It may be added, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aucusr 17, 


that for nearly a month prior to this entry into its dormitory, 
it refused all sustenance whatever. The animal emerged 
about the end of April, and remained for at least a fortnight 
before it ventured on taking any species of food. Its skin 
was not perceptibly cold: its respiration, entirely effected 
through the nostrils, was languid. JI visited the animal, for 
the last time, on the 9th of June, 1813, during a thunder 
storin; it then lay under the shelter of a cauliflower, and 
apparently torpid. — Murray's Kapermmental Researches 
quoted in Str W. Jardine’s Lidition of White's Selborne. 





THE CITY OF YORK. 


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{ View of the City of York.} 


York was certainly a Roman, and, in all probability, was 
previously a British town, if so we may call one of those 
collections of huts occupyiug a cleared-out spot in the 
midst of the woods, which were the only towns our 
island had to boast of when in the possession of its first 
proprietors. ‘The station or settlement, it is most likely, 
derived its name from the river on the banks of which it 
was placed, now the Ouse or Qose, but anciently the 
Oure or Oore, a sound which seems evidently to be 
present in Eb-or-acum, the Latinized forin used by the 
Romans. The orac of Eboracum again is no doubt the 
origin of the modern York. 

Lhe Ouse flows through the city of York, the principal 
part of which, however, stands on the left or east bank 
of the river, immediately above its junction with the 
smaller stream called the Foss. Vessels of ninety tons 
burden can still ascend the Ouse as far as York * but in 
former times that city used to be accounted one of the 
chief marts of foreign commerce in the kingdom.. From 
the foundation, however, of the port of Hull by Edward 
i. towards the close of the thirteenth century, the trade 
and commercial importance of York began rapidly to 
decline. ; : 

Lhe latter place, nevertheless, retained for a long time 
atter not merely the nominal rank, but the real conse- 
vo. of one of the principal towns in the kingdom. 

ork is still the Only city in England, except London, 


whose mayor enjoys the title of lord, for which, among 
other reasons, it claims to stand next in digmity to the 
metropolis, and to be accounted the second city in the 
realm. Inthe Roman times, however, it may be said to 
have been, more than London, tlie capital of the island. 
The Roman emperors who visited this country for the 
most part took up their residence at York. Here the 
emperor Severus died in the year 211, after having made 
York his head-quarters during the three or four pre- 
ceding years which he spent in the istand. Three re- 
markable mounts, a little west from the city, still bear the 
name of the Hills of Severus: and many other remains 
that have been discovered in later ages attest the Roman 
domination. After the establishment of the Saxon Hep- 
tarchy, York became the capital of the kingdom of 
Northumberland. Although, on the arrival of the Nor- 
mans, this district, like the rest of the kingdom, quietly 
submitted in the first instance to the invaders, it was the 
scene on which, soon afterwards, a struggle was made by 
a powerful confederacy of Saxon lords and their retainers 
to regain their independence. This insurrection, how- 
ever, was soon crushed by the activity and energy of the 
conqueror, who, laying siewe to York, starved it intoa 
surrender in six months, and then, after his usual 
fashion, erected a fortress in the close neighbourhood of 
the town, to keep it for the future in awe.’ “This was thie 
origin of the present castle, situated at the southers 


1833.] 


extremity of the city, in the angle formed by the conflu- 
ence of the two rivers. At a little distance. is a ruin 
called Clifford’s Tower, which was the keep of the old 
castle, and took its name from’ the Cliffords, whom 
William appointed the first governors of that stronghold. 
In early times parliaments were frequently held at York ; 
and in 1299, Edward I. even removed the courts of law 
from London to this city, where they continued to sit 
for sevell years. p a 

The city of York stands in the midst of an extensive 
plain, the largest certainly in Great Britain, if not, as 
has been sometimes asserted, in Europe. Viewed from 
the iminediate neighbourhood, the peculiarity which most 
strikes the eye is the ancient wall by which it is encom- 
passed,—supposed to have been built. by Edward I., 
about 1280, on the line of the old Roman fortification. 
This wall, which had fallen greatly into decay, never 
having recovered from the damage it sustained when the 
city was besieged by Sir Thomas Fairfax and General 
Lesley, in 1644, has been lately repaired, and a walk is 
now formed alone the top of part of it, which is a 
favourite resort of the inhabitants. 

Seen from a greater distance, York presents a crowd 
of pointed spires shooting up from the midst of the 
houses, the-indications of those numerous parish churches 
of which it still retains.twenty-three out of. forty-two 
which it formerly possessed.. Far.above all these, how- 
ever, rise the enormous bulk and lofty towers of the 
Minster, which stands in the north part of the city, and 
to the east of the river. In the opposite quarter is the 
Castle, a large building, erected. about the beginning of 
the last century, on’ the site of the Conqueror’s Fortress, 
and serving as a prison for criminals. and debtors. Be- 


side the County Prison are the County Hall and the 
Lhe other principal. public buildings: 


Courts of Assize. 
are the Mansion House; an elegant structure, erected in 
1725; the Guildhall, which dates from the middle of the 
fifteenth ceutury, and is one of the finest Gothic rooms 
in England, being ninety-six.feet.in length by forty-three 
in breadth and twenty-nine and a half in height; the 
Council Chamber, built in 1819; the Assembly Rooms, 
built in 1730; the ‘Theatre, first opened in 1769, and 
thoroughly repaired in 1822; together with the County 
Lunatic Asylum, the establishment of the same kind 
belonging to the Society of Friends called the Retreat, 
the County Hospital, the New City Gaol, the New City 
House of Correction, &. The Archbishop of York has 
no house in the city, the only residence attached to the 
see being the Palace at Bishopsthorpe, which stands on 
the west bank of the Ouse, about three miles farther 
down the river. 

The entire circuit of the walls of York is about three 
miles and three-quarters, being somewliat less than that of 
the walls of the City of London. The space within, how- 
ever, is inuich less densely occupied by streets and houses 
than it is in London. In 1881 the population was 
29,359, having increased to that amount from 20,787 in 
the preceding ten years. The streets of York used {or- 
inerly to be for the most part extremely narrow—many 
of the houses being built of wood, and, according to the 
common fashion of that style of architecture, often over- 
hanging the road below with their upper stories. Many 
of these ancient edifices, however, have been taken down 
of late years, and the principal streets widened and other- 
wise improved. Still the city, in almost every part, 
wears a look of other times; and could no more be mis- 
taken for a modern town, notwithstanding the modern 
comforts and elegances that are to be found here and 
there interspersed among the relics of the past, than an 
ancient lady could be mistaken for her grand-daughter 
because she may be attired in a gown or head-dress of 
the same fashion. 

Among the most important of .the recent alterations 
and repairs which have taken place in York, are io be 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


317 


reckoned those connected with the two rivers on the 
banks of which it stands. The Fors has been changed 
from little better than a stagnant ditch, into a clear =F 
ornamental stream; and the navigation of the Ouse 
which had been long neglected, has also been ereatly 
improved since the commencement of the present conta 
New bridges have likewise been thrown over both rivers: 
that over the Fors being a single ar:-h, and that over the 
Ouse consisting of three elliptical arches, of which the 
centre one 1s sevelity-five, and each of the others sixty- 
hive feet in span. The old bridge which crossed the 
Fors, was erected about the beginning of the fifteenth 
century ¢ that of the Ouse is supposed to have been built 
at the expense of the Archbishop Walter.Grey, about the 
year 1235. It consisted of five pointed’ arches, as it 
may be seen depicted in “ Drake’s Antiquities of the 
City of York.” The centre arch was supposed to be the 
largest in Europe, with the exception of that of the 
Rialto, at Venice.- A gravelled walk: was some years 
ago formed for about a mile along the left bank-of the 
river, immediately to the south of the ‘bridge, which, 
being now shaded with lofty elms, and having become a 
fashionable promenade, is one of the greatest ernaments 
of the.city.  - > Tet: ae” 
In:a description of York, its ancient gates ought not 
to be forgotten. _ They are four in number, namely, 
Micklegate Bar to the south-west, over the entry from 


London; Walmgate Bar to. the south-east, Monk Bar 


to the north-east, and Bootham Bar to-the north-west, 
facing the great road from Scotland.: All these struc- 
tures are at least as old as the thirteenth century; and 
the inner arch of the Micklegate Bar, which is a portion 
of a circle, has been supposed to be of the Roman times. 
Besides ithe four. principal gates, there were formerly also 
five posterns, or smaller and, more private: eutrances ; 
but two of them, the Skeldergate and Castlegate posterns, 
have, within these few years, been taken down. . : | 
The chief glory of this city, however, is. its noble 
cathedral, of which we gave an account in a’ former 
number. In the possession of this ¢randest of ‘all our 
ecclesiastical edifices, York,, notwithstanding all that it 
has lost, may be said still'to retain, unimpaired,’ the 
proudest feature of its ancient importance and splendour 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—MARCO POLO.—No. 2. 
Tue indefatigable Italians pursued their course directly 
to Khoten, another city of great celebrity and trade, 
where very valuable chalcedonies, jaspers, and other 
precious stones were found. ‘Though now far within 
the dominions of the great khan, they were still fur 
from having surmounted all their difficulties and dan- 
gers. They had to toil across the great desert of 
Kobi,—called by the Mongul Tartars “the Hungry 
Desert.” The horrid nature of this immense, barren, 
sandy tract, and the difficulties of crossing it, have 
been sufficiently confirmed by more recent travellers, 
particularly*by the accurate John Bell of Antermony, 
who in 1720 traversed another part of it in the suite 
of a Russian ambassador sent by Peter the Great to 
China, but Marco wrote in a superstitious age, and 
taking with too much faith the marvellous relations of 
the ignorant Tartars, he crowded the desert with all 
sorts of imaginary horrors, some of which may be re- 
duced to the natural phenomena, of the mrage, whilst 
others—such as the malignant spirits that decoyed the 
travellers from their path, and left them to perish of 
hunger in untrodden solitudes, and that filled the air 
“with the sounds of all kinds of musical instruments, 
aud also of drums and the clash of arms,” may be safely 
assigned to the effects of the winds and to fancy. Marco 
does not forget to make proper mention of the inesti- 
inable services of the camel in deserts like these. They 
were thirty days journeying across the Hungry Desert, 


318 


after. which they came to Scha-cheu, or “ the City of the 
Sands,” where they found among the idolatrous popula- 
tion a few Nestorian Christians and Mahometans,—one 
of the many curious proofs afforded by Marco that both 
those religions had penetrated into the most remote re- 
wions of the earth, where Europeans little thought they 
existed, :: 4 

From the City of the Sands they travelled to Kan- 
cheu, now considered as being within the boundary of 
China Proper, but then belonging to the very compre- 
hensive district of Tangut. Marco, on his way, describes 
the asbestos, which he found woven into cloth that was 
incombustible like the famous salamander. As this 
curious fossil or earthy mineral was little known at 
the time in the south of Europe, Marco’s description of 
it was held as one of those things for which he had 
drawn on his imagination. 'That description, however, 
was perfectly veracious and correct. ‘‘ The fossil sub- 
stance,’ says the honest Venetian, ‘ which is procured 
from the mountains, consists of fibres not unlike those 
of wool. This, after being exposed to the sun to dry, 
is pounded in a brass mortar, and is then washed until 
all the earthy particles are separated. The fibres thus 
cleansed and detached from each other, they then spin 
into thread, and weave into cloth. In order to render 
the texture white, they put it into the fire, and suffer 
it to remain there about an hour; when they draw it 
out uninjured by the flame and become white as snow. 
By the same process they afterwards cleanse it when 
it happens to contract spots, no other abstergent 
lotion than .an igneous one being ever applied to it.” 
Marco adds with great simplicity,—‘ Of the salamander 
under the form of a serpent, supposed to exist in fire, I 
could never discover any traces in the eastern regions.” 

At the same part of his travels Marco also describes 
the country that produces rhubarb,—a valuable drug 
which had long been known in medicine, though few 
Europeans in those days knew whence it was brought*. 

At Kan-cheu, on the borders of China Proper, the 
travellers were detained a whole year. So long a time 
had elapsed since the father-and uncle of Marco had left 
China as Kublai’s ambassadors that they were forgotten ; 
the Khan, moreover, happened to be in a distant part of: 
his immense dominions, and for some months heard 
nothing of the detention of his Italian friends on the 
frontiers. As soon, however, as he was informed of that 
circumstance, he commanded that the state mandarins 
should take charge of the Poli, show them all the 
honours due to ambassadors, and forward them to his 
presence, at his expense. At Yen-king, near the spot 
where Peking now stands, the travellers, after a journey 
that had occupied no less time than three years and a 
half, “ were honourably and graciously received, by the 
Grand Khan, in a full assembly of his principal officers.” 
They performed the cotow, or nine prostrations, as they 
are now practised in the Chinese court, and Marco’s 
father and uncle then rising, related, ‘* in perspicuous 


*. Rhubarb, called by the Chinese ta-hoang or “ yellow root,” is 
found in many parts of Tartary and Thibet, but the best grows in 
China Proper near the great wall. We glean the following curious 
particulars from John Bell of Antermony :— 

°* It appears that the Monguls never accounted rhubarb worth 
cultivating, but that the world is obliged to the marmots for the quan- 
tities, scattered at random, in many parts of their country. (He has 
mentioned before, that wherever you see ten or twenty plants of 
rhubarb, you are sure of finding several burrows of marmots under. 
the shade of their broad-spreading leaves.) For whatever part of 
the ripe seed happens to be blown among the thick grass, can very. 
seldom reach the ground, but must there wither and die; whereas, 
should it fal] among the loose earth, thrown up by the marmots, it 
immediately takes root, and produces a new plant. After digging 
and gathering the rhubarb, the Monguls cut the large roots into. 
small pieces, in order to make them dry more readily. In the 
middle of every piece they scoop a hole, through which a cord is 
drawn, in order to suspend them in any convenient place. They 
hang them, for most part, about their tents, and sometimes on the 
horns of their sheep.” . -' 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auaust 11, 


language,” all that they ‘had done since their de- 
parture, and all that had happened to them, the khan 
listening “ with attentive silence.” ‘The letters and 
presents of the pope were next laid before the tolerant 
Tartar. conqueror, who, it is said, received with peculiar 
reverence some oil from the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. 
The khan was then struck with the appearance of young 
Marco, whom he had noticed, and asked who he was. 
‘““ Nicolo Polo,” says Marco, who speaks of himself in 
the third person, ‘* made answer that the youth was his 
son, and the servant of his majesty, when the grand 
khan condescended to take .him under his protection, 
and caused him to. be immediately. enrolled amongst his 
attendants of honour. In consequence of this dis- 
tinguished notice he was held in high estimation and 
respect by. all belonging to the court. He learned ina 
short time and adopted the manners of the Tartars, and 
acquired a proficiency in four different languages, which 
he became qualified to read and write.: These lan- 
guages probably were the Mongul, Ighur, Manchu- 
Tartar, and Chinese. As soon as he had acquired the 
laneuages necessary for his functions, he was actively 
employed in affairs of great importance by Kublai, who, 
in the first place, sent him on a mission to Karazan, 
(Khorasan or Kharism,—geographers are not decided 
which,) at the distance of six months’ journey from the 
imperial residence. He acquitted himself with wisdom 
and prudence. 

The favour of the Poli at the court of the Tartar con- 
queror was also increased by Marco’s father and uncle, 
who soon after their arrival suggested the employment 
of catapult, or battering machines, against Siang-yang- 
fu, an important city where the Cifinese still held out 
against the Tartars, the siege of that place having lasted 
three years. The catapultae were constructed under the 
superintendence of the brothers; and when employed on 
the walls of Siang-yang-fu, that city soon fell. 

** Marco, on his part,’ again to use his own words, 
“perceiving that the Grand Khan took a pleasnre in 
hearing accounts of whatever was new to him respecting 
the customs and manners of people, and the peculiar 
circumstances of distant countries, endeavoured, where- 
ever he went, to obtain correct information on these 
subjects, and made notes of all he saw and heard, in 
order to gratify the curiosity of his master. In short, 
during seventeen years that he continued in his service, 
he rendered himself‘so useful, that he was employed on 
confidential missions to every part of the empire and its 
dependencies; and sometimes also he travelled on his 
own private account, but always with the consent and 
sanctioned by the authority of the Grand Khan. Under 
such circumstances it was that Marco Pole had the 
opportunity. of acquiring.a knowledge, either by his own 
observation or what he collected from others, of so many 
things until his time unknown, respecting the eastern 
parts of the world, and which he diligently and regularly 
committed to writing, as in the sequel will appear.” 
This is only a frank and fair exposition of the rare ad- 
vantages that the Venetian traveller enjoyed. | 

So high did Marco Polo rise in the estimation and 
favour of the liberal-minded Kublai, who (unlike the 
sovereigns who preceded and followed him.on the throne 
of China) readily employed Arabians, Persians, and 
other foreigners, that when a member of one of the 
creat tribunals was unable to proceed to the govern- 
ment of a city for which he had been nominated, the 
emperor sent the young. Venetian in his stead. Marco 
mentions this honourable event of his life in the most 
modest manner, and only incidentally wile describing 
the said city, which was Yang-cheu-fu in the province of 
Kiang-nan, a place then of great importance, having 
twenty-seven towns under its jurisdiction. ‘These are 
the Venetian’s words, and the. only allusion he makes to 
the subject: “ The people are idolaters, and subsist by 


1833.) 


trade and manual arts. They manufacture arms and all 
sorts of warlike accoutrements, 1 consequence of which 
many troops are ‘stationed in this part of the country. 
The city is the place of residence of one of the twelve 
nobles before spoken Of, who are appointed by his 
majesty to the government of the provinces ; and in the 
room of one of these, Marco Polo, by.special order of 
his majésty, acted as governor of this city during the 
space of three years.” Our readers must be reminded 
that, by a fundamental law of the empire, no viceroy or 
governor can retain the government of oie place for a 
longer period than three years. 

Though loaded with honours and enriched, the Poli, 
after seventeen years’ residence in China, were forcibly 
moved by the natural desire of revisiting their native 


country. _ Their protector Kublai was now stricken with. 


years and infirmities ;—his death might leave them ex- 
posed to a less liberal and less unprejudiced successor ; 
and Marco’s father and uncle were themselves far 
advanced in age, and might well feel an ardent longing 
to leave their mortal remains in the beautiful city of the 
Adriatic which had given them birth. They spoke to 
the venerable emperor, whose answer was negative, and 
decided, and not unmixed with reproach. “ If they 
wanted more wealth,” said he, ‘‘ he was ready to gra- 
tify them to the utmost extent of their wishes; but with 
the subject of their request he could not comply.” _ 

The Venetians had no hopes of conquering Kublai’s 
pertinacity, when the following curious circumstance 
came to their aid :—. 

Arghun, a Mogul Tartar prince, who ruled in Persia, 
and who was the grand nephew of the emperor Kublai, 
lost his principal wife, who. was also of the imperial 
stock.. To replace her, he sent an embassy to China to 
solicit Kublai for another princess of their own common 
lineage. Kublai readily consented, and selected from 
his numerous grand-children a beautiful girl who had 
attained her seventeenth year. ‘The betrothed queen set 
out with the ambassadors and a splendid retinue, for 
Persia; but after travelling several months, (owing to 
fresh wars that had broken out among the Tartars,) the 
turbulent state of some countries through which they 
had to pass prevented their progress, and they were 
obliged to return to the Chinese capital. | 

During the matrimonial negociations, Marco Polo, 
whose passion for travelling increased with his means of 
cratifying it, was absent, on the emperor's business, in 
the Indian Ocean; but he happened to return to China 
with the small fleet under his command just as the 
affanced princess found herself in this uncomfortable 
dilemma. . Marco boldly proposed that she should be 
carried to her husband by sea,—an idea that never could 
have struck the Chinese, who were timid navigators, or 
the ‘Tartars, who were altogether ignorant of navigation. 
He described, from his own recent expérience, the 
India Ocean—which was deemed so perilous—as safe 
and easily navigable. The ambassadors from Persia, 
who had now been three years on their mission, were as 
anxious to return to their native couutry as the Poli were 
to return to Venice, and no sooner had Marco’s obser- 
vations reached their ears than they sought a conference 
with him. His representations dissipated all their 
doubts, and, it appears, the fears’of the princess. He 
engaged he would carry them to-the Persian Gulf at 
much less risk, expense, and in léss time, than the over- 
land journey would cost them. But nothing could be 
done without the emperor’s permission. - 

“ Should his Majesty,” says Marco, “ incline to give 
his consent, the ambassadors were then to urge him to 
suffer the three Europeans (the Polt), as being all persons 
well skilled in the practice of navigation, to accompany 
them, until they should reach the territory of Kine Ar- 
ghun. The Grand Khan, upon receiving this applica- 

tion, showed by his coulitetiatice that it was exceedingly 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


319 


displeasing to him, averse as he was to parting with 
the Venetians. Feeling, nevertheless, that he tout not 
with propriety do otherwise than consent, he yielded to 
their entreaty. Had it not been that he. found himself 
constrained by the importance and urgency of this pecu- 
liar ‘caSe, they would never have obtained permission to 
withdraw themselves from his service. He sent for them 
however, and addressed them with much kindness and 
condescension, assuring them of his regard, and requiring 
from them a promise that; when they should have resided 
some time in Europe, and with their own family, they 
would return to him once more. With this object in 
view he caused them to be furnished with the golden 
tablet (or royal passport), which contained his order for 
their having free and safe conduct through every pait 
of his dominions, with the needful supplies for them- 
selves and their attendants. He likewise gave them 
authority to act in the capacity of his ambassadors to 
the Pope, the Kings of France and Spain, and the other 
Christian Princes,” 
(To be continued. ] 


HEMP. 

Hemp is now almost universally cultivated, finding a 
congenial soil in nearly all parts of the world. It is a 
plant of the temperate climates, but it will thrive in very 
cold regions; and although hot countries are not fae 
vourable to its growth, yet as it is but a short time in 
the ground, it may be cultivated in any place that is 
habitable by man, 3 

It is grown in Persia, Egypt, and various parts of the 
East Indies ; in Africa, in the United States of America, 
in Canada, and Nova Scotia. Marco Polo mentions 
that hemp and flax, as well as great quantities of cotton, 
were cultivated in his time in the neighbourhood of 
Kashgar in the lesser Bucharia, and in the province of 
Khoten in Chinese Tartary. According to Mr, Clarke 
Abel, in China proper, though the Xing-ma (Sida tilia-- 


jolia) is preferred for cordage, the Gé ma (Cannabis 


sativa, or hemp) is also cultivated and manufactured 
into ropes. At 'Tung-chow, that distinguished naturalist 
saw the sid@ and cannabis growing together, the first 
in long ridges or in fields like the millet, the second in 
smal} patches. 

Dampier was told that the Spaniards at Leon in 
South America made cordage of hemp, but he saw no 
manufactory. Thunberg, on a journey from the Cape 
of Good Hope into the interior of Africa, found the Hot- 
tentots cultivating hemp (Cannabis sativa). . “ This is 
a plant,” says he, “ universally used in this country, 
though for a purpose very different from that to which it 
is applied by the industrious Europeans. The Hottentot 
loves nothing so well as tobacco, and with no other 
thing can he be so easily enticed into servitude ; but for 
smoking he finds tobacco not sufficiently strone, and 
therefore mixes it with hemp chopped very fine.” 

Hemp is cultivated in Great Britain and Ireland, but 
uot very abundantly. The counties of England in which 
it is principally grown are, Suffolk, Yorkshire, Somerset- 
shire, and the fens of Lincolnshire; in Norfolk and 
Dorsetshire some few hemp grounds are likewise to be 
seen. Hemp is likewise raised in various parts of 
France, Spain, Denmark, and Sweden, in Wallachia 
and Moldavia, and in several of the Italian states; but 
with the exception of Italy, which affords a trifling ex- 
port, and of Wallachia and Moldavia that supply the 
‘Turkish fleet with cordage, none of these countries pro- 
duce it in sufficient abundance for their own consuinp- 
tion. Among the Italian states the kingdom of Naples 
is very productive of this useful vegetable substance. 

A very considerable quantity is grown in the Terra di 
Lavoro and the districts in the immediate neighbourhood 
of the capital of that kingdom. In 1827 there were 
maily fields of imimense extent Jying a little fi’ the rear 


320 


of the swampy shore that extends between the mouth of 
the river Volturnus and Cape Misenum, devoted to this 
produce. On account of the very disagreeable effluvia 

roceeding from: the hemp while macerating, and from 
an idea that it is obnoxious both to the water and the 
atmosphere, the Neapolitan government has appointed 
the Lago d’Agnano (a small lake beautifully situated, 
about a mile in circumference, and between three and 
four miles from the city of Naples) for this purpose; nor 
are the growers allowed to steep their hemp in any other 
place. Those who happen to raise the plant in thinly 


inhabited places where there is water at hand, as near. 
the swampy shore we have mentioned, put it through 


the process of maceration on the spot, but the pro- 
hibition by law extends to all places within a circuit 
of many miles, except the Lago d’Agnano. ‘To reach 
that lake the greater part of the hemp has to pass 
through the city of Naples; and as, the cars on which 
‘t is transported are of great magnitude, and many 
streets of the capital are narrow, and all of them 
crowded, the cars are not permitted to enter the town 
until one or two hours after midnight. Every person 
who has resided at Naples during the summer must 
have been made sensible of the very considerable 
quantity of hemp grown in the neixhbourhood, by seeing, 
day after day, the long lines of cars laden with it sta- 
tioned at three of the four great avenues to the city 
waiting the appointed hour; and by having his rest 
broken night after night by the rumbling 
these numerous and heavy vehicles as they roll over the 
lava-paved streets of the town towards the grotto of 
Posilippo and the lake. In the long subterranean road 
or tunnel of Posilippo, through which also they must, of 
necessity pass, there being no other communication, the 
noise they make is astounding. What with going, and 
returning after the hemp has been macerated, the in- 
habitants of a considerable part of the city of Naples are 
regaled with this nocturnal music for more than two 
months every year. | — a" 
‘The grand mart, however, for hemp as an article of 
commerce, is Russia, where it is grown.in immense 
quantities and of the best quality. The principal places 
of its cultivation are .in the southern and western pro- 
vinces bordering upon Poland, and in the provinces of 
Poland which belong to Russia. , 'The.plant even grows 
wild in some parts of Russia. In Siberia and. about 
the river Volga it is found flourishing in. natural vigour 
near spots. where towns have formerly stood. ‘The 
Cossack and ‘Tartar. women gather it in considerable 
quantities in, autumn, when it has shed. its seed and 
begins to die away. . It is. not, however, collected by 
them for its fibres, but is used, as by some other eastern 


people, as an article of food, for which it is prepared in. 


VALI OLIG WS. le oe Time  —_—- ) 

Much anxiety was evinced. some years since in this 
country that: we should obtain supplies of hemp from 
our own: dependencies,-and its cnitivation was very 
much encouraged at Canada. ‘The attention of the 
planters being strongly called to it, several samples of 
hemp of Canadian growth were sent home. ‘These were 
placed under the examination of the best judges, by 
whom they were considered defective, rather from the 
faulty mode of preparation than from any inferiority in 
the material itself. Some, was found to be of as great/a 
leneth as the Italian hemp, which is longer than that 
from the Baltic, but the whole was mixed together with- 
out any rerard to length or quality. _ The Petersburgh 
hemp, on the contrary, is always carefully assorted into 
different classes, which of course obtain very different 
prices in the market, It was supposed that the Cana- 
dian planters would have readily. attained to better 
methods of preparing and assorting, but they have not 
yet been able to compete with the Russian cultivators, 


* Palas’ Travels, tom. i. p. 356, tom. iii. p. 266. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


loise made by. 


[August 17, 1833. 


who still exclusively supply our market. At the latter 
end of the fast century, in consequence of our extensive 
warfare, the importation of this article into England very 
much increased. For the five years ending with 1776 
the averave annual quantity was 246,573 cwt.; in the 
same number of years ending with 1799 the annua. 
average is found to be more than double that quantity, 
being 573,358 cwt. It is calculated that the sails and 
cordage of a first-rate man-of-war require 180,000 Ibs. 
of rough hemp for their construction. During a time 
of peace, therefore, the demand for hemp is much less 
than in a period of war, and accordingly we find that the 
averave importation of the last five years is very nearly 
the same as that in 1799; but an average taken after 
the lapse of so many years, if the circumstances of each 
period were perfectly similar as to our foreign relations, 
should show a great increase, in accordance with the 
rapid progress of population and manufactures... 

We learn from the Annals of Agriculture, that in the 
year 1785 the quantity of hemp exported from’ Peteis- 
burgh to England alone, amounted to’ 353,900 ewt. ; 
and assuming that it requires five acres of ground to 
produce a ton of hemp, the whole space of ground 
requisite for raising the above quantity would amount 
to 88,475 acres. Since that period it las been much 
more extensively grown in Russia. We find that in 
1799 abont 600,000 cwt. were exported in British ships 
from St. Petersburgh. 


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| (Common Hemp.—Cannabis sativa. } F 
#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at - 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


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} 


THE PENNY MAGAZ 





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We fancy there are but few of our readers whose imagi- 
nations, at least in childhood, have not been delighted 
yet terrified by the popular account of that most wonder- 
ful tree called the Upas. ‘The fabulous account of this 
tree was probably first introduced by some Dutch soldiers 
or seamen into Europe, where it was lone current 
and received with greater or less faith; but the story 
rested upon no better authority, till one Foersch, about 
the year 1783, published a detailed description of the 
Upas, which more than confirmed all the wonderful 
things that uad been told of it. 

In 1785 his description was inserted in a respectable 

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English periodical work, the “ London Magazine,” with 
implicit faith, and this article continued to be the source 
whence our instructors of children chiefly drew their 
information. ‘Though the whole story may be fresh in 
the memory of our readers, we will briefly mention its 
principal points, to show how they bear on the real ex- 
istence and nature of a poison-tree that is actually found 
erowing in Java, and what an imposing fabric of fiction 
has been raised on the simple ground-work of truth. 
Foersch, who had been only third surgeon to the 
Dutch forces at Samarang, a settlement on the coast of 
Java, says, that in 1775-6, having attained to the rank 


27 


of principal surgeon, he determined to travel into the 
interior of the island, which, he says, had been little 
visited by Europeans. One of his objects was to obtain 
accurate information concerning the tree called by the 
Malay natives of the island ‘‘ Bohun Upas,” of which he 
had heard and read such marvellous things, as shook his 
faith, till a strict inquiry convinced him of the error of 
his incredulity. It was after his return fram these 
travels that he drew up his account of the tree, which he 
introduces with this assurance: ‘I will relate only 
simple and unadorned facts of which I have been an 
eye-witness,—the reader, therefore, may depend on the 
accuracy of my account.” 

According to this account the dreadful poison-tree was 

situated at the distance of twenty-seven leagues from 
Batavia, and only fourteen leagues from Soura-Charta, 
the place of the emperor’s residence. It grew in a deep 
valley entirely surrounded by barren mountains. Being 
determined to go as near to the fatal spot as safety per- 
mitted, and having obtained the emperor's sanction for 
so doing, Foersch set off and travelled entirely round 
the mountains that enclosed the Upas valley, keeping 
always at the distance of eighteen milcs from its centre, 
—an operation which we can account for, only by 
supposing him endowed with mathematical instinct, for 
he did not know where the centre of the valley was! 
_ At. court, a Malay priest had furnished him with a 
letter of introduction to another Malay priest, conside- 
rately placed by the emperor to prepare the souls of the 
criminals who were sent to gather the poison of the tree. 
This shriving priest, he says, lived at a place fifteen or 
sixteen miles from the tree, and was very kind and com- 
municative. He informed Foersch that he had held his 
sad office for thitty years, during which time he had 
despatched seven hundred individuals to the Upas, of 
whom not two in twenty had returned. ‘The veracious 
surgeon had, of course, learned before that only criminals 
who had incurred capital punishment were sent on this 
most perilous errand. 


When the victims of justice, the story continues, have. 


chosen this lot, they are generally instructed how to 
proceed with the greater chanee of safety, and in- 
dividually presented with a silver or tortoiseshell box, 
in which they are to deposit the poison. They then 
put on their best clothes, and journey, accompanied 
by their friends and relatives, as far as the residence of 
the priest: there that holy man furnishes each of them 
with a pair of leather gloves, and a long leather cap 
which descends as far as the breast, having two eye-holes 
with glasses to permit the wearer to see. When thus 
accoutred, the priest repeats the instructions for the 
journey, and after taking leave of their weeping friends, 
the criminals ascend a particular mountain pointed out 
to them—then descend on the other side, where they 
meet a rivulet, whose course they are to follow, as it will 
guide them to the tree. 

Foersch asserts that he was present at one of these 
melancholy departures from the old priest’s house, and 
had such close communication with the victims, that he 
gave them some silken cords wherewith to measure the 
tree, and earnestly requested them to bring him back 
some piece of the wood, or a small branch, or a few 
leaves of tlhe Upas. He obtained, however, only two 
dry leaves, with the scanty information that the tree was 
one of middling size, with five or six young ones of the 
same kind growing close by it. A continual exhalation 
(according to the few who returned) issued from the tree, 
and was seen to rise and spread in the air “like the putnd 
steam of a marshy cavern.” Whatever this vapour, or 
the miasmata from it, touched, it killed ; and as they had 
cursed that spot for centuries, not a tree, save the Upas 
and Its progeny—not a bush, uor a blade of erass was 
found in the valley, nor on the surrounding mountains, 


for a circuit of many miles. “All animal life was equally. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auausr O4, 


extinct—there was not a bird of the air to be seen—not 
a rat, nor a mouse, nor any even of those reptiles that 
swarm in foul places. . In the neighbourhood.of the tree 
the barren ground was covered with dead bodies and 
skeletons—the remains of preceding criminals. This 
was the only circumstance that shewed animate beings 
had ever beeu there ; and as the birds and beasts of prey 
and the consuming worms could not batten in that valley 
of death, those ghastly relics would long remain uncon- 
sumed to warn every new comer of his all but -imevita- 
ble fate. 

After many minor details of the wonderful effects of 
the tree upon the spot where it grows, Foersch proceeds 
to inform his readers that the poison used artificially 
by the people of Java is the gum of the Upas mixed 
up with citron-water, &c., and goes on to describe its 
lightning-hke rapidity of effect in this form. Heé says 
he was present at the execution of thirteen women of the 
palace, convicted of infidelity to the emperor’s bed—that 
these victims, being slightly wounded by a kritz, or 
Malayan dageer, whose point had been dipped in the 
poison, instantaneously suffered the greatest agonies, 
and were all dead within sixteen minutes. He is positive 
as to the number of minutes, for, says he, ‘‘ I held my 
watch in my hand all the time.” He adds, that a fort- 
night after he saw seven Malayans executed in the same 
way. 

The statements of this person were at length met 
with positive contradictions by a Dutchman named 
Lambert Nolst, a translation of whose memoir was 
published in the 64th volume of the ‘‘ Gentleman’s 
Magazine,” in 1794. This gentleman, a physician 
and member of the Batavian Experimental Society at 
Rotterdam, on the authority of one John Matthew, 
who had resided twenty-three years in the island 
of Java, and had been there at the time when I*oersch 
pretended to have made his wonderful observations, 
most indisputably proved Foersch’s story of the Upas 
tree to be a bare-faced forgery. 

Not long after Foersch’s fabrication, a Swedish na- 
turalist, whose name has been latinized into Aejmeleus, 
in an inaugural discourse read at the University of 
Upsal, gave an account of the Bohun Upas, or poison- 
tree of Macassar. He says this tree grows in many of the 
warmer parts of India, as Java, Sumatra, Bal, Ma- 
cassar, and Celebes. That there are two species of it, 
miale and female. ‘That its trunk is thick, its branches 
are spreading, its bark dark brown; its wood solid, pale 
yellow, variegated with black spots, and its fructification 
as yet unknown. The wild fancies of Foersch find no 
place in this discourse, hut the tree whose poison had 
been found so dangerous, was still an object of wonder 
and awe; and as the honest naturalist did not pretend 
like his predecessor to speak in all things as an eye- 
witness, a little lingering exaggeration may be excused 
in him. 

At length, during the English occupation of Batavia, 
we obtained a correct description of the poison-tree of 
Java, which, in all likelihood, is the same as that found 
erowing in Macassar and other places in the Indian 
seas. ‘Chis description was furnished by Dr. Horsfield, 
and will be found with all its scientific detail im vol. vii. 
of ‘* Batavian Transactions,” or, as quoted in a note, in 
Sir Stamford Raffles’ splendid work on Java. We 
merely abridge the Doctor's account, begging our readers 
to remember the particulars hitherto mentioned. Our 
author says, that though Foersch committed an extrava- 
gant forgery, yet the existence of a tree in Java, from 
the sap of which a fatal poison is prepared, is a fact. 
This tree is the “ Anchar,’ which grows in greatest 
abundance at the eastern extremity of the island. It be- 
longs to the twenty-first class of Linnzus, or the Mone- 
cia. The male and female flowers are produced on 
the same branch at no great distance from each other ; 


.- - a ww te > = 


the females being in general-above the males. The 
seed-vessel is an oblong drupe, covered with the calyx.; 
the seed, an ovate nut with cell. ‘The top of the stem 
sends off a few stout branches, which spreading nearly 
horigoutally with several irregular curves, divide into 
smaller branches, and form an hemispherical, not very 
regular crown. The stem is cylindrical, perpendicular, 
aud rises completely naked to the height of sixty, or 
seventy, or even eighty feet; near the surface of the 
ground it spreads obliquely hke many of our large forest 
trees. ‘Phe bark is whitish, shehtly bursting ito lon- 
oitudinal furrows. Near the ground this bark is, in old 
wees, more than half an ineli thick, and when wounded, 
yields copiously the milky juice from which the poison is 
prepared. ‘This juice or sap, is yellowish, rather frothy ; 
and when exposed to air its surface becomes brown. In 
consistence it is much like milk, but thicker and more 
viscid. 

ihe sap is contained in the true bark, or corter. The 
inner bark (d/ber) is a close, fibrous texture lke that of 
the paper mulberry-tree called morus papyfera; and 
when separate] from the other bark and cleansed, re- 
senibles coarse linen. It has been worked into strong 
ropes; and that from young trees is often converted by 
peor people into a coarse stuff which they wear while 
working in the fields. If wetted by rain, however, this 
flimsy covering aflects the wearer with an intolerabie 
itching. Although this curious property of the prepared 
inner Dark ig known wherever the tree grows, yet the 
preparation of poison from its sap is a secret exclusively 
possessed by the inhabitants of the eastern extremity of 
Java. 

In making his numerous experiments on the tree, Dr. 
Horsfield had some difficulty with his native labourers, 
who feared a cutaneous eruption, but nothing more. 
Now, we may mention here, that this eruption, and 
other symptoms, are produced by the well-known Chinese 
varuish-tree, whose sap, like that of this poison-tree, is 
procured by making incisions in the trunk. 

The anchar is one of the largest trees in Java; it 
delights in a fertile, not very elevated, soil, and is found 
only in the midst of the largest forests! ‘“ It is,” says 
Dr. Horsfield, ‘‘ on all sides surrounded by shrubs and 
plants, and in no instance with barren desert.’ ‘he 
largest specimen he saw was sc embosomed in common 
trees and shrubs that he could hardly approach it; wild 
vines and other climbing shrubs, in complete health, 
adhered to it, and ascended half the height of its stem. 
While he was collecting its sap he observed several young 
trees that had sprung up spontaneously ‘from seeds 
a by the parent plant. 

r. Horsfield also describes the preparation of the 
poison, as the process was performed for him by an old 
Javan, who was famed for his skill in the art. The 
poison thus made secenis to affect quadrnpeds with nearly 
equal force, proportionate in some degree to their size 
aud disposition. It is fatal to dogs in an hour, to mice 
in tei minutes, to monkeys in seven, to cats in fifteen 
minutes, while a poor buffalo subjected to the experi- 
ment was two hours and ten minutes in dying. 

Rumphius, the naturalist, saw the effects of the poison 
on human beings, when, in 1650,the Dutch in Amboyna 
were attacked by the Macassars, who used arrows dipped 
in this or some very similar preparation. “The poison,” 
says he, “touching the warm blood, is instantly carried 
through the whole body, so that it may be felt in all the 
veins, and causes an excessive burning, particularly in 
the head, which is followed by sickness and death*.” 
After it had thus proved fatal to many Dutch soldiers, 
who trembled at its name, and no doubt were the first to 
exaggerate the horrors of the tree that produced it, they 
discovered an alinost infallible remedy in a root—the 


* Herbarium Amboiuense. 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


323 


radix toxicaria of. Rumphius—which, if timely applied 


counteracted by its violent eimetic effect the force of the 
poison. | 





THE DEAF TRAVELLER.—No. 9. 


CARAVANS :-—DEvrARTURE From Bacpap. 


I MENTIONED in my last paper that I had resided in 
Malta. Ou my return from thence in 1829, I went to 
Bagdad, by way of Petersburgh, Moscow, Astrakhan, 
Teflis, the capital of Georgia, Tabreez in Persia, and 
Sulimameh, in Lower Kourdistan. Bagdad, at which, 
after six months’ travel, we arrived, is perhaps of more 
interest to the genera! reader than most other Eastern 
cities, from its connexion with the Arabian tales, which 
most people have read at some time of their lives. I 
resided in that town through a most interesting period 
of its history; and, during my stay, made many obser- 
vations, which, however, it is not my present business to 
communicate. Gelore I left, I had also an opportunity 
of making an excursion down the river Tigris and back 
again, the details of which we must at present pass over. 
My journey back to England was by way of Kerman- 
shah, Hamadan, Tehraun, the metropolis of Persia, 
Tabreez, Iiarzeroum, and Trebizond, on the shores of the 
Black Sea, At all these places we made considerable’ 
pauses, particularly at the last, from which we went over 
the Black Sea to Constantinople, and after remaining 
there upwards of five weeks, proceeded to England .by 
water. Some details of this last journey, which occu- 
pied more than nine months, it is my present object to 
supply. 

Having made up our minds to leave Bagdad, we had 
notice, only a day and half before it started, of a caravan 
with which we might travel. During this short period 
we were distracted by continually conflicting reports as 
to the tine of departure. In fact, the clock-work re- 
gularity of travelling movements in England is quite 
unknown in Western Asia; nor, on account of the 
badness of the roads and numerous circumstances of in- 
terruption, would an approximation to such regularity 
be easily practicable, even were the men more exact in 
their appointments and arrangements than they are. 

By a caravan, we understand in England a kind of 
waggon, in which wild beasts are conveyed from fair to 
fair for exhibition. But in the East, a caravan is a 
large body of camels, horses, or mules, bearing mer- 
chandise from one place io another. For an opportu- 
nity of going with a caravan, travellers, whose business 
is not very urgent, have oftem to wait several months. 
Ihave known some wait for upwards of a year. But 
those who are in much haste, and can bear such a mode 
of travelling, may go with those public messengers, 
called Tartars, who make all possible expedition. But 
even opportunities of thus travelling are very uncertain, 
as are all things in the Inast relating to comfort and 
convenience. 

On account of the desert marauders, and the usually 
unsettled state of these countries, the opportunity of tra- 
velling with a caravan is generally eligible in the propor- 
tion of its size. It frequently consists of several hundred 
animals, with an uucertain and various company of 
muleteers, merchants, travellers, and, if may be, pil- 
grims ; all, or most of them, fiercely armed with guns. 
slung at their backs, sabres by their sides, and their 
virdles bristling with long daggers and pistols, All 
these warlike instruments will often be carried by one 
man, filling an Huropean with infinite compassion for 
the burdensome infliction beneath which he swelters in 
the broiling sun. But a man generally assumes import- 
ance in proportion to the number of weapons he carries ; 
and a very useful object is answered if an attack on the 
caravan is prevented by the warlike appearance of its 


members. 
2k 2 


324 


The motley assemblage that usually accompanies a 
caravan is variously mounted. ~The muleteers -and 
poorer pilgrims commonly walk, as_indeed the former 
generally must in order to whip on the cattle, and be 
ready to rectify any misadventures or disturbance of the 
balance in their:burdens. But sometimes there are a few 
spare asses-in the caravan, on which they treat them- 
selves with a ride when weary... The asses, however, 
creatly preferring to -browse along as independent 
members of the party, are often very hard to be caught 
when their services are required. : 

Some travellers, who join caravans, ride their own 
beasts; but this is not at all the most expedient course; 
and most people hire the beasts belonging to the mule- 
teers. In this case the traveller has no trouble about them. 
Moslems are certain to obtain the best horses the caravan 
can afford; the native Christians, if there be any of the 
party, are next considered; and Franks, if they have no 
servants to bluster for them and drub the muleteers, 
must be content with the refuse of the two former deno- 
minations, But in ordinary circumstances it little sig- 
nifies with what powers, besides that of supporting fa- 
tigue, one’s beast is endued, the pace of a caravan seldom 
averaging more, if so much as three miles an hour. It 
is of importance only in reference to the fear of attack 
and the prospects of escape; and these are always 
inatters of consideration. » ‘Phe mounted travellers 
may ,be-divided into three classes: those who ride 
saddie-horses, with servants in attendance; those who 
having but little baggage choose to ride upon it; and 
those who join the party on their own donkeys, which 
they sometimes relieve by walking, though many ride 
the little creatures continually through stages of thirty 
or more miles, for many suceessive days. Jt may be 
added, that im proceeding towards Bagdad through 
Persia one can seldom join a caravan, or, In gomg 
from the saine place, meet one, in which are not a con- 
siderable number of dead bodies in the course of being 
taken to the holy places near Kerbela on the Euphrates, 
for intermeuit. 

The contradictory reports which we heard of the time 
when the caravan was to start, placed us in the unplea- 
sant situation of holding ourselves in readiness to depart 
at a moment's notice, without being certain that we 
should go for several days. At last, after [ had the pre- 
cediug night gone to rest in the persuasion that our stay 
would be considerably prolonged, I was awakened very 
early on the morning of September 18th, 1832, by the 
information thatthe muleteers were come with our horses. 
These were two, one for each traveller and his baggage. 
Thus summoned to depart, we took a hasty breakfast 
while the men disposed our baggage on the horses. 
My beast bore my saddle-bags thrown over a high pack- 
saddle. One bag contained a small portmanteau, and 
the other a carpet-bag, and another of biscuits and dates. 
Over this was spread one of those thick quilts which are 
used in the East both for beds and bed-covers, a blanket, 
and a pillow, forming altogether a saddle for me by day, 
and a bed by night. ‘These articles, with a leathern 
water-bottle dangling at the left saddle-bae, to which it 
was attached by a hook, formed the sum of the effects I 
intended for use during the lone and arduous journey 
before us. And all was not so intended, for my port- 
manteau was filled chiefly with papers, which I supposed 
1 micht need sooner after my arrival in England than I 
should be able to receive them by way of Bombay. We 
then equipped ourselves in our oriental dresses. This, 
In my case, consisted of a Persian black cap. (kudlah) of 
Khorassan lambskin, a ‘Turkish gown (zaboon), an 
Arabian black cloak (abba), and the necessary appendage 
of mustaches. Thus attired, we threw our legs widely 


astraddle over the heap of bed and bageagee, and bade 
farewell to the city of the Caliphs. 





THE PENNY/MAGAZINE. 


[Avausr 24, 


AN ENTERTAINMENT IN BORNEO. ? 


ALL at once we were ushered into a splendid room, sevent 
or eighty feet square, brilhantly lighted and notill-furnished, 
but strongly contrasted with the darkness and dirtiness of 
the suite we had passed throughe * * *  *#* 
_In the centre of this gorgeous room, on a part of the floor 
raised to about a foot and a half above the level of the rest, 
and laid with a rich Turkey carpet, stood a long table, at 
the top of which the sultan placed the admiral, and then 
made the signal for tea. Virst entered an attendant, beanng 
a large tray, on which were ranged several dozens of ex- 
ceedingly small cups. These he placed on the carpet, and 
then squatted himself down, cross-legged, besice it. Another 
attendant soon followed bearing the tea-pot, and he likewise 
popped himself down. After a conjuration of some minutes 
the cups were brought round, containing weak black tea, 
exquisite in flavour, but marvellously small in quantity. 
There appeared no milk, but plenty of sugar-candy. Some 
swect sherbet was next handed round, very slightly acid, 
but so deliciously cool, that we appealed frequently to the 
vase or huge jar from which it was poured, to the ereat 
delight of the sultan, who assured us tlrat this was tue 


genuine sherbet described by the Persian poets. It was 
nuxed, he told us, by a true believer, who had made more 


than one pilgrimage to Mecca. * *k “8 * 
‘es 


The sultan appeared to enter into his guest's character 
at once, and neither overloaded him with attentions, nor 
failed to treat -lim as a person to whom much respect was 
due. I heard Sir Samuel (Hood) say afterwards, that he 
was particularly struck with the sultan’s good-breeding, in 
not offering to assist him in cutting is meat. The sultan 
merely remarked that few people were so expert as his 
guest even with both hands; adding, neatly enough, that 
on this account the distmetion which his wound had gained 
for him was more cheaply purchased than people supposed. 
While the admiral was hunting for some reply to-this novel 
comphment, his host remarked, that in Borneo it was con- 
sidered fashionable to eat with the left hand. 

The supper, which soon followed the tea, consisted ef 
about a dozen dishes of curry, all different from one another, 
and a whole poultry yard of grilled and boiled chickens, 
may different sorts of salt fish, with great basins of rice at 
intervals, jars of pickles, piles of shceed pine-apple, sweet- 
meats, and cakes. Jfour male attendants stood by with 
goblets of cool sherbet, from which, ever and anon, they 
replenished our glasses ; besides whom, a number of young 
Malay girls waited at a distance from the table, and ran 
about nimbly with the plates and dishes. 

All the persons who approached the sultan fell on their 
knees, and haying jomed their hands in the act of supplica- 
tion, lowered their foreheads til! they actually touched the 
ground. ‘The sultan held out his hand, which the people 
eagerly embraced in theirs, and pressed to their lips. What 
they had to say was then spoken, and after again bending 
their foreheads to the ground, they retired. This ceremonial 
took place only in the outer room or hall of audience, for no 
one, except the strangers and one or two of the principal 
officers of state, was permitted to approach nearer than 
twenty or thirty fect of the raised part of the floor where we 
sat. At that distance, a group of about twenty persons, 
probably the nobles of the court, sat cross-legged on the 
ground in a semicircle facing the sultan, and in profound 
silence during the whole supper, no part of which appeared 
to fall to their share. 

Soon afterwards the cloth was removed, and a beautiful 
scarlet covering, of the texture of a shawl, substituted in its 
place. This might, perhaps, give us a hint for after dinner. 
Instead of dull mahogany or dazzling white, why might we 
not spread over the table a cloth coulemr de rose for the 
benefit of the complexions of the company ?2—Jragments of 
Voyages and Travels, by Captain Bastl Hall. Third 
Series, vol. i. % 





Men of Business—Some decide sagaciously enough on 
what ought ultimately to be done, but blunder most eeregi- 
ously as to the means and method of accomplishing the 
object they have in view; others have not suflicient powers — 
of mind to foresee the result of any measure, yet will imme- 
diately hit upon the means of carrying it into effeet, good or 
bad. The last generally ruin themselves by a superftuous 
activity ; the first dream and stagnate. The possession of 
both qualities constitutes the complete man of business,— 
Notes on Vartous Sciences, , 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


325 


WEAVING IN CEYLON. 


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[Process of Weaving by the Cingalese.] 


One of the most curions subjects for reflection is sup- 
plied by a comparison of the arts of nations of high an- 
tiquity, and of those whose civilization is of a more recent 
date. ‘The varions manufactures, for instance, of the 
Chinese and Hindoos are, as far as they demand manual 
skill and patience, equal, if not superior, to those of Euro- 
peans. But then, on the other hand, they appear incapable 
of improvement ;—and not being assisted by machinery 
they are conducted with an expenditure of labour, that, 
if attempted amongst ourselves in the same way, would 
either compel the labourers to comparative starvation, or 
put the commonest article manufactured beyond the 
reach of any but the richer consumers. <A yard of cotton 
cloth may now be bought in England for sixpence ; but 
what would it cost if it were to be produced in the man- 
ner of the weavers of the East? ‘The following narrative, 
describing weaving as now carried on in Ceylon, has 
been communicated to us by a gentleman who resided 
there :— 

“On the 5th of January, 1821, two Kandyan weavers 
came to the general hospital with all their implements for 
weaving, for Mr, Marshall’s and my inspection. Ishowed 
them into a kind of open shed, with which they seemed 
pleased, and here they established their manufactory. 
hey commenced their operations by driving four rude 
posts into the ground, left them about thirteen inches high; 
the one, as it turned out afterwards, for the support of the 
breast-beam, which was square ; and the other supported 
a flat board for the purpose of raising the web a little 
behind the headles. ‘The breast-beam had a groove cut 
into it for the purpose of fixing the end of the web in, 
but by filling it with water, it answered as a level. 
Their mode of levelling the two beams with each other, 
was by placing a slip of the rind of a plantain tree upon 
them, aud, pouring water upon the centre, any inclination 
was ascertained with great accuracy. Between the four 


posts a hole was now dug, a little more than knee deep, 


in which the weaver was to put his feet when working, 
sitting upon the edge of the hole. 

‘Nothing could be more rude or simple than the dif- 
ferent articles used: and some idea may be formed of 
them, when I state, that the loom, including everything 
employed in weaving, is purchased for something less 
than half-a-crown. The warp had been previously put 
into the headles and reed. No beam for the warn is 
used, but the whole reached within a few inches of the 
ground at once. From the extremity of the web a cord 
is extended round several stakes driven into the ground, 
and at last is fixed by a sailor’s knot (the clove hitch) to 
a post close to the weaver, who, by slacking off a little 
as occasion requires, by degrees draws the unwoven part 
of the web towards hiinself,—several rods (lease wands) 
are run through the warp for the purpose of steadyiue 
the threads and preserving the shade or lease, and are 
drawn out as the web advances. ‘The headles had only 
two leaves instead of treadles; two cords descended into 
the hole with a piece of lead attached to each; and this 
was taken between the two first toes, and so worked. 
The lay is suspended by two coarse cords. It consists 
of two pieces of board with a groove in each for the 
reception of the reed, which is retained by a cord at each 
end, The shuttle resembles that used in Britain in 
weaving woollen. At seven o'clock, a.m., the loom 
was tied up, and at nine, A.m., he was weaving with 
oreat rapidity. ‘The warp was very coarse but 
revular, and had been dressed before he came. Rice 
boiled in water is the substance used for this purpose, 
and it is applied to the yarn by means of a bit of rag. 
I detained the operator for several hours in taking 
sketches, yet he finished his work by 2 p.m. It 
might be three yards long, and the weaving cost nearly 
sixpence. ‘he weaver seemed to possess a large share 
of vanity, and was much pleased to show that he could 
weave with his eyes shut. The weavers are of a very 


826 


low cast. On going in he used to fall flat, and there 
seep knocking his head upon the ground. - | 

‘¢ Another important personage remains to be men- 
tioned: his duties were that of pirn-winder and as- 
sistant. He was a much younger man than the prin- 
cipal. His implements were, if possible, more rude 
than those already mentioned. The woof was brought 
in a leaf, aud was wringing wet with thick congi-water 
(fluid paste). It was done in hanks or skeins of about 
eight inches in diameter. The machine, corresponding 
with the swifts, was formed by splitting a bamboo into 
six portions within three inches of one end; these splits 
were kept asunder, at the lower end, by means of a 
hoop. ‘The bamboo was twenty inches in length. A 
thin rod was driven into the ground, and the bamboo 
rested upon and revolved round it. 

‘The winder kept five or six pirns only a-head of the 
weaver, but whenever a thread of the web broke it was 
his duty to get up and tie it ; and, indeed, he had to do 
everything out of the reach of the weaver, who could not 
eet out of his hole, without unshipping the breast bone. 
‘Thus they went on very sociably together, always work- 
ing, chewing betel, and conversing. 

‘*T «.nderstand their manner of warping is performed 
by fixing sticks in the ground at certain distances, and 
leading the yard round them, which had been put upon 
the split bamboo, as in filling the pirns and centre stick 
held in the hand. ‘he yarn is spun by women with 
the distath”’ 





{Shuttle used by the Cingalese.] 


DOMESTIC SERVANTS. 


Domestic servants, especially females, form so large 
a class of society, andthe welfare of the community is so 
mixed up with their own good conduct, as well as with 
the just behaviour of their employers, that we may oc- 
casionally offer a few observations that appear to us de- 
sirable to be borne in mind by each party to the contract. 
We will first address ourselves to maid-servants and 
their employers. 

Let a young female when she first enters into service 
strive as much as possible to conform to her situation 
in life, instead of seeking with restless eagerness to 
raise herself above it. By the practice of undeviating 
rectitude, let her convince her employers that she is 
worthy of confidence. Let her keep a strict watch over 
her own temper, and’ not be too impatient of present 
inconvenience, or anxious to change her employer, lest 
she should only thus, in avoiding a lesser, have to endure 
a greater ill. Let her occupy herself diligently in her 
allotted labours, instead of seeking pleasures adverse 
to their fulfilment. Let her be anxious to do her 
duty strictly, though not servilely, cheerfully submitting 
to minor annoyances, and bearing with the temper and 
even caprices of her employer, not with sycophancy but 
with patience. . 

That a servant so disposed will find many who will 
properly estimate her worth there can be no doubt; but 
the number of those employers who indulge unreason- 
able expectations is, we fear, considerable, and we may 
therefore not improperly add a few words upon the right 
way Of attaching good and faithful domestics. 

~ In the‘formation of every contract the practice of the 
higher virtues of honesty and truth are essential between 
the contracting parties. But there is another class of 
virtues scarcely less important in all our social relations 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


[Auaust 24, 


of life, and which is sometimes supposed to be beneath 
the observance of those who are most conspicuous for 
the possession of qualities which ennoble and do honour 
to the human race. These great attributes, however, 
can only be exerted on great occasions; while the con- 
stant exercise of the softer virtues sheds a charm over 
the business of every-day life, and constitutes the hap- 
piness of our intercourse with each other. 

In no relative situations is this disposition more re- 
quired than between the employed and the employer, 
and yet in no situations, perhaps, are they in general so 
little understood and practised. Consideration for the 
feelings and comforts of others, which includes forbear- 
ance, good temper, and all the amiable characteristics 
of our nature, should actuate us as much in this as in 
any other relation of life. It is too frequently supposed 
that the acts of regularly paying domestics their wages, 
and of supplying them with a sufficiency of food, are the 
only duties incurred in return for the services conferred 
upon the employers. Much more, however, is requisite 
from one social being to another. 

The contract entered into is for a mutual benefit, and 
the comfort of each party depends very much on the 
manner of its fulfilment. It is the duty of an employer 
to minister to the happiness of those who serve him, and 
who could do much better without his assistance than 
he without theirs. By his example, as well as by his 
exertions, he should keep them in the path of right as 
far as in him lies; watch over their conduct; and above 
all things beware not to require of them any service 
inimical to the strictest rules of morality. .The employer 
should desire to obtain the maximum of happmess rather 
than of labour for his money, while at the same time he 
should not permit the employed to use any improper 
means by which to spare their labour, and thus obtain 
undue profits for their exertions. Domestic servants 
should, if possible, be so treated as to be made to feel 
themselves part of the family. 

A culpable carelessness to the transgressions of tht 
employed class, as members of society, is usually com- 
bined with undue severity for their faults as servants. 
Now the reverse of this should be the case: while in- 
flexible as to their general good conduct, omissions in 


‘their household duties should be looked upon with a 


more lenient eye ;—allowauces should be made for defi-. 
cielicles which, if the situations were reversed, might 
perhaps be still greater. 
We should strike the balance, and if the more intrinsic 
ment remain—if those duties most required are well 
performed——employers would do wisely, for their own 
comfort as well as for that of the employed, not to exact a 
too rigid execution of every service which they think pro- 
per to define as forming the business of their domestics. 


THE BATTLE OF CRE&SSY. 


Tur battle of Cressy was fonght on Saturday the 
26th of August, 1346. The English king, Ed- 
ward IITI., in prosecution of his unfounded claim to the 
crown of France, had set out from the port of South- 
ampton for the invasion of that country with a fleet of a 
thousand sail, in which he had embarked an army of 
tlirty thousand men. Ele was accompanied by the 
flower of his nobility, and likewise by his eldest son 
Edward Prince of Wales, afterwards famous under the 
naine of the Black Prince. The prince had just then 
completed lis sixteenth year. 

‘Lhe invading: force was disembarked in safety at La 
Hogue, in Normandy, on the 12th of July. ‘The fury 
of the soldiery was first let loose upon tlie town of Caen, 
where the barbarities of a licentious army were pro- 
voked by the feeble opposition of the inhabitants. IJid 
ward then proceeded along the south bank of the Seine, 
uot being able to get across that river, as he wished to 


1833.] 


do, in consequence of all the bridges being broken down. 
But every village and corn-field that he encountered in 
his progress he laid waste with pitiless ferocity. Mean- 
while, however, the forces of the French king were 
advancing from all quarters to the scene of these out- 
rageous proceedings. Unless he could make his escape 
to the north, Edward saw that his destruction was cer- 
tain. In these perilous circumstances he had recourse 
to stratagem. Having come to the bridge of Poissy near 
Paris, which like the rest had been rendered useless, he 
suddenly ordered his army to march forward, when he 
was, as usual, after a short delay, followed in the same 
direction by a party of the enemy which occupied the 
opposite bank. He then returned by a rapid march to 
Poissy, and got over his army without interruption. 
He had still, however, another river, the Somme, to 
cross, befere he could reach Flanders; and the enemy, 
amounting to a hundred thousand men, and com- 
manded by the king, Philip VI., in person, was so 
near upon him, that if he could not accomplish his 
passage within a few honrs, he ran the rick of being 
driven before them into the river. He resolved therefore 
to make the attempt at all hazards. A peasant having 
been induced by the offer of a reward to discover a 
place at which the river might be forded at low water, 
Edward, taking his sword in his hand, plunged in° his 
army followed their gallant leader; and although they 
were inet when they reached the opposite shore by Gode- 
mar de Faye, at the head of a body of twelve thousand 
men, they quickly made good their landing, drove back 
the enemy, and pursued them for some distance over the 
adjacent plain. ‘The bold achievement had been effected 
just in time. While the rear of Edward’s army was yet 
in the water, the vanguard of that led by Philip reached 
the bank they had left. Deterred, however, by the 
rising tide, the French king declined pursuing his enemy 
across the ford. 

Still Edward had not escaped the necessity of fighting 
the immensely superior force which was thus bearing 


down upon him. Accordingly, having spent the mght in | 


surrounding his position with trenches, he, the next morn- 
ing, drew up his armyin three divisions on a gentle 
ascent near the village of Cressy, opposite to which he 
had crossed the river. The command of the foremost 
division he committed to his son, the Prince of Wales, 
wiving him for his counsellors, in this his first essay of 
arms, the Earl of Warwick and Lord Jolin Chandos. 
The second division was given in charge to the Earls of 
Arundel and Northampton; and Edward himself, at 
the head of the third, which consisted of twelve thousand 
men, took his station on an adjacent hill, from a wind- 
mill on the summit of which he viewed the fight. ‘The 
carriages and horses were placed in a wood behind the 
troops. 

Part of the morning had been spent by Edward in 
riding alone the ranks of his army, and addressing to 
them such exhortations as were most proper to call up 
in the breast of every man the courage and firmness 
which the vccasion demanded. The whole body then, 
after taking a slight repast, laid themselves down on 
the grass, and awaited.the enemy’s approach. ‘This 
was about nine o'clock. 

It was three in the afternoon before the more unwieldy 
mass, led by the French king, had all advanced and 
been arranged in order to engage. The attack was 
commenced by a body of fifteen thousand Genoese 
crossbow-men. But a shower which fell a few moments 
before having wetted the strings of their bows, their volley 
fell short of its aim, and produced no effect. The Eng- 
lish archers, whose weapons had been protected from 
the rain, immediately poured in upon them in return a 
shower of arrows, which told so well as to throw the 
whole body of the Italians into confusion. Struck with 
sudden panic, they wheeled round, and rushed back 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


327 


among the ranks behind them. ‘This first blow decided 
the fortune of the day. The remainder of the affair 
was a rout rather than a battle. The Genoese were 
trodden under foot and cut to pieces, principally by 
the I*rench themselves, who were beset and pressed 
upon: as much by tliese, their alhes, as they were by 
their English enemies. At length, however, one of the 
divisions of King Philip’s army, commanded by the 
gallant Earl of Alencon, having got clear of this tumult, 
attacked the Prince of Wales with great fury. This 
assault was repelled, but was immediately followed by 
auother directed against the same point by three fresh 
squadrons of French and Germans. On this the Ear] 
of Warwick dispatched a messenger to King Edward, 


begging him to come up with the reserve to the assist- 


ance of his son. ‘‘ Is the prince dead or wounded, or 
felled to the ground?” inquired Edward; and being 
told that he was still alive, ‘‘ No,” said he, ‘* the glory 
of this day shall be his own, as he deserves it should; 
while he lives [ shall not interfere.” Edward judged 
aright how the battle wes going. In afew minutes the 
enemy were again driven back. ‘The prince now in 
turn advanced with his men. [t was in vain that the 
Freiuch king rushed to meet them in person at the head 
of a column of his best troops. ‘The torrent of English 
archers and men-at-arms hore down all before them ; 
and that day no further resistance was attempted by the 
scattered and flying host: 

When the nieht came, and the field had thus been 
cleared, Edward wisely forbade his soldiers to continue 
the pursuit. ‘The father and the son now met and 
embraced each other, their hearts exulting with joy and 
thankfulness, ‘‘ God give you grace, my dear son,” 
said Edward, ‘to persevere in the course you have 
begun ;—you have acquitted yourself nobly, and deserve 
the imperial crown for which we have fought!’ ‘he 
more considerate youth only bowed almost to the 
sround, and said nothing. With all his fire and daring 
in battle, he had none of the arrogance and presnmption 
of his father’s temper; and, throughout his life, never 
showed himself inclined to take merit to himself, or to 
trample on either the rights or the feelings of others. 

Early in the next morning many thousands more of 
the enemy were slain by a body of horsemen whom 
Edward sent forth to scour the surrounding country. 
It is said that altogether thirty thousand French fell 
in this memorable carnage, among whoin were the two 
kines of Bohemia and Majorca, the Duke of Lorraine, 
the nephew of the French king, three other sovereign 
nrinces, many of the chief nobility of France, twenty- 
four baronets, twelve hundred knights, fifteen hundred 
rentlemen, and four thousand esquires. Philip himself, 
after having been-twice wounded, and having had his 
horse killed under him, with difficulty made his escape. 
The English lost only three knights and one esquire, 
with a very inconsiderable number of common soldiers. 
“Tt is evident,’ says Arthur Collins, in his Life of 
the Black Prince, “from the history of the baronage of 
England, that not one of the English nobility fell that 
day, though most of them accompanied their king to the 
battle, as appears from the same authority.” We may 
add that, according to one author, the Iinetish at the 
battle of Cressy made use of cannons, which were first 
employed on.that occasion; but tlus circumstance is not 
mentioned by those contemporary writers who have 
given the most minute accounts of the action, and, for 
various reasons, seems rather improbable. 

This great fight was followed by some iminediate, but 
by no permanent results. Neither the triumphs of 
Cressy and Poictiers, nor that of Agincourt, many years 
after, sufficed to establish the English dominion in France. 
Fortunately both for France and Kingland, the equally 
wonderful successes of the Maid of Orleans swept away, 
in a few months, all that had been effected in promotion 


328 


of this insane and unjustifiable project by the victories 
of a century. 

Edward the Black Prince died, in 1376, at the age of 
forty-six years. He was buried in Canterbury Cathe- 
dral; and his monument, of which the following wood- 
cut is a representation, is still very perfect. 

“ Over the tomb is a wooden canopy, carved and 
painted. On the underside of which is painted a repre- 
sentation of God the Father sustaining before him the 
Son on the Cross; at the angles are the symbols of the 
four Evangelists. The heads of the two principal per- 
sonages have been effaced. 

«he military accoutrements of the Black Prince, 
which are suspended by an iron rod above the tomb, are 
exceedingly curious : they are, perhaps, the most ancient 
remains of the kind existing, and, as och: be expected, 


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LITRE SA A 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


A Us h les i Tak 


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[Auausr 24, 18383. 


convey information on points, which, but for such evi- 
dence, can be gained but by inference. The shield, 
fastened to the column at the head of the tomb, is of 
wood, entirely covered with leather, wrought in such 
a manner, that the fleurs-de-lis and lions stand forth with 
a boldness of relief and finish, that when we consider the 
material employed, is truly wonderful ; at the same time 
possessing, even to this day, a nature so firm and tough 
that it must have been an excellent substitute for i 
This is beyond doubt the celebrated ‘ Cuirboulli’ s 
often spoken of by writers of the time: the surcoat, til 
closely examined, gives but little idea of its original 
splendour, as the whole is now in colour a dusky brown: 
it has short sleeves, and is made to lace t the centre of 
the back *,” | 


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~ TMonfiment of Fdward ‘the Black Prince in Canterbury Cathedral. 7 


How to make Coffee-—Having g orven, in the Sixth Number 
of the Penny. Magazine, some ‘account of the method of 
preparing coffee’ for sale, we think it mght to subjoin the 
best way of preparing it for actual consumption. ' We shall 
first quote the directions of that excellent pr actical philoso- 
pher, the late Dr. Kitchiner, and: then mention a few points 
in which we venture, with due diffidence, to dissent from 
that great authority.. ‘“ Coffee, as used on the Continent, 
serves the double purpose of an agreeable tonic, and an 
exhilarating beverage, without the unpleasant effects of wine. 
Coffee, as drank in England, debilitates the stomach, and 
produces a slight nausea. In France and Italy it is made 
strong from the best coffee, and is poured out hot and tr ans- 
parent. In England it is usually made from bad coflee, 
served out tepid and muddy, and drowned in a deluge of 
water. To make coffee fit for use, you must employ the 
German filter,—pay at least four shillings the pound for it, 
—and take at least an ounce for two breakfast cups. No 
coffee will bear drinking with what is called milk in London. 
London people should either take their coffee pure, or put a 
couple of tea-spoonsful of cream to each cup. N.B.—The 
above is a contribution from an intelligent trav eller, who 
has passed some years on the Continent.” (The Cook's 
Oracle, fifth edition, pp. 391, 392.) The German filter 
(which we believe is now usually called a biggin) is cer- 
tainly not neeessary for making coffee; when made ina 
biggin it is lukewarm, nine times out of ten, from the time 
consumed in filtering. 


Our method is to boil itin a common | 


b 


pot; and. by standing a few minutes, it becomes as lear at) 
crystal. Not very near the fire, mind, lest the ebullition 
should continue. To add isinglass to refine it, is a super- 
fluous refinement of luxury. From the reduction of. duty, 
and other causes, the price of coffee has fallen most mate 
rially since our author wrote; the best colonial coffee is only 
two shillings and four pence per pound, and even the finest 
Mocha is only three shillings and sixpence. What is called 
milk in London is certainly - very poor stuff, yet when boiled 
makes’ a ‘passable addition to coffee—few like to, drink it 
black.’ Those to whom the difference in expense is not an 
object of importance, will also find that the aroma of good 
coffee is best preserved by using lump sugar, as the flavour 
of brown sugar interferes with it. The brown, however, is 
used by thousands i in this country, who are in tolerably easy 
circumstances. To attain absolute perfection, also, the coffee 
should be roasted (not burnt) the same day that the decoction 
is to be made from it. Coffee is undoubtedly a stimulus, 
though but a slight one, and “should therefore be avoided 
by those of a very irritable temperament: to the majority of 
drinkers, however, it is as harmless as it was to Fontenelle, 
who, when told that coffee was a slow poison, remarked that 
it was a very slow one indeed, as he had taken it every day 
for more than eighty years. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
_ AND 13, PALL. MALL EAST, 





Printed by Wiuntam Crowss, Duke Street, Lambeth.) 


THE PENNY MAGAZIN 





OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Avausr 31, 1833. 





THE CARRIAGES OF NAPLES. 








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TueE boisterous, gay-hearted people of Naples are almost 
as much addicted to driving about in any sort of vehicle 
that can carry them as they are to eating maccaroni. 
The stranger, on his arrival at their city, cannot but be 
surprised at the immense number of carriages that dash 
through the town in all directions, nor fail to»be puzzled 
in reconciling the extent of this luxury with the means of 
a ruined nobility, and a generally impoverished country. 

The fact, however, is, that almost every Neapolitan, 
who pretends to anything like the rank of a gentleman, 
considers some sort of equipage as an indispensable 
appendage, to support which he will miserably pinch 
himself in other points of domestic economy. Added 
to this, there are no taxes on carriages and_ horses ; 
the tradespeople and others, who will never walk when 
they can afford to pay for a ride, particularly on a holi- 
day, (and besides the Sundays there is some holiday or 
saint’s-day at least every fortnight, on an average,) 
contribute to the support of an’ amazing number of 
hackney coaches and cabriolets ; and the very poorest of 
the people are as passionately-fond of driving as their 
betters, and do contrive, by clubbing together, to indulge 
in that luxury on frequent occasions. It may thus be 


understood how Naples is more crowded with vehicles | 


than any other of the European capitals. 
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and state. of preservation. The richer or more tasteful 
classes drive carriages which would not disgrace our 
parks,¢and are, generally speaking, superior to any 
display of the sort made at Paris. The Neapolitans, 


‘indeed, with the exception of the Milanese, surpass all 


the Italians in coach-building and taste in ‘‘a turn out ;” 
and though you ‘certainly see some of the worst, you 
also see some of the best equipages in Italy at Naples. 
But what produces an amusing effect is, that you con- 
stantly see the extremes of good and bad at the same 
instant. Most of the stylish, and all the more common 
part of this complicated: machinery of communication, 
proceed along the streets at a violent pace ; and as these 
streets are all paved with large pieces of lava not always 
well joined together, and as the inferior and infinitely 
more numerous portion of the’ equipages rattle fearfully 
as they go, the clamour produced might be thought 
almost the perfection of noise, were it not so frequently 
drowned by the shouts of the motley drivers, and the 


bawling of their fures, and of the foot passengers. 


It would be doing an injustice to the Neapolitans not 
to mention that, though they set about it in a slovenly 
way, and generally use harness that would reduce our 


best ‘‘ whips” to despair, they drive both fearlessly and 
j 2U 


330 


well, and are very rarely the canse of any accident even 
in the crowded, confused, narrow streets of the capital. 
In former times there used to be grand displays of driving 
at the end of carnival’ and beginning of: Dent; aud 
many of the great families had numerous and excellent 
studs, and bred ‘horses of great spirit and beauty. 
Though these establishments for horses of pure blood 
are entirely broken up, the common breed of the kingdom 
is generally far from bad; while many parts of Calabria, 
and some districts of Apulia and Abruzzi, still furnish 
excellent animals. ‘The Neapolitan horse is small, but 
very compact and strong; his neck is short and bull- 
shaped, aud his head rather large; he is, in short, the 
prototype of the horse of the ancient bassi-relievt and 
other Roman sculptures found in the country. He can 
live on hard fare, and is capable of an immense deal of 
work; —he is frequently headstrong and vicious, but 
these defects are mainly attributable to harsh treatment, 
as, with proper, gentle usage, though always very 
spirited, he is generally found to be docile and good- 
natured. The Neapolitan cavalry, composed almost 
entirely of these small horses,—bred under the burning 
sun of the south of Italy,—withstood the rigours of the 
winter in the memorable Russian campaign better tnan 
almost all the others; and it is a curious fact, that 
during part of his retreat from Moscow, Napoleon owed 
his preservation to a body of three hundred Neapolitan 
horse, who were still mounted, and in a state to escort 
him, : 

Without paying attention to numerous minor varieties, 
the hack-vehicles of the Neapohtaus may be divided 
into four great classes :— 

Ist. The carozza d’ affjitto, or canestra, or carettella, 
which answers to our hackney-coach, but is generally a 
much more decent carriage, and not close, but open, 
with a head which can be raised or lowered. It is 
always drawn by two horses. ‘The decent class of citizens 
are its greatest customers; but on holydays it is fre- 
quently found cram-full of: washerwomen and porters. 

2nd. The corribolo, which answers to our hack-cab, but 
isa much lighter and more-elegant machine. A light 
body, capable of holding two -passengers, 1s suspended 
on springs; one tough little horse runs in the shafts, and 
tne driver sits on the shafts just before his fare. The 
body and wheels of the corribolo are always painted and 
varnished, as are also those of the canestra; the horse 
of the one, and the horses of the other are, moreover, 
generally put to with leathern harness. This little gig: is 
invariably driven with great rapidity, and is a pleasant 
enougli, but somewhnt perilous conveyance. The corri- 
bolo is in great request with the men of the middling 
classes; and, on holydays, with both men and: women 
of the poorer class. It is also a very great favourite 
with English midshipmen and sailors, who like to go 
fast. ‘he number of this species of vehicle is truly 
extraordinary, as is also the manner in which they dart 
about; and it was to the corriboli that. Alfieri more 
particularly referred (for the other kinds of chaises are 
not near so abundant) when, in describing Naples, he 
spoke of— i 

« All the gay gigs that flash like lightning there.” 


3rd. The Flower-pot Calesso.—This is. truly a Nea- 
politan machine, which can be compared to nothing we 
possess. The body, like a section of a large flower-pot, 
or inverted cone cut perpendicularly in two, and hol- 
lowed out, is fastened to the wooden axle-tree which has 
110 iron, but terminates in two wooden arms on which 
the wheels revolve. The horse is very loosely harnessed 
between the shafts; one, or by hard squeezing, two pas- 
sengers Occupy the seat, whose entire weight rests on the 
axle, and ouly the weight of the shaftson the horse; then 
the driver leaps upon a narrow foot-board behind his 


passengers, and grasping his reins and flourishing his: 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[August 3], 


1 - . * e e 
whip over their heads, sets off at speed, his weight acting 


-as on a lever, of which the axle-tree is the fulcrum, 


bringing down the hinder part of the vehicle, and making 
the shafts ascend at a very ambitious angle, their ex- 
treme points being ofteu higher than the horse’s head. 
Sometimes a second passenger will jump up behind, bunt 
care must be taken not to overload the driver’s end ef 
the lever without placing a counterbalance before, for in 
that case the belly-band, on which is all the pressure, 
would act unpleasantly on the horse, or even lift him off 
his feet. If, as frequently happens, a second horse is 
tied by the side of the other, outside the shafts, this 
flower-pot will travel at a tremendous rate, for the mu- 
chine itself, made entirely of wood, is very lieht, and the 
weight of the passengers and driver, if properly disposed, 
acts very slightly ou the shaft-horse, who, like the com- 
rade by his side, hus only to pull. 

When uew, this particular vehicle is frequently very 
smart, and even gaudy, the wooden body being painted 
with flowers and coarsely gilt, the shafts and wheels 
as dazzling as bright red, yellow, or green can make 
them, and even parts of the shaft-horse’s harness covered 
with gilding, very much like what is put on our gilt 
gsingerbread-nuts. Unfortunately, however, as the Nea- 
politans choose gaudy rather than lasting tints, and as 
their colours ure badly laid on, and the gilding most 
inartificially applied, their calessi soon look very shabby. 

4th. Il Calesso.—We are now come to the vehicle re- 
presented by the cut at the head of our article*. ‘This is 
decidedly the popular machine,—the carriage of the 
people. ‘Though not so stylish or so fast, it has a great 
advantage over the ‘“ flower-pot” and the ‘“ corribolo,” 
for it can carry many more passengers. With some in- 
eenuity and sacrifice of comfort a corribolo may be inade 
to carry four and the driver, and so indeed may a flower- 
pot; but the calesso has the capacity, on a pinch, of 
accommodating a round dozen. 

So far from being a rare, it is a common thing, to see 


a rickety machine of the sort thus heavily laden :—three 


men and women on the seat, and two or three more on 
their laps or at their feet at the bottom of the chaise, with 
some of their legs dangling out in front of the wheels ; 
three more hanging on behind; a boyor a-sturdy lazzarone 
seated on the shaits, and a couple of little children bestowed 
in a net fastened to the axle-tree and dangling between thic 
nether part of the calesso and the ground—these consti- 
tute the loading of the calesso. ‘To all of these must be 
added the driver. He either stauds up erect with the pas- 
sengers behind the vehicle, holding the reins and flour- 
ishing his whip over the heads of those who are seated 
within it, or, shortening the reins, places himself on tlie 
shafts close at the horse’s croup, and there drives away 
with his legs dependent from the shafts. The two 
oddest of all the odd circumstances attaching to this 
calesso are certainly the exhibition of so many legs dang- 
ling from it, and the net with the young ones beneath. 
Accidents, of course, occur now and then. he writer 
of this was going one morning on horseback from 
Castellamare to Pompeii, when he was stopped near 
a cantina or wine-house by the road's side, by hearing 
the most dreadful shrieks. As he approached the spot, - 
he saw » calesso turn and drive back at speed, and on 
cetting still nearer, saw a female peasant dressed in her 
gala clothes who was tearing her hair and beating her 
bosom in a fearful manner. What was the matter ? 
The calesso, crowded as usual on such occasions, was 
coing to a festa or fair at the town of Nocera de’ Pagani, 
aud on stopping at that wine-house to refresh, it was dis- 
covered that the net below with a little boy in it was 
missing, ‘The rope that held it had given way, and as 
* This very spirited representation is copied from a work con- 
sisting of “ Sketches in Naples and Rome, by M. Gail.” From 
re rm source we were enabled to give the Maccaroni Seller im 
0. 87% : 


1833.] 


the festive party. were probably (as is usual with them 
when exhilarated by riding) all singing at the tops of 
their voices, the cries of the child were never heard. 
The afflicted mother was sure the guaglionciello* was 
killed ; but presently a joyful shout was heard along the 
road, ind the calesso, returning in company with another 
vehicle of the same character and similarly loaded, 
brought back the little urchin, covered indeed, and 
almost choked with dust, but otherwise safe and sound. 

This calesso is generally drawn by two horses, one 
between the shafts and the other outside of them. These 
are harnessed in the rudest manner with ropes and 
string, scarcely an inch of leather being visible. ‘The 
ereat inconvenience attending travelling in it is, that the 
driver is apt to be obliged to stop and get down every 
quarter of an hour to splice a rope or to make all nght 
with a bit of twine. The capacious body of this calesso 
is all made of wood. It is generally furnished with a 
hood of untanned hide which can be brought over the 
heads of “the insides;” but it has no springs beneath, 
being merely slung on braces that are sometimes made of 
leather. The driver of a vehicle of this sort is almost 
invariably a fellow of loquacity and humour, and the 
best of all sources to go to for notions of the popular 
habits and feelings of the country. ‘This mainly arises 
from his considering it part of his duty to amuse his 
passengers. 

The true time to see these popular vehicles in all their 
glory is, of course, on some grand festival in the city of 
Naples. In the simple marriage contracts of the female 


peasantry, there are positive clauses inserted that their | 


husbands shall take them to such and such jesée in the 
course of the year. . Consequently, when Naples is the 
scene of the festival, in they come flocking from all parts, 
every family or set of friends that can afiord it driving 
away inacalesso. ‘These vehicles, when they have been 
any time in use, are still shabbier than the tarnished 
“ flower-pots ;” but ornamented as they are on some of 
the holidays with branches and boughs of trees, with 
flowers or with clustering nuts, and in all with the gay 
coloured dresses of their occupants, they look sufh- 
clently gay and pleasing. 


It has been mentioned that the Neapolitans like to | 


drive very fast, and to sing very loudly while they ride. 


It is, indeed, too much for the nerves of a sensitive per- | 


son to see on these occasions how canestre, corriboli, 
flower-pots, and calessi, gallop along over the hard slip- 
pery pavement of the streets, racing with each other, and 
to hear how their passengers contend in making the 
ereatest noise in bawling and singing, and beating tam- 
bourines, while their respective drivers at the same time 
crack their rude rope whips in concert. 

Naples, which has produced some of the finest com- 
posers in the world, has been called “the land of song ;” 
and such it is if the good taste and exquisite feeling for 


music of all classes above the very lowest be alone taken 


into account. But the popular taste is execrable. ‘T’he 
very worst street-ballad that was ever sung by a London 
beggar, or ground on an organ, is a delicious melody 
compared to the roaring, shrieking, and, at the same 
time, droning, whining notes of the lazzarone, or 
paesanot, whose favourite songs, executed in their 
favourite manner, would frighten a war-horse. 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—MARCO POLO.—No. 3. 
To convey the ‘future Queen of Persia, a fleet of ap- 
propriate’ magnificence was prepared :—it consisted of 
fourteen ships, each having fowr masts { dnd nine sails, 


* Neapolitan for the Italian “ ragazzino,” English “little boy.” 

? Peasant or countryman. | 

{ With reference to this passage, Mr. Barrow says, “ It is im- 
possible not to consider the notices given by this early traveller as 


curious, interesting, and valuable;. and as far as they regard the. 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| as at Ceylon. 


331 


and four or five of them crews of from two hundred and 
fifty to two hundred and sixty men each. The einperor 
furnished this fleet with stores and provisions for two 
years. At their audience of leave the Poli were further 
enriched by the generous Kublai “ with many rubies 
and other handsome jewels of great value.” 

This remarkable expedition sailed from the Peho, or 
the river of Peking, about the commencement of the year 
1291. It was three months in reaching Sumatra, and 
in a northern port of that island, near the western 
Straits of Malacca, it waited five months for the change 
of the monsoon which was to carry it across the bay of 
Bengal. On his way, thus far, Marco touched at many 
luteresting places, all of which he afterwards described. 
During the detention of the fleet at Sumatra he was 
entrusted with the command on shore of two thousand 
nen, there being probably only a few sailors left on 
board the ships to take care of them. He erected bar- 
ricades to secure the Chinese from attack, and shortly 
so far conciliated the wild natives of the island, that they 
brought regular supplies of provisions to the encamp- 
ment. The country was divided into eight parts, called 
kingdoms. As eager as ever for information, Marco 
visited six of these. ) 

When the fleet sailed from Sumatra it passed the 
Andaman islands, the inhabitants of which Marco de- 
scribes as being “ idolatrous—a most brutish and savage 
racc, having heads, eyes, and teeth resembling those of 
the canine species. ‘Their dispositions are cruel, and 
every person, not being of their own nation, whom they 
can lay their hands upon, they kill and eat.” Mr. R. H. 
Colebrook, who visited the islands in 1787, concluded 
that ‘° from their cruel and sanguinary disposition, great 
voracity, and cunning modes of lying in ambush, there 
is reason to suspect in attacking strangers they are fre- 
quently impelled by hunger; as they invariably put to 
death the unfortunate victims who fall into their hands*.” 

From the barbarous Andaman islands the fleet pro- 
ceeded to Ceylon, many of the particulars of whose 
inhabitants, customs and productions, Marco describes 
in a manner little differing from the narrative of Robert 
Knox, which we recently abridged. 

Leaving Ceylon, the fleet traversed the narrow strait 
which separates it from India, and again came to anchor 
at -the peninsula where Tinevelly and Madura are 
situated. Here Marco obtained a knowledge of the 
oreat pearl fishery, which is still carried on there as well 
He describes how the merchants formed 
themselves into different companies, how the fishers 
dived, and employed enchanters to keep off “a kind of 
large fish,”’ (the shark,) and mentions several particulars 
confirmed by the Count de Noé and other modern wniters, 
but quite new to Europe at the time the Venetian pub- 
lished his travels. 

From visiting the spots himself, or, from the descrip- 
tions of Eastern travellers, he collected information 
respecting Masulipatam, the diamond mines of Golconda, 
Cape Comorin, the pepper country, the pirate coast, or 
southern parts of Malabar, Guzzerat, Kambaia, Sumenat, 
and Makran. In speaking of these extensive countries 
he is very correct as long’as he draws on his own ob- 
servations, but he is far otherwise when he gives up his 
belief to the recitals of imaginative Orientals. This is 
particularly visible in Marco’s account of the diamond 
mines of Golconda, which have been in all ages a favourite 
theme of Eastern exaggeration and hyperbole. Here he 
will remind the reader of the adventures of Sinbad the 
Sailor in the “ Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.” He 





empire of China, they bear internal evidence ef their being gene- 
rally correct. He sailed from China in a fleet consisting of four- 
teen ships, each carrying four masts. ....... We observed many 
hundreds of a larger description, that are employed in foreign voy- 
ages, all carrying four masts.’—Travels in China. 

* Asiatic Researches, vol. iv. 


2U2 


332 


says, that in the diamond mountains, the waters, during: 


the rainy season, descend with fearful violence among 
the rocks and caverns; and that, when the waters have 
subsided, the Indians go in search of the diamonds to 
the beds of the rivers, where they find many. That he 
was told that in summer time, when the heat is ex- 
cessive, they ascend the mountains with great fatigue, 
and greater danger, for the mountains swarm with horrid 
serpents; that in the deep cavernous valleys near the 
summit, where the diamonds abound, many-eagles and 
storks, attracted thither by the snakes, their favourite 
food, build their nests; and that the diamond-hunters 
throw pieces of flesh into the caverns which the birds 
dart down after, and, recovering them, carry the meat 
to the tops of the rocks .— that the men then imme- 
diately climb up after the birds, drive them away, and, 
taking the pieces of meat out of the nests, frequently 
find diamonds that have stuck to them when thrown 
into the caverns. 

It has been ascertained that the inimitable Arabian 
Tales were written chiefly about the middle of the thir- 
teenth century, so that, as Mr. Marsden reasons, Marco 
Polo, on his return. homeward at the end of that cen- 
tury, might very well have picked up Sinbad’s story of 
the Valley of Diamonds; though as that gentleman 
afterwards shows, a similar story had been. current in 
the East long before the ‘‘ Arabian Niehts’ Entertain- 
ments’ were “known. 

On his way from the coast of Corda to Ormuz, 
m the Persian gulf, Marco describes the islands of 
Socotra, Madagascar, and Zenzibar; or the southern 
part of the peninsula of Africa; and gives slight sketches 
of Abyssinia, and of several cities on the Arabian | coast, 
avowedly on the authority of persons who conversed with 
him and shewed him maps of those countries and places. 
Speaking on this dubious authority, he has introduced in 
his description of Madagascar that monstrous bird the 
rukh, or roc—another fable of the Thousand and One 
Nights. With ereater truth he mentions the camelopard, 
and when ‘speaking of the African coast he correctly 
describes that interesting animal, whose existence was 
lone called in question. He says it is “a handsome 
beast. The body is well proportioned, the fore-lees lone 
and high, the hind-lees short, the neck very long, the 
head ‘small, and in its manners it is gentle. Its pre- 
vailing colour is light, with circular reddish spots.” 

After eighteen months’ navigation in the Indian seas, 
the Chinese fleet reached Ormuz, the place of their des- 
tination, which was in the territory of King Arghun, the 
destined husband ‘of the ‘Tartar princess, who had occa- 
sioned this (for the time) extraordinary voyave. ‘“ And 
here it may be proper to mention,” says Marco, “that 
between the day of their sailing and that of their arrival, 
they lost by death, of tlle crews of the vessels and others 
who were embarked, about sia hundred persons: and sf 
the three Persian ambassadors only one, whose name 
was Goza, survived the voyage; whilst of all the ladies 
and female attendants one only died *.” 

A dreadful calamity, however, awaited the princess, 
who had come all the way from China to Persia for a 
husband. This was nothing less than the death of that 
very husband. 

“ On landing,” says Marco, ‘ they were informed that 
King Arehun jing died some time before, and that the 
eovernment of the country was then administered, in 
behalf of his son, who was still a youth, by a person of 
the name of Ki-akato.” On communicating, by letter, 
with this regent, they were instructed to convey the 

* Mr, Marsden remarks that “ this mortality is no greater than 
might be expected in vessels crowded with men unaccustomed to 
voyages of such curation, and who had passed several months at 
an anchorage in the straits of Malacca; and although it should 
have amounted to one-third of their whole number, the proportion 


would not have exceeded what was suffered by Lord Anson, and 
other navigators of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.” 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


months.” 


fAuGusT 31 


widowed bride to Kasan, the son of Arghun and his 
successor to the throne, who was at the Porte Caspiz, 
or Caspian Straits, with an army of 60,000 men, to pre- 
vent an expected hostile irruption. The Poli made this 
journey, which must have been in itself of considerable 
danger or difficulty, and placed their imperial charge in 
the hands of the young prince. From the camp of 
Kasan the Poli went to the residence of the regent 
Ki-akato, ‘‘ because the road they were afterwards to 
take lay in that direction.” ‘“ ‘There, however,’ continues 
Marco, “ they reposed themselves for the space of nine 
When they resumed their journey homewards 
the regent furnished them with tablets or passports, 
like to those of the Grand Khan, and moreover ordered 
that in turbulent districts they should have an escort 
of 200 horse. 

After these long and perilous adventures, the Poli 
at length were fairly on their way home Marco 
says, ‘ “In the course of their journey (that ts, after 
they. had left the residence of the Persian regent, 
which appears to have been Tabriz) our travellers 
received: intellieence of the Grand Khan (Kublai) 
having depar ted this life, which entirely put an end to 
all prospect of their revisiting those regions. Pursuing, 
therefore, their intended route, they at leneth reached 
the city of Trebizond, whence they proceeded to Con- 
stantinople, then to Negropont, and finally to Venice, 
at which place, in the enjoyment of health and abundant 
riches, they safely arrived in the year 1295. On this 
occasion they offered up their thanks to God, who had 
now been pleased to relieve them from such great 
fatigues, after having preserved them from innumerable 
perils.” 


CATHEDRAL OF WINCHESTER. 

Tue oriein of the city of Winchester lies concealed in 
the farthest depths of our British antiquities. ‘Tradition, 
and the evidence of our oldest historical monuments, con- 
cur with the probability afforded by the situation of the 
place in making it out as having been one of the earliest 
settlements of the first inhabitants of the island. In this 
way it may: possibly have existed’ as a village in the 
woods for a thousand years before the Christian era. 
When the Romanus first landed in Britain, about half a 
century before the birth of Christ, the tract of country in 
which Winchester stands appears to have been peopled 
by a Belgic tribe, who had come over from the continent 
about two hundred years before. It is said that the 
British name of Winchester was then Caer Gwent, or 
the town of Gwent, which the Romans Latinized into 
Vinta, calling it commonly the Vinta of the Below. If 
it had been, as is commonly thought, the capital of 
England in the times of the Britons, it regained that 
distinction under the Saxons, on the union of the country 
under one sceptre in the beginning of the ninth century, 
by Eebert, king of Wessex, to whose original dominions 
it had belonged. From this time till the reign of Edward 
the Confessor, in the middle of the eleventh century, 
Winchester retained the dignity of chief city of the 
realm. Here Alfred and Canute principally resided and 
held their courts. Even after the erection of the abbey 
and palace of Westminster by the Confessor, and the 
attachment which he showed to that neighbourhood, had 
crowned the long-rismge importance of London, Win- 
chester continued “for a considerable period to dispute 
pre-eminence with its rival. During the reigns of the 
Conqueror and his two sons, in particular, if may be 
said to have still maintained an equality with London, 
It was not perhaps considered to have altogetlier lost its 
old metropolitan supremacy till the rei@n of Richard I, 
towards the close of the twelfth century. 

Reduced now to a town not containing, by the last 
census, quite ten thousand inhabitants, modern Win- 
chester derives its chief importance from the ancient and 


$ 


1833. ] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


333 


splendid ecclesiastical establishment of which it is the { of London und Durham, who stand next to the two 
seat. While the other bishops take rank according to | archbishops, and before all the rest of the episcopal 


the date of the consecration of each, the Bishop of bench. In point of opulence, 


Winchester holds permanently the 


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The foundation of this see, and also that of the 
Cathedral of Winchester, have been carried back so far 
as the middle of the second century after the birth 
of Christ, when, it is affirmed, the British King Lucius, 
having become a convert to the true religion, erected 
here the first Christian church on the site of the chief 
Pagan temple. ‘This legend, howevey, rests on too 
uncertain authority to be entitled to much regard. All 
that we really know of the ecclesiastical history of those 
times is, that Christianity was undoubtedly introduced 
into the island in the course of the first century; that 
the converts among the Roman settlers were some time 
after considerable for their numbers; and that it had 
been generally diffused among the British inhabitants 
prior to the Saxon invasion. It was not till after the 
commencement of the seventh century that the Saxon 
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The first of the former who was baptized 
was Kinegils, the great-great-grandson of Cerdic, the 
founder of the dynasty. His conversion, which took 
place about the year 635, and which was speedily fol- 
lowed by that of the ereater number of his subjects, is 
attributed to St. Birinus, who had been sent over to 
preach the Gospel from Italy by Pope Honorius, and is 
accounted the first Bishop of Winchester. Kinegils 
began the building of a cathedral, but his death, which 
took place soon after, prevented him from carrying: it 
much beyond the foundation. ‘The work, however, was 
continued by his son and successor Kenewalch, and 
brought to a conclusion in 648, when it was dedicated 
to the Holy Trinity and to the Apostles Peter and Paul. 

This edifice is described as having been of great ex- 
tent and magnificence; but any considerable building 
of stone, which is said to have been the material em- 


334 


ployed in the present instance, was calculated to excite 
admiration in that age. It stood, there can be no doubt, 
on the same spot which is occupied by the existing 
cathedral. In 871, however, in an attack made upon 


the city by the Danes, the sacred structure appears: 


to have been, if not entirely demolished, so terribly m- 
jured as to have been reduced to little better than a ruin. 
It is probable that 1t was repaired by the great Alfred, 
when, some years after, he regained the throne of his 
ancestors ; but in the middle of the next ceiitury we 
find the fabric to have fallen again into such complete 
decay, that the then bishop, St. Ethelwold, determined 
to pull it down, and rebuild it from the foundation. St. 
Ethelwold’s Cathedral was finished in the year 980. 

Much controversy has taken place among writers on 
the architectural antiquities of Winchester, as to whether 
any or how much of the building erected by St. Mthel- 
wold remains in the present cathedral. Some have 
conteuded that the entire church was rebuilt about a 
century after by Bishop Walkelyn, the prelate who was 
first appointed to the see after the Conquest; and cer- 
tain of the statements of the old ecclesiastical historians 
would seem to imply that this was the fact. It seems 
to be generally acknowledged, however, that the cha- 
racter of the architecture of part of the east end is nearly 
decisive in favour of its superior antiqnity to that of the 
rest of the church, and especially of the tower and those 
potions of the transepts and nave which are known to 
be the work of Walkelyn. Some have even contended, 
on evidence of a similar description, that parts of both 
the transepts and the nave must be considered to be of 
the age of Ethelwold. 

Lhe central tower, however, was undoubtedly buitlt 
by Bishop Walkelyn, whose repairs and additions, 
whatever was their extent, were regarded as so impor- 
taut, that, upon their completion in 1093, the church 
underwent a new dedication to St. Peter, St. Paul, and 
St. Swithin. After this, a portion of the east end was 
rebuilt towards the close of the eleventh century, by 
Gishop Godfrey de Lucy. But the most important 
improvements which were made on the original struc- 
ture were those which were commenced soon after the 
middle of the fourteenth century, by Bishop William de 
HKidyndon, and continued and completed by his illustrious 
successor the celebrated William de Wykeham, who 
held this see from 1366 to 1404, The latter prelate 
may be said to have rebuilt nearly the whole of tlie 
cathedral to the westward of the central tower; and to 
him in particular is to be attributed the construction of 
the great west front, which is by far the most magnifi- 
cent part cf the edifice as it now exists. Finally, in the 
early part of the sixteenth century, a considerable part 
of the church to the east of the central tower was re- 
stored by Bishop Richard Fox, another of the most 
distinguished prelates by whom this see was ever ©0- 
verned., 

‘She Cathedral of Winchester, it will be perceived 
from this sketch of its history, may be regarded as a 
nearly complete record and exemplification of all the 
successive changes in the Norman style of arcliutecture, 
from its rise, or at least its introduction into this 
country, im the eleventh, till its disappearance in the 
sixteenth century. The building is in the usual form of 
across; andis one of the largest of our cathedrals, its 
ength from east to west being five hundred and forty- 
live feet, and the breadth of the nave and aisles eighty- 
seven feet. The length of the transepts from north to 
south is one hundred and eighty-six feet; and the roof 
of the nave is seventy-six fect in height. With the ex- 
ception of the west front—which, with its noble win- 
dow, its buttresses and pinnacled turrets, and the 
canopied ‘Statue of Wykeham that crowns its pointed 
termination, has a grand and imposing effect—the 


exterior of the church has but little to recommend it,’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aususr 3], 


The extreme plainness of its architecture, its lone un- 
broken continuity of roof, and its short and squat tower, 
vive it altogether rather a homely and almost heavy 
air. Placed as it is, besides, in a low situation, were it 
not for its immense mass, it would scarcely have any- 
thing to distineuisa it from the undecorated buildings 
by which it is surrounded. ‘The interior, however, is 
such as amply to make up for this deficiency of outward 
display. The vast length of the vista formed by the 
nave and choir, with the splendid ceiling overhead,—the 
lines of columns and arches on each hand,—and the large 
and beautiful window that casts its light down from be- 
hind the choir, at the termination of the view,—all contri- 
bute to produce upon the spectator, as he enters from the 
oyeat western door, an overpowering impression of so- 
lemnity and magnificence. And when he proceeds to 
examine the obiects by which he is surrounded more in 
detail, he discovers everywhere a richness of ornament 
which it is impossible to look upon without adimniration. 
Not to speak of a profusion of modern monuments, 
there are placed in different parts of the church various 
ancient chantries and tombs, exhibiting’ some of the 
finest efforts of Gothic sculpture in the world. ‘The 
chantries, in particular, of William of Wykeham, of 
Bishop Fox, of Cardinal Beaufort and of Bishop Wayn- 
flete, are structures of the most superb description. Be- 
hind the altar also is a stone screen erected by Bishop 
Fox, a work of wonderful elaboration and beauty. ‘The 
altar is ornamented by West’s picture of the Rais- 
ing of Lazarus from the Dead, one of the most suc- 
cessful works of that master. Many venerable relics of 
antiquity are likewise here preserved, of which we 
cannot attempt a detailed notice. 


THE GRAIN WORMS—(Miobrio Tritici— 
(Concluded from No. 86.) — 7 
[We regret that the limits of our little work prevent us giving the 
~ communication of Mr. Bauer as fully as we could have wished. 
The details of his experiments are exceedingly curious and in- 
structive; but we can only afford space for their more important 
results. | 

Tue existence of this most extraordinary disease in wheat 
has been, comparatively speaking, but a very short time 
known; and it is only of a very recent date that it has 
attracted the notice of the practical agriculturist in this 
country. In July, 1807, I received, for the first time, 
some growing specimens of wheat-plants infected with 
this disease, from Kent, where it was said that the dis- 
ease had existed some years, aid, from its spreading, had 
attracted the notice of the farmers. They distinguish it 
by the odd names of Ear-Cockles, or Broton Purples, on 
account of the distorted shapes and dark-brown colour 
of the diseased wheat-grains, which bear some resem- 
blance to a weed generally growing in corn-fields, and 
vulgarly called Corn-Cockles, or Purples, the Agrostema 
Githago of Linneus. In Hampshire the disease is 
called Burnt Corn. 

From continued supplies of fresh specimens from 
Kent, I have been enabled to ascertain many important 
facts respecting the nature aud properties of the minute 
animals engendering this disease. ‘These experiments 
and results were so far satisfactory as to establish 11con- 
testably the fact, that the white fibrous substances within 
the cavities of the distorted grains consist of real orga- 
nized animals, endowed with the extraordinary property 
of having their power of motion suspended for a con- 
siderable length of time, and of having it again restored 
by the mere application of water. But how are these 
animals introduced into the cavities of the young ger- 
mens? and how are they propagated? ‘These were 
questions which I could not at first answer, and I consi- 
dered that these facts could only be ascertained by tracing 
the worms from the sowing of the seed-corn through 


the whole progvess of the vegetation of the plant, 


1823.] 


Being fully convinced that the worms or their eggs, 
like the seeds of the fungi of the pepper-brand and 


dusi-brand, must be absorbed by the germinating seed- | 


corn, and propelled by the circulating sap into the young 
germens, and reflecting that I had successfully inoculated 
the wheat-grains with the fungi, I determined to try the 
same experiment with these worms ; accordingly [I se- 
lected a sufficient number of sound wheat-grains, and 
extracting a small portion of the worms from the cavities 
of the infected grains, (which had been previously 
soaked in water about an hour,) and placing some in 
the grooves on the posterior sides of the sound grains, 
I left them for some days to get dry, and planted them 
in the ground on the 7th of October, 1807. At the 
same time I planted some sound wheat-erains in sepa- 
rate holes, about two inches deep, and in each hole two 
or three infected grains also. About the middle of 
November most of the seeds had come up, and from 
tiine to time I took some of these young plants for ex- 
amination, but did not perceive any effect of the inocu- 
lation till the 3rd of December, when, out of nine plants, 
five proved to be infected with live worms. In the first 
plant, after carefully splitting the young plant from the 
root upwards, I found in the then unorganized sub- 
stance, between the radicle and the plumula, three 
young worms very lively, but not much larger than 
those with which the seed-corn was inoculated; in 
another plant I found one full-sized worm, but no eges 
about it; in the third plant I found a still larger worm 
than the last, but in dividing the stem I had eut the 
worm in two, and it soon died; it seemed to be full of 
eves: in the other two plants I found some worms 
quite young, and some half grown; but on the other 
four plants the inoculation had no effect. The fact that, 
at such an early stage of the vegetation of these inocu- 
lated seed grains, such large worms were fonnd, con- 
firms my first supposition, that it requires several @ene- 
rations of these worms to introduce their eggs into the 
young germens; the large worms found in the sub- 
stance of the young stem were undoubtedly some of the 
original worms with which the seed-corn was inoculated, 
for they were on the point of laying their eggs in that 
stage, and these eggs, being again propelled by the 
rising sap a stage further, then come to maturity, and 
again lay their eggs, and thus progressively reach the 
elementary substance of the ear, where they are finally 
deposited in the then forming germens; the whole pro- 
eress probably requiring three or four such reproductions. 

(ir. Bauer then describes many subsequent examina- 
tions of infected plants, referring to the representations 
and descriptions given in No. 66. A detailed ecccunt 
of the nature and properties of these worms was laid 
before the Royal Society, read on the 5th of December, 
1822, and published in the “ Philosophical Transac- 
tions” of 1523, under the title of ‘* Microscopical Ob- 
servations ou the Suspension of the Muscular Motions 
of the Vibrio ‘Tritici.”’) 

My experiments, for resuscitating the grain-worms, 
I have repeated almost every succeeding year to this day, 
and always with the same success; but I find that the 
longer the specimens are kept dry, the grains require to 
lay in water a greater length of time before the warms 
will recover; and that, at every repetition of an ex- 
perunent, a smaller number of worms recover their 
motion, and that after the same specimens (the produce 
of the grains inoculated in 1807) had been kept dry six 
years and one month, the worms were all really dead ; 
this period is the longest which I have as yet ascertained 
that these worms can retain their reviviscent quality. 

That this disease is contagious, is sufficiently proved 
by the fact, that it can at pleasure be successfully inocu- 
lated on the soundest seed-corn. The infection, how- 


ever, 1s not so generally uor so readily communicated : 


as the diseases occasioned by the fungi of the smut-balls 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


335 


or dust-brand, a few infected ears of which are capable 
of contaminating and infecting the whole contents of a 
barn. Grains infected with these worms havirig no 
embryos, cannot vegetate and produce again diseased 
pains themselves, but can only communicate the in- 
fection by coming in contact with the germinating seed- 
corn in the soil, by the moisture of which the worms are 
revived and extricate themselves, which I have so often 
observed they do when kept some time in water, 
Steeping the seed-corn in lime-v,ater, in the same 
manner as advised for preventing the diseases occa- 
sioned by the fungi, is the most efficacious method of 
preventing the spreading of this disease. I have re- 
peated the experiment by inoculating, very strongly, 
sound wheat-grains with the worms, and afterwards 
steeping them in lime-water, and the infection was always 
prevented; I have also steeped some sound wheat-grains 
in lime-water, and after having kept them in a dry state 
for some days, I inoculated them strongly with the 
worms, but on examining the plants, not one instance of 
infection occurred. From these facts it is evident, that 
properly steeping the seed-corn in lime-water before sow- 
ing, 1S-a sure preventive of the disease occasioned by 
erain-worms, ¥. B. 





THE DEAF TRAVELLER—No. 3. 


Hear ov tHe Crimare—Tuinrsr. 


Tue first day’s journey from a great city in Europe 
seldom presents aught to the traveller to awaken the 
suspicion that more than an excursion of pleasure lies 
before him. In the East it is not so. Generally one 
comes upon a city with little previous intimation of its 
existence, and, on leaving it, soon enters on seenes as 
wild and rude as those of the wilderness. It was so 
with us. ‘The first day’s Journey was a type of many 
following days, and was not calculated to fill or minds 
with very sanguine expectations of enjoyment from the 
travel we then commenced. 

Our road lay over a parched and barren plain, with 
no cultivation except in tlle immediate vicinity of Bag- 
dad. Indeed, in this part of the country, cultivation is 
seldom found but in the near neighbourhood of towns 
and villares; nor perhaps could produce be raised 
beyond the vicinity of the rivers, now that the magnificent 
and extensive system of aquednets and canals is com- 
pletely ruined, which the kings reigning in Babylon and 
Susa seein to have created, and by whicli this territory 
was once watered and made amazinely fruitful *. For 


| there are several inonths—nearly half the year—in which 


not a drop of rain falls; and the climate is so intensely 
warm that, without some mode of irrigation, every green 
thing dries up as if it had been baked in an oven. Ini 
the inonth of July, at Bagdad, I have known the quick- 
silver in the thermometer stand in my cool room at 
102° of Fahrenheit, at 118 in the open shade, and at 
142° after a few minutes’ exposure to the sun. If it be 
asked how Europeans can at all live in so warm a‘piace, 
I will just mention, that they, in common with the more 
respectable natives, remain in cellars during the greater 
part of the day, and sleep at night on the flat roofs of 
their houses. ‘The dark and damp vaults are not parti- 
cularly agreeable to those who are accustomed to well- 
furnished rooms, with carpeted floors, and the cheerful 
light streaming in at the windows. 

Well, we rode over this burning plain, without so 
strong a consciousness of the blessings of sunshine as in 
England one is apt to entertain. I'soon felt that I was 
getting thirsty, and reposed with much coinplacency on 
the consideration that { had a bottle of water below me. 
The men also became thirsty, though better able from 
use to bear thirst than au European, One of them 
spied out ny bottle, and, without_asking my leave, caine 

* In a former excursion we were much interested by the ruins of 
the aqueducts and canals in Sitacene and Babylonia. 


336 


to help himself to a draught. 
tion, though I thought he might as well have consulted 
me in the matter.’ ‘The man, however, spurted out his 
first mouthful with great abhorrence ; and, on inquiry, 
I made the felicitous discovery, that the servant at Bag- 
dad, instead of filling it with pure water, had loaded it 
with red clay and water, with a far more than equal pro- 
portion of the former. The motion of the horse had 
well compounded the ingredients into mud, which even 
an Arab could not tolerate as drink, though the natives 
are by no means squeamish when thirsty. 

On inquiring when we should arrive at some water, 
I could learn of none nearer than the river Dialah, and 
many long hours must elapse before we could reach it. 
The men, more provident than we, had furnished them- 
selves with melons, and so intense was my longing for 
something: to moisten my mouth, that I could not con- 
trol my inclination to beg a piece from them. -Ish- 
mael, our own muleteer, though not in the best-of 
humours with us, readily gave me a slice; and_{ do not 
remember when melon ever seemed more delicious to_ ine. 

The Dialah flows in a deep bed, but we saw at last 
the palm trees which in some places adorn its banks. 
But on so level a plain the palms appeared more than 
three hours before we reached the -stream; and when 
we at last arrived, after a ride of eight hours in the 
scorching sun, I found all my little slall in horsemanship 
put into requisition to enable me to retain my seat wlule 
my sure-footed: beast found its way down the nearly 
perpendicular bank, and then to guide him through the 
rapid stream. He paused in the midst of the current 
to quench his thirst, regardless of mine. What ‘Tantalus 
felt I knew, when I sat with water all around me without 
the power of drinking. I was mounted too Iigh on my 
baggage to be able to stoop low enough to dip up a 
draught in the pewter cup I carried in the bosom of my 
wown ; and there was no one who cared to help me, the 
attention of each man being. engaged in getting himself 
or his beast across. - {| E | F 

When I reached the opposite bank, I saw no one near 
on foot to hand me up drink; and I was afraid to dis- 
mount, not knowing’ how I should be ‘able to ascend 
again, without assistance, to my elevated position. I, 
therefore, after pausing a few minutes to see if I could 
perceive any one who might help me, left the river with 
a heavy heart and a parched throat; disappointed in all 
the sanguine hopes with which I had for the preceding 
three hours been regarding the palms in the distance. 


I saw gardens and plantations before me, however ; and ‘ 


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THE PENNY 


I certainly had no objec 





MAGAZINE. [Auaust 31, 1833 


was happy in supposing that our resting-place was not 
far. off, knowing that I should there be able to drink my 
fill. But going on and on, without reaching the village, 
I began to suspect that the resting-place might yet be 
a good way off, and determined that, at all events, my 
thirst shouldbe appeased at the first pond, marsh, puddle, 
pool, or stream, I might fall in with. 

Soon after this determination, I saw a little nll stealing 
down the lane it made green, and eagerly threw myself 
off my horse. But having two objects of attention,—one 
to retain the bridle of my stubborn beast, and the other 
to obtain a draught,—I got entangled up to my knees 
in the deep ditch mud through which the little stream 
flowed, and also fell forward on my hands, begriming 
my front, and my sleeves up to the elbow. IJ drank cup 
after cup, laughing to scorn all that doctors tell about the 
evil of taking the cool beverage in such circumstances. 

To one who has never known that agony of thirst 
which a traveller in the Kast must often experience, the 
miseries of this day may seem light. But, if 1 may be 
allowed to judge from a tolerably ample experience of 
most of the miseries which flesh is heir to, I will venture 
to affirm, that there are few physical sufferings compa- 
rable to that of thirst in a hot climate, and no physical 
pleasure equal to its gratification. , In England few ex- 
perience thirst more strongly than to make the desire for 
drink an appetite—a strong inclination: in the East the 
same desire must often become quite a passion—a rage. 
As this was the firsé suffering of the kind in the present 


journey, I have been the more particular in speaking of 


it, that the reader may the better apprehend something 
of what the writer means by the general mention of thers¢ 
hereafter. I calculated that my leathern bottle being sea- 
soned, would preserve, me from this kind of suffering in 


future; but it was stolen the following night ; and when, 


afterwards, I bought another in Kermanshah, it very 


soon went the way of the former. . But, upon the whole, 


I think that during the earlier part of the journey I never 
suffered so much in the matter of thirst as in the first day, 
though I have often been much longer without water. 
This may be accounted for by our getting into more 
elevated regions, and among mountains, where the heat, 
though often great in the valleys, is much less than in 
the plain of Bagdad. - 

The following cut, which is taken from the “ Mena- 
eries,” vol. i, in some respects illustrates the ‘scene 
described above; with this difference, that the represen- 
tation here given applies to the Caravan of Commerce. 

[To be continued. ] 


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* * The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Printed by WiLtt1am CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


MWourthly Suppleniwrwt of 


THE PENN 





OF THE 





MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





OT. 





July Si to fiugust 31, 1833, 


THE BRITISH MUSEUM. 


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_voLuME of the Library of Entertaining Knowledge, | matchless edifices 


eniitled “The British Museum—Higin and. Phigaletan 
Marbles, vol. i,’ has just been published. © After a brief 


introduction, explanatory of the circumstances by which. 


these inestimable specimens of Grecian art were procured 
and finally lodged in: our museum as national property 
and models to refine our national taste, the volume. 
before us ‘goes on to sketch the topography of Athens 


and its neighbourhood, ‘whence these relics of genius’ 


were obtained. 

This sketch was necessary to work out the history of 
the marbles, and to connect those dissevered and too- 
often mutilated fraements now ranged .round the walls 


of a room in London, with their original site and con-. 


dition in the city of Minerva. Included in this chapter 
of topography, the Acropolis of Athens, an jusulated 
rock which was once literally covered with architecture 





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and statues ; Mount Hymettus, whose 


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‘Phalerum; the ancient walls of the city, and other 


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scenes and objects 
mind with great ideas,—these are ya 
on the authority of writers of classical antiquity, con- 
firmed by the observations of modern travellers. 
This chapter is appropriately followed by the history 
of Athens, as far as it is connected with the history 
of its public edifices and the purposes for which they 
were designed. It is, in fact, acondensed history of the 


fine arts of the Athenians, with a melancholy appendix 


aud sculpture; Mount Pentelicus, whose quarries of | of their decline and fall, atid the spoliations and destruc- 


excellent marble furnished the material for all those 
Vou, II, 


tions to which their works have been ow sub-= 
2 


338 


jected by Macedonians, Romans, Goths, the Christian 
Emperors of Constantinople, Turks and Venetians. To 
these details succeeds an account of the general plan 
and proportions of the temples of ancient Greece. 
This tends still further to connect the Elgin and 
Phigaleian marbles with the places of their original 
destination; and to impart to the reader’s mind the im- 
pression they must have made, when, perfect from 
the hands of the great artists that first produced them, 
they stood above or in the midst of graceful columns, 


forming an essential part of a magnificent whole, to | 


which they gave and from which they borrowed beauty. 

Chapter the fifth is devoted to the history of sculp- 
ture among the Greeks, from their first starting as 
humble imitators of the Egyptians or Etruscans, till, by 
effort after effort, and improvement slowly and labo- 
riously added to improvement, they finally came near to 
perfection just before the period of Phidias, who was 
destined to attain it. 

The next section is occupied by Phidias, his con- 
temporaries, and the era the most glorious for art that 
the world has ever known. 

‘“‘ Phidias,” says our author, “the great master of the 
art of statuary, was born at Athens in the seventy-third 
Olympiad, about four hundred and eighty-eight years 
before Christ. He was the son of Charmidas; and, 
as Pliny informs us, was at first a painter. Eladas the 
Argive, and Hippias, are said to have been his in- 
structors in the art of sculpture. 

‘Of the rudiments of his education we are unin- 
formed ; but Athens was, at this time, the great school 
of arts and letters: from Homer, whose poems he had 
deeply studied, he drew images of greatness, which he 
afterwards moulded in earthby materials with a kindred 
spirit ; and it is presumed that the discourses of contem- 
porary philosophers on mental and personal perfeetion, 
contributed in no slight degree to stamp his works with 
a character of sublimity. His mind was adorned with 
all the knowledge which could be useful to his profes- 
sion. Phidias was also skilled in history, poetry, fable, 
geometry, and the optics of that day ; and, whilst Pericles 
commanded the treasury of Athens and the allied states, 
had the means of giving full scope to the efforts of his 
genius. 

‘‘ In the art of making statues in bronze, both for the 
number and excellence of his works, Phidias was with- 
out a rival. In the production of ivory statues, also, he 
stood alone ; nor did he disdain to work in the meaner 
materials of wood and clay, or to execute articles of the 
smallest mechanism.* . . . . ‘This was the man to 
whom Pericles, in the day of his greatness, consigned 
the direction of the public works at Athens; and under 
whose choice of workmen the temple of the Parthenon 
was produced.’”” (From this very temple, the reader 
will remember that all those exquisite statues and firures 
in high and low relief, which are now called the Elgin 
marbles, were obtained.) 

' Among the most celebrated of the works which 
Phidias executed with his own hands, were, a statue of 
Minerva which adorned the interior of the Parthenon, 
another of Minerva which stood in the open air on the 
Acropolis of Athens, a statue of the goddess Nemesis, 
“made in derision, from the block of Parian marble 
which the Persians had brought thither to erect as a 
trophy of their expected victory at Marathon,” and a 
Statue of Jupiter, believed to have been nearly sixty 
Jeet hich, which was placed in the interior of the temple 
of the Altis, oy grove, In the neighbourhood of Olympiaf. 

“When a friend inquired of Phidias from what 

* As fish and flies. 
fish which Phidias had 
in three words—“ad@ 
and they will swim.” 


t See “Penny Magazine,” No, /S,an, 113, 


The Roman poet Martial, noticing some 
sculptured, commends their truth to nature 
¢ aquam, natabunt,”— give them water 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Avausr 8], 


pattern he had formed his Olympian Jupiter, he is said 
to have answered by repeating those lines of the first 
Lliad, in which the poet represents the majesty of the 
vod in the most sublime terms ; thereby signifying tha. 
the genius of Homer had inspired him with it. Those 
who beheld this statue are said to have been so struck 
with it as to have asked whether Jupiter had descended 
from heaven to show himself to Phidias, or whether 
Phidias had been carried thither to contemplate the 
god.” 

‘he seventh chapter of the volume includes a particu- 
lar description of the Parthenon. We have already men- 
tioned that the stately edifices on the Acropolis of Athens, 
as well as the sculptures, were formed of marble from the 
quarries of Mount Pentelicus. This marble, when dug, 
was white, and in the fine atmosphere of Attica it re- 
tained its purity of hue. Forty-six columns of this 
beautiful material, each six feet two inches in diameter, 
and thirty-four feet in height, composed the exterior of 
the Parthenon, which stood upon a pavement, to which 
there was an ascent of three steps. The total height of 
the temple above its platform was about sixty-five feet 
——its length was two hundred and twenty-eight feet, and 
rts breadth one hundred and two feet. Simplicity cha- 
racterized the construction of every part of this magni- 
ficent building, “ which,” says Colonel Leake, ‘‘ by its 


united excellences of materials, design, and decorations, — 


was the most perfect ever executed.” 

In Number 28 of the Penny Magazine, we have 
briefly alluded to the fate of the Parthenon in the course 
of the centuries that have elapsed since it was erected, 
and may now refer the reader to this section ef the work 
before us for an ample account of the sad vicissitudes it 
has undergone. 

A description of the sculptured Metopes which in very 
bold relief ornamented the frieze of the temple, and an 
explanation of their subject,—the combats of the Cen- 
taurs and Lapithe, with other analogous matter, are 
contained in the eigikth chapter. The ninth is devoted to 
the Panathenaic frieze. which, as an uninterrupted series 
of sculpture in low relief, occupied the upper part of the 
walls within the colonnade; the subject of those works 
was a sacred procession of all the Athenians, celebrated 
every fifth year in honour of Minerva, the guardian 
divinity of their city. 

In this and the preceding chapter, the most beautiful 
of these marbles, which are now in our Museum, are so 
represented and .arranged that the volume may serve as 
a guide to those visiting the collection. The tenth 
chapter treats of the sculptural pediments of the Parthie- 
non—a very lnportant part of the temple; and the 
eleventh, and last chapter of the volume, is occupied 
with an explanation of the allegories of those pediments, 
from the pen of R. Westmacott, Esq., a distinguished 
British sculptor. 

As embellishments, or rather as necessary parts, the 
volume contains a view of the Acropolis of Athens, an 
outline map of that city, a plan of the Acropolis, showing 
the precise situation of the Parthenon, &c., and nearly 
one hundred spirited engravings of the Elgin marbles 
themselves *. 

Though, from the nature of the subjects, the volume 
includes many points of erudition, these will be found 
treated in a manner alike intelligible to the scholar and 
to the man of plain education. Indeed, one of the prin- 
cipal aiins has been to render the classical objects essen- 
tially popular. ‘The time lias gone by when all matters 
of taste and antiquity were hedged in by conventional 
barriers, and pedantry locked up what ought to be open 
to all. 


“The view of the Acropolis, at the head of this article, is not the 
one given in the volume. 





1833.] 


DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE 

Mr. Loupon, who has deservedly attained a high 
reputation for his Encyclopedias of Agriculture, aud 
Gardening, has just completed an “ Encyclopedia of 
Cottage, Farm, and Villa Architecture.’ The work is 
published in twelve parts, at five shillings each. It com- 
prises between eleven and twelve hundred closely-printed 
pages, and is illustrated with more than two thousand 
wood-cuts and lithographic engravings. ‘The main object 
of this Encyclopedia is stated to be ‘‘ to improve the 
dwellings of the great mass of society, in the temperate 
regions of both hemispheres: a secondary object is to 
create and diffuse among mankind, generally, a taste for 
architectural comforts and beauties.” 

We consider the objects thus proposed to be attained 
as of the highest importance to the general welfare of 
the community. ‘The progress of civilization is in no 
respect more clearly indicated than by the character of 
the buildings in which the mass of any people reside. 
It is quite possible that the public edifices of a country 
-——its palaces and its theatres—may be erected in tlie 
purest taste, and with the highest magnificence ; and 
that the cottage of the peasant and the artisan may 
be wanting in every comfort and convenience, and be 
utterly destitute of proper ornament. {In such a state 
of society Architecture will be only encouraged by 
the most wealthy; and its principles as an art will only 
be considered applicable to the more expensive forms in 
which they can be displayed. ‘The first indications of an 
extended desire for some qualities in a building beyond 
the common ones of warmth and shelter, are preseuted in 
very clumsy attemipts at finery in the houses of the 
Wealthier portions of the middle classes. The bor of 
the rich citizen, with its monstrous inconveniences and 
fantastic decorations, is for a lone time the object of 
contempt. But at length a new era arrives. ‘Those 
who practise architecture as a profession are tired of 
waiting for the rich prizes of their calling. ‘They discover 
that the many are the best customers; and that the 
hundreds, who build snug houses at the cost of £500 or 
£1000, have more money to lay out than the one who 
expeuds £50,000 upon a mansion. In the mean time 
a few good examples of correct taste, and the gradual 
dissemination of a knowledge of those principles of art 
which are equally applicable to the cottage and the palace, 
render those who build houses desirous of something 
more satisfying than the ugly and uncomfortable edifices 
of their forefathers. ‘They learn that a building is not 
necessarily more expensive, because its rooms are of just 
proportions, and its ventilation perfect. ‘They learn, 
also, that even their furniture may be in the best taste, 
without being dearer, or perhaps so dear, as the vulgar 
assemblage of a great many rude articles and a few 
fine ones, which used to be found in the tradesinan’s 
parlour, and even in the merchant’s drawing-room. At 
length the suburbs of a great city, such as London, 
become rich with elegant villas; in which there is not 
only much substantial comfort for the inhabitants, but 
where they are habitually surrounded with objects which 
keep alive in them the seuise of the beautiful. ‘That they 
are happier and more virtuous through such associations 
we cannot doubt. 

But while this change is taking place a still more 
important change is going forward, which affects the 
happiness of a much larger body of the people. ‘The 
mud hovel is gradually displaced by the neatly-whitened 
cottage ; the reeking dunghill before the door is thrust 
away by the pretty flower-garden; the honeysuckle 
climbs about the porch, and the china-rose drops around 
the latticed windows. ‘The house within is, in too many 
cases, ill provided with comforts that might be easily ob- 
tained : it is indifferently ventilated ; there isa great waste 
of fuel caused by the construction of the fire-places ; 
the furniture is coarse and inconvenient. It is evident 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


339 


that science has not been called in to the aid of the 
builder ; and that the inhabitants have yet much to learn 
before they are prepared to wish that in their hours of 
leisure they should be surrounded by objects which 
might assist in shutting out the desire for coarse eujoy- 
ments, by making home delightful. 

It has been the constant endeavour of our own little 
work to raise the standard of enjoyment amongst the 
great mass of the people; because we believe that the 
standard of morals will be elevated in the same Propor- 
tion. If there ever was a time, which we greatly doubt, 
when want of knowledge and want of refinement could 
be received as any securities for virtue aud happiness, 
that time is passed away. We, therefore, think ourselves 
especially called upon to lend our aid in making Mr, 
Loudon’s Encyclopedia of Architecture more generally 
known; because we feel that the universal diffusion of 
a love for what conduces to our domestic comfort, and 
raises our domestic tastes, is most intimately connected 
with the general prosperity of the community. Mcst of 
us want a great deal of the information which is con- 
tained in this Encyclopedia. In the country, the greater 
number of those who build are their own architects; 
and even if they seek professional assistance they 
encumber their adviser with projects and objections 
arising out of their own complete ignorance of what is 
essential to economy as well as convenience, to say 
noting of taste. Mr. Loudon well observes, ‘“* The 
necessaries and even comforts of life are contained in a 
small compass, and are within the reach of a far ereater 
portion of mankind than is generally imagined. But 
one room can be used at a time, by either the poor man 
who has no other, or the rich mau who has several ; and 
that room can only be rendered comfortable by being 
warm, dry, light, well veutilated, and convenient: quali 
ties which depend not so much upon tlie materials used 
in its construction, as on the manner of applying them. 
All that is wanting is knowledge; first, of what is 
necessary and desirable; and, secondly, of the means of 
obtaining it at a small expense.” 

Mr. Loudon’s Encyclopedia of Architecture is divided 
into four Sections, or Books, viz. :— 

I. Designs for labourers’ and mechanics’ cottages, and 
for dwellings for gardeners and bailiffs and other upper 
servants, aud for small farmers and cultivators of their 
own land. 

II. Designs for farm-houses and farmerios, eountry- 
inns and parochial schools. 

IIf. Desiens for villas. 

IV. Principles of criticism in architecture. 

The three first books are each treated in the same 
way, which appears to us excellently adapted to diffuse 
a knowledge of the principles and practice of archites- 
ture. The author, in each department, first presellts 
several model designs, with very detailed descriptions, 
and with estimates ; he next gives a great number of 
miscellaneous designs, some furnished by competent 
architects, others taken from buildings actually executed ; 
and lastly, he supplies minute directions as to the in- 
terior fittings in each department, with drawings of all 
the more important articles of furniture. Oue principle 
nervades the whole book—the desire for an unlimited 
diffusion of a love of comfort, and even of elewauce. 
There may be, no doubt, very honest differences of 
opinion as to the propriety of disseminating a taste for 
what some will call luxury and false refinement. For 
our own parts, we believe that a much more wasteful 
expenditure of the wealth of the community arises ont 
of the low aud grovelling habits that belong to tasteless 
ignorance, than can belong to any pleasure that ad- 
dresses itself to the mind. ‘The cottager, who has his 
little flower-garden for recreation; whose health, and 
that of his family, is preserved by being in a dry, warn, 


land well-ventilated house; who has conveniencies for 


2X 2 


840 


the most economical cookery; who has accustomed Inm- 
self to the pleasures of a cleanly fireside ; wlio wishes 
for neatness, and even something of elegance in his furni- 
ture; and who has acquired a love for reading, that man 
is likely to prove a much more efficient contributor to the 
wealth of society by his own exertions, and to hold hnn- 
self much farther above the degradation of living upon 
the common stock, than he who rushes from a damp and 
dirty house, anda cheerless hearth, to partake the nightly 
stimulants of the noisy ale-house. We conclude with a 
passage from Mr. Loudon’s book, which appears to us 
as correct in thought as forcible in expression :— 

“ All that is essential, in point of the general arrangement 
of a house, may be obtained in a cottage with mud walls, as 
well as ina palace built with marble ; and we intend now 
to pot out in what manner all that 1s comfortable, conve- 
nient, agreeable, and much of even what 1s elegant m mo- 
dern furniture and furnishing, may be formed of the indi- 
genous woods and other common articles of every country, 
as well as of the most beautiful exotic timbers, and other 
costly materials obtained from abroad. If it should be asked, 
whether we expect that such designs as those which follow 
can be executed or procured by the cottagers of this country, 
we answer, that we trust they soon will be; and we believe 
that the first step towards this desirable end is to teach 
them what to wish for. As the spread of knowledge becomes 
general, it will be accompanied by the spread of taste ; and 
correet habits of thinking will go hand-in-hand with com- 
fortable dwellings, and convenient, neat, and elegant forms 
of furniture. An approximation to equalization in know- 
ledge will lead to an approximation in everything else ; for 
knowledge is power, and the first use that every man makes 
of it is to better his condition. Our grand object, therefore, 
in this, as in every other department of our work, 1s fo co- 
operate with the causes at present in operation, for bettering 
the condition, and elevating the character, of the great mass 
of society in all countries. Though most of the designs 
submitted are of a superior description to what are common 
in cottages, they are not, on that account, more expensive 
than various cumbrous articles of furniture now possessed 
or desired by every cottager in tolerable circumstances. The 
difference will be found to consist chieily in the kind of 
labour employed in making them, and in thie style of design 
Which they exhibit.” 


STATUE OF SIR JOSEPH BANKS, 
In rur Bririsu Museum. 

“ PosTerRity is likely to do scanty justice to the merits of 
Banks, when the grateful recollections of his con- 
temporaries shall have passed away. His name is con- 
nected with no great discovery, no striking improvement ; 
and he has left no literary works from which the extent 
of his industry or the amount of his knowledge can be 
estimated. Yet he did much for the cause of sclence,— 
“much by his personal exertious,—more by a judicious 
and liberal use of the advantages of fortune. Lor more 
than half a century a zealous and successful student of 
natural history in general, and particularly of botany, 
the history of his scieutific life is to be found in the 
records of science during that long and active period.” 

The above remarks are extracted from a memoir of 
Sir Joseph Banks in the ‘‘ Gallery of Portraits ;” and 
they point out the propriety of erecting some public 
monument to the memory of this friend of science before 
** the grateful recollections of his contemporaries shal] 
have passed away.” ‘That duty has been accomplished : 
a beautiful marble statue has been executed by sub- 
scription, and presented by the subscribers to the British 
Museum. Itis placed in the hall of that institution. 
The likeness is admirable; and the calm repose and 
dignified simplicity of the figure, class this statue 
amolugst the happiest efforts of our eminent sculp- 
tor, Mr. Chantrey. A further memorial of Banks has 
also been associated with this monument. A fine 
drawiug, by Mr. Corbould, of the statue, has been 
engraved in mezzotinto by Mr. Cousins; and a copy of 
this exquisite engraving has been presented to each 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


fAuaust 31, 


subscriber. One hundred impressions, moreover, have 
been taken for public sale, for the benefit of the Artists’ 
und, and may be had of Messrs. Colnaghi and Son. 
We are indelted to the committee for erecting this 
statue, for a reduced drawing by Mr. Corbould. 


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'Statue of Sir Joseph Banks. ] 
PUBLIC WALKS AND PLACES OF EXERCISE. 


SHAKSPEARE, in the play of * Julius Cesar,” when Marc 
Antony is addressing the plebeians of Rome, and urg- 
ing them to revenge the death of the ereat dictator, with 
consummate knowledge of the feelings of the bulk of the 
people, puts this last and most powerful appeal into the 
mouth of the orator :— 

“¢ Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, 

His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, 

Ou this side Tiber; he hath left them you, 

And to your heirs for ever, common pleasures, 

To walk abroad and recreate yourselves.” 
Undoubtedly, one of the greatest benefits that can be 
conferred upon the inhabitants of a crowded city, is to 
provide for them spacious and accessible spots, where the 
young may indulge in those exercises which to them 
are the greatest of pleasures, and the adult ‘ may walk 
abroad aud recreate” themselves. In the time of Shak- 
speare, the people of London, and of the large cities of 
ugland in general, had, to a much greater extent than 
at present, the means of such enjoyments. Almost 
every town had its butts or archery ground; and the 
laws for preventing trespasses were much less rigidly 
enforced thau they are now, when the value of property 
in the immediate vicinity of any crowded population is so 
materially increased. ‘That this gradual diminution of 
one of the chief sources of healthful and innocent enjoy- 
ment has been productive of most serious injury to the 
physical and moral condition of the community, there 
can be no question. ‘The evil, however, has been in- 
quired into by the House of Commons, and will proba- 
bly be materially remedied. Although it is no part of 
our ordinary duty to allude to the proceediugs of Parlia- 
ment, we have much pleasure in making our readers ac- 
quainted with the Report, dated the 27th Juue last, of 
the ‘Select Committee appointed to consider the best 
means of securing open spaces in the vicinity of populous 
towns, as public walks and places of exercise, calculated 
to promote the health and comfort of the inhabitants.” 

The committee, which was appointed by the House of 
Commons on the 21st of February, examined witnesses 
from London, Bristol, Birmingham, Walsall, Hull, 





== 





1833. ] 


Liverpool, Leeds, Bradford, Blackburn, Bolton, Bury 


(Lancashire), Manchester, and Sheffield. In their 
report they have embodied the substance of the infor- 
mation communicated by these witnesses. In the seats 
of the three great manufactures of the kingdom, cotton, 
woollen, and hardware, they find, that while the wealth, 
importance, and population of the towns have increased in 
the most surprising manner, no provision has been made 
to afford the people the means of healthy exercise or 
cheerful amusement with their families, on their holidays 
or days of rest. The evidence, above all, shows that 
during the hour or halt-hour after work, the artisans and 
their children, in most places, cannot obtain a sieht of 
the fair face of nature—they cannot look upon a field or 
a green tree—without encountering a very long walk 
through muddy or dirty roads. This evil, and its conse- 
quences, are well described, in a letter to the chairman 
of the committee, by Dr. Kay of Manchester :— 

“At present the entire labouring population of Man- 
chester is without any season of recreation, and is ignorant 
of all amusements, excepting that very small portion which 
frequents the theatre. Healthful exercise in the open air 
is seldom or never taken by the artisans of this town, and 
their health certainly suffers considerably from this depriva- 
tion. The reason of this state of the people is, that all 
scenes of interest are remote from the town, and that the 
walks which can be enjoyed by the poor are chiefly the 
turnpike-roads, alternately dusty or muddy. Were parks 
provided, recreation would be taken with avidity, and one 
of the first results would be a better use of the Sunday, and 
a substitution of innocent amusements at all other times, 
for the debasing pleasures now in vogue.” 

The metropolis is in some respects better provided 
with the means of affording air and exercise to its enor- 
mous population; but these have been very much cur- 
tailed of late years in particular districts, ‘The popula- 
tion of London, including the suburbs, is now a million 
and a half. Let us follow the committee in their state- 
ments of what- advantages this great mass of human 


beings possess for the preservation of their health, and | 


the promotion of enjoyment, by exercise in open spaces. 

In taking a view of that part of London which is 
situate to the north of the ‘Thames, the committee begin 
near Vauxhall Bridge, and follow the margin of this vast 
city round till it again meets the Thames near the West 
India Docks. St. James’s Park, the Green Park, and 
Hyde Park, afford to the inhabitants of all this western 
portion of the metropolis inestimable advantages as 
public walks. The two latter parks are open to all 
classes. Si. James’s Park has lately been planted and 
improved with great taste, and the interior is now 
opened, as well as Kensington Gardens, to all persons 
well behaved and properly dressed. 

From Hyde Park, following the edge of the town to 
the north-east, the committee find no open public walk 
till they reach the Regent’s Park to the north of the 
New Road. This park is a most inestimable advantage 
to all those who reside near it; but the committee ex- 
press their hope, that no mistaken regard for a small 
rent to be derived from the pasturage, will prevent a 
larger portion of this park being soon thrown open to 
the public under proper regulations. The committee 
add, that they have heard, with much regret, that it is 
in contemplation to inclose and build upon that pleasant 
rising ground called Primrose Hill. No one, they say, 
who has seen the throng resorting thither inthe summer 
months, and the happiness they seem to enjoy, but must 
lament that this spot, commanding a fine view and good 
air, should be taken from them; and they suggest that 
means should be taken by Government to secure it in its 
present open state. 

For several miles along the northern edge of the 
metropolis, all the way to the river at Limehouse, there 
is not a single place reserved as a park or public walk, 
planted and laid out for the accommodation of the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


341 


people; yet there is no part of London where such im- 
provements are more imperatively called for. Three 
places along the north-eastern border of London have 
been suggested as proper for public walks. The first is 
an open space of nearly fifty acres, called Copenhagen 
Fields, in a high and healthy situation, which is to be 
disposed of. ‘The second place is Hackney Downs or 
Bonner’s Fields, on a dry aud gravelly soil, which would 
form public walks of great advantage to the neighbour- 
hood. ‘Ihe third is an extension and improvement of 
the embankment alone the river-side, to the east of 
London, from Limehouse to Blackwall, called the Mil] 
Wall. This place, if laid out as a public terrace or 
walk, would command a view of the opposite coast of 
Kent, and all the vessels passing up and down the river, 
to the port of London. 

On the south bank of the Thames, from Vauxhall 
Bridge to the east end of Rotherhithe, there is no single 
spot reserved as a park or public walk for the accommo- 
dation of the inhabitants. Kennington Common, about 
seventeen acres, is indeed kept tninclosed, and has across 
it a publicthoroughfare; though this Common might be 
improved, its advantages are very limited. ‘The com- 
inittee, therefore, recommend to the consideration of thie 
House the peculiar natural advaiitages which the metro- 
polis might possess in respect to public walks on the 
banks of the Thames. They point out several improve- 
ments that might be easily made above Westminster 
Bridge; and recommend the admission of the public to 
the ‘Terrace on the river front of Somerset House. They 
also propose that Government should compound with the 
proprietors of Waterloo Bridge for the removal of the 
toll-cate next the Strand, so that the bridge might be 
open as a public walk. 

The committee next proceed to recommend the esta- 
blishment of places for athletic exercises in the vicinity of 
large towns. They very properly say, “ the spring to 
industry which occasional relaxation gives, seems quite 
as necessary to the poor as to the rich.” They also 
particularly advocate the formation of bathing-places. 

It must be quite evident that it will bea work of time 
to carry into effect these recommendations ;_ and, there- 
fore, the committee in the first instance do little more 
than press the subject on the serious attention of the 
House. ‘They hope that “ the time is arrived when an 
earnest and growing interest in all that relates to the 
welfare of the humble classes is taking possession of the 
public mind.” In such a feeling every large amelioration 
of our social condition must begin. Most anxiously, 
therefore, do we trust that persons of wealth and influ- 
ence will unite to carry into effect the recommendations 


| of this committee—each according to his opportunities— 


m the full conviction that the happiness of all classes of 
the community is most intimately linked together. If 
any arguments were wanting for such exertions, they 
might be found in the following passage of the report 
before us :-— 


“It cannot be necessary to point out how requisite some 
public walks or open spaces in the neighbourhood of large 
towns must be, to those who consider the occupations of the 
working classes who dwell there, confined as they are 
during the week-days as mechanics and manufacturess, and 
often shut up in heated factories. It must be evident that 
it is of the first importance to their health on their day of 
rest to enjoy the fresh air, and to be able (exempt from the 
dust and dirt of public thoroughfares) to walk out in decent 
comfort with their families. If deprived of any such resource, 
it is probable that their only escape from the narrow courts 
and allevs (in which so many of the humble classes reside) 
will be those drinking-shops, where, in short-lived excite- 
ment, they may forget their toil, but where they waste the 
means of their families, and too often destroy their health. 
Neither would your committee forget to notice the advan- 
tages which the public walks (properly regulated and open 
to the middle and humbler classes) give to the improvement 
in the cleanliness, neatness, and personal appearance of 


342 


those who frequent them. A man, walking out with his 
fumily among his neighbours of different ranks, will natu- 
rally be desirous to be properly clothed, and that his wife 
and children should be so also ; but this desire, duly directed 
and controlled, is found by experience to be of the most 
powerful effect in promoting civilization, and exciting in- 
dustry; and your committee venture to remark that it Is 
confined to no age, or station, or sex. Few persons can fail 
to have remarked the difference usually observant in the 
general character and conduct of those among the working 
classes who are careful of personal neatness, as contrasted 
with the habits of others who are negligent or indifferent 
on this point. It is by inducement alone that active, per- 
severing, and willing industry is promoted; and what in- 
ducement can be more powerful to any one, than the desire 
of improving the condition and comfort of his family.’ 


¢ 


So > NET gS OD 





FIRE OF LONDON, 


Tue 2d of September (old style) is the anniversary of 
the breaking out of the most memorable conflagration 
on record—the great Fire of London in 1666. Many 
contemporary narratives of this event have been pre- 
served, the ample details afforded by which might furnish 
a considerable volume; but we shall endeavour to com- 
press within a moderate space a summary of the most 
remarkable particulars attending the commencement and 
progress of the desolating visitation. — 

In the course of the preceding year, London had been 
nearly half depopulated by the most desttuctive plague 
that had ever been known in England. The disease, 
which made its appearance about the beginning of May, 
continued its ravages till the end of September; and 
during that period above 68,000 individuals were enu- 
mnerated as having been carried off by it, in the Bills of 
Mortality. But the real number of victims in that dis- 
trict, it is probable, did not fall much short of 100,000. 
The spirits of the people were but beginning to recover 
from this calamity, and the town, in which the grass had 
been seen growing in the principal streets, had scarcely 
resumed its wonted appearance, when the scene of uni- 
versal consternation was suddenly renewed by the ter- 
nific event we are now about to notice. 

Although the greatest obscurity hangs over the origin 
of the fire, all the accounts agree in stating that it com- 
menced in a house in Pudding Lane, on the east side of 
new Fish Street Hill, ten doors from Thames Street, 
which was occupied by the King’s baker, a person of the 
name of Earryner. It appears to have broken out, not 
as Iivelyn in his ‘‘ Diary” states, at ten o’clock at night, 
but rather about one in the morning of Sunday, the 2d 
of September, the time mentioned in the account pub- 
lished by authority in the “ London Gazette.’’ No 
more full or graphic description has been given of the 
first appearance of the conflagration than that which we 
find in the ‘‘ Diary ” of Pepys, then clerk of the Acts of 
the Navy,—a portion of which we shall therefore give. 

“ Some of our maids sitting up late last night to get 
things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us up 
about three in the morning, to tell us of a great fire’they 
saw in the city. So I rose and slipped on my night- 
cvown, and went to her window ; and thought it to be on 
the back side of Mark Lane at the farthest; but being 
unused to such fires as followed, I thought it far enough 
off *; and so went to bed again and to sleep. About 
seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out 
at the window, and saw the fire not so much as it was, 
and farther off. So to my closet to set things to rights, 
alter yesterday's cleaning. By and by Jane comes, and 
tells me that she hears that above three hundred houses 
have been burned down to-night by the fire we saw, and 
that it is new burning down all Fish Street, by London 
Bridge. So I made inyself ready presently, and walked 
to the ‘Tower, and there got up upon one of the high 


* Pepys’ house and office were in Seething Lane, Crutched Friars, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Aueusr 31 


places, Sir J. Robinson’s little son going up with me; 
and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge 
all on fire, and an infinite ereat fire on this and the 
other side the end of the bridge. . . . Sol drove 
to the water-side, and there got a boat, and throuwh 
bridge, and there saw a lamentable fire... . . Every 
body endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging 
into the river, or bringing them into lighters that lay olf; 
poor people staying in their houses as long as till the 
very fire touched them, and then running into boats, 
or clambering from one pair of stairs by the water-side 
to another. Aud among other things the poor pigeons, 
I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered 
about the windows and balconies, till they burned their 
wings and fell down.” 

in the evening Pepys, accompanied with lis wife and 
some friends, took boat near Whiteliall, “ and thence,” he 
continues, ‘‘ to the fire, up and down, it still encreasing, 
and the wind great. Sonear the fire as we could for 
smoke ; and all over the Thames, with one’s faces in the 
wind, you were almost burned with a shower of fire- 
drops. ‘Dhis is very true; so as houses were burned by 
these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay five or 
six houses, one from another. When we could endure 
no more upon the water, we toa little alehouse on the 
Bankside, over against the ‘Three Cranes, and thiere 
staid til] it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow, and 
as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in 
corners, and upon steeples, and between churches and 
houses, as far as we could see up thie hill of the City, in 
a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine 
flame of an ordinary fire. . . We staid till it being 
darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire 
from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up 
the hill for an arch of above a mile long: it made me 
weep to see it. ‘The churches, houses, and all on fire, 
and flaming at once; and a horrid noise the flames 
made, and the cracking of liouses at their ruin.”’ 

In what was long: received as the most correct account 
of the fire, as well as of the plague which preceded it,— 
the tract entitled ‘‘God’s Terrible Voice in the City,” 
by the Rev. 'T. Vincent, minister of St. Magdalen, Milk 
Street,—it is stated that on the Sunday the destructive 
element had run as far as Garlick Hythe in Thames 
Street, and had crept up into Cannon Street, and had 
levelled it with the ground. A violent east north-east 
wind had been blowing with scarcely any intermission 
for above a week before, and was still as high as ever. 
This drove the flames up the bank of the river and into 
the heart of the City. ‘The progress which they made 
towards the east was comparatively slow. 

Early on Monday the whole of Gracechurch Street 


4 


was on fire, as well as Lombard Street to the west, and — 


part of Fenchurch Street, to the east of it. ‘The flames 
then seized upon Cornhill, enveloping the Royal Ex- 
change, as well as all the other buildings in the strect. 
Evelyn went on the afternoon of this day to the Bank- 
side in Southwark, to see the conflagration. ‘ It was,” 
he says, ‘‘so universal, and the people so astonished, 
that froin the beginning, I know not by what despon- 
dency or fate, they hardly stirred to quench it, so that 
there was nothing heard or seen but crying out and 
Jamentations, running about like distracted creatures, 
without at all attempting to saveeven their goods. . . 
Here we saw the Thames covered with goods floating, 
all the barges and boats laden with what some had time 
aud courage to save; as on the other, the carts, &c,, 
carrying out to the fields, which for many miles 
were strewed with moveables of all sorts, and tents 
erecting to shelter both people aud what goods they 
could get away. . All the sky was of a fiery aspect 
like the top of a burning oven, and the light seen above 
forty miles round about for many nights. God grant 


imine eyes may never behold the like, who now saw 


1833.] 


above ten thousand houses all in‘ one flame! The 
noise, and cracking and thunder of the impetuous 
flames,—the shrieking of women and children,—the 
hurry of people,—the fall of towers, houses, and churches 
was like a hideous storm, and the air all about so hot 
and inflamed that at last one was not able to approach 
it, so that they were forced to stand still and let the 
flames burn on, which they did for near two miles in 
length and one in breadth. The clouds, also, of smoke 
were dismal, and reached, upon computation, near fifty 
miles in length.” 

This day it appears that some houses were pulled 
down in Whitefriars, and it was proposed to pull down 
ail those on eaeh side of the river Fleet, from the Thames 
to Holborn Bridge. Vincent mentions, that sueh was 
already the difficulty of procuring conveyances for soods, 
that £5, £10, £20, and even £30, were, in some in- 
stances, given for a cart to carry valuable articles out 
into the fields, 
besides having made some way even in the face of the 
wind along Thames Street and Fenchurch Street east- 
ward, rushed onwards from Cornhill to Cheapside, the 
greater part of whieh, as well as of the streets between it 
and the river, and many also of those to the north, it 
had laid in ashes before day-break. A writer, who was 
in town by seven o'clock on Tuesday morning, and 
whose account has been published by Mr. Malcolm in 
his ‘ Londinium Redivivum,’ from the MS. whieh was 
in the possessfon, of Mr. Gough, says, “ It came to St. 
Paul’s about noon, and thrusting forwards with much 
eagerness towards Ludgate, within two hours more drove 
those from the work, who had been employed all that 
day in levelling the houses on the river Fleet. Itrushed 
like a torrent down Ludgate Hill, and by five o'clock 
was advaneed as high as Fleet Conduit. Despairing 
then of ever seeing this place more but in ashes, we went 
to Hornsey, four miles off, and in our way to Highgate, 
we might discern with what rage and ereediness it 
marched up Fleet Street.” 

The night of Tuesday is stated to have been even 
more dreadful than that of Monday ; the fire making its 
way with prodigious and irresistible rapidity to the west, 
while the immense field of its previous devastations still 
continued to flaine behind. 

In the course of this night, however, the wind began 
to slacken a little ; and, according to the aceount already 
referred to, published by Malcolm, the fire was stopped 
at the Temple, Fetter Lane, and Holborn Bridge, 
between the hours of two and six on Wednesday morning. 
In Shoe Lane, however, it was not mastered till twelve ; 
and in Cripplegate and the neighbourhood it burned till 
evening. 
was stopped was effeeted principally by the expedient of 
blowing up the houses in its way with gunpowder. A 
barrel of powder was put under each honse, whieh is 
stated to have first lifted up the whole a yard or two, 
after whieh it fell down on its site in a mass of ruius. 
here was soon found to be little or no danger to the 
bystanders in this operation. 

But, although, in the course of Wednesday the fire 
was thus got under in all parts, the condition of the 
inhabitants of the destroyed city was, as may be con- 
eelved, dismal in the extreme. It was only now that 
the full extertt of the calamity came to be seen and felt. 
Not more than six or seven individuals had fallen a 
prey to the flames, although it is probable that the 
sudden removal from their houses into the open fields 
must have been fatal to many of the sick and aged. 
But although life was left to the houseless multitude, 
they had lost almost everything else. Evelyn draws 
a inelancholy pieture of the general desolation. ‘ The 
poor inhabitants,” he says, ‘‘ were dispersed about St. 
George’s Fields, and Moorfields, as far as Hicheate, 
and several miles in circle, some under tents, some under 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


In the course of Monday night, the fire, | 


Its extinetion at the different points where it 


343 


miserable huts and hovels; many without a rac, or any 
necessary utensils, bed. or board, who from delicate- 
ness, riches, and easy accommodations, in stately and 
well-furnished houses, were now redueed to extremest 
ae eudepereye He people who jow 
walked about the ruins appeared like men in some 
dismal desert, or rather in some great city laid waste by 
a cruel enemy; to which was added the steneh that 
came from some poor creatures’ bodies, beds, and other 
combustible goods. . . . Nor was I yet able to 
pass through any of the narrower streets, but kept thie 
widest; the ground and air, smoke and fiery vapour, 
continued so intense that my hair was almost singed, 
and my feet insufferably surbated. The by-lanes and 
narrower streets were quite filled up with rubbish, nor 
eould one have possibly known where he was, but by the 
ruins of some church or hall, that had some remarkable 
tower or pinnacle remaining. I then went towards 
Islington and Highgate, where one might have seen two 
hundred thousand people, of all ranks and degvrees, dis- 
persed and lying along by their heaps of what they eould 
save from the fire, deploring their loss, and though ready 
to perish for hunger and destitution, yet not Asking one 
penny for relief, which to me appeared a stranger sight 
than any I had yet beheld.” ‘The misery and eonfusion, 
it appears, were still further augmented by a rumour 
which arose, that the French and Dutch had landed, and 
were about to enter the city. ‘The mingled terror and 
fury which this news excited were so great that it beeame 
necessary to send bodies of military to the fields where 
the people were, to watch them and keep down the 
tumult. 

A plan has been engraved, which may be found in 
Maitland’s ‘ History of London,’ exhibiting the extent of 
the gap made in tne metropolis by this dreadful eonfla- 
gration. It may be described, generally, as reaching 
from the Tower in the east, to the Temple in the west, 
while its circuit towards the north might be nearly 
measured by a semieirele, described from the eeutra] 
point of that portion of the river-side, with a radius of 
from half a mile to two-thirds of a mile in length. 
Rather more than three-fourths of the city within the 
walls were destroyed, together with a space fully equal 
to the remaining space beyond. The fire, aecording to 
Maitland, “ laid waste and consumed the buildings on 
four hundred and thirty-six aeres of ground, four hun- 
dred streets, lanes, &c., thirteen thousand and two 
hundred houses, the cathedral chureh of St. Paul, eighty- 
six parish churches, six ehapels, the magnificent build- 
ings of Guildhall, the Royal Exchange, Custom House, 
and Blackwell tall, divers hospita’s and libraries, fifty- 
two of the Companies Ealls, and a vast number of other 
stately edifices, together with three of the city wates, four 
stone bridges, and the prisons of Newgate, the Fleet, 
the Poultry, and Wood Street Compters; the loss of 
which, together with that of merchandise and household 
furniture, by the best calculation, amounted to ten 
millions seven hundred and thirty thousand and five 
hundred pounds.” 

This great ealamity however, as it was felt to be at 
the time, turned out eventually a blessing to London. 
The eity soon rose again from its ruins, inealculably im- 
proved both in eonvenience and splendour; and the 
nlawue, formerly almost its yearly scourge, burned, as 
it were, out of its ancient places of shelter by the all- 
cleansing flames, has never since been seen in England. 

The fluted Doric column on Fish Street Hill, known 
by the name of the Monument, which was erected to 
perpetuate the memory of this great fire, was begun by 
Sir Christopher Wren in 1671, and finished in 1677. 
The annexed cut presents a view of it, as it is now 
laid open by the improvements connected with the new 
approaches from London Bridge. The Monument is 
two hundred and two feet in height, and the diameter 


a 


344 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. [Auausr 31, 1833. — 


of the shaft is fifteen feet. Tull lately, an inscription on It is honourable to the improved feelings of our aere, 

the Monument imputed the fire to the Papists, then the | that this calumny upon a great body of our fellow- 

objects of persecution and popular dislike. It is in al- | subjects has been rejected by a vote of the Corporation 

lusion to this that Pope has said that this fine column— | of London; and that the offensive inscription is now 
“ Like a tall bully lifts the head and lies.”’ obliterated. 


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[ View of the Monument. ] 





«* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 
LONDON: :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST, 
Printed by Wiutram CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


-” 








O¥ THE 


wociety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 














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[Serremzer 7, 1833. 


STEPHEN AT VIENNA. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


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[ View of St. Stephen’s Church at Vienna. ] 


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—-———— 


846 


Tue city of Vienna, the capital of the empire of Aus- 
tria, is inferior in extent to most of the other Knropean 
capitels—the circumference of what is properly called 
the town being only about three English miles. This 


is the whole that “is surrounded by the ancient walls. 


The suburbs, indeed, which were also walled round in 
the latter part of the last century, spread to a conside- 
rable distance beyond these limits; but of the space 
which they cover, a very large portion consists merely of 

gardens and open fields. “Although the whole space 
occupied by the town and the suburbs is about equal in 
extent to Paris, the population probably does not exceed 
three hundred thousand, or little more than a third of 
that of the French capital. 

In ancient times, however, its dimensions were much 
more contracted ; for the Cathedral of St. Stephen, which 
is now nearly in the heart of the city, is stated to have 
been originally built without the walls. ‘This is one of 
the most magnificent monuments of Gothic architecture 
which now exist. It is three hundred and forty feet in 
Jength, by two hundred and twenty in breadth, and eighty 
in height; but its most remarkable feature ts its tower 
terminating in a pyramidical spire, the height of which 
is said to The four hundred and thirty, or ‘according {to 
other authorities four hundred and sixty, feet. It rises far 
above everything else in the city. A staircase conducts 
to the summit, the number of steps in which is seven hun- 
dred ; and the view from thence over the extensive and 
richly-cultivated plain in the midst of which Vienna stands, 
is described as being one of the finest inthe world. ‘This 
lofty and beautiful tower (for the richness of its archi- 
tecture equals its surprising elevation) rises from the 
south side of the church. A similar tower on the 
opposite side of the church is supposed to have been 
intended in the original desigh;* and the popular 
tradition is, that after it had been carried as high as 
the roof of the church, the builder was ‘thrown “from 
a window and killed by the person who had bnilt the 
former, and who took this way of preventing his own 
erection from being equalled or surpassed by his rival. 
A sculpture in marble, which stands under the pulpit, 
of aman looking out from a window, i is pointed to as 
the record and evidence of this event; but it is more 
probable that the story has been made for the sculpture 
than that the sculpture refers to the story. 

Fiven the bitterest enemies both of the Austrian power 
and of the Christian faith itself have been won to admi- 
ration by the beauty of the tower of St. Stephen’s. As 
in ancient times, at the destr uction of rhebes, 


“The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 
The honse of Pindarus, when témple and tower 
Went to the ground,” 


so the Turkish sultan, Soliman IT., when he besieged 
Vienna, m 1529, gave Pyros that the cannoniers siiduld 
carefully avoid touching with their shot this noble spire. 
In acknowledgment of the sultan’s eenerosity, it was 
ordered that fhe crescent and star, the Ottoman arms, 
should be engraved on one of the highest pinnacles ; and 
there, accordingly, they were to be seen till the last siege 
in 1683, when “Kara Mustapha, by whoin the bombard- 
ment was carried on, not having observed the same for- 
bearance, they were obliterated. 
occasion, when the urkish army, consisting of ‘two 
hundred thousand inen, after having continued the attack 
for twenty-three days, afl brought the city to the brink 
of surrender, was suddenly fallen upon and cut to pieces 
by a much simlies force under the command of the ereat 
Jolin Sobieski, that a bell was cast for the tower of St: 
> imen s from the cannon that were captured. The 
bell contains aboye eighteen tons of metal, and is ten 
fect in height, and thirty-t wo in circumference. 

"The first church which occupied the site of the present 
St. cropiens, s, was erected by Duke Henry I, in 1144 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


It was on this latter, 


[Seprempen 7, 


but after having been twice burnt down, the edifice was 
éntirely rebuilt in 1270. It was originally dedicated to 
all the saints; and was not made a cathedral till after 
the middle of the fourteenth century. About the same 
time it was repaired and greatly enlarged by Rodol- 
phus TV. ‘The tower, however, is of still later date; all 
that part, at least, which is above the walls having been 
certainly erected since the year 1400. ‘Phe Dukes 
Abert HII. and IV. have the credit of commencing and 
completing it. (See ‘ Vienna Gloriosa,” folio. Vienna, 
1708.) | 
‘The whole of the cathedral, which is built of freestone, 
is richly decorated, both externally and in its interior, 
with fioures and other ornamental chiselling in the 
favourite style of the times in which it was meted The 
inside is also adorned by between thirty and forty altars, 
all of marble, among which the high altar is remarkably 
splendid. ‘To these are to be added numerous monu- 
ments or mausoleums. That of the Emperor Frederic 
III. is said to have cost forty thonsand ducats. Another 
of @reat sumptuousness is that of the famous Prince 
Eugene of Savoy. It was only completed in 1759. — 


ORIGIN OF THE ROYAL ARSENAL AT 
WOOLWICH. 


Tue Government Foundry for casting brass ordnance 
was formerly situated in Moorfields. The process of 
casting the cannon was then an object of curiosity to the 
inhabitants of the metropolis, many of whom, of all 
classes, frequently attended dnring the operation of 
pouring the melted metal into the moulds. ‘The injured 
cannon which had been taken from the French in the 
suecessful campaigns of the Duke of Marlborough, 
amounting to a considerable number, had been placed 
before the foundry and in the adjacent artillery ground, 
aid it was determined, in 1716, to recast these canton. 
On the day appointed for performing this work, a more 
than usual number of persons were assembled to view 
the process. Many of the nobihty and several general 
officers were present, for whose accomimedation tem- 
porary galleries had been erected near the furnaces. 
Ainong the company then drawn together was Andrew 
Schalch, an intelligent young man, a native of Schafft 
hausen in Switzerland, who was travelling for tmprove- 
ment; he was at the foundry at an early hour, and 
having been permitted minutely to Inspect the works, 
detected some humidity in the moulds, aud immediately 
perceived the danger likely to arise from the ponring 
into them of hot metal in such astate. Schalch com- 
municated his fears to Colonel Armstrong, the Surveyor 
General of thie Ordinance, exp lained His reasons for 
believing that an explosion ‘would take place, and 
strongly urged him and the rest of the company to 
withdraw from the foundry before the casting of the 
metal. The colonel having closely questioned Schalch 
on the snbject, found him “pertectly conversant with all 
the principles of the founder’s art, and being convinced 
of the good sense which dictated his advice quitted the 
foundry, t together with all those persous who could be 
induced to believe that there were any grounds for ap- 
prehension. 

‘The furnaces being opened, the finid metal rmshed 
into the monlds, the moisture in which was instantly 
converted into steam, and its expansive force acting 
upon the metal drove it out in all directions with extreme 
violence ; part of the roof was blown ‘off, the galleries 
wave Way, ‘and a scene “of much mischief and Vistrem 
eisutcr Many of the ‘spectators had their limbs broken, 
most of the workmen were burnt in a dreadful manner, 
and several lives were lost. 

A few days alterwards an advertisement appeared in 


the newspapers, notifying that if the young foreigner 
a 


1833.1 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


347 


who foretold this explosion would call at the Ordnance ] which ecologists distinguish the relative aces of strata, 


Office it might prove advantageous to both parties. 
Schalch being informed, through a friend, of this int- 
mation, lost no time in obeying the summons. Colonel 
Armstrong had then much further conversation with 
him on the subject; and became by this means so well 
assured of his superior ability, that it was finally agreed 
(0 iutrust Schaleb with putting into execution the inten- 
tion of Government to seek an eligible situation out of 
the metropolis, and within twelve miles thereof, to which 
the Royal Foundry should be removed. Schalch, after 
examining different places, at length fixed upon the 
rabbit warren, at Woolwich, as suitable to his purpose, 
and the erection of the works was left to his superin- 
tendence. 

_ ‘The first specimens of artillery cast by Schalch were 
se much approved, that he was appointed Master Founder 
to the Board of Ordnance, and this office he continued 
to hold during sixty years, assisted m the latter part of 
that term, by his nephew Lewis Gaschlin. 
years ago, this nepliew, then more than eighty years old, 
was stil] employed in the Arsenal as principal modeller 
for the Military Repository. Schalch died in 1776, at 
the advanced age of ninety, and is buried in Woolwich 
church-yard, Some of the largest mortars now remain- 
ing in the Arsenal were cast under his direction and 
bear his name. 

It is well worthy of remark that the discernment, 
which did so much honour to Colonel Armstrong, was 
fully proved by the fact, that during the whole period in 
which Schalch superintended the casting of the Ordnance 
at Woolwich, amidst operations attended with much 
hazard and difficulty, not one single accident occurred ; 
this fact bears ample testimony to the skill, prudence, 
and watchful care of “ the young foreigner,” who owed 
his rise in life to the judicious and prompt application, 
at a critical moment, of the knowledge he had acquired. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section 11. 


Oraanic Rematns.—( Continued.) 


In onr last section we gave some examples of remark- 
able species of fossil-shells, corals and crnstacea ; two of 
these, the trilobite and the lily-encrinite, belonging to 
menera which became extinct after the deposit of the 
oldest secondary strata. In the extensive series of 
sand-stones, lime-stones, and clays of the secondary rocks, 
from the coal measures up to and including the chalk, 
(see diagram in No. 51, Jan. 19, 1833,—G to M,) the 
fossil remains of animals consist of a vast variety of 
shells, corals, sponges, and other marine productions of 
a similar description,—of a few kinds of crustacea, that 
is, animals having a crust or shell like that of the 
lobster or crab, a few kinds of fish, some great reptiles, 
and a few insects. No remains of land-quadrupeds, or 
of the marine mammialia, (sea-animals which give suck 
to their young, such as whales,) or of birds, “have yet 
been met with in chalk or < any stratum under the chalk, 
except one imstance of the jaw:of a small quadruped 
found by Dr. Buckland in a quarry near Oxford. Among 
the nmimerous animal remains that occur in the secondary 
Strata, there is not a single species which has not been 
for many ages extinct, and even whole genera have 
totally ceased to exist. 

The extinction of species is so important a fact in all 
that relates to the geological history of the earth, that we 
will, even at the risk of some repetition, eudeavour, by a 
little popular explanation, to make clear to the general 
reader what is meant by the term. Each particular 
kind or genus of animal usually consists of several in- 
dividuals which, while they possess a common character 

class of characters, have particular forms which dis- 
linguish them from each other, and such individuals 
constitute the species of a genus, ‘The characters by 


Twenty-five | 


il. SO fay as “animal remains are concerned, depend, not 
upon the genus, but on the species s for while specics 
have become extinct, one after the other in succession, 
the genera to which they belong have continued to exist 
fae the period of the deposition of the oldest of the 
secondary strata to the present time. For example, the 
genus ostrea, or oyster, is found in the lime-stones which 
lie beneath ihe coal-measures, but not one of the many 
species of oyster which are met with in almost all the 
strata, from that lime-stone up.to the chalk, is identical 
with any species of oyster inhabiting our present seas. 
It is unnecessary for us to give the naines of the marine 
remains which are most abundant in the secondary 
strata, because, even with the assistance of figures, they 
would convey to the general reader no clear idea of 
their peculiar forms, as distinguished from those of 
marine shells, corals, sponges, &c., now existing; but 
some of the marine reptiles are so extraordinary in point 
of form and size as to deserve a more particular notice. 
Of these monsters of the ancient seas, nine different 
cenera have already been found entombed in the secon- 
dary strata, and of some of the genera there are several 
species. ‘hey have been called saurians by geologists, 
from the resemblance they bear to the lizard tribe, saura 
being the Greek name for a lizard. A common green 
lizard is a tolerably good miniature representation of the 
oeneral form of the reptiles we speak of; but a crocodile 
or alligator gives a still better idea of them, It must be 
Lesnar however, that in speakine of the fossil re- 
mains of those animals, we mean only their skeletons or 
bones: the flesh is never converted into a fossil state. It 
very seldoin happens, also, that the entire skeleton of 
any large animal is found, particularly in the strata that 
were deposited at the bottom of a sea, and for this 
reason: the bones in the living body are kept together 
by a cartilaginous substance or gristle, which after death 
putrefies, and then the several members fall asunder. 
Very often, too, we find only detaclied bones; and this 
may be accounted for by another circumstance attending 
the process of putrefaction, When that commences in a 
dead animal, a considerable quantity of gas is gene. 
rated, which swells up the body, and, if that be in water, 
makes it so much lighter thatit floats. In process of time 
the skin bursts, and the gradually loosened bones are 
scattered far apart. Such detached bones are frequently 
all by which we are enabled to decide upon the nature 
of the animal; and the general reader may, perhaps, 
think that they are sufficiently scanty materials, con- 
sidering the important conclusions whicli geologists 
sonietimes draw from them. But the discoveries of phi- 
losephers, who have occupied themselves in comparing 
the anatomical structure of the lower animals with that 
of the human frame, and lave created the interesting 
and beautiful department of science called Comparative 
Anatomy, have enabled them to establish certain fixed 
and invariable principles for our guidance in this curious 
branch of geological inquiry. ‘This field of investigation 
has only been entered upon within a few years; but 
it las already yielded so rich a harvest, that it has 
established some of the most important truths con- 
nected with the past history of our planet. The great 
discoverer of those general laws of the animal king 
lom was the illustrious French naturalist, the Baron 
Cuvier, who died last year. Efe has shewn that there 
reigns such a harmony throughout all the parts of 
waich the skeleton is composed, so nice an adaptation 
of the forms to the wants and habits of the animal, and 
such a deeree of mutual subordination between one part 
and another in portions of the structure apparently quite 
unconnected, that we are enabled by the inspection of a 
single bone to say with certainty that it must have be- 
longed to a particular kind of animal, and could not 
have formed a part of the skeleton of uny other. ‘Thus, 
2X2 


348 THE PENNY 
if we present to a skilful comparative anatomist a small 
bone of the foot of a quadruped, he will not only pro- 
nounce with certainty as to the size of the animal to 
which it belonged, but will say what sort of teeth it must 
have had. eee it had horns, and whether it fed 
upon the flesh of other animals or on vegetable sub- 
stances. If many detached bones belonging to the 
same kind of animal be collected, the skill of the 
comparative anatomist enables him to put them together 
in their true places, and thus a coinplete skeleton has 
been constructed of separate fossil bones which had 
belonged to several individuals of the same species. In 
this application of anatomy to geology we have a beau- 
tiful illustration of the intimate connexion of the sciences 
with each other. The discovery, in one of our stone- 
quarries, of a few mutilated fragments of bone imbedded 
in the solid rock, reveals to us the kind of animals that 
must have inhabited this region of the earth at the remote 
period when the rock was in the act of being deposited 
at the bottom of the sea, and tells us also that the climate 
was not that of the temperate zone but of the tropics. 
The most remarkable of the fossil saurians which are 
found in the secondary strata are those which have been 
called ichthyosaurus, plesiosaurus, megalosaurus, and 
iguanodon. The first of these is so called from the 
characters of the animal partaking at the same time of 
the nature of a fish and of the lizard tribe; zcehthys and 
sauras being two Greek words signifying fish and lizard. 
Its head resembles that of a crocodile, only it 1s much 
larger and sharper, its snout ending ina point, almost 
as acute as the beak of a bird: it has a most formidable 


MAGAZINE. [Serremper 7, 
supply of sharp conical teeth, no less than sixty in 
each jaw. Its head was of an enormous size, for 
jaws measuring eight feet in length have been found; 
and it was furnished with a pair of eyes of still more 
extraordinary proportion, for the oval hollows for that 
organ in a skull belonging to a gentleman at Bristol 
measure fourteen and a half inches in their largest dia- 
meter, the size of a dish on which a tolerably good- 
sized turkey could be served up. The head was about 
a fourth of the whole length of the animal, and was 
joined to the body by a very short neck: the back-bone 
was composed of joints or vertebreé different from those 
of land animals, and similar to those of fishes: it was 
supplied with four paddles like those of a turtle, in the 
lower part of its body, and by means of these and its 
very powerful tail it must have darted very swiftly 
through the water. It was a most singular combination 
of forms, for it had the snout of a dolphin, the teeth of 
a crocodile, the head and breast-bone of a lizard, extre- 
mities like the marine mammalia, and vertebra like a 
fish. We can, however, form no idea of the appearance 
of the animal when alive, except such as is conveyed to 
us by the sight of the skeleton ; a very imperfect one, no 
doubt, as we know by the difference between any animal 
and its skeleton placed beside it. ‘The following repre- 


sentation of the complete skeleton of the ichthyosaurus, 
as restored in the way we have alluded to, is given by 
the Reverend W. Conybeare, the eminent geologist to 
whom we are indebted for the most complete account of 
these fossil saurians.—(T'ransactions of the Geological 
Society, vol. i. 


Second Series.) 





{Skeleton to Ichthyosaurus Communis, restored by Mr. Conybeare. ] 


Remains of the ichthyosaurus have been found in all 
tlie secondary strata, between the red sand-stone and the 
chalk (G to K,—diagram quoted above) in many parts 
of England; but they are most frequently met with in 
the lias lime-stone, (I, f,) and in greatest abundance at 
Lyme Regis in Dorsetshire. ‘They have also been 
found in several places on the continent, especially in 
Wurtemberg. 





The plesiosaurus is so called from its near approach 
to the lizard tribe, pleston being Greek for near. It has 
a considerable resemblance in the body to the ichthyo- 
saurus, but the head is much smaller, and is altogether 
of a different structure; but its most remarkable cha- 
racter is the great length of its neck. In man, all 
quadrupeds and other mammalia, there are exactly 
seven joints or vertebre in the neck; and so strict is the 


LEE: Et Zand s 
Oa (Na 
SSeS 

EE 





. 


Be 
ey f RSI 
et as m4 
< e 


X 


[Skeleton of the Plesiosaurus Dolichodeirus, in the position in which it was found at Lyme Regis.] 


1833.] 


adherence to this rule, that there is precisely the same 
number in the short, stiff neck of the whale, and the 
long, flexible neck of the giraffe. Reptiles have from 
three to eight joints,—birds many more; the swan, 
which has the most, is enabled to make the graceful 
curves of its neck by being provided with twenty-three 
of those separate vertebre ; but the plesiosaurus had no 
less than forty-one. In order to convey to our readers 
on iden of the state in which fossil-bones are found, we 
have given a representation of a plesiosaurus, found in 
1823 at Lyme Regis; but we must remark that, muti- 


‘ae 


ean, 





AS & 
oSp ff 
MEE Linge 
one LS 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


ane taht 
SE ee po eAaee aay nanan nee 
aC G5 po‘ 


349 


lated as it seems, it is rare to find bones lying so nearly 
in the form of the skeleton as those are. The specimen 
occurred imbedded in the shale or slaty clay, which lies 
between the beds of lias limestone, and the skeleton has 
been crushed almost flat by the vast weight of stone 
lying above it. 

Mr. Conybeare, to whom we are indebted for the first 
description and name of the plesiosaurus, has given us 
the following representation of this extraordinary long- 
necked reptile, in a restored state, in the same way as he 


has given us a figure of the ichthyosaurus. 
ae 


Sha iy 


[Skeleton of the Plesiosaurus Dolichodeirus, restored by Mr. Conybeare. |] 


Mecatosaurus.—Some fragments of the bones ofa 
saurian of gigantic size were discovered by Dr. Buckland 
a few years azo in the quarry of Stonesfield, near Wood- 
stock, in Oxfordshire. According to the opinion of 
Cuvier, who examined them, they must have belonged to 
an individual of the hzard tribe, measuring forty feet in 
length, and having a bulk equal to that of an elephant 
seven feet high. ‘This fossil animal was distinguished 
by Dr. Buckland with the above name on account of its 
ereat size, megale being Green for great. 

The other great fossil saurian we have mentioned 1s 
the ionanodon which was found in Sussex; but as an 
account of it has been already given in this ‘* Magazine,” 
(No. 52, Jan. 26, 1833,) we refer our readers to that 
description. 

A mosi curious discovery was made a few years ago 
by Dr. Buckland at Lyme Regis. 

He had often remarked a number of long rounded 
stony bodies, like oblong pebbles or kidney potatoes 
scattered on the shore, and frequently lying beside the 
bones of the saurians when these were discovered in the 
rock. He was induced to make a closer examination of 
them, and they turned out to be the dung of the saurian 
reptiles in a fossil state. When found along with the 
bones they are always under or among the ribs. Many 
specimeus of them contained scales, teeth, and bones of 
fishes that seem to have passed undigested through the 
body of the animals ; just as the enamel of teeth and frag- 
ments of bone are found undigested in the dung of the 
ravenous hyzna. Itwas thus shown that these great mon- 
sters of the deep fed not only on their weaker neighbours, 
but sometimes even on the smaller defenceless individuals 
of their own species; for Dr. Buckland found in one of 
these stones a joint of the back-bone of an ichthyosaurus 
that must have been at least four feet in length. He 
has called the stones coprolites, from kopros, Greek for 
dung, and li/hos, a stone. Since his attention was 
directed to the subject, he has found similar bodies in 
many other strata, and belonging to different animals. 
‘¢ Tn all these various formations,” he says, ‘ the copro- 
lites form records of warfare waged by successive gene- 
rations of inhabitants of our planet on one another; and 
the general law of nature, which bids all to eat and to be 
eaten in their turn, is shown to have been co-extensive 
with animal existence upon our globe, the carnivora in 
each period of the world’s history fulfilling their des- 
tined office to check excess in the progress of life, und 
maintain the balance of creation.” 


Before proceeding to speak of the more remarkable 
forms of organic life preserved in the tertiary strata, or 
those which lie superior to the chalk, we shall, in our 
next section, give a brief account of the Fossil Flora of 
the older sedimentary deposits of those remains of the 
vecetable kingdom which are found throughout thre 
whole of the secondary strata, and, in some of them, in 
vast accumulations. 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—MARCO POLO.— 
( Conclusion.) 

The dramatic scenes and adventures of our old tra- 
veller’s life were not destined to end with his return to 
Venice. On the arrival of the Poli there, they found 
that their fellow-citizens had long numbered them with 
the dead; and their mansion was in the occupation of 
some distant relations, who were long before they could 
recognize, after so many years absence, the returned 
travellers as members of the Polo family. ‘To make 
themselves known to their forgetful relations, and at 
the same time to impress all Venice with a proper no- 
tion of their identity, wealth and importance, the Poll 
eave a magnificent entertainment in their own house. 
When the numerous guests were assembled, the three 
travellers entered, clothed in long robes of crimson satin. 
When water had been carried round for the washing of 
hands, and the guests shown to their seats, they changed 
these costly vestments for similar ones of crimson 
damask; these again they changed after the first course 
had been removed, for robes of crimson velvet; and at 
the conclusion of the banquet they doffed their velvet, and 
appeared in such plain suits as were worn by the gentle- 
men of Venice. ‘I'he robes of satin, of damask, and of 
velvet, were taken to pieces and their materials distributed 
among the attendants. Then, when the dinner-table 
had been uncovered, and the domestics ordered to retire, 
Marco proceeded to an inner apartment, and presently 
returned with the three coarse fhread-bare garments 
in which they were clad when they first sought admit- 
tance into their own house. ‘They ripped open the seams, 
linings, and patches of these humble dresses, and 
brought to view such a quantity of diamonds and other 
precious stones as dazzled both the eyes and the imagina- 
tion of the beholders. At the display of such inealcu- 
lable wealth the company was at once convinced that 
these were indeed “the honourable and valiant gentle- 
men of the house of Polo,”—all doubts vanished, and 
the hosts were treated with profound respect. 


359 THE PENNY 

Not many months of tranquillity had, however, 
elapsed, when an hostile Gencese fleet, commanded 
by Lampa Doria, threatened some of the Venetian 
possessions on the opposite coast of Dalmatia. Lhe 
ealleys at Venice immediately put to sea under the or- 
ders of Andrea Dandolo; and the adventurous Marco, as 
a patriotic citizen, and an experienced seaman, took the 
command of one of them. The fleets soon met: Marco 
foremost of the advanced division, gallantly , threw 
himself among the enemy; but he was not. properly 
supported by his countrymen, and after receiving a 
wound, was obliged to surrender to the Genoese. ‘he 
Venetians were defeated with great loss, and besides 
Marco Polo, Andrea Dandolo their admiral was amone 
the number of prisoners taken by Doria. 

From the Dalmatian coast Marco was carried to a 
prison in Genoa; but his fame had probably preceded 
him thither, and, as soon as he was personally known, 
he received every possible respect ana attention, having 
all his wants liberally supplied, and the place of lus 
detention, instead of a solitary and wearisome confine- 
ment, being daily crowded by the gentlemen of Genoa, 
who were as curious as those of Venice. Here, tired, as 
it is said, by being obliged so frequently to repeat the 
same stories, he first determined to follow the advice of 
those who urgently recommended Inm to commit his 
travels and adventures to writing. Accordingly he pro- 
cured from his father at Venice all the notes he (Marco) 
had made on his different journeys. J‘rom these ori- 
ginal documents, and from verbal additions to them, 
Rustighello or Rustigielo, a gentleman in the Venetian 
service, who was in the daily habit of passing many hours 
with him, drew up the narrative in Marcos prison, 
The manuscript is supposed to have been finished and 
circulated in the year 1298. . 

Marco's captivity deeply afflicted his father and uncle, 
whose fondest hopes were to see him suitably married 
at Venice, and become the father of sons who should 
continue the name and inherit the wealth they had 
accumulated. They petitioned and offered large sums 
of money to the Genoese for his liberation, in vain. 
it was not till after a lapse of four years, in consequence 
of the exertions in his favour of the noblemen and 
indeed of the whole city of Genoa, that Marco obtained 
his liberty and returned to Venice. He then married, 
and had two daughters. 

When Nicolo died full of years and honours, his pious 
and affectionate son erected a stately monument to his 
memory ‘* under the Portico in front of the church of 5t. 
Lorenzo, upon the right-hand side as you enter.*” 
Ramusio, who wrote about the middle of the sixteenth | 
century, says that this monument was still to be seen 
there. When Marco himself was eathered to his fathers 
cannot be precisely ascertained, but his ‘“ last will and 
testament” bears the date of 1823; and he probably 
died shortly after, at the good age of seventy years. 
According to Sansovino, Marco also lad a tomb under 
the portico of the church of St. Lorenzo. At present 
neither the tomb of Nicolo nor that of Marco can be 
found in Venice. 

People did not wait for the death of Marco Polo to 
question his veracity, and to treat the narrative of his 
traveis with ridicule. Even in his native city, and not 
long afier his return, he was nicknamed ‘‘ Marco Mi- 
lione,” (Mark Million +,) from his frequent use of that 
high numerical term in speaking of the immense popu- 
lation and the revenues of the Tartar-Chinese empire. 
it is also reported that when he lay on his deathbed, 
some of his scrupulous friends entreated him, as a 
matter of conscietice, to retract such of his statements 

* Ramusio. ‘Whe church of San Lorenzo stood on one of the 
islets of Veuice called ** | Gemelli” or “ The Twins.” 


‘at W hen Ramusio wrote, the house at Venice where Marco had 
lived was sul called © La Corte ded Milione,” ‘ 


MAGAZINE. [SerTeMBER 7) 
as appeared to them fictitious ; and it is added that the 
old traveller indignantly rejected their advice, protesting 
that, instead of exceeding the truth, he had not told half 
of the extraordinary things he had seen with his own 
eyes. But after his death he was treated with still 
ereater disrespect by an ignorant populace. In the 
masquerades during the Carnival the Venetians always 
had for one character a “ Marco Mihone,” and this 
buffoon amused the mob by telling whatever extravagant 
tale came into his head. When Marco wrote, Italy was 
far from having recovered from the losses she sustained 
at the dissolution of the Roman empire ; her population, 
moreover, was divided into a number of paltry states ;— 
thé very recollection of what had been the extent of the 
empire of which they once formed part seems to have 


been forgotten, and people turned with doubt from the 


traveller’s account of the hundreds of cities, and millions 
of inhabitants, in China. ‘The exaggerations of fear 
aud hatred had represented the Tartar tribes that lad 
overrun a good part of the western as well as the eastern 
world as little superior to wild beasts: how then conld 
they believe that this very race, in Tartary and China, 
were highly civilized, living under a regular government, 
having magnificent cities, manufactures, and a commerce 
compared to which that of Vemce (then the most con- 
siderable in Kurope) sank into utter insignificance ? 

Narco Polo had also the misfortune to write lone 
before the use of printing; and during a century or 
more, the manuscript copies made of lits work were 
liable to all the errors of careless and ignorant tran- 
scribers. He was afterwards translated into different 
Kuropean languages by those who were evidently ill 
acquainted with the idiom in which his Travels were 
written*, and lamentably ignorant of geography and 
the physical sciences. ‘These translations were again 
translated and errors heaped upon errors. ‘Thus, in 
English, Hakluyt, who was one of our earliest collec- 
tors of travels, gave an account of Marco Polo's from 
al incorrect Latin version he had somewhere picked up; 
‘‘and here,” as Purchas says, “‘ the corrupt Latin 
could not but yield a corruption of truth in Enelish.” 

At last, in 1559, more than two centuries after Marco’s 
death, something approaching to justice was done him 
by his countryman Ramiusio, who published a corrected 
Italian version of his uarrative, in the second volume of 
his Collection of Travels, Purchas nsed this translation, 
aud made Marco Polo more popular in England f. 
Robertson, Gibbon, and Vincent, also preferred Ramu- 
si0 to all other editors aud translators. Numerous other 
editions and translations continued to be made in dif- 
ferent parts of Europe; but it was not till 1818 that full 
justice was done to Marco Polo by our countryman Mr. 
William Marsden, whose book (then first published) is 
altogether one of the most remarkable that have been 
produced in our dayst. ‘This volume contains the 
results of many years of labour cevoted to the task of 
validating the authority of the old traveller ; and from the 
mass of evidence thus collected, has established beyond 
a doubt that the lone-calumniated Venetian is most 
remarkably correct wheuever ‘ st dice,” or ‘ it is said,” 
is not introduced. When these words occur, Marco is 
ouly telhng what was told to him, and must, as we have 
before said, be listened to with reservation. By this 
remarkable volume (to use a favourite oriental idioin) 
the face of Marco Polo has been whitened. 

* This appears to have been the Venetian dialect, which was 
very different then, as it is now, from the Tuscan, or literary lan- 
guage of Italy, 

+ Purchas published his Collection of Travels in the beginning 
of the seventeenth century. 

+ “ The Travels of Marco Polo, a Venetian, in the thirteenth 
century: being a Description, by that Early Traveller, of Remark- 
able Places and Things in the Hastern Parts of the World. ‘Trans. 
lated from the Itahan, with Notes, by Wilham Marsden, F.R.5., 
&c, London, 1815," 


PRO SORT TOE LE SSeS, 


1833. ] 


FATA MORGANA, IN THE BAY OF 
REGGIO, — 


ReGGro is a considerable town in Calabria, most beauti.- 
fully situated on the Faro, or Strait, of Messina, which 
separates Italy from the island of Sicily, and has at that 
point the appearance of a majestic river, Lhe neigh- 
bonrhood is rich in choice and most varied productions ; 
continuons groves of orange, leon, and citron trees 
extend for several miles on either ae the town, which 
is backed by a grand range of mountains, whence de- 
sceud numerous rivulets that refresh and fertilize the 
soil. The Sicilian shores, with the fair city of Messina 
and numerous white villages, and mountains of the most 
picturesque forms in the distance, face this terminating 
point of Calabria. The dark-blue sea, which flows 
through the narrow cliaunel with a rapid current, 
purifies the air and causes a gentle refreshing breeze 
that rarely fails, and is felt most deliciously during the 
summer heats. 

“Do you know,’ says Brydone to his correspondent, 
‘ that the most extraordinary phenomenon in the world 
is often observed near to this place? * 4 “4 
It has often been remarked, both by ancients and 
moderns, that in the heat of summer, and after the sea 
and air have been greatly agitated by winds, and a per- 
fect calm succeeds, there appears about the time of dawn, 
in that part of the heavens over the straits, a vast variety 
of singular forms, some at rest, and some moving about 
with great velocity. These forms, in proportion as the 
lie ht 3 increases, seem to become more aérial ; till at last, 
some time before sunrise, they entirely disappear *.” 

The phenomenon which the traveller here rather 
incorrectly describes, is called the Fa ata Morg oana, or the 
Fairy Morgana; a name not altogether’ inappropriate, 
when we ‘consider the magical, fairy- “like effects produced. 
After © saying that the philosophers of the country 
were puzzled to account for the causes of these effects, 
Brydone continues, “ Some of them think they may be 
owing to some incommon refraction or reflection of the 
rays from the water of the straiis ; which, as it is at that 
time carried about in a yariely of eddies and vortexes, 
must of consequence, say they, make a, variety of appear- 
ances on any medium where it 1s reflected.” From this 
reasoning, which is not very “satisfactory, the traveller 
dissents, ‘and proposes a theory of his own. He thinks 
the phenomenon ‘ ‘somewhat of the nature of the aurora 
borealis, and dependent on electric causes. ‘* Electrical 
vapour, ’ says he, “ in this country of volcanoes is pro- 
duced in much oreater quantities than elsewhere. ‘Ihe 
alr being strongly impreguated with this matter, and 
Borifined™ between two ridges of mountains, at the saine 
time exceedingly agitated from below by the > violenc e of 
the current and impetuous whirling of (he waters, may 
it not be supposed to produce a yv aviety of appearances ?” 
This mode of accounting for the phenomenon is very 
vague; nor are Mazzi, Angelncct, and other native 
writers, much clearer. They say that to produce the 
effect a dead calm is necessary ; that the motion of the 
curreut In the straits must cease, and the waters rise 
above their ordinary level; that this must take place at a 
time of the day when all the objects on the shore are re- 
flected in colossal forms in the sea; that then the undu- 
lating changes of this marine mirror, cut into facets, 
repeat ina thousand different shapes all those images ; 
und if the air be at the same time charged with electric 
matter, these ‘multiplied objects are ‘reflected in the air 
also. 

A more scientific explanation was attempted in 1773 
by Antonio Minasi, 
readers that he saw the plenomenon three several times, 
and so beautiful was it, that he would rather behold it 
again than the most superb theatrical exhibition in the 


* Travels in Sicily. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


a Dominican friar, who informs his | 


351 


world. The friar says, “ When the risiu@ sun shines 
from that point whence its incident ray forms an anole 
of about 45° on the sea of Reggio, and the bright surface 
of the water in the bay is uot disturbed either by the 
wind or the current, the spectator being placed on an 
eminence of the city, with his back to the sun and his 
iace to the sea—on a sudden he sees appear in the water, 
as ina catoptric theatre, various multiplied objects, @. e. 
numberless series of pilasters, arches, castles well delj- 
neated, regular columns, lofty towers, superb palaces 
with Buldonids and windows, extended alleys of trees, 
delightful plains with herds and flocks, &c., all in their 
natural colours and proper action, and passing’ rapidly 
In succession along the surface of the sea, during the 
whole short period of time that the above-mentioned 
causes remain. But if, in addition to the circumstances 
before described, the atmosphere be high iy impregnated 
with vapour and exhalatious not dispersed by the wind 
nor rarefied by the sun, it then happens that in this 
Vapour, as in a curtain extended along the channel to 
the height of about thirty palms and nearly down to the 
sea, the observer will behold the scene of the same ob- 
jects not only reflected from the surface of the sea, but 
likewise in the air, though not in so distinct and defined 
a manner as in the sea. And again, if the air be slightly 
hazy and opaque, and at the same time dewy and adapted 
to form the iris, then the objects will appear only at the 
surface of the sea, but they will be all vividly coloured or 
fringed with red, green, blue, and the other prismatic 
colours.” 

“The singular effect Jast alluded to will be compre- 
hended by z a glance at our cut ; and the reader will per- 
ceive, that as the rigging of the ship there is surrounded 
by the fringe, the beautiful rainbow colours attach to di- 
rect rays from objects as well as to the reflections of 
objects. When this phenomenon, which is of r rare occur- 
rence, makes its appearance, the people hail it with ex- 
ultation and j joy, running down to the sea side, clapping 
their hands ‘and exclaiming, “ Morgana! Morgana’! 
Fata Morgana!” “Phe Dominican, in his explanation, 
says, the sea in the Strait of Messina hes the appear- 
ance of a large inclined speculum ; that in the alternate 
current which flows and returns in the channel for six 
hours each way, and is constantly attended by an oppo- 
site current along shore to the medium distance of about 

a mile and a half there are many eddies and irregulari- 
ties, especially at the time of its change of direction ; 
and that the Fata Morgana usually appears at this 
period. He then shows what must be the relative po- 
sition of the sun and moon, necessary to afford high 
water at the proper time after sunrise, to meet the other 
peculiar circumstances necessary for the formation of the 
peantitul t and eva anescent vision. 
the Fata _ oe al an cas of 7 te of 
the sea, and its subdivision into different planes by the 
contrary eddies. The aériai reflections he refers to the 
influence of saline and other efluvia suspended in the 
me but here his reasoning is far from being prodnetive 
of any clear statement. Ife asserts, however, (what, 
indeed, the reason of our readers would suggest ,) that all 
the objects exhibited in the Fata Morgana are derived 
from real objects onshore reflected in alls senses, magnified, 
mingled, and multiplied without end, 

A writer in Nicholson’s ‘* Journal of Science,” who 
first made the Dominican’s dissertation known in this 
country, derives from his account,—that by the form 
and situation of the Faro of Messina, the current from 
tlie south, at thie expiration of which the phenomenon is 
most likely to appear, Is so far impeded by the feure of 
the land, that a considerable portion of the water Teturhs 
along shore ;—that it is probable the same coasts may 
have a tendency to modify the lower portion of air in a 
similar manner during the southern breezes, or that a 


352 THE PENNY 
sort of basin is formed by the land, in which the lower 
air is disposed to become calm and motionless ;—that 
the Morgana presents inverted images beneath the real 
objects, and that these inverted images are multiplied 
laterally as well as vertically ;—that in the aérial Mor- 
cana, or vision in the air, the objects are not inverted, 
but more elevated than the original objects on shore ;— 
that the fringes of prismatic colours are produced in 
falling vapours, and to be explained by the priuciples of 
refraction ;—that it seems more probable that these ma- 
gical appearances are produced by a calm sea, and one 
or more strata of superincumbent air, differing in refrac- 
tive aud consequently reflective power, than from any 
considerable change (as fancied by the Friar) in the sur- 
face of the water, with the laws of which we are much 
better acquainted than with those of the atmosphere ;— : 





aa" 





MAGAZINE. [SepremBeER 7, 1833. 
that the polished surface of the water may account for 
the vertical repetitions; but for the lateral multiplications, 
recourse must be had to reflecting or refracting planes 
in the vapour, which appear as difficult to establish as 
those which have been supposed in the water. 

It will be felt, from what has been said, that though 
the phenomenon may be referred to natural causes, some 
difficulty still exists as to the modes in which some of 
the effects are produced. This ought not to surprise us, 
when we reflect that the Fata Morgana in 1ts more 
perfect state—or when the vision 1s represented both in 
air and water—is of rare occurrence and of very short 
duration, and that the inhabitants of the particular spot 
where it occurs are not much given to the study of 
natural philosophy. 


——— 
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er 
Soe 
————_—_—_ 
ee ere 
EE 
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Senate ane 
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Kifects of the Fata Morgana. | 





The Pestilent Erystpelas.—Sauvages, (a French physician 
and botanist, who died in 1767,) under the head of E7yyse- 
nelas pesitlens, arranges the fatal epidemic disease, which 
prevailed extensively in the early and dark ages, as the se- 
quel of war and famine, and which has received a variety of 
denominations; such as zgnits sacer, ignis Sit. Anthonia, 
mal des ardens, ergot, kriebel-krankheit, &c. &c., according 
to the various modifications and degrees of severity, or ac- 
cording to the supposed cause of it. The erysipelatous red- 
ness, however, followed by the dry gangrene, which often 
destroyed the limbs joint by joint, was only one of the forms 
or stages of that disease; as the contracted and palsied state 
to which the ancients gave the name of sceloturbe, consti- 
tuted another. Instead of originating from eating rye 
affected with the ergot, as was supposed in France, or barley 
with which the raphanus was mixed, as was imagined in 
sweden, the disease was, doubtless, the result of deficient 
nourishment,—a severe land-scurvy, which was a great 
scourge of the ancient world, and often denominated pesti- 


tence. The name of St. Anthony seems to have been first 
associatea with an epidemic disease of this kind, which pre- 
vailed in Dauphiné about the end of the twelfth century. 
An abbey, dedicated to that saint, had recently been 
founded at Vienne, in that province, where his bones were 
deposited ; and it was a popular opinion, in that and the 
succeeding century, that all the patients who were conveyed 
to this abbey were cured in a space of seven or nine days; 
a circuinstance, which the ample supply of food in those 
religious houses may probably satisfactorily explain.— Bate- 
man on Cutaneous Diseases. 





*.* The Office of the poo 


by for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
vd, 


incoln’s Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
AND 138, PALL-MALL EAST. 





Printed by Wittiam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [SEPTEMBER 14, 1833. 





ST. PETER'S.—No, 1. 


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[ View of St. Peter's from the East, above the Bridge of St. Angelo.] 


Tue historian Gibbon, after alluding to the many 
beautiful edifices that adorn the ancient capital of the 
world, exclaims, ‘* but these lesser stars are eclipsed by 
the sun of the Vatican, by the dome of St. Peter’s—the 
most glorious structure that ever has been applied to 
the use of religion ! ” 

“ This temple,” says Count Stolberg, “ is the largest 
and most magnificent on earth !—the square before it 
is worthy of the temple; the temple of the square—each 
in its kind is the most magnificent in the world. No 
ae of man ever seized upon and filled my mind like 
this.” : 

These feelings of enthusiastic admiration are common 
to every person of taste that has visited this triumph of 
architecture and Italian genius, and rich and beautiful 
extracts might be made from writers cf all countries who 
have paid their tribute to 


——_———The vast and wondrous dome 
Yo which Diana’s temple was a cell *, 


It is this towering dome or cupola which mainly gives 
St. Peter’s its sublimity, and blinds even the severe 
architectural critic to many technical defects which are 
undeniably involved in the structure of the whole. 

The dome of the Pantheon, an ancient Roman edifice, 


* Lord Byron’s “ Childe Harold,” canto iv. The temple of 
= of Ephesus, the wonder of the ancient world, is alluded to, 
oL. II, 


still in a state of almost perfect preservation, had fur 
many ages excited the wonder and admiration of man- 
kind, and this Bramante, the first planner of St. Peter’s, 
would have imitated in the modern church. But the 
dome of the Pantheon rested on columns and attained 
no striking elevation. ‘“ A similar cupola,” said Michel 
Angelo with the confidence of genius, “ will I raise in 
the air!” And this was done by constructing walls 
sufficiently strong to sustain the enormous weight. 

In whatever direction the traveller approaches Rome, 
he sees the sublime dome towering into the blue heavens, 
It seems to invite him from afar, and increases the im- 
patience which all must feel on a first visit, to arrive at 
the eternal city. 

Like our own St. Paul’s, but with the immense ad- 
vantage of being almost constantly seen through the 
medium of a pure transparent atmosphere, it forms a 
erand and conspicuous object in almost every distant 
view of the city of which it is the glorious crown. It may 
be seen from the hills of Baccano on the north—from 
the lower Apennines on the east—from the volcanic 
cidges of the Alban mount on the south—and from 
the mast-head of a ship in the Tyrrhene eulf of the 
Mediterranean on the west—and in all these views it 
rises up from the broad flat of the Campagna, in 
which the ‘* seven hills” and other elevations in the 
vicinage of Rome are of themselves ridges or breaks 


2Z 


B54 


scarcely more perceptible than a distant wave at sea. 
Tt seems to reign in solitary majesty over all the dead 
and for the most part uncultivated level which surrounds 
ihe city; and is, perhaps, never so impressive an object 
as when seen thence, particularly on the stated festivals, 
on the evenings of which it is suddenly, nay almost 
instantaneously, covered with a flood of light. The 
reader may conceive this effect by fancying the dome of 
St. Paul’s lighted up by innumerable lamps and torches ; 
but he must add, in the case of St. Peter’s, ‘‘ the deep 
blue sky of Rome,” without a cloud, without a vapour 
or wreath of smoke. 

In general opinion, however, it appears to most ad- 
vantage from elevated points within or near the city, 
where other objects can be brought into comparison 
with it. ‘he tower of the Capitol, the front of the 
Quirinal palace, the bridge of St. Angelo, and the fields 
behind St. Peter’s in the direction of the Villa Pampili 
Doria, are all fine points of view; but the best of these 
near points is that from the public walks on the Pincian 
Hill, and the best moment for enjoying it is towards sun- 
set on a summer evening, as the dark mass then pro- 
jects a bold and graceful outline against the bright 
western sky, and the horizontal rays of the sun pierce 
through and brilliantly illuminate the windows of the 
lantern under the cupola, thus producing a truly magical 
effect. It is here and on the bridge of St. Angelo that 
the people of Rome chiefly resort on the creat festivals, 
when the cupola is illuminated. This splendid exhibi- 
tion occurs on the eve, and on the evening of St. Peter's 
day, and on the anniversary evening of the reigmug 
pope’s election. At one hour of the night, in Italian 
time, or an hour after sun-set, rather from the iminense 
number of. hands employed than from any ingenious 
mechanical contrivance, the dome is converted into an 
hemisphere of: liquid light, and this, as we have said, 
almost instantaneously. 

On a still nearer view, or one taken from the piazza 
or square of St. Peter’s, though the temple itself loses 
from the heavy, awkward structure of the front, which 
more than half hides the cupola while it is out of har- 
mony with the general form of the chnrch, yet the scene, 
from its accessories, is one of imposing sublimity. 
Instead of being cooped up like St. Paul's, St. Peter's 
there presents itself as the back-ground of a noble and 
spacious amphitheatre formed by a splendid elliptical 
colonnade of a quadruple range of nearly three hundred 
pillars. | 

A beautiful Egyptian obelisk which had once adorned 
the centre of the circus of Nero, and still remained 
standing on its original site, was removed by Domenico 
Fontana, one of the architects of 5t. Peter's, to this 
piazza or square, which was further beautified by two 
magnificent fountains, each consisting of an immense 
basin nearly thirty feet in diameter at the level of the 
pavement, with a stem springing out of the centre sup- 
porting two diminishing granite basins at different 
heichts, and raising itself to a height of upwards of fifty 
feet. From the summit of each of these stems or shafts 
oushes and sparkles a torrent of water, the central jets 
of which rise to nearly seventy feet from the pavement 
in perpendicular height, and thence the water falis in a 
triple cataract from the summit of the jets into the upper, 
which is the smallest vase or basin,—then, passing over 
the rims of this upper basin in an enlarged column, 
it descends into the second basin, from which, in still 
ereater volume, it drops into the lowest,—the largest 
basin of the three,—thus producing the beautiful effect 
of a cone of falling water. 

The quantity of water thus in continual play is so 
great that the materials of the fountains are completely 
enveloped and hidden from view, though of course, owing 
to the translucency of the fluid, the general form of the 
fountains js obvious enough, The copious supply. of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Sepremper 14, 


water is brought by an ancient Roman aqueduct from 
the Lake of Bracciano, about seventeen miles from 
Rome. 

The effect of these fountains is striking and beantiful 
beyond description, and unlike the mere water-works in 
the grounds of the French palace at Versailles, which 
are only made to play on grand occasions, their flow is 
perpetual and undiminished. 

The grand colonnades of the piazza * are met at their 
western extremity by enclosed corridors which lead by an 
inclined plane up to the ends of the trausverse corridors 
which join on to the vestibule of the church itself. ‘These 
last form throughout a range of four hundred and 
eichty feet in length. At one of their extremities an 
equestrian and colossal statue of Constantine the Great 
stands in a niche, and a similar statue of Charlemagne 
occupies a corresponding niche at the other extremity. 

Five portals, two of which are, however, comparatively 
diminutive, give access to the vestibule ; and opposite to 
these portals five door-ways open to the interior of the 
wonderful temple. The doors are covered with bronze, 
which is worked into bassi-rilievi of great beauty. 

Such are the principal features of the exterior of 


St. Peter’s. 
: {To be continued. | 





FLAYING ESTABLISHMENT AT MONTFAUCON. 


A TRANSLATION into German has been made of Mr. 
Babbage’s late work, “ The Economy of Machi- 
nery and Manufactures,’ to which the translator has 
added some valuable notes. One of them contains an 
extract from a paper read by Professor Burdach to the 
Physico-Economical Society of Kénigsberg, on what is 
called the Flaying Establishment at Montfaucon, near 
Paris. This is probably the most curious example in 
the world of the manner in which materials, which are 
commonly thrown away, and scarcely even pay the cost 
of removing them, may be turned to profit. ‘There are, 
no doubt, many other substances as well as the bones, 
flesh, aud entrails of dead horses, which are daily 
allowed to run to waste in great quantities, and which, 
in like manner, under judicious and systematic manage- 
ment, and by the application of processes familiar to the 
preseut advanced state of the arts, might be saved aud 
converted to important uses, The present acconnt may 
serve aS an illustration and indication of how this might 
be done. - : 

The first person who instituted an establishment 
on a considerable scale for the profitable employment 
of what are commonly regarded as the waste parts 
of dead animals, was the son of the celebrated Cadel 
de Vaux. This was in the year 1816. Another 
chemist, named Fouques, also about the same time 
carried on aimanufactory for the preparation of various 
soups and other sorts of food for beasts, from the flesh, 
bones, and entrails of animals that had died or been put 
to death as useless. But at present the principal esta- 
blishments of this description are the two at Montfaucon, 
on the high ground to the north of Paris; where the 


business is confined to the flaying and profitable pre- 


servation of the parts of dead horses. One of these 
establishments belongs to a M. Dussaussais, and the 
other to a company. Some of the horses are dead when 
they are received,—others are brought to be killed on the 
spot. ‘They then undergo the following processes :-—— 
Ist. First, the hair of the mane and tail is cut off 
As, however, the long hair used for weaving of clotli 1s 
commonly wanting, the produce is but small, and will 
barely exceed a quarter of a pound of horse-hair, a pound 
* Jt is curious how the people of London have reversed the 
meaning of the word piazza, which ought to be pronounced piatza. 


In Covent Garden, the only place where it is applied, the open 
square occupied by the market ought to be called the piazza, and 


not the colonnade which runs round part of it 


@ 


it) 


1833.] 


of which is sold for about five pence English. The pro- 
duce of one horse, in this particular, is therefore about 
cne penny. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


2nd. ‘The skin is now taken off, laid together, and. 


sold, while fresh, to the tanners in the neighbourhood. 
It weighs in general about sixty pounds, and sells for 
from nine to twelve shillings English. 

3rd. The blood is allowed to run to waste, and to 
flow on the ground, a circumstance which creatly in- 
creases the horrible filth at Montfancon. If it were 


collected in gutters, it might be used either as food for | 


ealttle or as manure, and a cruor prepared from it for 
su@ar-refiners, who pay for blood, so prepared, about 
two shillines and five pence the cwt. 

4th. The shoes are taken off and sold as horse-shoes, 
if still good enough, or, if not, as old iron. The nails, 
likewise, are collected and sold, more particularly in the 
provincial towns. ‘The profit from this source is about 
two pence per horse. 7 

5th. The feet are cut off, dried, and then beaten on a 
hard surface, in order to detach the hoofs; or, in winter, 
they are left in heaps to putrefy, until the hoofs become 
loose. ‘The hoofs are sold to turners, comb-makers, and 
manufacturers of sal-ammoniac and prussian-biue, who 
pay for them, if they are rasped, about one shilling and 
five pence. 

6th. The fat is very carefully collected. First, that 
upon and between the muscles is separated; then the 
muscles are laid single on the table, and every little bit 
of fat picked out; and, finally, that of the entrails is 
detached. The collected fat is cut into small pieces and 
melted. Horse-fat is used for burning in a flame by 
enamellers and elass-toy makers. It is also used to 
grease harnesses, shoe-leather, &c. Soap is manu- 
factured from it; and it produces gas for lighting. The 
pound is sold for five pence three farthings. <A horse 
yields, on an average, eight pounds, worth about four 
shillings; well-fed horses will yield, however, as much 
almost as sixty pounds, bringing therefore nearly thirty 
shillings. 

7th. The flesh is used for food by the workmen, who 
choose the best pieces for themselves, and leave the rest 
to dogs, cats, hogs, and poultry. The feeding of the 
workmen, however, with the flesh of such as have been 
killed, is a part of the system of economy that could not 
be practised in this country. Many circumstances show 
that a large number of the people of France resort to 
expedients for food which would be revolting to an 
Euelishman. ‘The flesh is used likewise as manure, and 
in the manufacture of prussian blue. A horse has from 
three hundred to four hundred pounds of flesh, which 
yields in this way a profit of from thirty to near forty 
shillings. 

8th. The sinews or tendons being separated from the 
muscles, the smaller ones are sold fresh to the glue- 
makers, and the larger dried and disposed of in great 
quantities for the same purpose. <A horse yields about 
one pound of dried tendons, worth twopence three 
furthings. 

9th. Of the bones nearly three hundred and fifty 
thousand pounds are annually sold: the remainder serves 
for fuel, and chiefly for melting the fat. A considerable 
quantity is sold to cutlers, fan-makers, and other work- 
men who use bones; but more to the manufacturers of 
sal-ammoniac and ivory-black. The pound of bones sells 
for about a farthing English; and as a single horse pro- 
duces ninety pounds of bones, the profit is about one 
shillme@ and eleven pence. ‘The bones would, however, 
yield much more if they were ground in mills as is 
done in Auvergne and Strasburg ; for the ewt. of bone- 
meal. an excellent manure, fetches nearly seven shillings 
and sixpence, 

10th, The small euts are wrought into coarse strings 


Ld 


Pe 


355 


for lathes, &c. ‘The other entrails are piled up and sold 
in a state of pntrefaction as manure. A two-horse load 
brings from four shillings and sixpence to nine shil- 
lings. 

Lith. Even the maggots, which breed in creat num- 
bers in the putrid refuse, are not lost. Small pieces of 
flesh and entrails, to the height cf about half a foot. and 
slightly covered with straw, are piled up inthe sun. The 
flies, attracted immediately, deposit their eges in these, 
and, in a few days’ time, the whole becomes a living 
mass, the putrefying substance being rednced to a very 
small quantity. The maggots are sold by measuie, 
partly as baits for fishing, but chiefly as food for fowls 
aud pheasants. ‘The entrails of a single horse venerate 
these maggots in such plenty as to yield a profit of 
nearly one shilling and sixpence. Many, besides, are 
metamorphosed into the musca carnaria, cesar, and vivi- 
para, so that there are, at Montfaucon, ereat swarms of 
these flies, which again attract vast multitudes of swal- 
lows, and make the neighbourhood of Montfaucon the 
favourite shooting-ground of the Parisian  sports- 
men. 

12th. The rats at Montfaucon play a part equally 
Important. As these animals find here abundance of 
food, and’ the females bring forth every year from twelve 
to eighteem young, there is an innumerable host of them 
in the place. Sixteen thousand have been killed in four 
weeks in the same room, without any decrease being 
perceived... ‘hey undermine the walls, so that the 
bmidings give way, and can be secured only by sur- 
rounding the foundations with broken ¢lass. ‘The whole 
neighbourhood las been excavated by them to such a 
degree that the ground shakes beneath your feet. They 
are caught by placing the fresh carcass of a horse alone 
In an apartment, the walls of which have openings at 
the bottom. The uext morning these holes are stopped, 
and all the rats killed; their skins are then sold at three 
shillings per hundred. 

In this manner we see, that the various parts of a dead 
horse, converted into articles of trade and consumption, 
yield, according to a calculation which has been made, 
when of middling quality, two pounds thirteen shillings, 
and when very superior, nearly five pounds. A dead 
horse is bought at first for from nine shillings to thirteen 
shillings and sixpence,—to which add from four shillings 
and sixpence to six shillings as wages for the collector 
and labourers ; stil! there remains a profit of about thirty- 
six shillings to the establishment. Now, according to 
the statement of M. Parent Duchatelet, there are thirty- 
five horses, on an average, every day, or twelve thousand 
seven hundred and seventy-five every year, brought 
to Montfaucon from Paris and the surrounding neigh- 
bourhood ;—this altogether affords a profit of about 
twenty-three thousand pounds sterling. 

As another evidence that substances which appear 
spent aud exhausted may sometimes still be rendered 
useful, we may mention in conclusion, that a Mr. Owen, 
a manufacturer of ivory-black at Copenhagen, has lately 
discovered a simple process by which to restore bone- 
black already used to its original value. ‘The result 
is so perfect, that the same stuff may be used over 
again a number of times. ‘This will be a great saving 
in the refining of sugar, and allow many bones to be 
preserved for other purposes. In no respect are 
the English people more wasteful than in the article 
of bones, 





Pursuit of Knowledge.—By looking into physical causes 
our minds are opened and enlarged ; and in this pursuit, 
whether we.take or whether we lose the game, the chase is 


certainly of service.—Burke, 





lt Tay 


356 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE OF 


CHAMOUNI. 


Hasr thou a charm to stay the Morning-star 
In his steep course? so long he seems to pause 
On thy bald, awful head, O sovran Blanc! 
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form, 
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 
How silently! Around thee, and above, 
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it 
As with a wedge! But when I look again, 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity !— 
O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 
Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer 
I worshipp’d the Invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody— 
So sweet we know not we are listening to it— 
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, 
Yea, with my life and life’s own secret joy: 
Till the dilating soul,—enrapt, transfused, 
Into the mighty vision passing—thure, 
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven; 


Awake, my soul! not only passive praise 
Thou owest—not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! 
Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn! 


Thou first and chief, sole Sovran of the Vale! 
O, struggling with the darkuess all the night, 
Aud visited all night by troops of stars, 

Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink: 
Companion of the Morning-star at dawn, 
Thyself earth’s rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald !—-wake, O wake, and utter praise ! 
Who sank thy ‘suuless pillars deep in earth ? 
Who fill’d thy countenance with rosy light ? 


Who made thee parent of perpetual streanis ? 


And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad! 
Who call'd you forth from night and utter death, 


From dark and icy caverns call’d you forth, 


Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 

For ever shattered and the same for ever ? 

Who pave you your invulnerable life, 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 
Unceasiny thunder and eternal foam? . 

And who commanded (and the silence came),— 
Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest ? 


Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mountain’s brow 
Adown enormous ravines slope amain— 
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 
And stopp’d at once amid their maddest plunge! 
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts ! 
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven, 
Beucath the keen fill moon? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with hving flowers 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ?— 
God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! 
God! sing, ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice! 
Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! 
And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow, 
And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God! 


Ye livery flowers that skirt th’ eternal frost ! 
Ye wild goats, sporting round the eagle’s nest! 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountaiu-storin ! 
Ye hightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! 
Ye signs and wonders of the element ! 

Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise! 


Once more, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 


Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 
Shoots downward, glittering thro’ the pure serene, 
Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast-— 
Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou, 
That as I raise my head, awhile bow’d low 

In adoration, upward from thy base, 

Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, 
Solemnly seemest, like a vapoury cloud, 

To rise before me.—Rise, O ever rise! 

Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! 
Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills! 
Thou dread ambassador from earth to Heaven! 
Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, 

And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God ! 


COLERIDGE» 


[SEPTEMBER 14; 


THE BURROWING-OWL AND PRAIRIE DOG. 


[The following interesting account of the burrowing-owl is abridged 
from the splendid continuation of Wilson’s “ American Birds,” 
by Charles Lucien Bonaparte. } 


VENERABLE ruins, crumbling under the influence of time 
and vicissitudes of season, are habitually associated with 
our recollections of the owl; or he is considered as the 
tenant of sombre forests, whose nocturnal gloom is ren- 
dered deeper and more awful by the harsh dissonance 
of his voice. In poetry he has long been regarded as 
the appropriate concomitant of darkness and horror. 
Bunt we are now to make the reader acquainted with an 
ow}! to which none of these associations can belong; a 
bird that, so far from seeking refuge in the ruined habi- 
tations of man, fixes its residence within the earth; and 
uistead of concealing itself in solitary recesses of the 
forest, delights to dwell on open plains, in company with 
animals remarkable for their social disposition, neatness, 
and order. Instead of sailing heavily forth in the ob- 
scurity of the evening or morning twilght,.and then 
retreating to mope away the intervening hours, our owl 
enjoys the broadest glare of the noon-tide sun, and flying 
rapidly along, searches for food or pleasure during the 
cheerful light of day. 

Iu the trans-Mississipian territories of the United 
States, the burrowing owl resides exclusively in the 
villages of the marmot or prairie dog, whose excavations 
are sO commodious as to render it unnecessary that our 
bird should dig for himself, as he 1s said to do in.other 
parts of the world, where no burrowing animals exist. 
hese villages are very numerous, and variable in their 
extent, sometimes covering only a few acres, and at 
others spreading over the surface of the country for miles 
together. ‘They are composed of shghtly-elevated mounds, 
having the form of a truncated cone, about two feet in 
width at base, and seldom rising as high as eighteen 
inches above the surface of the soil. The entrance is 
placed either at the top or on the side, and the whole 
mound is beaten down externally, especially at the sum. 
mit, resembling a much-used footpath. 

I'rom the entrance, the passage into the mound de- 
scends vertically for one or two feet, and is thence con- 
tinued obliquely downwards, until it terminates in an 
apartment, within which the industrious marmot con- 
structs, on the approach of the cold season, the comfort- 
able cell for his winter’s sleep. This cell, which is 
composed of fine dry grass, is globular in form, with an 
opening at top capable of admitting the finger ; and the 
whole is so firmly compacted, that 1t meght, without 
injury, be rolled over the floor... | 

It is delightful, during fine weather, to see these 
lively little creatures sporting about the entrance of their 
burrows, which are always kept in the neatest repair, 
and are ofien inhabited by several individuals. When 
alarmed, they immediately take refuge in their sub- 
terranean chambers; or, if the dreaded danger be not 
immediately impending, they stand near the brink of the 
entrance, bravely barking and flourishing their tails, or 
else sit erect to reconnoitre the movements of the 
ellemny. 

In all the prairie-dog villages the ourrowing-owl is 
seen moving briskly about, or else in small flocks 
scattered among the mounds, and ata distance it may be 
mistaken forthe marmot itself when sitting erect. They 
manifest but little timidity, and allow themselves to be 
approached sufficiently close for shooting ; but if alarmed, 
some or all of them soar away and settle down again at 
a short distance; if further disturbed, their flight is con- 
tinued until they are no longer in view, or they descend 
into their dwellings, whence they are difficult to dislodge. 

The burrows into which these owls have been seen tu 
descend, on the plains of the river Platte, where they 


fare most numerous, were evidently excavated by the 


1833.] 


marmot, whence it has been inferred by Say, that they 
were either common, though unfriendly residents of the 


same habitation, or that our owl was the sole occupant of 


a burrow acquired by the right of conquest. The 
evidence of this was clearly presented by the ruinous 
condition of the burrows tenanted by the owl, which 
were frequently caved in, and their sides channelled by 


the rains, while the neat and well-preserved mansion of 


the marmot showed the active care of a skilful and 
industrious owner. We have no evidence that the owl 
and marmot habitually resort to one burrow; yet we are 
weil assured by Pike, and others, that a common danger 
often drives them into the same excavation, where lizards 
and rattlesnakes also enter for concealment and safety. 


The owl observed by Viellot, in St. Domingo, digs itself 


a burrow two feet in depth, at the bottom of which its 


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ASCENT OF MOUNT ATNA. 


[In No. 86 we gave a narrative of the recent eruption of Mount 
Astna. The gentleman who favoured us with that description 
has furnished us with the following account of his previous 
ascent of the mountain. ] 


From what I have said about the eruption of 1832, you 
may perhaps feel an interest in hearing an account of a 
journey which I took up to the very summit of Etna, 
ouly fifteen months prior to this. All was then perfectly 
still, nor was it until I arrived at the top that any traces 
of recent fire were visible. It was in the middle of Au 
gust that I undertook this adventure. 


I started from Riposto, where I took measures for my 


journey. Being the height of summer, it was rather 
difficult to believe that, even in the regions of Etna, we 
could suffer from cold. However, as all travellers acreed 
that the cold of Etna was the most piercing they ever 
endured, I preferred their report to any of my own 


theories ; and it was well for me thatI did. A coud 


ews 


~~ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE.. 





| burrowing-Uwis and Prairie-Do 





357 


eggs are deposited on a bed of moss, herb-stalks, and 
dried roots. 


The note of our bird is strikingly similar to the cry of 
the marmot, which sounds like chek; cheh, pronounced 
several times in rapid successton; and were it not that 
the burrowing-owls of the West Indies, where no mar- 
mots exist, utter the same sound, it might be inferred, 
that the marmot was the unintentional tutor to the youns 
owl: vhis cry is only uttered as the bird begins its flight. 
The food of the bird we are describing appears to con- 
sist entirely of insects, as, on examination of its sto- 
mach, nothing but parts of their hard wing-cases were 
found. 

The figure of the burrowing-owl is copied from 
C. Bonaparte’s work, in which a representation of this 
singular bird was first given. 


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travelling roquelaure cloak, and a suit of winter clothing, 
which I put on at Nicolosi, were accordingly what I 
provided myself with. A gentleman of Riposto, at whose 
house I was kindly entertained, and who had several 
times before visited the mountain, accompanied me; 
which was a very fortunate circumstance, as I do not 
know any journey in which the company of one con- 
versant in the roads and mazes of the path is so advan- 
tageous, I might say necessary, as in this ; independent 
of our guide, whose sole business it is to show us our 
Way. 

We chose our time to a nicety. First, I had con- 
trived matters so that I might have the benefit of the 
moon, which was very nearly full; and although acci- 
dents seldom happen, from the careful manner in which 
the mules pick their way, in the thickest obscurity, among 
the roughest and vilest roads imaginable, yet, from what 
I saw, I cannot say that I should prefer to go up Etna 
in the dark, while it was possible to go in the light. And 


a 


358 


yet the day-time is inconvenient, as one of the great 
objects is to reach the summit at sunrise. Some ma- 
nage to get up to the “ English house,” as it is called, 
at sunset, sleep there, and proceed up the cone at twi- 
light the following morning. Against this plan I have 
heard very strong objections on the score of health. 
The * English house” is in a region of perpetual frost ; 
or at least where, if the heat of the sun in July and Au- 
gust thaw the snow during the day, the moment night 
comes on it again congeals. So sudden a transition 
from the plains to this has been productive of serious 
effects. To avoid this, we set out from Ripostc about 
mid-day. We got to Nicolosi about sunset. Here we 
took some refreshment and rest. The moon rising 
about ten oclock at night, we started, and kept on 
our way, halting a few minutes in the wood to give bait 
to our animals, and finally arriving at the English house 
an hour before sunrise. We put the mules into the 
stable, and proceeded on foot, reserving ourselves for 
breakfast on our return. 

Setting off from Riposto, the country over which we 
have to travel, to judge from its produetions, would 
consist of the richest soil I ever saw; and-this is the 
case where it is not covered by the lava, which has 
evidently remained many centuries, and upon which 
vegetation has partially returned. The way that ground 
destroyed by lava regenerates has been accounted 
for as follows: there are frequent flaws in it which 
attract the dust, which in course of time forms a shallow 
layer of earth, producing weeds, which, when rotted, 
become the means of attracting more soil. ‘The crevices 
and interstices are thus filled up with soil which is as 
rich as any other, and sometimes of great service; for 
the fibres of vines, and many other trees, the roots of 
which shoot deep into the earth, will be found to have 
entered these cracks or crannies, and there to have taken 
such a hold, that they cannot be torn up by heavy rains, 
or carried away by torrents. The time, however, re- 
quired for this must be at least several centuries. The 
whole of the road from Riposto to Nicolosi is over lava, 
in many places so compact as not yet to be serviceable ; 
but where there were plantations, none surely ever 
Icoked more beautiful and flourishing. 

The road to Nicolosi is certainly the worst I ever 
travelled over; nor do I see how it is likely to be mended. 
‘The rise, however, is so gradual up as high as Nicolosi, 
that you are quite insensible of it. 

Until our arrival at Nicolosi we were in our summer 
clothing. ‘The temperature there is certainly cooler, but 
not to any very considerable degree, and, I hear, it is 
seldom they are visited with snow. The vineyards, how- 
ever, do not continue mucli higher, for the woody region 
commences within three or four miles. I was here sur- 
prised to see none but large forest-trees, principally oak 
and eli, but no bushes or junele. I noticed this more 
particularly on my descent the following day, and that the 
ground was overspread with fern and long grass only. 
I also observed that every one of these trees (some of 
them noble ones) were rotten at the core. There is a 
great sameness in the road through the forest, which 
may be from six to eight miles across. his has a 
beautiful appearance in looking at AStna from a distance; 
a perfect ring being formed, which circumscribes it on 
all sides so exactly, that it much more resembles the 
work of art than of nature. The ascent became here 
considerably steeper, and before we had cleared the wood, 
we began to feel.the cold. We got into the desert region 
about one o’clock in the morning’. 

The desert region we found in every respect worthy 
of the name. Here was a dead void—not only neither 
tree nor shrub, but not a weed to give us a sign that we 
were poling over ground that liad ever been trod by man, 
or inhabited by the living, There was not even a bird 


to cross our path, The bat and the owl had never pro- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{SEPTEMBER 14, 


bably been here; and what must be the depth of a soli- 
tude shunned even by these? We saw before us near 
ten long miles of black uneven surface, never varying 
but from loose cinders to rough lava-stone. It was 
indeed a dreary road. Our horses’ hoofs rung with a 
melancholy sound on our ears. We spoke but little, 
and felt no inclination to converse. We wrapt our 
cloaks around us, and shut ourselves up in a “ shroud 
of thonghts.” This continued till we arrived at the 
‘Casa Inglese,” or English house, which is a hut useful 
to travellers who visit Adtna, standing at the foot of the 
cone, and most conveniently situated, inasmuch as the 
road at this part becomes so bad as to make it scarce 
passable for any animal. Visiters are obliged to dis- 
mount, and pick their way on foot, which they must do 
very carefully. We encountered a species of lava like 
nothing we before had passed. This resembled that 
substance which is thrown out of blacksmiths’ shops, 
vulearly called “ clinkers.” Our boots here suffered 
most wofully, nor do I think that the strongest would 
have lasted half a mile of snch a road. On arriving at 
the steep part of the cone, it was equally difficult, but 
less perilous. I should think that a fall wpon such 
eround as I have described must be dangerous in the 
extreme, for though one’s hands may be at liberty, 
they would but ill defend you. It was ten times more 
uneven than the deepest ploughed field I ever saw; and 
from the little purchase the foot has when it rests on 
the points of this lava, the difficulty of retaining one’s 
equipoise is greater than seems possible to those who 
have never been there. ‘The ground deceives you by 
not yielding to the pressure of the foot, as you cannot 
help expecting it to do every moment. If ever you 
saw a cat pick her way along a wall, the ridge of which 
is fortified with broken glass, you will bring it to 
remembrance, and think that my passage at this junc- 
ture was neither more agreeable nor easy: 

I can in some measure allow for the various and in- 
consistent accounts of this mountain which have been 
brought us by different travellers, all equally respectable 
1, point of veracity, and yet differing so widely in par- 
ticulars. livery eruption alters the face of things. 
Sometimes this change or this eruption is not visible ; 
for example, in the previous December a dull flame was 
descried at the mouth of the crater, barely seen from 
Catania ;—it only lasted three days, and was thought 
nothing of. ‘This we found had been an eruption, which 
had considerably altered the appearance of the crater, 
aud were surprised no one had named the circumstance, 
though it must have required one who had known the 
state it was in before to have perceived the change. 
Our guide led us up the side of the cone, which le was 
certain was the easiest of ascent. I had seen a picture 
taken from the spot, of travellers on the cone of Aitna, 
and observed at the time that it must have been greatly 
exaggerated, as it would not be possible to ascend what 
resembled a perpendicular rather than a slope. I now, 
however, found that the picture was too true. The 
fatigue here became immense. ‘Then there was a wind, 
which had all the bitterness of the winter wind in 
England, without any of that force aud buoyancy which 
the air has in the colder rezions, whilst the continual 
ascent made my legs and thighs ache intolerably. [ 
could not stop to rest, for I was always up to my knees 
in ashes, which underneath were quite warm, Or if not, 
it was because the surface of the ashes was supported 
by a bed of snow. Sometimes one leg was in snow and 
the other in warm ashes. All the pits are filled with 
snow. I felt my strength going sensibly, and notwith- 
stauding I had come all the way on purpose to visit the 
crater, I entirely eave up the task, and therefore, though 
not fifty yards from the mouth, began to descend. I 
thought, howeyer, though I could not go up I might go 
round the cone, and proceeded accordingly ; when, “on 





1833.] 


arriving at the south-western side of it, I found that the 
wall (Gf you may call it so) of the crater had been broken 
down by some recent violence, and that the way was open 
for us to enter, without either the difficulty of climbing up 
to the hiehest ridge or the danger of descending inside, 
an exploit which few travellers, however creat their thirst 
for knowledge, willingly perform. You may conceive 
my delieht on being able thus to view, without risk or 
trouble, the great phenomenon which so many a modern 
Pliny has come here for, and in vain. Had I had any 
conception [ should have been able to have explored the 
crater, as I certainly think I might, I would have arranged 
for it, and made some observations which I am not with- 
out hopes would have been serviceable to future travellers. 
As it was, I arrived there exhausted from travelling all 
night on horseback, among ruts and precipices, where I 
was afraid to close my eyes, and was so fatigued by the 
ineffectual attempt which I made to reach the summit 
on the wrong side that my legs trembled under me, 
while the rarity of the air increased my difficulty in 
breathing. I sat down, and could have slept, so com- 
pletely was I bereft of that ardour which had prompted 
me to undervo tlie toils of the journey. My regret is, 
that on finding such an opportunity for discovery I was 
not able to take advantage of it. 
{To be concluded in our next. ] 


THE RAINBOW. 


[The following reflections on this phenomenon are extracted from 
a work of considerable talent, Mr. Bucke’s “ Beauties, Harmo- 
mies, and Sublimities of Nature.” We have been favoured 
with the author’s corrections of the passage, as it is intended to 
appear in a third edition of his book, which is now preparing 
for the press. | 


THe poets feigned the rainbow to be the residence of: 


eertain aerial ereatures, whose delight it is to wanton in the 
elouds. Milton, in his exquisite pastoral drama, this 
alludes to this Platonie idea :— 

I took it for a fairy vision 

Of some gay creature in the clement, 

That in the colours of the rainbow live, 

And play 1’ th’ phghted clouds. 

The rainbow, which, not improbably, first suggested the 
idea of arehes, though beautiful in all countries, is more 
partieularly so im mountainous ones; for, independent of 
their frequency, it is impossible to coneeive any arch more 
grand Qi we except the double ring of Saturn) than when 
its extreme points rest upon the opposite sides of a wide 
valley, or on the peaked summits of precipitate mountains. 

One of the glories which are said to surround the throne 
of heaven is a rainbow like an emerald. In the Apoealypse 
it is deseribed as encircling the head of an angel; in Ezekiel, 
four cherubim are compared to a cloud, arclied with it; and 
nothing, out of the Hebrew seriptures, ean exceed the 
beauty of that passage,in Milton, where he deseribes its 
creation and its first appéarauce. 

There is a pieture, representing this emblem of merey, so 
admirably painted; in the eastle of Ambras, in the cirele of 
Austria, that the grand duke of Tnseany offered a hundred 
thousand erowns for it. Jubens frequently gave animation 
to pictures, whieh had little beside to interest the eye of the 
spectator, by painting this phenomenon: one of Guido's 


best pieees represents the Virgin and Infaut sitting ona 


rainbow : and round the niehe in which stood a statue of 
the Virgin in the ehapel of Loretto, were imbedded precious 
stones of various lustres, forming a rainbow of various 
colours. 

The rainbows of Greenland are frequently of a pale white, 
fringed with a brownish yellow; arising from the rays of 
the sun being refleeted from a frozen cloud. In Jeeland it 
is ealled the Bridge of the Gods; and the Seandivavians 
gave it for a guardian a being called Heindaller. They 
supposed it to connect heaven with earth. Ulloa and 
Bouguer describe circular rainbows, whieh are frequently 
seen on the mountains, rising above Quito, in the kingdom 
of Peru; while Edward asserts, that a rainbow was seen 
near London, caused by the exhalations of that city, after 
the sun lad set more than twenty minutes. A naval friend, 
too, informs ine, that as he was one day watching the sun's 
eliect upon the exhalations, near Juan Fernandez, he saw 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


359 


upwards of five and twenty zis marine animate the sea at the 
same time. In these marine-bows the coneave sides were 
turned upwards; the drops of water rising from below, and 
not falling from above, as in the instances of aérial arehes. 
They are sometimes formed, also, by waves dashing against 
the roeks: as may frequently be seen on the eoast of Car- 
narvon, Merioneth, Pembroke, Cardigan, and Carmarthen. 

In some rainbows may be discovered three arches within 
the purple of the common bow: 1. yellowish green, darker 
green, purple; 2. green, purple; 3. green, purple. Rain- 
bows, too, are sometimes seen when the hoar-frost is de- 
seending ; and Captain Parry, in his attempts to reach the 
North Pole by boats and sledges, saw a fog-bow, and no 
less than five arehes formed within the main one, all beauti 
fully coloured. 

Aristotle states, that he was the first who ever saw a 
lunar rainbow: he saw ouly two in fifty years. He as- 
suredly means he was the first who ever described one; 
since lunar rainbows must have been observed in all ages, 
That it was unknown to St. Ambrose, however, is evident, 
from his belief that the bow, whieh God promised Noah, he 
would plaee in the firmament, after the deluge, “ as a wit- 
ness, that he would never drown the world again,” was not 
to be understood of the rainbow, “‘ whieh ean never appear 
in the night; but some visible virtue of the Deity.” Not- 
withstanding this assertion of St. Ambrose, I have had the 
good fortune to see several ; two of which were, perhaps, as 
fine as were ever witnessed in any country. The first 
formed an areh over the vale of Usk. The moon hung over 
the Blorenge ; a dark cloud suspended over Myarth; the 
river murmured over beds of stones; and a bow, illumined 
by the moon, stretched from one side of the vale to the other. 

The second I saw from the castle overlooking the bay of 
Carmarthen, forming a regular semieirele over the Towy. 
It was in a moment of vicissitude; and fancy willingly 
reverted to that passage of Keclesiasticus, where the writer 
describes Simon, shining “ as the morning-star,” and “ as 
a rainbow’ on the temple of the Eternal. The sky soon 
cleared, and presented a midnight seene hike that, which 
Bloomfield has described so admirably :— 

de above these wafted clouds are seen 
(In a remoter sky, still more serene), 
Others detached, in ranges throngh the air, 
Spotless as snow, and countless as they’re fair ; 
Scatter’d immensely wide from east to west, 
The beauteous semblance of a flock at rest. 
These, to the raptur’d mind, aloud proclaim 
Ther mighty Shepherd’s everlasting name. 





THE FOUNTAIN OF THE ELEPHANT 
AT PARIS. 

Amone the features of the French capital which most 
remarkably distinguish it from London arte to be reckoned 
its numerous fountains. Irom the more perfect manner 
in which the conveyance of water to the houses of the 
inhabitants is effected in Loudon; public fountains or 
conduits in the streets are scarcely now required in any 
part of this city; although, before the introduction of the 
present system of water-works, we had them in consi- 
derable numbers. Like amything else placed in the 
middle of a great thoroughfare, such erections would be 
extremely inconvenient in modern ‘London, where the 
busy traffic along all our principal streets demands every 
inch of room that can be obtained. But in our squares 
and other open places, fountains, with jets, might be 
introduced with a highly ornamental effect. The beau- 
ties of architecture and statuary might here be combined 
with other attractions especially appropriate to such 
oreen oases in the heart of a large dusty town—witli the 
elerant forms of the projected water, and the feeling of 
coolness and refreshment always produced by the sight 
of that element in motion. The want of fountains and 
jets of this description,—for with the exception of that in 
one of the courts of the T’emple, there is nothing of the 
kind in our squares, or even in the royal parks,—is one 
of the greatest defects of London. 

In Paris, in 1825, according to Dulaure’s history of 
that city, there were one hundred and twenty-seven 
public fountains. Many of these are very handsome 
structures; judeed, so important have they been con- 


360 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SEPTEMBER 14, 1883 


sidered as architectural monuments, that a collection of | where it was: originally put up, close by the proposed 


elaborate engravings of them has been published, ac- 
companied with descriptions. ‘The wood-cut which we 
give at the end of the present notice represents one 
which, although long designed, has never yet been 
erected—the famous Fountain of the Elephant. This 
was one of Napoleon’s many projects for the embellish- 
ment of the capital of France. The Fountain of the Ele- 
phant was to have been erected in the centre of the oblong 
rectangular space which now occupies the site of the 
Bastille, between the canal of St. Martin and the Arsenal. 
It was one, and might be considered indeed the crowning 
one, of many improvements, which would almost have 
rendered this the most superb quarter of Paris. ‘The 
decree for the erection of the fountain was dated on 
the 9th of February, 1810, and it named the 2nd of 
December, 1811, as the day on which the structure 
should be completed. ‘The .foundation, accordingly, 
was laid in the course of the year 1810; but to the 
present day nothing further has been done in the exe- 
cution of the magnificent design. The model, however, 
in plaster-of-Paris, still exists; and even from that it 
may be felt how fine the effect of the intended ereetion 


would have been. This model is kept in a large shed | quest while on the eve of discomfiture avd destruction. 


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site of the fountain. It may be seen upon proper appli- 
cation ; and its enormous dimensions and fine propor- 
tions will abundantly repay the curiosity of the visitor. 

Upon the massive pedestal of stone was to have been 
placed a colossal elephant in bronze, surmounted by a 
tower, as seen in the cut, the whole forming a figure of 
about eighty feet in height. A staircase leading up to 
the tower was to have been concealed in one of the 
legs of the figure, each of which was to have been six 
feet and a half in thickness. The fountain was to have 
been adorned with twenty-four bas-reliefs in marble, 
representing the arts and sciences. : 

The foundation and model of this unexecuted con- 
ception remain as memorials of how sometimes— 


7 Vaulting ambition doth o’erleap itself.” 


The bronze for the enormous elephant was to have 
been obtained from the cannons captured by the imperial 
armies in Spain, in that contest, then only in its first 
stage, the course and issue of which some time after con- 
tributed so materially to hurl from his throne the proud 
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« © .* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 59, Lincoln's-inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Printed by Wituram Cowes, Duke Strect, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY M 





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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 





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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[SEPTEMBER 21, 1833. 








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THE CACHEMIRE GOAT. 


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' [Cachemire Goats.] 


Tur above representation of the Cacliemire Goat is 
taken from the fine work of F. Cuvier and G. St. Hilaire, 
on Mammiferous Animals. The specimen, in the Jardin 
des Plantes at Paris, of which that work contains a por- 
trait, was sent from Calcutta, having been obtained from 
the menagerie of the Governor-General of India, where 
it was born of acouple that came direct from Cachemire 
to Bengal. The wool of this goat appears, by a scru- 
pulous comparison, to be quite as delicate as the finest 
brought from Thibet. Cachemire, however, contains 
several breeds of goats with. fine wool-; a specimen was 
recently sent to England, which differed from that in 
France by having longer ears. But they all yield, appa- 


rently, the same produce; for the fineness ‘of the wool 


is occasioned by the influence of the climate. 

There are two sorts of hair which nature seems to 
have furnished, more or less, to every quadruped: the 
one, fine, curly, generally grey, and imparting to the 
skin a down more or less thick, as if to guard it against 
cold and damp ; the other, coarse, flat, giving a general 
colour to the animal, and appearing in numerous in- 
stances to be an organ of sensation. 

These two sorts of hair generally become thicker, 
according to the degree of cold to which they are ex- 
posed 5 - the frizzled hair becomes gradually finer 

OL, Ad. 


ag the cold increases in dryness. It is this frizzled hair 
of the Cachemire goat which renders these animals so 
valuable ; for to this we owe those delicate shawls which 
are so’ deservedly esteemed for a variety of qualities 
found in no other article of clothing. 

~ The French have attempted to introduce this breed of 
goats into their own country; but the success of the 
experiment. seems somewhat doubtful. It is, however, 
singular, as observed by Messrs. Cuvier and Hilaire, 
that no European has yet availed himself of the wool 
produced by most of our. domestic goats, which, though 
less delicate than the Thibet, would undoubtedly have 
yielded a web far more fine and-even than the most 
admired merino sheep. ef . 
The male goat, in the Menagerie.of the Jardin des 
Plantes, is admired for his symmetry, his graceful motion, 
and his quiet temper. But he has a mucii greater dis- 
tinction—he is free from smell; whereas nearly all Euro- 
pean goats are known to emit a strong, unpleasant odour. 
The Cachemire goat is of middling size; two feet high 
at the neck joint, and two feet ten inches from the snout 
to the root of the tail; his head from the snout between 
the horns is nine inches, and his tail five. His horns 
are erect and spiral, diverging off towards the points. 
His silky hair is long, flat, and fine, —_ . gathering 


362: 


up in bunches like that of the Angora goats. It Is. 
black about the head and neck, and white about the 
other parts of the body. ‘The woolly hair is always of 
a greyish white, whatever be the colour of the rest, 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Sxzcrion 12. 


Orcanic Remains.—( Continued.) 


Auruouaen the forms of Jeaves and other parts of plants 
impressed upon stones, and petrified wood and vege- 
table substances found in a fossil state, had long ago 
attracted the attention of naturalists, it 1s only very 
‘ately that the subject of * Fossil Botany,” as it has been 
termed, has been investigated by men of science com- 
petent to throw light upon it. M. Adolphe Brongniart 
in France, and, more recently, Professor Lindley in this 
country, have directed their special attention to this 
curious and difficult branch of geological inquiry. By 
the former of these eminent botanists, the materials 
which had been collected by earlier observers have been 
examined anew, and have been elassed in accordance 
with the principles of botanical arrangement in the pre- 
sent more advanced state of that science. M. Brone- 
niart, by those researches into earlier writers, by a 
personal inspection of specimens in the museums of 
most countries in Europe, and by extensive cominunica- 
tions with distinguished botanists and geologists, has 
arrived at some very important general results, which he 
has developed in a special work entitled ‘“ Histoire des 
Végzétaux Fossiles ;’’ and in that and in his “ Prodrome 
d'une Histoire des Véeétaux Fossiles,” has sketched 
such a system of classification as will greatly facilitate 
the future prosecution of fossil botany. In our language, 
a work entitled “ The Fossil Flora of Great Britain” 
has’ been begun by Professor Lindley and Mr. William 
Hutton of Newcastle-on-Tyne, which bids fair to be of 
great use in extending our knowledge in this field. ‘The 
subject is yet in its infancy; but when it has. been 
further investigated by botanists who possess accurate 
and extensive knowledge to surmount the great dif- 
ficulties with which it is attended, it cannot fail to throw 
much light upon the geological history of our planet. 
The plants, of which fossil remains have been met 
with, belong to every one of the six great classes into 
which the vegetable kingdom is divided; there is no 
great class of vegetable structure which did not exist 
prior to the deposition of the tertiary strata. or the 
sake of our general readers, we will shortly state which 
these classes are, and give an example of a plant be- 
‘onging to each. ‘The classes are founded mainly upon 
‘he particular provision which nature has made for the 
reproduction of the plant:—1.Agame are those plants 
which have no special organs of fructification, the term 
being taken from the Greek words a, without; and 
gamos, marriage ;—all the sea-weed tribe belong: to this 
class. 2. Cellular cryptogame@, or those with a con- 
cealed seed apparatus (cryptos being Greek for con- 
cealed), and composed of cellular tissue without vessels, 
such as the moss tribe. 3. Vascular cryptogamae, 
those having a concealed seed apparatus lke the former, 
but with vessels or a vascular structure: the very 
humerous tribe of ferns belong to this class. All the 
plants of these three first classes are flowerless. 4. 
Gymnospermous phanerogame, those with exposed 
organs of reproduction or flowers, (phaneros being 
Greek for apparent or evident,) but with naked seeds, 
(gymnos, naked; sperma, seed,) such as the fir-tree 
tribe. 5, Monocotyledonous phanerogame, those with 
flowers, but having a seed composed of one lobe (monos, 
single; cotyledon, lobe). Wheat, and all erasses, and 
the palm-tree, belong to this class. 6. Dicotyledonows 
phanerogame@, those with flowers and two cotyledons, 
or seed lobes (dis, double, and cotyledon,) which is by 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SEPTEMBER 21° 


far the most.numerous class, the greater number of trees 
and plants we see around us in this country belonging 
to it: the common bean is a good example of the double 
cotyledon. Some of the families or orders of each class 
are met with in the fossil state: there are different eenera 
of each order, some corresponding to living genera, 
others that are now extinct; and in most of the genera 
several species have been discovered, but almost all of 
these are now extinct. It is a remarkable circumstance 
that no trace of grasses of any sort has yet been found 
in the fossil state, but when one considers the vast num- 
ber of extinct land animals, belonging to the gramini- 
vorous tribes, of which the bones are scattered over so 
maury countries, it is hardly possible to conceive that erasses 
did not exist in former states uf our globe. Vegetable 
remains are generally most abundaut in the older strata, 
and it would almost seem as if there had formerly ex- 
isted some condition of the atmosphere under which the 
putrefactive process went on more slowly than in the later 
aces, while the tertiary strata were forming: a greater 
proportion of carbonic acid gas than is now colitained 
in the atmosphere would have that effect, In speaking 
of animal remains, (No. 76—8th June, 1833;) we have 
alluded to a notion prevalent amolig some geologists, 
that there has been in creation a gradual passage from 
the simple to the most complicated structures,—what is 
termed a progressive development ; and we stated our 
reasons for believing that such a notion has proceeded 
more from our ignorance of the structure of those ani- 
mals which we call simple, than from any want of a 
refined and beautiful mechanism in their frames. ‘The 
same idea exists on the subject of plants, but it has been 
very satisfactorily disproved by Professor Lindley. The 
plants of most simple structure are met with only in 
the superior strata, while in the older strata, such as the 
coal measures, and where vegetable remains are most 
ini abundance, we have not only palms, aud other plants 
of the same tribe, the most highly developed that we 
know in the monocotyledonous class of the existing wera, 
but other plants that are met with in great numbers in 
the same strata, called sigillarie and stigmariw, belong 
in all probability to the dicotyledonous or most highly 
organized class of plants. _ 

The time which elapsed from the commencement of 
the deposition of the older secondary strata, to that of the 
most recent of the tertiary beds, appears to he divisible 
into four great botanico-geological periods, of unequal 
duration, during each of which vegetation exhibited a 
common character. Each of these periods, therefore, 
is characterized by peculiar classes of plants, or, in the 
language of botanists; may be said to have a FLORA of 
its own; and each period embraces a certain number of 
the series of stratified rocks which compose the crust of 
the globe. During the continuance of each of those 
periods, vegetation seems to have undergone only gra- 
dual and limited changes—to have been subject to no 
changes which had an influence upon the essential cha- 
racter of the vegetation, taken as a whole; but, on the 
contrary, there is between one period and another a 
marked division, a sudden change in the most important 
characters of the vegetation. ‘There exists no species 
common to two successive periods; all is different; and a 
new ensemble of plants, which must have been produced 
under circumstances different from those which pre- 
existed, replaces the old vegetation, ‘The four great 
periods are as follows :— 


A.—The First Period includes the coal measures and 
all the strata containing organic remains which 
lie below them. (M. to Q. Diagram in No. 
51, 19th of January.) 

B.—The Second Period comprehends the vast de- 
posits of red sandstone, magnesian limestone, 
and a sandstone lying above that limestone 


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called tne new red sandstone. 
of K.) 
C.—The Third Period commences with a kind of 
shelly limestone, that forms a member of the 
upper part of the group of red marly sandstone 
(K.), and ineludes all the superior secondary 
strata up to the chalk. (G. to I.) - 

D.—The Fourth Period includes all the strata more 

~ recent than the chalk. (C. to F.) 

It is a remarkable circumstance that the periods are 
separated by strata, which, if not entirely destitute of 
land plants, contain them in very small quantity. ‘Thus 
A. is separated from B. by a formation of .coarse sand- 
stone, (called by geologists the red conglomerate,) in 
which plants are of rare occurrence, and by the magnesian 
limestone in which marine plants are almost exclusively 
found: again, B. and C. are separated by the shelly 
limestone (muschelkalk of geologists), which is almost 
destitute of vegetable remains: and, lastly, C. is sepa- 
rated from D. by the chalk, in which, with rare excep- 
tions, only marine plants have yet been found. 

First Periop.—The lowest’ strata in which animal 
remains are found contain also those of plants, so that 
it would appear that animal and vegetable life were from 
the first co-existent. ‘The plants in the older sandstones 
are for the most part marine, but the impressions are 
usually indistinct. Black carbonaceous matter, without 
any organic form, is by.no means unfrequent, and some- 
times in considerable quantity, and it is not improbable 
that it is of vegetable origin, for fossil plants are very 
commonly found in the state of charcoal. It is in the 
beds of coal, and in the sandstones, clays, and limestones 
which accompany them, that vegetable remains first 
occur in profusion, and there are few phenomena in 
geology more remarkable than those enormous accuimu- 
lations of vegetable matter from which the coal-beds 
have been derived. We shall advert more fully to this 
subject when we come to treat specially of coal, and 
shall only at present touch generally upon the character 
of the vegetation of the period. ‘The most distinguishing 
feature of it is the great numerical preponderance of the 
third class; viz., the vascular cryptogame, and the pro- 
digious size which the plants attain. . ‘They constitute 
five-sixths of the whole flora of the period, while they do 
not form the proportion of one-thirtieth in the vegetation 
of the present time. ‘The ferns of temperate regions are 
low plants with stems rising scarcely a few.inches above 
the ground, but in the equatorial regions there are what 
are Called tree-ferns, which have a stem from twenty to 
thirty feet high. Now the different kinds of fossil ferns, 
of this period often correspond with the tree-ferns of the 
tropics, as is attested by the remains of their stems which 
are occasionally met with. The plants called lycopodiuins 
by botanists constitute another order of this class, and 
are of a kind intermediate between tree-ferns and the 
fir-tree tribe. Those now existing never. exceed the 
height of three feet, and are usually weak prostrate 
plants having the habits of mosses; but the fossil lyco-. 
podiums attain gigantic sizes, stems having been found 
above three feet in diameter, and seventy feet long. 
There is in this period a much smaller proportion of the. 
fourth and fifth classes, in comparison with what. occurs 
in existing vegetation, and, with the exception of the fir- 
tribe which was very common. the existence of the dicotyle- 
donous class is little more than conjectured. ‘Lhe plants 
which constitute by far the larger proportion. of-the 
flora of the first period belong to genera which exist, of 
such dimensions, only in the warmest countries of the 
globe; and it is evident, therefore, that the climate of the 
north of Europe and America must have been at least as 
hot as that of the equatorial regions, at the time the plants 
grew which are now buried many fathoms under ground 
in the coal-mines of those countries, for all the circum- 


(L. and part 


stances attending them exclude the idea of the plants | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


363 


having been drifted from southern latitudes into those 
situations. ~~ | 

Seconp Pertop.—The red sandstones which were 
deposited so extensively at this period are even more 
destitute of vegetable than they are of animal remains, 
This absence of organic remains is a very remarkable 
and inexplicable circumstance, considering the ereat 
extent occupied by these deposits in all countries, and 
their vast thickness. The plants hitherto found in the 
lowest strata of the period have been almost exclusively 
marine, the few exceptions- being: vascular cryptocame 
resembling those of the first period. In the superior 
beds a few of the conifer or fir-tree tribe have been 
found, and some that are supposed to belong to the 
monocetyledonous class. a 

Turrp Perrop.—The lowest stratum of this period 
contains very few plants, and these chiefly marine; but 
they become more abundant in the sands, sandstones, 
clays, and limestones that succeed each other in numer- 
ous alternations up to the chalk. Many belong, how- 
ever, to an entirely new race of plants from any which 
had previously existed. ‘There are no longer the gi- 
gantic ferns and lycopodiums of the first period,—the 
same families exist, but the character of excessive 
luxuriance disappears, and species analogous to plants— 
now natives «* the Cape of Good Hope and New Hol- 
land—become common. ‘The whole of-the flora of the 
period consists almost exclusively of the third and fourth 
classes, and nearly in equal proportions: the rarity of the 
fifth and sixth classes, that is, of monocotyledonous and 
dicotyledonous plants, is very remarkable. Among those 
belonging to the fourth class, viz. the gymnospermous 
phanerogame, there is an extraordinary preponderance 
of the family called cycadew, a family scarcely so 
numerous now over the whole globe as it was then in 
the small part of Europe where its fossil remains. have 
been found : it constitutes now not above a thousandth 
part of existing vegetation, whereas it forms oue-half of 
what remains of the flora of this period. ‘The chalk, 


.which constitutes the upper strata of the period, has not 


afforded as yet more than a few marine plants, and 
scarcely a trace of land plants, so that a complete change 
had taken place in the nature of the country surround- 
ing those parts where the chalk was deposited, from what 
had existed immediately before. . 

~ Fourre Pertop.—From the termination of the de- 
posit of the chalk formation, we discover in the animal 
and vegetable remains the commencement of resem- 
blances to species which now exist; the proportion gra- 
dually increases in the newer strata, until at;last the fiora 
of the latest tertiary deposits differs very little, in cha- 
racter from that of the present time.in the same countries. 
In the beds. immediately above the chalk, ferns and 
cycadew again appear, but in greatly diminished pro- 
portions; the conifere, but very diflerent from those of 
the older periods, increase in, quantity, -mixed with 
palm-trees and. others. of the monocotyledonous class of 
tropical regions, associated with. dicotyledonous trees, 
such as the. elm, willow, poplar, chestnut, and sycamore. 
We.again meet with local deposits of decayed, or rather 
altered, vegetable matter, forming thick beds of a kind 
of coal, which is used in many countries, as on. the 
banks of the Rhine, for fuel,—something intermediate 
between coal and peat. 

The following table, which is taken from the Prodro- 
mus of Broneniart, gives a general view of the character 
of the vegetation of each period, aud a comparison of it 
with that of the present time, by showing the number of 
fossil species belonging to the several classes hitherto 
found in each of the four periods, and, at the same time, 
the total number of living species of the class, as now 
known to exist. ‘This last enumeration is merely ap- 
proximate, and the number of living species we know.to 
be considerably understated. - ) 


BAR 


364 


Names of the Classes. 





1, Agame 


First Second 
Period. ‘Period. 








ee cf 


2. Celinlar Cryptogame. . 0 


3. Vascular Cryptogame. 
4, Gymnospermous | 0 
Neropammee ....... 


9. Monocotyledonous 


Phanerogame .... 


t> 
to 
ao) 
ao mnon 


° 
G. Dicotyledunous “i 0 0 


nerorainae 


eet @e@@e8 6 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Third Fourth 
Period. Period. 


Faving 
Species. 
13 oo 70 
2 1,500 
7 
7 








1,700 
150 


25 8,000 
32,000 


72 «164 50,350 | 


s—= 


2 ' 


[SepremBer 21, 


Thus it appears, that while more than fifty thousand 





NATURAL BRIDGES 


OF ICONONZO. 


living species of plants have been described, the number 
of known fossil species did not much exceed five hun- 
dred at the time M. Brongniart wrote, viz. in 1828. 
Several have since been discovered, but the number is 
still very small; and, without undervaluing what has 
already been done, we may truly say that the subject is 
yet in its infancy, not only as regards the mere nu- 
merical existence of fossil species, but as to the general 
| laws which future discoveries of new species must unfold 
to us. 








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1833.] 


In an early Number of the Magazine (No. 13), we gave 
an account of a remarkable natural bridge in the State 
of Virginia, North America, and we noticed at the same 
time the structures of a similar kind in the valley of 
Icononzo in the Cordilleras. The engraving opposite 
is a representation of the latter wonderful arches. As 
we stated before, they were crossed by Humboldt and 
Bonpland, in September, 1801, on their way from 
Santa Fé de Bogota to Popayan and Quito; and our 
engraving is copied from that given by Humboldt in 
his magnificent volume, entitled “ Views of the Cordil- 
leras and Monuments of the Indigenous Nations of 
America.” 

The region in which the valley of Icononzo, otherwise 
called that of Pandi or Mercadillo, is situated, is even in 
its lowest parts raised to an immense height above the 
level of the sea. The bottoms of some of its deepest 
valleys are, within a fourth part of the elevation of the 
Alpine passages of Mount St. Gothard and Mount Cenis. 
The bridges of Icononzo are placed at a height of about 
three thousand feet above the ocean. The little monun- 
tain torrent, which frets its way in the bottom of the 
cleft, is called the Rio de la Summa Paz, and is at a 
depth of about three hundred and fifteen feet below the 
upper bridge. - This is formed of an unbroken mass of 
rock attached to, and making part of the sandstone of 
which ‘the elevations on both sides are ‘composed. It is 
forty-seven feet and a half in length; and its breadth is 
about forty-one feet anda half.. The thickness of the 
inass at.the centre is not quite eight feet. ‘The natives 
have fixed a rudely formed balustrade of canes along its 
edges, which enables persons passing it to look over 
without danger. | : 

The other bridge is about twenty yards lower down, 
and is formed of three large pieces of rock, the central 
one of which acts as the key of the arch, and sup- 
ports the other two. This accidental position, as Hum- 
boldt remarks, might have suggested to the natives 
of America an idea of the construction of the arch. 
“I will not,” he continues, “ pronounce a decided 
opinion as to whether these masses of rock have been 
hurled thither from~some distance, or are merely the 
fragments of an arch which had been broken without 
being. removed from its place, and which was originally 
of the same kind with the bridge higher up. This last 
supposition is rendered probable by an accidental collo- 
cation of an analogous description presented by the ruins 
of the Coliseum at Rome, where there are to be seen, 
in a wall -which has half fallen down, several stones 
arrested in their descent, in consequence of having acci- 
dentally formed an arch as they fell.’ In the middle of 
this second bridge there is a hole, of about ninety square 
feet in area, through which you can see the bottom of 
the abyss below. ‘The torrent seems as if it flowed 
away into a dusky cavern; and a mournful sound falls 
on the ear proceeding from an infinite multitude of 
night birds, that -dwell in the dusky cleft, and are to 
be seen in thousands hovering over the water. It is 
impossible, however, to catch any of them, and the 
ouly mode; of, obtaining anything like a distinct view of 
them is by throwing down squibs or torches to pro- 
duce a momentary:light. They were described by the 
Indians, who call them’ cacas, as being about the size 
of a hen, and: having the eyes of .an owl, with 
crooked beaks. ‘Che colour of their plumage is uniform 
throughout, and-.of a brownish grey, which makes 
Humboldt think that they probably belong to the genus 
caprimulgus, of which there are many varieties in this 
region. a 

The stream, over which these bridges are suspended, 
flows from east to west ;- and the view is taken from the 
northern part of the ‘valley, from a point where the arches 
are seen in profile, : | | 





THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. * 


ASCENT OF MOUNT ATNA. 
(Concluded from No, 93.) 


865 


‘THe sun was now rising, and my attention was di- 


rected there. In this I was disappointed; as [ have 
had so many opportunities of seeing the sun rise and 
set at sea, and I certainly do not hesitate to rive the 
preference to either of these, with regard to the appear- 
ance of the luminary itself, to the view now presented 
from the eminence at which I had arrived. But the 
surrounding country, from the first dawn of twilight to 
the moment when the sun first appeared, was, I think 
I may safely say, ‘‘ beyond conception,” to any one who 
has not been at this moment on this spot. The moon 
had passed the full, so that its light was not suf- 
ficient to give us a view of the scenery around; besides 
there always is a dim paleness about reflected light, 
which glares though at the same time it deceives us. But 
the instant the sun gave that tinge to the eastern horizon, 
which I never saw in England, and which is, I believe, 
peculiar to southern climates, the objects became one by 
one more distinct. | 7 | 

For several miles ‘down the mountain, not a tree, a 
shrub, or a herb is anywhere to be seen—nothing but the 
black cinders. The nearest vegetation is ont of the reach 
of sound, and at such a distance that the eye can perceive 
no motion ; in fact it is one of the few scenes where a 
panorama might be taken with a striking approach to 
truth From such an eminence, as we look down, I 
do not know whether it is from the rarefaction of the 
atmosphere, or being so high above that vapour which 
ever hangs about the lower regions of the earth, or 
from what other cause, but certainly objects remain 
distinct at a much greater distance than when on the 
levels. ‘The effect is that of making the surrounding 
country appear much nearer than it really is. There 
is likewise another singularity, no less curious; that 
is, the stillness and quiet that reign throughout this 
desert region, We know that even ina perfect calm, 
on the plains, how the most remote sound is carried 
along the surface of the earth, to an incredible distance. 
The slightest murmur of the wind, even in the deserts 
of Africa, is heard by travellers; and when we cannot 
distinguish the least motion in the air, we can always 
discern a confused half-stifled noise. Here, however, 
though in a breeze so keen that it cut us to the bone, 
felt a sort of blank or void in my oral organs, which 
produced a defective, and rather disagreeable sensation. 
The wind which blew was conductor of no sound, and 
from my isolated situation, I was, it seems, almost inac- 
cessible to it. My footsteps I never heard so plainly 
before, not even in the stillest midnight, although I 
felt they were not loud. .Not the least reverberation 
was distinguishable, and the scene seemed under some 
spell, in which I could almost have fancied myself in- 
cluded. An enthusiastic Italian, on viewing this glorious. 
landscape at sunrise, exclaimed that the island seemed 
as if it had been created but last night, and was not yet 
endowed with the powers of life; and I do not know 
how to convey any better idea of the view, and the 
impression made on me, than by quoting his words. 
-. The day was not one of those extremely propitious, 
but very good; and I should be glad to compound for 
no worse, were I to go the journey again. Not a single 
cloud was to be seen; at the same time there was. 
a slieht distant haziness in the air, which prevented us 
seeing Malta. The range of view was, however, prodi- 
pious: Being nearly 11,000 feet above the level of the 
sea, I was not able to find out, without a little search... 
promontories and mountains which below I had looked 
up to, and which appeared equally great in their way. 
Brydone says he is persuaded that Africa is within the 
range of the visible horizon of Adtna, but in this he must 
be mistaken. The view from the summit of AStna is one 
to arrest the attention of anv man, whatever his qualifica- 


3 66 


tions or endowments, with a most riveting interest. The 
scholar may here see below him the very spots con- 
secrated by the genius of the noblest ancient poets and 
historians, and scenes which are associated with the 
dearest of his early recollections. ‘The astronomer will 
have a new sphere opened to him; for by the great 
height at which he is arrived he will have left below 
him those mists and vapours which, nearer the earth, 
render | many thousands of small stars invisible, and 
others of more difficult vision. The botanist will see a 
variety of the vegetable tribe, equalled in the same space 
in no other country. The Lapland productions will be 
nearest hin; while, as his eye moves along, it will 
insensibly be led to the region, where plants which 
thrive in the tropics come to perfection, and all this 
within thirty miles of him. The antiquary may here 
find ample room for his speculations, for among the 
numberless calculations as to Astna, its ruins, the 
adjacent country, and the antiquity of the volcano itself, 
none are so satisfactory as not to make us wish for 
some more authentic conjectures. The minerals which 
have been extracted from this mountain are numerous 3 
and the museums of Biscari and Givena, in Catania, 
afford us proof that, on this account alone, a chemist or 
a naturalist would find an ever-varying source of in- 
terest in the examination of the surrounding objects. 
To the ordinary spectator, the island itself, with the 
thought of its multitudinous productions, its never-fail- 
ing fertility, its unrivalled beauty, and the calm serenity 
which distance throws on the scene, stnkes the mind 
with a sort of awe, that it is, I think, impossible for any 
man who has been accustomed to think at all not to 
regard with admiration. Even the dull ¢aze of rustic 
ignorance is startled into something more than its 
wonted sameness. ‘The coup dail of a spot, permitting 
the sieht of objects which, when below, a man has been 
accustomed to consider at a wonderful distance, many 
of them out of sieht of one another, and others that he 
had always looked up to; to see these, so far below him 
that they seem within his grasp, cannot but awaken the 
attention of the simplest peasant who is moved with any 
of the springs whicl: animate the rest of the creation. 

Having looked on all around and beneath me for 
some time, I entered the crater. I was certainly surprised 
at a sight so unlike what I had formed an idea of. It 
was perfectly walled round by its own ashes in every 
part except the breach by which I entered. The height 
of this wall I suppose might be from fifty to seventy feet. 
The bottom of the crater was a perfect level, except 
being interspersed with about twenty small hillocks, the 
largest very little higher than a good-sized -hay-cock, all 
of them with proportionate craters, emitting smoke but 
no fire. The crater, by the imperfect guess which I 
could make, seemed to be at this time about three miles 
in circumference, being nearly a perfect circle in form; 
and I am inclined to think I'am not far from the mark 
in this estimate, as I made the circuit of it at the base, in 
which my idea of its size was confirmed. With regard to 
traversing the crater, J am convinced it mi¢ht have been 
effected, and also that we might have inspected those 
minor volcanoes within, but it would have required great 
care. A single whiff of the nitrous smoke in your face 
might suffice to lay yon senseless: besides the ground 
underneath, which seemed to be of a sort of coarse sand, 
was still hot. I never came prepared for such an ex- 
ploit. To have reached the highest point in the cone, so 
as to be able to get a peep into the crater, was the 
boundary of my ambition, and I had timed myself: to be 
back to Riposto by the evening. I was moreover so 
fatigued by the late efforts I had made, that I felt myself 
quite unable to make use of what would have been 
esteemed by many the most fortunate circumstance that 
could have happened. 


The flatness of the bottom of the crater is clear 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


a living wall around the packages, — 


one, occupies its own distinct place. 


‘heads. 


[SepremsBer 21, 


proof, in my opinion, that there exists no vacuum 
underneath of any consequence. ‘The moment the ebul- 
lition occasioned by the elements within ceases, the whole 
gradually subsides, finds its own level, and consolidates. 
It is only at the moment of the discharges that there is 
any depth of hollow below. ‘This is clearly evinced by 
looking at all the old craters of A4tna (Monte Rossi ex- 
cepted), where nothing of this sort is discoverable, but a 
solid mass now occupying nearly to the brim the mouths 
which’ ouly a few years a2o vomited, from an iImmence 
depth, the most frightful emissions of fire. 

~ Tcontented myself with taking one or two pieces of 
the ashes, hot out of one of ‘the ‘hillocks, and proceeded 
to. go round the cone outside. This I found great 
difficulty in doing, since there was the same sort of hard 
metallic lava to 70 over again. Livery step I took I 
had first to make fast a purchase with my hands, thius 
almost moving upon all fours, so that, to cireumscribe 
the cone, it took a considerable time. We had arrived 
at the English house, on our way up, at a quarter past 
four, and though we lost no time in proceeding onwards, 
did not return to it « again until near nine o ‘clock. 

On our return to the English house we made a pretty 
hearty breakfast. ‘The cold was so creat that the wine 
had become quite thick; and, on entering the stable, the 
geuide found the mules trembling from its effects, not- 
withstanding they had had plenty to eat during’ our 
absence. 


THE DEAF TRAVELLER —— 4. 
Encampinents—Intr usions— Travelling Fare} Phe i a Journal—~ 
Lead Pencils. ~ 
Our first day’s journey was not performed in company 
with the caravan, the bulk of which had gone before us 
to Bakooba, and various other parties were yet to join, 
that being the place of rendezvous. 

We found the yard of the caravansary full of horses, 
mules, and asses, with their burdens piled up in 
heaps. These heaps of goods, on this and other occa- 
sions, were enclosed within a square formed by a rope, 
which was fastened to wooden or iron pins driven into 
the ground. ‘To this rope the cattle were tied, forming 
There were several 
such squares; each party of muleteers having their cattle 
and goods separate. The men generally fix their quar 
ters within the enclosure. ‘This is the form of encamp- 
ment most commonly used in the yards of caravansaries’ 
where there are no covered stables, or where they do not 
choose to use them; which they seldom do, except in 
‘cold weather. When the encampment is not within 
walls, they prefer to form one great enclosure in a similar 
manner; yet so that each party, if there be more than 
The cattle are wene- 
rally outside, fastened to the rope as before, and the mer- 
chandise within; as, indeed, often are the more valuable 
of the cattle. These are general rules from which there 
are ‘occasional departures, as danger is or is not appre- 
hended. The goods often, for instance, form part of the 
exterior line; and while the muleteers commonly like to 
be within the enclosure, travellers often prefer to form 
their groups without, close to the heels of the cattle ; 
generally so composing themselves to rest that their lue- 
gage cannot be disturbed without their being roused, 
or astir occasioned among the beasts. 

Finding the little rooms which the caravansary af- 
forded to be too close and warm for ocenpation, we, with 
some others, fixed ourselves and our baggage in the 
open air, under the shade of a high dead wall, laying out 
our quilts to recline on, with our baggage under our 
In Eastern travelling privacy is seldom attain- 
able. Ei:ven if you get a room, every one feels quite at 
liberty to come and sit down with you, inquiring into 
your circumstances and objects, with a freedom which 
seems impertinent to an European. They also watch 


1833.) 


keenly the most minute or indifferent of your operations, 
‘and talk freely to one another about them, inaking a vast 
number of- troublesome inquiries concerning everything 
they see. To Arabs and Turks, however, the justice is 
due of saying, that they will generally retire when they 
see a Stranger preparing to eat; and soimetimes, perhaps, 


the traveller will be tempted to eat merely to get rid of 


them. Ido not know whether the Persians, who boast 
‘so much of their politeness, have a similar custom: if so, 
‘he insatiable curiosity of that people, which in the higher 
classes it is a point of etiquette to conceal, prevented 
thein from observing it with us; thoueh at times there 
seemed a show among them of keeping a little in the 
background on such occasions. 

Having no servant, we had no cooking; and ex- 
cept when we came to towns, in whose bazaars ready- 
dressed meat might be had, we lived mostly on fruits 
ald bread while we travelled with the caravans. Na- 
tive ewentlemen manage these matters more comfort- 
ably than those who are not accustomed to their mode 
of travelling. They have generally a cook and a good 
supply of cooking utensils with them. And, as in vil- 
lages, meat is seldom to be had unless a whole sheep 
be bought, or unless the owner is snre of being able to 
dispose of all the meat among thie travellers before he 
kills it, they often take with them meat potted in its own 
fat. A bag of rice, also, is seldom forgotten, as without 
this grain an Oriental thinks his dimer good for nothing, 
though with it, lubricated with a little butter, oil, or fat, 
and earnished with onions, it is, in lis view, a feast for 
aking. Moreover, if the stage be long or tiresome, 
they will occasionally push on a-head; and, when one 
comes up with the caravan, they are seen squatting by 
the wayside smoking their pipes, and sipping the coffee 
which had been prepared in the interval. ‘They have 
ereat facility in getting ready a cup of coffee. Every 
man carries materials for kindling a fire about him, and 
the small quantity of fuel necessary to boil the little 
coffee-pot is easily collected. ‘They let the caravan 
pass, but soon overtake it; and, on the strength 
of this occasional refreshment, with smoke and coffee, 
the two great luxuries of the Kast, they get on, in excel- 
lent condition and spirits, through the most wearisome 
Stages. 

When we had dined, and [I had purified myself 
in the stream which flows through Bakooba to the 
Diulah, I began to write my first entry in the journal 
which I had made up my mind to keep during the 
journey, and by which I am now enabled to pre- 
yare these papers. I had on former occasions experi- 
enced the inconvenience of trusting to memory, or even 
to rough notes. With this experience, I made it quite 
imperative on myself, when I left Bagdad, to keep a fuld 
and regular journal. Possibly I might not have done 
so, had I been aware of all the difficulty I should find in 
carrying this determination into effect. 1 often felt my 
self-imposed task most grievous when [ had to sit down 
to it in the midst of inquisitive people; often in the open 
air without shelter from the sun; often when weary, 
sleepy, faint,—and, at a later period, often when be- 
numbed with cold or blinded with smoke. I can now 
readily find in my journals the parts I wrote when my 
eyes were distressed by the glaring sun,—when I could 
hardly hold the pen from cold,—and when I was drowsy 
or actually fell asleep over my labour. 

When I began to write at Bakooba, my neighbours 
paid much attention to my operations. On this and a 
few following days I used a lead-pencil, but soon left it 
for pen and ink, not only on account of the greater per- 
manence of the writing, but because I was much in- 
terrupted and annoyed by the notice the pencil attracted, 
and the frequent applications made for permission to 
examine it fully. With the experience of this and 


former journeys before me, I really do not recollect that | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


367 


any other Huropean article I possessed obtained near so 
much attention as the black-lead pencil in those parts of 
Persia and Turkey remote from Kuropean intercourse. 
Its utility was at once perceived; and a thing simply 
curious, or whose utility was less immediately percepti- 
ble to them, was never honoured with such admiring 
notice. On the present and many other occasions, each 
man was anxious to know how it was possible to write 
with solid ix’, and how the consolidated zzk got into the 
belly of the wood. livery one was desirous to try the 
virtues of the wonderful instrument for himself; and, 
having examined with admiration the characters he had 
traced, endeavoured by sig lit, smell, touch, and taste, to 
find out the qualities of the implement which produced 
them. The pencil-case also obtained much notice, though 
the pencil itself was most studied aud adinired. They 
were curious, too, to see ine writing a character with 
which they are not acquainted, and in a manner which, 
as they write from riglit to left themselves, appeared as 
writing backward to them. Nor did they omit to inquire 
what was the subject of my writing. The simple truth 
was told thein—that, in my own country, I had friends, 
who would ask me concerning the things I had seen in 
my travels; and that I wrote down an account of what 
I saw that I might be the better able to gratify them. 
This account of the matter seenied so satisfactory to 
them that they would sometimes, through my friend, 
communicate the ages and other particulars concerning 
the cattle, as information which would be acceptable to 
the friends in my own country. I know not, however, 
whether my wniting so much may not have helped to 
procure for us the character of spies, which we ultimately 
obtained. The better-informed Persiais have some idea 
of the use and advantage of keeping a journal, while 
travelling or residing in a strange country. Mahomed 
Ali Khan, of 'Tabreez, told us that he kept a journal 
while he resided in England, and on his return from 
thence ; and it seems that, when he came back, the 
prince who had sent him, Abbas Meerza, read the journal 
with much interest and amusement. The people of our 
first caravan, however, were not Persians, but Turks, 
Arabs, Kourds, and Armenians. 


CITY OF ROCHESTER. 


One of the richest valleys in England is that throuch 
which the Medway—the ‘‘ Medway smcoth,”’ as Milton 
has called it—flows on to the ocean. Here it makes 
its way through broad meadows clothed with verdure, 
or waving in the proper season with abundant harvests ; 
while the high grounds that look down upon it in other 
parts are also planted or otherwise cultivated to the 
sunt. On the south or right bank of this river, in an 
angle formed by a bend in its course, stands the small, 
but ancient and not uninteresting city of Rochester. 
The subjoined engraving presents a view of it as seen 
from the north-west. Beyond the bridge is perceived 
the river coming up from the south; till, having passed 
the bridge, it suddenly changes its direction, and runs for 
some distance aimost due east. ‘The town is thus skirted 
by the water on the west aid north. ‘To the right, be- 
yond the bridge, lies the town of Strood; and farther 
down the river to the east, the great naval station of 
Chatham. ‘The three places form almost a continuous 
line of houses, of filly two miles in length, and are 
often spoken of collectively as the “ ‘three Towns.” 
They contain together a population of about 30,000, 
without including the country parts of the several 
parishes. 

Rochester is a place of great antiquity, having been, 
there is every reason to believe, a British town before 
the Roman invasion. Its original name seems to have 
been Dourbryf, signifying the swift stream, in allusion 
to the character of the river on the banks of which it 


368 


stands. This British designation the Romans, according 
to their custom, smoothed down into the forms Duro- 
brovis and Durobrovum, which the Saxons again short- 
ened into Hroffe. That, finally, by the addition com- 
monly made in the case of places which had been Roman 
stations, became Hroffe-ceastre, the immediate parent 
of the modern Rochester. ‘The Saxon Hroffe, we may 
also remark, has been Latinized into Roffa, and from 
this form the Bishop of Rochester takes his common 
signature, Roffensis. 

“The Roman road from Canterbury to London pro- 
bably passed through the town of Rochester; and it is 
supposed that the river was originally crossed here by a 
ferry, for which a wooden bridge was afterwards sub- 
stituted. "The town appears never to have been very 

extensive; and is, probably, considerably larger and 
more populous, at present than it was in ancient times. 
ee the parishes of Strood and Frindsbury it contained 

2,791 inhabitants by the last census, which was, how- 
ever, 127 under the number returned in 1821. ‘The 
population of Rochester Proper is under 10,000. 

From ancient documents the city appears to have been 
walled round, at least so early as the time of Ethelbert I. 
King of Kent, or about the close of the sixth century. 
The- walls which it then had may have been originally 
erected by the Romans. . Some Roman bricks still are, 
or were lately to be seen, in the fragments of the old 
wall that yet remain. As far as the circuit of this ancient 
circumvallation can be traced, it appears to have formed 
a parallelogram, the four. sides of which nearly fronted 
the cardinal points. ‘The inclosed space, however, was 
of very small extent; being only about a quarter of a 
mile from north to south, “and twice that length from 
east to west.. A small tower which occupied the north- 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


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‘ei ry 


(SEPTEMBER 2], 1833. 


east angle of the fortification is still almost entire. It 
has a winding staircase in the interior. The city gates, 
of which there were formerly several, have all been long 
swept away. The last repair which the walls received 
appears to have been from Henry II, in 1225, on 
which oceasion a fosse or ditch was formed around 
their base. 

Rochester now consists principally of one long street, 
called High Street, which crosses it from east to west, 
terminating on the river a little below the present bridge. 
This bridge i is one of the greatest ornaments of the city, 
and, indeed, is perhaps the finest old bridge in England. 
It was built in the latter part of the fourteenth century 
(being completed in 1392), by the famous Sir Robert 
KKnowles,. who, in the reign of Edward IIJ., was equally 
renowned for his military prowess and his piety. It is five 
hundred and sixty feet in length, and fifteen broad. It 
has undergone frequent repairs since its first erection, 
and some of the arches have even been entirely rebuilt. 
Within these few years a great improvement has been 
made ou it, by throwing the two central arches into one, 
and thus opening a much wider space for the current of 
the river and the passage of- vessels. 

The houses of Rochester are for the most part built 
with brick, though there still remain several ancient ones 
of wood. ‘The town: has a neat appearance, though in 
general it has no architectural magnificence to boast of 
By far the most conspicuous buildings which it- contains 


are its fine old cathedral, and the ruins of its once strong 
and commanding castle. 


We shall give accounts of both 


in future Numbers. They stand, as they may be seen 


in ,the prefixed view, to the south of the High Street, 


the castle near the river, and the cathedral towards the 
centre of the city. 


auit Se i 


{Ib 


[ View of the we City of Rochester.} , 





*,” The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


cPrinted by Wiitzam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 








OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[SEPTEMBER 28, 1833. 





: TANTALLON CASTLE. 





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but semi-hexagonal in its general outline. What now 
remains is principally a long stretch of ragged wall, sur- 
mounted by the fragment of a tower, whose weather- 
beaten front, frowning over the waves, presents an 
aspect peculiarly desolate and melancholy. 
From the earliest date to which its history can be 
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fifteenth: to the middle .of the:sixteenth century. In 
1455, the .barony of North Berwick, along with: Tan-. 
tallon. Castle, was forfeited by the. Earl:of Douglas to the 
crown; but about twenty-five years afterwards ‘these 
possessions: were restoréd. by: James ITI. to.the famous 
Archibald Bell-the-Cat, the sixth Earl of Angus, who, 
in return, afterwards headed the rebellion. which cost the 
unfortunate monarch his throne and his life. Soon after 
the battle of Flodden, where James IV. was killed, the 
Karl married his widow, and in this way, got into his 
possession her son, James V., whom he retained in:close 
confinement till the year 1527, when the young ‘king at 
last contrived to elude his jailer.. On this event Douglas 
took. refuge in his castle of Tantallon, and, collected 
there a band of the trustiest of his retainers... From this 
retreat James immediately prepared to dislodge him; 
and an old Scottish historian, Lindsey of Pittscottie, has 
given us a detailed history of the attempt, which 
curiously illustrates the feeble resources of the Scottish 
monarchy in those days, when the crown as yet held its 
precarious supremacy only by an incessant struggle with 
the barons or great landed proprietors of the kingdom. 
James, Lindsey tells us, commenced operations by 


3B 


370 


making proclamation to all the neighbouring counties, 
Fife, Angus, Strathern, Stirling, Lothian, the Merse, 
and Tiviotdale, to compear at Edinburgh on the 10th of 
December, every man bringing with him forty days’ 
victuals, to pass alone with the king in person to the 
siege of the castle. Having collected his forces, he next 
sent to the Castle of Dunbar to borrow from the Duke 
of Albany ‘‘ two great cauons, thrawn-mouthed Mow 
and her marrow, with two great bot-cards, and two 
moyans, two double falcons, and four quarter falcons, 
with their powder and bullets, and gunners for to use 
them.” He at the same time “ caused tliree lords to 
pass in pledge for the said artillery th] it were delivered 
again.’ But guns, ammunition, and engineers were all 
to no purpose; they carried on the siege for twenty 
days, “ but,’’ continues the historian, ‘they came no 
speed; whether the castle was so strong, or the gunners 
corrupted by the Earl of Anens’s moyen, I cannot tell.” 
‘The king then, having lost many men and horses, re- 
solved to retire to Edinburgh; but still anxious to 
obtain possession of the fortress, he opened a negotiation 
with the captain of the garrison, Simeon Pannango; and 
at length, by very liberal promises of favour both to 
himself and his men, induced him to surrender it. 
“ Shortly after,” concludes Windsey, ‘the king gart 
garnish it with men of war and artillery, and put ine 
new captain, to wit, Oliver Sinclair; and caused masons 
to come and ranforce the walis, which were left waste 
before as trauces and thorow-passagves, and made all 
massy work, to the effect that it should be more able in 
time coming to any enemies that would come to pursue 
it.” It is a tradition among the soldiers, Grose tells us, 
that what is called the Scotch March was composed for 
the troops going to this siege, and that the tune was 
intended to express the words Ding down Tantallon. 
Scott, in the Introduction to his “ Minstrelsy of the 
Border,” has noticed the phrase, “ To ding down Tan- 
tallon, and make a bridge to the Bass,” as an old adage 
expressive of impossibility. The lofty rock called the 
Bass, lying two miles out at sea, is a conspicuous object 
from Tantallon Castle and the neighbouring coast. See 
an account of it in the “ Magazine,’ No. 82. 

The castle was subjected, in the course of the seven- 
teenth century, to two other attacks, which it did not 
stand so well as it had done that directed against it by 
James V. In 1639, being then in the possession of the 
Marquis of Douglas, it was taken by the Covenanters, 
and dismantled. ‘The injuries it sustained upon this 
occasion, however, appear to have been soon after 
repaired, for in the close of the year 1650, when it was 
held by the Marquis as one of the supporters of the 
royal cause, it arain stood out, for a short time, an 
assault made upon it by General Monk, who, after the 
taking of the castle of Edinburgh by Cromwell, was 
dispatched to reduce that of ‘Tantallon, with three 
regiments of horse and foot. After playing against it 
with mortars for forty-eight hours, Mouk found that he 
had made little or no impression on it. He is stated to 
have then applied his battering-euns, and ‘by this means 
he soon forced the garrison to surrender at discretion. 
After this the castle was reduced to ruins; and in that 
state it has remained ever since. Some time after the 
Restoration it was sold, alone with the Bass, by the 
Marquis of Douglas to Sir Hugh Dalrymple; in the 
possession or whose representative both still continue. 





| USE OF CORN IN ENGLAND. 
Abridged from « Vegetable Substances used for the Food of Man. 
Dux Anglo-Saxon monks of the abbey of St: Edmund, 
in the ei¢hth century, ate barley bread, because the 
income of the establishment would not admit of their 
feeding twice or thrice a day on wheaten bread. The 
English labourers of the southern and midland counties, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SEPTEMBER 28, 


in the latter part of the eighteenth century, refused to 
eat bread made of one-third wheat, one-third rye, and 
one-third barley, saying, that ‘‘ they had lost their rye- 
teeth.” It would be a curious and not unprofitable 
inquiry, to trace the progress of the national taste in 
this particular. It would show that whatever privations. 
the Enelish labourer may now endure, and whatever he 
Has endured for many generations, he has succeeded in 
rendering the dearest kind of vegetable food the general 
food of the country. ‘This single circumstance is a 
security to him against those sufferings from actual 
famine which were familiar to his fore-elders, and which 
are still the objects of continual apprehension in thiose 
countries where the labourers live upon the cheapest 
substances. Wages cannot be depressed in such a 
manner as to deprive the labourer, for any length of 
time, of the power of maintaining himself upon the kind 
of food which habit has made necessary to him ; and as 
the ordinary food of the lsnelish labourer ts not the very 
cheapest that can be got, it is in his power to have 
recourse for a while to less expensive articles of sub- 
sistence should any temporary scarcity of food or want 
of employment deprive him of his usual fare,—an 
advantage uot possessed by his Irish fellow-subjects, to 
whom the failure of a potato crop is a matter not of dis- 
coinfort merely, but of absolute starvation. 

In the satire of Pierce Plowman, written in the time 
of Ikdward IIL., it is said, that when the new corn began 
to be sold, 


« Woulde no beggar eat bread that in it beanes were, 
But of coket, and clemantyne, or else clene wheate.’ 


This taste, however, was only to be indulged “ when the 
new corn began to be sold;’ for then a short season of 
plenty succeeded to a long period of fasting; the sup- 
ply of corn was not equalized throughout the year by the 
provident effects of commercial speculation. The fluctu- 
ations in the price of grain, experienced dumng this 
period, and which were partly owing to insufficient 
agricultural skill, were sudden and excessive. On the 
securing of an abundant harvest in 1317, wheat, the 
price of which had been so high as 80s., fell inimediately 
to 6s. 8d. per quarter. The people of those days seem 
always to have looked for a great abatement in the 
price of grain on the successful gathering of every 
harvest; and the inordinate joy of our ancestors at their 
harvest-home—a joy which is faintly reflected in our 
own times—proceeded, there is little doubt, from the 
change which the gathering of the crops produced, 
from want to abundance, from famine to fulness. ‘That 
useful class of men who employ themselves in purchas- 
ing from the producers that they may sell again to the 
consumers, was then unknown in England. Im- 
mediately after the harvest, the people bought their corn 
directly from the farmers at a cheap rate, and, as is 
usual under such circumstances, were improvident in 
the use of it, so that the supply fell short before the 
arrival of the following harvest, and prices advanced out 
of all proportion. 

The Reformation, and the discovery of America, were 
events that had a considerable influence upon the con- 
dition of the great body of the people in England. The 
one drove away the inmates of the monasteries, from 
whence the poor were accustomed to receive donations 
of food; the other, by pouring the precious metals into 
Kurope, raised the price of provisions. In the latter half 
of the sixteenth century, wheat was three times as dear, 
both in England and France, as in the fermer half. The 
price of wheat, upon an average of years, varied very 
little for four centuries before the metallic riches of the 
New World were brought into Europe; upon an 
average of years it has varied very little since. ‘The 
people of the days of Henry VIII. feli the change in 
the money-value of provisions, although the real value 


1833] 


remained the same; and they ascribed the circumstance 
to the dissolution of the monasteries. ‘There is an old 
song of that day in the Somersetshire dialect, which 
indicates the nature of the popular error :— 
Tl tell thee what, good vellowe, 
Before the vriars went hence, 
A bushel of the best wheate 
Was zold for vourteen pence ; 
And vorty eggs a penny 
That were both good and newe; 
And this, I say, myself have seen, 
And yet I am no Jewe.” 

When wheat was fourteen-pence a bushel, it was 
probably consumed by the people, in seasons of plenty, 
and soon after harvest. During a portion of the year 
there is little doubt that the English labourers had 
better food than the French, who, in the fifteenth 
century, were described by Fortescue thus :—‘* Thay 
drynke water, thay eate apples, with bred nght brown, 
made of rye.” Locke, travelling in France, in 1678, 
says of the peasantry in his journal, “ ‘Their ordinary 
food, rye bread and water.” ‘The English always dis- 
liked what they emphatically termed ‘* changing the 
white loaf for the brown.” Their dislike to brown bread 
in some degree prevented the change which they pro- 
verbially dreaded. In the latter part of the sixteenth 
century, however, this change was pretty general, what- 
ever was the previous condition of the people. Harrison 
says, speaking of the aericultural population, “ As for 
wheaten bread, they eat it when they can reach unto the 
price of it, contenting themselves, in the mean time, with 
bread made of oates or barlie, a poore estate, God wot !” 
In another place, he says, ‘“‘ The bread throughout the 
land is made of such graine as the soil yieldeth ; never- 
theless, the gentilitie commonlie provide themselves 
sufficiently of wheate for their own tables, whilst their 
househoid and poore neighbours, in some shires, are 
inforeed to conteut themselves with rye or barlie.”’ 
‘Harrison then goes on to describe the several sorts 
of bread made in England at his day, viz. mancliet, 
cheat, or wheaten bread; another inferior sort of bread, 
called ravelled; and lastly, brown bread. Of the latter 
there were two sorts: “‘ One baked up as it cometh 
from the mill, so that neither the bran nor the floure are 
any whit diminished. ‘The other hath no floure left 
therein at all; and it is not only the worst and weakest 
of all the other sorts, but also appointed in old time for 
servants, slaves, aud the inferior kind of people to feed 
upon. Hereunto, likewise, because it is drie and brickle 
in the working, some add a portion of rie-meale in owr 
time, whereby the rough drinesse thereof is somewhat 
qualified, and then it is named mescelin, that is, bread 
made of mingled corne.” In the household book of Sir 
Edward Coke, in 1596, we find constant entries of oat- 
meal for the use of the house, besides “ otmell to make 
the poore folkes porage,’ and “‘ rie-meall, to make 
breade for the poore.” ‘The household wheaten bread was 
partly baked in the house and partly taken of the baker. 
In the same year it appears, from the historian Stow, 
that there was a great fluctuation in the price of corn; 
and he particularly mentions the price of oatmeal, which 
would indicate that it was an article of general con- 
sumption, as well in a liquid form as in that of the oat- 
cakes of the north of England. 

In 1626, Charles I., upon an occasion of subjecting 
the brewers and maltsters to a royal license, declared 
that the measure was ‘“‘ for the relief of the poorer sort 
of his people, whose usual bread was barley; and for 
the restraining of innkeepers and victuallers, who made 
their ale and beer too strong and heady.” The grain to 
be saved by the weakness of the beer was for the benefit 

of the consumers of barley-bread. 

At the period of the Revolution, (1689,) wheaten 

bread formed, in comparison with its present consump- 


tion, a small portion of the food of the people. of Eng-_ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


371 


land. ‘The following estimate of the then produce of the 
arable land in the kingdoin tends to prove this position 
‘This estimate was made by Gregory Kine, whose — 
tistical calculations have generally - Ween cousidered 
entitled to credit. 

Bushels. 


Vetches . 


Wheat .« . » « «© . 14,000,000 
eee es hlelUle:C~ «(10,000,000 
Barley ® ° ® ® a € 27 000,000 
Oats @ ® ® ® ® a . 16,000,000 
Pease a a ® ° a 7,000,000 
Beans 9 a ® ® 3 é 4,000,000 


» 1,000,000 


——./ _ — 


In all 79,000,000 


At the commencement of the last century, wheaten 
bread became much more generally used by the labour- 
ing classes, a proof that their condition was improved. 
In 1725, it was even used in poor-houses, in the 
southern counties. The author of ‘ Three Tracts on the 
Corn Trade,” published at the beginning of the reion of 
George III., says, “It is certain that bread made of 
wheat is become much more generally the food of the 
common people since 1689 than it was before that time ; 
but it is still very far from being the food of the people 
in general.” He then enters into a very curious calcu- 
lation, the results of which are as follow: ‘* The whole 
number of people is 6,000,000, and of those who eat 

Wheat, the number is, - « 3,750,000 





Barley rs e ° ® ® e ® ® 739,000 
Rye > e * ® o e ® a 3 888,000 
Oats o @ -6 * «© @# ° 623,000 


Total 6,000,000” 


‘This calculation applies only to England and Wales. 
Of the number consuming wheat, the proportion assigned 
to the northern counties of York, Westmoreland, 
Durham, Cumberland, and Northumberland, is only 
30,000. HKden, in his History of the Poor, says, “ About 
fifty years ago, (this was written in 1797,) so small was 
the quantity of wheat used in the county of Cumberland, 
that it was only a rich family that used a peck of wheat 
in the course of the year, and that was used at Christ- 
mas. ‘The usual treat for a stranger was a thick oat- 
cake (called haver-bannock) and butter. An old labourer 
of eighty-five remarks that, when he was a boy, he was 
at Carlisle market with his father, and wishing to in- 
dulge himself with a penny loaf made of wheat-flour, he 
searched for it for some time, but could not procure a 
piece of wheaten bread at any shop in the town.” 

At the time of the Revolution, according to the esti- 
mate of Gregory King, 14,000,000 bushels of wheat 
were grown in England. In 1828, according to the 
estimate of Mr. Jacob, in his Tracts on the Corn Trade, 
12,500,000 quarters, or 100,000,000 bushels, were 
srown. ‘Lhe population of England at the Revolution 
was under five millions, so that each person consumed 
about three bushels annually. ‘The population, at the 
present time, is under fifteen millions, so that each per- 
son consumes about seven bushels annuall7. 





Public Observatory —A Correspondent, who signs him- 
self “« A Man of Kent,” says, “ Last week, for a shilling, I 
was able to make acquaintance with an aquatic world, 
whose existence I, till then, had never been aware of. The 
‘ Hydro-oxygen Microscope’ convinced me that a dewdrop 
may be as full of moving beings as Almack’s. But I have 
been all my life—or half my life—that is, all the nights of if, 
desiring a nearer acquaintance with the stars; and I wish 
that my honest shilling could procure me admission to some 
observatory, where I could contemplate those enormous 
evidences of the Creator's power with as much ease as I 
did the minute atoms whose existeuce I had never known 
of before.” The hint appears to us well wortny the atten- 
tion of those who have capital and enterprise. We have 
little doubt that the prevailing desire for knowledge would 
render a cheap Observatory one of the most attractive objects 
in the metropolis, 

3 B2 


[SEPTEMBER 28, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


37% 


THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON. 


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1833.] 


presence of the Duke of Norfolk, the late Earl of Car- 
narvon, Lord Auckland, the present Lord Chancellor, 
the late Sir James Mackintosh, and others of the most 
distinguished individuals in the country for rank and 
talent. ‘Ihe mallet employed upon the occasion, it may 
be worth noticing, was the same which Wren had used 
in ‘laying the foundation-stone of St. Paul’s Cathedral, 
having: been presented by the great architect to the’ Ma- 
sonic Lodge of Antiquity, of which he was a member. 
The building, thus commenced, was carried on with ex- 
traordinary dispatch ; and the central portion of it—all 
of the original design which it was intended to proceed 
with for the present—having been completed, the New Uni- 
versity was formally opened on the Ist of October, 1828. 

On this occasion an audience of from eight hundred 
to one thousand persons, who had been admitted by 
tickets, assembled in one of the large theatres of ‘the 
building, when they were addressed in an introductory 
lecture on the subject of his course by Mr. (now Sir 
Charles) Bell, the Professor of Physiology and Surgery. 
Most of the members of the Council, and many other 
eminent public characters, were present. On the follow- 
ing day Dr. Conolly delivered his introductory lecture 
on the Nature and Treatment of Diseases; and he was 
followed on ‘so many successive days’ by the Professors 
of Anatomy, of the. Materia Medica, and of Chemical 
Medicine. Dr. Turner, the Professor of Chemistry, 
commenced his course on the 15th. The Classes of 
Science and General Education were opened on the 
24th, by an introductory lecture from the Rev. T. Dale, 
on the English Language and Literature. 

In looking back upon the progress of this Institution, 
it is most satisfactory to know that the foundation at least 
has been laid of an undertaking which seems to promise 
the most important results. In the new University, the 
business of instruction may be expected to be conducted 
in the spirit of the existing age, and with the aid of 
whatever improvements the advanced state of society has 
discovered. Here ought always to be obtained the best 
education which the country affords, or for which there 
is any demand. ‘This Institution seems to be fitted to 


accompany the onward course of the general intelligence, | 


and even to lead and accelerate its march. Already a 
second academic institution has been called into existence 
in the metropolis by its example. 
centre both of population and of wealth in the kingdom, 
is now possessed of two Universities, having been 
but a few years ago almost the only capital of Europe 
which had not one. . The vast multitude of its inhabitants 
can now have the best education for their sons in all the 
highest branches of learning, without sending them away 
trom the moral shelter of the parental roof. This com- 
bination of the advantages of a public and academic 
education with those of domestic residence and guardian- 
ship, was one of the main objects contemplated in the 
original -design of the London University ; and a more 
important object could not- have been contemplated with 
regard to the formation of character, moral and intellec- 
tual. Another was the establishment of schools of 
law and medicine, neither of which existed at Oxford 
or Cambridge. This latter object has been attended 
with remarkable success.. The medical classes in par- 
ticular have from the first been numerously attended ; 
and while some other departments of the Institution 
have still to strugele with considerable difficulties and 
discouragements, these may be regarded as having 
already attained a remarkable degree of prosperity, 
aud established themselves on a secure basis. The 
foundation of a Hospital, in connexion with the Uni- 
versity, will not only afford the medical pupils every 
facility for that best instruction which is furnished by 
observation and experience, but will confer a great 
benefit on the inhabitants of that very populous district 
in which this Institution is situated. 


aad 


THE PENNY 


London, the chief’ 


MAGAZINE. 373 

A most important addition has also been made to the 
original design of the University, by the School, or Semi- 
nary of Elementary Instruction, which is now attached 
to it. This part of the establishment’ was opened in 
the beginning of last year, and the success of the expe- 
rinent has equalled the most sanguine expectations that 
were formed of it. According to the arrangement which 
has been latterly adopted, the Professors of Latin and 
Greek in the University are the conductors or head- 
inasters of the School. Associated with them are four 
assistant-masters in the classical department, together 
with teachers of French, of German, of English Elocu- 
tion, of Mathematics and Arithmetic, of Book-keeping 
and Writing, and of Drawing. The period of attendance 
is five hours every day, except on Saturday, when it is 
only three hours. Discipline is’ maintained without cor- 
poral chastisement—the extreme punishment for mis- 
conduct being dismissal from the school, which excludes 
the individual from the University. 


LIBRARIES FOR WORKING MEN. 


Ir affords us great pleasure to observe that, in several 
towns and villages, the mechanic and the labourer may 
now obtain useful and amusing books to read upon the 
payment of a.véry small subscription. Such institutions 
we have no doubt. will become generally established. 
A “ Public Library” of this open nature has been recently 
founded for the use of the people of Windsor and Eton; 
and Sir John Herschel. who unites to profound scientific 
attainments an ardent desire for the general diffusion 
of knowledge, is president of the institution. In the 
discharge of the duties of that office, he read an address 
to the subscribers to the brary on the 29th of January 
last, which has just been published. ‘This little tract is 
remarkable for its liberal and manly spirit, and its sound 
sense. In the conviction that it will be agreeable to the 
author that his benevolent views of the important subject 
of education should be widely disseminated, we shall 
venture to’ quote somewhat largely from this ad- 
dress. 7 

After noticing the immense national importance of 
endeavouring to enforce the standard of moral and 
intellectual culture in the mass of the people, the Presi- 
dent of the Windsor and Eton Public Library adverts to 
the regulations by which the books are accessible to the 
humbler classes, It appears that in this establishment 
there are two rates of subscription,—the one admit- 
tine the subscriber to a reading-room, furnished with 
newspapers and periodical works, and entitling him to 
the loan of the standard works of the library,—-the 
other throwing open the library only to a humbler class. 
This is, no doubt, a judicious arrangement. Sir John 
Herschel regrets that the use of the library is not alto- 
gether gratuitous for certain readers. Of the prudence 
of such a plan we have considerable doubts. Experience 
has undeniably shown, that what is given away is often 
little prized by those who receive it; and, besides this, 
the payment of even a penny a week to a library makes 
the working man feel as independent as the wealthier 
subscriber. While his mind is being elevated by the 
process of acquiring knowledge, it ust not be degraded 
by the feeling that others are paying for the means of 
his improvement. vo" 

It has always appeared to us that those who have little 
leisure for reading, and whose hour of leisure is often 
an hour of weariness, must be principally attracted to a 
book by the desire of amusement. Sir John Herschel, 
has put this point so forcibly that we cannot refrain 
from giving his argument entire :— 

‘ There is a want too much lost sight of in our esti- 
mate of the privations of the humbler classes, though it is 
one of the most incessantly craving: of all our wants, and 
is actually the impelling power which, in the vast majority 


374 


of cases, ure’es men into vice and crime,—it is the want 
ofamusement. It is in vain to declaim against it. 
Equally with any other principle of our nature, it calls 
for its natural indulgence, and cannot be permanently 
debarred from it, without souring the temper, and spoil- 
ing the character. ike the indulgence of all other 
appetites, it only requires to be kept within due bounds, 
and turned upon innocent or beneficial objects, to be- 
come a spring of happiness ; but gratified to a certain 
moderate extent it must be, in the case of every man, 
if we desire him to be either a useful, active, or contented 
imember of society. Now I would ask, what provision 
do we find for the cheap and innocent and daily amuse- 
ments of the mass of the labouring population of this 
country? What sort of resources have they to call up 
the cheerfulness of their spirits, and chase away the 
cloud from their brow after the fatigue of a day’s hard 
work, or the stupefying monotony of some sedentary 
occupation? Why, really very littl—I hardly like to 
assume the appearance of a wish to rip up grievances 
by saying how little. ‘The pleasant field walk and the 
village ereen are becoming rarer and rarer every year. 
Music and dancing (the more’s the pity) have become 
so closely associated with ideas of riot and debauchery, 
amons: the less cultivated classes, that a taste for them 
for their own sakes can hardly be said to exist; and 
before they can be recommended as innocent or safe 
amusements, a very great change of ideas must take 
place. ‘The beer-shop and the public-house, it is true, 
are always open, and always full, but it is not by those 
institutions that the cause of moral and intellectual 
culture is advanced. ‘The truth is, that under the pres- 
sure of a continually condensing population, the habits 
of the city have crept into the village—the demands of 
agriculture have become sterner and more imperious ; 
and while hardly a foot of ground is left uncultivated 
and unappropriated, there is positively not space left for 
many of the cheerful amusements of rural life. Now, 
since this appears to be unavoidable, and as it is physi- 
cally impossible that the amusements of a condensed 
population should continue to be those of a scattered 
one, it behoves us strongly to consider of some substi- 
tutes. But perhaps it may appear to some almost pre- 
posterous to enter on the question. Why, the very 
name of a labourer has something about it with which 
amusement seems out of character. Labour is work, 
amusement is play; and though it has passed into a 
proverb that one without the other will make a dull boy, 
we seem to have altogether lost sicht of a thing equally 
obvious—that a community of § dsli boys,’ in this sense, 
is only another word for a society of ignorant, headlong, 
and ferocious men. 

“I hold it, therefore, to be a matter of very great 
consequence, independent of the kindness of the thing, 


that those who are at their ease in this world should - 


look about and be at some pains to furnish available 
means of harmless gratification to the industrious and 
well-disposed classes, who are worse provided for than 
themselves in every respect, but who, on that very 
account, are prepared to prize nore highly every acces- 


sion of true enjoyment, and who really want it more. - 


To do so is to hold out a bonus for the withdrawal of a 
man from mischief in his idle hours—it is to break that 
strong tie which binds many a once to evil associates and 
brutal habits—the want of something better to amuse 
him,—by actually making his abstinence become its 
own reward. 

_ “* Now, of all the amusements which can possibly be 
Imagined for a hard-working man, after his daily toil, 
or In its tervals, there is nothing like reading an enter- 
taining book, Supposing him to have a taste for it, and 
aupposiug him to have the book to read. It calls for no 
bodily exertion, of which he has had enough or too 
much. It relieves his home of its dullness and same- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SEPTEMBER Q8, 


ness, which, in nine cases out of ten, is what drives him 
out to the ale-house, to his own ruin and his family’s, 
It transports him into a livelier, aud gayer, and more 
diversified and interesting scene; and while he eujoys 
himself there, he may forget the evils of the present 
moment, fully as much as if he were ever so drunk, with 
the great advantage of finding himself the next day with 
his money in his pocket, or at least laid out in real 
necessaries and comforts for himself and his family,— 
and ‘without a headache. Nay, it accompanies him to 
his next day’s work, and if the book he has been reading 
be anything above the very idlest and lightest, gives him 
something to think of besides the mere mechanical 
drudgery of his every-day occupation,—something he 
can enjoy while absent, and look forward with pleasure 
to return to. 

‘ But supposing him to have been fortunate in the 
choice of his book, and to have alighted upon one really 
vood and of a good class. What a source of domestic 
enjoyment is laid open! What a bond of family union ! 
He may read it aloud, or make his wife read it, or his 
eldest boy or girl, or pass it round from hand to hand. 
All have the benefit of it—all contribute to the gratifica- 
tion of the rest, and a feeling of common interest and 
pleasure is excited. Nothing unites people like com- 
panionship in intellectual enjoyment. It does more, it 
sives them mutual respect, and to each among them 
self-respect—that corner-stone of all virtue. It furnishes 
to each the master-key by which he may avail himself 
of his privilege as an intellectual being, to 

‘Enter the sacred temple of his breast, 
And gaze and wander there a ravished guest ; 


Wander through all the glories of his mind, 
Gaze upon ali the treasures he shall find.’ 


And while thus leading him to look within his own 
bosom for the ultimate sources of his happiness, warns 
him at the saine time to be cautious how he defiles and 
desecrates that inward and most ¢lorious of temples.” 

The best sorts of reading to be provided for the humbler 
classes are pointed out by Sir John Herschel with great 
felicity. We are well pleased to have so excellent an au- 
thority in support of the principle which we have endea- 
voured to bear in mind, that no distinctions ought to be 
made between the reading for one class of the community 
and the reading for another class. The patronizing, con- 
descending style in which the workine-people are to be 
addressed is, we trust, worn out. Perspicuous thoughts, 
expressed in the clearest language,—this is the best defi- 
nition of a good style, whether for the rich or the poor. 
The address before us puts this point very forcibly :— 

“If then we would generate a taste for reading, we 
must, as our only chance of success, begin by pleasing. 
And what is more, this must be not only the ostensible, 
but the real object of the works we offer. ‘The listless- 
ness and want of sympathy with which most of the works 
written expressly for circnlation among the labouring 
classes are read by them, if read at all, arises mainly 
from this—that the story told, or the lively or friendly 
style assumed, is manifestly and palpably only a cloak 
for the instruction intended to be conveyed,—a sort of 
cilding of what they canuot well help fancying must be 
a pill, when they see so much and such obvious pains 
taken to wrap it up. 

* But try iton the other tack. Furnish them libe- 
rally with books not written expressly for them as a class 
—but published for their betters (as the phrase is), and 
those the best of their kind, You wil soon find that 
they have the same feelings to be imterested by the va- 
rieties of fortune and incident,—the same discernment to 
perceive the shades of character,—the same relish for 
striking contrasts of good and evil in moral conduct, and 
the same irresistible propensity to take the good side— 
the same perception of the sublime and beautiful in na- 
ture and art, when distinctly placed before them by the 


1333. 


touches of a master—and, what is most of all to the 
present purpose, the same desire, having once been 
pleased, to be pleased again. In short, you will find 
that in the higher and better class of works of fiction 
and imagination duly circulated, you possess all you 
require to-strike your grappling-iron into their souls, and 
chain them, willing followers, to the car of advancing 
civilization. 

* When I speak of works of imagination and fiction, 
I would not have it supposed that I would turn loose 
among the class of readers to whom I am more especi- 
ally referring, a whole circulating library of novels. 
The novel, in its best form, I regard as one of the most 
powerful engines of civilization ever invented—but not 
the foolish romances which used to be the terror of our 
maiden aunts; not the insolent productions which the 
press has lately teemed with under the title of fashion- 
able novels—nor the desperate attempts to novelize 
history which the herd of Scott’s imitators have put 
forth, which have left no cpoch since the creation un- 
tenanted by modern antiques, and no character in history 
unfalsified ;—but the novel as it has been put forth by 
Cervantes and Richardson, by Goldsmith, by Edgeworth, 
and Scott. In the writings of these and such as these, 
we have a stock of works in the highest degree enticing 
and interesting, and of the utmost purity and morality— 
full of admirable lessons of conduct, and calculated in 
every respect to create and cherish that invaluable habit 
of resorting to books for pleasure. ‘Those who have 
once experienced the enjoyment of such works will not 
easily learn to abstain from reading, and will not wil- 
lingly descend to an inferior grade of intellectual privi- 
lege—they have become prepared for reading of a higher 
order——and may be expected to relish the finest strains 
of poetry, and to draw with advantage from the purest 
wells of history and philosophy. Nor let it be thought 
ridiculous or overstrained to associate the idea of poetry, 
history, or philosophy, with the homely garb and penu- 
rious fare of the peasant. How many a rough hind, on 
Highland hills, is as familiar with the ‘ Paradise Lost,’ 
or the works of his great national historians, as with his 
own sheep-hook! Under what circumstances of penury 
aud privation is not a high degree of literary cultivation 
mamtained in Iceland itself—~ 

* In climes beyond the solar road, 
Where savage forms o’er ice-built mountains roam ; 


The muse has broke the twilight gloom 
Lo cheer the shivering native’s dull abode !’ 


And what is there in the character or circumstances of 
an Iinglishman that should place him, as a matter of 
necessity, and for ever, on a Jower Jevel of intellectual 
culture than his brother Highlander, or the natives of 
the most inhospitable country inhabited by man? At 


least, there is always this advantage in aiming at the | 


highest results—that the failure is never total, and that 
though the end accomplished may fall far short of that 
proposed, it cannot but reach far in advance of the point 
irom which we start. ‘There never was any ereat and 
permanent good accomplished but by hoping for and 
aiming at something still greater and better.’ 

We add one or two detached passages from this ex- 
cellent tract :— 

Vintace Linrnusiasm.—* I recollect an anecdote 
told me by a late highly-respected inhabitant of Windsor 
as a fact which he could personally testify, having oc- 
curred in a village where he resided several years, and 
where he actually was at the time it took place. The 
blacksmith of the village had got hold of Richardson's 
novel of ‘ Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded,’ and used to 
read it alond in the long summer evenings, seated on 
his anvil, and never failed to have a large and attentive 
audience. It is a pretty long-winded book—but their 
patieuce was fully a match for the author’s prolixity, and 
they fairly listened to it all, At length, when the happy 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


375 


turn of fortune arrived, which brings the hero and 
heroine together, and sets them living long and happily — 
according to the most approved rules—the congremation 
were so delighted as to raise a great shout, and procuring 
the church keys, actually set the parish bells ringing. 
Now let any one say whether it is easy to estimate the 
amount of good done in this simple case. Not to speak 
of the number of hours agreeably and innocently spent 
—not to speak of the good-fellowship and harmony 
promoted—here was a whole rustic population fairly 
won over to the side of good—charmed—and, nicht 
after’ night, spell-bound within that magic circle which 
genius can trace so effectually, and compelled to bow 
before that image of virtue and purity which (though at 
a great expense of words) no one knew better how to 
body forth with a thousand life-like touches than the 
author of that work.” 

A Taste ror Reapina.—* If I were to pray for a 
taste which should stand me in stead under every variety 
of circumstances, and be a source of happiness and 
cheerfulness to me through life, and a shield against its 
ills, however things might go amiss, and the world 
frown upon me, it would be a taste for reading. I speak 
of it of course only as a worldly advantage, and not in 
the slightest degree as superseding or derogating from 
the higher office and surer and stronger panoply of reli- 
gious principles—but as a taste, an instrument, and a 
mode of pleasurable gratification., Give a man this 
taste, and the means of gratifying it, and you can hardly 
fail of making a happy man, unless, indeed, you put 
into his hands a most perverse selection of books. You 
place him in contact with the best society in every period 
of history, with the wisest, the wittiest, with the ten- 
derest, the bravest, and the purest characters who have 
adorned humanity. You make him a denizen of a!l 
nations,—a -cotemporary of all ages. The world has 
been created for him., It is hardly possible but the 
character should take a higher and better tone from the 
constant habit of associating in thought with a class of 
thinkers, to say the least of it, above the average of 
humanity. It is morally impossible but that the man- 
ners should take a tinge of wood-breeding and civiliza- 
tion from having constantly before one’s eyes the way in 
which the best-bred and the best-informed men have 
talked and conducted themselves in their interceurse 
with each other. There is a gentle, but perfectly irre- 
sistible coercion in a habit of reading, well directed, over 
the whole tenor of a man’s character and conduct, 
which is not the less effectual because it works insen- 
sibly, and because it is really the last thing be dreams 
of. It cannot, in short, be better summed up, than in 
the words of the Latin poet— 


‘EKmollit mores, nec sinit esse feros,’ 


It civilizes the conduct of men, and suffers them not to 
remain barbarous.” 


Deer Hunting by American Indians.—In the great plains 
between Oakinagan and Spokan there are at particular 
seasons numbers of small deer. The editor of Lewis and 
Clarke classes them as antelopes; but how much soever 
they may resemble those animals in swiftness and shape, 
their horns, as described by naturalists, are totally different. 
Their flesh is sweet and delicate, and they generally go in 
small herds. Towards the latter end of the summer they 
are in prime condition, and at that season we had some 
excellent sport in hunting them. The Indians, however, 
are not satisfied with our method of taking them in detail. 
On ascertaining the direction the deer have chosen, part of 
their hunters take a circuit in order to arrive in front of the 
herd, while those behind set fire to the long grass, the flames 
of which spread with great rapidity. In their flight from 
the devouring element they’are intercepted by the hunters, 
and, while they hesitate between these dangers, great num- 
bers fall by the arrows of the Indians —AHoss Coa’'s Adven- 


tures on the Columbia River, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Serremper 28, 1833, 


THE CASSOWARY. 


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[ Cassowaries.] - 


Tuer wood-cut adjomed to this article represents the 
male ‘cassowary, and has been drawn from -specimens 
in the Surrey Zoological Gardens. * This scarce and 
remarkable bird (the Struthio Casuarius of Linneus) is 
found in India, and the most eastern part of the old 
continent. Even in its native regions it is uncommon ; 
and few are domesticated. The hebitual dulness of 
these birds, their disagreeable voice, and their hard, 
black flesh, offer no compensation for the cost of rearing 
and supporting them. The wild cassowary feeds on 
fruits, tender roots, and occasionally on the young of 
small animals. # The tame are fed not only on fruits, but 
ou bread, of which they consume about four pounds 
a-day. They run very swiftly, and often outstrip the 
fleetest horses. They resist dogs by dealing them severe 
blows with their feet. 
his mate to the cares of incubation, which are required 
only at night; for during the day, their three greyish 
egos, spotted with green, are exposed to the vivifying 
effects of the sun, being slightly covered with sand in the 
hole where they have been laid. In captivity, their 
incubation lasts eight and twenty days. The first 
cassowary ever seen in Europe was brought by the Dutch 
In 1597. ae 

The head of the cassowary is almost -bare, covered 
with a bluish skin, out of which grow a few scattered 
hairs. It is crowned with a conical helmet, brown in 
front and yellow in other parts; this helmet is formed 
by the swelling of the skull-bones. The throat is Over- 
spread with sponey glandular membranes, of a red and 
violet colour, which hang down in front. “he body is 
covered with feathers of a bluish-black, of a particular 
character, somewhat similar to long thin hair. The 


feather of the wing, or what represents the wing, for it } 


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The male bird generally leaves 


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wipes, free 





Novel Exhibition.—A Correspondent informs us that a 
very beautiful brass model of a steam-engine has been 
exhibited at the late Bristol September Fair, which sets in 
motion a miniature exhibition of the whole process of silk 
manufacture, from the winding the silk from the cocoon to its 
final weaving in the loom. ‘The boiler and machine were. 
on the outside of the caravan. The exhibition attracted 
the greatest notice, both on account of the novelty of the 
attempt, and the beautiful ease and regularity of its motions. 
Our Correspondent adds,—‘‘ My motive for mentioning this 
circumstance, which may seem trifling to those whio are ac- 
customed to the many novelties which a large and long- 
continued fair exhibits, is to commend the good sense of the 
individuals who thus introduced before the noisy crowds 
who frequent such .places, a model, the omginal of which 
has produced such wonderful changes in the conditions of 
almost all nations. Should the exhibition of mechanical 
and philosophical apparatus become general at our fairs, it 
is to be hoped that the passion for trifling amusements will 
be changed into a relish for higher gratifications of curi- 
osity.”” 





¢.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


pe ee 


Printed by Witttram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. ; 


Howry «ial of 








OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


96.1 


THE COMMERCIAL HISTORY OF A PEN NY MAGAZINE, ae 





August Si to September 30, 


EOSZn 








. INTRODUCTION. 


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[ Paper Making, by Hand. 7 


Witntam Caxton, the first English printer, at the end 
of the first book which he printed, uses the following 
remarkable words :—- = ' 

«© Thus end I this book, which I have translated after 
‘mine author, as nigh as God hath given me cunning ; to 
“whom be given the laud and praising. And forasmuch 
as in the writing of the same my pen Is worn, mine hand 
weary and not “stedfast, mine eyes dimmed with over- 
much looking on the white paper, and my courage not 
so prone ¢ and ready to labour as it hath been, and that 
age creepeth on me daily and feebleth all the body; and 
‘also because I have promised to divers gentlemen and to 
my friends to address to them as hastily as I might this 
‘said book: Therefore I have practised and learned, at 
my great charge and dispense, to ordain this said book 
in print, after the manner and form ‘as ye may here see. 
And (it) is not written with pen and inkas other books be; 
to the end that every man may have them at once. For 
all the books of this story, named the ‘ Recule of the 
Histories of Troyes, thus imprinted as ye here see, were 
begun in one day, and also finished in one day*.” 

Tn this passage we find most of the conditions expressed 
which mark the superiority of the invention of printing 
over the old mode of multiplying books by the pen. 

* Ames’ Typographical Antiquities, by Herbert. We have changed 


the old orthography of the passage. 
Vou. II, 


The transcriber of a manuscript had to contend with the 
weary hand and the dim eyes he could not satisfy the 
wishes of ‘ divers gentlemen” by producing his book 
‘hastily ;”’ and, above all, he could not meet the instant 
demand for copies of an admired production, by allowing 
every man to “ have them at once.” ‘The slow process 
by which he worked was necessarily an expensive process: 

and thus the written books were immoderately dear; and 
so much importance was attached to them as property, 
that in many cases a volume was conveyed from the 
seller to the purchaser by legal assignment. _ On the 
contrary the ‘printer, after certain processes had been 
gone through which were equivalent to the labours of 
tr anscribine: three or four copies, could produce as many 
books as he pleased; and as far as taking off the impres- 
sions was concerned (to which the old printers peculiarly 
applied the name of their art), a small book, such as that 
first printed by Caxton, might be “ begun in one day, 
and also finished in one day.” 

The process of printing, when compared with that of 
writing, is unquestionably a cheap process; provided a 
sufficient number of copies of any particular book are 
printed, so as to render the proportion of the first 
expense upon a single copy inconsiderable. If, for ex- 
ample, it were required, even at the present time, to 
print a single copy, or even three or four copies, only of 

3.C 


378 


any production, the cost of priuting would be greater than 
the cost of transcribing. It is when hundreds, and espe- 
cially thousands, of thesame work are demanded that the 
great value of the printing press in making knowledge 
cheap, is particularly shown. It is probable that the first 
printers did not take off more than two or three hundred, if 
so many, of their works; and, therefore, the earliest printed 
books must have been still dear, on account of the limited 
number of their readers. Caxton, as it appears by a 
passage in one of his books, was a cautious printer; and 
required something like an assurance that he should sell 
enough of any particular book to repay the cost of pro- 
ducing it. In his “ Legends of Saints” he says, “ I 
have submysed (submitted) myself to translate into 
English the ‘ Legend of Saints,’ called ‘ Legenda aurea’ 
in Latin; and William, Earl of Arundel, desired me— 
and promised to take a reasonable quantity of them— 
and sent me a worshipful gentleman, promising that 
my said lord should during my life give and grant to me 
a yearly fee, that is to note, a buck in summer and a 
doe in winter.” Caxton, with his sale of a reasonable 
quantity, and his summer and winter venison, was more 
fortunate than others of his brethren, who speculated 
upon a public demand for books, without any gua- 
rantee from the great and wealthy. Sweynheim and 
Pannartz, Germans who settled in Rome, and _ there 
printed many beautiful editions of the Latin Classics, 
presented a petition to the Pope, in 1471, which con- 
tains the following passage :—‘* We were the first of the 
Germans who introduced this art, with vast labour and 
cost, into your holiness’ territories, in the time of your 
predecessor ; and encouraged, by our example, other 
printers to do the same. If you peruse the catalogue 
of the works printed by us, you will admire how and 
where we could procure a sufficient quantity of paper, 
or even rags, for such a number of volumes. ‘The 
total of these books amounts to 12,475,—a prodigious 
heap,—and -intolerable to us, your holiness’ printers, by 
reason of those unsold. We are no longer able to bear 
the great expense of house-keeping, for want of buyers ; 
of which there cannot be a more flagrant proof than 
that our house, though otherwise spacious enough, is 
full of quire-books, but void of every necessary of life.” 
For some years after the invention of printing, many of 
the ingenious, learned, and enterprising men who devoted 
themselves to the new art which was to change the face 
of society, were ruined, because they could not sell 
cheaply unless they printed a considerable number of a 
book ; and there were not readers enough to take off the 
stock which they thus accumulated. In time, however, 
as the facilities for acquiring knowledge which printing 
afforded created many readers, the trade of printing 
books became one of less cweneral risk; and dealers in 
literature could afford more and more to dispense with in- 
dividual patronage, and rely upon the public demand. 
After the experience of three centuries and a half, the 
power of reading has become so generally diffused; that 
a work like the “ Penny Magazine,” which requires a 
sale of 60,000 or 70,000 copies, before any profit can 
accrue, may be undertaken, witha reliance alone upon 
the general demand arising out of the extended desire of 
knowledge. The periodical sale of 160,000 copies of this 
work is the extreme point which literature has yet 
reached, in contrast with the promise of the Earl of 
Arundel to our first printer, to take of him a reasonable 
quantity of copies, and give him a buck and a doe yearly. 

It has been said, that ‘the bent of civilization is to 
make good things cheap.’ There can be no doubt 


' Section 1—PAPER MAKING. 


IN the petition of Sweynheim and Pannartz to the Pope, 
which we have already quoted, one passage shows that 
the demand for paper, which had been created by the 
new art of printing, was supplied with difficulty. “ If 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[SEPTEMBER 28 


whatever, that in all the processes in which science is ap- 
plied the article produced is not only made better but 
cheaper; and the more ‘the bent of civilization” leads 
to an extension of demand, the more will scientific 
knowledee, and the division of labour, be called into em- 
vloyment. But this is peculiarly the case in all copying 
processes, among which printing is the foremost. If a 
medal be executed for the use of one person only,—that 
is, if the whole expense of making the die be borne by one 
impression from the die,—the cost of one medal must be 
very great. But if many thousand copies of that’medal 
be required, as was the case when the British soldiers 
who had been present at the victory of Waterloo each 
received a medal, the cost of the die, as apportioned to 
each medal, is scarcely anything. Now, instead of the 
die being executed in an inferior manner, when twenty 
thousand impressions are to be taken from it, it is pro- 
bable that the workmanship will be very superior to 
that of the die which is on:y to produce one medal; for 
the co-operation of numbers allows a larger sum to be 
expended in the first cost of the die, without the price of 


each impression being sensibly affected by that cost. It 
is the same with the copying process of printing. The 


cost of authorship, of designs for wood-cuts, and of the 
wood-cuts themselves, of the ‘‘ Penny Magazine,” for 
example, required to produce a yearly volume, amounts, 
in round numbers, to 3,000/., or 60,000 shillings. If 
120,000 copies are sold, that expence is sixpence upon 
each volume; if 60,000, one shilling ; if 10,000, six shil- 
lings; if 3,000, one pound. The purchasers, therefore, 
of a twelvemonths’ numbers of the “ Penny Magazine,” 
for which less than four shillings is paid to the publisher, 
buy not only sixty-four sheets of printed paper, but as 
much labour of literature and art as would cost a pound 
if only 3,000 copies were sold, and six shillings if only 
10,000 were sold. Those, therefore, who attempt to per- 
suade the public that cheap books must essentially be 
bad books, are very shallow, or very prejudiced reasoners. 
The complete reverse is the truth. The cheapness en- 
sures a very laree number of purchasers; and the larger 
the number the greater the power of commercially 
realizing the means for a liberal outlay upon those 
matters in which the excellence of a book chiefly con 

sists,—its text, and its illustrations. It is no doubt trne 
that some cheap books must incidentally be bad books, 
That will be the case, if the condition of great cheapness 
is attempted with the probability of a small demand. 


‘Under such circumstances, the book must either be 


worthless, or the publishers must sustain severe loss. 
In cheap publications, the great object to be aimed at, is 
certainty of sale; -and that certainty can only be at- 
tained by carrying the principle of excellence as far as 
can be compatible with commercial advantage. ‘The 
first element of this certainty is an adequate demand. 

The almost universal circulation of our ‘ Penny 
Magazine” in the United Kingdom ; its republication in 
the United States of America; the establishment of 
works of similar character, (in all respects imitations, ) 
in France, Belgium, Germany, and Russia; and the 
plans already formed and announced for extending such 
publications to Italy, Holland, Poland, and the Brazi!s,— 
these circumstances have led us to think that a popular 
account of all the processes necessary for its production 
would be of very general interest. It is, therefore, our 
intention to devote the present Supplement, and the 
three following Supplements, to this undertaking. About 
twenty wood-cuts will be employed in illustrating the 
subject. : é 


= 


you peruse the catalogue of the works printed by us, you 
will admire how and where we could procure a sufficient 
quantity of paper, or even rags, for such a number of 
volumes,” ‘Ihe total of their books amounted to 12,475 


1833.{ 


volumes. If we average each volume at 50 sheets, of 
the same size as the “ Penny Magazine,” (which is indeed 
the size of the early folios,) we find that the quantity of 
paper thus printed upon was about 1250 reams. Now, 
this is as near as may be the quantity required for three 
humbers only of the “‘ Penny Magazine;” or one 
twentieth of the quantity annually consumed in printing 
sixty-four numbers. In weight the quantity for our an- 
nual consumption amounts to 500,000 Ibs. But then 
the total annual production of first class paper (that is, 
writing and printing paper), in the United Kingdom, is 
about 50,000,009 lbs., or about 100 times as much as 
that used for the “ Penny Magazine,” and more than 
2000 tines as much as the paper used in the 12,475 
voluines of the poor German printers. It is not unlikely, 
therefore, that some of our readers may admire how 
and where we can now procure a sufficient quantity of 
rags for such an immense production of printing and 
writing paper. We will endeavour to explain how this 
is managed. 

_ The material of which the sheet of paper which the 
reader now holds in his hand is formed, existed, a few 
months ago, perhaps in the shape of a tattered frock, 
whose shreds, exposed for years to the sun and wind, 
covered the sturdy loins of the shepherd watching his 
sheep on the plains of Hungary;—or it might have 
formed part of the coarse blue shirt of the Italian sailor, 
ou board some little trading vessel of the Mediterranean ; 
—or it might have pertained to the once tidy camicia of 
the neat straw-plaiter of Tuscany, who, on the eve 
of some festival, when her head was intent upon gay 
things, condemned the garment to the stracci-vendolo* 
of Leghorn; or it might have constituted the coarse 
covering of the flock bed of the farmer of Saxony, or 
once looked bright in the damask table-cloth of the 
burgher of Hamburgh ;—or, lastly, it might have been 
Swept, new and unworn, out of the vast collection of the 
shreds and patches, the fustian and buckram, of a London 
tailor,—or might have accompanied every revolution of 
a fashionable coat in the shape of lining—having travelled 
from St. James’s to St. Giles’s—from Bond Street to Mon- 
mouth Street—from Rag Fair to the Dublin Liberty— 
till man disowned the vesture, and the kennel-sweeper 
claimed its miserable remains +. In each or all of these 
forms, and in hundreds more which it would be useless 
to describe, this sheet of paper a short time since might 
have existed. The rags of our own country do not fur- 
nish a fifth part of what we consume in the manufacture 
of pvaper. France, Holland, and Belgium prohibit, 
under severe penalties, the exportation of rags, because 
they require them for their own long-established manu- 
factories. Spain and Portugal also prohibit their ex- 
portation. Italy and Germany furnish the principal 
supplies of linen rags, both to Great Britain and the 
United States. They are exported from Bremen, Ham- 
burgh, Rostock, Ancona, Leehorn, Messina, Palermo, 
and ‘Trieste. They arrive in our ports in closely packed 
bags, containing each about four hundred-weigiht, which, 
according to the respective qualities of the rag, are marked 
SPEP,SPP,FF, FX, and FB. There are many 
varieties of rag even in these divisions; and their qualities 
are pretty clear indications of the state of comfort and 
cleanliness in particular districts and countries. The 
linen rags of England are generally very clean, and 
require little washing and no bleaching, before they are 
ground into pulp ;- the Secilian rags, on the contrary, 
are Originally so dirty, that they are washed in lime 
before they are fit for the foreign market. The greater 


* Rag-merchant. The rags of Italy, as well as of other coun- 
tries, are collected by travelling dewers, who convey them to the 
depositories in the towns. . 

Tt Lhe chiffonmers (rag-dealers) of Paris rose against the police, 
a year or two ago, because it was ordered, in certain municipal 
regulations, that the filth of the streets should be taken away in 
carts, without time being allowed for its examination by those 
diligent savers of capital. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


379 


portion of the rags from the north of Kurope are so dark 
in their colour and so coarse in their texture, that it is 
difficult to imagine how they could have forned part of 
any inner garments; while those, on the other hand, 
which are collected at home, evidently belong toa people 
who are clothed in “ fine linen” every day. 

In a rightly-managed paper-mill no substance but 
rags enters into the composition of first-class paper. 
Dishonest manufacturers have, indeed, employed plaster 
of Paris in large quantities ; but we believe the practice is 
very generally discontinued. Many experiments have been 
made upon substances proposed as substitutes for rags 
In the manufacture of paper. The bark of the willow, 
the beech, the aspen, the hawthorn, and the lime, have 
been made into tolerable paper; the tendrils of the vine, 
and the stalks of the nettle, the mallow, and the thistle, 
have been used for a similar purpose; the bine of our 
own hops, it is affirmed, will produce paper enough for 
the use of England; and several patents have been 
granted for making paper of straw. The process of 
bleaching the coarser rags, so as to render them fit for 
the purposes to which only those of the finest qualities 
were formerly applied, will, however, render the use of 
these inferior substances unnecessary for many years. 
But the time may probably come when we shall obtain 
no rags from other countries. 'The advance of a people in 
civilization has not only a tendency to make the supply 
of rags abundant, but, at the same time, to increase the 


‘demand forrags. ‘The use of machinery in manufactures 


renders clothing cheap; the cheapness of clothing 
causes ifs consumption to increase, not only in the pro- 
portion of an increasing population, but by the scale of 
individual expenditure; the stock of rags is therefore 
increasing in the same ratio that our looms produce 
more linen and cotton cloth. But then the increase of 
knowledge runs in a parallel:line with this increase of 
comforts; and the increase of knowledge requires an 
increase of books. The principle of publishing books 
and tracts, to be read by thousands instead of tens and 
hundreds, has already caused a large addition to the 
demand for printing-paper. In 1829 the excise-duty 
on paper amounted to £728,000; in 1832 to £815,000. 
If, therefore, the demand for books, not only in Eug- 
land but in all civilized countries, should outrun, which 
it is very likely to do, the power of each individual to 
wear out linen and cotton clothing to supply the de- 
mand, paper must be manufactured from other sub- 
stances than rags, 








The paper upon which the ‘‘ Penny Magazine” is 
printed is chiefly manufactured at Albury Mill, near 
Guildford, belonging to Mr. Magnay. Paper-mills in 
the south of England are set in motion by water-power, 
—that is, they are placed upon some small stream, 
which, being dammed up, sets the whieels in motion, as 
in a flour-mill. In the north of England, where coal 
is abundant, paper-mills employ steam-power; and in 
the present mode of manufacturing paper, in which heat 
is essential, it is probable that the article can be pro- 
duced at a lower rate by this process. A paper-mill, 
moved by water-power, is generally a very agreeable 
object. It is in most instances situated In some pretty 
valley, through which the little river a'lides ;—and as it 
is important that the water, (which Is not only employed 
for turning the wheels, but for converting the rags into 
pulp,) should be of the purest quality, the stream is gene- 
rally one of those transparent ones which are so common 
in England—now bubbling over pebbly shallows, and 
now sleeping in quiet depths. ‘The paper-mill at Albury 
is of this picturesque character. We think it better to 
describe the process of paper-making as we sawit at this 
mill, than to adopt a more general description, which 
mieht appear to have less reality about it. 

The first process is strangely in contrast with the 


general appearance of cleanliness which distinguishes 2 


$C 2 


380 


paper-mill. In along room, filled with dust, are some 
twenty or thirty women employed in sorting and cutting 
rags. Each woman stands at a frame, or table, whose 
to) is covered with wire: on her left is a quantity of 
rages ; on her rig@lit a box divided into three compartments. 
On 4 part of he table an upright knife, about a foot 
long, is fixed. ‘This formidable instrument looks like 
the troken blade of a scythe, and we believe it 1s so. 
It is the business of the woman to sort and cut the rags. 
She spreads a few on the wire frame before which ake 
stands ; and as she shakes them a great deal of the dirt 
passes through the wire to a box beneath. If the pieces 
are small enough, —and they are required not to be 
larger than three or four inches square,—she throws 
each piece into one of the compartments of the box on 
her right, according to its quality. If a piece requires 
to be cut, she draws it across the blade of the knife, by 
which it is instantly divided. She is particularly careful 
to put all seams by themselves; for the sewing thread, 
if not thoroughly ground, would produce filaments in 
the paper. These operations are performed with great 
rapidity. An active workwoman can sort and cut about 
a hundred-weight a day. When cut and sorted the 
rags are weighed, and removed in bags containing each 
a hundred-weight. 

In looking at the operations of the rag-room, the 
first impression of the visitor is, that the rags which he 
sees are for the manufacture of the coarse brown paper 
which is used for so many commercial purposes. He 
cannot believe that the dingy bits of linen cloth, many 
of them originally of the colour ofa sack, and others so 
dirty as to appear as incapable of being purified as 
the blood-spotted hand of Macbeth’s wife, should become 
that beautiful fabric, a sheet of white paper. But so it 
is. ‘Lhis wonderful change is gradually brought about 
by very certain and simple processes. We leave the 











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A is the trough, ten feet lone, four and a half feet 
broad, and two and a quarter feet deep. It is made of 
wood, lined with lead. Bis a longitudinal division of 
the engine; C is an iron roller, twenty-two inches in 
diameter, and twenty-six inches wide. D is an ap- 
paratus for conveying pure water into the trough, and 
for carrying off the foul water. The roller being set in 
motion, about a hundred weie hit of rags are put fiato the 
trough, and as much water is let in as will raise the 
whole to within an inch or two of the brim. ‘The roller 
is not a plain cylinder, but its surface presents a number 
of bars, or knives, projecting inore than an inch radially 
from its axis; and beneath the roller is a plate composed 
of bars, or vee of the same kind as those of the 
roller. When the roller commences its revolutions, of 
which it makes about 160 in a minute, the rags are 
carried with great rapidity through the knives ; and as 
the roller is “depressed upon the plate, or elevated, are 
the rags drawn out, or bruised, or cut, as may be 


i a 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 






[SErTEMBER 28, 


sorting-room, and are conducted to a shed, in which there 
are several large square chests filled with rags, We see 
the muddy-looking mass heaving up and somewhat 
agitated. Steam is being admitted into the chests; and 
here they are boiled with lime for a few hours. At the 
end of that period they are still very discoloured; but 
the inexperienced observer begins to have hopes that 
they may at least serve for whited-brown paper. From 
the washing shed we are conducted into an upper room 
in the mill We hear a deafening noise, and see that it 
is produced by the movements of a large horizontal 
wheel, which is connected with several oval cisterns, 
or troughs, about ten feet long, and four or five feet 
broad. ‘These troughs, and the machinery within them, 
are technically called Engines: their uses are most 
important in the manufacture. Previous to their intro- 
duction into this country, which was about sixty years 
avo, the rags were first washed by hand ;—then placed 
wet in close vessels till they became half-rotten ;—and 
after the fibre was thus nearly destroyed, they were re- 
duced to pulp, either by hammers in a mortar, or by 
a cylinder grinding against the sides of a circular wooden 
bowl. All these operations were slow and expensive, 
and very destructive of material. In these engines, which 
wash, tear,and beat the rags, every particle is preserved ; 
and the whole process, by the aid of machinery in 
making the sheet, is so rapid, that a bag of rags may 
easily leave the port of Hamburgl on the first of Sep- 
tember, and be converted into paper—nay printed upon 
and distributed through the United Kingdom in the 
form of a ** Penny Magazine’”—by the first of October. 

Into one of these engines, then, the boiled rags are 
first placed to be washed. If the white linen rags of 
England only are used, they are not boiled, but are at 
once placed in the washing engine. ‘The following 
wood-cut may assist the description :— 
























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required. Above the roller is a cover, (not shown in the 
cut,) In which are two frames of wire cloth, communicat- 
ing with the pipes at D. When, therefore, the whole 
mass is in agitation, the rags, after passing through the 
knives of the roller and the plate, are carried up the 
inclined plane of the division EF; and the foul water, 
passing through the frames, is removed by a pipe at D, 
while a clear” Streain 1s continually ponring in from the 
same point. In this way the rags are bruised down, and 
waslied, in the first engine. After this operation has 
been continued for a sufficient time, the water is let off; 
and the cleansed mass is removed to a press, for the 
purpose of driving out the greater part of the water 
which remains in it. In this state, the foreign rags,’ 
though not white, are clean, aud have somewln the 
colour of the cloth called brown holland. ‘The visitor 
has now hopes that something like white paper may be 
produced from them. 

The discoveries of modern chemistry have assured to us 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 38] 


1833.] 


SS» 


el 


Tinks 


—— 


=] 


4 
ast 
* 


f the operation is properly con- 
fabric is uninjured, ‘The ra 


and 


| ducted, the quality of the 


The process of [ uniform whiteness ; 


ces every description of linen rag to an 


pletion of these hopes. 


REFERENCES TO THE PaRTs OF THE Mac 
roller to the endless felt.—L First pair of 


the perfect com 
bleaching redu 





882. 


being removed from the press, are placed in a receiver 
or chamber made of wood, from which the external air 
is carefully excluded. Into this chamber are conveyed 
pipes, communicating with a retort, in which chlo- 
rine is formed, by the application of heat to a due 
proportion of manganese, common salt, and sulphuric 
acid. ‘This part of the process is completed in a few 
hours. The rags are now white; but they have an 
intolerable smell. The subsequent operations of wash- 
ing and bruising entirely purify them. 

From the gas chamber the rags are again conveyed to 
the washing-engine. In this they are driven round 
as before, till the chlorine is thoroughly forced out of 
them. ‘They are then let off into the beating-engine, 
This is of the same construction as the washing-engine, 
except that the knives of the roller and the plate are 
closer together, ‘The roller here is moved with more 
rapidity. In the washing-engine the motion of the 
rollers produces a harsh growling sound—in the beating- 
engine the noise is that of a loud humming, which is not 
unpleasant. Having been ground for scveral hours in 
this machine, the rags assume the beautiful appearance 
of pulp. In this state the preparation somewhat resem- 
bles milk. In this engine, the size, which is prepared 
from pieces of sheep-skins, and other animal substances, 
is sometimes introduced. In writing paper the size is 
applied after the sheet is madc. 

From the last engine the pulp, now completely ready 
to be formed into paper, is conveyed by a valve to the 
chest. This is a large circular vessel which will contain 
several engines full of pulp, technically called stuff. The 
chest which we shall presently describe in connexion with 
the paper-machine, is twelve feet in diameter by five 
in depth. An agitator constantly revolves round it, by 
which the stuffis kept from sinking. 





We are now arrived at that stage of the process in 
which the sheet of paper is to be formed out of the stuff 
thus prepared. In some cases the sheet is made by 
hand in a mould; in others by machinery. ‘The paper 
of our ‘* Magazine” is, like most other printing-paper, 
made by the machine. But as a great deal of paper is 
still made by hand, it will be right that we should briefly 
describe that operation. 

The wood-cut at the commencement of this Number 
represents the process of making paper by hand. ‘The 
drawing was made at the celebrated Turkey Mill of 
Messrs. Hollingworth, near Maidstone. 

Upon looking at the cut it will be seen that one of 
the two men employed is dipping a sort of frame ‘nto a 
vat. ‘This vat is supplied with stuff from the chest 
already described; and that stuff is kept warm by a 
copper within the vat, to which heat is communicated 
by a steam-pipe. It is also agitated by machinery 
within. ‘The workman forming the sheet, who is 
called a vatman, is provided with two moulds, These 
arc slight frames of wood, covered with fine wire. Fit- 
ting to each mould is a deckel, or moveable raised 
edging, which determines the size of the sheet. The 
vatman, putting the deckel on one of the moulds, dips 
it vertically into the stuff; and bringing it to the sur- 
face horizontally, covered with pulp, shakes it gently. 
It must be evident that this operation requires the 
greatest nicety, both in determining the general thick- 
ness of the sheet, and in producing it of an uni- 
form thickness throughout. ‘The vatman then pushes 
the mould with the sheet towards his fellow workman, 
who is called the coucher; and, taking off the deckel, 
applies it tothe second mould, and proceeds as_ before. 
The coucher, who receives the first mould, having a 
heap of porous pieces of flannel by his side, called felts, 
turns the mould over upon a felt, upon which the sheet 
remains ; and placing a felt on the sheet, he is ready to 
turn over anothcr from the second mould. Thus the 
vatman and the coucher proceed, the one moulding a 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[SEPTEMBER 285 


sheet of paper, and the other. placing. it upon felt, till 
they have made six or eight quires. ‘The heap is then 
subjected to the action of a powerful press. ‘The sheets, 
after this pressure, have acquired sufficient consistency 
to enable them to be pressed again by themselves. ‘The 
felts are accordingly removed, and one sheet being laid 
upon another, the heap is subjected to a moderate pres- 
sure. The sheets are next parted; then dried, five or 
six together; next sized, by dipping; again dried and 
pressed ; examined to throw out any damaged sheets, 
or to remove knots; and, finally, put into quires and 
reams. : 


We now resume our description of the manufacture 
of paper, as we saw it at the Albury mill. It may be 
convenient, before describing the operation of the paper- 
machine, to refer to a wood-cut of it, which was drawn 
from the one employed in making the sheet of paper 
which the reader now looks upon. (See page 381.) 

We will endeavour to conduct the reader, step by 
step, through the rapid but most complicated operation 
of converting the pulp of rags into paper by machinery. 
But no description, however accurate and clear, can 
stand in the place of a personal examination of this most 
beautiful process. In the whole range of machinery, 
there is, perhaps, no series of contrivances which so 
forcibly address themselves to the senses. ‘There is 
nothing mysterious in the operation; we at once see 
the beginning and the end of it. At one extremity of 
the long range of wheels and cylinders we are shown a 
stream of pulp, not thicker than milk and water, flowine 
over a moving plane; at the other extremity the same 
stream has not only become perfectly solid, but is wound 
upon a reel in the form of hard and smooth paper. 
This is, at first sight, as miraculous as any of the fancies 
of an Arabian tale. Aladdin’s wonderful lamp, by which 
a palace was built in a night, did not in truth produce 
more extraordinary effects than science has done with 
the paper-machine, We were compelled patiently to 
watch the process for a long time before we could divest 
our minds of a vacant feeling of wonder, and prepare to 
understand the manifold arrangements by which these 
extraordinary effects are produced. We will attempt 
rapidly to convey our first impressions to the reader; 
reserving, for the present, any dctailed explanations. 

At one extremity of the machine is the chest, full of 
stuff or pulp, marked A in the wood-cut. We mount 
the stcps by its side, and sce a long beam roiling inces- 
santly round this capacious vessel, and thus keeping the 
fibres of linen, which look like snow-flakes, perpetually 
moving, and consequently equally suspended, in the 
water. At the bottom of the chest, and above the vat, 
B, there is a cock, through which we observe a con- 
tinuous stream of pulp flowing into the vat; which is 
always, therefore, filled to a certain height. From the 
upper to the lower part of this vat,—or, following tlie 
wood-cut, from the left to the right division,-—a portion 
of the pulp flows upon a narrow wire frame, which con- 
stantly jumps up and down with a noise resembling a 
cherry-clack ;—this is called a sifter, and is marked C. 
Having passed through the sifter, the pulp flows still 
onward to a ledge, over which it falls in a rezular stream, 
like a sheet of water over a smooth dam. Here we see 
it caught upon a plane, which presents an uninterrupted 
surface of five or six feet, upon which the pulp seems 


| evenly spread, es a napkin upon a table; this space is 


indicated by E. A more accurate inspection shows us 
that this plane is constantly moving onwards with a 
gradual pace; that it has also a shaking motion from 
side to side; and that it is perforated all over with little 
holes—in fact, that it is an endless web of the finest wire. 
If we touch the pulp at the end of the plane, upon which 
it first descends, we find it fluid; if we draw the finger 
over its edge at the othcr end, we perceive that it is still 
soft—not so hard, nerhaps, as wet blotting-paper,—but 


1833.) 


~ g0 completely formed, that the touch will leave a hole, | 


which we may trace forward till the paper is perfectly 
made. ‘The pulp does not flow over the sides of the 
plane, we observe, because a strap, on each side, con- 
stantly moving, and passing upon its edges, reculates 
the width; these straps are marked F. After we pass 
the wheels upon which these straps terminate, we 
perceive that the paper is sufficiently formed not to 
require any further boundary to define its size ;—the 
pulp has ceased to be fluid. But it is yet tender 
aud wet; and we see that a wire cylinder, G, which 
presses upon its surface, leaves a succession of lines 
marked upon it in its passage. The paper, we perceive, 
is not yet completely off the plane of wire: before it 
quits it, another roller, I, which is clothed with 
felt, and upon which a stream of cold water is con- 
stantly flowing, subjects it to pressure. ‘The paper 
has at length left what may be called the region of 
Wire, and has entered that of Cloth. A tight surface of 
flanuel, or felt, is moving onwards with the same re- 
gular march as the web of wire. like the wire, the felt 
is what is called endless,—that is, united at the ex- 
treimities, as a jack-towel is. We see the sheet travelling 
up an inclined plane of this stretched flannel, which 
gradually absorbs its moisture. It is now seized between 
two rollers, 1, which powerfully squeeze it. It goes 
travelling up another inclined plane of flannel, and then 
passes through a second pair of pressing-rollers, M. It 
has now left the region of cloth, and has entered that of 
Heat. ‘The paper, up to this point, is quite formed ; but 
it is fragile and damp. It is in the state in which, if the 
machinery were to stop here, asit did upon its first in- 
vention, it would require (having been wound upon a 
reei) to be parted and dried as hand-made paper is. 
But in a few seconds more it is subjected to a process 
by which all this labour and time is saved. Froin the 
last pair of cloth-pressing rollers, the paper is received 
upon a small roller marked N. It is guided by this 
over the polished surface of a large heated cylinder, O. 
The soft pulp tissue now begins to smoke ; but the heat 
is proportioned to its increasing power of resistance. 
Irom the first cylinder, or drum, it is received upon a 
second, P, considerably larger, and much hotter. As 
it rolls over this polished surface, we see all the rough- 
ness of its appearance, when in the cloth region, gradually 
vanishing. At length, having passed over a third 
cylinder, Q, still hotter than the second, and having been 
subjected to the pressure of a blanket, which confines 
it on one side, while the cylinder smooths it on the other, 
it is caught upon the last roller, R, which hands it over 
to the reel, S,—the perfect substance which the reader 
now holds in his hand. But there is no division in the 
paper thus formed ; it is an uninterrupted roll of yard 
upon yard, which has no necessary termination but the 
power of reeling it. A supplementary machine (see 
the wood-cut in the last page) receives it off the reel ; 
and as it mounts upon the drum, T, a circular knife cuts 
it into two breadths; while, having descended to the 
point V, a series of sharp teeth, which strike against it 
within, divide it, by a stroke of invariable recularity, 
into the requisite lengths. The sheet of paper for a 
“Penny Magazine” is now made. ‘The process is as 
rapid as it is beautiful. It has taken us two hours to 
write this very imperfect description of it. From the 
commencement of the process, when the pulp flows out 
of the vat upon the web of wire, till the paper into which 
it is formed is received upon the reel, somewhat less 
time than two minutes is occupied. We ascertained the 
fact by drawing our finger across the wet mass before 
it left the web, and tracing the rent inte the final stage 
of the formation of the paper. The web of wire travels 
at a rate which produces twenty-five superficial feet of 
paper per minute. : 

In all machinery which takes the place of handiwork 
there must be certain points of resemblance, or of ¢on- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


383 


trast, between the one process and the other, which are 
instructive to examine. Up to the formation of the pulp 
or stuff, the process of paper-makine is the same, as we 
have seen, whether the pulp is to be converted into 
paper by hand or by machinery. The vatman dips his 
mould into the vat, and produces a soft sheet of paper, 
of uniform thickness, by that delicacy of touch whose 
perfection constitutes the best workinan. But as this 
regularity essentially depends upon manual dexterity, 
lt must necessarily be incomplete. It may vary with 
the health of the workman; with the temperature in 
which he is placed; with the time of day at which he 
labours. In the machine the thickness of the paper is 
regulated by the quantity of stuff which is allowed to 
flow out of the chest; and all that is required to render 
this thickness invariable, is an invariable speed in the 
motion of the machine. Ifthe web of wire travel at 2 
rate that will make twenty-five feet of paper a minute, 
and the chest discharges (we will say) five gallons of 
stuffin the same period, there can be no change in the 
thickness of the sheet, But Jet the machine move with 
greater speed,—let the web travel at the rate of making 
thirty feet in a minute, while the chest still discharges 
only five gallons of stuff, —and the paper will be thiuner 
by one-fifth, Again, let the pace of the machine be un- 
altered, but let the chest discharge ten gallons instead of 
five in the minute, and it is manifest that the thickness 
of the sheet will be doubled. So far the machine has 
an advantage over the workman. It goes on to copy 
his movements. As the water drains through the web of 
Wire in its inward passage, leaving the pulp upon the 
surface, the machine imitates the action of the vatman, 
who holds his mould for a space over the vat; and as he 
gently shakes the mould to distribute the pulp evenly over 
its surface, so has the web ashaking motion, from side to 
side, to produce the like effect. The vatman loses none 
of his material; for every particle of unused fibre returns 
through the mould into the vat, with the sized water, 
with which the stuff is often prepared: the machine is 
equally economical ;—for all that drains through the 
wire web is collected in a cistern near the point H, where 
the web returns, and is lifted up and discharged again 
into the vat by the lifter D. As the vatman also defines 
the size of his sheet by the deckel fitting to the mould, 
so the deckel straps of the machine, constantly moving 
onward, and pressing tightly upon the edges of the 
moving pulp, regulate its width. In hand-made paper 
that sort which is technically called laid,—ikat is, marked 
with lines,—receives this appearance from wires crossing 
the web. ‘The same appearance, if it be thought desir- 
able, is imparted in the machine by the wire cylinder 
G, called a dandy. The coucher, whose functions we 
have already described, removes the sheet made in a 
mould from the vatman, and places it between two felts. 
The same absorption is caused in the machine, by the 
sheet travelling over a large felted surface, and passing 
between felted rollers, at I, at L, and at M. These 
rollers, be it observed, do the work also of the pressure 
to which the hand-made paper is subjected before it is 
dried. So far the operations of making paper by hand 
and by machine have a certain general reseinblance. 
But here the parallel ceases. ‘The beautiful contrivance 
of drying and smoothing the sheets by hot cylinders, O, 
P, and Q, are a modern application to the macliine; and 
they certainly give the process a perfection which is 
unattainable in the system of drying each sheet, either 
by exposure to the atmospheric air, or to steam, upon 
poles. Mr. Fourdrinier, who perfected the machine as 
far as making the paper upon an endless web of wire, 
and pressing it in various felts, did not attempt the great 
modern improvement of drying the sheets without 
removal. ach cylinder is heated by steam, from a pipe 
communicating with its hollow part within. The heat, 
as we have mentioned, is gradually imparted to the paper. 
If the first cylinder which receives the sheet be taken at 


384 


the temperature of 80°, the second would be 100°, and 
the third 120°. 

The cutting machine, which may or may not be ap- 
plied to the paper-making machine, is an extremely 
beautiful contrivance, invented by Mr. Edward Cowper. 
Its object is chiefly to save material, It was usual, after 
a certain quantity of paper had been reeled, to cut it 
through while upon the reel. But it is evident that the 
sheets would consequently be irregular in their size, so 
that the inner part of the roll, when cut, might be an 
inch or two smaller than the outer part, according to the 
quantity reeled. 

Mr. Dickinson, one of the most ingenious and suc- 
cessful manufacturers of paper in the kingdom, has con- 
structed machines differing essentially from those of 
Fourdrinier’s invention, as regards the formation of the 
pulp into paper upon the web of wire. ‘This machine is 
thus briefly described in Dibdin’s “ Bibliographical 
Decameron .”—“ Mr. Dickinson employs a hollow cylin- 
der, the surface of which is pervious, and is covered with 
woven wire; and this revolves in a vat of pulp, though 
not completely immersed; but by the axis, which is a 
hollow tube, there is a communication from some in- 
ternal apparatus to a pair of air-pumps, and by their 
action the paper is formed, and made to adhere to the 
cylinder, and afterwards detached from it to an endless 
cloth, which conducts it to the pressing-rollers. ‘The pulp 
for this machine is much more dilated than for any 
other mode of making paper, and therefore adinits of the 
fibres which compose it being longer, which has a 
beneficial effect with regard to the texture of the paper, 
and renders it better adapted to receive a clear and 
distinct Impression.” 


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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


ilies 
aunty 
BUPITIEEANE 


[September 28, 1833. 


When the sheets of paper, completely formed and cut 
by the process we have described, are taken from the 
machine-room, they are subjected to a very careful 
examination. 'This work is performed by young women, 
who are as neat in their persons as the upper work- 
women in a well-regulated cotton-mill.: It is their 
business to remove every knot or speck in each sheet, 
and to lay aside those which have any rent or hole. The 
sheets, thus finished, are next subjected, in their full size, 
to the action of a powerful press. ‘They are then cut 
round the edges, by what is called a plough; for itis 
essential to the beauty and regularity of printing, that 
the edges of the paper should be perfectly smooth. The 
open sheets are then counted into quires of 24 sheets; 
then folded in quires; then put into reams of 20 quires ; 
then pressed in reams; and, lastly, tied up in wrappers. 
The exciseman now steps in, and charges each ream with 
a duty of 3d. per lb. before it can be removed for sale. 

We have already mentioned that the web of wire in 
the paper-machine travels at a rate to produce twenty- 
five superficial feet of paper per minute. In a working- 
day of ten hours, 15,000 feet will consequently be pro- 
duced. This quantity is equiva‘ent to about twenty-four 
reams, or 11,520 sheets, of paper twice the size of a 
“Penny Magazine.” Our yearly consumption is about 
14,000 reams; so that, taking the number of working 
days throughout the year at 312, it will require the con- 
stant working of two machines all the year round to 
produce the paper for our yearly demand. <A paper- 
mill with only one machine, and no vats, is held to carry 
on a respectable business, employing about forty hands. 


Two mills of this description would be wholly engaged 


in producing the paper for the ‘“‘ Penny Magazine.” 


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©. The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 
Printed by Winttam Crowes, Duke Street, Larabeth, 





THE PENN 3 MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledce. 


97.1] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Ocronzr 5, 1833, 


TRAJAN'’S COLUMN. 


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Vote i ; j i [Trajan : Column, at Rome.] . 
@ : 3 


§86 


Amoné the monuments of antiquity still remaining in 
Rome, one of the most famous and most interesting Is 
the beautiful column of which the aboye is a representa- 
tion. According to the inscription which is still to be 
read on its base, it was erected by the senate ald people 
of Rome in honour of the victories obtained by the 
emperor Trajan in his two expéditions against the 
Dacians, in the first of which he compelled that fierce 
people to sue for peace, and in the second entirely con- 
quered their country, and added it to the dominions of 
Rome, he former was undertaken in the year 101, 
and lasted for three years ;—on the latter he set out in 
105, and returned the year following, the war having 
been thus speedily terminated by the Dacian king, De- 
cebalus, putting himself to death to avoid the risk of 
what he deemed a worse fate. The column was erected 
in the year 115, after Trajan had gone on his last 
expedition, that against the Parthians and Armenians. 
From this he never returned, having been cut off by a 
dysenteric fever at Seleucia in 117. He never, therefore, 
beheld the magnificent structure which had been raised 
co record his glory. 

The pillar of Trajan originally stood in the midst of a 
large square or forum, as it was called, the buildings 
surroundiug which comprehended a palace, a gym- 
nasium, a library, several triumphal arches, porticos, 
and other erections in the most superb style of archiitec- 
ture. Gilded statues and military ensigus glittered on 
the fronts of the buildings; and, besides the column, an 
equestrian statue of the emperor appears to have oc- 
cupied a conspicuous position in the open space within. 
For richness of display there was probably nothing in 
Rome comparable to this forum. Cassiodorus, a writer 
who flourished in the beginning of the sixth century, 
while the buildings, as may be gathered from his 
account, were still standing, says of it, “‘ The forum of 
Trajan is a perfect miracle, if we inspect it even with the 
utinost ininuteness.” 

All the buildings of the forum of Trajan are now 
thrown down, with the exception of the pillar. ‘Their 
ruins lave raised the preseut streets fifteen feet above 
the ancient pavement. A few years ago, however, the 
accumulated soil and rubbish were removed immediately 
around the column, which is now, therefore, to be seen 
standing in the excavation in its full dimensions. It is 
built of white marble, which was probably also the ma- 
terial of the surronnding buildings, as it certainly was of 
their pavements, which have been in part uncovered. 
tt consists of a base, a shaft of the Doric order, and a 
capital ; and it was anciently surmounted by a statue of 
the emperor, in place of which one of the apostle Peter 
has been substituted. The ashes of ‘Urajan are said to 
have been contained in a golden ball, which rested on 
the head of the figure, and which is believed to be the 
same that is still to be seen ornamenting the great stair- 
case of the Capitol. Including the statue, the height of 
the whole is stated by ancient writers to have been one 
hundred and forty feet. ‘Fhe height of the pillar alone 
is one hundred and twenty-eight modern Roman or one 
hundred and twenty-four English feet. 

‘The whole consists of only thirty-three blocks of marble, 
of which eight compose the base, twenty-three the shaft, 
one the capital, and another the pedestal supporting the 
statue. It is ascended by a spiral staircase in the inte- 
rior, which is entirely cut out of the same stones. ‘There 
are forty-three loop-holes or apertures for the admission 
of the light. 

But the most curious part. of the column is the sculp- 
ture in bas-relief by which the whole of the shaft is 
covered. The series of delineations runs round the 


pillar in an ascending spiral riband, which makes in all | 
On | 
| a folio volume, in 1616, by a Spanish friar of the name 


twenty-two revolutions before reaching the top. 
this is represented, in chiselling of exquisite deiucacy, 


the succession of 'Trajan’s Dacian victories, together with | 


; ‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ria 


-brated. 


[OcroneEr 5, 


the two triumphal processions by which they were cele- 
The figures, which are designed with great 
spirit, are not fewer than between two and three thousand 
in number, that of Trajan occurring about fifty times. 
In the lower part of the shaft they are each about two 
feet in heieht; but as they ascend and are removéd 
farther from the eye their dimensions are enlarged, till at 


the top they become nearly double the size‘of those below. 


These sculptures are extremely interesting in another 
point of view, as well as for their merit as works of art. 
‘The Roman dress and manners,” says Mr. Burton, 
in his ‘ Description of the Antiquities of Rome,’ “ may 
receive considerable light from these bas-reliefs. We 
find the soldiers constantly carrying their swords on 
the right side. On a march they are generally bare- 
headed ;—some have no helmet at all; others wear them 
suspended to their right shoulder. Some of them have 
lion’s heads by way of a cap, with the mane hanging 
down behind. Each of them carries a stick over the 
left shoulder, which seems to have been for the purpose 
of conveying their provisions. We may observe a wallet, 
a vessel for wine, a machine for dressing meat, &c. We 
know from other accounts that they sometimes carried 
sixty pounds, and food for seventeen days: they never 
carried less than enough for three days. ‘Their shields 
are oblong, with different devices upon them. The 
standards are of varions kinds; such as a hand within 
a wreath of laurel, which was considered a sign of con- 
cord. Pictures also were used, which were portraits of 
wods or heroes. ‘The soldiers wear upon their legs a 
kind of tight pantaloon, reaching a little below the knee, 
and not buttoned. The Dacians have loose pantaloons 
reaching to the ankle and shoes ; they also carry curved 
swords. The Sarmatian cavalry, allies of Decebalus, 
wear plate armour, covering the men and horses. These 
were called Cataphracti or Clibanarii; and the words of 
Ammianus ,exactly answer the representation on the 
column—‘ Their armour was a covering of thin circular 
plates, which were adapted to the movements of the 
body, and drawn over all their limbs; so that in what- 
ever direction they wished to move, their clothing allowed 
them free play by the close fitting of its joints. * * ® 
Some Roman soldiers have also plate-armour; but they 
are archers. The horses have saddles, or rather cloths, 
which are fastened by cords round the breast and under 
the tail. The Dacian horses are without this covering ; 
ard the Germans, or some other allies, have neither 
saddles nor bridles to their horses. We might observe 
several other particulars, such as a bridge of boats over 
a river, and that the boats everywhere are without a 
rudder, but are guided by an oar fastened with a thong 
on one side of the stern. ‘The wall of the camp has 
battlements, aud the heads of the Dacians are stuck 
upon it. ‘The Dacian women are represented burning 
the Roman prisoners.” — 

Our wood-cut is principally copied from a plate in the 
splendid work on the ‘ Architectural Antiquities of 
Rome, by Messrs. E. Cresy and G. L. Taylor. It 
represents the column, with the surrounding ground and 
buildings, as the whole appeared soon after the late 
excavations. In the foreground is seen a portion of the 
pavement of the basilica, or palace, which formed one of 
the most sumptuous buildings of the Forum; and the 
pillars which are ranged around are some of those that 
had belonged to the same edifice. ‘“ The church to the 
left,’ says the description appended to this print, “ is 
dedicated to the Madonna di Loretto; it was crected by 
Bramante, and its cupola is one of the earliest specimens 
of that modern appendage to a church, and is supposed 
tohave been the prototype of the admirable dome of 
St. Peter's. 

There is a work, we may add, published in Rome, in 


“~ 


of Alfonsd Ciaconus, or Ciacono, in which is given a 


9 3m vhs 


1833.) 


series ‘of delineations of the sculptures on Trajan’s 
eolunim, in above three hundred plates, on a larere scale. 
It is entitled ‘ Historia Utriusque Belli Dacici a 
Trajano Cesare-resti ;’ and the author has endeavoured 
to make out a connected account of the incidents of the 
emperor’s two Dacian expeditions from the: historical 
record of them on the coluinn. It might be interesting 


to compare these classic picture annals with the attempts. 


of the Mexicans in the same style. 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section 13. 


Oraanic Remains.—( Continued.) 


Tue examples we have as yet civen of the more remark- 
able fossil animals have been such only as are found in 
the secondary strata,—that is, in the chalk and the beds 
inferior to it. We shall now mention some of the most 
striking circumstances connected with those met with in 
the formations superior to the chalk, or in what are 
usually termed the tertiary strata. In these a remarkable 
change 1 the nature of the animal remains takes place. 
There commences, immediately after the chalk, a nearer 
approach to the present state of the animal creation, for 
we then first begin to find fossils identical with species 
now living, whereas nothing of the sort is to be seen 
either in the chalk or in the strata beneath it. 

The tertiary strata consist of a very extensive series of 


deposits, showing, by their positions and the nature of | 


the organic remains they contain, that some of them 
must have been formed at much earlier periods than 
others of the same class, and that there is an order of 
succession in these, as in the secondary strata, which is 
never reversed. ‘There is, moreover, abundant evidence 
to prove that, in many instances, great local changes had 
taken place in the forms of the external crust of the 
globe, between the deposit of one series of the tertiary 
strata and that of the formation which lies above it. 
There is, however, among these beds a much oreater 
resemblance to each other, in so far as mineral composi- 
tion is concerned, than in the case of the secondary 
strata ;—they consist of sand, sandstones, clays, and 
limestones, so very like one another, and, in fact, so 
identical in mineral structure, that it would be impossible 
to distinguish between two strata, that were deposited at 
periods-many thousand years distant, perhaps, trom each 
other, by the mere mineral characters, but which we are 
enabled to do, with the utmost precision, by the different 
species of fossil shells which they severally contain, 
generally in great abundance, aud having their forms, 
for. the most part, well preserved. 

Observations have already been made in different 
countries with so great a degree of accuracy, and upon 
so extensive a scale, as to enable eeologists to ascertain 
that there have been four great epochs, or periods, suc- 
ceeding each other in chronological order, during which 
the tertiary strata were deposited. ‘The grand distinc- 
tion between secondary and tertiary formations is founded 
upon the existence in the latter of animal remains iden- 
tical with living species; and the extension of that same 
principle forms the ground of separation between the 
successive periods of the tertiary series. Mr. Lyell, in 
his recent work, (‘ Principles of Geology,’ vol. iii.,) has 
been the first to give a full systematic view of all we 
know concerning that erand division of the strata which 
envelope the earth of what we may call the tertiary 
system; and he has proposed expressive and convenient 
designations for the four great periods above alluded to, 
calling them the Ikocene, Miocenr, OtprerR Puiocens, 
and Newer Piiocenr Periops. ‘The termination cene 
is taken from a Greek word signifying recent, and the 
rest of the term indicates the proportion of recent or 
living species contained in the deposit. ‘Thus the first, 
6r earliest period, which comprehends the - deposits 


THE PENNY 


immediately after the chalk, he calls Hoceng, from eos,” 


MAGAZINE. 387 
Greek for the early dawn, becanse recent species just 
then begin to appear; the second period he calls Mro- 
CENE, from meton, signilyiue a minor quantity; the 
third period, the older Phiocznr, froin pleion, a major 
quantity ; the fourth. period, Newer Puioceng, from 
the increased proportion of recent species. When future 
discoveries require us to establish more minute subdivi- 
sious,—as, for instance, our finding deposits older than the 
Miocene, but more modern than the Eocene,—they may 
be called Newer Eocene, or Older Miocene, according as 
they partake more or less of the nature of the great 
divisions below and above them. 

It has been found that in certain beds above the chalk 
the number of fossil shells, which can be identified with 
living species, does not exceed one-thirtieth part of all 
the shells they contain, and these beds are referred to 
the Eocene period ; another suite of deposits, lying above 
the Eocene, have been found to contain about one-fifth 
part of recent species, aud these are considered as be- 
longing to the Miocene period ; above them come amore 
modern set, having from a third to more than a half of 
recent species, and these constitute the beds of the Older 
Pliocene period ; the deposits above these last contain so 
great a proportion as nine-tenths of recent species, and 
they are referred to the Newer Pliocene period. Ex- 
pressed in numbers, the relative proportions stand thus: 

Eocene period containing’ 33 

Miocene period - 

Older Pliocene period 3 

Newer Pliocene period , 90 
It is not, however, to be understood that such periods are 
defined by strict limits in nature; the terns are no more 
than expressions of the present state of our knowledge— 
arbitrary signs, for the convenience of classification, 
indicating the predominance of certain characters in the 
deposit. It is but a few years since the great tertiary 
division was established; and there is every reason to 
expect, from past experience, that the examination of 
unexplored tracks of those deposits will bring to light 
uew groups, which, by their position and fossils, may be 
proved to be intermediate in point of age between two 
of the great divisions or periods above meutioned. Dis- 
coveries such as these Mr. Lyell anticipates, in which 
case we might have lower, medial, and superior Hocene 
deposits, and likewise lower, medial, and superior Miocene 
deposits. The observations already made have pretty 
well established that all living species are not of the 
same degree of antiquity; that some have preceded 
others upon the surface of the earth by an interva} of 
time to which we have no means of assigning any limit. 
The question whether the newly arriving species made 
their appearance singly or in great groups all at once, is 
far from settled in the minds of geologists ; and it can 
never be satisfactorily decided except by very extended 
observations, by minute and accurate researches, upon a 
very compreliensive scale. 

Another grand distinction between the tertiary and 
secondary classes is the frequent occurrence in the former 
of strata which must have been deposited in vast lakes 
of fresh water, while we have no instances of’ the kind 
in the latter. We have, it is true, secondary deposits 
containing fossil remains of animals which must have 
lived in fresh water, but in those cases, there is usually a 
mixture of marine shells, showing that these deposits 
must have taken place in estuaries, where creat rivers 
had entered the sea. In the tertiary periods we meet 
with vast quantities of fossil shells belonging to species 
which inhabit lakes and rivers, many species of lake and 
river fishes and reptiles, of land animals, and of plants. 
These sometimes occur by themselves in accumulatioiis 
of successive layers ; at other times they are interstratified 
with beds containing marine: shells only, and very often 
the productions of fresh water and sea water are mingled 
together in the same bed—phenomena which very clearly 

= Sere 1 3D 2 


per cent. of fossil 
shells identical with 
existing species, 


88E THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Ocroper 5, 


indicate extraordinary and very extensive local changes | peds. Of all organized bodies, shells and corals have 
in the earth’s surface. Some fossil shells identical with | had the longest range of existence, for there are living 
living species are common to all the four periods, others | genera of both which may be traced back from the ter- 
‘hate are common to all the periods are now extinct. | tiary beds to those strata in which the first dawn of 
We have many instances of fossil shells belonging to | animal life is discoverable. 

living species mingled with the bones of extinct quadru- | [The subject of Organic Remains will be concluded in Section 14.] 





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[Principal Entrance and Interior of Rochester Cathedral} 


Tuerz is no other of our cathedrals, perhaps, that | fore the close of the eleventh century, Its architecture, 
presents so antique and time-worn an aspect as that of | therefore, is of the earliest Norman style, or that 
Rochester. It is in reality one of the oldest ecclesiastical | which preceded what is commonly called the Gothic. 

edifices in England, having been principally erected be- As we stated in our account of the city of Rochester, 


1883.] 


in a former Number, the cathedral stands near the 
middle of the town, and ata short distance south from 
the High Street. Owing to the chapels and other 
extraneous structures which have been attached to it, 
the building hasan irregularly shaped exterior; but what 
forms the church consists of a nave, with aisles, and a 
choir, extending, as usual, from west to east, crossed by 
two transepts, the greater nearest the west end, and the 
other between the bishop’s throne and the high altar in 
the choir. The entire length of the cathedral, from east 
to west, is 306 feet, of which 156 feet constitute the 
portion from the entrance of the choir to the east end. 
The breadth of the nave, including the aisles, is 61 feet ; 
and the greater transept is 122 feet, and the other 90 
feet in length from north to south. Over the intersec- 
tion of the greater transept and the nave is a tower, 
surmounted by a spire of 156 feet in height. The 
extent of the west front is 81 feet; and rising along this 
line are ‘four smaller towers, one from each of the 
extremities, and the other two from the sides of the 
great door. 

This principal entrance to the church has formerly 
presented an extraordinary display of rich and_ florid 
architecture, although its decorations are now sadly de- 
faced. On each side of the door, the whole depth of the 
wall, stands a row of small pillars, supporting a corre- 
sponding series of arches. ‘Two of the pillars are 
fashioned into statues, which are understood to have 
been intended to represent Henry I. and his queen, 
Matilda, in whose. time the structure was raised. The 
capitals of the others are formed of figures of various 
flowers and animals. Every stone of. the front arch is 
also marked: by a separate device. Under the arch 
there appears to have been carved a representation 
of Christ, sitting ina niche, with an angel on each side, 
and the twelve apostles at his feet ; but the design-is now 
greatly obliterated. ‘There is a large window over thie 
door, which, however, is evidently the work of a later age. 

> The windows throuchout the cathedral, indeed, as well 
as the roof, appear all to have been raised higher Jong 
after the first erection of the building. ‘The more ancient 
part of the interior is in a plain style of architecture ; and 
the circular arch, and massy pillar with its unornamented 
capital, every where indicate the remote age to which the 
fabric belongs. Smal! columns of. Petworth marble 
ornament the choir, the fittings up of which were re- 
newed about the middle of the last ‘century. ) 

The first Christian church at Rochester was begun by 
Ethelbert, King of Kent, in the year 600, and’ finished 
in 604 ; when the bishopric was established, and Justus, 
one of the companions of Augustine, was appointed by 
that prelate to preside over the diocese. With the excep- 
tion of a short period during which he retired to France, 
on the relapse of Edbald, the son and successor of 
Ethelbert, to idolatry, Justus continued to occnpy the 
see till he was removed, in 624, to Canterbury. Ro- 
chester, like almost every other Saxon town, was repeat- 
edly laid nearly in ruins in those early times, sometimes 
by hostile attacks, sometimes by accidental fires; but if 
the cathedral was ever entirely destroyed on any of these 
occasions, there is at least no account of its having been 
rebuilt. The first new structure of which we read, is that 
which still remains, and which was begun by Bishop 
Gundulph, about the year 1080. Gundulph was bishop 
of Rochester for above thirty years, and appears to have 
applied his great talents with extraordinary zeal and 
energy to the promotion of the interests of his see. At 
the same tine with the cathedral, King Ethelbert had 
founded here a religious house or mouastery, which he 
filled with secular canons. This establishment, Gun- 
dulph, among his other innovations, transformed into a 
house of reeular Benedictine monks, the society to which 
he had himself belonged before his elevation to episcopal 


rank, Besides his new cathedral, he built a lofty tower, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


389 


the ruins of which still remain, as an addition to the 
castle erected in the city by the Conqueror, and a smaller 
structure of the same kind close to the north wall of the 
church, which is also still standing, and which is supposed 
to have been intended as a receptacle for the charters 
and other records of the see. The funds for his 
different architectural undertakings he seems to have 
derived in great part from the liberality of the King, 
Henry I., with whom and his Queen Matilda he was a 
great favourite. An old writer, William Lambarde, in 
his ‘ Perambulation of the County of Kent,’ says of 
Gundulph, that “ he never rested from building and 
begging, tricking and garnishing, until he had erected 
his idol building, to the wealth, beauty, and estimation 
of a Popish priory.’ The eastern part of the church, 
however, forming the choir, was not built till the middle 
of the thirteenth century ; and other parts of the fabric 
are of still more recent date. The whole suffered con- 
siderable injury at the Reformation ; but much greater 
at the commencement of the civil wars in the seventeenth 
century, when a party of the Parliamentary soldiers, under 
Colonel Sandys, are said to have converted one part ot 
the church into a carpenter's shop, and another into a 
tippling house. 


) A VISIT TO HOFWYL. 

WE have received the following interesting communica- 
tion from a correspondent upon whose accounts we can 
place a full reliance. . The establishments for education, 
which have been founded and matured in Switzerland, 
by the public spirit and laborious perseverance of M. 
Fellenberg, have now existed about thirty-two years. 
Their high merits have been long familiar to the English 
public. At the present time, we understand that certain 
political dissensions, which have produced much ill-will 
and. unhappiness in the canton of Berne, have had the 
common effect of all violent contests of opinion,—they 
have made men indifferent or opposed to those institu- 
tions for the amelioration of the human character, whose 
reat object is to elevate our species above the intolerance 
and narrowness of party-feeling. We trust that the open 
or concealed hostility which, it is said, now threatens the 
excellent establishments of M. Fellenberg will speedily 
be put to shame by the good sense of the people of 
Switzerland ; who will perceive in such institutions the 
surest preservation against the outbreaks of a mistaken 
zeal for freedom, on the one hand, and the tyranny of 
exclusive pretensions, on the other. 


In the month of August, 1832, I travelled into 
Switzerland for the purpose of making myself acquainted 
with the schools and institutions at Hofwyl. Situated 
about three leawues from the picturesque capital of Berne, 
amidst a beautiful scenery, composed of a cultivated vale, 
the Jura ridge of mountains, a pine forest, a small lake, 
and the glaciers of the Bernese Alps, stand the extensive 
building's of the establishment, surrounded by about two 
hundred and fifty acres of farm land. Upon my first 
arrival, before I could obtain an opportunity of presenting 
my letters to the benevolent founder, I wandered about 
in various directions,—all was business and activity. 
Here was a troop of lads cutting the ripened corn, while 
another troop was engaged in conducting it to the barns. 
Here was the forge in activity, and there some little 
eardeners performing various operations in small plots 
of ground that were portioned out: here were a group 
of little girls gleaning, there others carrying water, most 
of them singing while thus employed. But my atten- 
tion was peculiarly arrested by about one hundred men, 
who in a large open building, erected in a recess of the 
warden, appeared to be engaged hike boys in a school- 
room ; over the entrance was inscribed this motto, “ ‘The 
Hope of their Country.” 

I was at last fortunate enough to be admitted into the 


390 


study of M. de Fellenbere,—a man somewhat advanced 
in years, with a countenance beaming with intelligence 
and kindness. De Fellenbere was, by birth, one of the 
ancient aristocracy of the country, and in possession of 
the hereditary property of his family. He determined 
upon devoting lis fortune, and the labour of a life, in 
the endeavour to effeet the regeneration of his native 
land, by the means of education. ‘“ I will infuse good 
habits and priuciples into the children,” said he, ‘for in 
twenty short years these children will be the men, giving 
the tone and the manners to the nation.” For thirty- two 
years has he pursued his steady course, increasing in 
influence, and extending his establishment as his scheme 
grew upon him, until it has become what he described 
to me. “ This,’ said he, pointing to a Jarge building, 
‘‘is the institute for the boys of the higher classes. 
Here are their dimnng-rooms ;—arranged on each side 
of yonder galleries are their dormitories. Here you see 
their gardens, their museum, their work-shops, their 
school- -rooms; here their gymnasium where they exer- 
cise fhenaunrae in wet weather, here their stream of 
running water where they batlie every day: study is 
their ernployment, bedily labour their recreation,——but 
bodily exertion I insist upon. There is-no health, no 
vigour of mind, no virtue without it. .Those persons 
grown to manhood, who are mixing with the boys, are 
placed by ine to observe every action, and cateh every 
expression. My grand object is to comprehend tho- 
roughly the character of my pupils, in order that [ may 
work more efficaciously upon them. ‘These persons are 
by no means considered as spies by the boys; they are 
their companions. At Hofwyl all that is not in itself 
wrong is permitted. I never like to forbid a thing when 
I am. unable to assien a reason for doing so: it creates 
a confusion In young minds with reeard to principle, a 
thing most dangerous to their future happiness. We 
have no boundary-mark, yet my boys stay at home; we 
interfere pot with their pleasures, yet they cling to their 
duty. 

“Within this enclosure is my eldest daughter’s poor 
school for girls. She has about a hundred under her 
direction, who are fed and clothed by the establishment. 
To these she devotes her entire time. ‘They learn all 
that in after-life will be of service to them :—to clean the 
house,—to cultivate the garden,—to sew,—to make all 
those little necessaries which are of so much importance 
in the cottage ; to read, to sing,—to be cheerful, and to 
be happy. ‘Unless our women “be brought up in modesty, 
and with industrious and religious habits, it is in vain 
that we educate the men. It is they who keep the cha- 
racter of men in its proper elevation. 

‘‘ Here is my school for the middling classes;—here 
all instruetion has reference to practical purposes. Man 
was born to have dominion over the earth, and to subdue 
it, but itis by the intellect alone that he can do so. His 
unassisted strength, what is it? To eonquer Nature he 
must understand her. Look in here, and you will see 
the laboratory of the chemist, and the lever and the 
pulley of the mechanic. 

“ In these two buildings are my poor school for boys, 
who are boarded and clothed ‘by the establishment. And 
well they earn their maintenance, for the little fellows 
work ten hours a-day in the summer; and the expense 
that I incur in their behalf is nearly repaid by their 
exertions. They study for two hours each day, and this 
I consider sufficient. The ease here is the reverse of the 
Institute, for bodily exertion is the labour and study the 
reereation. ‘The habits I bring them up with are those 
which I desire should Ponti with them through life ; 
they consequently have reference to their | probable 
position in society. The habit of continued study would 
ill-become a person destined to gain his livelihood by his 
diands. , Although there are now oue hundred boys 
See here, ine Were but sinall beginnings, ‘IT had 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


- 


‘but one -pupil at first. 


[OcTobER 5, ° 


It was long before I could find a 
master inwhom I could confide. Do you observe those 
little ‘patches of garden-ground ? Each poor Jad has 
oue to himself; and the preduce belongs exclusively to 
him. ‘They ee dally dispose of it to the establishment, 
which-either pays them the money at the time or lodges 
it for them in a little bank I have founded. Many of 
them have very considerable sums there. It is here that 
they obtain a habit of passing the greater portion of 
their time in continued and patient labour ;— they 
beeome acquainted with the value of labour by the pro- 
duce of their little gardens. ‘The instruction that I give 
them, although somewhat more elevated than what is 
generally obtained by persons of their rank in life, is 
directed to the rendering perfect the senses and reflection, 
—to make them better practical men; drawing, the 
sciences of arithmetic and geometry, a useful selection 
from the other sciences, all taught in the most un- 
ostentatious manner: the history of their native country, 
and an ‘acquaintance with the different natural objects 
around them, together with music, form the extent of 
their literary instruction. 

‘ Religion is inculcated in every way. Public prayer, 
both at church and at school, is regularly performed in 
common with the schools of other countries. Besides 
this, these poor lads are taught to see the Creator in his 
works.. When their admiration is roused by a natural 
object, they are accustomed to direet their thoughts to its 
Maker. 

“ But here,’ said my venerable companion, “is the 
engine upon which I rely for effecting the moral re- 
generation of my country (and. my attention was 
directed to: the men whom I had before seen in the 
morning); these are the masters of village schools, come 
here to imbibe my principles and to perfect themselves: 
in their duty. These men have six thousand pupils. 
under them; and if, by the blessiug of God, I can con-: 
tinue the direction of them, success is-certain.”’ 

To insure success M. de Fellenberg spares no pains, 
—no expense. There are no less than thirty-two pro- 
fessors solely devoted to his establishment, who inhabit 
a house to themselves upon the premises. 

In all, there are about three hundred and fifty in- 
dividuals in this little colony. Despite of his enemies, 
the spirit of De Fellenberge is spreading throughout 
Switzerland ; and after having seen the parent institu- 
tion, I visited several of his establishments in some of 
the remotest cantons. 

A week closed my short sojourn at Hofwyl. I quitted 
it with a heavy heart; and the recollection of the moral 
| beauty of what I there witnessed will remain riveted on 
my memory for ever. 





THE WILD TURKEY. 
(Abridged from C, Bonaparte’s § American Birds.’) 


Tur native country of the wild turkey extends from the 
north-western territory of the United States to the 
isthmus of Panama; south of which it is not to be 
found: In Canada, and the now densely-peopled parts 
of the United States, this bird was formerly very. abun- 
dant; but the progress and ageressions of man have 
compelled them to seek refuge in the remote interior. 
[t is not probable that the range of the wild turkey 
extends to or beyond the Rocky M ountains. ‘The Mandan 
Indians, who a few years ago visited the city of Wash- 
ington, considered it one of the rreatest curiosities they 
had. seen, and prepared a skin ofa one to carry home for 
exhibition. 

It is‘not -necessary to be particular in deser ibing the 
appearance of a bird so well known in its taine state, 
The difference consists chiefly in the superior size and 
beauty of plumage-in. the. wild turkey ; for, under the 


eee thoy 


‘eare’of man, this bird has greatly degenerated; not only 
in Europe and Asia, but in its native country. . Wher full 
grown, the male wild turkey is nearly four feet in length 
and nearly five in extent, (from wing to wing,) and 
presents in its plumage a rich assortment of colours, 

brown predominating, which might be vainly sought ‘in 
the domesticated bird. Altogether his appearance its 
such as, with other considerations, disposed: Dr. Franklin 
to regret that he, rather than the bald eagle, had not 
been selected as the national emblem of the United 
States. But since the choleric temper ‘and the vanity 
of the tame turkey have become proverbial in varions 

languages, the authors of ‘ American Ornithology’ are 
well pleased that its effigy was not placed on the North 

American escutcheon. . 

Lhe wild turkeys do not confine themselves to any 
particular food; they eat maize, all ‘sorts of berries, 
fruits, grasses, beetles; and even tadpoles, young frog's, 
and lizards are occasionally found in their crops; but 
where the pecun nut is plenty, they prefer that fruit to 
any other nourishment. ‘Their more general predilec- 
tion, however, is for the acorn, on which they rapidly 
fatten. When an unusually profuse crop of acorns ts 
produced in a particular section of country, great num- 
bers of turkeys are enticed from their ordinary haunts 
in the surrounding districts. About-the beginning of 
October, while the mast still remains on tlie trees, they 
assemble in flocks and direct their course to the rich 
bottom lands. At this season they are observed in 
great numbers on the Ohio and Mississippi. ‘The time of 
this irruption is known to the Indians by the name: of 
the Turkey month. ¢ 

The males, nsually,termed gobdlers, associate in parties 
numbering from ten to one hundred, and seek their food 
apart from the females; whilst the latter either move 
about singly with their young, then nearly two-thirds 
grown, or—in company with other females and their 
families—form troops, sometimes consisting of seventy 
or eivhty individuals. ‘They are all intent on avoiding 
the old males, who, whenever opportunity offers, attack 
and destroy the young by repeated blows on the skull. 
All parties, however, travel in the same direction, and on 
foot, unless they are compelled to seek their individual 
safety by flying from the dog of the hunter, or their pro- 
gress is impeded by a large river. When about to cross 
a river, they select the highest eminences, that their 
fli7ht may be the more certain ; and here they some- 
times remain for a day or more, as if for the purpose of 
consultation, or to be duly prepared for so hazardous a 
voyage. During this time the males gobble obstre- 
perously, and strut with extraordinary importance, as if 
they would animate their companions and inspire them 
with hardihood. 'The females and young also assume 
much of the pompous air of the males, the former 
spreading their tails and moving silently around, At 
length the assembled multitude mount to the tops of the 
highest trees, whence, at a sienal note from a leader, the 
whole together wing their way towards the opposite 
shore. Immediately after these birds have succeeded in 
crossing a river, they for some time ramble about without 
any apparent unanimity of purpose, and a great many 
are destroyed by the hunters, though they are then least 
valnable. - >: : 

When the turkeys have arrived in their land of abun- 
dance, they disperse in small flocks, composed of in- 
dividuals of all ages and sexes intermingled, who devour 
all the mast as they advance: this occurs about the 
middle of November. It has been observed that, after 
these long journeys, the turkeys become so familiar as 
to venture on the plantations, and even approach so 
near the farm-houses'as to enter the stables and corn- 
cribs in search of food. ‘In ‘this way they pass the 
autumn and part of the winter. During this season 
great numbers are killed by the inhabitants, who pre- 


THE PENNY; MAGAZINE. 


utters’ a call, every male within hearing responds, roll 


~ 891 


serve them tn.a frozen state’in. order to transport them 
toa distant-market. © - : | 
Karly in March they begin to pair. The sexes roost 
apart, but at no great distatice, so that when the female 
| | ; Ing 
note for note, in the most rapid succession; not as-‘when 
spreading the tail and strutting near the hen, but in a voice 
resembling that of the-tame turkey, when he hears an 
unusual or frequently repeated noise. Where the turkeys 
are numerous, the woods, from one end to the other, some- 
times for hundreds of miles, resound with this remarkable 
noise,-uttered responsively from their roosting places. 
This is continued for about an hour; and, on the rising: 


of the sun, they silently descend from their perches, and 


the*males begin to strut, as if to win the.admiration of 


their mates. “Their process of approach to the feinales 


is remarkably pompous and ceremonious 3 and, in its 
course, the males often encounter one another and despe- 
rate battles ensue, when the conflict is only terminated 
by the flight or death of the vanquished. , With the hen 
whose favour is thus obtained the male is mated for 
the season, though he does not hesitate to bestow 
his attentions on several females whenever an opportu- 
nity offers. One or more females, thus associated, 
follow their favonrite and rest in his immediate neigh- 
bourhood, if not on the same tree, until they begin to 
lay, when they shun their mates, in order to save their 
eggs, which the male uniformly breaks if in his power. At 
this period the sexes separate, and the males, being: much 
emaciated *, retire and conceal themselves by prostrate 
trees, in secluded parts of a forest, or in the almost 
impenetrable privacy of a cane-brake. By thus retiring, 
using very little exercise, and feeding on peculiar wrasses, 
they recover their flesh and ‘strength, and when this 
object is attained again congregate and re-commence 
their rambles. 

About the middle of April, when the weather is dry, 
the female selects a proper place in which to deposit her 
egos, secured from the encroachment of water, and as 
far as possible concealed from the watchful eye of the 
crow. ‘The nest is placed on the ground, either on a 
dry ridge, in the fallen top of a dead leafy tree, under a_ 
thicket of sumach or briars, or by the side of a log: it 
is of avery simple structure, beine composed of a few 
dry leaves. In this receptacle the eges are deposited, 
sometimes to the number of twenty, but more usually 
from nine to fifteen; they are like those of the domestic 
bird. : 

The female uses great caution in the concealment of 
her nest: she seldom approaclies it twice by the same 
route ; and on leaving tier charge, she ts very careful to 
cover the whole with dried leaves in such a manner as 
to make it very difficult even for one who has watched 
her motions to indicate the exact spot. Nor is she easily 
driven from her post by the approach ofapparent danger ; 
but if an enemy appears, she crouches as low as possible 
and suffers it to pass. ‘They seldom abandon their nests 
on account: of being discovered by man; but should a 
snake or other animal suck one of the eggs, the parent 
leaves them altogether. If the eggs be removed she 
again seeks the male and. re-commeuces laying, though 
otherwise she lays but one set of eggs during the season. 
Several turkey-hens sometimes associate, perhaps for 
mutual safety, deposit their eggs in the same nest, and 
rear their broods together. Mr. Audubon once found 
three females sitting on forty-two eggs. In such cases 
the nest is commonly guarded by one of the parties, so 
that no crow, raven, or even polecat dares approach it. 
The mother will not forsake her eggs, when near haich- 


* The extraordinary leanness of this bird, at particular seasons 
of the year, of which this 1s one, has become proverbial in many 
Indian languages. An Omawhaw who wishes te make known his 


poverty says, “Wah pawne zezecah ha go ba ;”—I am as poor as 


a turkey in summer. 


392 


ing, while life remains, she will suffer an enclosure to 
be made around and imprison her rather than abandon 
her charge. 

As the hatching generally occurs in the afternoon and 
proceeds but slowly, the first night is commonly spent 
in the nest; but afterwards the mother leads them to 
elevated dry places, as if aware that humidity, during 
the first few days of their life, would be dangerous to 
them, they having then no other protection than a deli- 
cate, soft, hairy down. In rainy seasons wild turkeys 
are scarce, because when completely wetted the young 
rarely survive. At the expiration of about two weeks 
the young follow their mother to some low, large branch 
of a tree where they nestle under her broadly curved 
wines, The time then approaches when they seek the 
open ground or prairie land during the day in search of 
berries and grasshoppers, thus securing a plentiful supply 
of food and enjoying the genial influence of the sun. 
The young turkeys now grow rapidly, and in the month 
of August, when several broods flock together and are 


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© 6° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields.” 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND ‘13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Octoner 5, 18383, 


led by their mothers into the forest, they are stout, and 
able to secure themselves from the unexpected attacks 
of their enemies, by rising quickly from the ground and 
reaching with ease the upper limbs of the tallest tree. 

It is rather surprising that, though the introduction of 
this bird into Europe is comparatively modern, its origin 
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In the ‘ Penny Magazine, No. 29, we gave an account 
of the curious basaltic rocks known by the name of 
the Cave of Fingal, in the island of Staffa, one of the 
Hebrides. Humboldt, in his fine work, ‘ Vues des 
Cordilléres, has given a brief description, with a spirited 
representation, of very similar rocks in Mexico. It can- 
not but be interesting to trace the identity of form be- 
tween the basalts of Reela, represented in the preceding 
wood-cut, and those of Fingal’s Cave and the Giant's 
Causeway. The smallest accidents observed in the 
columned rocks of Europe are found again in this 
group of Mexican basalts. So striking an analogy of 
structure leads one to suppose that the same causes 
have acted under all climates and at very different 
epochs. 

The little cascade of Regla is found to the north-east 
of Mexico, at the distance of twenty-five leaeues, between 
the celebrated mines of Real del Monte and the mineral 
waters of Totonileo. A small river, which was used to 
work the mills for breaking and amalgamating the metals 
at Regla, winds its way among the sroups of basaltic 
columns. ‘The sheet of water which precipitates itself is 
rather considerable, but the fall is not more than from 
twenty-one to twenty-four feet. ‘he surrounding rocks, 
which in their assemblage bring to mind the cave of 
Fingal at Staffa, the contrasts of the vegetation, and 
the solitude and savage aspect of the place, render this 
little cascade extremely picturesque. ‘The sides of the 
ravine elevate themselves in basaltic columus, which are 
more than nmety feet in height, and upon which appear 
clumps of the cactus and of the yucca filamentosa. 

The greater part of the columns of Reela are per- 
pendicular ; nevertheless, some are observed with an 
inclination of 45° to the east ; and, at a greater distance, 
there are some horizontal. Each group, at the time of 
its formation, appears to have followed particular attrac- 
tions. The prisms repose upon a layer of clay under 
which basalt is also found: in general this is superposed 
at Regla upon the porphyry of Real del Monte, whilst a 
rock of compact chalk serves as a base to the basalt of 
‘Lotonilco. All this basaltic region is elevated about 
six thousand feet above the level of the ocean. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrtion 14. 
Oreanic Rematns.—( Concluded.) 


in a former section we gave figures and descriptious of 
the cornu ammonis, and some other extinct animals of 
the older strata, because they are unlike anything we are 
now accustomed to see among living species. But 
although the distinctive characters of the fossil shells of 
the tertiary deposits are very marked in the eyes of a 
zoologist, they present to the general reader no forms 
which would strike him as uncommon; we shall there- 
fore not stop to describe any of these, and, for the same 
reason, muy pass over the fishes, crustacea, insects, and 
plants. But there are circumstances connected with the 
occurrence of the bones of land quadrupeds in the ter- 
tiary deposits so curious and interesting that we must 
not omit noticing some instances at Jeast ; more especially 
vs they. afford striking proofs of revolutions of the earth’s 
surface long before the apparent existence of man, but, 
at the same time, the most recent in the series’ of 
geological chanves. We shall begin with the earliest 
of the tertiary deposits. 

Eocene Period.—One of the most extensive forma- 
tions belonging to this period occurs around Paris. That 
capital is situated in a kind of trough of vast dimensions, 
formed by chalk hills rising around it on every side; and 
in that hollow there is a ereat accumulation ‘of tertiary 
strata. From the form of the country, this deposit 
has been called by geologists the Paris Basin. By 


a singular coincidence the capital of England also | 
stands in a hollow surrounded by,chalk hills, and filled }. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{OcTroBgER 12 


with similar tertiary deposits ; and this has been called 
the London Basin. In both, but particularly in the 
Paris Basin, besides innumerable marine and fresh-water 
shells, fossil bones of extinct quadrupeds and birds have 
been found in great quantities. It was the almost daily 
disinterment of such bones in the stone-quarries around 
Paris, together with the large collections of them in the 
museums of that capital, which first led the celebrated 
Cuvier’s attention to the subject, in which he afterwards 
so eminently distinguished himself by his splendid 
volumes on ‘ Fossil Bones.’ ‘This work has opened to 
veologists an entirely new field of observation, and esta- 
blished some of the most important truths at which we 
have arrived in the physical history of the earth. 

‘The Paris Basin is about one hundred and eighty 
miles in a direction from N.E. to 8.W., and ninety froin 
i. to W. It is composed of a series of beds, the general 
arrangement of which is as follows :— 


A. Above the chalk, but only partially, a deposit of 
plastic or potter’s clay and sand, containing fresh- 
water shells, with accumulations of vegetable 
matter in that altered state called lignite, and 
which, in a previous section, we have described 

_ as being intermediate between peat and coal. 

B. Coarse limestone, often very sandy, and passing 
into sandstone, and both abounding in marine 
and fresh-water shells, containing portions of 
palm-trees, as well as otliers of the dicotyledonous 
class. Thick beds of gypsum or Paris-plaster 
stone, containing land and fluviatile shells, frag- 
ments of.palm-trees, and a great number of 
skeletons and detached bones of quadrupeds, 
birds, fresh-water fish, crocodiles, tortoises and 
other land and river reptiles. 

C. Thick beds of sand and sandstone, without lime- 
stone, containing shells, not in great abundance, 
and exclusively marine. , 

D. Calcareous marls interstratified with beds of flint 
and flinty nodules. From the larger masses. of 
these flinty or siliceous portions they make the 
celebrated Paris mill-stones. These beds contain 
numerous fresh-water shells and a few plants. 


The skeletons are found in the gypsum beds of the 
series B; they are usually isolated, and entire even in 
their most ininute parts. About fifty species of qua- 
drupeds have been discovered, four-fifths of which belong 
to a division of that order of animals called Pachyder- 
mata, (the thick-skinned, from pachus, Greek for thick, 
and derma, a skin or hide,) which contains at present 
only four living species, numely, three tapirs, an animal 
resembling a pig, and the daman of the Cape of Good 
Hope. This tribe of quadrupeds inhabit low plains 
and marshes, and the banks of rivers and lakes. ‘There 
have been found also, in the same beds, bones of ex- 
tinct species of the fox, dormouse, squirrel, and opossuin, 
and about ten species of birds. 

There is not so great a variety in the mineral structure 
of the tertiary strata of the London Basin as in that: of 
Paris. Clay is the most prevalent, and it sometimes 
exceeds seven hundred feet in thickness: above it, there 
is adeep and extensive deposit of sand. No remains of 
terrestrial animals have yet been found in either of those 
beds, but skeletons and scattered bones of crocodiles and 
turtles have been occasionally met with. A series of ter- 
tiary strata belonging to the Eocene period, and very 
nearly resembling those in the basins of Paris and London, 
occurs in the Isle of Wight. Very perfect remains of 
tortoises and the teeth of crocodiles have been found in 
some of the beds; and in a limestone-quarry at Binstead 
some teeth belonging to animals similar to those en- 
tombed in- the gypsum strata of Paris. 

Miocene Period.—A series of deposits, possessing cha- 
racters which point out an epoch of formation distinct 


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from, and probably long subsequent to, that of the strata’ 
lying immediately above the chalk, have been found in 
Touraine, the valley of the’Loire, and several parts of the: 
South of France, near Turin, in Piedmont, around. 
These contain | 
bones of extinct species of the elephant, rhinoceros, hip- | 


Vienna, in Hungary, and in Poland. 


popotamns, horse, stag, pig, and of two quadrupeds 


belonging to extinct genera, ealled by Cuvier Palaco- | 


therium and Anthracotherium. In some situations the 
bones of the latter aniinal have been found in deposits of 
tlhe coaly matter called lignite, and in those cases they 
are frequently converted into a snbstance like coal. 
These remains of terrestrial quadrupeds are occasionally 
met with having corals and shells growing upon them, 
so that they must have been transported to the sea and 
have lain there for some time before they were enveloped 
in the mud and sand which was afterwards to be con- 
solidated into stone and raised above the surface of the 
water. ‘They are also intermingled with marine shells, 
and with bones of animals of the whale tribe, namely, 
the lamantin, morse, sea-calf and dolphin. In the 
voleanic districts of Auvergne, in the very centre of 
France, vast beds of gravel and loose soil, containing 
Organic remains which identify them with the Miocene 
period, lie between layers of ashes and other volcanic 
products of great thickness. The bones of an extinct 
animal of great size, resembling the elephant, called the 
mastodon, have been found in that gravel; together with 
those of extinct species of elephant, rhinoceros, hippopo- 
tamus, ox, deer, boar, otter, beaver, hare, and water-rat, 
and those associated with bones of bears, tigers, hysenas 
and wolves. In the adjoining country of Velay, bones 
belonging to the same animals have been met with ina 
layer of volcanic ashes, which lies between two beds of 
solid lava. In the upper part of the valley of the Arno, 
in italy, not farfrom Florence, there is a great accumula- 
tion of tertiary strata of this period, which must have 
been deposited in an extensive fresh-water lake. They 
contain the bones of most of the land animals above 
mentioned-; and the Italian geologist, Brocchi, relates 
that the quantity of fossil bones is so great that the 
peasants, before they found out that they were valuable 
as objects of curiosity, used to maké palisades, for 
fencing in their gardens, of the thigh bones and lees of 
elephants, dug from the soil around their dwellings. 

Older Pliocene Period.—The most extensive deposit 
belonging to this period occurs in the northern part of 
Italy, in Tuscany, and as far south as Rome, The 
central mountain range of the Apennines is flanked by 
hills of marl, yellow sand, and gravel, gencrally low, 
but sometimes rising to the height of two thousand feet. 
These tertiary beds abound in marine shells, and in the 
remains of land quadrupeds, and of marine maimmalia, 
or the whale tribe, so that it is evident the bones of the 
land animals were transported by running water to the 
bottom of the sea; and that they lay there a lone time 
has been proved by the discovery, in the marl, of the 
thieh-bone cf an elephant, with oyster-shells adhering: to 
it. A long list might be given of the land animals of 
extinct species, the remains of which have been dug out 
of these sub-apennine hills. 

Newer Pliocene Period.—This most modern of the 
groups of the tertiary series has been established by Mr. 
Lyell, in consequence of his observations in Sicily, where 
he discovered extensive deposits of limestone and mar! 
in the Val di Noto, which rise in some places to the 
height of three thousand feet above the level] of the sea, 
containing shells, which prove the strata to have been 
deposited lone snbsequently to the sub-apennine hills. 

nese shells are in a very perfect state of preservation, 
and are, for the most part, species identical with those 
now living in the adjacent sea. He mentions other 
deposits of the same age in Italy and the Morea. To 
this period belong many accumulations of loose gravel, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


395 


which cover vast tracts of country in most ‘parts of the 
slobe, and which are called by some geologists diluvial 
gravel and diluvinm, because they suppose thet White 
been produced by some sudden flood passine over the 
earth, diluvium being Latin for a deluce, . 
This gravel contains. in many places, 
tities | of the bones of extinct species of quadrupeds, 
especially the elephant and rhinoceros; for remains of 
those animals have been met with in such situations in 
almost every country of the world. Indeed thie quantity 
of elephants’ bones is something quite extraordinary, 
even as far north as the frozen regions of Siberia. A 
very full and interesting account of the fossil remains of 
this animal will be found in the seventh volume of the 
‘Library of Entertaining Knowledge, c. xiv. and xv. 
Eight different species of the extinct quadtuped re- 
sembling the elephant, which we have mentioned above, 
called the mastodon, have been discovered; and the 
gigantic bones of a still more extraordinary quadruped, 
the megatherium, now no longer known to exist in a 
living state, have been disinterred from the banks of a 
river In South America. The greatest accumulations of 
the bones of the mastodon are on the western side of the 
Appalachian mountains of North America, near the 
banks of the Ohio river, ata place called Big Bone Lick, 
and in other parts of the State of Kentucky ; and they 
have likewise been found on the eastern side of the 
mountains, near the Hudson River. The animal re- 
sembled an elephant, but one of gigantic size, for tusks 
above twelve feet in length have been discovered.- Along 
with the bones of the mastodon were found those of the 
elephant, rhinoceros, horse, ox, and stag. ‘The bony 
structure of that clumsy monster, the megatherium, prove 
it to have belonged to the sloth tribe. An almost com- 
plete skeleton of it was dug up about forty-five years ago, 
near Buenos Ayres, and was sent by the viceroy of the 
province to the Royal Cabinet of Madrid, where it now 
is; and, very lately, several bones were discovered in 
the same district, and sent to England by the British 
consul, ‘The animal must have been of the size of a 
rhinoceros ; and it was covered with a coat of mail 
something like that of the armadillo. It must have 
lived upon vegetable food, and probably dug up roots 
with its claws, which are of an enormous size. Remains 
of another species of the same quadruped, about the 
size of an ox, and which has been called the megalonyx, 
have been found in different parts of North America. 
One of the most remarkable circumstances connected 
with the fossil remains of quadrupeds is their accumula- 
tion in caverns in various parts of the world. Caves, 
often of very considerable dimensions, are common in 
all countries where limestone hills exist; and many of 
those which have hitherto been examined appear to have 
been, in ancient times, the retreats of wild beasts, and 
other animals. The floor is usually covered with a 
stony incrustation gradually formed by petrifying waters 
running in the bottom of the cave, and filtering through 
its sides. On breaking through the crust, or stalagmite, 
as it is termed by geologists, we come to loose earth, of 
variable depth, containing scaitered bones and fragments 
of bone, belonging to extinct species of quadrupeds, and, 
what 1s very remarkable, not of one or two, but of many 
kinds, and such as could never have lived together in 
one den, or even in very near neighbourhood. ‘Thus in 
Kirkdale cave, near Malton in the East Riding of York- 
shire, which, a few years ago was explored and described 
by Dr. Buckland, there were found the bones of bears, 
tigers, hyaenas, wolves, and foxes, nixed up I one com- 
mon mass with those of the elephant, rhinoceros, hippo- 
potamns, horse, ox, deer, hare, rabbit, rat, mouse, and 
several birds, such as pigeons, larks, ducks, ravens, and 
snipes. All these were not only mingled together, but 
many of them had evidently been gnawed. From the 
great proportion of hysna’s bones, and the intermixture 
3 1 2 


immense quan- 


396 


of its peculiar hard earthy dung, it is thought that those 
animals must have inhabited the cave for a very long 
period, and that the bones of the other animals are the 


remains of living prey, or dead carcasses dragged by those }- 


ravenous beasts into their den. In whatever way we 
seek to explain the manner in which the bones were 
collected in the cave, there still remains the remarkable 
fact that, at a remote period, probably long before it was 
inhabited by man, but after the land had assumed tts 
present form, Great Britain swarmed with wild beasts 
similar to those which now roam in the forests and 
swamps of Africa. : | 

The brief sketch whicl we have now completed of 
some of the most remarkable facts connected with the 
history of fossil organic remains, can hardly have failed 
to excite feelings of wonder and of no ordinary interest 
in the minds of those to whom the subject of geology is 
wholly new, and who were not ‘prepared to learn that 
such extraordinary facts should have been brought to 
light, out of our stone quarries and coal mines. ..'They 
will have perceived that there is the most indisputable 
evidence of our continents and every portion of dry land 
having been raised up from the bottom of the sea; and 
of their having taken their present forms. after many 
revolutions, during which land and water have repeatedly 
changed places on the surface of the earth. . There can- 
not be a doubt that there was a time when the place now 
occupied by Great Britain was a deep sea, surrounded 
by other land; on which grew, in a climate.as warm 
as the West Indies, tree ferns and palms, which, in 
the natural course of decay, were carried into the. ad- 
joining sea, and accumulated there for ages to form our 
strata of coal. The bed of the sea must have been 
then broken up and heaved above the surface of the 
waters, when a new state of things prevailed in the 
vegetable and animal creation, the sea swarming with 
enormous saurian reptiles. -The land must afterwards 
have been subjected to repeated submersions and eleva- 
tions before Great Britain rose from out the deep in its 
present form, to become, after a necessarily long prepa- 
ratory interval, a dwelling-place for tigers, hyenas, bears, 
hippopotami, and elephants. How many ages those 
wild beasts, of. species too that no longer exist, were 
the sole inhabitants of our island, it is impossible for us 
to form any conjecture. We know for certain that not 
a fragment of a fossil human bone has ever been seen. 

We have now completed that general view of the 
structure of the crust of the globe which, as we stated 
in ow first section, we considered to be a necessary 
introduction to our intended accounts of the natural 
history of those mineral substances which enter into the 
business of common life. Our sections have necessarily 
appeared at distant intervals, and it will therefore be 
convenient to such of our readers as wish to eo over the 
subject again with less interruption, to state that the pre- 
ceding Sections have appeared in Nos. 50, 51, 56, 59, 
61, 66, 68, 71, 76, 79, 92,94, and 97. Our sketch has 
been brief, and may appear to some of our readers very 
incomplete ; but it must be remembered that to have gone 
into the subject at length would have been inconsistent 
with the plan of our publication. Our object has been 
to render our descriptions of the manner in which mi- 
neral productions are obtained from the interior of the 
earth more intelligible to the general reader; and in 
doing so, to awaken, at the same time, his attention to 
those important facts in the history of the earth we in- 
habit, which the science of geology has brought to light. 


Ferocity of Hawks.——We stopped one very sultry day 
about noon to rest our horses, and enjoy the cooling shade 
afforded by a clump of syeamore trees, with a refreshing 
draught from an adjoining spring. Several large hawks 
were flying about the spot, two of which we brought down. 


From their great size -mmense claws, and large hooked | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[OcroBER 12, 


beaks, they could have easily carried off a common-sized 
duck or goose. Close to our resting-place was a small hill, 
round the top of which I observed the hawks assemble; and 
judging that a nest was there, without communicating my 
intention to any of the party, I determined to find it out. 
I therefore cautiously ascended the eminence, on the 
summit of which I perceived a nest larger than a common- 
sized market basket, formed of branches of trees, one laid 
regularly over the other, and the least of which was an inch 
in circumference. Around it were scattered bones, skeletons, 
and half-mangled bodies of pigeons, sparrows, humming- 
birds, &c. Next toa rattlesnake and a shark, my greatest 
aversion is a hawk; and on this occasion it was not dimi- 
nished by observing the remains of the feathered tribe, 
which had, from time to time, fallen a prey to their voracious 
appetite. JI therefore determined to destroy the nest, and 
disperse its inhabitants ; but I had scarcely commenced the 
work of demolition with my dagger, when old and young 
flew out and attacked’me in every direction, but particularly 
about my face and eyes; the latter of which, as a punish- 
ment for my temerity, they seemed determined to separate 
from their sockets. ‘In the mean time I roared out lustily 
for assistance, and laid about me with the dagger. ‘Three 
men promptly ran up the hill, and called out to me to shint 
my eyes, and throw myself on the ground, otherwise I should 
be shortly blinded, promising in the mean time to assist me. 
I obeyed their directions; and just as I began to kiss the 
earth, a bullet from one of their rifles brought down a large 
hawk, apparently the father of the gang. He fell close to 
my neck, and in his expiring agonies made a desperate bitt 
at my left ear, whfch I escaped, and in return gave him the 
coup de grace, by thrusting about four inches of my dagger 
down his throat. The death of their chieftain was followed 
by that of two others, which completely dispersed them ; 
and we retired after breaking up their den.—Ross Co2’'s 
Adventures on the Columbia River. 


Wolves.—These destructive animals annually destroy 
numbers of horses, particularly during the winter season, 
when the latter get entangled in the snow ; in which situa- 
tion they become an easy prey to their light-footed pursuers, 
ten or fifteen of which will often fasten on one animal, and 
with their long fangs in a few minutes separate the head 
from the body. If, however, the horses are not prevented 
from using their legs, they sometimes punish the enemy 
severely : as an instance of this, 1 saw one morning the 
bodies of two of our horses which had been killed the night 
before, and around were lying eight dead and maimed 
wolves; some with their brains scattered about, and others 
with their limbs and ribs broken by the hoofs of the furious 
animals in their vain attempts to eseape from their sangui- 
nary assailants:—Ross Cox's Adventures on the Columbia 
River. : 

These wolves, the author states, seldom venture to attack 
man, and he relates more than one instance of their being 
driven away by a single traveller with a stick. The wolves 
of Europe are much more ferocious, and the following 
description from ‘ Thomson's Seasons” is borne out, in its 
principal facts, by the testimony of unquestionable wit 
nesses :— 


By wintry famine rous’d from all the tract 
Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 
And wavy Apennine, and Pyrenees, 
Branch out stupendous into distant lands, 
Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave! 
Burning for blood! bony, and gaunt, and gnm! 
Assembling wolves in raging troops descend, 
And, pouring o’er the country, bear along, 
Keen as the north wind sweeps the glossy snow. 
Allis their prize. They fasten on the steed, 
Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart ; 
Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 
Or shake the murdering savages away. 
Rapacious, at the mother’s throat they fly, 
And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
The god-like face of Man avails him nought. 
KE en beauty, force divine! at whose bright glance 
The generous lion stands in soften'd gaze, 
Here bleeds a hapless, undistinguish’d prey.” 

Winter, v. 389——407, 


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[ Wild Boar- 


TueE wild boar, which, according to Cuvier, is the original 
from which have sprung all the common varieties of the 
domestic hog, seems to have abounded at one time in 
nearly every country of Europe and Asia, and also in 
some parts of Afmca. In America it. was unknown 
until introduced by Europeans; for the Peccary, al- 
though sometimes called the Mexican hog, appears to 
be indisputably a distinct animal. . 

In the ‘ Description of London,’ by Fitzstephen, 
written in the reign of Henry IL, in the latter part of 
the twelfth century, it is stated that the forest by which 
London was then surrounded was frequented by boars 
as well as various other wild animals. In Scotland a 
tract of country now forming one of the extremities of 
the county of Fife was anciently called Muckross, which 
in Celtic signifies the Boar-promontory. ‘The tradition 
is, that it was famous as a haunt of boars. A district 
forming a portion of it is in old writings designated by the 
name of the Boar Hills, which has now been corrupted 
into Byre Hills. It lies in the vicinity of St. Andrew’s, 
in the cathedral church of which city it is said that there 
were to be seen before the Reformation, attached by 
chains to the high altar, two boar’s tusks of the extraor- 
dinary length of sixteen inches each, the memorials of 
an enormous brute which had been slaughtered by the 
inhabitants after having long infested the neighbour- 
hood. See ‘ Martine’s Reliqnie Divi Andree,’ and 
Sir Robert Sibbald’s ‘ History of Fife and Kinross.’ 

In every country where the wild boar was found, the 
hunting of the animal was a favourite sport. In ancient 
times, it was practised equally by the civilized Romans, 
and by our own barbarous forefathers in Germany, au 
in this island. In this country the wild boar was reck- 
oned among the ordinary “ beasts of venery”’ down to a 
comparatively recent period. In Strutt’s ‘ Sports and 
Pastimes of the People of England’ are given two en- 
gravings illustrative of this subject; one from a manu- 
script of the ninth century, representing a Saxon chief- 


tain, attended by his huntsmmen and a conple of hounds, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
BOAR-HUNTING. 


397 





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unting. | 
pursuing the wild swine in a forest; and the other 
showing the manner in which the animal was attacked 
in the fourteenth century. There is a famous old work 
called the ‘ Book of St. Alban’s,’ from having been first 
printed in 1486 at the Abbey there, being a series of 
metrical treatises on hunting, hawking, angling, and 
heraldry, written in the fourteenth centnry, by Dame 
Juliana Berners, prioress of the nunnery of Sopwell. 
The following is her enumeration of the different sorts 
of animals that were then hunted -— 
“ Wheresoever ye fare by frith or by fell, 

My dear child take heed how Tristam * do you tell’ 

How many manner beastis of venery there were ; 

Listen to your dame, and she shall you lere :— 

Four manner beastis of venery there are ; 

The first of them is the hart, the second is the hare, 

The boar is one of tho, the wolf and not one mo. 

And where that ye come in plain or in place, 

I shall you tell which been beasts of enchase ; 

One of them is the buck, another is the doe, 

The fox, and the marteron, and the wild roe ; 

And ye shall, my dear child, other beasts all, 

Whereso ye them find, Rascal ye shall them call, 

In fmth or in fell, or in forest, I you tell.” 

In a well-known old French treatise ‘ On Hunting 
aud Falconry,’ written in the sixteenth century ‘by 
Jacqnes du Fouilloux, one of the chapters (the 46th) is 
devoted to the subject of the properties and mode of 
hunting the boar. ‘he animal, this writer says, ought 
not to be accounted among beasts to be chased by com- 
mon hunting dogs, but is fit game rather for mastiffs and 
their like. Dogs, he arwues, accustomed to huut the boar 
soon lose their delicacy of smell, and their capacity of 
tracking other game, from being in this sport accus- 
tomed to see the object of their pursuit so near them, and, 
as he expresses it, to have a stroug sensation of their 
beast, (“ avoir grand sentiment de leur beste.”) Be- 
sides, the ferocity and power of the animal are such, 
* Tristam was the title, or the name of the author, of an old 


work, now lost, which seems in former times to have been the 
standard authority on the subject of hunting. 


398 


that in our author's opinion it is exposing dogs, valuable 
on account of their scent rather than their strength, to 
far too great a risk to employ them in this sort of sport. 
The boar, he says, will kill a dog with a single blow from 
his tusks; and when he turns upon a pack, generally se- 
lects the strongest, and will lay several of them dead in 
as many instants. He speaks of one he saw, which, 
while pursued by fifty dogs, suddenly turned upon them, 
and not only slew six or seven of them, but wounded so 
many more, that ouly ten of the whole number came 
home uninjured. 

Boar-hunting, it may be conceived from these facts, 
was a sport by no means unattended with danger to the 
hunter Himself, as well as to his dogs. As practised 
during the middle ages, the animal, when brought to a 
stand, was attacked, soinetimes on horseback and some- 
times on foot; and either by swords which were struck 
into his flesh, or by strong spears which were protruded 
against him till he either rushed upon the point, or 
exposed himself to a thrust from the person by whom the 
weapon was held. ‘The parts intowhich it was attempted 
to plunge the spear, with the view of inflicting the most 
deadly wounds, were the forehead, between the eyes, and 
the breast, immediately under the shoulder-blade. Our 
engraving presents a spirited sketch of this mode of 
attack. It sometimes happened, however, that the boar 
would, by a sudden movement, contrive to seize the haft 
of the protruded spear between his powerful jaws, in 
which case his assailant was exposed to the most 
imminent danger of destruction. One crunch was 
sufficient to. grind the wood to fragments; and the next 
instant, unless some one was by to renew the attack, the 
enraged beast had his unarmed enemy upon the ground 
under his hoofs, and was ripping him up with his 
tusks. When horses were employed, they were frequeutly 
wounded in this way. 

Boar-hunting is still a favourite amusement in India; 
but there the sport appears to be always followed on 
horseback, and the animal is attacked by long spears or 
Javelins, which are not usually thrust into his flesh, the 
hunter retaining a hold of the weapon, but. are laneed at 
him from a distance of twenty or thirty yards, as he 
flies before his mounted pursuers. ‘The Indian wild 
hog does not seem to be quite so ferocious an aniinal as 


either the African or the European species, Ample and. 


interesting details and anecdotes on hog-hunting in India 
may be found in the works upon Indian field sports by 
Daniel, Wilhiamson, and Johnson. Amone: other anec- 
dotes, Mr. Johnson relates the following :—‘* I was one 
of a party of eight gentlemen on a sporting excursion 
at Hye, near the city of Patna, on the banks of the 
Soane river. Returning one morning from shooting, 
we met with a very large hoar in a rhur*, which we did 
not fire at or molest, as several of the gentlemen were 
very fond of hunting them, and we had no spears with 
us. ‘Che next morning we all sallied forth in search of 
him, and, just as we arrived at the spot where we saw 
him the day before, we discovered him, at some distance, 
trotting off towards a grass jungle, on the banks of the 
river: we pressed on our horses as fast as possible, and 
were nearly up with him, when he disappeared all at 
once; our horses were then nearly at their full speed, 
and four of them could not be pulled up in time to 
prevent their going into a deep branch of the river, the 
banks of which were at least fourteen or fifteen feet 
high ;—luckily for us there was no water in it, or any- 
thing but fine sand, and no person was hurt. Oue of 
the horses, which was very vicious, got loose, attacked 
the others, and obliged all the eventlemen to quit them, 
and Walk to their tents, where one of the horses had 
arrived before them, and the rest were soon caueht. 


= (6 i ‘ m2 é ° 
* “ Rhur is a species of lupine, or pulse, which grows to the 


height of from four to six or seven feet; the seeds are eaten by the 
natives of India, and are also given to the cattle,’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{Ocroser 12, 


A few days after this we went again. early in the morn- 
ing in pursuit of the same hog, and found him farther 
off from the grass jungle, in a rhur-field, from which, 
with much difficulty, we drove him into a plain, where 
he stood at bay, challenging the whole party, boldly 
charging every horse that came within fifty yards of him, 
erunting loudly as he advanced, I was then a novice 
in the sport, but I have never since seen any hog charge 
so fiercely. - The horse J rode would not @o near him, 
and when I was at a considerable distance off, he charged 
another horse with such ferocity that mine reared and 
plunged in such a violent maiiner as to throw me off: 
tivo or three others were dismounted nearly at the same 
time, and althongh there were many horses present that 
had been lone accustomed to the sport, not one of them 
would stand his charge; he fairly drove the whole 
party off the field, and gently trotted on to the erass 
jungle, (foaming and grinding his tusks,) through which 
it was unpossible to follow or drive him. 

“ The largest boar I have ever seen killed was 
extremely old and thin; he measured, in height to the 
top of the shoulder, forty-three inches, and his tusks 
were ten inches long. He was fierce, but showed little 
sport, owing to his taking shelter in a thick rhur-field, 
from which we could not drive him. Two very large 
greyhounds were slipped to him; one of them he in- 
stantly killed, and the other he severely wounded. A 
random spear, thrown by a gentleman who did not see 
him distinctly at the time, struck him in the head, and 
he fell dead without receiving any other wound.” 

In England there has been no boar-hunting for some 
ages. In France, however, where there are large tracts 
of forest which supply fuel to the towns, boars are not 
uncoinmen, although their ferocity is much diminished. 
At Chantilly, within forty miles of Paris, the late Prince 
of Condé (who died in 1830) kept a regular pack of 
hounds for hunting the boar. ‘They were large and 
strong dogs, much resembling the Enelish fox-hound, 
though more muscular and bony. The huntsman, in 
the summer of 1530, mentioned to some English eentle- 
men who visited this hunting-palace, that he had seen 
at one time, a few days previous, as many as fourteen 
wild pigs in the forest of Chantilly. Boar-lunting 
is still practised in some parts of Germany, but in a 
fashion which at once deprives the sport of its only re- 
deeming quality—its adventurous character, and makes 
it more cruel and sanguinary than ever. ‘Lhe animals 
who are to be destroyed are first enclosed in a sort of 
pen, from which they can only escape by one opening, 
and when they attempt to rush out, are slaughtered 
there by the hunters, who sit on horseback, armed with 
spears and swords, with which they have only to strike 
them till they expire. 

We may remark that, in some countries, even the 
domesticated hog retains a great deal of the fierceness 
which characterizes the wild breed. Mr. Juloyd, in his 
‘Yield Sports of the North of Europe,’ relates the fol- 
lowing -edventure, which befel him near Carlstad in 
Sweden :— 

‘Towards evenmg, and when seven or eight miles 
from home, we came to a small hamlet, situated on the 
recesses of the forest; here an old sow aid her progeny 
made a deterinined dash at a brace of very valuable 
pomters I at that time had alone with me, and who 
naturally took shelter behind us. My man-had a hght 
spear in his hand, similar to those used by our lancers ; 
this I took possession of; and directing lum to throw 
the dogs over a fence, in the angle of which we were 
cooped up, I placed myself between the dogs and their 
pursuers. ‘The sow, nevertheless, pressed forward; 
and it was only by giving her a severe blow across the 
snout, with the butt-end of the spear, that 1 stopped her 
further career, Nothing daunted, however, by this re- 
ception, she directed her next attack against myself, 


1833.] 


when, in self-defence, I was obliged to give her a home- 
thrust with the point of the spear. These attacks she 
repeated three several times, and as often got the spear 
up to the hilt in either her head or neck. She then 
slowly retreated, bleeding at all pores. So savage and 
ferocious a beast I never saw in my life. In the fray I 
broke my spear, which was as well, for it was by no 
Means strong enough to answer the purpose for which 
it was intended. This was not a solitary in- 
Stance of the ferocity of pigs. It was the same through- 
out Sweden ; for, whenever they caught sight of my dogs, 
they generally charged; and, if they came up with them, 
would tumble them over and over again with their snouts.” 


MARABOUTS OF AFRICA. 


‘Tue language of the Ghioloffs is diffused nearly over the 
whole of Senegambia; particularly the districts of Walo, 
Kaijor, Ghiolofl, Salém, Baél, St. Lewis on the Senegal, 
and Goree. From not being a written language, it has no 
pretensions to literature. The people of Senegal are, how- 
ever, to a certain extent acquainted with the use of letters, 
for many among them are able to read and write Arabic, 
though their knowledge of that tongue is but imperfect. It 
is this class who are known to Europeans by the name of 
Marabouts. They are in high esteem amongst their fellow- 
countrymen ; and as it forms part of their profession to sell 
amulets and practise the healing art, they possess consider- 
able influence over them. Some of the Ghioloffs are in 
high repute as minstrels, and earn a comfortable livelihood 
by entertaining parties with their songs. They are gene- 
rally found in the retinue of the African chieftains, are the 
poets and virtuosi of that part of the globe, celebrate the 
exploits of departed heroes, and raise those into demi-gods 
who open their purse-strings to them. In this latter respect, 
they find so ready an ally in the excessive vanity of the 
Negro, that rather than not feast upon the exaltation of his 
own name, when its merits are discussed by a tickling me- 
lody and sonorous voice, he will strip himself of his last 
remaining rag and throw it into the lap of the enchanter. 
hese manufacturers of unknown celebrities, though the 
companions of the great, and the presiding spirits over 
popular amusements, are, however, despised on all sides and 
cast out from seciety. No family will condescend to inter- 
marry with them, nor are their bodies allowed to profane 
the common burial-ground. They accompany their strains 


with the notes of a species of guitar, formed out of one-half. 


of a small oval basket, with a skin stretched across it ; at 
one end, a wooden neck is fastened on, having horsehair 
strings run along it. They display some ingenuity in the 
invention of fables, riddles, and proverbs. We add the 
following as a specimen of the latter. ‘By whom is the 
stranger first perceived, and yet denied a welcome? The 
{op of the house.’.. ‘ What constitutes the silver of the wil- 
derness? Gum, which resembles silver in briliancy, and is 
the staple of Senegal.’ ‘ What is it that respires, and yet 
is devoid of life? ‘The breath. ‘ Man advances but slowly, 
yet his spirit travels swiftly.’ ‘ A single wolf will spoil a 
Whole flock.’ ‘Jt is better to know thyself, than to be taught 
this knowledge by others.’ ‘ Shut up thy vexation in thine 
own breast ;. this is better than to indulge a vengeful spirit.””’ 
— Quarterly Journal of Education, No. XII. 


CITY OF NORWICH. 


Tug annexed wood-cut presents a view of a part of the 
city of Norwich as seen from the south-west. In Cam- 
den, and most of our other old authorities, it is errone- 
ously stated that Norwich stands on the river Yare. It 
stands, in fact, on the Wensum, which does not join the 
Yare till it has got a considerable way past Norwich. 
The Wensum flows through the town, the principal 
part of which, however, is on the south side of the river, 
occupying the summit and sides of a hill, which rises by 
a eentle ascent from the south and west, but is much more 
stcep on the other two sides, which are terminated by the 
valley of the river. The whole of the city was, till lately, 
surrounded by a wall, which, when perfect, was adorned 
by forty towers and twelve gates. The line cf circum- 


vallation ran around the north part of the city in almost 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


399 


a circular sweep; but on the south it ended in a point, 
which turned round a little to the east. Norwich is 
about a mile and a half in length from north to south, 
and about a quarter of a mile less, measured in the 
opposite direction. ; 

The prospect of the city, from a little distance, is both 
Imposing aud beautiful. ‘The massive walls of the old 
castle, crowning the summit of the hill and forming the 
central object in the view, the lofty spire of the cathedral, 
and those of the numerous parish churches rising in all 


| directions, give it an air of great magnificence. And, 


mixed with this architectural grandeur, is much more 
than the usual share of rural scenery to be found in 


popnious cities, arising from the many large spaces of 


ground that are laid out as gardens or planted with 
frnit-trees. The declivity immediately around the castle, 
in particular, having been converted into gardens, forms 
@ conspicuous and highly-ornamental ring of green, in 
the very centre of the crowd of houses. ‘‘ Some authors,” 
says Camden, “ style this city an orchard in the city, or 
a city in an orchard, by reason of the great variety of 
gardens, and pleasant intermixture of houses and trees, 
so that the populousness of a city and the pleasures of 
the country seem to he united in one.” 

There is no reason to suppose that Norwich was either 
a British or a Roman settlement. The Romans, how- 
ever, had a fortified station in this neighbourhood, in all 
probability at Caistor or Castor, a few miles south from 
Norwich. Castor seems to be merely the Latin Castrum, 
the name the Romans usually gave to their military 
settlements in the barbarous countries which they sub- 


jected to their dominion, and which, changed by the 


Saxons into Cester or Chester, we find in so many of 
our Iunglish names of towns that occupy the sites of 
these ancient fortified stations. Worcester, Winchester, 
Chester, are examples. The people of Norwich have a 
tradition that their city rose upon the decline of Castor, 
and was partly built with the materials of that old capital, 
according. to the following rhyme which is still re- 
peated :— 
“ Castor was a city when Norwich was none, 
And Norwich was built with Castor-stone.” 

The name of Norwich is pure Saxon, and seems to 
signify no more than the northern town: although Mr. 
Blomefield, the learned historian of the county, inter- 
prets it—a northern situation on a winding river. The 
place, at any rate, appears to have risen into note soon 
after the establishment of the Saxons in England ; and, 
about the middle of the seveuth century, it becaine the 
capital of the kingdom of East Angelia, and the cus- 
tomary residence of the sovereigns of that state. It is 
probable that, soon after this, the first fortress was 
erected on the site of the present castle. No part of the 
existing building, however, is .older than the eleventh 
century ; and much of it is a good deal more modern. 

The bishopric was founded about the year 630; but 
its original seat was not here, but at Dunwich. In 673, 
another bishopric was established at Elmham; and, in 


the course of the ninth century, that of Dunwich was 


suppressed. In 1075, the bishop’s seat was again 
transferred to Thetford; and here it remained till 1094, 
when it was finally settled at Norwich, now become the 
most important town in the diocese. Soon after the 
building of the present cathedral was commenced; and 
a little to the south of the cathedral, there was also 
erected a priory, which was filled with Beuedictine 
monks. Norwich had now become a great ecclesiastical 
capital. When ‘ Doomsday-Book’ was compiled, . it 
contained at least twenty-five parish-churches, and 
appears to have been a larger and more populous town 
than either Lincoln, Ipswich, Yarmouth, Cambridge, or 
Canterbury It constituted, at this time, a hundred in 
itself; the city jurisdiction probably extending about, a 
mile beyond the line of the walls afterwards erected. 


400 


It was the introduction of the woollen manufacture, 
however, in the middle of the fourteenth century, that 
established the wealth and eminence of Norwich. When 
the weavers, dyers, and dressers of woollen stuffs in the 
Netherlands, disgusted by the oppressive restrictions 
imposed upon their trades by the corporations of their 
native county, and, tempted by the advantages offered 
them by the wise policy of Edward JIT., came over 
in great numbers to England, they principally established 
themselves at Norwich and in the surrounding towns 
and villages. The increase in the number of the in- 
habitants of the city, which: took place soon after this, 
must have been very great, if we can give.credit to what 
we are told by Stowe, and: other of our old historians, 
that, in the great plague: of ‘1348; there perished in 
Norwich, between January .and July, above 57,000 
persons. It is true that, in that part of the county, the 
pestilence is represented as not having spared above one 
in ten of the population. |The city, however, eradually 
recovered from this blow, and continued to flourish, as it 
had done before; till two. centuries , after, when the me- 
morable insurrection, known by the name of Kett's 
Rebellion, ‘broke out in 1549. . ‘The commonalty at this 
time had been mide desperate by the oppressions of 
their superiors, and were ready to proceed to any ex- 
tremities that held out.a chance of releasing themselves 
from a yoke which they felt too burdensome to be 
longer borne.. Kett, who was a tanner of Wymondham, 
easily collected many thousands of them while they were 
in this humour, and excited them to join him in an 
enterprise, .the object of which seems to have been 
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MAGAZINE. [Ocroser 12, 1833, 
mobs, the attempt entirely failed, and only brought 
ruin upon its authors. Five thousand of the rioters 
were put to death, and Kett himself was hanged on the 
top of Norwich Castle. ‘That city had suffered severely 
from the rebels, and seems indeed to have been reduced 
to astate of almost complete desolation from the pillage to 
which it had been subjected, and the numbers of its inha- 
bitants that were butchered. It became, in consequence, 
a refuge for vagrants and other lawless characters 5; and 
inthis condition, Roger Coke tells us, “it was thonght so 
dangerous to the government, that, in_ the beginning of 
Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it was often debated in council 
whether for this cause it should not be demolished.” 
“But,” he adds, “a better fate attended that noble 
city, through the wisdom of that great queen, and the 
cruelty of the Netherland persecution about twenty years 
after this time.’ He alludes to the new influx imto 
England of the wool-workers of the Netherlands, about 
the year 1580, occasioned by the tyrannical government 
of the Duke of Alva. - Like their predecessors in the 
reion of Edward IIL, these emigrants flocked chietly to 
Norwich and its neighbourhood ; and their industry, 
and the new processes the knowledge of which they 
brought along with them, soon restored the city to its 
former prosperity. From this time, although the weaving 
of silk has, to a great extent, superseded that of woollen 
stuffs, Norwich has continued to flourish as a great 
manufacturing town, ‘The population, by the last census, 
was above 61,000, having increased from abont 36,000 
since 1811. It now contains, besides the cathedral, 
thirty-six parish-churches, and is -adorned , by many 
buildings and public institutions worthy of the weaith 
abitants: and its'eminence among the cities of 


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® * The Office of the Soctety for the Diffusion of Useful, Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
LONDON -—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND.13, PALL-MALL EAST. : 


Printed by Witu1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





99.1 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Ocrozrr 19, 1833. 





THE PASSENGER-PIGEON. 
(Abridged from ‘ Wilson's American Ornithology.’) 


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{ Passenger-Pigeon. ] 


Tuts remarkable bird inhabits a wide and extensive 
region of North America, spreading over the whole of 
Canada, and extending to the Gulf of Mexico south- 
ward, while the Stony Mountains appear to limit its 
westward range. In the United States it occasionally 
visits and breeds in almost every quarter. : 

The passenger-pigeon is sixteen inches long. and 
twenty-four in extent; and it is in this circumstance of 
size, and that of plumage, that we are chiefly to look for 
the distinguishing external difference between this and 
other species of the pigeon. A light slate colour pre- 
dominates in the head and upper part of the neck, and 
a darker slate in the back, wings, and rump ‘coverts. 
The throat, breast, and sides, as far as the thighs, are of 
a reddish liazel; the lower part of the breast and the 
thighs fade into a brownish red; and the belly and the 
vent are white. The lower part of the neck and sides 
are of a resplendent gold, green, and purplish crimson, 
the latter most predominant. The tail is long, and 
all the feathers taper towards the point; the two middle 
ones are plain, deep black; the other five on each side 
hoary white, lightest at the tips, and deepening into 
bluish near the basis. ‘The bastard wing is black; the 
segs and feet are lake seamed with white. The female 


is about half an inch shorter than the male, and an | 


Vou, II. 


inch less in extent ;—she resembles the male generally 
in colour, but less vivid and more tinged with brown. 
The most remarkable characteristic of these birds is 
their associating together, both in their migrations and 
during the period of incubation, in such_ prodigious 
numbers as almost to surpass belief, and'which has no 
parallel among any other feathered tribes on the face of 
the earth with which naturalists are acquainted. 
These migrations appear to be undertaken rather in 
quest of food than merely to avoid the cold of the cli- 
mate. The passenger-pigeons are found lingering in 


the northern regions around Hudson's Bay so late as 


December; ‘and their appearance is casual ‘and irre- 


cular. As the beech-nut constitutes the chief food 
of this wild pigeon, in seasons whien it is particu- 
larly abundant corresponding multitudes of pigeons 
may be confidently ‘expected. It sometimes happens 
that when they have consumed the whole produce of 
the beech-trees in one extensive district, they discover 
another, at the distance of perhaps sixty or eighty iniles, 
to which they regularly repair every morning, and return 


‘as regularly in the course of the day, or in the evening, 


to their place of general rendezvous, or, as it is usually 
called, the roosting-place. These roosting-places are 
always in the woods, and sometimes occupy a large 


3} 


402 THE PENNY 
extent of forest. When they have frequented one of 
these places for some time, the appearance it exlibits 1s 
surprising. The ground is covered, to the depth of 
several inches, -with their dung,—all the tender grass 
and underwood destroyed,—the surface strewed with 
large limbs of trees, broken down by the weight of the 
birds clustering one above another—and the trees them- 
selves, for thousands of acres, killed as completely as if 
girdled with an axe. The marks of this desolation 
remaill for many years on the spot; and numerous 
places could be pointed out where, for several years 
after, scarce a single vegetable made its appearance. 
When their roosting-places are first discovered, the in- 
habitants from considerable distances visit them in the 
night with guns, long poles, clubs, pots of sulphur, and 
various other instruments of destruction, and in a few 
hours fill many sacks and load their horses with them. 

The breedine-place differs from the roosting-place in 
its greater extent. In the western countries these are 
generally in beech-woods, and often extend, in nearly a 
straight line, across the country for a very great way. 
One is mentioned in the State of Kentucky which 
stretched through the woods in nearly a-north and south 
direction, was several miles in breadth, and said to be 
nearly forty in length. In this tract almost every tree 
was furnished with nests wherever tlhe branches could 
accommodate them, a single tree frequently containing 
more than a hundred. At this place the pigeons made 
their first appearance about the 10th of April, and left 
it altowether, with their young, before the 25th of May. 

The nest of the wild pigeon is formed of a few dried, 
slender twigs, carelessly put together, and with so little 
concavity that the young, when only half grown, can be 
easily seen from below. All accounts agree in stating 
that each nest contains only one young squab; but it is 
asserted that the pigeon breeds tliree or four times in the 
course of the same season. The young are so exceed- 
ingly fat, that the Indians, and many of the whites, are 
accustomed to melt down the fat for domestic purposes 
as a substitute for butter and lard. 

As soon as the young are fully grown, and before they 
leave their nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants of 
the neighbouring country often come with waggons, axes, 
beds, cooking utensils, many of them accompanied by 
the ereater part of their families, and encamp for 
several days in these immense nurseries. It is said that 
the noise in the wood is so great as to terrify the horses ; 
and when a person speaks he finds it difficult to make 
himself heard without bawling in the ears of those whom 
he addresses. The ground is strewed with broken 
branches, eggs, and young squab pigeons which have 
been precipitated from above, and on which herds of 
hogs fatten themselves. Great numbers of hawks, 
buzzards, and sometimes the bald eagle himself, hover 
about and seize the old or the young from the nest 
amidst the rising multitudes, and with the most daring 
effrontery. From twenty feet upwards to the tops of the 
trees the view through the woods preseuts a perpetual 
tumult of crowding and fluttering multitudes of pigeons. 
The noise of their wings is mingled with the frequent 
crash’ of falling timber; for the axe-men cut down 
those trees which seem to be the most crowded with 
nests, and contrive to fell them in such a manner that in 
the descent they may bring down several others. The 
falling of one large tree sometimes produces 200 squabs 
little inferior in size to the old ones, and almost one 
Inass of fat. 

I’rom the account given of the flight of vast flocks of 
the passenger-pigeon, it would appear as if they were 
hardly exceeded in extent or number by those of the 
locusts in the East. Mr. Wilsou mentions some of 
these flights that he himself saw. On one occasion he 
was on his way to Frankfort, in Kentucky, where, about 


one ocluck, he saw a flock of pigeous, more immense in | 


MAGAZINE. OcToBeErR 19, 
its numbers than any he had ever before witnessed, 
which flew in a compact body of several strata deep, at 
a height beyond gun-shot, with great rapidity and 
steadiness. ‘The breadth of this. vast procession ex- 
tended from right to left so far as the eye could reach, 
and seemed greatly crowded in all its parts. Curious to 
determine how long this appearance would continue, 
Mr. Wilson took out his watch to note the time, and sat 
down to observe them. He waited more than an hour; 
but perceiving that this prodigious procession seemed 
rather to increase than diminish in numbers and ra- 
pidity, and being anxious to reach his destination before 
night, he went on. When he reached Frankfort, about 
four hours after he first saw the flock, the living torrent 
over his head seemed as numerous and extensive as 
ever. On asubsequent occasion Mr. Wilson reverts to 
this flock, and makes the following curious calculation. 
If we suppose the column to have been one mile in 
breadth, (and he believes it to have been much more,) aud 
that it moved at the rate of one mile in a minute; four 
hours, the time it continued passing, would make the 
whole length 240 miles. Again, supposing that each 
square yard of this moving body comprehended three 
pigeons, the square yards in the whole space multiplicd 
by tliree, would give 2,230,272,000 pigeons ! 

In the Atlantic States, though they never appear in 
such unparalleled multitudes, they are sometimes very 
numerous, and ereat havoc is made among them with 
the gun, the clap net, and various other implements of 
destruction. As soon as it is ascertained in a town that 
the pigeons are flying numerously in the neighbourhood, 
the gunners rise em masse; the clap nets are spread 
out in suitable situations, and some live pigeous being 
made to flutter on a stick as birds just alichted, numbers 
of the passing flock are induced to descend and feed on 
the corn, buck-wheat, &c., which they find strewed 
about ; and, wlule thus engaged, the pulling of a cord 
covers them with the net :—sometimes ten, twenty, or 
thirty dozen are taken at one sweep. Meantime thie 
air is darkened with large bodies of them moving in 
various directions ; the woods also swarm with them in 
search of acorns; and the thundering of musketry is 
perpetual on all sides from morning till nicht. Wageon 
loads of them are poured into the market, where they 
sell from fifty to twenty-five, and even twelve cents per 
dozen ; and pigeons are ullversally found at breaktast, 
dinner, and supper, until the very mame becomes sick- 
ening. Whien they have been kept alive and fed for 
some time on corn and buck-wheat, their flesh acquires 
great superiority; but in their common state they are 
far inferior to the full grown young ones or squabs. 


THE CINNAMON-TREE AND ITS PRODUCTS. 


Tue cinnamon-tree (Laurus Cinnamomum) is indi- 
venous in the Islands of Ceylon, Sumatra, Borneo, the 
Sooloo Archipelago, the Nicobar and Philipine Islands, 
Cochin China, and the Malabar coast of the Peninsula 
of India, &c. ; and it has been cultivated in the Brazils, 
Guiana, the Isles of Bourbon and Mauritius, the West 
India Islauds, Egypt, «ce. 

The tree grows to the heigtit of twenty-five or thirty 
feet, and the stem to a diameter of from twelve to fiffeen 
inches. The young leaves have a scarlet-crimson colour ; 
the bark of the shoots is often beautifully speckled with 
dark green and light orange colours. ‘The leaves, when 
full grown, are from six to nine inches long, and from 
two to three broad. ‘The flowers appeer in Jamiary 
aud February, and the seeds ripen in Jime, Judy and 
August. The odour of the flowers resembles the dis- 
agreeable smell which emanates from bones when they 
are sawn. Unless when flowering, the tree emits no 
odour whiatever. 

Builaloes, cows, goats, deer aud horses, eat the leaves, 





1833.] 


and pigeons and crows swallow the berries with creat 
avidity. By these birds the tree is disseminated to a 
preat extent, and in the most impassable jungles; for 
their stomachs do not destroy the germinating qualities 
of the seeds. 

There is, perhaps, no part of the world in which the 
cinnamon-tree grows in such abundance as in Ceylon, 
but even in this island it 1s clnefly confined to the south- 
west quarter. In the other parts of the island the 
tree is comparatively rare, and the bark is deficient in 
the spicy, aromatic flavour which it possesses in what 
has been called the “‘ Cinnamon Country.” In the north 
and north-east parts of the island the tree has never been 
seen. ‘The cinnamon-tree thrives best in a rich, licht, 
dry soil, and some deeree of shelter from the ardent 
rays of the sun seems to be beneficial to it. Cinnamion- 
trees grow or rather live in nearly quartz sand; but they 
yield little cinnamon in this soil, as is the case in sandy 
parts of the Merandalon plantation near Colombo. 

There are four plantations of cinnamon in the vicinity 
of Colombo, consisting altogether of from eight te ten 
thousand acres, which afford a large portion of the cin- 
hamon that is exported from the island; but a consi- 
derable quantity is also procured from the jungles (na- 
tural woods), both in the provinces on the coast, and in 
the interior or Kandyan conntry. The principal products 
of the cinnamon-tree are :— 

Ist. Cassia buds. ‘The cassia bud of commerce is the 
immature fruit and the fleshy receptacle of the seed of 
the cinnamon-tree. ‘he prepared buds have the appear- 
ance of nails with roundish heads. Cassia buds possess 
the same properties as cinnamon, but in an inferior de- 
gree. They are chiefly prepared in the Eastern archi- 
pelago. ‘The price current of cassia buds in the Canton 
market is commonly about 6d. or 7d. a pound, and the 
import duty for the same quantity is ls. About 1815, 
the price current of cassia buds in London was from 
about 5s. 6d. to 6s. 6d. per pound. Cassia buds have not 
hitherto been an article of export from Ceylon, although 
they might be ccllected there in great quantities. In 
1516, the writer of this paper prepared abont 100 pounds 
weight of cassia buds at Colombo, which were sent to 
this country, by the late Sir Robert Brownrige, for the 
purpose of drawine the attention of government to this 
article of commerce, which was quite new in as far as 
Ceylon was concerned, for it does not appear that the 
Dutch prepared them during their occupation of the 
island 

2nd. Cinnamon. This highly esteemed spice is the 
prepared bark of the cinnamon-tree. The cinnamon 
harvest commences in Ceylon early in the month of May, 
and continues until late in October. Shoots, having a 
diameter of from half an incli to three inches, yield better 
cinnamon than larger shoots or branches. ‘The shoots 
are peeled, by making a longitudinal incision through 
the bark on both sides, and then introducing a knife 
under the bark, and thereby separating it from the wood. 

he green or outer bark is scraped off from the inner 
bark, which after being carefully dried becomes thie 
cinnamon of commerce. The Ceylon cinnamon is com- 
monly formed into quills or pipes about forty inches in 
length. Great care is taken to prevent the cinnamon 
which is exported from being mixed with inodorous 
and tasteless bark. ‘There are creat differences in the 
quality of cinnamon, which it is presumed are occa- 
sloned by varieties in the climate, soil, or exposure 
i which the plant grows, the age and health of the 
tree, and the care and skill employed in its preparation. 
Cinnamon is exported from Ceylon in bales of 923 
pounds weighi, covered with double cloths made of 
hemp 5-—not, as has been stated, of cloth made of the 
bark of the cocoa-nut-tree. The cocoa-nut-tree has no 
bark. 

}’rom the time the English took possession of Ceylon, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


408 


until about 1823, the East India Company had a mono- 
poly of the cinnamon produced in that island. For the 
purpose of superintending the sorting and baline of the 
cinnamon, the Company employed an inspector a two 
assistants at Colombo, and for a number of years the 
writer of this article was one of the assistants. The 
cinnamon was divided by the sorters into three kinds, 
first and second sorts, and a third or rejected sort. The 
Company’s contract comprehended the first two sorts, 
and the third or rejected sort remained in possession of 
the Ceylon government. It was part of the agreement 
between the contracting parties that the third sort should 
not be imported into Enrope; and while General Mait- 
land was Governor of Ceylon, a great quantity of it was 
burned with a view of emptying the  store-houses. 
During subsequent periods the third sort found its way, 
by a circuitous route, to England, where it was imported 
net under the name cinnamon, but under that of cassia. 


| Phe cinnamon, which is imported from the peninsula 


of India, Sumatra, J ava, &c., as well as the coarse cin- 
namon which is imported from Ceylon, is denominated 
casia. Cinnamon, which has been prepared in the 
ISastern archipelago, is usually made up into quills of 
about eighteen or twenty inches in length. The im- 
port duty from a British possession is 6d. per pound; 
the price of cinnamon in the London market varies from 
ds, to 10s. a pound, according to its quality. The quan- 
tities of this spice imported during the year 1832 were, 
under the head of cinnamon, 225,859 pounds, and under 
the name of cassia 398,420 pounds. Under the former 
denomination, 504,643 pounds were exported; and of the 
latter, 718,772 pounds. 

3rd. The essential Oil of Cinnamon. This oil is 
chiefly prepared in Ceylon, and generally from the broken 
portions which are separated from the quills during the 
Inspection and sorting. ‘The cinnamon chips are grossly 
powdered, and then they are immersed for about forty- 
eight hours in sea water. ‘The process of distillation 
follows, when an oil comes over, which separates into 
two kinds, a heavier and a lighter; the light oil sepa- 
rates from the water in a few hours, but the heavy oil 
continues to precipitate for ten or twelve days. Eighty 
pounds weight of cinnamon yield about two and a half 
ounces of oil, which floats upon water, and five and a 
half cunces of heavy.oil. Cinnamon oil pays an import 
cuty of 1s. per ounce, and that quantity usually sells at 
about a wuinea, 

The leaves of the cinnamon-tree yield an essential oil, 
which exactly resembles the essential oil of cloves; and 
the bark of the root is strongly impregnated with cam- 
phor, from which it may be extracted by sublimation. 

All the cinuamon-trees in Ceylon belong to govern- 
ment, and persons who are discovered uprooting trees, 
for whatever purpose, are liable to the penalty of trans- 
portation. By decoction the ripe berries yield a suety 
matter which is inodorous. ‘This substance is some- 
times used by the natives as a liniment for bruises, but 
they do not, as has been often alleged, make it into 
candles, for the purpose of diffusing the fine odour of 
cinnamon, or for illumination. The peeled wood, which 
is inodorous, is used for fuel only Hi. M. 


WILLIAM PENN'S FIRST TREATY WITH THE 
INDIANS. 
We refer our readers to our 34th Number for a short 
account of William Penn, the illustrious founder of the 
colony of Penusylvania. The wood-cut which we now 
pablish represents one of the most remarkable and in- 
teresting events in his life, and in the history of the 
world. It is a copy from the Jate Benjamin West’s pic- 
ture of the meeting of Penn and the Indian chiefs, for 
the ratification of the sale of the territory of Pennsyl- 
vania by the latter to the former, and the conclusion of a 
treaty of peace and amity between the twe parties. 
| 3 2 


404 THE PENNY MAGAZINE, [Octoner 19, 








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Penn had received the property of the vast tract of | right to. ‘The desired arrangement was made with 
land constituting the present State of Pennsylvania by | little difficulty; and the following year, Penn having 
patent from Charles II., in March, 1681; but he did | himself come over to view his acquisition, it was resolved 
not deem the royal grant to be his sufficient authority | that the compact which had been made should be 
for taking possession of the country until he had obtained | solemnly confirmed. 
the consent of those by whom it was actually inhabited. The principles and regulations which Penn had laid 
Accordingly, very soon after his patent had been signed, | down from the first for the treatment of the native 
he deputed commissioners to proceed to America, and | inhabitants, and the management of the intercourse 
to enter into a negociation with the Indians for the fair | between them and the European colonists, were cha- 
purchase of so much of the territory as they claimed a | racterised by a spirit of liberality exceedingly remarkable 


ar . . te i =~ 


1833.] 


for that age. -It was made part of the conditions on 
which grants of land were made to adventurers that all 
mercantile transactions with: the Indians should take 
place in the public market; that any wrong done to an 
Indian should be punished in the same manner as if a 
white man had been the person injured; and that all 
differences between planters and Indians should be 
settled by the verdict of twelve men, six of the one class 
and six of the other. And in a letter addressed to the 
Indians themselves; after mentioning the existence of a 
Great God, or Power,: the Creator of the World, who 
hath commanded us all to love, to help, and to do good 
to one another, he continued ;—“ I would have you well 
observe that I am very sensible of the unkindness and 
injustice which have been too much exercised towards 
you by the people of these parts of the world, who have 
sought theniselves to make great advantages by you, 
rather than to: be examples of. goodness and patience 
unto you. ‘This, I hear, hath been a matter of trouble 
to you, and caused great grudging and animosities, 
sometimes to the shedding of blood, which hath made 
the Great God angry. But Iam not such a man, as is 
well known in my own country. I have great love and 
regard towards you, and desire to win and gain your 
love and friendship by a kind, just, and peaceable life ; 
and the people I send are of the same mind, and shall 
in all things behave themselves accordingly ; and ff, 
in anything, any shall offend you or your people, you 
shall have a full and speedy satisfaction for the same, 
by an equal number of just men on both sides, that 
by no means you may have just occasion of being 
offended against them.” By the Europeans who first 
landed on the new continent, and by almost all who 
had followed them till then, the unhappy natives had 
been treated as if they had possessed no.more rights 
of any kind than the lower animals that occupied 
the wilderness alone with them. Penn was the first 
who really recognized them as belonging to the family 
of man. 

From the commencement of his connexion with them, 
Penn appears to have applied himself to the study of the 
character and manners of the Indian tribes. In a 
‘General Description of the Province of Pennsylvania,’ 
which he published in 1683, (to be found in his collected 
works, 2 vols. fol. 1726, vol. 11. p. 699,) he tells us 
that he had ‘even made it his business to understand 
their language, that he might not want an interpreter 
on any occasion. The following is a part of the account 
which he gives of their dispositions and habits in the 
same publication :-— | : om 

“ But in liberality they excel,—nothine is too good for 
their friend ; give them a fine gun, coat, or other thing, 
it may pass twenty hands before it sticks ;—light of 
heart, strong affections, but soon spent; the most merry 
creatures that live, feast and dance perpetually; they 
never have much,: nor want much; wealth circulateth 
hke the blood, all parts partake ; and though none shall 
want what another hath, yet exact observers of property. 
‘Some kings have sold, others presented me with several 
parcels of land;.the pay or presents I made them were 
not hoarded by the particular owners, but the neigh- 
bouring kings and their clans being present when the 
goods were brought out, the parties chiefly concerned 
consulted what and to whom they should give them. 
To every king there, by the hands of a person for that 
work appointed, is a proportion sent, so sorted and 
folded, and with that eravity, that it is admirable. Then 
that king sub-dividcth it in like manner among his de- 
pendents, they hardly leaving themselves an equal share 
with one of their subjects: and be it on such occasions 
as festivals, or at their common meals, the kings distri- 
bute, and to themselves last. Lhey care for little 
because they want but little, and the reason is a little 
contents them: in this they are: sufficiently revenged on 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


405 


us; if they are ignorant of our pleasures, they are also 
free from our pains. ‘They are not disquieted with bills 
of lading and exchange, nor perplexed with chancery 
suits and exchequer reckonings. We sweat and toil to 
live ; their pleasure feeds them; I mean, their hunting, 
fishing, and fowling, and this table is spread every 
where. ‘They eat twice a-day, morning and evening ; 
their seats and table are the ground. Since the 
Iuuropeans came into these parts, they are grown great 
lovers of strong liquors, rum especially ; and for it 
exchange the richest of their skins and furs. If they 
are heated ‘with: liquors, they are restless till they have 
enough to sleep; that ‘is their cry, ‘ Some more, and I 
will go to sleep!’ but, when drunk, one of the most 
wretchedest spectacles in the world. These poor 
people are under a dark night in thines relating to 
religion, to be sure, (the tradition of it,) yet they believe 
a God and immortality without the help of metaphysics, 
for they say, There is a Great King that made them, who 
dwells in a elorious country to the southward of them; 
and that the souls of the good shall go thither, where 
they shall live again.” 

It had been agreed that the meeting for the ratifica- 
tion of the compact should take place at Coaquannoe, 
the name given by the Indians to the spot on which 
Philadelphia now stands. The parties, however, after 
assembling, proceeded a little higher up the Delaware, 
to a place then called Shackamaxon, on which the 
adjoining village of Kensington has becn since built, 
and where there grew an immense elm, under the 
spreading branches of which the leaders on: both sides 
took their station. Mr. Clarkson, in his ‘ Life of Penn,’ 
(2 vols. Svo., Lon. 1813,) expresses his regret that in 
no historian has he been able to find any detailed ac- 
count of the circumstances of this meeting, though the 
event itself is so famous. He gives, however, some in- 
teresting particulars, principally derived from the tradi 
tions preserved in Quaker families, descended from those 
who were present on the occasion. ‘* William Penn,” 
he says, ‘* appeared in ‘his usual clothes. He had no 
crown, sceptre, mace, sword, halbert, or any insignia of 
eminence. He was distinguished only by wearing a 
sky-blue sash round his waist, which was made of silk 
net-work, and which was of no larger apparent dimen- 
sions than an officer’s military sash, and much like it 
except in colonr. On his right hand was Colonel Mark- 
ham, his relation and secretary, and on his left lis friend 
Pearson; after whom followed a train of Quakers. 
Before him were carried various articles of merchan- 
dize,: which, when they caine near the Sachems, (or 
kings,) were spread upon the ground. He held a roll 
of parchment, containing the confirmation of the treaty 
of purchase and amity, in his hand.. One of the Sachems, 
who was the chief of them, then put upon his own head 
a kind of chaplet, in which appeared a small horn. This, 
as among the. primitive eastern nations, and according’ 
to Scripture language, was an emblem of kingly power ; 
and whenever the chief, who had a right to wear it, 
put it on, it was understood tfiat the place was made 
sacred, and the persons of all present inviolable. Upon 
putting on this horn, the Indians threw down their bows 
and arrows, and seated themselves round their cluiefs, 
in the form of a half-moon upon the ground. The 
chief Sachem then announced to William Penn, by 
means of an interpreter, that the nations were ready to 
hear him.” 

Penn’s speech appears to have embraced nearly thre 
same topics as his letter already quoted. Alter its 
delivery he unrolled the parchment, and by means of 
the interpreter, explained tt article by article. ‘The com- 
pact was based upon the principle that the land was to 


be common to the Indians and to the English; and that 


the natives were to have the same liberty to do what was 


necessary for the improvement of their grounds, and the 


406 


providing of sustenance for their families which the 
settlers had. ‘‘ He then,” continues Mr. Clarkson, 
‘‘ paid them for the land, and made them many presents 
besides, from the merchandize which had been spread. 
before them. Having done this, he laid the roll of 
parchment on the ground, observing again, that the 
evound should be common to both people. He then 
added, that he would not do as the Marylanders did, that 
is, call them children or brothers only ; for often parents 
were apt to whip their children too severely, and brothers 
sometimes would differ: neither would he compare the 
friendship between him and them to a chain, for the 
rain might sometimes rust it, or a tree mi@ht fall and 
break it ; but he should consider them as the same flesh 
and blood with the Christians, and the same as if one 
man’s body were to be divided into two parts. He then 
took up the parchment, and presented it to the Sachem, 
who wore the horn in the chaplet, and desired him and 
the other Sachems to preserve it carefully for three ge- 
nerations, that their children might know what had 
passed between them, just as if he had remained him- 
self with them to repeat it.” The solemn pledges of the 
Indians to perform faithfully their part in the contract 
followed this haraneue. 

Penn does not mention this treaty in particular in his 
‘ Description of Pennsylvania,’ to which we have already 
referred ; but he gives the following general account of 
the manner in which his Indian friends were wont to 
conduct themselves on such occasions. “ Every king 
hath his council; and then ’tis admirable to consider 
how powerful the kines are, and yet how they move by 
the breath of their people. I have had occasion to be in 
council with them upon treaties for land, and to adjust 
the terms of trade; their order is thus:—the king sits 
in the middle of a half-moon, and half his council, the 
old and wise, on each hand; behind them, or at a little 
distance, sit the younger fry, in thesame figure. Having 
consulted and resolved their business, the king ordered 
one of them to speak to me; he stood up, came to me, 
and in the name of his king saluted me, then took me 
by the hand and told me he was ordered by his king to 
speak to me, and that now it was not he, but the king 
that spoke, because what he should say was the king's 
mind. He first prayed me to excuse them that they 
had not complied with me the last time; he feared there 
might be some fault in the interpreter, being neither 
Indian nor English; besides, it was the Indian custom 
to deliberate, and take wp much time in council, before 
they resolve; and that if the young people and owners 
of the land had been as ready as he, I had not met with 
so much delay. Having thus introduced his matter, he 
fell to the bounds of the land they had agreed to dispose 
of, and the price, (which now is little and dear, that 
which would have bought twenty miles, not buying now 
two.) During the time that this person spoke, not a man 
of them was observed to whisper or smile; the old were 
grave, the young, reverent in their deportment; they do 
speak little, bnt fervently and with elevancy: I have 
never seen more natural sacacity, considerine them 
without the help, L was goine to say the spoil, of tradi- 
tion; and he will deserve the name of wise that outwits 
them in any treaty about a thing they understand. 
When the purchase was agreed, great promises past 
between us of kindness and good neighbourhood, and 
that the Indians and English must live in love, as long 
as the sun eave light. Which done, another made a 
speech to the Indians, in the name of all the sacha- 
makers or kings, first, to tell them what was done; next, 
to charge and command them to love the’ Christians, 
and particularly live in peace with me, and the people 
under my government; that many governors had been 
in the river, but that no governor had come himself to live 


and stay here before ; and havine now such an one that | 
had treated them well, they should never do him or his} 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


fOcrozrrR 1, 


any wrong. At every sentence of which they shouted, 
and said amen in their way.” 

Everything connected with this treaty,—the only one, 
as Voltaire has remarked, ever made between the native 
inhabitants of America and the Christians that was not 
ratified by an oath, and that was never broken,—wag 
long held in reverential remembrance by both the Eng- 
lish and the Indians. ‘The parchment roll was carefully 
preserved by the latter, and was exhibited by them in 
various conferences which they had with the English 
authorities, down nearly to the era of the independence 
of the colonies. ‘The sash which Penn wore, Mr. Clark- 
son states, was, when he wrote, in the possession of 
Thomas Kett, Esq., of Seething Hall, near Norwich. 
Lhe elm, especially, which had shaded the assembled 
negociators, became celebrated from that day. With 
such general veneration and affection was it reearded, 
that even the British General Simcoe, when he was 
quartered in the neighbourhood during the revolutionary 
war, placed a sentinel under it to protect it from being in- 
jured by his men when they went out to collect firewood. 
It was at last, however, blown down in 1811, when its 
trunk and branches were cut into various articles, to be 
preserved as memorials of the honoured tree. 

Penn, as he intimates in the passage we have just 
quoted, concluded several other treaties or bargains with 
the Indians after this, which may be called the funda- 
mental compact between the two parties. All these 
negociations appear to have been conducted in a spirit 
of amity and mntual accommodation, which uo attempt 
to obtain undue advantages, or any suspicion of such an 
attempt, on either side, ever disturbed. ‘The state which 
Penn founded, although consisting of comparatively a 
mere handful of people, subsisted for several eencrations, 
as has been remarked, ‘in the midst of six Indian 
nations without so much as a militia for its defence.” 
Mr. Clarkson affirms, “ that as far as the Indians and 
Quakers (who may be considered as the descendants of 
William Penn) were concerned, the Great Treaty was 
never violated, a wood understanding subsisting at this 
moment between them and the descendants of the 
original tribes.” 


THE DEAF TRAVELLER.—No. 5. 


VEHICLES OF Persia AND TurRKEY. 


Havina bronght the reader one stage of my journey 
somewhat in detail, I must now a little alter my mode 
of proceeding, as it wonld not suit well with the objects 
of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ to go on with such minute 
descriptions as might be expected in a volume of 
travels, It is thus that I do not set forth my notes 
as travels within a specified range; but as the collective 
remarks and observations of a ‘ Deaf ‘Traveller.’ on such 
of the subjects which came under his notice as he judves 
to be interesting to the general reader. 

In the journey to Bagdad we had travelled in Ene- 
lish landaus from Petersburgh to Teflis, where, Jeaving 
them to be sold, we proceeded to Shausha, in the Kara- 
bangh, in waggons, without springs, belonging to the 
German colonists in Georgia: the roads then becoming 
impracticable to wheel-carriages, we were obliged to 
perform the rest of the journey on horseback in Persian 
saddles. Having never mounted a horse but twice 
before in my life, I had looked forward to this part of 
the journey with considerable apprehension; but though 
I had my share of the usual trials and difficulties of an 
inexperienced horseman, I got through without serious 
injury. It has been already stated that the early part 
of the present journey was performed on pack-horses 
so far as Tehraun. We were there induced to ride 
saddle-horses. I thus rode to the shores of the Black 
Sea, with the exception of the stages between Erzeroom 
and Guimush-Khona, which were performed in 2 kind of 


1833.] 


eages covered with felt, and thrown, after the manner of 
pruniers, over the backs of horses. At Gumush Khona, 
the Ganger of having our velicles dashed to pieces 
against the rocks obliged us to recur to the saddle. 
this various experience qualifies me to make a few 
remarks on the cdiiferent modes of travelling in the East. 

LT saw no whieel-carrisees of any kind in Persia; 
but in Armenia, a few stages before Erzerooin, ny 
eyes were gladdened by the sight of wheel-ruts in 
the snow. 1 could hardly believe this phenomenon to 
be caused by wheels, till 1 soon after overtook a rude 
cart drawn by two oxen, and laden with straw. In its 
tray-like form this vehicle is not unlike the carts or 
horse-chairs I had seen in Zealand, but not raised so 
high above the eround, and of infinitely ruder ma- 
terlals aud workimauship. ‘These arabas, however, are 
in both respects inuch superior to the vehicle of the 
samme name auid-form used in Asiatic Russia by the 
Kalmuks, ju which not the least iron is used, and the 
pecuhar and horrid creaking of whose wheels has 
obtained the appropriate designation of Tatar music *, 
At Constantinople the araba assumes a more splendid, 
if not a more diguified, appearance, being there used 
for much the same purposes as a hackney-coach among 
ourselves, and has the appearance of a long, covered 
eart, or light waggon, gloriously gilt, and painted with 
white, red, and green. ‘They are usually drawn by 
bullocks, gaily caparisoned ; and are almost exclusively 
appropriated to the use of sick persons, women and 
children, being considered too effeminate for the use of a 
inan in health. Exeept in the neighbourhood of ‘Veflis, 
in Georgia, no other instance than this at Constantinople 
was ever in the Kast brought under my notice, of wheel 
curriages applied to the purpose of personal conveyance. 
‘These arabas, however, can hardly be reoarded as éra- 
velling vehicles, in the proper sense of the term,—a short 
excursion into tne country is the eatreme linit of their 
Service. 

In Persia, where there are no arabas even for such 
uses, the most dignified vehicle for travelling is the 
takht ravan. ‘Vhis is a large box with an arched roof, 
and a door-way at one eud, covered usually with ereen 
cloth or even velvet, and often ornamented with em- 
broidery and lace. It is commonly five feet in leneth, 
nearly four in height, and abeut two and a half in 
breadth, allowing the person within the option of either 
extending himself at leneth, or of sitting upright, cross- 
legoed, or on his heels,—the latter convenience is that 
of which the natives are in general the most studious. 
On cach side there are staples, and by poles which are 
inserted into them, the vehiele is carried between two 
caimels, mules, or horses. ‘his mode of conveyance is 
used chiefly by ladies of distinction; yet it does not 
appear to be considered unmantly, as [ remember that, 
on leaving ‘Tabreiz for Bagdad, we saw approaching: the 
city we left, one of these takht ravans attended by 
soldiers and cavaliers well mounted and attired. And, 
ol inquiry, we were told that the vehicle contained 
Abbas Meerza, on his retum from the campaign in 
Kourdistan. Compared with a coach, this is doubtless 
avery awkward and undignified mode of conveyance. 
I suppose, however, that it is superior in point of dignity 
and convenience to any possessed in our own country 
ull the latter end of Elizabeth’s reign,—till efter the 
time when that dignified queen was wont to ride, on 
state occasions, behind the lord steward on a pillion. 

The only vehicle wlieh it reniains to specify, is that in 
which, as befure mentioned, I travelled from Erzerooin 

* TY remember, when at a Kalmuk camp on the River Kuma, a 
Tatar attended me in the exanunation of one of these arabas. I 
endeavoured to express to him iny surprise that no iron was used, 
and that the wheels were unplated. Pointing very significantly to 
my peucil-case, to himself, and to the cart-wheel iu succession, | 
understood him to intimate that if T would furnish hin with se/ver 
he would furuish his cart with aron. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


407 


to Gumush Khona. This differs Only in size and mode 
of use from the takht ravan, auless that the muhafy 
may be somewhat higher in proportion to its size than 
the takht ravan,—the object of lying out at length being 
relinquished, whilst that of sittiug upright is neteaeill 
It is about three feet long, nearly four hieh, and about 
two 11 width. Jn winter this is warmly covered within 
and without by thick felt, with a hanging door of the sane, 
so that altogether the muhaf/y is a snug little box to travel 
in. But it has this inconvenience, that however com- 
fortable it may be to an Oriental to sit cross-legg¢ed or 
on his heels all day, it requires much practice to render 
such a position tolerable to an European, though in this 
vehiele he is obliged to maintaiu it. I mentioned that 
two of these cages are thrown over the back of the horse 
in the manner of panniers,—so that two persons are 
carried, one in each cage. As the people are not at all 
cureful in the adjustmeut of the balance, the travellers, 
unless they are or nearly equal weight, are much annoyed 
by the uneyual ponderance of the one or the other, in- 
volving as it does the danger of complete overthrow. 
My invalid companion, on account of whose indisposition 
we thus travelled, though by no meaus the bulkiest of 
nen, So far outweiehed ine, that even the attendants 
perceived that something must be done to make the 
balance true. ‘They were, therefore, in the habit of gar- 
nising my cage with the hair-bags in which they gave 
tori aud chopped straw to their cattle, 


RICHARD CCZUR DE LION. 


Mosr of our readers probably remember the remantie 
story that is told of the manner in which Kine Richard I. 
was discovered by his minstrel, Blondel de Nesle, in 
a castle in the heart of Germany, into which he had 
been thrown by his enemy Duke Leopold of Austria, 
on his way home from the Hely Land. It is said that, 
as he pursued his search after his lost master, Blondel 
was lu the habit of inquirme, whenever he came to a 
castle or fortress, if there was any prisoner of distinc- 
tion confined init. Having arrived in the neigfibour- 
hood of that in which Richard was immured, he was 
informed, in reply to his customary question, that with- 
in one of its towers it was believed that a great kine was 
shut up. He felt strongly persuaded that it conld be no 
other than Richard ; but to assure himself, he took his 
station near the tower and began to sing a lay, which 
the Kine and he had composed together, or at least had 
often sung in concert, aud the notes of which he knew 
could not fall on the royal ear without awakening the 
couviction that a friend was nigh. Accordingly, he had 
ot finished the first stanza before the voice of Richard 
had jomed his own. Blondel immediately hastened 
home to England with the news of the discovery he had 
made, and which was received with ereat rejoicings by 
the people. Jt was the information thus obtained which, 
according to the story, led to the negociations for 
Kichard’s ransom, and soon after to his liberation. 

We tear, however, all this must be considered as 
belonging to the romantic, not to the real history of 





‘ Richard, that robbed the hon of his heart, 
Aud fought the holy wars in Palestime.’” 
Blondel’s ingenious and successful stratagem is not 
mentioned by any of the old English historians who 
relate the particulars of the King’s captivity and deliver- 
ance ; lor, indeed, does it appear that any attempt was 
miade, by those into whose hands he had fallen, to cou- 
ceal what they had done with him. ‘The incident is 
quite in the spirit of romantic fiction, aud has probably 
no betier foundation than many of the other adventures 
ascribed to Richard Coeur de Lion in the famous me- 
trical lezend which bears his name, and professes to be 
a narrative of his life and exploits. We may remark, by 
the by, that the title by which this kine is distinguished, 


408 THE PENNY 
Richard of the Lion’s Heart, had, according to this old 
romance, a somewhat different origin from that com- 
monly assigned to it, having been given to hun, not 
simply as descriptive of his remarkable valour and 
prowess, but in memory of a contest in which he once 
engaged with a lion, and which he terminated by thrust- 
ine his hand down the beast's throat and pulling up its 
heart. It was during his imprisonment in Germany 
that he performed this extraordinary feat, which it may 
be observed is alluded to by Shakspeare, both in the 
line quoted above from the play of Kine John, and in 
another passage of the same play, where it is said that 
against his 
“ fury and unmatched force 


The aweless lion could not wage the fight, 
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard’s hand.” 


That Richard, however, was both a lover of poetry 
and a practitioncr of the art himself, are facts that rest 
upon tolerably good evidence. He had, early in life, 
acquired a taste for the Pyrovengal miustrelsy, by his 
residence in France for many years as Duke of Poitiers ; 
and when he came to the throne, he invited to the 
English court several of the most eminent poets who then 
flourished in that country. From this circumstance we 
are to date the origin of the composition of metrical 
romances in England. Very few of the King’s own 
compositions, however, have come down to us. kG. 
Palaye, in his ‘ Literary History of the Tronbadours, 
eives translations of two sirventes, or song's of Richard’s, 
which exist both in Proyencal and in Norman French, 
there being ‘some doubt in which language they were 
originally written. As M. Ste Palaye remarks, these 
productions are inspired rather by anger than love, 
although theyeach conclude with the usual envoy to 
the poet’s mistress. . The first is. said to have been com- 
posed by the royal minstrel during his confinement in 
Germany, and is a bitter reproach. addres ed to his 
English and Norman Barons for not exerting them- 
selves to procure his liberation.. It consists of five 








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MAGAZINE. [Ocroper 19, 1833. | 
stanzas, and is expressed with a brevity and simplicity 
which produce a favourable impression of its author's 
taste and skill. A very diffuse and feeble translation 
of it, in Engish verse, may be found in Dr, Burney’s 
‘History of Music ;’ another and much more poetical 
version of it has since been published from the pen of 
Mr. George Ellis, in Mr. Park’s edition of Walpole’s 
‘Royal and Noble Authors.’ The other piece is also 
animated by the same indignant spirit, being a reproach 
addressed by Richard, after his recovery of his liberty, 
to his former fricnds the Dauphin of Auvergne and 
Count Guy, for declining to join him in the war in 
which he had engaged with Philip Augustus the French 
King. Auvergne, who was also a poet, replied to his 
strain, im an effusion which has also been preserved, 
Another picce in mixed romance and Provengal has also 
been published, which is said to be the very song by 
means of which Blondel discovered his royal master ; 
and a song by Richard, which had not before been 
known to exist, was printed at Toulouse, in 1819, in a 
work entitled ‘ Parnasse Occitanien.” See also the 
fourth volume of Raynouard’s Chota des Poésies Ort 
ginales des Troubadours. 

The castle in which Richard was confined is said to 
have been that of Diernstain or Durnstein, in Lower 
Austria. The anncxed wood-cut presents a view of its 
remains, taken from an engraving by Jos, Const. 
Stadler, published in 1798, when the castle 1s stated to 
have belonged to the Prince of Stahrenberg. It stands 
on the north or left bank of the ‘Danube, about fifty 
miles above Vienna, and, as may be scen on the print, 
on the top of a hill or rock, close to the river. ‘The village 
of the same name, at the foot of the hill, contains, or 
formerly contained, a convent of regular canons of 
St. Augustine. Richard is said to have been confined 
here for about fifteen months. He sailed from Palestine 
ou the 9th of October, 1192, and landed at Sandwich 
on his return to his own dominions on the 20th of 
March, 1194. 


















































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Berorr we entirely leave the subject of Organic Re- 
mains, in order to give the reader a clearer idea of the 
animals and vegetables which characterise the lias and 
oolitic series of the secondary strata (see diagram No. ], 
G to M, page 21), we give a representation of the prin- 
cipal species at present known as restored by some of 
the most eminent geologists. ‘The following 1s a list of 
the different objects as indicated by the figures in the 
wood-cut :-— 
J.— PLANTS. 


4, Dracena. 
* §, Araucaria Pine. _ 
6. 6. Mare’s Tail. (Hqutsetum.) 


IJ.— ANIMALS. 

13. Echinus. 
14. Nautilus. 
15. Cuttle Fish. 
16. Encrinitis. 


. 1. Ferns. (Filices.) 
. Zamia. (Cycade.) |’ 
. Arbor Vite. 


pmo!) 


CO & 


g. Dragon Fly. . | 
g. Geometric Tortotse. 
9, Megalosaurus. 


10. Icthyosaurus. ner 
11. Plesiosaurus. 17. Bird-like bats. (Ornitho- 
12, Ammonitis. cephatt.) 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section 15, 
Coat. 

Amonc the many mineral treasures which the soil of the 
United Kingdom contains, coal is unquestionably the 
most valuable. It is the chief source of our wealth 
and power as the foundation of our manufacturing 
industry ; and without such an abundant supply of fuel, 
our iron, lead, tin, and copper ores must haye remained 
in their native beds. It claims, therefore, the first place 
in the accounts we propose to lay before our readers of 
the mineral substances which enter into the business of 
common life; and we shall now proceed to describe its 
composition, the manner in which it exists in the bowels 
of the earth, its probable origin, the different situations 
in which it is found, and the methods employed to 

obtain it. 7 
Composition.—Coal is a compound substance, con- 
sisting of charcoal, bitumen, or mineral pitch, and earthy 
matter. Its various qualities depend on the manner 
in which these ingredients are combined, a large quantity 
of bitumen producing the fat caking qualities common 
in the Newcastle mines; and, when it is in small pro- 
portion, that dull variety which burns almost without 
flame ;—if there be much earth, the quantity of ashes 1s 
proportionably increased. ‘The specific gravity of coal 
compared with that of water is, on an average, as 1,290 
to 1,000,—that is, if a given bnlk of water weighs 1,000 
grains, a piece of coal of precisely the same bulk would 
weigh 1,250. When we say that coal is a combination 
of charcoal and bitumen, we employ rather the terms of 
a popular explanation of its composition than the strict 
lancuage of chemical analysis ; for that resolves it into a 
greater number of elementary substances, all of which are 
gases, with the exception of the carbon. Carbon, the che- 
mical name for charcoal in a state of purity, constitutes 
the chief ingredient of all coals, amounting to from sixty to 
seventy per cent.; it isa simple elementary body: but bitu- 
men, the other chief ingredient, is a compound substance, 
for it yields a large quantity of hydrogen gas, or inflam- 
mable air; and oxygen gas, that which constitutes the pure 
part of the air of the atmosphere and sustains life, has 
also been found in considerable quantity in coal. When 
coal is strongly heated in a close iron vessel, the hydrogen 
gas is given out in combination with carbon, forming the 
gas used for lighting; and those coals which contain 
the most bitumen yield the largest quantity of gas. The 
flame of coal, in a common fire, is occasioned by a sort 
of distillation of the coal which is slowly going on; gas 
is given out in the process, and is set fire to. We often 
see the Newcastle coal, in our grates, swelling up like a 


soap-bubble, which is occasioned by the disengagement 


of gas in the midst of the softened bituminous coal; and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


when we hear a rushing sound issuing from the coals 
accompanied with smoke, if we bring a bit of lighted 
paper to the smoke, it catches fire on account of the 
large admixture of gas. ‘The gas from coal may be 
exhibited in a very.simple way, by putting some peunded 
coal into the bowl of a tobacco-pipe, closing it up well 
with clay, and placing it in a strong common fire; 
smoke will soon issue from the pipe, and, if a lighted 
candle be applied, it will catch fire and continue to 


fame for some time: what remains in the bowl is coke 


or charcoal. : 

The coals used in this country for fuel may be divided 
into three different kinds: 1. The stone-coal, or splent- 
coal, as it is sometimes called from its splintery fracture, 
has the least proportion of bitumen, and, by being inter- 
mixed with much earthy matter, yields a large quantity 
of ashes. There is no precise name for this kind of 
coal, neither among miners nor geologists, and there is 
consequently much confusion in descriptions of dif- 
ferent coal-mines ; what we speak of now is the prevailing 
quality in the Staffordshire and Scotch coal-fields ;— 
2, the caking-coal, which is the prevalent quality in the 
Northumberland and Durham mines,—that used in 
London ;—and, 3, a variety called cannel-coal in Ene- 
land and parrot-coal in Scotland, which has a very close 
compact texture, is hard and splintery, crackles in the 
fire, and burns with avery bright flame: it is found, 
however, in comparatively small quantities. These 
different kinds are sometimes all met with in the same 
mine ; and there are many varieties in different places 
partaking more or less of the character of one of the 
three. 

Geological Situation.—All the above-mentioned qua 
lities of coals are found under the surface of the ground, 
associated with beds of sandstone of different textures, of 
a hard slaty clay called shale, presenting also great dif- 
ferences of composition, colonr, and hardness, and 
occasionally with beds of limestone. 
beds, or strata, of coal, sandstones, clays, shales and 
limestones, are usually called the COAL MEASURES by 
practical miners, and a tract of country containing the 
mines, a COAL-FIELD; both terms are very convenient 
and have been adopted by the geologists of this country. 


There is no determinate order in which these strata 


occur in different coal-fields, but in different parts of the 
same coal-field they generally preserve a regular sne- 
cession. Coal-fields are usually separated from each 
other by extensive tracts of country, composed of rocks 
in which no coal exists, and they vary in magnitude 
from a few acres to many square miles, ‘The measures 
in the same field sometimes consist of a hundred alter- 
nations of beds, all of very different degrees of thickness, 
from less than an inch to many feet; and this difference 
applies equally to the beds or seams of coal as to the 
rest, but the proportion of coal to the interstratified 
stones is always much inferior. 

The rocks which are comprehended in what, as a: 
whole, may be called the coal formation, are, beginning 
with the lowest :— 


1. The old red sandstone. (P*.) When this is pre- 
sent it forms the foundation of the whole, and 
when not present, the coal-measures rest, of 
course, on the older strata which lie beneath that 
sandstone. 

2. A limestone, called by English geologists the 
mountain Jimestone, and also, which is much 
better, the carboniferous limestone,—that is, the 
coal-bearing. (O.) 

3. Beds of coarse sandstone, composed of sand and 
flinty pebbles, sometimes fine-grained, but more 
generally very coarse, called the millstone grit, 


* The letters refer to the diagram in No. 51, 19th of January, 


Cle 


ro 


[Ocroser 26 


These associated. 





. 
’ 


1833.) 


(N.,) grit being a provincial name for sandstone, 
and millstones being gat from some parts of it. 
4,‘ The coal measures. (M.) 


In the north-eastern, midland, and southern coal- 
fields of England this is the usual order, the coal being 
ill above the millstone erit; but in the north-west of 
England the beds of coal are interstratified both with 
the millstone grit and with the carboniferous limestone. 

Thin seams of coal, and even sometimes so thick as 
to be worth working, are occasionally found in some of 
the superior deposits of the secondary strata; but ail the 
great coal-measures belong to the lowest part of the 
secondary series. (See Diagram in No. 51.) Coal, 
such as we are now describing, has never been found in 
or below the old red sandstone, P, and never in or above 
the magnesian limestone, L, or rather a red sandstone 
which lies immediately beneath that limestone. No 
searches for coal, therefore, in the great series of strata 
which le above the coal-measures, (see Diagram in 
No. 51,) or in the old red sandstone and the strata 
beneath, can ever turn to good account, and in ninety- 
nine cases out of a hiindred would bé friiitless. Vast 
sums of money have beeii again and again tlitown away 
in such attempts; and it is much to be regretted that 
many of those persons who, in this country, follow the 
profession of what is called a mineral surveyor are &x- 
tremely deficient in the scientific knowledge requisite for 
the right understanding of their business. Men of pro- 
perty too often suffer theniselves to be led into mining 
undertakings of vast expense by ignorant pretenders; 
and are often subjected in consequence to enormous losses 
which an application to a scientific geologist might have 
saved them from. In France and Germany this can 
rarely or ever happen, because the mining engineers of 
those countries are regularly trained to their business by 
a preliminary scientific education. Nothing can be 
more absurd than that, in a country so abounding in 
mineral treasures, and depending so much as Great 
Britain does for her national prosperity upon her mines, 
there should not exist a single institution, either in our 
universities or elsewhere, in which a young man desirous 
of educating himself thoroughly as an engineer of mines 
can obtain the necessary instruction. It would be an 
immense advantage to individual proprietors of mines, 
and would be an equally great national benefit, if a 
school of mines were established, where the different 
branches of science connected with the whole subject 
should be taught, with the means, at the same time, of 
giving that practical knowJedge without which the most 
complete scientinc education wouid be of little avail. 
But to make such a school really useful, it would be 
necessary that it should be a chartered establishment, 
possessing the power of conferring a professional title 
upon its pupils, after strict examination and ample proofs 
of competency. Bristol would be, perhaps, upon the 
whole, the best place for such a school, because it is 
itself in a mining country, is in the immediate neighbour- 
hood of the great coal and iron districts of the south of 
Wales, and not very far from Cornwall ; and its neigh- 
bourhood is admirably suited for elementary field-instruc- 
tion in geology. 

[We shall continue the subject of the geological situation of coal in 
our next Section. ] 





THE VINTAGE.’ 
(Abridyed from Redding’s ‘ History and Description of Modern 
WAnes.) — 
THE vintage is the next important operation connected with 
the vine after the cares of the dresser are over. Not only 
do the opinions of individuals in wine countries differ very 
widely upon the management of the vintage, but in some 


the period of the gathering is regulated by authority, as if 


the vine-grower was not the best judge of the state of his 
produce, and did not know when his property was in the 
best order for vielding him a profitable return, _ The signs 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


411 


which usually regulate it are observed in the south of Europe 
about the end of September, or commencement of October. 
In the north, the fear of autumnal frosts, which injure thie 
unripe grape, makes the seizure of the exact moment 
proper for the vintage a matter of great importance, 

The time of the vintage being fixed, it is begun as early 
in the day as possible after the sun has dissipated the dew. 
The red grape is generally ripe before the white. In the 
north, they are not so particular respecting the dryness 
of the fruit when gathered as im the south; in fact, it 
is often gathered, in ibe north of France, with the dew 
upon it. The gathern.g is uniformly continued with ag 
much rapidity as possible, if the weather continue fair, so 
as to terminate the pressing in one day. If this cannot be 
done, the vintage is suspended, for the fermentation in a 
warm, or even a moderate temperature, is far more energetic 
than in cold, damp weather. It rums the durability of the 
wine if the fruit is gathered and fermented at such a time. 

The fruit in some countries is cut off the plant with a 
knife; 1m France, the scissors is used, by which the stems of 
the branches are rapidly severed. In ruder countries, the 
hand only is applied, a mode injurious to the grape as well as 
to the vine. The most approved plan is to make three se- 
parate gatherings of the fruit. The first includes all the 
finest and ripest biiiches. The gieen, rotten grapes, or such 
as have been eaten into by insects, aré cleared from the 
bunches; which are then carefully carried hoine. The second 
gathering implies naturally a second pressing. The grapes are 
not quite as ripe as the first. The /ast gathering and pressing 
consists of the inferior grapes. The gathered bunches are 
deposited as lightly as possible to prevent the grapes from 
being bruised. All dry or spoiled grapes are cast aside, 
where proper care is used, as fine or delicate wine is in- 
tended to be made. Each labourer places his gathering in 
an ozier basket, or in a sort of wooden dosser, carried with 
the least possible motion. In France, in the department of 
the Marne, the grapes are carried on horseback covered with 
cloths. ‘The grapes in some countries are plucked from the 
bunches ; in others, they are placed entire in the press, stems 
and all. The best grapes only are used for making the 
better kinds of wine. The astringent principle lodged in the 
stems is thought to be beneficial, and to impart to the wine 
a capacity of endurance or long keeping. When picked, it 
is only for red wine, and is generally done by the hand. 
White-wine grapes are rarely picked from the clusters. 

Grapes were anciently trodden out, after being exposed, 

on a level floor, to the action of the solar rays for ten days . 
they were then placed in the shade for five days more, in 
order to mature the saccharine matter. This practice is 
still followed in some of the islands of the Greek Ar- 
chipelago, at St. Lucar in Spain, in Italy, at least in 
Calabria, and i111 some of the nofth-eastern departments of 
France. The fermentation is facilitated greatly by this 
process. In some parts of France, a labourer with sabots 
treads the grapes out as they come from the vineyard in a 
square box, having holes in the bottom, and placed over a 
The murk is then re- 
Sometimes they are squeezed out in troughs, by naked men, 
using both sabots and hands at once. 
- The wine-press differs in construction in different coun - 
tries. There are several kinds. For red wine, the grapes 
are trodden before they are pressed, in order to disengage 
the colouring matter from the skins; but in making white 
wine, this operation is never performed. In either case, 
where the press is applied, the first pressing 1s dispatched as 
quickly as possible. : 

At first the press is used gently, that the wine may not 
overflow. The pressure is then gradually increased, until 
the murk becomes moderately compressed. This is the first 
pressing. The grapes that did not sustain pressure, being 
scattered over the edgese«f the heap, are now gathered up, 
the press relaxed, and being placed upon the murk, the 
press is tightened again. ‘}he wine from this is called of the 
second pressing. The edges of the whole mass are now 
squared down with a cutting instrument, so that the mass 
of fruit is reduced to the form of an immense oblong cake, 
upon which the cuttings of the edges are heaped, and the 
press worked again, which makes wine of the third pressing, 
or, as the wine-maker calls it, wane of the first cutting. 
The pressing and cutting are repeated two or three times, 
and wnat liquid flows after is called among the laboureis 
wine of the second or third cuttings, mae 

3 


412 


‘The great wme-press 1s capable of making no less than 
twenty-five pieces of wine in four hours. Where vine- 
vards are extensive, as it is desirable to press the produce 
of the gathering in one day, however large in quantity, 
this press is useful; but it is the instrument of making a 
large quantity of secondary wine, rather than a little of a 
choice character, and is used principally by the larger 
vine-growers. There is only one species of wine which is 
inade without beating, treading, or pressing, this is what 
they call in Spain dagrima. The grapes, melting with 
ripeness, are suspended in bunches, and the wine is the 
produce of the droppings. , 
the muscatel grape of the warm south. In this way the 
richest Malaga is made. In Cyprus the grapes are beaten 
with mallets, on an inclined plane, with a reservoir at the end. 

Mr. Redding enters into some statements concerning 
various uses of the vine which are not in England commonly 
known, and which we are obliged by our limits greatly to 
condense. The must of the south is employed in making a 
rich confection with citrons and aromatic sweets. On the 
yesidue of the grapes, the refuse of the vintage, together 
with the murk, hot water and syrup are thrown, and the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


This can only be effected with’ 


[OcronER 26, 


product is a very small wine, cooling and pleasant to 
the taste. One hundred and ninety-five pints of murk, 
burned, furnish five and a quarter of potash. The murk, 
beaten in water and distilled, produces brandy ofa secondary 
quality. Vinegar is also extracted from the murk, which is 
first acidified. Verdigris is made from the murk by placing 
plates of copper and murk alternately in a vessel to which 
the plates fit in diameter. The whole is wetted from time 
to time with acid wine. When the oxidation is complete, 
the verdigris is taken out and put into packages for sale. I'he 
murk is eagerly sought after by all the herbivorous animals 
for nourishment. It is either given dry or mingled with 
other fodder. Fowls are remarkably fond of it. The 
murk is also one of the best dressings for the vineyard of any 
known, especially if mingled with dove or pigeon’s dung. 
The murk is often dried from the press, and burned where 
fuel is scarce, being laid up for winter use, and dried, as 
tan is treated in some parts of England. Even the pips or 
seeds of the grape are applicable to useful purposes: pigeons 
delight in them; and the Italians extract from them an oil 
much superior to that from nuts, either for eating or 
burning. 









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account of the ‘ City of Rochester’ in our 94th Number, 
and immediately above the bridge, stands Rochester 
Castle; still, though now a bleak and roofless ruin, re- 
taining many unobliterated features of its ancient vast- 
ness and magnificence. 


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its walls are, they still tower far above all the other 
buildings in their neighbourhood, the pinnacles of the 
cathedral only excepted *, The principal part of the 


castle may, indeed, it is said, be seen from a distance 
of twenty miles. 


* In our 97th Number the “tower of the Cathedral was by mis- 


take spoken of as surmounted by aspire. The spire was blown 


PA 


1833. | 


The fancy of our old chroniclers and legendary writers, 
which has adorned so many of our cities and building's 
with a fabulous antiquity, has not forgotten the Castle 
of Rochester. In reference to the stories which have 
been invented with the view of giving it as illustrious 
an origin as possible, we may adopt the sensible lan- 
guage of the antiquary William Lambarde, who, in his 
‘ Perambulation of Kent, (written in 1570,) says :— 
‘* Some men (desirous belike to advance the estimation 
of this city) have left us a far-fetched antiquity concerning 
one piece of the same, affirming that Julius Cesar caused 
the Castle at Rochester (as also that other at Canterbury, 
and the Tower at London) to be bnilded of common 
charge: but I, having not hitherto read any such thing, 
either in Cesar’s own Commentaries, or in any other 
credible history, dare not avow any other beginning of 
this city or castle than that which I find in Beda.”’ 

Bede’s account is, that Rochester took its name from 
one Rof or Rhof, who was once iord of it; but we have 
already shown that there is, in all probability, no found- 
ation for this etymology. As Rochester, however, was 
a military station in the latter times of the Roman 
empire in Britain, there is reason to believe that a fort 
occupied the site;of the present castle, the’ position of 
which is exactly such as would have recommended it for 
such an erection... Many Roman coins have been found 
within the ‘circuit of the castle, but none in any other 
part of the city; from which we may conclude that_ this 
was the.only part of the city which existed in the time of 
the Romans. :’ This supposition is still further confirmed 
by the language of documents of. the Saxon period, 
which speak of the place as still merely a castle. Indeed 
the name Rochester, as already explained in our former 
notice, is an evidence that the ‘station was originally 
merely a chester, castrum, or camp, and that the town 
has eradually grown up around the military fort. 














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If the Saxons had a castle here, which is by no means 
proved by the place having been called by them Cas- 
trum or Castellum, certainly no part of any such building 
down some years ago, and its place has been supplied by four tall 


pinnacles rising from the angles of the tower, as may be seen in the 
view of the city given in the Magazine, No. 94,, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


413 


now remains. © The oldest portion of the present ruin is 
in the early Norman style of architecture. The buildine 
was probably the work of the Conqueror,—one of the 
many strougholds which he erected in al! parts of the 
country to maintain his foreign dominion. Here it ap- 
pears that his illegitimate brother, the famous Odo, Bishop 
of Bayeux and Earl of Kent, resided; and kept his court 
as a sort of petty sovereign of the county. After the 
death of the Conqueror, Odo, who espoused the cause 
of his eldest son Robert, shut himself up in this castle, 
and being joined by many of the nobility, for some time 
resisted the arms of Rufus. The rebels were, however, 
at length reduced. In the latter part of this, or the 
commencement of the following reign, the vast and lofty 
tower which now forms the principal part of the ruin, 
is said to have been built by the famous Bishop Gun- 
dulph.’ But if the bishop’s whole expenditure, as is 
asserted, was only ‘‘ three score pounds,” comparatively 
cheap as labour and materials then were, he could not 
with that sum have advanced such a building very far. 
It is not improbable, therefore, that the tower was com- 
pleted, and indeed principally constructed, at the expense 
of the Archbishop of Canterbury, to whom the castle 
was granted by Henry I., and by whom it is known that 
extensive repairs and improvements were executed upon 
the fabric. ‘! By means of which cost done upon it at 
that time,” says Lambarde, “ the Castle of Rochester 
was much in the eye of such as were the authors of 
troubles following within the realm, so that from time 
to time it had a part almost in every tragedy.” 

In the reign of John, Rochester Castle was taken 
possession of, first in 1215, by the insurgent barons, who 
were, however, after some time, obliged to surrender. to 
the king’s forces, and, in the following year, by the 
Dauphin of France, whom they had called over to their 
assistance. In the time of the next king, Henry III., 
its strength was again attempted to be turned against 
the crown, having’, in 1264, immediately after the battle 
of Lewes, been attacked by the victorious Montfort, arl 
of Leicester. This celebrated person, Lambarde tells 
us, “oirded the city of Rochester about with a mighty 
sieve, and setting on fire the wooden bridge, and a 
tower of timber that stood thereon, won the first gate or 
ward of the castle by assault, and spoiled the church and 
abbey; but being manfully resisted seven days together 
by Earl Warren that was within, and hearing suddenly 
of the king’s coming thitherward, he prepared to meet 
him in person, and left others to continue the siege, all 


i which were soon after put to flight by the kine’s army.” 


_ The last repair of the building that is recorded to 
have taken place was in 1461, in the reign of TEd- 
ward IV. Since then it appears to have been almost 
entirely neglected, and has been allowed gradually to fall 
into the ruinons state in which it now. appears, thoueh 
not without the waste of time having been assisted by 
active dilapidation. ‘The ruin, which is now the pro- 
perty of the Earl of Jersey, occupies a quadrangular 
space of about three hundred feet in each dimension. 
The north, south, and east sides had been formerly 
defended by a deep ditch; but that is. now filled up. 
The river flows on the west side. ‘The walls are, for 
the most part, built of rough stones from Caen, bound 
together by a cement which has now become extremely 
hard, Their thickness varies from eleven to thirteen 
feet. Fragments of several towers still remain at the 
angles, aud in other parts of the building ; but of these 
there is no other to be compared in magnitude to that 
called Gundulph’s Tower, which has been already 
mentioned, and which stands at the south-east angle of 
the castle. This is a quadrangular erection, each side of 
which, at the base, is not less than seventy feet long, 
while the height of the whole is a hundred and twelve 
feet. The walls incline slightly inwards as they rise 


| from the ground, Attached to the east angle is a smaller 


414 


tower, between seventy and eighty feet in height, which 
is to be considered as part of the same erection. ‘These 
two towers appear to have contained the principal 
apartments of the castle, and they have evidently been 
laid out so as to afford accommodations of princely 
magnificénce. <A partition wall, of five feet in thickness, 
runs up the middle of the Jarger tower, from the ground 
to the roof; and the height has been divided into four 
successive Stories by three floors, the marks of which on 
the walls are still perfectly discernible, although the 
joists and boards of which they consisted have long been 
removed. They were used, it is said, in building a brew- 
house on the neighbouiing common. Each of the six 
rooms measures, in the interior, forty-six feet in length 
by twenty-one in breadth. ‘The height of those on the 
eround floor is thirteen, that of those in the second 
story twenty, that of those in the third story thirty-two; 
and that of those in the fourth story sixteen feet. Wind- 
ing-stairs of about five feet and a half in width, now 
much decayed, occupy the east and west ‘angles, and 
open into every apartment. ‘There are also com- 
munications on each floor between the two parts of the 
tower, by arched door-ways formed in the partition 
wall, In the third story, where the state apartments 
appear to have been, these arches, which are four in 
number, are richly ornamented, and are eighteen feet in 
height, each of the three columns which divide them 
being four feet in diameter. Through this central par- 
tition, also, a well, two feet nine inches in diameter, 
ascends to the summit of the building, communicating 
with each floor as it passes up. ‘The rooms have all 
fire:places ; but there are no chimneys, the vent for the 
smoke being merely a hole formed in the outer wall 
ummediately above the fire-pluce. Other larger openings 
serve for the admission of light and air. ‘The roof of 
the highest rooms is ninety-three feet in height from the 
eround, and beyond that there is an uncovered battle- 
Inent rising seven feet higher. Finally, the towers at 
the four corners ascend to the height of twelve feet above 
the termination of the battlement. 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—WILLIAM DAMPIER.— 
No. 1. 


Tuts extraordinary man, whose whole life seems almost 
to have been spent in distant wanderings and adventures, 
was born in the year 1652, in the county of Somerset- 
shire. little is known of his early circumstances, but 
his family appears to have been respectable, and to have 
afforded him the means of a common day-school educa- 
tion, though nothing more. His father, however, dying 
When he was young, William, having given a decided 
preference to that calling, went to sea, as apprentice to 
the captain of a Newfoundland trader. His first voyage 
was to France, and his second to Newfoundland, where the 
intense cold sickened him of the particular trade in which 
he was then engaged. Returning to England, and 
being more than ever anxious to see the world, he deter- 
mined to try a warmer climate, and accordingly embarked 
in an East Indiaman as a common sailor. In this capa- 
city, and when he was little more than seventeen years 
of age, he made a voyage to Bantam. 

We next hear of him in the king's service, and as a 
man already distinguished as an able mariner. In the 
Dutch war he served under Sir Edward Sprague as a 
man before the mast, and was present in two engage- 
ments. 

He was then obliged by ill health to pass a few months 
quietly ashore, He lived, during this time of brief repose, 
with a brother, who seems, like the futher in that beautiful 
truth-like fiction—* Robinson Crusoé,’—to have opposed 
the wandering inclinations of the sailor, and with want 
of similar success. As soon as the state of his health 
permitted, he went out to Jamaica ; his honesty, activity, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[OcTOBER 26, 


and talent, having recommended him to a planter, who 
was happy to engage him as under-manager of one of 
his estates. ‘This employment, though sufficiently lucra- 
tive, was much too fixed and uniform for Dampier’s 
disposition ; he says, he soon found he was ** completely 
out of his element:” accordingly he quitted it, and 
again turning to his favourite element, the sea, he em- 
barked for Port Royal, where he engaged “ with one 
Mr. Fishook, who traded to the north side of the island 
of Jamaica, and sometimes round it.” In this service 
he attentively studied, and made himself acquainted 
‘‘ with all the ports and bays. about Jamaica, and with 
all their manufactures; as also with the benefit of the 
land and sea-winds,” Such application to the more im 
portant parts of his profession is as rare as it is laud- 
able in a common sailor not twenty-three years of age. 
In six or seven months he grew tired also of this 
confined, coasting navigation, and shipped himself 
‘“aboard one Captain Hudsel, who was bound to the 
bay of Campeachy to load log-wood.” . This voyage 
was beset with dangers in an extraordinary degree :-—the 
vessel, on her return, was nearly taken by some Spanish 
cruizers, who, acting in the barbarous spirit of those 
times, would have made Dampier and all on board 
slaves; soon after she struck on a sand-bank, where she 
was well nigh lost; and towards the end of the voyage 
her provisions ran so short that there was risk of starva- 
tion. At length, however, they reached Port Royal, 
“and so,” says our adventurous seaman, who never 
makes much of his dangers, “ ended this troublesome 
voyage.” During its prosecution he obtained new 
and important nautical information concerning the 
Alcrane reef, the Colorado shoals, the grand Caymanes, 
and other dangerous places then very imperfectly known. 
He says himself that “ in all these rambles we got as 
much experience as if we had been sent out on a design,” 
2.€.,0n a voyage of survey. But Dampier seems to have 
been the only person of the company capable of making 
proper observations and notes of all he saw and learned, 
and preserving them for the future guidance of seamen. 
In Campeachy Bay he had seen, among the log-wood 
cutters, a scene of independence—an adveuturous mode 
of life,—a field for enterprise, with ‘‘ a great prospect of 
vetting money, if men would be but diligent and frugal,” 
that perfectly suited his ardent disposition. , Almost as 
soon, therefore, as he was “ paid off” from his last ship, 
he purchased hatchets, axes, long knives, saws, wedges, 
a moschito tent to sleep in, a gun, a supply of powder 
and shot, with other things proper for the new kind of 
life he contemplated, and sailed again for Campeachy. 
Reaching that place in safety, he settled among two 
hundred and sixty or two hundred and seventy logwood 
men, who were chiefly English, who had all been bucca- 
neers, and who were then living at large, with no laws 
but their own will or caprice;—in a sort of republic 
which, in several respects, would have exactly suited 
Trinculo, the drunken boatswain in Shakspeare’s ‘ ‘Tem- 
pest. Their manner of living, which was certainly not 
without its hardships, is admirably described by Dam- 
pier. ‘Their abodes were log-huts covered with palmeto 
leaves to defend them from the violent and soaking 
rains ; they were erected close by creeks or inlets, for 
the benefit of the sea breezes during the oppressive 
heats, and as near to the logewood groves as possible, 
that they might not have to carry the heavy material 
far. As they exhausted the trees, they removed their 
huts to another grove. Their bedding was a wooden 
frame raised three feet and a half above the ground,— 
four stakes or poles, rising above this frame, supported 
a light tent, ‘* out of which here is no sleeping for mos- 
chitoes.’ Another frame covered with earth served as a 
cooking-place, and for stools and chairs they used logs. 
‘During the wet season,” says Dampier, ‘ the iand 
where the lozwood grows is so overflowed that they step 


1833.] 


from their beds into the water, perhaps two fect deep, 
and continue standing in the wet all day, till they go to 
bed again; but nevertheless account it the best season 
in the year for doing a good day's labour in.” | 

For food they hunted the wild cattle, with which, and 
with alligators, the savannahs of the country swarmed. 
“When they have killed a beef,” says Dampier, “ they 
cut it into four quarters, and, taking out the bones, each 
man makes a hole in the middle of his quarter, just big 
enough for his head to go through, then puts it on like a 
frock and trudgeth home; and if he chances to tire, he 
cuts offsome of it and flings it away.”’ 

For flour, bread, and most other luxuries, they de- 
pended on the ships that visited them to purchase their 
logwood. ‘The arrival of one of these vessels was a 
sienal for the commencement of a scene of almost 
general riot and debauchery ; and in a few days these 
uneducated, imprudent men would spend the earnings of 
months of hard labour in a dreadful and dangerous 
climate, where, moreover, they were constantly liable to 
be surprised by the Spaniards, who, with some reason, 
denied the legality of their settlement, and who treated 
them as pirates, and made slaves of those they took. 

From the high prices loewood then commanded, there 
was indeed, as Dampier observed, ‘a great prospect of 
getting money. Comparatively handsome fortunes 
might have been made in a short time by industry and 
thrift, but these virtues could scarcely exist in a society 
of buccaneers, who, so far from having relinquished 
their old habits, still made incursions “ among the 
nearest Indian towns, which they plundered, and brought 
away the Indian women to their huts, and sent their 
husbands to be sold at Jamaica.” It was the im- 
moderate use of the rum of that island that confirmed 
their vices, drained their purses as fast as robbery or 
labour could fill them, and kept these ignorant sailors 
constantly poor and desperate. Dampier, who fre- 
quently laments these vices, which, however, he must 
have been prepared to expect, says, in his quaint way, 
“ Besides, they had not their old drinking bouts forgot, 
and would still spend £30 or £40 at a sitting, aboard 
the ships that came hither from Jamaica, carousing and 
firing off guns for three or four days together. And 
though afterwards many sober men came into the bay to 
cut wood, yet, by degrees, the old standers so debauched 
them that they could never settle under any civil govern- 
ment.” ihe —— 

How our traveller should have stayed, as he did, for 
nearly three years among such men, and have escaped 
the moral contagion, is truly astonishing. During this 
residence he diligently collected the most valuable 
information concerning the natural history of those parts 
of the western world, the winds, currents, coasts, and 
about all subjects of importance to the nautical pro- 
fession. All this Dampier performed while working as a 
common logwood cutter in the Bay of Campeachy. 

Instead of spending his money in ruin, like the rest, 
he saved it, and, at the end of his labours, returned to 
Jamaica in 1678, and thence to England, with capital 
sufficient to start him again in an advantageous manner. 
His old comrades at Campeachy, some time after his 
departure, met a tragical fate: the Spaniards, seeing 
their careless way of living, fitted out an expedition 
which surprised them in their huts, and either butchered 
them or made them prisoners. The prisoners were sent 
up the country and sold as slaves. 

Our traveller arrived at London in the beginning of 
August, 1678, and at the beginning of the following 
year, he says, he set out again for Jamaica, “ in order to 
have gone thence to Campeachy; but it proved to be a 
voyage rouud the world.” 

fie invested the money he had made as a logwood 
cutter in English merchandise, which he sold at Jamaica, 
where he intended * to stock himself with rum and 
sugar, Saws, axes, hats, stockings and shoes, and such 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


415 


other commodities as would sell amone' the Campeachy 
logwood-cutters ;” for his past experience did not deter 
him from revisiting that wild place. Circumstances, 
however, occurred’ which changed his plans, and he 
remained all that year at Jamaica in expectation of some 
other business in which to employ his capital. While 
there, he happened to hear that a person residing on the 
island had “ a small estate” for sale; and as it was in 
Dorsetshire, ‘ near his native county of Somerset,” 
(it is interesting to observe these local attachments in 
such a man) Dampier bought it. He says, ““I was 
just embarking myself for England, about Christmas, 
1679, when one Mr. Hobby invited me to go first a 
short trading voyage to the country of the Moschitoes*, 
I was willing to get up some money before my return, 
having laid out what I had; so I sent the writing of 
my new purchase along with the same friends I should 
have accompanied to England, and went on board Mr. 
Hobby.” 

At this time the buccaneers, whom Dampier calls 
“ privateers,” had again mustered in great force, and it 
was our traveller's fortune to fall in with them, at the 
western extremity of Jamaica. Seduced by the splendid 
prospects presented to them by the marauders, every 
man on board Hobby’s ship, except himself and Dampier, 
went and joined them; “and being thus left alone,” 
Says our adventurer with admirable coolness, “ after 
three or four days’ stay with Mr. Hobby, I was the > 
more easily persuaded to go too.” 

It must excite our reader’s surprise to see how readily 
a man of a decent character and of an enliehtened mind 
joins an association which we fear, after all, we must: 
denominate piratical. A short account of those bodies, 
and of the notions of right and wrong prevalent at the 
time, will somewhat diminish this astonishment, and is 
necessary to make out Dampier’s curious history. 

The Spaniards, who were the discoverers of America 
and the first European settlers in the West Indies, 
were actuated by a most jealous and illiberal spirit, 
astonishing even at that period, when the true nature 
of commercial intercourse was not understood, and 
when even the simplest rules of political economy were 
generally unknown. — 

Spain, indeed, considered the New World as treasure- 
trove, of which she was lawfully and exclusively the 
mistress. A bullofthe Roman Church, granted by Pope 
Alexander VI., gave what was then esteemed asa sacred 
recognition of these exclusive rights, and the govern- 
ment of Spain determined, that none but Spaniards 
should trade with, or land upon, the American continent 
and islands. Such folly must now appear unaccountable; 
but it is an historical fact, that the Spaniards at first 
fancied they could keep their discoveries in the West 


‘Indies a secret from the rest of the world, and prevent the 


ships of other nations from finding their way thither. 
Not all the power of Spain, comparatively great as it 
then was, nor all the cruelty exercised in support of her 
extravagant pretensions, could deter the enterprising 
mariners of France and England from attempting to 
Share in the greatly-exaggerated wealth of the New 
World. As early as 1526, one Thomas ‘Tyson was sent 
to the West Indies as factor for some English merchants, 
and many adventurers soon followed him. ‘The French 
began to increase in that part of the world about the 
same time. All these men went with the certainty of 
meeting with hostility from the Spaniards, and with the 
determination of returning it with hostility. ‘To repress 
these intruders the Spaniards employed armed ships, or 
euarda-costas, the commanders of which were istructed 
to take no prisoners! On the other hand, the Enelish 
and French, to whom were soon joined many Dutchinen 
and some Portuguese, closely combined amone them- 
selves, treated every Spanish ship as an enemy, made 
descents on the coasts, ravaging the towns and settle- 
* The Moschito Indians lived on the Isthmus of Darien. 


NX 


416 


ments of the Spaniards, and repaid cruelty with cruelty. 
A continual warfare was thus established between Eu- 
ropeans in the West Indies, entirely independent of the 
eovernments of their respective countries. - All Euro- 
peans, not Spaniards, whether there was peace or war 
between their nations in the Old World, on their meet- 
ing in the New, regarded each other as friends and 
allies ; they styled themselves ‘‘ Brethren of the Coast,” 
and held the Spaniards as their common foe. 

When not engaged in predatory expeditions, the prin- 
cipal occupation of these men was hunting wild cattle ; 
but this they did not begin to do till some years after 
their first appearance in the West Indies: at.a still later 
period many of them became logwood-cutters in the Bay 
of Campeachy, as we have already shown.: As hunters, 
they could turn the hides, .suet, and dried meat of the 
wild beeves to good account; as wood-cutters, their 
calling was yet more profitable; and had the Spaniards 
permitted them to follow these occupations in peace, it 
is reasonable to suppose that they would gradually have 


settled into inoffensive‘members ,of society, or, at least, 
that they never would: have -formed such numerous and_ 


desperate bands’ as they did eventually. But the 
Spaniards regarded every rood of land as their own, and, 
in their unwise jealousy, would-not permit any. other 
people to derive advantage even. from those vast tracts 
of country which they themselves had no population, to 
occupy, and which, in many instances, they had scarcely 
seen, until, attracted by the news that Europeans had 
settled in them, they went to burn, destroy; and murder. 

When the court of Spain made formal complaints to 


the different governments of Europe, of which the ad-: 


venturers in the West Indies were the natural subjects, 
the weneral answer received was, “ that the men, against 


whom they complained, acted entirely on their- own. 
authority and responsibility, not as the subjects of any. 


prince, and that the King of Spain was at liberty to 
proceed against them according to his, pleasure.” - Far 
different, however,-was the ‘reply of our: high-minded 
Queen Elizabeth. She said boldly, ‘‘ that the Spaniards 
had drawn these inconveniences upon themselves ,by 
their severe and unjust dealings in their American com- 
merce; for she did not understand why either her sub- 
jects, or those of any other European prince, should be 
debarred from trafic in the West Indies. ‘That as she 
did not acknowledge the Spaniards to have any title by 
the donation of the Bishop of Rome, so she knew no 
right they had to any places other than those they were 
in actual possession of ; for, that their having touched 
only here and there upon a coast, and given names to a 
few rivers or capes, were such Insignificant things ;as 
could no ways entitle to a proprietry further than in the 
parts where they actually settled and continued to in- 
habit *,” 


This remonstrance had no effect on the Spaniards, 


who continued to treat the adventurers not of their 


nation as lawless intruders, and to torture and extermi-. 


nate them whenever they had an opportunity. Such 
cruellies were much circnlated, and probably much 
exagerated in Europe, in the form of popular stories, 
and produced a great effect. One Montbars, a French- 
man, on reading a narrative of this kind conceived such a 
deadly hatred against the Spaniards, that he went to the 
West Indies, became a buccaneer, and pursued his ven- 
geance with so much success, that he obtained the title 
of * ‘The Destroyer.” 

As the arms of-the buccaneers were solely directed 
against the Spaniards, all the other European nations 
who gradually made regular settlements in those parts, 
and lived under governors appointed by their several 
courts, regarded them as champions in the common 
cause. When any of those nations were at war with 
Spain, they granted regular commissions, to the bucca- 
reers, who then acted as privateers in their country’s 


* Camden. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


service. | From these and other circumstances the-bucca- 
neers obtained great power, and even temporary respect. 
Many men of respectable lineage and education joined 
their association ; nor were .they considered as robbers 
and sanguinary pirates, until later, and’ more settled and 
more moral times. Peter of Dieppe, called ‘‘ Peter the 
Great,” L’Olonnais, Le Basque, and Mansvelt, were 
among the most celebrated of the buccaneer captains; 
but their fame was eclipsed by a Welchman, named Henry 
Morgan, who, after many successes, about nine years 
before Dampier’s expedition, had crossed the isthmus ot 
Darien to the South Sea, and taken and plundered the 
rich city of Panama. ee 4 

- All these commanders were detestably cruel, but at 
the period when Dampier agreed to take part in their 
adventures, the buccaneers, renerally, were much more 
humanized. . The vices:of drunkenness and gambling 
still, however, prevailed among the majority ; who, after 
a life of almost.unceasing danger, perished prematurely 
in battle, by accident, or by disease. A few of them 
merited and found a better fate;—and these few were men 
who had cultivated their: minds, who. were fond of read- 
ing, who delighted in examining the wonderful varieties 
of nature presented:to them in:the course of. their wan- 
derings, and:who, in such resources, found sufficient 
amusement without drinking or playing.’ - =, + 

{To be continued. ] . 


Tyranny of Fashion.—The abominable custom of) flat- 
tening. their heads prevails among the Indians of North 
Western America. - Immediately after birth the infant is 
placed in a kind of oblong cradle, formed like a trough, with 
moss under it. One end, on which the head ‘reposes, is 
more elevated than the rest. A padding is then placed on 
the forehead, with a picece of cedar-bark over it, and by 
means of cords passed through small holes on each side of 
the cradle the padding is: pressed against the head.- It is 
kept in this manner above a year, and is not, I believe, 
attended with much pain. . The appearance of the infant, 
however, while in this state of compression, is frightful, and 
ifs little black eyes, forced out by the tightness of the band- 
ages, resemble those of a mouse choked in atrap. When 
released from this inhuman process, the head is perfectly 
flattened, and the upper part of it seldom exceeds an inch 
in thickness. It never ‘afterwards recovers its rotundity. 
They deem this.an.essential point of beauty, and the most 
devoted adherent of our first Charles never entertained a 
stronger aversion to a Roundhead than these savages.— 
Ross Cox's Adventures on the Columbia River. 

The practices .of savages. have sometimes a parallel in 
those of civilization. ‘A quarter of a century ago,—at most 
half a century,—it was the custom of nurses to bind infants 
so tightly round. the body with swaddling-clothes, that the 
natural form of the chest was altered. Some: young ladies 
still do the same with stays. 


The Affection of a-Wolf.—“ By way of enlivening the 
description of the structure of animals, he (M. de Candolle, 
Lecturer on Natural History at Geneva) introduced many 
interesting particulars respecting what he called lear morale, 
or their natural dispositions, and the changes they under- 
went when under the dominion of man. Among other 
instances of the affection which wolves had sometimes shown 
to their masters, he mentioned one which took place in the 
vicinity of Geneva. A lady, Madame M , had a tame 
wolf which seemed to have as much attachment to its muis- 
tress as a spaniel. She had occasion to leave home for 
some weeks: the wolf evinced the greatest distress after 
her departure, and at first refused to take food. During 
the whole time she was absent, he remained much dejected : 
on her return, as soon as the animal heard her footsteps, he 
bounded into the room in an extasy of delight; springing 
up, he placed one paw on each of her shoulders, but the 
next moment he fell backwards and instantly expired.’"— 
Bakewell’s Travels in the Tarentaise, &c., vol. i1., p. 153. 








*.* The Office of the Societ 
59, 


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AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST, 


Printed by Wittram Crowns, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
incoln’s Inn Fields. | 


[OcroBerR 26, 1833, 


SMouthipy Suppleinweiit of 





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OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


101.1 


september 30, to October 31, 1833. 








LHE COMMERCIAL HISTORY OF A PENNY MAGAZINE.—No. {T. 





WOOD-CUTTING AND TYPE-FOUNDING. 











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[ Virgin and Child - after Raffaelle. ] 


RicHarp DE Bury, Bishop of Durham, who lived more 
than a century before the introduction of the art of 
printing, wrote a treatise, entitled ‘ Philobiblon, or, the 
Love of Books.’ Describing the process by which 
manuscripts were multiplied, he uses the following 
words :—“ Because everything that is serviceable to 
mortals suffers the waste of mortality through lapse of 
time, it is necessary for volumes corroded by age to be 
restored by renovated successors, that perpetuity, repuc- 
nant to the nature of the individual, may be conceded 
to the species. Hence it is that Ecclesiastes signifi- 
cantly says, in his 12th chapter, ‘There is no end of 
making many books.’” ‘The monks, who were princi- 
pally engaged in these services, had probably began to 
weary In their Jaborions occupation in the time of the 
good bishop; for in another place he says, “ the study 
of the monks now-a-days dispenses with emptying bowls, 
not amending books.” The account he gives of the in- 


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dustry of their predecessors shows us, however, that the 
old religious transcribers must have been enducd with 


singular patience and perseverance :—‘‘ Many wrote 


them out with their own hands in the intervals of the 
canonical hours, and gave up the time appointed for 
bodily rest to the fabrication of volumes; those sacred 
treasuries of whose labours, filled with cherubic letters, 
are at this day resplendent in most monasteries.” 

When we compare the multiplication of volumes in 
our own day with the slow productions of the transcribers 
described by Richard de Bury, we may say “ there is 
no end of making many books.” ‘The copiers of manu- 
scripts, indeed, were many, and their labours were in- 
cessant; but the whole hfe of the most industrious 
individual employed in this task would add only a few 
to the number of volumes in the world. With what 
ardour must the recluse have been inspired who resolved 
to set about the transcription of a bible or breviary, or 


3 H 


418 


undertook the greater task even of adding one more to 
the number of copies of some ponderous treatise of 
scholastic divinity, then so much prized and cherished. 
Such a book Erasmus has described: ‘ As for Thomas 
Aquinass ‘ Secunda Secunde,’ no man can carry it 
about, much less get it into his head.” The volume 
thus produced on fair parchment, after the labour of 
years, was covered with immensely thick lids of wood 
and leather, studded with large nails, and curiously 
clasped ; and being deposited on the shelves of the 
monastic library, was kept sacred from all profane eyes. 


“ Laymen,” says Richard de Bury, “to whom it matters 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


~but-of -the great ingenuity of the monks. 


[OctToRER 26, 


not whether they look at a book turned wrong side 
upwards or spread before them in its natural order, are 
altogether unworthy of any communion with books.” 
The monks laboured for themselves alone, without any 
desire to diffuse the knowledge which they strove, and 


properly so, to preserve. 


The ‘ resplendent ” volumes ‘ filled with cherubic 
letters,’ which the author of ‘ Philobiblon’ delights in, 
bore striking marks not only of the persevering mdustry 
Their initial 
letters,—that is,-the letters at the beginning of each 
chapter or section,—were adorned with the most curious 


devices; and oftentines a painting, called an allumina- 
tion, was introduced, “ resplendent” with gold and the 
brightest tints of crimson and azure. But the satisfac- 
tion to be afforded by these efforts of art was confined 
toa few. They were not, like the paintings with which 
churches were subsequently adorned, displayed before 
the people to exalt their devotion. ‘They were unclasped 
only on days of solemnity, by the mitred abbot or the 
prior; and then conveyed, like precious jewels, to the 
obscurity of their worm-eaten and dusty cases. 

Very early in the fifteenth century,—somewhere 
between 1400 and 1480,—an art was either discovered 
or Introduced in Europe, which eventually conducted to 
the more important art of priuting from moveable types. 
Lhe invention to which we allude was that of taking 
iNpressions from lines cut in relief on blocks of wood. 
it is unnecessary for us here to enter into the details of 
a long controversy amonest antiquaries, as to whether 


‘engraving in wood was not practised in Italy a century 


earlier ;—nor will it be more desirable for us to “carry 
our readers through the multifarious evidence of the 
Asiatic origin of this art. It is enough-for us to state, 
that it is established beyond doubt that, in the first 
quarter of the fifteenth century, engraving on wood was 
applied to the multiplication of copies of designs which 
were in deinand amonest the people of Italy and Ger- 
many. ‘This demand, which very soon called into exist- 
ence a considerable number of workmen, was addressed 
to two objects of a very opposite character,—books of 
devotion, and playing-cards. The representations of 
saints and of scriptural histories, which the limners in 
the monasteries had for several centuries been painting 
in their missals and bibles, were copied in outline; and 
being divested of their brilliant colours and rich gilding, 
presented figures exceedingly rade in their want of pro- 
portion, and grotesque in their constrained and viclent 





1833.] 


attitudes. But they were nevertheless highly popular ; 
and as the pictures were accompanied with a few sen- 
tences from Scripture, they probably supplied the first 
inducement to the laity to learn to read, and thus 
prepared the way for that diffusion of knowledge which 
was.to accompany the invention of printing from move- 
able types. Again, for somewhat more than a century 
preceding the period of which we are speaking *, playine- 
cards had become the common amusement of the noble 
and wealthy. ‘The cards, like the missals, called forth 
the art of the limner; and the king, the knight, and the 
knave (the characters of the early cards), were rich with 
crimson and purple, oftentimes painted on a golden 
ground. Gambling, like many other vices and follies, 
descends from the great to those below them in the 
social scale; and it is easy, therefore, to conceive that the 
followers of courts and of camps, and the artisans and 
dealers in the towns, seeing the amusement which their 
superiors derived from these painted bits of paper or 
parchment, would be anxious to possess the same means of 
excitement in their hours of idleness. ‘The art of wood- 
engraving was ready to supply the extended demand for 
playing-cards. The outline of the fieure was cut in 
relief upon a block; and the coloured parts were after- 
wards added by the pencil. In Mr. Singer’s elaborate 
and interesting work, there are many fac-similes of the 
early cards. We subjoin a specimen of the Knave: 
of Bells :— 





* dad « “aaoe ee —2s 3 2 — wr a ee eee hp ae Ss ee Se Seer ek 


[Knave of Beils.] 


It appears that the impressions of the engraved cards, 
as well as of most of the earlier block-prints, were taken 
off by friction, This is the mode by which, even at 
the present day, wood-engravers take off the specimen 
impressions of their works, called proofs. The Chinese 
produce their block-books in a similar manner, without 
the aid of a press. | 

In the collection of Earl Spenser there is a very 
curious print from a  wood-block, representing St. 
Christopher carrying the infant Saviour. This print 
bears the date 1423. It is probably not the earliest 
specimen of the art; but it is the earliest undoubted 
document which determines with precision the period 
When wood-engraving was geuerally applied to objects 
of devotion. In a very few years from the date of this 
print, the art was carried onward, as we have mentioned, 
to a more important object,—that of producing a book of 
popular instruction. ‘I'he Bible, as is well known, could 

* This is much earlier than the date usually assigned to the intro- 
duction of Plaving Cards; but there is abundant proof that they 
were used in Italy, Spain, and Germany, for at least a century 
preceding the reign of Charles VI. of France. 
“Researches into the History of Playing Cards. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. é 


‘only at this time be obtained in manuscript, at 


See Singer’s | ' a ss an ' 
‘ the Historie Veteris et Novi Testamenti’ just given, By 


19 


& Very 
heavy cost;, such as would purchase a considerable 
estate in these days. It was thought that a selection of 
subjects from the Bible, with appropriate texts, both 
engraved upon wood, might be acceptable to the com- 
mon people. Such a book was produced somewhere 
between the year 1430 and 1450, and was called ‘ Biblia 
Pauperum,—the Bible of the Poor. This very rare 
book consists of forty leaves of small folio, (about the 
size of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’) each of which coutains 
a cut in wood, with extracts from the Scriptures, and 
other illustrative sentences. It was followed by others 
of a similar character, the most remarkable of which is 
called ‘ Speculum Salutis,—the Mirror of Salvation. 
In this performance the explanations of the text are 
much fuller than in the ‘Biblia Pauperum;’ and it is 
remarkable that, in one of the editions, part of the text 
is Obviously printed from blocks, and part from move- 
able-types. In addition to these works, wooden blocks 
were also used to print small manuals of grammar, 
called Donatuses, which were used in schools. We 
subjoin a fac-simile of a wood-cut from one of the carly 
block-books. 





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[The Wise Men‘s Offering. ] 


In the course of this Number we shall see how the art 
of engraving on wood, and the production of block-books, 
eradually merged into the art of printing from moveable 
types. From that time wood-cuts became a secondary 
part of books, used, indeed, very often by the early 
printers, but byno means forming an indispensable branch 
of typography. Imitating the manuscript books, the first 
printers chiefly employed the wood-engraver upon initial 
letters; and sometimes the pages of their works were snr- 
rounded by borders, which contained white lines or sprigs 
of foliage upon a black ground. If a figure, or group of 
figures, was introduced, little more than the outline was 
first attempted, as will be seen in the fac-simile from 


oi 2 


420 


degrees, however, endeavours were made to represent 
eradations of shadow; and a few light hatchings, or 
white dots, were employed. All cross-hatchingss, such 
as Characterize a line engraving upon metal, were care- 
filly avoided by the early wood-cutters, on account of 
the difficulty in the process. Mr. Ottley, in his ‘ History 
of Engraving,’ says that an engraver on wood, of the 
name of Wohlgemuth, (avho flourished at Nuremburg 
about 1480,) “ perceived that, though difficult, this was 
not impossible ;” and, in the cuts of the *‘ Nuremburg 
Chronicle,’ “a successful attempt was first made to 
imitate the bold hatchings of a pen-drawing.” Albert 
Durer, an artist of extraordinary talent, became the 
pupil of Wohlgemuth ; and by him, and afterwards by 
Holbein, wood-engraving was carried to a_ perfection 
which it subsequéntly lost till its revival in our own 
country, by Bewick. Jor more than a century and a 
half after the invention of printing in England, as well 
as in France, Holland and Germany, wood-cuts were 
profusely employed in the illustration of books. Those 
who have seen copies of the original editions of those 
very popular English works, ‘ Hollingshed’s Chronicles ’ 
and ‘ Fox’s Martyrs,’ will perceive how attractive and 
reaily instructive ‘wood-cuts were considered in thie 
sixteenth and early in the seventeenth century. . Wood- 
cuts are indeed essentially applicable to the general 
diffusion of knowledge; and the early printers were as 
much engaged in that great task as we of the present 
day, who are anxions to carry information into the 
dwellings of the peasant and the artisan, and to excite 
the curiosity of those who have been unaccustomed to 
think upon any subject connected with art and literature. 
Lhe early printers had to seek for their most numerous 
class of customers among the laity, (persons not of the 
religious profession,) who, we have seen, were considered 
unworthy of the perusal of the monastic manuscripts. 
These, undoubtedly, were for a long time surrounded 
with every difficulty in the acquisition of knowledge. 
Many, even of the wealthier classes, were unable to 
read their own language ; few understood the learned 
Janguages, in which the larger number of books were 
printed; and the greater part required some excite- 
ment to their curiosity before they seriously applied 
themselves to the perusal of a book, even if they possessed 
the ability. ‘The liberal introduction of wood-cuts fur- 
nished a great attraction. After the first expenses of the 
drawing and engraving were incurred, there was ho 
separate cost in taking off the impressions of the cuts ;— 
they were executed by the typographical process, and 
thus formed an integral portion of the books. Gradually, 
however, as the original readers of books,—namely, the 
nobility and other possessors of property in land, and a 
few of the wealthier of the mercantile class,—desired a 
species of embellishment more costly than wood-cuts, 
though in many cases not superior, copper-plate prints 
began to be introduced into printed works. Impressions 
of these prints were obtained by a process totally dif- 
ferent from the typographical art; so that they consti- 
tuted, in every respect, an additional expense in the 
production of a book. Sir John Harrington’s translation 
of ‘ Orlando Furioso’ was the first Enelish work in 
which copper-plates were used; this was printed in 
1690. From this time till the latter part of the eighteenth 
century, the use of wood-cuts gradually declined in 
Ikugland. ‘The rudest illustrations, as rude as those of the 
‘Biblia Pauperum,’ were sometimes found in Primers 
and Spelling-books; but as a high branch of art wood- 
engraving was entirely lost till the appearance of Bewick, 
a most ingenious artist,. who practised at Newcastle 
upon ‘Lyne. His cuts of quadrupeds and birds are as 
remarkable for their force and delicacy of execution as 
engravings, as for the vigour and accuracy with which 
he drew them; and his humorous vignettes possess a 


truth of character which has been seldom equalled. The | 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[OcToBER 26, 


considerable excellence ; but, til! within a very few years, 
the art was not applied to its legitimate purpose. It is 
essentially the art of design which is naturally associated 
with cheap and rapid printing. The wood-engrayers who 
were contemporary with, or immediately succeeded, 
Bewick, were generally employed in the illustration of 
the most costly works; and the introduction of 
wood-cuts often rendered the printing of the other por- 
tions of the book so expensive, that a volume thus em- 
bellished was as costly as if the designs had been printed 
separately from metal plates. ‘The reason was this :— 
from the mode in which these engravers worked, the 
most extraordinary care was required in printing their 
performances; and the wood-cuts being included in the 
same page and sheet with the text, if only a single 
wood-cut occurred in a sheet, the attention which that 
demanded from’ the pressman prevented the rapid work- 
ing-off of the other pages. ‘This we shall explain more 
fully when we come to treat of the press and printing- 
machine. It may be sufficient now to state that as, by 
the printing-machine, the ink is uniformly applied to 
wood-cuts as well as types, and as the cylindrical pressure 
of the macline is also uniform, no peculiar care of the 
superintendent can remedy defects or heighten beauties 
in the work of the engraver. He must, therefore, give 
his shadows the requisite force, and his liehts the ne- 
cessary clearness, when he completes his work. No 
subsequent care can alter its appearance. He, there- 
fore, adapts his performance to the circumstances depen- 
dent upon rapid printing ;—and it is not too much to 
say that these circumstances, principally exhibited and 
called forth by the great demand for the ‘ Penny Maga- 
Zine, have completely changed the character of the art of 
wood-engraving; and have rendered it peculiarly and 
essentially that branch of engraving which is applicable 
to cheap publications. 

We may illustrate these remarks by referring to the 
cut at the head of this Number. It has been engraved 
as a specimen of his art, by Mr. Jackson,—one of the 
best wood-cutters of our day; who, in conjunction with 
Messrs. Sly and Wilson, has principally executed the 
cuts of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ This wood-cut is 
copied from one of the finest line-engravings of Raf- 
faelle Morghen, and furnishes a true notion of the 
bold style of cross-hatching which that ereat artist 
adopted. It must be evident that these cross-lines are 
inuch more difficult to produce in wood than in copper 
or steel. In metal, the lines to be shown in the linpres- 
sion are cut away in the plate; in wood they are left 
standing, and the white between the lines is cut away. 
Of course it is much more laborious to cut away the 
minute white spaces formed by the imtersections of the 
lines, than to follow with the eraver the lines themselves. 
A writer in Brewster’s ‘ Edinburgh Encyclopedia,’ 
speaking of this peculiarity of the fine old wood-en- 
eravers, says, “In looking at the works of the old 
German artists, from the time of Albert Durer down to 
Christopher Jegher, we are surprised at the frequent 
occurrence and freedom of execution of the dark cross- 
hatching's,—an operation which, by the common process 
of cutting away the interstices, could not be done but 
with the greatest labour, and certainly without the free- 
dom which these artists have displayed.” The writer 
then goes on to suggest that these hatchings were not 
done by the tool, but corroded by some chemical process. 
Now, in the cut of the Madonna, no chemical pracess 
is used; and we think there is no want of freedom. 
Lhe only secret in the matter is, that the artist is paid 
liberally for the great labour of the performance; and 
the means of paying him liberally are afforded by the 
circumstance that two hundred thousand purchasers 
co-operate to obtain a fine specimen of his art. By the 
adaptation of wood-engraving to the necessities of rapid 
printing, the impressions of a cut lke this can be pro- 





success of Bewick created several artists in wood, of |-duced (and we think it will bear comparisen with many 


1833.] 


specimeus of wood-engraving printed with the most 
expensive care) at the rate of eight hundred an hour or 
ten thousand a day; and thus a fine specimen of art 


ean be placed within the reach of thousands, instead of 


being coufined to the cabinets of a very few, as the print 
of Raffaelle Morghen is, from which it is copied. 

It may be expected that we should add a short de- 
scription of the process of engraving on wood. 

In a ‘ Book of ‘Trades,’ published at Frankfort, in 
1654, which was illustrated by a number of spirited 
wood-cuts from the designs of Jost Ammon, there is a 
representation of the formschneider or wood-eutter. He 
sits at a table lioldine the block in his left hand, upon 
which he is cutting with a small graver in his right. 
Another gvaver, anda sort of googe or chisel ies upon 
the table. If we enter the work-room of a wood-engraver 
of the present day, we shall find the instruments by 
which he is surrounded nearly as few and as simple. 
His block rests upon a flat circular leather cushion filled 
with sand; and this so completely answers the purpose 
of holding the block firmly, and yet allowing it to be 
moved in every direction, that it is expressively called 
the wood-cutter’s third hand. His cutting instruments 
are of three sorts: the first, which is called a graver, 
is a lozenge-shaped tool, used for outlines and fine 
tints; the second, called a scauper, which presents a 
triangular point and edges, is used for deeper and bolder 
work; and the third, which is a flat tool or chisel, 
is employed in cutting away those parts of the block 
Which -are to be left entirely light. There are several 
varieties of size in these tools, but it is understood that 
the best artists employ the fewest tools. Upon the 
block, which presents a perfectly smooth surface, the 
desien has previously been drawn, in most cases with 
a black-lead pencil, by a draughtsman, who is generally 
an artist distinct from the wood-engraver. It is the 
business of the cutter, as we have before mentioned, to 
leave all the lines upon the block which the draughtsman 
has traeed with his pencil; and to do this, he of course 
cuts away all the parts which form the spaces between 
the various lines of the drawing. The lines thus stand 
up, as it is called, in relief; and when ink is applied to 
them by the printer, in the same way as he applies it to 
his metal types, they transfer the ink to the paper placed 
over them upon being subjected to an adequate pres- 
sure. We should mention that in this, as in every other 
species of engraving, the drawing upon the wood is a, 
reverse of the object copied, in the same way as a mirror 
shows the reverse of the human countenance; when the 
impression is taken from the engraving, the object 1s 
correctly represented, in the same way as the reflection 
of any object in a second mirror placed opposite the first 
would also give it correctly. ‘The process we have 
alluded to, by which the art of wood-engraving is 
adapted to the uniform printing effected by the revolving 
cylinder of a machine, consists in very much lowering 
the general surface of the wood wherever light tints are 
required to be produced. For example, the thigh of the 
infant in the wood-cut of the Madonna at the head of 
this paper, exhibits a number of faint lines, which are 
gradually lost in complete light. ‘This is effected by 
scooping out the wood like a shelving trench from the 
edye of the shadow, and afterwards engraving the 
hatched lines upon the lowered surface. In a wood-cut 
executed ten years ago, the management of this effect 
would have been left to the printer; who, with great care 
and labour, would have contrived, by the adjustment of 
a number of small pieces of paper between the stretched 
parchinent and blanket that eovered the block during 
the impression from the common hand-press, to give a 
ereater foree to the bearing upon the shadows, while the 
liohts were of course eqtally relieved from the pressure. 
By the mode of lowering the lights upon the block itself, 


the artist is sure that, with common care, every lmpres- | 


sion of his performance will be equally perfect. The 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 491 


process being a new one is, to a certain degree, imper- 
fectly understood; but the creat improvement which has 
progressively taken place in the appearance of the wood- 
cuts of the ‘ Peuny Magazine,’ is the best proof that a 
new principle has been introduced in wood-eneravine, 
which, in time, will render a very high perfection per- 
fectly compatible with that extreme cheapness of works 
in which wood-cuts are introduced, which is insured by 
the application of printing by machinery to the supply, 
with certainty and rapidity, of a large body of purchasers, 
The wood which is used for the purpose of engraving 
is that of the box-tree. A considerable quantity of box 
is imported ito this country, as the tree with us scarcely 
ever reaches a sufficient size. ‘The best logs are shipped 
from Odessa, but very few are adapted for the purpose 
of the wood-engraver, and the inferior qualities are 
chiefly used for turnery. The blocks for engraving are 
cut directly across the grain, so that not many trees 
furnish pieces sufficiently large for the wood-cuts which 
we are in the habit of using, and in that case two or 
even three smaller pieces are fitted together with great 
exactness. ‘T’he price of box for engravers has advanced 
considerably within the last year or two, owing, of 
course, to the increased demand. Some idea may be 
formed of this increase from the fact, that some tweniy 
years since there were not more than about twelve work- 
ing wood-engravers in London; there are now con- 
siderably more than a hundred, The encouragemeut 
afforded to this class of artists by works selling at a very 
cheap rate may be estimated, when we state that the 
wood-cuts of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ cost about £2000 
per annum. ‘The impulse which ‘the extension of the 
demand for reading has communicated to the busiuess 
of wood-cutting in England has not yet been propor-_ 
tionately felt on the Continent. We ourselves supply metal 
casts to Franee, Germany, and Russia, not only to assist 
those countries in producing works similar to the ‘ Penny 
Magazine’ at a cheap: rate, but because, however ex- 
cellent ’rance and Germany may be in other branches 
of engraving, they have at present scarcely any wood- 
culters amongst them. This is a singular contrast to 
the state of things in Germany soon after the invention 
of printing, when the wood-cutters, or formschneiders, 
were a body numerous enough to be incorporated distinct 
from the briefmahlers, or painters of cards and images. 


The early history of wood-engraving, of which we 
have given a slight outline, clearly points out the suc- 
cessive steps in the perfection of the art of printing. 
The art of multiplying copies of drawings existed in 
Iiurope very early in the fifteenth century. It might 
have originated here, or it might have been copied ftom 
the Chinese ; for Mareo Polo, nearly a century earlier, 
had seen the paper-money of this people, on which “ thie 
principal officer, deputed by the cham, smears with cin- 
nabar the seal consigned to him, and imprints it upon 
the money, so that the figure of the seal, coloured in 
cinnabar, remains impressed upon it*.”? However this 
may be, the use of carved blocks for the multiplication of 
copies of playing-cards and devotional pictures gave 
birth to a principle which has effected, and is still 
effecting, the most important changes in the world. 
These devotioual pictures had short legends or texts 
attached to them; and when a text had to be printed, it 
wus engraved iu a solid piece as well as the picture. 
The first person who seized upon the idea that the text 
or legend might be composed of separate letters capable 
of re-arrangement after the impressions were taken off, 
so as to be applied, without new cutting, to other texts 
and legends, had secured the principle upon which the 
printing art was to depend. It was easy to extend the 
principle from a few lines to a whole page, and from 
one page to many, so as to form a book; but then 


* « Navigation et Viaggi Raccolto da Ramussio.’ Tome ii. fol. 


29+ quoted in Singer, page 89, 


A22 


were seen the great labour and expense of cutting so 
many separate letters upon small pieces of wood or 
metal, and another step was required to be made 
before the principle was thoroughly worked out, ‘This 
step consisted in the ready multiplication of the separate 
letters by casting metal in moulds. All these gradations 
were undoubtedly the result of long and patient experi- 
ments carried on by several individuals, who each saw 
the importance of the notion they were labouring to 
work out. It is this circumstance which has given rise 
to interminable controversies as to the inventors of 
printing, some claiming the honour for Coster of Haar- 
lem, and some for Gutenburg of Mentz ; and, as is usual 
in all such disputes, it was represented that the man to 
whom public opinion had assigned the credit of the in- 
vention had stolen it from another, who, as is also usual 
in these cases, thought of it ina dream, or received it 
by some other mysterious revelation. Those who desire 
to make themselves acquainted with the conflicting 
evidence on the origin of printing, will find ample ac- 
counts in ‘ Hansard’s Typographia,’ ‘ Singer on Playing 
Cards,’ ‘ Bowyer's Origin of Printing, ‘ Heinecken, Idée 
d’Estampes, Ottley’s ‘ History of Engraving,’ and many 
other works; most of which in our opinion leave the 
matter quite as uncertain as many other subjects of anti- 
quarian dispute, such as the birth-place of Homer, the 
site of Troy, the authenticity of Ossian, or the author- 
ship of Junius. Our readers will probably be satisfied 
with the account of the invention given by an ancient 
German chronicler of the name of Trithemius, who ap- 
pears to have personally known one of the three persons, 
who, as far-as we may judge from the works which they 
produced, seem to have the best title to be called the 
inventors of printing :— 

“ At this time, in the city of Mentz on the Rhine 
in Germany, and not in Italy, as some have errone- 
ously written, that wonderful and then unheard-of 
art of printing and characterizing books was invented 
aud devised by Jolin Gutenberger, a citizen of Mentz, 
who, havine expended almost the whole of his property in 
the invention of this art, and on account of the difficul- 
ties which he experienced on all sides, was about to 
abandon it altogether; when, by the advice, and through 
the means, of John Faust, likewise a citizen of Mentz, 
he succeeded in bringing it to perfection. At first they 
formed (Z.e., eneraved) the characters or letters in written 
order on blocks of wood, and in this manner they printed 
the vocabulary called a ‘ Catholicon.’ But with these 
forms (or blocks) they could print nothing else, because 
the characters could not be transposed in these tablets, 
but were engraved thereon, as we have said. ‘T’o this 
invention succeeded a more subtle one, for they found 
out the means of cutting the forms of all the letters of 
the alphabet, which they called matrices, from which 
again they cast characters of copper or tin of sufficient 
hardness to resist the necessary pressure, which they had 
before engraved by hand. And truly, as I learned thirty 
years since from Peter Opilio (Schoetfer) de Gernsheim, 
citizen of Meutz, who was the son-in-law of the first in- 
ventor of this art, great difficulties were experienced after 
the first invention of this art of printing, for in printing 
the Bible, before they had completed the third quaternion 
(or gathering of four sheets), 4000 florins were expended. 
This Peter Schoeffer, whom we have above mentioned, 
first servant and afterwards son-in-law to the first in- 
ventor, John Faust, as we have said, an ingenious and 
Sagacious man, discovered the more easy method of 
casting the types, and thus the art was reduced to the 
complete state in which it now is. These three kept 
this method of printing secret for some time;until it was 
divulged by some of their workmen, without whose aid 
this art could not have been exercised; it was first 
developed at Strasboure, and soon becaine’ known to 
other nations. And thus much of the admirable and 
subtle art of printing may suffice--the first inventors 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[OcrobER 26, 


were citizens of Mentz. These three first inventors of 
printing (videlicet), John Gutenberger, John Fust, and 
Peter Schoeffer his son-in-law, lived at Mentz, in the 
house called Zum Jungen, which has ever since been 
called the Printing Office *.” 

The invention of Schoeffer, which, whatever might 
have been its first mechanical imperfections, undoubtedly 
completed the principle of printing, is more particularly 
described in an early document, which is given in several 
learned works on typography, as proceeding from a 
relation of I’ust. It is as follows:—* Peter Schoeffer 
of Gernsheim, perceiving his master Fust’s design, and 
being himself ardently desirous to improve the art, found 
out (by the good providence of God) the method of 
cutting (¢ncidendi) the characters in a matrix, that the 
letters might each be singly cast, instead of being cut. 
He privately cut matrixes for the whole alphabet; and, 
when he showed his master the letters cut from these 
matnxes, ust was so pleased with the contrivance, that 
he promised Peter to give him his only daughter Chris- 
tina in marriage ; a promise which he soon after per- 
formed. But there were as many difficulties at first 
with these letters, as there had been before with wooden 
ones; the metal being too soft to support the force of 
the impression: but this defect was soon remedied by 
mixing the metal with a substance which sufficiently 
hardened itt.” Jolin Schoeffer, the sou of Peter, who 
was also a printer, confirms this account, adding, 
‘¢ Fust and Schoeffer concealed this new improvement 
by administering an oath of secrecy to all whom they 
intrusted, till the year 1462, when, by the dispersion of 
their servants into different countries, at the sacking of 
Mentz, by the Archbishop Adolphus, the invention was 
publicly divulged.” 

The original type was very similar to that which is still 
used most generally in German books. ‘This is called the 
Gothic character, while the ordinary type which we employ 
is known as Roman. It derived that name from the 
first printers who used it, namely, Sweynheim and Pan- 
nartz, who, in 1467, executed in this type an edition of 
Cicero’s ‘ Epistole Familiares,’ at their office in Rome. 
The Italic type was the invention of Aldus Manutius, the 
first of a celebrated family of printers, who employed it not 
as we do very sparingly in quotations, but in the execution. 
of a series of small classical works intended for geueral 
perusal. ‘The object which he had in view was the saving 
of space, as the Italic letters, from their peculianty of 
form, are thinner than the Roman or the Gothic. It is 
said, that in this character Aldus attempted an imitation 
of the hand-writing of the celebrated poet, Petrarch. 
His printing: office was established at Venice, in 1499. 

The original attempts to preserve the whole process of 
printing a secret, and which, no doubt, continued for a 
long time under that state of things when every trade 
was denominated a mystery, led to the union of the 
letter-founder and the printer. The division of labour 
(the progress of which principle is at all times slow) 
was little understood at that period, when the weaver 
inanufactured his own loom, and the farmer constructed 
his own rude plough. Schoeffer, one of the first Ger- 
man printers, was also the first letter-tounder ; and he 
was, moreover, a book-binder. ‘The general term print- 
ing originally included every process necessary for the 
production of a book, from cutting the punch by which 
the matrix is sunk, to stamping the leather which 
covered the ponderous wooden lids of the treasured folio, 

The Enelish priuters, from Caxton to John Day, 
(who, in the year 1567, published a book of antiquities, 
in which he says that the Saxon characters were cut by 
himself,) were all letter-founders. The trades, however, 
after this beoan te be separated, for we fiud a decree of 
the Star Chamber, in 1637, by which it is ordered that 

* «'Tiithemii Annales Monasterli Hirsaugensis.’ "Translated in 
Sluger. 


+ Bowyer’s ‘ Origin of Printing, p. 91. 


1833.] 


there shall be four founders of letters for the kingdom, 
and no more. ‘The provisions of this absurd and op- 
pressive decree were recognized in an act of 14th 
Charles II., (1674,) which again restrained the number 
of master-founders to four; and, by the same act, the 
number of printers was limited to twenty. This, how- 
ever, was only a provisional act, which appears to have 
been impossible of execution, like all other enactments 
which are directly opposed to the spirit of an age. The 
demand for knowledge had become so general that four 
founders and twenty printers were quite inadequate to 
the supply, whatever might be the opinion of Charles IT. 
and his arbitrary court. The sunply, therefore, went on. 
In avery curious book, written by Joseph Moxon, a 
mathematical-instrument maker, who also applied his 
mechanical knowledge to the art of letter-cutting, we are 
informed that, in 1686, “ the number of founders and 
printers were grown very many, insomuch that, for the 
more easy management of typography, the operators had 
found it necessary to divide it into the several trades of 
the master-printer, the letter-cutter, the letter-caster, the 
letter-dresser, the compositor, the corrector, the press- 
man, the ink-maker, besides several other trades which 
they take into their assistance, as the smith, the joiner, 
&c.” Such a division of labour indicates the natural 
progress of an art towards perfection, and is indeed in 
itself a cause of that perfection. Moxon says that 
letter-cntting was a handy-work at that time, kept so 
concealed among the artificers of it, that he could not 
learn any one had taught it any other. Moxon himself; 
however, laid down mathematical rules for the formation 


of letters, bunt he does not appear to have attempted any | 


improvement in their shape. In the reien of Anne we 
imported most of our type from Ffolland, where the 
letter-founders had succeeded in producing much more 
beautiful characters. At leneth, however, in 1720, 
William Caslon, an @neraver of eun-locks and barrels 

> S ; 
having the credit of being a most ingenious artist, was em- 
ployed by the ‘ Society for Promoting Christian Know- 


ledge’ to cut the punches for a fount of Arabic. Wis suc- | 


cess led him to enter into the business ofa letter-founder, 
in which undertaking he was assisted by Bowyer, the 
celebrated printer. in avery few years Caslon had ren- 


dered the Einglish types superior to any in Europe ; when | 


the importation of foreigi types ceased, and the founts of 
this ingenious founder became in demand on the Con- 
tinent. ‘Phe Caslon foundry is. still continued by a de- 
scendant of the same name, with undiminished reputation. 


The different sizes of types which are cast in this | 


eonntry are very considerable, varying from the smallest 
called diamond, of which 205 lines are contained in a foot, 
to those large ietters which we see employed in placards, 
of which some single letters are three or even four inches 
hich. 
chiefly printed,—that is, the type which the reader is now 
perusing,—is called Lone Primer, and this type stands 
mid-way between the jJargest and the smailest ever used 
in printing books. We give a list of the names of these 
letters, with a scale which expresses their proportions, 
in the number of lines which each occupies in a foot :— 


Double Pica 2 = 412 | Bourgeois. . . 102} 

emeeon sees. 442, Brevier . . . 1124 

Seeeterimier. 5. . Sli} Minion . . . 128 

Mmelieh =. lw CU. 6G CU] Nonpareil. =... O148 

ae. ., . . © Re MPomm . . . . 178 

Small Picn . . . 63 | Biamond. . . 205 
89 


Loug Primer. . . 
It is considered that the early printers and_ type- 
founders were very imperfectly acquainted with the pro- 
per composition of metal to be used. luead, as being 
the niost flexible metal, was principally employed ; but 
then it was too-soft for durability, and a portion of iron 
was consequently added. Regulus of antimony is now 
added to the lead, instead of iron. ‘The smallest-sized 
types requiring the hardest metal, the alloy for these is 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The type in which the ‘ Penny Magazine’ is | 


his is held in its place by a metal spring, 


423 


twenty-five parts of the regulus of antimony to seventy- 
five parts of lead; the proportions are varied for the 
larger sizes, so that in some only fifteen parts of anti- 
mony are used to eighty-five of lead. 

We have stated that the early printers were their own 
letter-founders. In their case they nnited the two trades, 
because the division of labour was imperfect. When 
an art becomes very much advanced, so as to allow one 
individual to employ his capital upon the largest scale, 
we sometimes find several distinct branches of trade 
carricd on under the same roof. Thus in some large 
cotton factories we have the spinning and weaving 
processes united in the same establishment. It is not 
that the division of labour is not perfect in each depart- 
ment, but that there are commercial advantages which 
result from uniting two or more branches of one business. 
In this way, we find the business of type-founding: 
carried on at the present day in ‘one of the largest 
printing establishments in London,—that of Mr. Clowes, 
in Duke Street, Stamford Street,—the office where the 
‘Penny Magazine’ and ‘ Cyclopzedia’ are printed. As we 
shall have to describe the subsequent processes of printing 
as practised in this office, it may be convenient to describe 
the practice of type-founding as it may be here seen. 

Upon entering the Foundry, the superintendent, or 
overseer, will exhibit to the visitor a Punch and a Ma- 
trix. ‘Lhe punch is of hardened steel, and exhibits upon 
its face a single letter, formed by hammering down the 
holluws, and filing up the edges, when the metal was in 
a softened state. With this tool, an impression is struck 
into a piece of copper, about one inch and a quarter loue, 
one-eighth of an inch deep, and wide in proportion to the 
size of the type to be cast. This is the matrix ; which, 
after the die is sunk, is filed up to ensure the cast taken 
from it to be of the requisite depth, which process is 
called justifying. Jt will be desirable that the visitor 


| should also inspect the Mould. This is a most ingenious 


little iustrument, represented in the following wood-cut: 

a Lhe mould is composed 
of two parts. The exter- 
nal surface is of wood ; 
the internal of steel. At 
the top, as will be seen 
by the cut, is a shelving 
orifice, into which the 
metal is poured. ‘The 
2 ay A Space within 1s as true as 
Sey iiitt if it had been hollowed 
4, Out of a single piece of 
i, Steel; but nevertheless it 
i is formed by the intimate 
union of the two parts of 
i] the mould, each part 
ly forming two of the four 
sides of the letter. It is 
not a matter of difficult 
adjustment to bring these 
sides together; it is the 
overation only of an in- 
stant. At the bottom of 
the orifice, is the matrix. 
represented 
at the lower part of the cut; and every letter that is 
cast can only be loosened from the matrix by removing 
the pressure of the spring. In the larger cut at the end 
of this article, there is a representation of three furnaces, 
At the first, which is unoccupied, may be seen the little 
table at which the founder works, and the pot out of 
which he dips the heated metal with a very small ladle. 
At the second furnace the workman is shown at the mo- 
ment after he has poured the metal into the mould. 
And at the third, the other workman is represented in 
the aet of separating the two parts of the mould, and 
picking out the letter from the lower half, with the 
heok shown at the top edge of the other half. 


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the mould, immediately under 


424 


Having made himself acquainted with the construction 
of the mould, and the mode by which the matrix 1s 
adjusted, the visitor proceeds into the foundry. His 
attention is naturally drawn to the extraordinary move- 
ment with which the founder performs the operation of 
casting. Having poured inthe metal with his right hand, 
and returned the ladle to the melting-pot, he throws up 
his left hand, which holds the mould, above his head, 
with a sudden jerk, supporting it with his right hand. 
It is this movement which forces the metal into all 
the interstices of the matrix; and without the move- 
ment the metal, especially in the smaller types, would 
not reach the bottom of the mould, for it could not 
force out the air by its specific gravity alone, But 
the observer will be equally astonished by the preci- 
sion, as well as the rapidity of the whole operation, of 
pouring in the metal, throwing up the mould, unclosing 
it, and removing the pressure of the spring, picking out 
the cast letter, closing the mould again, and re-applying 
the spring to be ready for repeating the whole act. All 
these operations do not occupy the eighth of a minute, 
for the average number of letters cast in an hour is five 
hundred. We should observe, that a considerable piece 
of metal remains attached to the end of the type when it 
is turned out of the mould; also, that the mould is so 
constructed that it forms what is called a nick, or nicks, 
on the lower edge of the letter, by which the printer at 
once sees the right way to place it without looking at 
the face. 

From the table of the caster the heap of types cast 1s 
from time to time removed by a boy to another table. It 
is his business to break off the superfluous metal; and this 
he does with such rapidity that the mode in which he 
operates can scarcely be followed by the eye. Some boys 
have been known to break off 5000 in an hour; the 
average number is 2000. ‘This rapidity is the more 


remarkable, as the boy must seize the type, not upon the | 





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flat surface, but upon its edges, or he would otherwise 
break or bend it. 

From the breaking-off boy the types are removed to the 
rubber. In the wood-cut this workman is represented 
seated in the centre. A round grit-stone is before him, 
upon which is a heap of types. ‘The fore and middle 
fingers of his right hand are armed with a piece of tarred 
leather; and he passes each side (not the edges) of the 
type smartly over the stone, turning it, of course, in the 
movement. ‘This, again, is an example of wonderful 
rapidity ; 2000 types are thus rubbed in an hour. 

From the rubber the heap is conveyed to a boy whose 
business is to set up the types in lines, in a long shallow 
frame. ‘The face of each must be uppermost, and the 
nicks outward. The rate at which this boy works is the 
same as the rubber. 

When the types are once set up in lines, they are 
never again deranged till they are given out to be used by 
the printer. The long frame, filled with a single line of 
type, is removed to the dresser. _ By the application of 
other frames, he is enabled to dress, or polish them, on 
each edge; and, turning them with the face downwards, to 
channel-cut with a plane a groove in the bottom, so that 
they will stand steadily. 1t will be at once understood 
how necessary it is that every letter should be perfectly 
square and true, when it is considered that if they were 
not of uniform height the impression could not be even ; 
and that if there were the least deviation from a re- 
cular form, it would be quite impossible that, when 
200,000 single letters are combined, as in one side of the 
‘Times’ newspaper, they should hold together as they 
do, when wedged up, as securely as if that side were 
composed of one solid piece of metal. 

Each letter being tied up in lines of convenient Jength, 
the proportionate numbers of each variety, small letters, 
points, capitals, small capitals, and figures, are selected ; 
and the fount is ready for delivery to the printer. 


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i eee 
*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL'‘EAST. 

Printed by Witutam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





NNY MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. { NoveMBER 2, 1833, 


102.] 








A ROMAN HORSE-RACE. 


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[ Horses preparing to Start. ] 


Horse-racinc forms one of the principal amusements 
of the carneval at Rome. The common people, perhaps, 
do not take so much delight in any other pastime of that 
cay season, A Roman horse-race is, however, a very 
different thing from an English one. Instead of a con- 
test in which the skill and boldness of man are as much 
to be admired as the speed and vigour of the animal he 
rides, the Roman course presents nothing but the horse 
which runs without any rider. It 1s not, however, left 
Vou. IL. 


entirely to its own spirit and emulation; if it were, the 


sieht would be more interesting, as showing the natural 
character, of the animal: but it is started by noise, and 
coaded on by contrivances quite as artificial as the whip 
and spur of our jockeys. = 

The barberi, (barbs—so called, perhaps, because the 
first horses thus employed were of the Barbary breed,) 
when brought to the starting-post, are gaily ornamented 


sin the front of the head, and sometimes down the neck, 


mel 


426 


with plumes of peacock and other feathers, To a girth 
which goes round the body of each, are attached several 
loose straps which have at their ends small balls of lead 
from which issue sharp steel points,—the motion imparted 
to these straps by the animals’ running keeps up a conti- 
nual spurring on their flanks and bellies. Sheets of 
thin tin, stiff paper or some other substance that will 
make a rustling or rattling noise when agitated, are also 
fastened on the horses’ backs. 

The last mentioned articles serve to startle and alarm 
them, as if the prickly leaden balls were not excitement 
enough. The rearing, kicking, pawing, and snorting 
they make, when thus equipped, may be easily conceived. 
The most interesting part of the sight 1s that represented 
in our engraving, when they are just about to start. A 
very strong rope, secured by a machine on each side, is 
drawn across the street of the Corso, and up to this each 
man tries to bring his horse, holding it in, with all his 
might, by the head. The Trasteverini, and many of the 
peasantry in the neighbourhood of Rome, are remarkably 
fine, muscular men; and as they generally go to work 
with their arms and necks bare, and as they have fre- 
quently to maintain a strn¢gle of downright strength 
with their excited horses, the action of their limbs and 
muscles, and other circimstances, offer a useful exhibition 
to the sculptor or painter. ‘Though there are no riders, 
human life is more endangered in these than in our raees. 
Sometimes the horse masters lis groom, and breaks 
away before the Corso is cleared of people, in which and 
in several other cases, serious accidents are almost sure 
to happen. 

When matters are ready, a troop of dragoons set off 
from the other end of the Corso, and go at full gallop to- 
wards the starting-post, clearing the way: these soldiers 
then retire, and soon after an officer blows a trumpet 
from a balcony erected near to the spot whence the race 
is to begin. At the sound of the trumpet, the strone 
rope stretched aeross the street drops, the grooms let 
go their hold, and off start the horses like arrows from 
abow. ‘Fhe harder they run, the more they are pricked. 


Some of them have been known to be so wise as to stop, | 


when the motion of the leaden baHs, of course, would 
cease; but generally they run on at mad career, and occa- 
sionally show emulation and spite, by catching and 
biting at each other. 


# ‘The judge of the race is no less a personage than the | 


Governor of Jtome, who stands at a window in the 
palace of Venice, at which building is the goal or win- 
ning-post, or, as the Romans call it, “‘ la ripresa de’ bar- 
beri.” A little beyond this palace the street is shut in 
with a screen of strong canvas, through which the horses 
not unfrequently dash, though to their eyes it must look 
almost like a wall. The prize given to the master of 
the winning horse is merely an ornamental flag, and a 
piece of embroidered stuff. 

During the first six days of the carneval, which at 
Rome is limited to eight days, matches of mares, barbs, 
and other horses, are run alternately ; but during the 
two last days these different classes of aniimals run all to- 
gether, and thus naturally add to the riot, danger, and 
confusion of the exhibition. 

Some of the barberi brought up to the rope, though 
small, being mostly rather under than over fourteen 
hands, are™ clean-lesoed, well-formed; compact, and 
spirited creatures, giving evidence of good blood; but 
taking the Roman racers generally, we doubt, were they 
mounted, whether they would not be beaten in most of 
our pony races. 

Though betting, which gives such’ a perilous interest 
to our race-course, is by no means common, and the 
prize contended for so little worth, nothing’ can exceed 
the eagerness of the excitable Italians on these oc- 
casions. During the heat, the spectators honour with 


deafening “ bravos” the horse that runs well, and hiss | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Novemser 2, 


and hoot with almost equal noise all such as lax be- 
hind. . 

The Maltese have another very curious method of 
iorse-racing. The horses are indeed mounted, but they 
are not furnished with saddle, bridle, or any things of the 
sort; the riders sit on the bare back, and have no reins 
or any thing else in their hands except a small pointed 
instrument, not unlike a cobbler’s awl, with which they 
prick on their steeds. _ 

These races are held on a grand festival in the month- 
of June, at Citta Vecchia in the interior of the island. 
The horses are generally barbs, imported from the neigh- 
bouring coast of Africa,—small, good tempered, and 
certainly not swift. To these characteristics of the 
animals which facilitate such a mode of equitation,: we 
must add the important circumstance, that where the 
run or the great effort is made they go up hill. 

With an animal of any thing like the velocity and 
springy action of an English race-horse, it wonld be 
impossible to do without what the anthor of an excellent 
article on the ‘Turf,’ in No. xevili. of the ‘ Quarterly 
Review,’ calls “ the fulcrum of the stirrups;” and it 
would only be a didéle less impossible to stop him without 
bit or bridle. Indeed, even with such steeds as séme 
of them have, we fancy, if tlie Maltese would reverse'the 
case, and make the grand run down hill, instead of up, 
that not many of them would keep their seats. It would 
excite the derision of the Buckles and Chifneys, and 
other heroes of our turf, to see a naked-legged, naked- 
armed, red-sashed, slovenly set of fellows, rolling about 
on their ponies like so many Bacchuses on wine barrels, 
flourishing their awls, and bawling out in the most in- 
decorous manner ; but, notwithstanding this, the Maltese 
races certainly offer a novel and amusing scene to the 
stranger. 


EDUCATION FOR THE POOR. 


‘Task different methods in which children are educated in 


parish-workhouses, and the different results of a bad and 
a good system, are strikingly shown in some evidence 
lately published by the Poor-Law Commissioners. We 


print the details of two witnesses, exhibiting the opposing 
practices in parallel columns :— ! 


BAD. ‘ 

EvipenceE or Mr: Croox,. Evipenct or 
Crerk oF Sr. Ciemenr’s 

” DANES: ; 
War sort of education have 


GOOD. i 

Mr. Hutsn, Assrst- 
ANT OVERSEER OF St. GEORGE’s, 
SOUTHWARK, é 


you for the children of your 
parish? — The education 
which they receive, judging 
from the effects, is of httle or 


no use, for Iam sorry to say 


that the children turn out 
very badly. We have great 
difficulty in getting rid of 


them’; the boys especially. 
There is a large -proportion- 


of indifferent characters 
amongst them. 

Does any person of educa- 
tion take any part in the edu- 
cation of the workhouse chil- 
dren ?—Their education has 


been in the hands of a man 


who has been a sailor and a- 
watchman. The boys under 
his ‘management were. so~ 


disorderly that. in vexation 
he attempted to hang him- 
self. 

Was this, or the other per- 
sons who have had the edu- 
cation of the children, cha- 
racterized by superior acquire- 
ments to those commonly 
possessed by watchmen and 
sailors, or persous of the 


We have about seventy boys 
weekly in our workhouse 
school. There have been 
nearly the same number dur- 
ing the time I have been in 
ofiice. They have always been 
very fairly educated. During 
the last twelve years they 
have been fortunate in hav- 


“ing had very good masters ; 


good moral men as well as 
good teachers. | 

How have these boys turned 
out when apprenticed or got 
out to work ?>—~The boys who 
have been apprenticed have 
on the whole turned out very 
good boys. 


_. How many per cent. of their 


masters have received the 
second premium?—I think 
about eighty per cent. But 
the casualties of death, re- 
movals, and othercauses than 
the misconduct of the boys, 
may account for the second 
premium not being received 
in a large proportion of the 
remaining cases. 

How many of these boys 
have you known return to the 


1833.] 


BAD. 
labouring classes; or were 
they distinguished by their 
superior moral habits ?—No, 
they certainly had no superior 
acquirements; and as_ to 
good moral habits, they were 
not distinguished; quite the 
contrary. One master was 
employed in keeping an ac- 
count of the beer sent into 
the workhouse by the pubhi- 
cans ; and it was found that 
he had not only got liquors 
supplied to himself by various 
publicans, and charged an 
equivalent amount of beer 
to. the parish, but had re- 
ceived money regularly, and 
charged it under the head ot 
beer supphed to the work- 
house. It was believed that 
his scholars had been made 
agents in the negotiation of 
these matters. This occurred 
some years ago. But I have 
constant reason to wish that 
more cave were taken of the 
moral and intellectual edu- 
cation of the children. If 
Government could only see 
what the course of life of 


these unfortunate children 155, 
what plagues they are made, 


and how poor is their educa- 
tion, I think httle time would 
be lost in getting an educa- 
tion which would have some 
influence on their habits and 
conduct in life. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


GOOD. 

parish as bad characters ?— 
Since I have been in office I 
only remember two cases. 

How many have returned 
from such causes as failure of 
work or want of competency, 
or other causes than those 
not deemed bad, or bad con- 
duct ?>—I do not know of any 
other instances whatever, be- 
yond those I have mentioned, 
where the boys sent out dur- 
ing the last twelve years have 
returned upon the parish. 

Can you state from your ob- 
servation that this result of 
the good general conduct of 
the workhouse boys has been 
the effect of their more care- 
ful education ?—I have no 
doubt whatever that the great 
care bestowed on their educa- 
tion, and the general attention 
paid by the minister of our 
parish, and a number of well- 
disposed persons, to their mo- 
ral and religious conduct, has 
been productive of these ef- 
fects. The boys in the work- 
house are frequently visited 
by respectable people, who 
pay attention to their beha- 
viour and treat them with 
kindness. I am quite sure 
that with such care as may 
easily be given, the children 
may be made to turn out well; 
where, had nocare been given, 
they would in the ninety-nine 
cases have turned out bad. 





called unconformable stratification. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section 15, 
COAL.. 
GronoaicaL SirvuaTion.—( Continued.) 


WE have said that the coal-measures consist of a series 
of beds of sandstones, shales, clays and coal, lying one 
above another in repeated alternations; but it must not 
be supposed that they he horizontally as they are re- 
presented in the diagram in No. 51, already so often 
referred to. ‘They must, no doubt, have been originally 


K If. mi Uys, 
i j 





Cc 
a 
oe) 









. 
. 
6 Seaver das Ges Gt ae ee Eg 


eee 


~ °° @ ft 
= e8 @ ¥ @ ¢ % 


————* O—e -_ 


If K 






ww @ @ °* 
‘EL. OO BS eee ee 


427 


deposited, in most cases, on a level or nearly level 
bottom ; but with very few exceptions indeed, the coal- 
measures have been thrown out of the horizontal line 
into highly inclined positions, and frequently broken up 
and thrown about in the most extraordinary manner, by 
a great force, from the interior of the earth. One of the 
most simple cases of disturbance 1s represented by the 
following diagram ‘— | 





. P Oo N MM 
| This is an ideal section, across a coal-field,—that is to 
say, if we made a deep perpendicular cut of the ground, 
and saw a wall exposed like a vertical cliff on the sea- 
shore, the strata would exhibit the appearance here 


represented, in many cases. We have, on the west, the 
old red sandstone P, covered by the carboniferous lime- 
stone O, which is succeeded by the millstone grit, N ; 
then come the coal-measures, M; and, preceeding east- 
ward, we find these dipping under the sandstone and 
magnesian limestone, L, which cover them in what is 
The coal-measures 
must have been thrown out of their horizontal position ; 
and the ends of the strata formed the bottom of the sea, 
while the materials of the sandstone and magnesian 
limestone were deposited upon them in horizontal strati- 
fication. It is not very often the case that the coal- 
méasures are so much inclined as in this diagram; they 
more usually dip, as it is termed, ata less angle: but it 
is a very frequent occurrence to find’ them forming a 
great trough or basin, rising all round from a central 
point, the sides’ of the basin being formed by the inferior 
sandstorie or limestone, and the middle being filled up 
by strata superior to the coal-measures. ‘The following 
diagram will explain what we mean :— 


M ~ N Gop Ff Teale 
| 


ly APP SS we oe oR fee Gee pwd 












: 
| 
: 
| 


ee SS Le 
Qa en SP Se 


a aie: _ ee GS 
a 
ee ee ee ee ee 
e 
.* 





The above letters correspond with the Section in No. 51,—19th of January, 1832. 


I. Upper oolite, or Bath stone, 

Ie. Inferior oolite, a coarse shelly limestone. 

I f. ‘Phin beds of limestone (lias) and slaty clay. 
KK. Red marly sandstone. 


This is not an ideal section, but a true representation 
of the strata in a part of the Bristol coal-field, the sec- 
tion being from the Mendip Hills, above Axbridge, 
through Dundry Hill to Fog Hill, uorth-west of Bath, 


M. The coal-measures—with five principal seains of coal. 
N. The millstone grit. 

QO. The carboniferous hmestone, 

P. The old red sandstone, 


in a direction between south-west and north-east, and 

extending about twenty miles. We do not of course 

mean to say that, if a vertical section were made along 

the whole line; the coal:measures would exhibit the 
a1 2 


428 


recular curves here shown; they would, doubtless, 
appear much disturbed and interrupted: the .diagram 
gives only the general character of a country actually 
surveyed, without attention to proportions, which could 
not of course be given except on along line. Here we 
find the summit of the Mendip Hills P, composed of the 
old red sandstone rising up in inclined stratification and 
flanked on both sides by the carboniferous limestone O. 
In the south part of the coal-field, the beds dip to the 
vorth; but in the northern part they dip in the opposite 
direction; and proceeding northwards, the millstone 
erit N, is seen rising from under them, and from beneath 
that the limestone and old red sandstone again appear 
in succession. It is evident that, subsequent to the depo- 
sition of the old red sandstone and coal-measures, they 
were upheaved by a force from below, acting on several 
points at the same time, which turned up the strata into 
their present basin-shaped form. This section exhibits 
also another geological phenomenon of frequent occur- 
rence, of the same kind as is seen in the ideal Section, 
Fie. 1; it shows that the disturbance we speak of took 
place prior to the deposition of the newer secondary 
strata K, I f, Ie, for these strata lie upon the. tilted-up 
ends of the coal-measures, It affords besides proofs 
of great changes on the surface after the formation 
of these newer secondary strata, for the parts now 
detached were no doubt once continuous. This in- 
terruption to the continuity was probably occasioned 
by the combined action of earthquakes and subsequent 
floods, which have scooped out the land, leaving the 
hills and valleys that now diversify the surface of the 
country. Very frequently such denudations have taken 
place in parts of the country, as for instance, in the New- 
castle coal-fields, where the coal measures come near to 
the surface, and thus great tracts of coal have been 
swept away. It is to this cause that we assign many 
cases of the breaking off of seams of coal, in a country 
where they have been expected to be found continuous. 

The coal-measures exhibit other proofs of having been 
subjected to great disturbances, after they had been 
consolidated, which will be better understood by the fol- 
lowing diagram :— | 


Fig, 3. 





The strata here, in place of continuing uninterruptedly, are 
suddenly broken off by what is termed a FAULT or DIKE 
D; and, on passing through this dike, it is found that the 
saine beds occupy different levels on opposite sides of it, 
the corresponding parts being thrown out of the former 
plane, sometimes only a few inches, at others several 
fathoms, and even as much as five hundred feet, so that 
the same seam of coal, which on one side of the dike is 
perhaps not more than twenty feet from the surface, may 
be sunk to the depth of five hundred feet on the other 
side of it. It is impossible to say whether it was the 
portion @ which was depressed, or 6 which was upheaved: 
the one or the other would have produced the same 
effect. “Sometimes several such dikes occur within a very 
short distance, as in the following diagram; which is a 
section of the coal-measures in- Jarrow colliery in the 


county of Durham, where there are five different dikes 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[NovEMBER 2, 


D, all producing changes in the levels of the strata on 
each side of them. 


Fig. 4. 





These dikes are clefts or fissures which often extend 
many miles ; they penetrate in most cases to an unknown 
depth, and usually in a vertical direction, ‘They are 
sometimes mere rents, the two masses of strata on each 
side keeping in contact during the motion by which the 
continuity of the stratification was broken; at other 
times, aud this is the more common case, they are filled 
with fragments of the disrupted strata imbedded in clay, 
which has subsequently filtered into them. In a part of 
the Newcastle coal-field, in Montagu colliery, there is a 
dike which is twenty-two yards wide. 

The coal-measures are also disturbed by the passage 
of vast veins of trap, basalt, or whinstone, which have 
been ejected from the interior of the earth like lava, filling 
up vents either previously existing, or caused by the 
same force which threw the melted stone to the surface. 
They are also called dikes, with the addition of the name 
of the stone, whin dikes by miners, and basaltic dikes 
by geologists, and produce the same effect of changing 
the planes of stratification on each side of them. They 
are very common in the coal-fields of Northumberland, 
Staffordshire, and Scotland ; and it is very probable that 
even where they do not appear, they have been the cause 
of the disturbances to which coal-fields are so pecu- 
liarly hable. A remarkable circumstance often attends 
them in the change which takes place in the character 
of the stone or coal in contact with them, the coal for a 
considerable distance Inward being converted into a sub- 
stance In appearance and properties exactly resembling 
coke, and the sandstone and shales into compact flints 
and jaspers; evident proofs of the basalt having been 
injected among the strata in a highly heated state. 

Dikes of all sorts occasion vast difficulties and expense 
in mining, not only on account of their mterrupting the 
regularity of the seams of coal, but because they very 
often are conduits for water, and when pierced, a flood 
drowns the mine, and sometimes so suddenly that the 
miners have no time to escape, and thus many lives have 
been lost. If this total destruction of the mine does not 
take place, they cause such a constant flow of water that 
it can only be drawn off by powerful steain-engines at the 
surface, On the other hand, faults are often a source of 
great benefit, for when filled with stiff clay they prevent 
the access of water from the other side, and by means of 
them a valuable seam of coal may be thrown up within 
reach of working, which would otherwise have been lost. 

[In our next Section, we shall state the opinions gene- 
rally entertained by geologists as to the probable origin 
of coal. | 


, 





1833.] 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—WILLIAM DAMPIER.— 

Mee 2. , 
SHORTLY after Christmas, 1679, the buccaneers, com- 
manded by Captains Sawkins, Coxon, and Sharp, and 
accompanied by Dampier, Wafer, and several other men 
of considerable acquirements, and (from all that appears) 
of decent conduct and honourable sentiments on all 
subjects unconnected “ with the service,” set out on a 
long contemplated and important expedition against the 
Spaniards at Portobel and on the isthmus of Darien. 
We can only hastily abridge their adventures, which, ex- 
cept inasmuch as they went to extend geographical dis- 
covery and our knowledge of the globe, and are connected 
with such individuals as Dampier and Wafer, offer little 
that we could recommend for our reader’s admiration 
or improvement, ‘The pervading moral—that money 
easily acquired is still more rapidly spent, and that a life 
of debauchery, plunder, and violence leads to a violent 
death, or to misery,—is too obvious to be dwelt 
upon. 

Having accomplished this expedition against Portobel, 
the buccaneers resolved “ to march by land over the 
isthmus of Darien, upon some new adventures in the 
Sonth Seas,”—a daring attempt; but of which a success- 
ful example had been set them a few years before, by 
the bold, but cruel Morgan. 

Lhey accordingly landed to the number of about 
three hundred and fifty men; and after nine days of in- 
tolerable fatigue, arrived at the Spanish town of Santa 
Maria, which they attacked and took. They then pro- 
ceeded to the shore of the Pacific Ocean, and having no 
vessels but Indian canoes and periagos, they fearlessly 
proceeded with these until they captured some Spanish 
traders. 

They were soon in sight of Panama, but durst uot 
attack that city. In an unsuccessful attempt they made 
on Puebla Nova, they lost a good number of men and 
Sawkins, who had been elected commander-in-chief. 
Changing their course, they stood away to the south- 
ward for the coast of Peru, where they cruized for some 
months, and plundered one small town. They passed 
their Christmas at the island of Juan Fernandez, which 
was the farthest of their course to the southward. While 
there, being dissatisfied with Sharp, who had succeeded 
Sawkins in the chief command, they displaced him and 
advanced Watline. Shortly after this, they were re- 
pulsed with dreadful loss before the town of Arica, and 
their new commander-in-chief was among the number 
of the slain. 

Dissensions now breke out among them. One party 
would re-elect Sharp as commander-in-chief, whilst 
another, thinking him deficient in courage and enter- 
prise, would not sail under his orders. Dampier, Wafer, 
and some of the best of the men, were of the party 
adverse to Sharp. At last they agreed to part company. 
Sharp's faction, as being the more numerous, kept the 
ship, and remained in the South Seas; and Dampier’s 
took the long boat and the canoes, and made for the 
isthmus of Darien, which they determined to recross. 

‘We were,” says our traveller, “in number, forty-fonr 
white men, who bore arms, a Spanish Tudian, who bore 
arms also, and two Moskito Indians, who always bear 
arms amoug the privateers, and are much valued by 
them for striking fish, and turtle or tortoise, and manatee 
or sea-cow; and we had five slaves taken in the South 
Seas who fell to our share.” | 

As they approached the isthmus, they found that the 
Spaniards were on the look out for them, having three 
large ships of war cruizing off the coast, and some 
hundreds of soldiers at different posts alone shore. 
Though several tines in extreme danger, the buccaneers 
contrived to elude their enraged enemies, and to land 
safely in a small creek in the Bay of Panama, a little to 
the west of Cape St. Lorenzo. Having sunk their 


ta 


boats, that no traces might be seen of them, they began 
thelr march across the difficult country, directing their 
course north-east by their pocket compasses. ia their 
journey they had to avoid the Spaniards, and such wild 
Indian tribes as were friendly to that nation. Fortu- 
nately for them, the oppression and cruelty of the Spa- 
niards had not left many such friends, and thie majority 
of the poor natives were well disposed towards the 
jénglish sailors. ) 

The difficulties they had to encounter were, however, 
very great, the isthmus chiefly consisting of pathless 
forests, deep rivers, torrents and mountains of the rudest 
description.; As they advanced, guides became indis- 
pensable, and these could not always be procured with- 
out difficulty. On one occasion an old Indian resisted 
all the temptations of beads, money, hatchets, aud long 
knives ; “ nothing,” says Dampier, “ would work on 
him, till one of our men took a sky-coloured petticoat 
out of his bag, and put it on his wife, who was so much 
pleased with the present, that she immediately began to 
chatter to her husband, and soon bronght him into a 
better humour.” 

During the greater part of the journey, the ram 
descended in torrents, rendering the rivers and even the 
brooks impassable, and frequently obliging them to stop. 
At one of their halts made to dry their clothes, fire-arms, 
and ammunition, Dampier informs ns that “ the chy- 
rurgeon, Mr. Wafer, came to a sad disaster; being 
drying his powder, a careless fellow passed by with his 
pipe lighted, and set fire to his powder, which blew up, 
and scorched his knee, and reduced him to that con- 
dition that he was not able to march; wherefore we 
allowed him a slave to carry his things, being all of us 
the more concerned at his accident, because liable our- 
selves every moment to misfortune, and none to look 
after us but him.” : 

Lhe poor surgeon, who was almost as good an ob- 
server, and as happy in describing what he saw, as Dam- 
pier himself, contrived to keep up with the party for some 
four or five days longer; but then the slaves ran away, 
and the negro appointed to attend on him absconmled 
with his medicine chest, clothes, &c. We may here use 
his own words: ‘** And so not being able to trudge it 
farther through rivers and woods, I took leave of my 
companions, and set up my rest among the Darien In- 
dians. And there staid with me one Mr, Richard Jop- 
son, who had served an apprenticeship to a druggist in 
London; he was an ingenious man, and a eood scholar; 
he had with him a Greek testament, which he frequently 
read, and would translate exfempore into English to 
such of the company as were disposed to hear him.”’ 

To this accidental detention of Lionel Wafer, we are 
indebted for one of the most interesting accounts of 
savage life that have ever been written—for one of the 
most amusing and delightful of books. 

Besides the accomplished Richard Jopson, who could 
read Greek, three other sailors, incapable of continuing 
the journey, remained with the surgeon. As he had no 
means of alleviating the anguish of lis wound, he pnt 
himself in the hands of the natives, who undertook lis 
cure, and effected it in twenty days, by daily applying 
‘* some herbs which they first chewed in their mouths to 
the consistency of a paste, and putting It on a plantain 
leaf, and laying it upon the sore.” 

In other respects, however, the Indians were not so 
kind; only throwing them unripe plantains for food, 
“as you would bones to a dog.” This incivility in- 
creased as time went on, without the return of the In- 
dians of their tribe, who had gone with the main body of 
the buccaneers and Dampier as guides. They sus- 
pected their friends had met with foul play; and at 
length, as there was still no news of tliem,-:the savages 
determined to sacrifice their guests. One morning they 
prepared a great pile of wood, and told Wafer that he 


430 


and his companions must expect to be burned on it when 
the sun went down, if the guides were not returned. 

In this horrid suspense, when they thought their 
doom inevitable, Lacenta, the king or chief of the In- 
dians, lappened to pass that way, and dissnaded the en- 
raged people from their cruel purpose. The Englishmen 
were then sent, under the escort of two of the Iudians, 
towards the northern coast of the isthmus, where they 
might find their comrades, or obtain some means of leaving 
the country. For three days they marched through in- 
cessant rains accompanied by terrific lightning: the 
country was swamped: they had nothing to eat but a 
little dry maize, and when this was expended on the 
third day, the Indians ran off and abandoned them in the 
wilderness. They had now no food; but on the fifth 
day they found some maccaw-trees, the berries of which 
afforded a trifling nourishment. ‘Their only guide was a 
pocket compass, and they lost their way among forests, 
mountains, rivers, floods, and torrents, the raim never 
ceasing. After eight days of wandering, being ¢om- 
pletely bewildered, they concluded it best to follow the 
track of a peccary, hoping it might lead them to some 
plautation or potato field, which the wild hogs frequent 
for food. The track, indeed, led them to an old planta- 
tion, in sight of a new one, which proved to be close to 
the Indian village where they had been threatened with 
burning, and whence they had set out so many, days 
before. 

On reaching the huts of the Indians, Wafer swooned 
from long fasting and fatigue ; but the disposition of those 
people had undergone a very advantageous change. 
Their brethren, the guides, had not only returned safely 
from the coast to which they had accompanied the bucca- 
neers, but were delighted with the kind treatment and 
handsome presents they had received for their services. 
Accordingly they treated Wafer and his companions with 
extreme kindness, entertained them hospitably for seven 
days, and then gave them a proper escort and provi- 
sions, that they might reach the northern coast. 
~ After marching for six days they arrived at the resi- 
dence of the merciful Lacenta. This chief insisted that 
they should not proceed further during the rainy season, 
which still continued ; and as, after such long delays, 
they had little hope of finding their comrades on the 
coast, the Englishmen the more willingly resigned them- 
selves to a residence among savages. 

In a short time the surgical ability of Lionel Wafer 
exalted him to honours. One of the chief’s wives fell 
sick, and bleeding was prescribed: Wafer thus describes 
the Darien Indian mode of performing the operation :— 

“The patient is seated on a stone in the river, aud 
one with a small bow shoots little arrows into.the naked 
body of the patient, np and down, shooting them as fast 
as he can, and not missing any part; but the arrows are 
eaooed, so that they penetrate no further than we gene- 
rally thrust our lancets.” 

Wafer volunteered to bleed the lady without intlicting 
so much torment, aud Lacenta consented that he should 
perform the important operation ; but, after the incision 
inade by the lancet, when that chief saw the blood spout 
out in a stream, instead of falling drop by drop, as it did 
in their method, he laid hold of his lance, and swore by 
his tooth, (the most solemn of their oaths,) that if his 
wife did otherwise than well, he would have the doctor’s 
heart’s blood. 

{t was soon seen, however, that the stranger’s mode of 
bleeding was every way better than their own, and when, 
alter her venesection and a little repose, his wife had re- 
covered from her fever, Lacenta came, and before all his 
train, bowed, and kissed the surgeon’s hand. ‘“ Then,” 

ays Lionel, “ the rest came thick about me, and sone 
kissed OY, hand, others my knee, and some my foot ; 
after which I was taken up in a hammock and carried on 
men’s shoulders, Lacenta himself niaking a speech in 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[NOVEMBER 2, 


my praise, and commending me as much superior to any 
of their doctors. And thus, afterwards, 1 was carried 
about from plantation to plantation, and lived in great 
splendour and repute, administering both physic and 
phlebotomy to those that wanted.” Most luckily for 
Wafer, he had a case of instruments and a few medi- 
caments wrapped up in an oil cloth, and in his pocket, 
when the Negro decamped with the rest of his effects. 
He continued to live for several months with these 
poor Indians, who, he says, almost adored him. He 
frequently went out hunting with the chief, who be- 
came so much attached to him, that he wished to keep 
him with him all the days of his life. The manner m 
whicli the surgeon contrived to escape from this aflec- 
tionate savage is as characteristic as the rest of his ad- 
veutures. These Indians had no good dogs; the breed 
they Had was so poor and spiritless, that the peccaries 
would often keep them in play a whole day. Sometimes 
the dogs would not run either by sight or scent—they 
were, in short, sad curs. Wafer had frequent opportu- 
nities of remarking this, and of dwelling on the surpass- 
ing excellence of English hounds. At length he pre- 
posed, that, with the chief’s kind permission, he would go 
to England, and soon return with a good supply of his 
country’s dogs. . As the chase was not a mere amuse- 
ment, as among us, but Lacenta’s principal means of 
subsistence, this was offering a great temptation. “* He 
demurred, however,” says Wafer, ‘* awhile, but at length 
he swore by his tooth, laying his finger on it, that I 
should have my liberty, and for my sake, the other four 
with me, provided I would promise and swear by my 
tooth, that I would return and. marry among them, for 
he had made mea promise of his daughter in marriage.” 

Wafer was forced to do what was required of him. 
An Indian escort was then granted of seven stout men, 
and four women, to carry the provisions and clothes. 
‘The surgeon’s wardrobe was sadly reduced, consisting 
only of “a linen frock and a pair of breeches.” “ These,” 
says Lionel, “ I saved to cover my nakedness if ever I 
should come among Christians again, for at this time I 
went naked as the salvages, and was painted by their 
women.” . : 

After a most fatiguing journey, Wafer and his com- 
rades reached the Atlantic shores of the isthmus of 
Darien. But there were no English or friendly ships 
on the coast, and they found themselves still obliged to 
abide among the Indians. On this sad occasion, seeing 
no means of quitting the wild country, Wafer showed 
some credulity and folly in consulting one of their con- 
jurors. At day-break of the tenth day after their arrival 
on the coast, the anxious Englishmen heard a gun at 
sea, and presently another gun was fired, ‘The Indians, 
well knowing these buccaneer signals, presently went off 
in their canoes, taking Wafer and his friends with them. 
They found, behind a small island called La Sound's 
Key, two vessels manned by Englishmen, that had come 
to anchor during the night. In one cf these ships was 
Dampier, with many of their old companions in the 
South Sea and in the disastrous journey aeross part of the 
isthmus. ‘Ihe vessels, indeed, bad come on purpose to 
lyok out for those five men who had been left behind. 

The four seamen, not having been honoured like the 
surgeon, were probably not disguised by paint and Indian 
ornaments; they were presently recognized and heartily 
welcomed by their old shipmates. “ But 1,” says 
Wafer, “sat awhile, cringing upon my hams among the 
Indians, after their fashion, painted as they were, and 
all naked but only about the waist, and with my nose- 
piece hanging over my mouth, I was willing to try if 
they knew me in this disguise, and ‘twas the better part 
of an hour, before one, looking more harrowly upon me, 
cried out, ‘ Why! here’s our doctor!’ and iminediately 
they all congratulated my arrivel among them.” 

Our advetiturer, Dampier, having his old associate, 


 - 


1833.] : 


Lionel Wafer, with him the greater part of the time, re- 
mained with the buccaneers, cruising in the South 
Seas, off the Spanish main, until the summer of 1652. 
During this time he obtained, by diligent observation, 
a most extensive knowledge of the coasts of the American 
continent, and he still kept a journal of all that was 
interesting in his profession, and novel or curious in 
natural history. On crossing the isthmus of Darien, 
his greatest solicitude appears to have been for the 
preservation of the journals he had made up to that 
period. ‘‘ Foreseeing,” he says, ‘a necessity of wading 
through rivers frequently in our Jand march, I took 
care, before I left my ship, to provide myself a large 
joint of bamboo,“which I stopped at both ends, closing 
it with wax, so as to keep out any water. In this I pre- 
served my journal and other writings from being wet, 
though I was often forced to swim.” 

Irom these journals, written during the leisure hours 
whicli the majority of his comrades passed in drinking, 
gambling, and quarrelling, and from his having always 
paid such attention to their preservation, Dampier was 
in after years enabled to draw up a work which has ex- 
cited the admiration of the world. 

In July, 1682, our traveller retired to Virginia, which 
was by this time an English settlement of importance. 
His love of wandering and adventure soon, however, 
repossessed him; and in August, 1683, joining another 
buccaneer expedition, in which Lionel Wafer was en- 
gaged as surgeon, he sailed from Virginia for the South 
Seas. This time he did not cross the isthmus of Darien, 
but, stretching along the whole of South America, he 
doubled Cape Horn, and so entered the South Seas. 
On the 23rd of March, 1684, he was again at the island 
of Juan Fernandez, in speaking of which place, he intro- 
duces that most interesting anecdote of William, [a 
Mosquito Indian, who had been left for more than three 
years on that uninhabited island. The reader will find 
the anecdote in No. 30 of the ‘ Penny Magazine. 


[To be continued. } 


” Opposition of Ignorance to the use of Printing.—Iin 
the ‘Typographical Antiquities’ of Ames and Herbert, it is 
stated, that the first book printed on paper manufactured 
in England, came out in 1495 or 1496, from the press of 
Winkin de Worde. Shakspeare—whose chronology is not 
to be trusted—makes Jack Cade, in the reign of Henry VI., 
(who was deposed in 1461,) thus accuse Lord Sands :— 
“Whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but 
the score and the ¢ally,—thou hast caused printing to be 
used, and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity, thou 
hast built a paper-mill.” The insurrection of Jack Cade 


was ostensibly for the redress of grievances amongst the 


people. Shakspeare fixes the complaint of Cade against 
printing and paper-making some ten or twenty years earlier 
than the introduction of printing amongst us;—but he 
could not have better pointed out the ignorance of popular 
violence,—and all violence is the result of ignorance. The 
best instruments for producing good government, and equal 
laws for all men, have been the paper-mill and the printing- 
press ;—and exactly in proportion as the knowledge which 
they embody has been diffused, have we advanced, not only 
in our social arrangements, but in every other manifestation 
of a prosperous and well-ordered community. Whatever 
remains to be accomplished will go hand-in-hand with the 
continued diffasion of knowledge. 





Cause of the Migration of Fishes and Birds.—“ I fear I 
am not entomologist enough to follow the life of the May- 
fly, but I shall willingly have my attention directed to its 
habits. Indeed,-I- have often regretted that sportsmen were 
not fonder of zoology; they have so many opportunities, 
which other persons do not possess, of illustrating the origin 
and qualities af some of the most curious forms of animated 
nature; the causes and character of the migrations of ani- 
mals; their relations to each other, and their place and 
order in the general scheme of the universe. It has always 
appeared to me, that the two great sources of change of 
place of animals, was the providing of fod for themselves, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


tenacity. 


431 


and resting-places and food for their young. The great 
supposed migrations of herrings from the poles to the tem- 
perate zone, have appeared to me to be only the approach of 
successive shoals from deep to shallow water, for the purpose 
of spawning. The migrations of salmon anid trout are evi- 
dently for the purpose of depositing their ova, or of finding 
food after they have spawned. Swallows and bec-eaters 
decidedly pursue flies over half a continent; the scolopax 
or snipe tribe, in like manner, search for worms and larve, 
—flying from those countries where either frost or dryness 
prevents them from boring,—making generally small flights 
at a time, and resting on their travels where they find food, 
Anda journey from England to Africa is no more for an 
animal that can fly, with the wind, one hundred miles in an 
hour, than a journey for a Londoner to his seat in a distant 
province. And the migrations of smaller fishes or birds 
always occasion the migration of larger ones, that prey on 
them. ‘Thus, the seal follows the salmon, in summer, to 
the mouths of rivers; the hake follows the herring and pu- 
chard; hawks are seen in great quantities, in the month of 
May, coming into the east of Europe, after quails and land- 
rails; and locusts are followed by numerous birds, that, for- 
tunately for the agriculturist, make them their prey.”"—Si7 
Humphry Davy's Salmonia. 





THE OPOSSUM. 
(Abridged from an account in Cuvier and Geoffroy de St. Hidaire’s 
Mammatia.) 

THouaH most travellers, struck with the’ singular 
organization of this animal and the manner in which 
it rears its young, have entered into details upon its 
structure and habits, none have done so with so much 
exactness as M. de Azara, in his ‘ Quadrupeds of 
Paraguay.’ 

The characteristics of the species may be thus repre- 
sented. The toes are five to eacl foot, armed with very 
feeble claws, and the great toes of the hind feet are alto- 
eether without them, and are opposable to the other” 
toés, the hind feet thus forming real hands, to which the 
name of pedimanes has been given. ‘ue opossums move 
their feet very singularly in walking, which is to them an: 
operation of labour and difficulty. ‘The tail is flexible, and 
very strong; and the animal is reported to suspend him- 
self by it in order to watch for passing prey. It does not 
appear that the opossums have any other voice than:a 


‘blowing like that of cats when menacing. The females 


have under the belly a pouch, in which it is beheved 
that the young opossums, born prematurely, complete 
their development. This particular organ, which has. 
the power of opening and closing, contains the teats, 
which seem to vary in number, twelve having been 
found -in one female, while another only had ten. ‘The 
opening is a longitudinal cleft, which conducts backward 
to a bag of very small dimensions, the abode. of the 
young ones, and which extends with age and the number 
of young it is required to accommodate. The period of 
gestation is about twenty-six days, and the young 
sojourn about fifty in the pouch. Azara has seen the 
young about five inches long, with their eyes closed, and 
the hair just beginning to appear, adhering to the teat, 
their hold on which they retain with remarkable 
The animal is eleven inches in length, from 
the occiput to the root of the tail; the tail is about the 
same extent; the head is six inches; and the height, at 
the fore part of the back, is from seven to eight inches. 
The body is of: a greyish-yellow colour, resulting from 


the hairs being dirty-white in most of their length, and 
‘black or brown at the extremities ; but some entirely 


black hairs are here and there interspersed with the 
white.” The feet, tlie ears, ond the extremity of the 
snout, are naked. 

The organs of sense and motion in the opossum 
do not offer many indications of activity and strength. 
His little eyes are nearly without eyelids, though the 
nictitating membrane is well developed, and comi- 
pletely covers the eye, which is rather prominent, re- 


[ sembling the segment of an ellipsis, with a pupil of 


432 


vertical length, like that of a cat. His nostrils, at the 
extremity of a long snout which overhangs the jaw, 
open upon the sides of a naked muzzle; and his smell 
is the most delicate sense the animal possesses, and 
the best of his resources. The tongue is covered with 
very rough papille. The ears have the power of 
closing, and turn upwards and backwards by means of 
three longitudinal folds, and are brought down by trans- 
verse folds, much more numerous, which cut the former 
at right angles. The movement, in both cases, is doubt- 
less determined by a particular muscular apparatus. 

An individual opossum, which is referred to in the 
above description, was fed with raw meat and soaked 
bread. He lapped in drinking ; but was seen to receive 
in his mouth the water which fell drop by drop from 
the top of his cage; and whenever occasion offered, 
he repeated the same exercise, and appeared to find 
much pleasure in it. The seat of feeling seemed to 
be principally in the feet, which are covered with a 
very fine skin, and are furnished with very delicate 
tubercles, the forms and relations of which are too 
complicated for description. 

In its wild state the opossum scoops out for himself 
a. burrow near the bushes in the neighbourhood of 
habitations. He sleeps during the day, in which he 
sees but badly; but by night he is abroad to seek 
his food. . He mounts the trees, penetrates into the 
poultry yards, attacks the hens and small birds, sucks 
their blood, devours their eg'es, and when he is satisfied, 
returns to conceal himself at the bottom of his retreat. 


~ 
BAS 
reg & 


THE PENNY 


SS 
aN 


MAGAZINE. [November 2,-18383, 
He often contents himself with reptiles and insects, and 
will even eat fruit. With habits of life analogous to 
those of the fox and the pole-cat, he is much less cruel 
and sanguinary; nor is he so well furnished as they with 
the means of defence. It has been already stated that 
he runs but badly; and though the mouth is extr emely 
large aud well armed, it wants force. The opossum is, 
besides, a stupid animal, and without that intelligence 
which might serve him against his enemies. He en- 
deavonrs to bite the stick that strikes him, but not the 
arm that directs it; differing in this respect from most 
other mammalia, which, by a very remarkable act of intel- 
ligence, distinguish the person who aims the blow from 
the instrument which strikes, and attack the former. It 
appears that his principal means of defence consist in 
an abominable odour which he emits when in danger, 
and which M. de Azara, who in the assertion speaks 
from his own experience, declares that it requires a great 
effort of reason to support. 

The peculiarity of: construction of this and other 
marsupial animals occasioned the first describers of them 
to be considered rather as inventors than as trustworthy 
witnesses, and it was a considerable time before they were 
correctly represented. Even Buffon (though learnedly 
and very elaborately exposing the error of other writers 
with respect to this singular animal, or rather class 
of animals) has given a very inaccurate description of 
it, confounding the opossum of Virginia and kangaroo 
of New Holland ; but giving for the former a figure 
unlike either, though between. both. 


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[Male and Female Opossums. } 





*,* The Office of the Soctety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
LONDON :--CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EASE: 





Priated by Witrram, Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENN 





[AGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





103.) 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


| NovemBer 9, 1833. 





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Tus is, in many respects, one of the most magnificent 
of our cathedrals. Its form is the usual one of a cross, 
the principal limb or bar, which extends from east to 
west, being 371 feet in leneth, and the other, or the 
transept, measuring 135 feet from north to south. Over 
the junction of the nave and transept is a tower rising to 
the height of 160 feet; and two other massive towers, 
each 126 feet in height, crown the extremities of the west 
front. ‘This facade, as may be seen from our wood-cut, 
presents a remarkably splendid display of tracery and 
sculptured figures. Altogether, there are introduced 
into the composition no fewer than 150 statues of the 
size of life, and above 300 others of smaller size. Not- 
withstanding the mutilation which nearly all of these 
sculptures have undergone, the effect ofso vast a throng 
of fieures, and of the elaborate decoration of every niche 
and buttress, is rich in the extreme. ‘The towers, by 
which the whole is surmounted, add greatly to the 
erandeur of the display, and make this erection alto- 
oether one of the most noble and imposing of which 
the architecture of the middle ages can boast. 

The first church at Wells is said to have been founded 
by the great Ina, king of Wessex, in 704. The town, 
however, does not appear to have become the seat of a 
bishopric till the reign of Edward the Elder, in the 

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becinning of the tenth century. But the early history of 
the see is extremely obscure. The first bishop of whom 
there is any certain account is John de Villula, who, 
befure his elevation to the mitre, is said to have practised 
physic at Bath, and by that means to have earned the 
means of purchasing the see from the rapacious Rufus. 
This was about the year 1091. As soon as he obtained 
his ecclesiastical dignity, De Villula removed the epis- 
copal seat from Wells to Bath, whether with the object 
of still continuing to pursue his original profession we 
do not know, but, at any rate, not without all the 
opposition in their power from the subordinate function- 
aries of the former church. ‘The act, indeed, was the 
occasion of bitter and long-protracted animosity between 
the Wells and Bath establishments ; whose disputes were 
rather appeased for the moment than finally settled by 
the decision of De Villula’s successor, Bishop Robert, 
about the year 1139, that the diocesan should be styled 
Bishop of Bath and Wells, and be enthroned, on his 
admission, in both churches. De Villula had thrown 
aside the old title altogether, and called himself Bishop 
of Bath only. But although this prelate is not spoken 
of in very laudatory terms in the chronicles of his church, 
and his slight regard for the more ancient seat of his 
| bishopric, in comparison with the city in which he had 


434 


been accustomed to exercise his lay functions, seems to 
have been strongly enough manifested, he was probably 
a person of much greater merit than his detractors would 
lead us to conclude. From his successful practice as a 
physician, we may suppose that in learning and scientific 
kuowledge he was considerably beyond his age. Not- 
withstanding, too, what is reported of the way mn which 
he obtained his bishopric, he does not appear to have 
been deficient in the munificence becoming his place. 
He built, out of his revenues, a new church at Bath, 
being the structure which preceded the present abbey 
church. At Wells, however, he allowed the cathedral 
to fall to ruin; and he also gave great offence, not 
imnaturally, to the canons, by pulling down a cloister, 
hail, and dorter, or lodging place, which one of his 
predecessors, Bishop Giso, had built for them, and 
erecting a residence for himself on their site. It must 
be confessed that he would seem to have carried matters 
with rather a high hand. 

De Villula died in 1123, and was succeeded by Bishop 
Robert, already mentioned, who repaired or rebuilt the 
cathedral, which his predecessor had allowed to go to 
decay. After him Reginald Fitz-Joceline, Archdeacon 
of Salisbury, was appointed to the see. ‘This prelate, 
who was afterwards elected Archbishop of Canterbury, 
though he died before his actual removal to that see, 
obtained from Kine Richard I. a strange grant, the 
original of which is still preserved, giving him and his 
successors the right of keeping dogs for hunting 
over all the county of Somerset, as fully, so it runs, 
as any of his predecessors had ever enjoyed the 
same. 

The present cathedral was begun in the early: part of 
the reign of Henry III., or before the middle of the 
thirteenth century, by Bishop Joceline de Welles, or 
Troteman, as he is otherwise called; who also made 
Wells his place of residence, and in other respects 
restored it to the precedence which, in everything except 
the title of the see, it has since retained. 

The entire body of the church, from the west end to 
the middle of the present choir, is supposed to be the 
work of Bishop Joceline de Welles. ‘The two western 
towers, however, were only added, that on the south 
about the end of the fourteenth century, by Bishop John 
de Harewell, and that on the north, about twenty years 
after, by Bishop Bubwith. Before this the body of 
the church had been completed to its eastern extremity ; 
and the great central tower had also been erected by 
Bishop Drokensford, soon after the commencement of 
the fourteenth century, in the reign of Edward IIT. 
This at least is Mr. Britton’s conjecture, from the style 
of the architecture. : 

. The interior of the greater part of this cathedral par- 

takes of the massive character which belonged to the 
earliest age of what is called the Gothic style. The 
eastern portion, however, which is of later date, 
is distinguished by much greater lightness. But the 
olory of the cathedral is the Lady Chapel, placed, as 
usual, beyond the choir. Here the columns are formed 
of clusters of the most slender and elegant shafts, crowned 
with capitals of exquisite richness and beauty ; while all 
around is a profusion of the most elaborate ornament. 
As a whole this chapel has been sometimes esteemed 
the most beautiful and perfect gem of ccclesiastical 
architecture in England. 

Many ancient and some sumptuous monuments are 
dispersed over the different parts of the cathedral. Of 
these one of the most remarkable is that of Bishop 
Thomas of Beckington, whe died in 1465, after having, 
during the twenty-two years that he held the see, expended 
large sums on the repair and extension of the cathedral. 
{t is in the choir, and presents a very rich and elaborate 
display of carving and seuipture. 

Uhe cloisters, the chapter-house, ond the bishop’s 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[NoveMBER 9. 


palace, which are in the vicinity of the cathedral, are all 
highly deserving of inspection. The cloisters form a large 
quadrangle attached to the south side of the church, the 
sides measuring severally from 150 to 160 feet in length. 
Over the east side is a large room containing the library 
of the establishment, which was built by Bishop Bubwith 
in the early part of the fifteenth century. The chapter- 
house is a handsome octangular building, of 52 feet 
diameter in the interior, the roof being supported by a 
single central pillar. The episcopal palace, which stands 
at a short distance south from the cathedral, has quite 
the appearance of an old baronial castle. It is a large, 
irregular structure, and is surrounded not only by a lofty 
embattled wall, but also by a broad moat full of water, 
the grand entrance being by a bridge thrown over the 
north side. The entire extent of the inclosed space is 
about seven acres. North-west from the cathedral is 
the deanery-house; and beyond that are twenty houses 
forming what is called the Vicars’ College or Close, an 
establishment consisting of two principals and twelve 
vicars, five of whom are distinguished as seniors, 

The town and cathedral of Wells stand in a valley at 
the foot of the Mendip Hills, near the source of the 
river Ax, and also near that of another spring called 
St. Andrew’s Well, from which the place is supposed to 
derive its name. Hills rise at a little distance nearly all 
around, some being wooded, while others are covered 
only with their native green sward. The cathedral 
forms a striking object as seen from all the great roads 
leading to the city. 


» 


OLD TRAVELLERS.—WILLIAM DAMPIER. 
No. 3.—(Conclusion.) 


Arter reposing for awhile at Juan Fernandez, Dampier, 
his friend Wafer, and the rest of them, cruized off the 
coasts of Peru and Chili, where they took several Spa- 
nish prizes, but met with no very signal success. Dam- 
pier, however, saw with great delight the towering 
mountains and volcanic peaks of the Andes, Judging 
that he was not to make his fortune this trip, (but 
money to him seems always to have been a secondary 
consideration,) he let his passion for seeing new coun- 
tries lead him; and wishine to obtain some knowledge 
of the northern coast of Mexico, he quitted his old com- 
rades and jomed another buccaneer, called Swan, who 
had also found his way into the South Seas, where he 
inteuded cruizing in hopes of capturing the annual 
evalleon from Mexico. The rich Spanish ship escaped 
them, but Dampier obtained and carefully registered the 
knowledge he sought for. After encountering more 
perils than prizes along the shores of Mexico, California, 
and other parts of the American continent, and losing 
fifty of their men who were cut to pieces by the Spaniards 
at Santa Pecaque, Captain Swan and Dampier thoucht 
it would be more to their profit to sail for the East 
Indies. They had some difficulty in persuading the 
ignorant sailors to consent to this, for having never 
heard of such a route to that part of the world, the 
common men thought it impracticable. The science of 
Dampier (who was enraptured at the prospect of so 
new and long a voyage), and the eloquence of Captain 
Swan and other of the officers, triumphed, however, 
over the ignerance of the men; and the Indian voyage 
being determined upon, they made sail for some unin- 
habited islands off the Californian coast, where they 
careenled their ships. During their stay here, Dampier 
underwent an extraordinary process of sand-bakine, 
He says, “ I had been a long time sick of a dropsy, a 
distemper whereof many of our men died; so here 1 
was laid and covered all but my head in the hot sand; 
I endured it near half an hour, and then was taken out 
and laid to sweat ina tent. I did sweat exceedinely 


1833.) 


while I was in the sand, and I do believe it did me much 
good, for I grew well soon after.” 

On the 3lst of March, 1686, these daring mariners 
set out from Cape Corrientes to traverse the vast, and 
then very imperfectly known, Pacific Ocean. The dis- 
tance to the Ladrone Islands, their nearest point, was 
variously calculated by Spanish and English books of 
navigation, at 1900, 2300, and 2400 leagues, Captain 
Swan persuaded his men that the calculation which gave 
the shortest distance was the correct one ;—he assured 
them that Sir Francis Drake and others of our old cir- 
cumnavigators had made the run in less than fifty days, 
and, as ships were better built now than then, he felt 
confident he should reach the Ladrones in little more 
than forty days. The sailors had some need of these 
assurances, for the only provision they had with them 
was a small quantity of Imdian corn; which, at the low 
rate of little more than half a pint for each man per day, 
would only last them sixty days; nor were they at all 
sure, whether, on making the Ladrone Islands, they 
should be able to obtain fresh supplies. ‘ But,’ says 
Dampier, ‘‘ our bold adventurers seldom proceed with 
much wariness,”—and across the Pacific was the 
wealthy Spanish port of Manilla, which blinded them 
to many dangers. During the voyage the buccaneers 
flogged one of their men for stealing, encountered many 
perils, and endured dreadful privations. At last, how- 
ever, on the 20th of May, when the men were half 
starved and mutinous, they saw, to their infinite joy, one 
of the Ladrone Islands before them. ‘‘ And well it was 
for us,” says our traveller, “ that we got sight of it 
before our provision was spent, for, as I was afterwards 
informed, the men had contrived, first, to kill Captain 
Swan and eat him, and after him all of us who were 
accessory in promoting the undertaking of this voyage. 
This made Captain Swan say to me after our arrival, 
‘Ah! Dampier, you would have made them but a 
poor meal!’ for I was as lean as the captain was lusty 
and fleshy.” | 

After staying twelve days at the island they had 
reached so opportunely, and procuring a supply of pro- 
visions and. water, the hardy adventurers shaped their 
course for the Philippine Islands, among which they 
arrived on the 2lst of June, and where they remained 
(chiefly at Mindanao) till the 14th of January. This 
place had so many attractions, that six or eight of the 
buccaneers ran away, resolved to stay there; and as 
Captain Swan lived constantly ashore, showing little 
disposition for future enterprise, and as the mariners 
were suspicious of his projects, they seized the ship and 
sailed away without him, While they were at Mindanao 
the most violent disputes ensued among the freebooters. 
“ The main division was between those that had money 
and those that had none.” ‘ The latter,’ Dampier 
continues, “ grew drunk and quarrelsome ; which dis- 
orderly actions deterred me from going aboard, for I did 
ever abhor drunkenness.” (He was, however, on board 
when the ship sailed.) Sixteen of the men fell victims 
to their intemperance and the jealousy of the natives, and 
were buried near Mindanao river. | - 

The ship was now in the hands of “ a mad crew ;’— 
they seem to have proceeded at random from place to 
place, chiefly between the promontory of Malacca, 
Cochin China, China, and the Philippmes. ‘Though 
this gave Dampier the opportunity of seeing an immense 
deal of the world, and of acquiring much new informa- 
tion, particularly concerning the mysterious Chinese 
empire, he grew weary of lus situation, alarmed at the 
imprudent conduct of his companions, and very anxious 
to escape from them to some English factory in India. 
He was reconciled, however, when he learned that the 
buccaneers intended to sail by a very circuitous route, 
from the Indian Ocean to the Red Sea. ‘‘ I was well 
enouch satisfied;” he says, ‘ knowing’ that the farther 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


game in comparison to this. 


485 


we went, the more knowledge and experience I should 
get, which was the main thing that I regarded.” Such 
were the ardour and constancy of this extraordinary man 
in the pursuit of knowledge. 

Dampier’s associates were, however, by this time so 
unruly and capricious, that there was no counting on 
any plan they made. We find them shortly after loiter- 
ing at the Celebes, then at Timor, and then at Australia 
Incognita or New Holand, which immense country was 
very little known at that time. Whilst staying at New 
Holland, Dampier endeavoured to persuade the men to 
sail for some English factory or establishment in India, 
but they threatened to turn him ashore, and leave him 
among the wretched savages of the island, if he ever 
mentioned the subject again. On this he resolved to 
make his escape from them at some convenient place. 
Sailing from New Holland, they arrived at the island 
of Triste, near to Sumatra, in about a month. This 
would have been a good point of departure for Dampier, 
but he could not compass his escape. He, therefore, 
went on with the ship to the Nicobar Islands in the 
south-east of the Bay of Bengal, and there, with two 
other Enelishmen, was, after much opposition on the 
part of the crew, permitted to remain. He was soon 
after joined by four Malays, belonging to Acheen in 
Sumatra, who, with their proa, had been taken by the 
buccaneers, and were now liberated. Dampier, who, 
like Robert Knox, the captive in Ceylon, had a decided 
commercial turn, and a quick eye to the natural products 
and advantages of a country, thought he saw a prospect 
of establishing a profitable trade in ambergris, which 
abounded in the Nicobars, with the quiet but shy natives, 
and of making thereby a considerable fortune for him- 
self. To carry this into effect, however, it was necessary 
to reach some European settlement, where they could 
procure axes, cloth, and such articles as would be 
acceptable, in way of barter, to the natives, who cared 
not for money as a medium of commercial intercourse. 
They accordingly went in a canoe to the east side of the 
island, and thence, on the 15th of May, 1688, being 
eight individuals crowded in a small and fragile boat, 
they intrepidly started for Acheen in Sumatra. ‘The 
distance was forty leagues, and an open, and frequently 
a most tempestuous sea lay between the two places. 
They were baffled by strong currents, and then exposed 
in their egg-shell of a boat to a fearful storm, which 
Dampier has described with wonderful nature and force. 
‘‘T had been,” he says, ‘‘in many imminent dangers 
before now, but the worst of them all was but a play- 
* * * Other dangers 
came not upon me with. such a leisurely and dreadful 
solemnity. A sudden skirmish or engagement, or so, 


was nothing when one’s blood was up, and pushed for- 


ward with eager expectations. But here | had a lin- 
vering view of approaching death, and little or no hopes 
of escaping it; and I must confess that my courage, 
which I had hitherto kept up, failed me here; and L 
made very sad reflections on my former life, and looked 
back with horror and detestation on actions which 
before I disliked, but now I trembled at the remembrance 
of. I had long before this repented me of my roving 
course of life, but never with such concern as now.” 

The storm at length abated, and after a wonderful 
escape they reached Sumatra, but in a wretched state of 
health. An English captain at Acheen proposed a trip, 
with which, at another time, Dampier would have been 
enchanted: it was to go to Persia, where they were to 
sell the ship, then join the caravans to Aleppo, “‘ and so 
home for England ;’’ but at present his health and 
spirits were sunk, and he thought the end of his wander- 
ines would be a grave in Sumatra. He soon, however, 
rallied; in 1688 he made a voyage to Tonquin, the 
next year another to Malacca, then another to Fort St. 
George, wheuce he returned to Bencouli in Sumatra, 

3 K 2 


436 


where he served for five months as a gunner to the fort 
of an English factory. ‘In all these vicissitudes, in sick- 
ness or in health, Dampier continued to acquire know- 
ledve and keep his journals. Finding the governor of 
the fort at’ Bencouli to be a vulgar tyrant, he determined 
to: leave that’ place. ‘I had other motives also,” he 
says, ‘for my going away; I began to long after my 
native country, after such a ramble from it; and I pro- 
posed no small advantage to myself from my Painted 
Prince.’ 7 | 

‘This painted prince was afterwards well known in 
England,’ where he was’ exhibited for money, and where 
he ‘ultimately.:died (at Oxford) of the small pox. He 
was.the son’of a chief of one of the Spice Islands, but 
having’ been taken by an enemy, and passing through 
several hands as aslave, fell at last into those of an 
English trader, called Moody, who gave Dampier a half 
share in him, aud left him entirely at his disposal. Our 
traveller, in this curious partnership in a human body, 
had larger, views than those of a common showman. 
He says, “ Besides what might be gained by showing 
him in‘England, I was in hopes that, when I had got 
some money, I might there obtain what I had in vain 
sought for in the.Indies, viz.,a ship from the merchants, 
wherewith to carry him back to Meangis and reinstate 
him there in his own country, and by his favour and 
negociation to establish a traffic for the spice. and other 
products of those islands.” 

Accordingly, having made an agreement with a friendly 
captain bound for England, and shipped lis painted 
prince, Dampier, eluding the vigilance of the governor 
of Bencouli, crept through one of the port-holes of the 
fort, got on board the ship, and ‘sailed for home 
(which he had last left in 1678) on the 25th of January, 
1691. - After touching at the Cape of Good Hope and 
the Island of St: Helena, he came to anchor in the 
Downs, on the 16th of September, 1691, having com- 
pleted the circumnavigation of the globe. On reaching 
London he was so poor as to be almost immediately 
obliged to sell his share,in the ‘painted prince, whom he 
affectionately describes as an interesting, amiable savage. 

Part of Dampier’s time, between the period of his 
return to England and his departure on fresh adventures 
in 1698, was employed in compiling from his journals 
and publishing an account of his voyages and travels, 
which appeared in two .straightforward, unostentatious 
volumes, aud were received: as they merited. 

He is next’ heard of as a commander in the king’s 
service of a sloop-of-war, with twelve guns aud fifty men. 
With this vessel, which was disgracefully appointed, and 
with a bad, mutinous crew, Dampier sailed from the 
Downs on the 14th of January, 1695, on a voyage of 
discovery. He went to New Holland, New Guinea, 
Tymor, Java, and numerous other places, ably perform- 
ing the service with which he was entrusted; but on 
his return homeward, the ship, which appears to have 
been rotten from age, foundered at sea, near the unin- 
habited Isle of Ascension. Dampier and his crew with 
difficulty reached the island, where they lived upon wild 
roats and turtle, until an English East Indiaman fortu- 
nately took them up and carried them home. He pub- 
lished an interesting account of part of this voyage, but 
never finished it, “ being obliged,” he says, “ to prepare 
for another voyage sooner than was expected.” ‘This 
is the last we learn of his adventures from himself, for he 
never published again. It has been ascertained, how- 
ever, that he afterwards commanded a ship in the South 

Seas, and then, in the capacity of pilot, accompanied 
Captain Woodes Rogers in a voyage round the world. 
Where the wandering life of this extraordinary man 
terminated—where his ashes were at last laid at rest, 
whether in the great deep, in some island in the Pacific 
or the Indian Ocean, or on “ the small estate in Dorset- 
shire near his native county of Somerset ”—we have not 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


| fingers, while the venerable scribe is mending 


{Novem BER 9, 


been able to discover. A portrait of him is preserved in 
the Trinity House, London. 

His voyages, with ‘ A Discourse of Winds, Breezes, 
Storms, Tides, and Currents,’ have often been reprinted, 
in three volumes, octavo. They are written in strong, 
idiomatic English, and bear evidence of extreme vera- 
city. The nautical portions are highly esteemed by 
professional and scientific men, whilst his descriptions 
of the inhabitants of the numerous countries he visited, 
and of the objects of natural history, are so fresh, clear, 
and yet detailed, that they must delight every reader. 
His style is, indeed, highly: picturesque and aescriptive ; 
his sentiments are generally good and generous ; and 
though he was for so many years the associate of lawless 
men, he preserves a moral tone in his writings. 





ITALIAN LETTER-WRITERS. 


SoME years ago it was no uncommon thing, particularly 
in those parts of London near the river, as Wapping 
and Shadwell, to see stuck in the window of a shop or 
in front of a stall, such inscriptions as ‘‘ Letters written 
here,” ‘ Letters written to all parts of the World, “A 
large assortment of letters on all sorts of subjects to be 
found within,’ &c. &e., ; 
These inscriptions, however, have been gradually dis- 
appearing with the spread of education among the 
people. No doubt there are still many individuals in 
London who cannot write, and that much remains to be 
done in the important branch of popular instruction, 
but it is equally certain that at the present day there 
are few families, even among the poorest, without some 
member of it, or without some friend or neighbour, that 
is qualified. to carry/on its limited correspondence ;— 
and thus the occupation of a general public letter- 
writer is goiig, and is almost gone, from among us in 
London. ™ | ; 
Far different is it at Rome, and still more so at 
Naples. In both these cities a body of men’ not incon- 
siderable.in number, and who have no other occupation 
whatever, gain their bread by writing letters for the 
poor and uneducated classes. These humble yet im- 
portant functionaries—for in no condition of society can 
the faculty of carrying on a correspondence of affection 
or of business by means of letters be considered other- 
wise than important—do not, generally speaking, occupy 
either shop or stall, but ply their labours in the open air. 
Their portable establishment, or stock in trade, consists 
of an old rickety table, with sometimes a desk upon it, 
two low stools, (one for the writer, the other for the cus- 
tomer), a few sheets of paper, some pens, a penknife 
made like a razor and almost as big, a still more oddly- 
shaped inkhorn, and a pair of spectacles, either to aid their 
sight or to give a grave look. Thus furnished they sit 
through the day, ‘generally néar to the post-office, either 
despatching business or waiting for it. ‘The variety of 
subjects they have to discuss is of course almost infinite ; 
but as people are never more inclined to write than 
when they are in love, and as the poor Italians are a 
very loving and (be it said to their honour, and the 
shame of their rich and noble countrymen) a very 
virtuous people, these scribes have, perhaps, love-letters 
to write more frequently than any other kind of epistle. 
The grave, dignified, and sagacious-looking old man 
represented in our engraving, is engaged on that tender 
subject, which contrasts singularly with his years, his 
long white beard, and wrinkled countenance. The 
fair contadina *, kneeling by the side of his table, has 
placed upon it an open letter, in the corner of which we 
read the endearing words “ anima mia,” or “* my soul,” 
and it is doubtless to this she is dictating an answer, 
counting the periods, in true Italian fashion, on her 
his pen 


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[The Roman Letter-Writer. ] 


and catching his theme previously to beginning his 
flourish. The picture from which our wood-cut is taken 


was painted at Rome by Mr. J. P. Davis. The scribe is_ 


no invention of the painter’s, but a well-known cha- 
racter at Rome, where he is probably still to be found, 
as he used to be a few years since, pursuing his vocation 
in fair weather and in foul—acting as the organ of the 
poor and the lowly, with an enviable indifference to all 
the great world around him. Our wood-cut conveys an 
imperfect idea of the picture, which is distinguished for 
the delicacy of expression in the female figures, and the 


beauty of its colouring. Youthful faces bearing the 


same tender earnestness of expression and (particularly 
at Rome) the same degree of poetical beauty—con- 
iadine engaged in precisely the same manner—must 
have struck the eye of every traveller who has not 
confined his attention to operas, conversazioni, and 
picture-galleries, but extended it to what passes in the 
humbler streets and bye-places occupied. by the people : 
—where, as Dr. Johnson observed long ago, national 
character best displays itself. 

To all future trayellers of this kind, or investigators 


of popular manners and feelings, we would recommend 
the stalls of the public letter-writers at Naples, where, 
owing to the people being still less educated than in 
the states of the pope, and the population being more 
than double that of Rome, they abound much more than 
in the “eternal city.” In a vico, or lane, by the side of 
the post-office of Naples, they generally “ plant the 
desk,” as they are there at hand not only to write 
answers but to read the letters as they arrive,—ior the 
accomplishment of reading is almost as rare as that of 
writing among the poor Neapolitans. There, close to 
the iron-grated windows of the post-office through which 
the letters are delivered, the patient scrivanz sit from 
eight o'clock in the morning till the dusk of evening. In 
the lane there is an archway, some few yards in length, 
formed by a building that permits a passage beneath ; 
and here part of them draw their tables to be pretected 
from the scorching rays of the sun in summer, and, 
partially, from the cold in winter. Those who cannot 
avail themselves of this shelter fit out a piece of sail- 
cloth or canvass above their tables when the day is very 
hot. In winter, and there are many cold wintry days 


435 


even at Naples, they wrap themselves in rough old 
tabarri or cloaks, and furnish themselves each with a 
little earthen pot of ignited charcoal, the whole fuel of 
which might very well be contained in a soup-ladle. 

As their customers are, of course, confined to the 
poorest classes,—to soldiers and sailors—their wives or 
sweethearts,—to sheep-drivers from Apulia or buffalo- 
herds from Calabria,—to servant-maids, nurses, and 
such sort of people,—their calling, it will naturally be 
supposed, is not a very lucrative one. Jor a letter of 
ordinary length their charge is about five Neapolitan 
grani, or twopence English; but this is proportionably 
increased to ten or even to fifteen grani; while, for 
petitions to the king or government, which they also 
write, and which the poor, sanguine Neapolitans are 
fond of sending in, though it does not appear tliey get 
much by the practice, they charge as.much as two or 
three carlinz (three carlint make the important sum of 
one shilling English!) Yet with these trifling gains the 
scrivani contrive to live, and, for the most part, to keep 
a family. ‘They eat their maccaroni when they have had 
a good day’s work; and now and then drive about in a 
corribolo or a calesso on holidays. 

In a preceding Number, we: have described the com- 
mon Neapolitans as being a light-hearted, noisy, farcical 
people. ‘The scenes of most frequent occurrence at the 
stands of the letter-writers, where all baw] out their 
private affairs aloud, and show the greatest excitement 
about the smallest trifles, are scenes, to the spectator, of 
downright farce and fun; but occasionally, and not un- 
frequently, these are mingled with exhibitions of thrilling 
passion and pathos. ‘Tlie poor old father, or the mother— 
the wife or the sister—of some sailor or soldier, or poor 
man; long absent, will come running to the scrivano 
with a letter just handed through the bars of the office, 
impatient, breathless, yet afraid to hear him read its 
contents; or, at other tinies, some such persons will 
come in the agonies of grief; displayed with all the 
vivacity of Italian expression of countenance and ges- 
ticulation, to avail themselves of the letter-writer’s pen 
in communicating some fatal intelligence. These things 
combined,—the humour and farce with the occasional 
tragedy of humble life,—render the resort of the scrivani 
a valuable study to the artist, to the poet; and to him who 
would investigate the workings of the humati mind under 
various circtimstances and impressions, and without re- 
straint or disguise. 


MISAPPLIED LABOUR. : 
In all ages the love of overcoming great difficulties, 
without any proportionate end in view, has prevailed in 
a oreater or less degree. Some notice of a few of these 
‘“ impertinences’”’ (as they have been quaintly termed) 
may not be unentertaining to the reader. 

In No. 285 of the ‘ Philosophical Transactions,’ Dr. 
Oliver gives an account of a cherry-stone seen by him, 
in 1687, on which were carved one hundred and twenty- 
four heads so distinctly, that the naked eye could dis- 
tineuish those belonging to popes, emperors, and kings, 
by their mitres and crowns. It was bought in Prussia 
for £300, and thence conveyed to England, where it 
was considered an object of so much value, that its 
possession was disputed, and became the subject of a 
suit in Chancery. In ages far more remote we are told 
of a chariot of ivory, constructed by Mermecides, which 
was so smal] that a fly could cover it with his wmg; and 
also ofa ship, formed of the same materials, which could 
be hidden under the wing of a bee. Pliny tells us, that 
the ‘ Iliad of Homer,’ an epie poem of fifteen thousand 
verses, was written in so small a space as to be contained 
in a uutshell ; while Elian mentions an artist who wrote 
x distich in letters of gold, which he enclosed in the rind 
of a grain of corn. In our own country, in the reign 
of Queen Elizabeth, similar feats ofpenmanship were 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


[NovemBER 9, 


performed. ‘The Harleian MS., 530, mentions “ a rare 
piece of work brought to pass by Peter Bales, an Eng- 
lishman, a clerk of Chaticery:” this was the whole 
Bibie contained ‘ ina large Jinelish walnut no bigger 
than a hen’s ege; the nut holdeth the book; there are as 
many leaves in his book as the great Bible, and he hath 
written as much in one of his little leaves as a great leaf of 
the Bible.’ This wonderful performance, we are informed, 
‘“was seen by many thousands.” In the Curiosities of 
Literature’ we meet with many other accounts of similar 
ingenious exploits, which show what perseverance may 
effect, although they lead us to regret that so mucli 
industry and talent should have been so ill bestowed. 

There is a drawing of the head of Charles II. in the 
library of St. John’s College at Oxford, wholly composed 
of minute written characters, which at a small distance 
resemble the lines of an engraving. ‘The lines of the 
head and the ruff are said to contain the Book of Psalms, 
the Creed, and the Lord’s Prayer. In the British 
Museum is a portrait of Queen Anne, not much above 
the size of the hand. On this drawing are a number of 
lines and scratches, which, it is asserted, include the entire 
contents of a thin folio; which is there also to be seen. 

The present ave does not offer s0 many proofs of ill- 
directed industry and frivolous performances. Some 
object of utility is now generally proposed; and the 
rapid improvements which are daily being made in every 
branch of art, and the continual additions we in coiise- 
quence receive to our means of comfort dnd convenience, 
seem to prove that the pursuits of the ingenious are 
more generally directed to objects of real benefit. 

It is not enough to exert indtistry and perseverance ; 
these are but the tools with which we work out some 
creat end: the mind niust be enlightened to direct and 
use these tools to good purpose, for the advantage of the 
workman ahd for the general good. 


CAPACITY OF BODIES FOR WATER: 

As it may be interesting to many to know the com- 
parative as well as the positive absorption of water by 
various bodies; we subjoir. the following table, the details 
of which were made’ with care. The weight of each 
suibstance was ascertained before inimersion ; next, wlien 
the water ceased running and began to drop ; and; lastly, 
when all dropping had ceased, arid the bodieS were in 
that state in which they may be supposed to be full of 
moisture. 


Weighed. Dry. Dripping. Done Dripping. 
Flannel _ 444 gts, 1553 gts. 700 grs. 
Woollen Cloth 56 ,, 3/0 (=*5, ID) @, 
Linen mF 2110 ,, 1050 _—,, 
Calico lho)... 1150 & 450 », 
Cambric Muslin 95 ,, Sea8 & 307 ,, 
Very fine do. 5) ee 415) 5) . 2a 
Glove Leather 106 ,, 1170 _—,, 7; 
Kid do. 17D 11 Oeoyj 421 ,, 
Shoe do. Is. S 194 ,, aL 
Sponge » de ae 2440 ,, 2070 ,, 


From these data the following table may be con: 
structed, to show in the first instance the absorbing 
powers, and, in the second place, the retaining powers, for 
moisture, of the various bodies thus experimented upon 

Flannel absorbed 11 and retamed 5 tinies its weight of water 


Woollen Cloth 64 6 34 * 
Linen Cloth 02 re * 
Calico 10 '; BT %3 
Cambric Mushn 9 - 31 ; 
Fine Muslin 13 3 5 9 
Glove Leather 11 43 64 ” 
Kid do. Ai br 22 9 
Shoe do. 2 . 2 Jess a fraction 
Sponge 13 3 ll ” 


From these results, it may be seen, that although 
some substances, in the first instance, take up an equal, 
or nearly an equal quantity of water with the spouige, 
such as the flannel, fine muslin, and glove-leather, yet 
their powers of retaining the same are very far inferior. 


1833.] 


AN ARMENIAN MARRIAGE AT CONSTANTI- 
NOPLE. 


(From a Correspondent.) 


Some time since I gave you an account of a Greek 


wedding in Asia Minor; the ceremonies attending an 
Armenian marriage in the same country, at Constanti- 
nople, and all over the East, are still more curious. They 
are much too long and tedious to be given in detail, but 
I will endeavour to point out some of their most 
amusing peculiarities. The Armenians, who are an 
industrious, thrifty, and quiet people, are very numerous 
in Turkey: they are Christians, but divided into two 


classes; the most numerous adhering to the doctrine of 


the old Armenian church, or what is termed the heresy 
of Eutyches, and the minor class professing the religion 
of the church of Rome. The account of a marriage 
which I propose to give of course applies only to the 
former class. 

These Armenians keep their wives and daughters as 
much apart from all male society as the Turks do theirs. 
When abroad their women are veiled and muffled up, so 
as to be distinguished from the Turkish fair only by the 
different colours of their slippers and robes. Indeed the 
whole of their domestic economy (except in not admitting 
a plurality of wives) and their manner of living differ 
in scarcely anything from those of the Turks. Court- 
ship and attachment before marriage are, therefore, things 
unknown among them. 

When a young man is to be married, his mother selects 
the bride; and matters being arranged between the two 
families, an interchange of presents ratifies the treaty and 
forms the betrothal. The nature of these presents is 
strictly regulated by ancient law and usage, and each 
present, as it passes, is blessed by a priest. 

After two days of feasting and ceremony, on the 
morning of the third day the bridegroom, accompanied 
by all his relatives and friends, goes to fetch his bride 
from her father’s house to hisown. On their meeting, 
his father-in-law presents him with a bright new watcn, 
and his mother-in-law and her nearest relations hang 
pieces of gold tinsel to his calpack or great hat. He is 
then introduced to his bride, who sits immoveable on a 
low sofa in a corner of the room, and so completely 
covered with dresses, that not so much as the poiut of a 
finger or of her slipper is visible. A thick white linen 
veil, only used on this solemn occasion, and called a 
perkem, is thrown over her head; and over this again is 
thrown another veil, composed of tinsel and thin lamina 
of gold, or sheets of gilt paper. ‘The only part of the 
bride left uncovered is her hair: this flows down, and, 
joined to a mass of false hair, rests upon the sofa. 

The officiating priest raises the bride from the sofa, 
leads her, blindfolded as she is, to the centre of the 
room, and there, pronouncing a blessing over them, 
places her hand in that of the bridegroom. All present 
then form in order of procession. A priest goes first, 


carrying a lighted torch, then follows the bridegroom, 


and the march is closed by the bride, who, unable to see 
her way, is led by two female relatives. On arriving at 
the bridegroom’s house the bride is smoked with incense, 
burning in a silver dish, and then sprinkled with rose- 
water. After this, she is led into an inner room and 
left alone with the females. 

The bridegroom proceeds to another apartment, where 
a barber is ready to shave him. As the Armeniauis 
shave all their head like the Turks, this is rather a long 
process. When it is finished the priest produces his 
wedding suit of clothes, and blesses each article as he 
presents it. As soon as the happy man is attired he is 
re-conducted to his bride, who then rises from the sofa, 
and after being enveloped by the matrons in an immense 


shawl called a duvack, or coverall, advances to meet 


him in the middle of the room. 
There the priest again joins their hands, and knocks 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


439 


their foreheads gently together. Two assistant priests 
then place in the centre of the apartment a table, on 
which are two wax-lights (like the torches of Hymen 
in the ceremonial of the ancient Greeks and Romans), 
The priests then chant some passages from the Gospel 
in Armenian. While this chanting proceeds, one of 
the family holds a large crucifix over the bridegroom and 
bride, who again touch foreheads, and so continue to 
lean against each other. When the priest has done 
singing, he produces two silken strings precisely alike, 
each being made of a thread of white silk, interwoven 
with a thread of rose-coloured silk. ‘The first of these 
he ties round the brow of the bridegroom, immediately 
over whom the crucifix is then held, and puts these 
singular questions, making a solemn pause between each. 

‘¢ If she is blind, thou acceptest her?” 

“If she is lame, thou acceptest her?” 

‘If she is hump-backed, thou acceptest her?” 

The bridegroom’s brief response is ‘‘ I accept.” 

The priest then ties the second silken string round 
the head of the bride, who at the moment stands under 
the crucifix, and says, 

“Thou acceptest.”’ 

Her answer is, “ I accept.” 

On this all present shower small pieces of money on 
the couple, the cross is waved triumphantly over their 
heads, the priests again chant, the wax torches are ex- 
tineuished, and the pair are man and wile. 

The husband and all the men then quit the apartment. 
During their absence the matrons remove the duvack, 
and some of the robes, under which the bride is almost 
suffocated. Ata given signal the husband is re-admitted, 
the matrons withdraw the linen veil, and then for the 
first time he sees the features of his wife. He is, how- 
ever, only favoured with a glance. All the company are 
admitted ; and though the linen veil is not again drawn, 
her head is covered with the tinsel and gold sheets. All 
the females invited to the festival then approach the sofa 
where the bride is seated, kiss her, and put some present 
into her hand. After this all her male relations to the 
remotest degree are permitted to raise the tinsel, and 
eaze for a moment at the bride’s face, and to kiss her 
hand, into which every one of them puts a present. A 
feast then commences, and with a series of eastern 
amusements in which there is little variety, continues for 
three days with scarcely any interruption. All this time 
the bride remains mute and motionless on the sofa. It 
would be the height of indecorum for her to speak a 
word, even in a whisper, to any other person than an 
old matron, sometimes her nurse, who has accompanied 
her from her paternal roof. ‘The Armenians, who are 
eenerally a frugal, abstemious people, eat and drink 
immoderately on these occasions. Many of the dishes 
are reeulated by old laws. 

‘Towards the conclusion of the third day, the principal 
officiating priest repairs to the bride, and having 
summoned the bridegroom to his presence, he with great 
solemnity removes the silken string which he had tied 
round the head of each, and carries away the tinsel veil 
which had hitherto concealed the lady's features. 

After this the wife is left for the first time with her 
husband, and permitted to speak; but, according to the 
old laws, she is not to open her lips for a whole twelve- 
month in the presence of her mother-in-law or her married 
sister-in-law. The ancient Armenian rescript is positive 
on this head; and though the harsh rule is now, at 
least at Constantinople, relaxed in practice, the young 
wife must maintain a show of profound respect and 
absolute submission to her husbaud’s relatives. 

Perhaps no people in the world are more attachied to 
their old national laws and usages than the Armenians. 
A custom, if it is ancient, has with them the force ols a 
religious dogma, and is as much venerated. ven the 
marriages of the poor are not relieved from these cere- 


440 THE PENNY 
monials; but as the poor cannot afford the means, the 
Armenian church and the rich of its communion come to 
their aid, and lend the robes, dresses, &c., and furnish 


materials for the long feast, rather than suffer their old | 


customs to be infringed. Every Armenian church has a 
depét of pots and pans, plates and dishes, to lend to the 
poor on these occasions. 

In M. Picard’s great work on ceremonies, and religious 
customs, in the works of Tournefort and other eastern 
travellers, the reader may find circumstantial, and _ still 
more extraordinary accounts of Armenian weddings. 
The memoirs of Artemi (a native Armenian), which were 
published in English a few years since, also afford some 
curious and authentic particulars, , 


; PULQUE. 
(Abridged rom Black's Translation of ‘ Humbeldi’s New Spain.’) 


TueEre hardly exists a race of savages upon the face of 
the earth who-cannot prepare some kind of beverage 
from the vegetable kingdom: yet there are few nations 
who cultivate certain plants merely with a view to pre- 
pare beverages from them. ‘The most part of civilized 
nations draw their drinks from the same plants which 
constitute the basis.of their nourishment; and the old 
continent ‘affords us no instance of vine plantations but 
to the west of the Indus. But in the new continent we 
have the example of a people who not only extract liquors 
from the amylaceous aud sugary substance of the maize, 
the manioc, ‘and bananas, or from the pulp of several 
species of mimosa, but who cultivate expressly a plant of 
the family of the ananas, to convert its juice into a spi- 
rituous liquor, which is called‘ Pulqne. On the interior 
table land, and in the intendency of Puebla, and in that 
of Mexico, through a vast extent of country, the eye 
reposes only on fields planted with pittes or maguey. 
This plant, of a.coriaceous and prickly leaf, which, with 
the cactus opuntia, has become wild since the sixteenth 
century throughout all the south of Europe, the Canary 
Islands, and the Coast of Africa, gives a peculiar cha- 
racter to the Mexican landscape. 

The agaves are planted in rows at a distance of fifty- 
eight inches from each other. ‘The plants only begin 
to yield the juice which goes by the name of honey, on 
account of the sugary principle with which it abounds 
when the hampe is on the point of its development. 
And’as the plant is destroyed if the incision be made 
long before the flowers would naturally have developed 
themselves, it is Of great importance for the cultivator to 
know exactly the period of efflorescence. Its proximity 
is announced by appearances which the experienced 
cultivator readily understands. He goes daily through 
his plantations to mark the plants that approach efflo- 
rescence ; and if he has any'doubt he applies to the 
experts of the village—old Indians, who, from longer 
experience, have a judgment or rather tact more securely 
to be relied on. 

About the age of eight years in general, but in good 
soils so early as five, and in bad not till eighteen, a 
maguey begins to give signs of the development of its 
hampe. ‘They then prepare to collect the juice of which 
the pulaue is made. ‘They cut the bundle of central 
leaves and enlarge, ‘insensibly, the wound, covering it 
with lateral leaves, which they raise by drawing them ' 
close and tying them at the extremities. In this wound 
the vessels appear to deposit all the juice which would 
have formed the colossal hampe loaded with flowers. 
This is a true vegetable spring that keeps running for 
two or three months, and ‘from which the Indian draws 
three or four times a-day. We may judge of the quick- 
ness or slowness of the motion of the juice by the quan- 
tity of honey extracted from the maguey at different 
times of the day: a plant commonly yields, in twenty- 
four hours, 242 cubic inches, nearly equal to eight pints, 


MAGAZINE. [November 9, 1838, 
of which three are obtained at sun-rise, two at mid-day, 
and three at six in the evening. . A very vigorous plant 
sometimes yields about seven quarts, or 454 cubic inches, 
per day for from four to five months, which amounts to 


| the enormous quantity of 67,130 cubic inches, supplied 


by a plant scarcely five feet in height. | 

The honey, or juice of the agave, is of a very agreeable 
sour taste. It easily ferments on account of the sugar 
and mucilage which it contains. ,To accelerate this 
fermentation they add, however, a little old and acid 
pulque. .This operation is terminated in three or four 
days. ‘The vinous beverage, which resembles cider, 
has an odour of putrid meat, extremely disagreeable ; 
but Europeans who have been able to get over the 
aversion which this fetid odour inspires, prefer the 
pulque to any other liquor. They consider it as stoma- 
chic, strengthening, and especially as very nutritive ; 
and it is recommended to lean persons. a" 

A very intoxicating brandy is formed from the pulque, 
which is called mexical or aguardiente de maguey, and 
though the Spanish colonial government prohibited its 
use, as prejudicial to. the Spanish brandy trade, such 
quantities of it were manufactured,, that’ the whole 
importation of brandy into Mexico alone amounted to 
32,000 barrels. (me ‘~:* 

But the maguey is not only, the wine of the Aztecs, it 
can also supply the place of the hemp of Asia, and the 
papyrus of the Egyptians, The paper on which the 
ancient Mexicans puinted their hieroglyphical figures 
was made of the fibres of agave leaves, macerated in 
water, and disposed in layers like the Egyptian papyrus, 
and the mulberry of the South Sea Islands... M. Hum- 
boldt brought home with, him several fragments: of 
Aztec manuscripts written on maguey papers of a 
thickness. so different ;that some of them resembled 
pasteboard, while others resembled Chinese paper. "The 
thread which is obtained from the maguey is known in 
Europe by the name,of pite thread, and is preferred by 
naturalists, to every other, because it is less: subject to 
twist. . ‘The juice which the agave yields, when it is still 
far from the period of efflorescence, is very acid, and is 
successfully employed as a caustic in the cleansing ot 
wounds, ‘The prickles which terminate the leaves served 
formerly, like those of the cactus, for pins and nails to 
the Indians, . 


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*e" The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. " 


LONDON :—CHARLES ‘KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET 
AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST, ‘ 


| Pcinted by Wittray Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth,. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[NovemBer 16, 1833, 





ETON COLLEGE. 


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OF our: three creat public schools, Eton, Westminster, 
and Winchester, the first has always been considered to 
hold the highest rank. It is the only one of the three 
to which it is usual to give the name of a College. It is, 
we believe, the richest foundation of the three. 

Windsor and Eton, though situated on opposite sides 
of the Thames and in different counties, form in appear- 
ance only one town. ‘The bridge over the river is the 
only interruption to the dine of houses. At the farther ex- 
tremity of the town of Eton, and separated from it, stands 
the college. The buildings ofthis institution,—the 


“ antique towers, 
That crown the watery glade,” 


show best from a distance, where they are set off by 
the natural beauties of their situation. They form a 
conspicuous and highly ornamental object in the 
splendid view from the terrace of Windsor Castle. Seen 


from their immediate neighbourhood, they are not very 
Vou. II. 





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. [Quadrangle of Eton College. } 


imposing. They consist of two quadrangles, built partly 
of freestone, but chiefly of brick, in a style somewhat 
resembling that of the north front of St. James's palace. 
In the one quadrangle are the school and the chapel, 
with the lodgings for the scholars; the other contains the 
library, the ‘provost’s house, and the apartments of the 
fellows. The chapel, which is built of stone, is the part 
in which the architecture is most ambitious ; it is exter- 
nally a handsome structure, though very plain in the 
interior. ‘It is one hundred and seventy-five feet in 
length, including an ante-chapel which 3s ‘sixty-two feet 
long. In the centre of the first-mentioned quadrangle 
stands a bronze statue of Henry VI. which was erected 
in the early part of the last century by Dr. Godolphin, 
the provost of the college. There is another statue of 
the same king in the chapel, the work of the late John 
Bacon. 

Eton College was founded by Henry VI. The founda- 

3 


» | 


442 


tion charter is dated at Windser,’on the twelfth of Sep- 
tember, in the nineteenth year of his reign, that 1s, 1n 
the year 1440. The original establishment was a pro- 
vost, ten priests, four clerks, six choristers, twenty-five 
poor grammar scholars, and the like number of poor 
men, it now consists of a provost, six other fellows, 
two schoolmasters, two conducts, seven clerks, seventy 
kine’s scholars, ten choristers, and a number of inferior 
officers and servants. Besides the scholars on: the 
foundation, the school is always attended by a much 
larger number of others, called oppidans. ‘The oppidans 
generally amount to between 300 and 400, and have 
exceeded 500. 

From the seventy king’s scholars a certain number are 
annually selected and put on a roll for admission to 
King’s Collere, Cambridge. The election is made, after 
examination of the upper class, by the provost and two 
fellows of King’s College, assisted by the provost, 
vice-provost, and head master of K:ton. + The suc- 
cessful candidates, however, are not immediately trans- 
ferred to Cambridge, but remain at school until va- 
cancies occur on the foundation of King’s College. ‘The 
supply is prevented from ontrunning the demand by 
the regulation that at the age of nineteen an HKtomian 
is superannuated, as it is called, or is not allowed to 
remain longer at school. On their removal to Cam- 
bridge the Eton scholars are received on the foundation 
of the college and maintained from its finds ; and after 
three years they succeed to fellowships. Here then is 
an opportunity by which the poorest man’s son may 
obtain the best education which-the conntry affords, and 
be put on the road to the highest preferments in the 
national church. The admission to Eton is not clogged 
with any necessity for patronage ; although the incidental 
charges attending the education of a king’s scholar are 
ereater than is compatible with the character of a cha- 
ritable foundation. 

Mr. Britton, in the second volume of his ‘ Archi- 
tectural Atitiquities of Great Britain,’ has printed, from 
manuscripts in the British Museum, some accounts of 
the expenditure on the building of Eton College, which 
curiously illustrate wages and prices in former times. 
The work appears to have been commenced in the 
beginning of July, 1441. ‘The first week there were 
employed seventeen carpenters, seven stone-masons, 
fifteen sawyers, and thirty-one cominon labourers. In 
the second week two more masons aiid twenty-five more 
labourers were added. By Decetitber we find thirty-five 
free masons and two row inmasons employed. ‘lhe wages 
of masons and carpenters were sixpence a-day, and 
those of labourers two-pence. Mariy days were lost, 
however, both to the men and to the progress of the 
work, as being holydays of the church. ‘The first year 
the entire expenditure was usually from £6 to £9 per 
week. The second year there was paid for labour alone 
£712 19s. ld., and for materials £1447 4s: ‘That 
year 457 tous of stone were imported from Caen, in 
Normandy, which appear to have been paid for at the 
rate of 5s. Sd. per ton at the quarry, 4s. more for 
carriage to London, and Is. 4d. more for carriage to 
Eton: the total cost, therefore, was lls. per ton. Most 
of our old buildings, we may remark, from the Conquest 
down to the end of the fifteenth century, were constructed 
of stone from Caen. The portion of Eton College which 
is of brick was not begun till 1443. That year 100,000 
bricks were used, which cost 10d. the thousand. In five 
years there were consumed 1,637,750 bricks. The brick- 
kiln was near Slough, in a-field now the property of 
the College, but which was-then rented. at twenty 
shillings per annum, The building suffered considerable 
interruptions before it was completed; and the great 
tower gateway, indeed, called Lupion’s Tower, which 
was the last part erected, was not finished till the year 
1523, in the reign of Henry-VILLI, - 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{NovemBen 16, 


THE ICELANDERS.—No. 1. 

In arecent Number of our Magazine an allusion was 
made to the: love of reading and*civilization common to 
the inhabitants of the poor and sterile island of Iceland. 
We now propose to give a short account of that-interest- 
ing people, who, under alinost every physical disadvan- 
tage, attained the inestimable advantages of weneral 
civilization at an earlier period than any of the more 
favoured nations of modern Emrope. 

A glance at the map will sufficiently explain the geo- 
graphical position of Iceland, lying far to the north of 
the Shetland and the Ferro Isles, within two hundred 
miles of Greenland. ‘The first discovery of the island, 
authenticated by history, was made about the year 860, 
by some adventurous Norwegian and Swedish rovers. 
At that time Norway was a separate state, governed by 
a king of its own. Its inhabitants were a branch of the 
ereat Teutonic family. About fourteen years after the dis- 
covery of Iceland, the reigning sovereign of Norway made 
encroachments on the freedom of his subjects. To these 
many would not submit, preferring rather to emigrate 
to the uninhabited and unfruitful island. The first 
colony took possession of part of the coast of Iceland, 
about the year $75. . Soon afterwards the same love of 
liberty drove other Norwegians to the same stormy 
shores, and in the conrse of a few years the strength of 
the infant state was further increased by many families 
of Danes and Swedes, and by a few Scotch and Irish 
einigrants. The Icelandic historians have carefully pre 
served the names of these Scotch and Irish. 

There are some grounds for believing that the climate 
of Iceland was theri somewhat less inclement thati now, 
but it is to be doubted whether corn ever grew there. 
Many parts of the island, however, when not covered 
with snow, offered good pasturage ; and thé surrounding 
sea teemed with fish of various sorts, from the herring 
to the whale, which not only furnished food, but oil ‘to 
enliven the eloom of the long, dark winter of the new 
settlers. At their first settlement the Icelanders were 
only shepherds and fishermen. In this condition, and 
long before numerous concurrent circumstances produced 
such a system in any other part of Europe; the Icelanders 
formed a representative government. “The possession 
of property gave any man a vote: by mental attainments 
and moral conduct any free man could aspire to civil 
influence and dignity in the state; but by degrees many 
of the chief offices were made hereditary in families of 
ancient or celebrated lineage, and a somewhat exclusive 
aristocracy was established. Beyond the circle of 
eovernment, however, the rights of every free Icelander 
were most scrupulously respected. The Althing, or 
national assembly, met every year on the shores of the 
lake Thinevalla, and there, in the open air, deliberated 
on the measures to be adopted for the common good. 
A Laugman, or president, in whom was vested the exe- 
cutive power, was elected, and displaced at the pleasure 
of the assembly. 

During the summer months, these hardy men tended 
their flocks, tilled patches of the rude soil of the island, 
and fished in the stormy sea; but winter brought a 
long season of darkness and necessary repose. ‘lo 
lizhten the tedium of that oppressive season, they recited 
to their families assembled round the fire and the lamp, 
the descent and noble deeds of. their ancestors, and de- 
scribed in Runic verse the lands whence they had come 
to Iceland in pursuit of freedoin. 

They had brought with them this love of genealogy 
and poetry, which was indeed common to the Nor- 
wemians, Danes, and all the Teutonic tribes; ‘but in 
the sunless winters of Iceland, where they had scarcely 


any other amusement or resource, they indulged in it far 


more thau they had done when occupying a happier 


| climate.. The effect of this was seen in the improvement 


-1833.] 


_of their poetry and their chronicles. Iu course of time, 

this excellence was rumoured abroad, and the skalds, or 
bards of Iceland, were invited to. fereign courts. ‘The 
princes of Eneland, Ireland, Sweden, Denmark and 
Norway, after entertaining them most honourably, dis- 
missed them with wealth. “Thus,” says Dr. Holland, 
“literature became with the Icelanders a species of 
commerce, in which the fruit of their mental endowment 
was exchanged for those foreien luxuries or comforts 
which nature had denied to them from their own soil *.” 
As fishermen, the Icelanders were bold sailors; seamen 
‘were necessary to carry the skalds to the distant courts, 
and in this service their nautical skill was enlarged. 
Soon after, traders went in the train of the poets, and 
thus obtained for the island the advantages of an in- 
creased and increasing: foreign commerce. 

In the year 1000, these interesting people were 
converted to Christianity. About fifty years after, 
their first bishop founded their first school or. college, 
aud then the Roman alphabet was substituted for 
the rude and defective Runic characters. Three other 
schools soon followed, and the monasteries, which 
Were now first erected, were so many places of educa- 
tion. During the latter half of the eleventh and the 
whole of the twelfth century, the Latin classics were 
diligently taught in these seminaries; and some of the 
poor, remote Icelanders even studied Greek. The 
mechanical scieuces, mathematics, and astronomy, of 
which they felt the want in proportion as they extended 
their maritime adventures, were also cultivated with 
assiduity. ay 

In the middle of the thirteenth century, numerous 
jealousies and dissensions having broken out among the 
chief aristocratic families, the island was, by agreement, 
transferred to the Norwegian Kings. In 1380, Norway 
itself ceased to be an independent kingdom: it was 
annexed fo Denmark, and Iceland went with it. Both 
these transfers seem to have been effected without any 
violent shock, and to have produced few and very slight 
changes in the laws and government of the country. It 
was owing to circumstances entirely foreign to these 
political changes that Iceland lost her literary supremacy, 
which had been almost a monopoly in the north of 
Europe. The fact wassimply this,—other countries had 
awakened from their sleep of barbarism, and begun to 
cultivate letters and sciences. : 
. In 1402, a dreadful plague carried off two-thirds of. 
the inhabitants of Iceland; this calamity.was followed 
by a winter so severe, that not one-tenth part of: their 
cattle survived it, and this loss again was followed by 
the depredations of certain barbarous English pirates. 
There was a consequent depression both in the moral 
and physical state of these unfortunate. islanders, but 
neither then nor at any other period did they relapse into 
indolence and ignorance. 

Lhey struggled manfully with the evils that beset 

them, persevering in an enlichtenéd system of internal 
policy, in liberal methods of education, and in a quiet, 
steady line of moral, blameless conduct. 
. The Icelanders received their first printing press in 
1530, and the reformation of their religion soon followed 
its introduction... Their types were at first made of 
wood, and very rudely formed. In 1574, one of their 
bishops made great improvements in the printing esta- 
blishment, providing new presses and types, some of 
which he made with his own hands. Before the con- 
clusion of the sixteenth century, many valuable books, 
well printed, were published and sold through the 
country. 

Lhe rough, unpromising coasts of the island continued 
to be visited by pirates. As late as 1616 they suffered 
much from certain English and French freebooters, 
—- Taserted in Sir George Steuart Mackenzie’s * Travels in Ice- 

nd. . ! oe 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


a perpetual feast. 


443 


who must indeed have been monsters to plunder a people 
at once so poor and so inoffensive. A stil] heavier calamity 
befell them in 1627, when some Algerines found their 
way to this remote island, aud lauding on the southern 
coast, committed the greatest atrocities. his is one of 
the saddest pages in the history of the simple, yet 
enlightened Icelanders. EKorty or fifty of them were 
butchered, and nearly four hundred of both sexes were 
carried off to the Mediterranean and sold as slaves. 
Nine years after, when the King of Denmark obtained 
their lhberty by ransom, only thirty-seven of the four 
hundred were found alive, and of these thirty-seven only 
thirteen ever reached their native land. 

in Iceland the eighteenth century was ushered in by 
a dreadful mortality from small-pox, and about fifty 
years later, above ten thousand deaths were occasioned 
by a famine. . In 1788, volcanic eruptions, more terrific 
than had ever been seen, burst out in every direction. 
Deep vivers were filled up by lava; the cattle and the 
pastures were every where destroyed, and for more 
than a year a dense cloud of smoke and volcanic ashes 
covered the whole of the island. Even the sea was con- 
taminated ; the fisheries were destroyed, nor have they yet 
entirely recovered from the effects of those mighty con- 
vulsions. Famine and the small-pox following in the 
track of this desolation, destroyed a fourth part of the 
population. The island had scarcely begun to breathe 
from these calamities, when, asa dependence of Denmark, 
it found itself involved in the miseries of the last war, 
and saw its commerce, now indeed limited, but abso- 
lutely necessary to the existence of its inhabitants, 
interrupted by the powerful navy of Great Britain. 

Lo the honour of our government, they sent instruc- 
tions to our cruizers to respect, and in no ways molest,. 
the inhabitants of the Ferro Islands, who were in a 
situation even worse and more lielpless than that of the 
Icelanders ; at a later period they even granted licenses 
to ships to trade with Iceland. 

lew countries have ever been visited by such a series 
of misfortunes as this, and yet between 1650 and 1810, 
Iceland produced from two to three hundred respectable 
authors. . 

(To be concluded in the next Number. ] 





THE MOCKING-BIRD. 
(Abridged from Hilson’s * American Ornithology.’) 

Turis celebrated and very extraordinary bird, which, in 
extent aud variety of vocal powers, stands unrivalled by 
the whole feathered songsters of America or perhaps 
any Other country, is peculiar to the New World; and 
inhabits a very considerable extent of both North and 
South America, having been traced from the States of 
New England to Brazil, and also among inany of the 
adjacent islands. They are, however, much more 
numerous in those States south than-those north of the 
river Delaware; being generally migratory in the latter, 
and resident (at least many of them) in the former. A 
warm chmate, and low country not far from the sea, 
seems most congenial to their nature; the species are 
accordingly found to be less numerous to the west than 
east of the great range of Alleghany, in the same 
parallels of latitude. In these regions the berries 
of the. red cedar, .myrtle, holly, many species of 
smilax, together with gum berries, gall berries, and a 
profuse variety of others, abound, and furnish them with 
Winged insects also, of which they 
are very fond: and very expert. m catching, are there 
plentiful even in tle winter season, 

‘The precise time at which the inccking-bird begins to 
build his nest varies according to the latitude in which 
he resides, from the beginning of April, to the middle 
of May. ‘Lhere are particular situations to which he 
gives the preference, A solitary _— almost 

32 


444 


impenetrable thicket, an orange-tree, cedar, or holly- 
bush, are favourite spots and frequently selected. It is 
no great objection to the bird that a farm or mansion- 
house happens to be near; always ready to defend, but 
never over-anxious to conceal, his nest, he very often 
builds within a small distance of the house, and not un- 
frequently in a pear or apple-tree, rarely at a greater 
height than six or seven feet from the ground. ‘The 
nest varies a little according to the conveniency of col- 
lecting suitable materials. Generally it is composed 
of, first, a quantity of dry twigs and sticks, then withered 
tops of weeds of the preceding year, intermixed with 
fine straw, hay, pieces of wool and tow; and, lastly, a 
thick layer of fine fibrous roots, of a light brown colour, 
lines the whole. .'The female sits fourteen days, and 
wenerally produces two broods in the season, unless 
robbed of her.eges, in which case she will even build 
aud Jay the third time.’ She is, however, very jealous 
of :her nest, and very apt to forsake it if much disturbed. 

During the period of incubation, neither cat, dog, 
animal nor man can approach the nest without being 
attacked. The cats, in particular, are persecuted when- 
ever they make .their appearance, till obliged to retreat. 
But his whole vengeance is more particularly.directed 
against that mortal enemy of his eggs and young, the 
black snake. ‘ Whenever .the insidious approaches of 
this reptile are discovered, the male darts upon it with 
the rapidity of an arrow, dexterously eluding its bite 
and-striking: it violently and incessantly about the head, 
where it is very vulnerable. The snake soon becomes 
sensible of its.danger, and’ seeks to escape; but the 
lutrepid defender of his young redoubles his exertions, 
and, unless his antagonist be of great magnitude, often 
succeeds in destroying ‘him. All his pretended powers 
of fascination avail it nothing against the vengeance of 
this noble bird. As the snake’s strength begins to flag, 
the mocking-bird seizes and lifts it up partly from the 
ground, beating it with its wings, and when the business 
is completed, he returns to the nest of his young, mounts 


the summit of the bush, and pours forth a torrent of 


song in token of victory. 

The mocking-bird is 9} inches long aud 13 across 
when its wings are spread. Some individuals are, how- 
ever, lareer and some smaller, those of the first hatch 
being uniformly the largest. The upper parts of the head, 
neck, and back, are a dark brownish ash, and when new 
moulted, a fine light grey; the wings and tail are nearly 
black, the first and second rows of coverts tipped with 
white ; the primary, in some males, are wholly white, in 
vthers tinged with brown. The three first primaries are 
white from their roots as far as their coverts; the white 
on the next six extends from an inch to one and three- 
fourths farther down, descending equally on each side 
the feather; the tail is cuneiform; the two exterior 
feathers wholly white, the rest, except the middle ones, 
tipped with white; the chin is white; sides of the 
ueck, breast, belly, and vent, a brownish-white, much 
purer.in wild birds than in those that have been domes- 
ticated ; tris of the eye, yellowish-cream coloured, in- 
clining to golden; bill blacks; the base of the lower 
mandible whitish ; legs and feet black and strong. The 
female much resembles the male, and is only distin @uish- 
able by the white of her wings being less pure and 
broad, and her black feathers having a more rusty 
hie. 


It will be seen from this description, that though the. 


plumage of the mocking bird is none of the homeliest, 
it has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it; and, had he 
nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle 
hin to notice, But. his ‘figure is well proportioned and 
even handsome. ‘The ease, ‘elegance, and rapidity of 
his movements, the animation of his eye, and the in- 
telligence he displays in listening and laying up lessons, 
from almost every species of the teathered creation 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


[November 16, 


| within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the 


peculiarity of his genius. ‘To these qualities may be 
added that of a voice full, strong, and musical, and 
capable of almost every modulation, from the clear, 
mellow tones of the wood-thrush to the savage scream 
of the bald eagle. In measure and accent he faithfully 
follows his originals ; in force aud sweetness of expres- 
sion he greatly improves upon them. Jn his native 
groves, mounted on the top of a tall bush or half-erown 
tree, inthe dawn of the morning, while the woods are 
already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his admira- 
ble song rises pre-eminent over every competitor. . The 
ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all 
the others seems a mere accompaniment. Neither is his 
strain altogether imitative. His own native notes are 
bold and full, and varied seemingly beyond all limits: 
‘They consist of short expressions of two, three, or, at 
the most, five or six syllables, generally interspersed 
with imitations, and all of them uttered with great 
emphasis and rapidity, and continued with undiminished 
ardour. for .half an hour or an hour at atime. His 
expanded wings and tail, glistening with white, aud the 
buoyant gaiety of his action, arresting the eye as his 
song most irresistibly does the ear, he sweeps round 
with enthusiastic ecstasy, and mounts and descends as 
his song swells or dies away. While thus exerting 
himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would suppose 
that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together 
on a trial of skill, each striving to produce his utmost 
eflect.. He often deceives the sportsman, and sends 
him in search of birds that are not, perhaps, within miles 
of him, but whose notes he exactly imitates: even birds 
themselves are frequently imposed upon by this admira- 
ble mimic, and are decoyed by the fancied calls of their 
mates, or dive with precipitation into the depth of 
thickets at the scream of what they suppose to be the 
sparrow-hawk, 

The mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy 
of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, 
when he commences his career of song, it is impossible 
to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; 
Cesar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his 
master. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the 
hen hurries about with hanging wing's and _ bristled 
feathers, chuckling to protect its injured brood. ‘The 
barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking 
of a passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and 
rapidity. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, 
though of considerable length, fully and faithfully ;—he 
runs over the quaveringss of the canary, and the clear whist- 
lings of the Virginia nightingale, or red-bird, with such 
superior execution and effect that the mortified songsters 
fee] their own inferiority, and become altogether silent, 
while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling 
his exertions. 

This excessive foudness for variety, however, in the 
opinion of some injures his song. His elevated imita-' 
tions of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by 
the crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the blue- 
bird, which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with 
the screaming of swallows or the cackling of hens. 
Amidst the simple melody of the robin .one is suddenly 
surprised by the shrill reiterations of the whip-poor-will, 
while the notes of the kildeer, blue-jay, martin, baltimore, 
and twenty others, succeed, with such imposing reality, 
that the auditors look round for the originals, and with 
astonishment discover that the sole performer in this 
singular concert is the admirable bird uow before us. 
Dunng this exhibition of his powers, he spreads his 
wing's, expands his tail, and throws himself around the 
cage in all the ecstasy of enthusiasm, seeming not ouly 
to sing but to dance, keeping time to the measure of his 
own music. Both in his native and domesticated state, 
during the stillness of the night, as soon as tle moon 


1833.] 


rises, ne begins his delightful solo, making the whole 
neighbourhood resound with his inimitable medley. 

The mocking-bird is frequently taken in trap-cages, 
and, by proper management, may be made sufficiently 
tame to sing. ‘The usual price of a singing-bird is from 
seven to fifteen, and even twenty dollars. 
has known fifty dollars paid for a remarkably fie singer ; 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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445 


and one instance where one hundred dollars were 
refused for a still more extraordinary one. Attempts 
have been made to induce these charming birds to pair, 
and rear their young in a state of confinement, and the 
result has been such as to prove it, by proper mana e- 
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[The Mocking-Bird. ] 





A WELL-CONDUCTED FACTORY. 
(From a Correspondent.) 


THE general tenour of the evidence given before the 
Factory Commissioners goes to show that, althongh 
there may be great abuses in many establishments in 
which children are employed, extensive factories may, 
and do, exist where the le@ht spirits of yonth are still 
buoyant and unbroken by undue labour and restraint, 
and where the industry of the young not only contributes 
to the increase of our national wealth, but also to their 
own advantage. In many factories they are not only 
usefully employed, but, at the same time, are trained up 
in those habits of morality and good feeling which are 
most likely to ensure their own lasting happiness and to 
make them valuable members of society. 

We have recently returned from visiting many such 
factories, and, among the rest, that of Mr. John Wood, 
jun., a stuff manufacturer of Bradford, in Yorkshire. 
We think it may do some good, in two ways, if we give 
a very slight sketch-of what we there saw. Such an 
outline may serve to correct some of the prejudices which 
exist on the subject of factories general!y, amongst those 
who have never visited the seats of our great manufac- 
tures ; while those masters (we hope they are but few) 
who look only to the accumulation of money by the 
employment of children, may take shame to themselves 
when they find that the same object may be attained 
without injury to their health or morals. 

In the manufactory of Mr. Wood abont six hundred 
persons, principally. girls, are employed. When we 


as of them future welfare. 


arrived it was the hour allotted to dinner and recreation ; 
and the young people were joyously sporting in the open 
yard of the-factory, hke children out of school. After 
witnessing for some time this scene of unrestrained 
freedom from toil, the period for renewed industry 
arrived, and we were ushered into the mill. This we 
found as clean, as light, and as comfortable as a drawing- 
room, or rather as a series of drawing-rooms, for there 
are several floors filled with machinery. The children, 
in resuming’ their work, had not lost their cheerful look, but 
set abont their tasks in a manner which proved that these 
were any thing but irksome tothem. Seats are provided 
for the accommodation of the young folks when they are 
not actually employed, which state of leisure, from the 
nature of their occupation, very frequently occurs, ‘The 
little work-people seemed quite delighted to see their 
employer; their faces brightened up, and -their eyes 
sparkled as he came near and spoke to them ; indeed he 
appeared to be more like a father among them, and an 
affectionate one too, than lke a master; patting them 
on the head, chncking them under the chin, and address- 
ing them according to their ages. 

There is always a surplus number of children in the 
mill, in order that they may be sent by instalments to a 
school-room on the premises, where they learn to knit 
and to sew, as well as to read and to write. The reason 
given by their benevolent employer for having them 
tane@ht knitttne aud needle-work shows how mindful he 
He had found that when girls, 
who had been employed from an early age in a ill, 


446 


were married, they made unprofitable wives, from not 
knowing how to perform the necessary parts of a wife's 
aud a mother’s duties—they did not know how to employ 
themselyes, and consequently became idle gossips. A 
schoolmaster resides on. the premises, and Mr. Wood 
allows other poor children, besides those employed in his 
own mill, to attend the school. A medical man is en- 
gaged to visit the factory weekly to examine into the 
ecneral health of the children, besides which he elves 
niore frequent attendance to those who may be ill. 
With regard to the hours of work, the Factory Bill 
recently passed will just make a difference of ten minutes 
during the day in the time of their employment. ‘The 
children are expected to appear in clean clothes twice a 
week; Saturday is the worst day in the week in this 
respect, and on that day some of the young people are em- 
ployed in cleaning the place. It happened to be ona Sa- 
turday that we viewed the factory, and therefore not at the 
most favourable time: the young folks do not like visiters 


on that day, aud there was in consequeuce some slight. 


scruples at admitting us; but every.one and everything 
appeared to us nice, clean, and in order, and we could 
not detect among the children any signs tha‘ the renewed 
cleanliness of the morrow was required. . We questioned 
the proprietor as to the morals of the older girls, when 
he assured us that they are perfectly good, and added 
that he was certain if any one among them was known 
to misconduct herself, the rest would immediately apply 
to him to dismiss her from among them. Mr. Wood 
never found any difficulty in training the children ac- 
cording to his wisnes; at first he had some trouble in 
inducing the pareiuts to co-operate with him 1n his plans, 
but this obstacle toimprovement is now entirely overcome. 

Mr. Wood is a wool-sorter and wool-comber, as well as 
a spinner; and in those brauches employs men of some 
skill, who appeared to be very decent; not one did 
we see who bore the marks of vice or drunkenness 
about him. ‘They seemed to be on the best of terms with 
their employer. Whenever he entered any room where 
they were at work, he addressed them with ‘‘ Good 
morning, how do you all do?” which was answered by 


an-inquiry about his -health, and-an addition in one or.| 
‘complete flat, like the greater part of the Netherlands. 


two cases of, “ It is some days since we have seen yon, 


Sir.” In fact, all seemed elad to see him, as if it were felt |. 


aud fully recognized that his was the grateful task to 
watch over. apd promote the. general good, and that only 
one common interest existed between them. » Happy is 
it for society when the employer and the employed have 
such a connexion of mutual good-will between them, and 
most happy are those who. can combine with their own 
@aintul pursuits the gratification which always accompa- 
nies warm-hearted and enlightened benevolence. 


REMEMBRANCE, 


Man hath a weary pilgrimage 
As through the world he wends ; 

On every stage from youth to age 
Stili discontent attends ; 

. With heaviness he casts his eye 

Upon the road before, 

And still remembers, with a sigh, 
The days that are no more. 


Lo school the little exile goes 
Torn from his mother’s arms 3 
What then shall sooth his earliest woes, 
When novelty hath lost its charms ? 
Condemn’d to suffer through the day 
Restraints which no rewards repay, 
And cares where love has no concern, 
Hope lengthens as she counts the hours, 
Before his wish’d return. 
From hard control and tyrant rules, 
The unfeeling discipline of schools, 
In thought he loves to roan, 
And tears will struggle in his eye 
While he remembers with a sivh 
’ eens ~ 
Lhe comforts of his home, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Novemzer 16, 


Youth comes; the toils and cares of life 
Torment the restless mind ; 

Where shall the tired and harass’d heart 
Its consolation find ? 

Then is not youth, as fancy tells, 
Life’s summer prime of Joy ? 

Ah no! for hopes tgo long delay’d, 

And feelings blasted or betray’d 
The fabled bliss destroy ;: 

And youth remeinbers with a sigh 

The careless days of infancy. 


Maturer manhood now arrives, 
And other thoughts come on, 

But with the baseless hopes of youth 
Its generous warmth is goue ; 

Cold calculating cares succeed, 

The timid thought, the wary decd, 
The dull realities of truth ; 

Back on the past he turns his eye, 

Remembering with an envious sigh 
Lhe happy dreams of youth, 

So reaches he the later stage 

Of this our mortal pilgrimage, 

With feeble step and slow ; 

New ills that later stage await, 

And old experience learns too late 
That all is vanity below. 

Life’s vain delusions are gone by, 
Its idle hopes are o’er, 

Yet aye remembers with a sigh 
The days that are no more. 

Souler. 


TOWN OF YPRES. 


Ypres, or Ypern (for that is the Flemish name), is not 
now what it was of old; but it is till a considerable 
town, and it retains numerous memorials of its former 
ereatuess, in the public buildiugs with which it is crowded. 
It still ranks with Bruges and Ghent as one of the three 
chief towns of Flanders, and its population is believed 
to amount to about fifteen thousand inhabitants. It 
stands on a stream called the Yper, which flows through 
it from south to north, and then makes its way to the 
sea, into which it falls about midway between Dun- 
kirk and Ostend. ‘This stream descends from some 
crounds of very moderate elevation, a few miles from the 
town; the rest of the country around which is nearly a 


In this situation the town is seen from a considerable 
distance, and: makes a: handsome appearance ag it rises 
in the midst of the plain, with its embattled walls, and 
its throng of spires. ‘Fhe extent of the present walls is 
not quite four Englsh miles, making a circle of about 
a mile and a quarter in diameter. The surrounding 
country is remarkably rich and beautiful, part of it 
being woodland, and the rest consisting of green mea- 
dows and corn-fields, everywhere interspersed with 
orchards, gardens, and villages. 

The pride of Ypres is its Town Hall, which stands 
near the centre of the town in a Jarge open space, called 
the great market-place. It is a magnificent building, 
surrounding a quadrangular space, measuring four 
hundred and sixty-two feet from east to west, and fifty 
in the opposite direction, here divided into two courts by 
a pile of building which crosses its centre. From the 
middle of the south front. rises a lofty square tower, in 
which are a clock and bells, aud which bears the appear- 
ance of being still more ancient than the rest of the 
building, ‘The erection of the hall is said to have been 
begun in 13842, and in popular tradition the work is 
attributed to the English, who certainly, however, were 
not in possession of the place either then or at any 
other period. ‘The notion seems to have originated 
inerely in. the great fame which the English had ac- 
quired in these parts by their warlike achievements, and 
which made them be regarded as the authors of every 
thing wonderful, in the same way as in our own country 
we stil] attribute many old buildings, the origin of which 


fis forgotten, to Cesar and the Romans. We have 


1833.] 


another vestige of this popular veneration for the memory 
of the English in the tradition which deduces the name 
of the city itself from a celebrated British warrior, called 
Iper, who is imagined to have built and colonized it. 
We do not know if there is any more truth than there 
usually is in these idle stories, in astatement which Anto- 
nins Sanderus makes respecting this ‘town Hall, in his 
splendid work entitled ‘ Flandria Illustrata.” He says 
that there never has been seen in it either a spider or a 
cobweb; and he accounts for the circumstance, by 
imputing it, not to the superior dusting and scrubbing 
of his countrymen, but to Some supposed quality in the 
wood. 

The building next to the Town Hall, which is most 
deserving of attention in Ypres, is the Cathedral, which 
stands in its neighbourhood. ‘This is a light and elegant 
Gothic structure, more remarkable, however; for its 
decorations than for its dimensions. Besides the Cathe- 
dral, which is dedicated to St. Martin, Ypres contains 
four parish churches, of which that of St. James the 
Greater, built in the twelfth century, is the largest. 
There are also numerous religious houses for both sexes. 
About a century ago fully a third of the city used to be 
covered with the buildings belonging to these establish- 
ments. 

The city of Ypres; however, is more interesting on 
account of what it formerly was than for what it now is. 
It still contains some manufactures of cloth, serges, 
ribands, and thread; but at one time its inhabitants 
appear to have formed the greatest manufacturing com- 
munity in the world. A census of the population taken 
in 1342, made it amount to above two hundred tliousand 
souls. Soon after this, however, its decline began. In 
a French edition of Ludovico Guicciardini’s ‘ Descrip- 
tion of the Low Countries,’ published at Antwerp, in 
1609, it is remarked, that whensoever and in what 
quantity soever the rain of adversity had in former days 
fallen upon Ghent and Bruges, Ypres liad always 
received some drops of it; and that this’ city, indeed, 
being the weakest of the Wied, had often been severely 
punished, and oblived to pay the forfeit for misdeeds 
which the other two had committed. All these towns 
suffered both by the attacks of foreign enemies and by 
their own internal dissensions. ‘Ihe middle of the 
fourteenth century was in the Netherlands, as in France 
and in England, the age of political convulsion—of the 
first considerable Efforts, since the establishment of 
feudal institutions, made by the body of the people to 
throw off the oppressive yoke under which they were 
everywhere kept down. Some contemporary writers 
attribute these tumults of the comimonalty to the im- 
provement which had now taken place in their condition, 
as compared with that of their forefathers; and there 
can be no doubt that there is much truth in this repre- 
sentation. As long as the condition of the people was 
one of alniost brutal destitution and misery, they sub- 
mitted to be treated like the inferior animals; but as 
they eradually outgrew this absolute penury and help- 
lessness, they became more indisposed to endure the 
oppression to which they were subjected, and began 
first to murmur against it, ad then attempt to throw 
it or Pre sittémpt, aS was to be expected; was not 
skilfully directed in the first instance, and was productive 
of no immediate good effects ; but it prepared the way 
for future and more successful struggles. It served at 


least as an example, and, that once given, the -rest -fol-. 


lowed of course. 

Kor this leading step in the onward march of civi- 
lization, we are mainly indebted to the citizens of Ypres 
and other Flemish towns. ‘The cloth-weavers of these 
tows were the first con:monalty in Inurope that became, 
to a certain extent, independent of their feudal lords, and 
acquired a degree of inherent power and importance by 
means of manufactures and trade. ‘They were accord- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


447 


ingly the first to rise in extensive and formidable concert 
against the system of misrule by the erandees and lords 
of the soil which then universally prevailed. And from 
the Netherlands the movement was propagated into 
other countries. FEinelish liberty in particular is probably 
much indebted to these sturdy burghers. To us they 
gave much more than their example. Edward III. 
brought over to England large numbers of these cloth- 
workers from the Netherlands, who settling here, com- 
municated to our labonring classes their own arts and 
habits of industry, and may also be supposed to have 
transmitted and diffused that new spirit of liberty which - 
had priucipally induced them to leave the land of their 
birth. Elizabeth also, long after, again tncreased the 
population of this island by opening her ports to those 
mechanics of the Low Countries who were driven abroad, 
in her day, by the tyranuical conduct of the Spanish 
government of that province, as admimstered by the 
notorions Duke of Alva. 

The first insurrection of the Flemings, however, 
against their princes, was, as we have observed, attended 
with very disastrous results to Ypres and the other towns, 
whose inhabitants engawed in it. ‘‘ Before the coin- 
mencement of these wars in Flanders,” says Froissart, 
in commencing his account of the attempt made by the - 
people, in the latter part of the fourteenth century, to — 
restrain the oppressions of their governors, ‘‘ the country 
was so fertile, and everything in such abundance, that 
it was marvellous to see, and the inhabitants of the 
principal towns lived in very grand state.” But the war 
laid all this prosperity waste. ‘ The people,” he says, 
“ were very murderous and cruel, and multitudes were 
slain or driven out of the country. The country itself 
was so much ruined, that it was said a hundred years 
would not restore it to the situation it was in before the 
war*,” 

This war was left for some time at first to rage between 
the Earl of Flanders and lis insurgent subjects, who, 
according to an old custom of the country, having chosen 
Sh selves leaders, assumed the name of White- hoods. 
At length, however, the French king, Charles VI, 
strnck in, to the aid of his brother potentate ; and 
although the rebels had been hitherto successful at every 
point, this interference speedily turned the scale. ‘Lhe 
following is the account which Froissart gives of the 
submission of the city of Ypres to the powerful force 
which the Earl was now enabled to bring against it:— 

“ As soon asthe citizens of Ypres learned that the 
Earl was on his march thither with such a force, they 
were greatly alarmed; and the principal and richest 
inhabitants held a council, in which they resolved to 
open their gates, and go out to meet him, with offers to 
replace themselves under his obedience, trusting to his 
mercy. It was well known to him that they had allied 
themselves with Ghent through fear of the lower ranks, 
such as weavers, fullers, and other ill-intentioned people 
of the town; they besides depended on his kind and 
inerciful character for their pardon. As they had re- 
solved, so did they execute; and upwards of three 
hundred in a company went out of the town, carrying 
the keys of the gates with them. On meeting the Earl 
of Flanders they fell on their knees, and berged for 
mercy, saying, that they personally, and the Whole town, 
resioned themselves to his will. ‘The Earl took pity on 
thefn, inade them rise, and granted thein lis pardon. 
He entered the town of Ypres. with lis whole army; and 
remained there for three weeks, sending back those of 
the Frane and of Bruges +o their couart. towns. During 
his residence in Ypres, he had upwards of seven hundred 
weavers and fullers beheaded; and all those who had 
been any way concerned In admitting John Lyon and 
the Ghent men into the town, who had slain the knights 
and men-at-arms whom he had sent thither, and which 


* We quote from the English translation by Johnes. 


443 


had enraged him so much. To prevent: them again 
rebelling against him, he sent three hundred of the prin- 
cipal inhabitants to prison in Bruges, escorted by 
handsome body of men-at-arms.” 

But these successes of the Earl of Flanders and his 
ally, the king of France, soon aroused a strong feeling 
of hostility arainst France in England. Froissart. at- 
tributes this to envy. 

However this may be, Lord Henry Spencer, Bishop of 
Norwich, having been about this time appointed by Pope 
Urban VI. commander-in-chief for England, of what was 
called a crusade in the interest of that pope against his 
rival Clement IV., and having as such been placed at the 
head of a formidable force, he and his troops embarked 
for the continent, and landed at Calais on the 23rd of 
April, 1383. A consultation was then held by the 
leaders with the object of determining in what direction 
they shonld next proceed; when it was resolved that the 
expedition should march into Flanders. 

“They then sent to the insurgents in Ghent for their aid. 
—‘* When Peter du Bois, Peter le Nintre, and the 
captains in Ghent,” continues the historian, “ heard that 
the English demanded their assistance, and were lying 
before Ypres, they were much pleased, and prepared 
themselves to march thither as speedily as possible. 
They set out from Ghent on the Saturday morning after 
the octave of St. Peter and St. Paul, to the amount of 
near twenty thousand, with a very considerable train of 
carts, and in good array. They marched by Courtray, 
and came before Ypres. The Engtish were rejoiced at 
their coming, and made great cheer for them, saying 


“i 


they would take Ypres, and then conquer Bruges, 


Damme, and Sluys, making no doubt that before Sep- | 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


LOL ut Pg OA gh TELL OE 
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[NovemBer 16, 1833 
tember they would have conquered all Flanders. Thug 
did they boast of their good fortune.” 

The issue, however, was very mortifying. “ Tt always 
happens,’’ says Froissart, ‘“ that in war there are cains 
and losses: very extraordinary are the chances, as those 
know well who follow the profession. The siege of 
Ypres was pushed on with unwearied force; and it was 
fully the intention of the Bishop of Norwich, the English, 
and Peter de Bois, to conquer Ypres by storm or other- 
wise, as the vigour of their attacks showed.” But all 
their assaults being attended with no result, they resolved 
to adopt a new plan of operations, Froissart continues, 
‘The English and Flemings, finding they conld not 
take the ‘town by storm, and having expended much of 
their artillery, resolved to have quantities of faggots 
made and collected, with which and earth they would 
fill up the ditches, so that they might advance to fight 
hand to hand with the garrison, undermine the “ie 
and, by throwing them down, win the place.” Before 
this expedient could be executed, however, news was 
brought that the King of France was advancing with a 
powerlul body of troops; and on receiving this intelli- 
gence, the bishop and his captains thought it best upon 
the whole to endeavour to make their. escape as fast as 
they could. They reached home, and also contrived to 
carry with them a good deal of. booty; but they were 
not thought to have brought much honour: back from 
their campaign. “‘* When these knights,” the historian 
tells us, “ returned to England, they were attacked by 
the common people, who “told them they had behaved 
very badly in their expedition, for, from the prosperity 
they had had at the beginning, they ought to have con- 
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#,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. a ey 
Printed by Wirtram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, ; 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





~ ' PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[NovemBer 23, 1833. 





THE CHAMOIS.’ 


. (Abridged from ‘ Menageries,’ Vol. I. 








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Tur chamois inhabits the most inaccessible parts of the 
woody regions of the great mountains of Europe. ike 
the klipspringer of the Cape, he is remarkable for the 
wonderful extent and precision of his leaps. He bounds 
over the chasms of rocks—he spring's from one projection 
to another with unerring certainty—he ‘throws ‘himself 
from a height of twenty or even thirty yards, upon the 
smallest ledge, where there is scarcely room for his feet 
to plant themselves.. This extraordinary power of 
balancing the body—of instantly finding the centre ‘of 
eravity;—is a peculiarity of all the goat tribe, to which 
the chamois is nearly allied. The ability of the eye to 
measure distances, with such -undeviating exactness, 
is associated with this: power of finding the centre of 
eravity. In the chamois these are instinctive faculties, 
which he possesses almost fro the moment of his birth. 
They are’ not the result of training; for the young 

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able to imitate the feats of his more practised companions. 
And yet man, by constant training, may attain an 
excellence in the employment of his senses very little 
inferior to the instinctive powers of the lower animals. 
The chamois hunters of, the Alps are ~ remarkable 
examples of what he may accomplish by courage, "per- 
severance, and constant experiment. If man fairly bring 
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{Hunting the Chamois. ] 


contest even with such surprising faculties as the chamois 
possesses, the triumph is his; and this triumph shows 
us that there are few things beyond the reach of human 
energy. The hunting of the chamois has been strikingly 
depicted in a work which unites the highest attainments 
of science, with an occasional display, of the more com- 
mon interest of picturesque description *. 

The chamois hunter sets‘out upon his expedition of 
faticue and danger generally in the night. His object 
is to find himself at the break of day in the most elevated 
pastures, where the chamois comes to feed before the 
flocks shall have arrived there. - The chamois feeds only 
at morning and evening.’ When the hunter has nearly 
reached the spot where he expects to find his, prey, he 
reconnoitres with a telescope. If he finds not the 
chamois, he mounts still higher; but if he discovers him, 


he endeavours to climb above him and to get nedrer, by 
passing round some ravine, OF eliding’ behind some 
eminence or rock. - When he is near eriough to dis- 
tinguish the horns of the animal (which are small, round, 
pointed, and bent backward like a hook, as in the 
above cut), he rests his rifle upon a rock, and takes his 
aim with great coolness. He rarely misses. This rifle 


is often double-barrelled. © If the chamois falls, he runs 


* Voyages dans les Alpes, par H. B. de Saussare, Tom. i, 
§ 736.- Genéve, 1786. 4to. 
3M 


450 


to his prey, makes sure of him by cutting the ham-strings, 
and applies himself to consider by what way he may 
best regain his village. If the route is very difficult, he 
contents himself with skinning the chamois; but if the 
way is at all practicable with a load, he throws the 
animal over his shoulder, and bears it home to his 
family, undaunted by the distance he has to go, and the 
precipices he has to cross. 

But when, as is more frequently the case, the vigilant 
animal perceives the hunter, he flies with the greatest 
swiftness into the glaciers, leaping with incredible speed 
aver the frozen snows and pointed rocks. It is par- 
ticularly difficult to approach the chamois when there 
are many together. While the herd graze, one of them 
is planted asa sentinel on the point of some-rock, which 
commands all the avenues of their pasturage ;—and when 
he perceives an object of alarm, he makes a sharp, hiss- 
ine noise, at the sound of which all the rest run towards 
him, to judge for themselves of the nature of the 
danger. If they discover a beast of prey or a hunter, 
the most experienced puts himself at their head, and 
they bound along, one after the other, into the most in- 
accessible places. 

It is then that the labours of*the hunter commence 3 
for then, carried away by the excitement, he knows no 
danger. He crosses the snows, without thinking of the 
precipices which they may cover; he plunges into the 
most dangerous passes of the mountains—he climbs up, 
he leaps from rock to rock, without considering how he 
can return. The night often finds him in the heat of 
the pursuit; but he does not give up for this obstacle. 
He considers that the chamois will stop during the 
darkness as well as himself, aud that on the morrow he 
may again reach them. He passes then the night, not 
at the foot of a tree, nor in a cave covered with verdure, 
as the hunter of the plain does, but upon a naked rock, 
or upon a heap of rough stones, without any sort of 
shelter. He is alone, without fire, without light; but 
he takes from his bag a bit of cheese, and some of the 
barley-bread, which is his ordinary food—bread so hard 
that he is obliged to break it between two stones, or to 
cleave it with the axe which he always carries with him 
to cut steps which shall serve for his ladder up the rocks. 
of ice. His frugal meal being soon ended, he puts a 
stone under his head, and is presently asleer, dreaming 
of the way the chamois has taken. He is awakened 
by the freshness of the morning air; he rises, pierced 
through with cold; he measures with his eyes the preci- 
pices which he must yet climb to reach the chamois; he 
drinks a little brandy, (of which he always carries a 
sinall provision,) throws his bag across his shoulder, 
and again rushes forward to encounter new dangers. 
‘These daring and persevering hunters often remain 
whole days in the dreariest solitudes of the glaciers of 
Chamouni; and during this time, their families, and, 
above all, their unhappy wives, feel the keenest alarm 
for their safety. 

And yet, with the full knowledge of the dangers to be 
encountered, the chase of the chamois is the object of an 
insurmountable passion. Saussure knew a handsome 
young man, of the district of Chamouni, who was about 
to be married; and the adventurous hunter thus ad- 
dressed the naturalist :—-“* My grandfather was killed in 
the chase of the chamois; my father was killed also ; 
aud I am so certain that I shall be killed myself, that 1 
call this bag, which I always carry hunting, my winding- 
sheet: I am sure that I shall have no other; and yet if 
you were to offer to make my fortune, upon the condi- 
tion that I should renounce the chase of the chamois, I 
should refuse your kindness.” Saussure adds, that he 
went several journies in the Alps with this young man; 
that he possessed astonishing skill and strength, but 
that his temerity was creater than either ; and that two 


years afterwards he met the fate which he anticipated, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[NovemBER 28, r 


by his foot failing on the brink of a»precipice to which 
he had leaped. Jt is the chase itself which attracts 
these people, more than the value of the prey; it is the 
alternation of hope and fear—the continual excitement— 
the very dangers themselves—which render the chamois 
hunter indifferent to all other pleasures. The same 
passion for hardy adventure constitutes the chief charm 
of the soldier’s and the sailor's life; and, like all other 
passions, to be safe and innocent, it must be indulged in 
great moderation—near akin as it is to one of our most 
senseless and mischievous propensities, gambling. 

The very few individuals who grow old in this trade 
bear on their coumtenauces the traces of the life which 
they have led. ‘They have a wild, and somewhat hag- 
gard and desperate air, by which they may be recognized 
in the midst of a crowd. Many of the superstitious pea- 
sants believe that they are sorcerers—that they have 
commerce with the evil spirit, and that it is he that 
throws them over the precipices. When the enormous 
glaciers and summits of Mont Blane are beheld from 
the vallies, it is indeed almost miraculous that any 
mortal should be found hardy enough to climb them; 
and it is not unnatural that a simple peasantry should 
believe that something above human excitement had 
inspired these perilous undertakings. 'To the traveller, 
or to the native of the vale of Chamouni, Mont Blanc is 
an object of awe and astonishment; and the devotion of 
the iustructed, and the superstition of the unenlightened, 
are perhaps equally attributes to the God of nature, 
when they thus look upon one of the grandest of natural 
objects— | 
“The dread ambassador from earth to heaven.” 


The chamois ‘is now gettine rare in Switzerland, in 
consequence of the inhabitants being allowed to hunt 
him at all seasons; but the race may be expected once 
more to multiply, as the old regulations for determining 
the periods of hunting are again introduced. 





‘MINERAL: KINGDOM.—Szcrion 17. 
| COAL. 


Origin of Coal.—If we examine a piece of this substance, 
particularly the fat, caking quality from Newcastle, we 
find it acompact, shining, stony body; but there are few 
fraginents, even of a moderate size, in which we may not 
discover some parts very like charcoal, and very often with 
the distinct structure of wood or other vegetable inatter. 
Such appearances are most frequently observed in the slaty 
coal of Staffordshire, Scotland, and other parts. Our 
knowledge of the nature of coal has. been much advanced 
by an instrument new in mineral analysis, but which, in 
other departments of nature, has brought many hidden 
things to light. By an ingenious application of the 
microscope, Mr. Witham has exhibited a delicate cellular 
structure in fossil woods, which, without such aid, pre- 
sents only the appearance of compact stone; and he has 
detected the same in coal, by subjecting extremely thin 
slices of it to this very highly magnifying power. His 
researches have been followed up by Mr. William Hut- 
tou, of Newcastle, who has thereby done much not only 
to elucidate the vegetable origin of coal, but to explain 
many chemical phenomena connected with it which were 
previously very little understood. Mr. Hutton states 
that, in all the vaneties of coal found in the Newcastle 
coal-field, more or tess of the fine, distinct, net-like 
structure of the original vegetable texture can always be 
discovered. ‘Lhe vegetable origin of coal is further 
illustrated by the vast quantities of fossil plants found in 
the sandstones and shales which are interstratified with 
the beds of coal. These are often in an extraordinary 
degree of preservation, for the most delicate leaves are 
spread out on the stone like the dried plants on the 
paper in the herbarium of a botanist. How perfectly 


1833.] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


451 


the forms are preserved the following specimen will | fossil trees in the coal-measures have cccurred in Great 


snow i— 





sa 


{Sphenopteris Trifolialata.] 


This plant belongs to the fern tribe, and the specimen is 
from the shale-beds of a coal-field in Silesia, in Germany ; 
but others, quite as distinct in form, are common in the 
coal-fields of this country. 

About three hundred different species of plants have 
been discovered in the coal-measures of this and of 
other countries, and of these fully two-thirds have a close 
resemblance to ferns. Among the rest, one of the kinds 
most frequently found belongs to that tribe of plants 
which botanists call the equisetacea, of which the weed 
so common in our ditches, known by the name of horse- 
tails, is an example; but while the stem of these rarely 
exceeds the diameter of a goose-quill, the fossil equiseta 
are sometimes as thick as a man’s arm. Other fossil 
coal-plants resemble large reeds and canes; and bodies 
which appear to be fragments of the branches and stems 
of palms and other trees are of frequent occurrence. 
It is a remarkable circumstance, that no remains either 
of grasses or of mosses have yet been observed in the 
coal-measures—plants which are not very often absent 
where vegetation is abundant, especially in moist 


situations: and the character of the whole fossil flora of | 


the coal-fields shows, that the plants must have grown 
in marshy or humid ground. ‘These terrestrial plants 
are never mixed with any of those which grow in the 
sea, It is a very striking fact, too, that they are generally 
of such a size as to indicate a degree of Juxuriance of 
prowth that is now known to exist only in tropical 
regions. “ It would hardly be credited,” says Professor 
Lindley, in his ‘ Fossil Flora of Great Britain,’ “ by 
persons unacquainted with the evidence upon which 
such facts repose, that in the most dreary and desolate 
regions of the present day, there once flourished groves 
of tropical plants of conifers, like the Norfolk island and 
Araucarian pines, of bananas, tree ferns, huge cacti, and 
palms; that the marshes were filled with rush-like 
plants fifteen or twenty feet’ high, and the coverts with 
ferns like the undergrowth of a West India island.” 

In the greater proportion of the fossil plants of the 
coal-measures there is little appearance of woody matter ; 
stems of a foot and a half in diameter have been found 
with the external form perfectly preserved, but having 
only a coating of coaly matter of inconsiderable thick- 
ness, the interior part consisting of sandstone or clay, 
with now and then some more coaly matter in the 
centre, indicating, as it were, the pith. But trunks of 
trees, in which the woody texture was preserved nearly 
throughout the whole stem, have often been met with: 
they have been seen in the coal-mines of Westphalia 
sixty feet in length; and two remarkable instances of 


Britam, which have been well described by Mr. Witham. 
In a bed of sandstone near Gosforth, about five miles 
north of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, a stem was found which 
measured seventy-two feet in length, four feet in width 
at its lower end, from which it tapered gradually, and 
was eighteen inches wide at the top. It was in a com- 
pressed state, as if flattened by great incumbent pressure, 
so that the above dimensions of the widtn are not the 
true diameter of the stem. ‘The woody structuze was, in 
this instance, only in part preserved, but in those places 
it was converted into a siliceous or flinty petrifaction, 
containing cavities lined with rock crystal; and this 
petrified portion was, in one place, nearly two feet in 
diameter. ‘There were no roots attached to it, and no 
branches, but there were large knots and other places 
where branches appear to have been broken off. ‘The 
other instance occurred in the great freestone quarries 
of Craigleith, near Edinburgh, from which the greater 
part of the New Town of that city has been built, a 
sandstone belonging to the coal-field of Mid Lothian, 
but underlying, it is believed, the regular coal-measures. 
It was a stem forty-seven feet long,—a large branchless 
trunk, in some parts very much flattened, the greatest 
diameter being five feet, the smallest nineteen inches. 
It was imbedded in the solid stone, with above a hun- 
dred feet of layers of rock above it, and lay across the 
strata, thus passing through several beds. 

The following sketch of the appearance of the tree, as 
it was laid bare in the quarry, is copied from Mr. 
Witham’s Memoir :— 


al NO Se 
Eh i any 







£, 


i 


*. 





MOUs ny} 








aE 
ym | 




























| iy My WW) My 
HNN i, il UES 
a RRO, 5% Sys 
: bub Dn 

















G 
; fy 
> 






iP 


rae | 


. Y 
Mla i 
ae 


+ 
nen ee 


=! ee 


"ot - SAE 
5 SS 
SSS 
— Sage ae at 
he, SE = ee eee > ~ 


: 
SV 






a 
= a -Anws, 
a ae Se 
re 
~~ _— 


Ss ee “=< 
— ge — a 
~~ ——— 


SSS 
(Fossil-Tree at Craigleith Quarry.] 


The bark was converted into coal; but, in the interior, 
the woody texture was in many places perfectly pre- 
served, as was shown by the ingenious process of Mr. 
Witham above mentioned. It is conjectured to belong 
to the conifer or fir-tree tribe, but there are some 
peculiarities of structure which make that doubtful. A 
large portion of this stem may be seen in the Museum, 
and another in the Botanic Garden of the University of 
Edinburgh. 

It is the general opinion of geologists that our beds 
of coal have been produced by vast quantities of plants 
carried down from the land and accumulated at the 
bottom of the sea, during a long succession of ages; the 
numerous alternations, amounting to many hundreds, 
sometimes of sandstones, shales, and beds of coal, proving 
a long duration of the process of deposition. The cha- 
racter of the vegetation indicates not only a tropical but 
also an insular climate ; that is, the plants must have grown 
on islands in a very moist atmosphere, and in a heat as 
ereat or even greater than that of the West Indies. ‘To 
account for the extraordinary luxuriance of the vege- 
tation, M. Adolphe Brongniart, a living French natu- 
ralist, to whom we owe the greater part of all onr most 
accurate information on the subject of fossil botany, has 
suggested that there was probably a much larger pro- 
portion of carbonic acid gas in the os Ta of that 

7 


452 
period than now exists; that gas being one ereat source 
of vegetable matter in the growth of plants. As any 
great proportion of carbonic acid gas would render the 
air unfit to support animal life, the absence of the re- 
mains of land quadrupeds, among such accumulations 
of terrestrial plants, certainly gives some countenance to 
the conjecture. This mode of accounting for the deposi- 
tion of our coal-beds, is greatly in conformity with what 
must be now going forward in many parts of the earth to 
prepare beds of coal for future far-distant ages. Jivery 
river must carry down to the sea more or less of the 
trees and other plants which either fal] accidentally into it, 
or are swept from the banks by the force or undermining 
action. of the stream; and the accumulation of such 
vegetable matter at the mouths of the larger rivers’must 
be very-great. In the case of the Mississipp!, for instance, 
vast rafts, composed of trees held together by the inter- 
lacing of smaller’ plants, which have been washed from 
the banks by the main‘ stream and its numerous ‘tribu- 
taries, are floated down into the Gulf of Mexico, bearing 


upon them a luxuriant covering ‘of plants. |The: mag- 


- 


nitude which some of these rafts attain, by accumulation, 


: i 


while they are temporarily arrested in their progress to 


the sea, is truly astonishing. -‘An‘ obstruction of this 


sort in'the Atchafalaya, one of the outlets of the Missis- 
sippi in the lower ‘part of its delta, produced a raft of 


this sort ten‘ miles in length, two hundred and twenty 
yards wide, and eight ‘feet ‘deep.’ It rose ‘and fell ‘with: 


¢ 7 wf es ¥> cae a, “* ‘ ” % a 
the water during the chang'es of*flood and drought; and, 


although floating, its surface was ‘covered with a variety: 


of living plants. In many parts of the coast, by depres- 
sions of the land, great forests growing near the shore 
have been sunk below the level of the sea; the trees 
have been thrown down, and in process of time covered 
with mud and sand, the waves rolling over them every 
tide: Such submarine forests now exist on the coast 
of Lincoltishire, and near the mouth of the river Parrot 
in Somersetshire in the Bristol Channel. 

But it may be thought very naturally that trees and 
other vegetable bodies, although carried down by the 
rivers to the sea, would not sink, but would continue to 
float, until, by the ‘gradual process of decay, they would 
totally disappear. © But wood: swims in water only in 
consequence of the air-contained in its cells ; the sub- 
stance of wood is*considerably heavier than water, and 
it therefore sinks a8 soon as the air is withdrawn from it. 
Very long soaking in water will expel the air, but this 
will take place’ more speedily when great pressure is 
applied at the’ same-time ; by which meats, in‘squeezing 
out the air, the sides of the: cells are brought closer 
together, and the wood becomes. more dense. “Wg re- 
markable instance of this_ has been related by Captain 
Scoresby, in-his Account of his Voyages to the Whale 
Fishery in the Arctic Regions: a whale, on being har- 
pooned, ran out all the line in the boat, and as the end 
of the rope was made fast, the boat was dragged by the 
fish under water, to the depth, it is supposed, of several 
thousand feet; the men having ‘just- had time to make 
their escape by leaping on a piece of ice. When the whale 
returned to the surface to breathe, it was killed; but, 
in place of floating, it began to sink, as soon as it was 
dead, in consequence of the weight of the. boat, which 
was still attached to it by the line of the first harpoon 
remaining in its flesh. The sunken boat was raised 
with great difficulty; for so heavy was it, that, although 
before the accident it would have been buoyant when 
full of water, it now required a boat at each end to keep 
it from sinking. When they got it into the ship, the 
oaken planks were, Captain Scoresby says, ‘as com- 
pletely soaked in every pore, as if they had’ lain at the 
bottom of the sea since the flood.” <A piece of light fir- 
wood, about fifteen inches square, that had gone down 
with the boat, when thrown into the water again’ sank 
Vike a stone. . ie | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ruinous as earthquakes, ” 


[NcvEMBER 23, 


It may be said, however, that, granting this trans- 
portation of trees and plants by rivers,—granting their 
sinking to the bottom of the sea, and their alternation 
there in layers with beds of sand and clay,—still their con- 
version into coal has to be accounted for; a substance 
not only different in appearance but also in properties 
from the substance of trees and plants. Here the re- 
searches of chemical science have come to our aid; for the 
conversion of vegetable matter into coal has been proved, 
by the observations of Dr. M‘Culloch on peat-bogs, and 
by a series of experiments in the laboratory, instituted 
by the same distinguished philosopher. Coal, freed from 
its adventitious earthy matter, which is merely me 
chanically mixed with it, is resolvable into the same _ 
ultimate elements as wood ; and Dr. M‘Culloch ascer 
tained that the action of water on turf, or submerged 
wood, is sufficient to convert them into substances capa- 
ble of yielding bitumen on distillation, and black and 
brittle like those varieties of coal called, by mineralogists, 


lignite and jet; and he is farther of opinion that great 


pressure and long-continued action may have produced 
the other modifications.~ The coal so produced differs, 
however, very materially in appearance and properties 
as fuel from the coal-of::our mines ;,and the last link.of 
the: chain between .a. lump of. Neweastle coal anda 
rrowing tree ‘has yet:to, be found... , . * ~) eh 
_[In, our next section we. shall describe the geogra-_ 
phical distribution of Coal in the Mineral-Kingdom.] 





ne THE ICELANDERS.—No.2. 


ICELAND, which was so well known to England and the. 


e = e pe’ eee Te e 
other ‘northern countries, of Europe,in the time of, its 


literary ‘supremacy and its’ wandering poets, in subse- 
quent periods of history seems to have been gradually. 


withdrawn from all observation. The popular accounts 


of: the island were such as could be collected by, Green- 


and whale-fishers, who now and then touched at it, and 


were copiously mingled with fable and the superstitions 
of uneducated seamen, on whom voleanic and other phe- 
nomena made an awful impression. ~- . 
.The late Sir Joseph Banks, in 1772, undertook a 
voyage to Iceland, accompanied by Doctors Solander, 
J. Lind, and Uno Von Troil. Dr. Von Troil, one. of 
his companions, who was a learned Swede, son_ of the 
Archbishop of Upsal, after his return to Sweden, drew 
up in a simple,form, and popular, unostentatious style, 
an account of all that the expedition. had seen and 
learned in Iceland. ‘There had been several accounts of 
the island before published ; but, this was the most cor-_ 
rect and instructive. A subsequent narrative of a journey. 
made in the summer of 1810, by Sir George Steuart. 
Mackenzie and Dr. Holland, confirms ‘the account of 
Von Troil as to the excellent moral qualities, and the 
high intellectual attainments of the poor Icelanders. ) 
The whole of Iceland is a chain of volcanoes ‘extinct, 
or, to a greater or less degree, in action; its soil is 
almost everywhere formed of decayed cinders, lava, and 
slags. Numerous springs of boiling - hot water, in 
columns of great diameter, shoot high into the air, 
carrying large stones up with them, as do the flames 
from the crater of a voleano. Some of the many moun- 
tains, that cross the island in every direction, are always 
covered with snow and ice; and the valleys between 
these mountains are in most instances strewn with hard, 
black, naked lava, for the distance ‘of miles. ‘Avalanches, 
called by the Icelanders snioffod (snow-flood), are of 
frequent occurrence, and the mountains themselves not 
unfrequently crumble away and roll down into the plain, 
burying the cottages or the farms beneath. Harth- 
quakes, moreover, are’ very common, and at times (as 
happened in 1755) so violent, that the houses of a whole 
district are seen overturned, and hills rent asunder. 
Dreadful ‘hurricanes, being -still_ more frequent, are as 





: 


1833.] 
_ In some places there grow stunted birch, juniper 
bushes, and other underwood, but a tree is not to be 
seen on the whole surface of Iceland. Where the vol- 
canic matter has been sufficiently decomposed or crusted 
with vegetable earth, both the plains and the mountains 
offer tolerable pasturage, and thus enable the islanders 
to keep large flocks of sheep, on which, and their fishe- 
ries, their support mainly, or it may be said entirely, 
depends. Fortunately no wild animals except rats aud 
foxes breed on the island; but they are liable to the 
visits of huge Polar bears, that are floated to their shores 
on detached pieces of ice. If these, animals effect a 
landing, they generally prove very destructive to the 
sheep. ‘To prevent this the Icelanders are very vigilant. 
When fire-arms are scarce, they put out to sea in their 
little fishing-boats and attack the invaders with spears 
and fish-hooks. If killed and secured these bears are 
of no mean value to them, for they cure and eat their 
flesh, and make excellent winter cloaks or rugs of their 
skins. The waves of the ocean; by throwing on their 
coast quantities of drift-wood from America and other 
parts, also increase the resources of the. poor Icelanders. 
They use it for fuel, and the small houses they inhabit 
are frequently built of this drift-wood.' Their residences 
are, however, more generally made of blocks of lava, the 
interstices between which they carefully fill up with moss 
to keep out the cold. Their roofs are of turf, and the 
windows, instead of glass, are furnished .with.the thin 
membranes of sheep or lambs. In small fenced spots 
near these primitive abodes, they cultivate’ cabbage, 
parsley, spinach, turnips, potatoes, with some: other roots 
and vegetables, and raise flax and hemp as materials for 
their own clothing. The Lamar y of, a.single fruit tree is 
unknown. 

‘Within, the scene is more cheerful ; for, while the little 
hut is at buried beneath the snows of winter, aud 
darkness and desolation cover the land, “the light of an 
oil-lamp illumines the page, from which the. (ether reads 
to his family the lessous of knowledge, religion, and 
virtue.” In these regular evening readings the master 
of the family always begins, and he is followed by the 
rest in their turn. Even during their daily in-door 
labours, while some are employed in making ropes of 
wool or horse-hair, some in preparing sheep- -skins for 
fishing dresses, or in spinning, knitting, or weaving, one 
of the party generally reads aloud for the amusement 
and instruction of the whole. Most farm-louses have a 
little library, and they exchange books with each other. 
As these houses are scattered over a wild country, and 
far apart, the only opportunity they have of making 
these exchanges is when they meet at church; and at 
church a few always contrive to be present even in 
the most inclement weather. In many parishes there 
is also a small collection of books, the property of 
the church. This library is under the superintendence 
of the minister of the parish, who lends the books to 
any, family. of the district that may be desirous of in- 
creasing its means of instruction and amusement. The 
parish priest, acting occasionally in aid of the parents, 
is also the schoolmaster of the district, and keeps a 
recister of the intellectual and moral improvement of the 
younger part of his flock. He himself is exempted from 
few of their laborious occupations, enjoys few additional 
privileges or comforts, and only keeps his ‘place in a 
Society, where all are anxious for iustruction, by the 
superiority of his intellectual attainments. In their 
ecclesiastical code, a singular law, but admirable in 
design, gives to the clergy ‘the power of preventing any 
marriage where the female is unable to read; and thus, 
in the instruction ‘of the mother, on, » finan so much 
depends, this law provides for the education of the off- 
spring. Sir George S. Mackenzie and Dr. Holland 
remarked that, except at the great fishing stations, it 
was rare indeed to find any Icelander, whatever might 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


453 


be his condition, who could not both read and write. 
But they have much higher accomplishments. Latin 
still forms part of the education of the people, as well as 
of the clergy—the Icelanders still write it, both in poetry 
and in prose ; and it is a common thing for the stranger, 
while traversing their country, to find his peasant guide 
addressing him in good Latin, and his host at night, 

drawn, perhaps, from the humble labours of the smithy, 

conversing with him in the language of Virgil and Cicero, 

with great fluency and elerance. Not a few of these 
poor islanders are also well acquainted with the language 
and literature of ancient Greece. Among modern 
tongues they have cultivated the Danish, the. German, 
aud the English. In 1$10 they had translations froin 
Addison, ee ee Young, Pope, and Milton.’ 

The general attainments of this people are the more 
surprising, as Owing to the distance from place‘ to place, 
or even from house to house, to the frequent interruption 
of all communication by snow-storms and inclement 
weather, to the necessity in which nearly all are’ of 
almost constantly working.in some way or, other. for 
their support, and to other circumstances, the Icelanders © 
cannot follow any extended scheme of public education, 
but depend entirely for the acquisition and transmission 
of knowledge on their own private resources and domestic 
habits, In. the year 1510 there was only. one - public 
school in the whole island. 

The fine arts in. Iceland have not been cultivated with 
the same success as literature. Although’by: the old laws 
of the country,-music as well as poetry was expressly 
made a branch ‘of common education,’ their music: has 
been stationary at a very simple, if not a barbarous point. 
Nor have painting and sculpture made much more pro- 
egress. Yet here it is well to observe that the celebrated 
modern sculptor, Thorvaldson, who so long resided. ‘at 
Rome, where he was second. only to the oreat Canova, 
Was the son of an Icelander. 

In describing their readings and fondness for are we 
have described the principal amusement of these people. 
Another of their pastimes is to meet together at their 
leisure hours, and to recount to one Bearer the history: 
of former times,—“ so that,’* says Ven Troil, “to this day 
you do not meet with’ an. Icelander who is not well 
acquainted with the history of his own country.” “They 


also recite verses at their festive meetings, where, there i ie 


rarely anything drunk save an unfermented preparation 
of milk with water; and sometimes a male and a female 
sing a poem in dialogue, in a slow, cadenced sort of reci- 
tative. They are great chess-players, and familiar with ° 
several ingenious games at cards, but they never- play 
for money. 

_ The ordinary food of these’ civilized peasants is very 

poor. ‘Bread is often a stranger to their mouths for 
mouths, and that which they eat consists of sour biscuits, 
and hard, dry rye-bread, imported from’ Copenhagen. 
Fish is the most important article of consumption among’ 
them, and they eat the flesh both of sharks and whales. 
The dangers to which they are exposed while fishing in 
their stormy seas are great, and though they meet them 
like brave men, they are fiully sensible of their existence. 
Whenever they put off from shore, they reverentially 
take off their caps, sing a short hymn in concert, and in 
a prayer recommend themselves to the merciful protec- 
tion’ of the Almighty. 
' The dress of the Icelanders is neither smart nor orna- 
mental, but almost invariably neat, clean, and well siiited 
to their rigid climate. , They, have all (that reat crite- 
rion of civilization) a supply: of body linen, and every 
man wears a linen ‘shirt‘ of | his own houseliold*1 manu- 
facture. 

In person the Icelanders are neither strong nor hand- 
some: in their dispositions they are mild, reflective, and 
serious; they have uo boisterous mirth, but a sober, sub- 
dued clieerfulness, which 1 is better, and lasts much longer. 


454 


Hospitality, to: Lhe utinost extent of their means, is one of 
their many virtues. No people in the world are more 
attached to their native Jand, which, cold, stormy, and 
desolate as it is, they prefer to every other country. 
The present population of Iceland is stated as being 
about fifty thousand. 





Bread, in some parts of Sweden.—It was impossible not 
to be struck with a specimen that was pointed out to our 
notice of the food of the peasantry, during a nard season, 
+4 the more remote districts. Itwasacake from Dalecarlia, 
made of the bark of trees: of this provender the birch is 
the most common in use, while that of the pine is held 
luxurious and dainty fare; but to procure a little rye-flour, 
and add it to this wretched mixture, is a happiness that 
falls tothe lot of few. The inner bark or parenchyma is 
applied to this purpose; it is simply macerated in water, 
cround up, and formed into cakes of the consistence of a 
wafer; their taste is slightly bitter, but seerned, I thought, 
by no means less palatable than the coarse leaven bread 
of rye, made with old sour yest, which generally may be 
called the “ staff of life’ even throughout the more fertile 
parts of Sweden. The use of so poor a diet in a climate 
that requires the most nutritious regimen is attended with 
its inconveniences: the rustic peasants in general, though 
large and bony, are of a spare habit, and on the smallest 
alteration or improvement of thei food are subjected to 
severe attacks of plethora. Many of these poor creatures 
do not survive their first visit to Stockholm, where, when 
they are ill of a surfeit, their disease is usually called the 
Dalecarlian malady, from its prevalence among that people: 
this complaint, indeed, seizes upon them in so great num- 
bers, as to give an idea to the vulgar of its being contagious, 
aud one frequently hears, as the phrase is, that it is “ going 
ahout.’— James's Travels in Sweden and Russia, &c., 
during the Years 1813 and 1814. The same traveller after- 
wards gives a remarkable instance that occurred in 1788, 
when a regiment of provincial militia was called to do duty 
at the capital. Among the rations allowed to these men 
were wheaten bread and a little meat,—a violent malady 
aiid considerable mortality in the regiment were the conse- 
quences of this sudden change of dict, nor did the men 
recover until an inferior bread, adulterated to the requisite de- 
sree of meagreness and indigestibility was served out to them, 
and the more nutritious parts of their food withdrawn. 





BRIGHTON CHAIN PIEK. 


In our account of ‘The Great North Road, we gave 
views of several suspension bridges: the same principle, 
viz., of suspending a roadway by rods, from chains hang- 
ing in a curve from one tower to another, has been em- 
ployed in several cases, by Captain Brown, for construct- 
ing piers, or jetties, extending many hundred feet into 
the sea, and forming thereby most commodious quays, 
and landing-places at all times of the tide, and in situa- 
tions where no vessel of a moderate size could approach 
the shore, | 
The town of Brighton has enjoyed the benefit of this 
useful contrivance, where, as many of our readers know, 
a beautiful chain pier has withstood the buffeting of 
storms for nine or ten years past. On the 15th October 
last, however, for the first time it suffered severely from 
a storm; and from the total absence of all eye-witnesses 
to the catastrophe, there appears to be great difficulty in 
determining how it was actually produced. 
Tt appears that at half-past seven in the evening a 
tremendous gale came on from the west, attended with 
heavy rain and lightning; a very short time previously, 
the pier-master had returned from the pier, when it was 
in every respect in its usual state. The night was dark, 
so that a person on the cliff could not easily discern the 
progress of destruction ; but as it was low water, so iow, 
that it is said there was no water under some parts of 
the pier which suffered most, it is evident that the 
water could not cause the destruction. Some persons 
have supposed it must therefore be the effect of light- 
ning ; there was lightning on that evening, but all 
concur in stating that it was not accompanied by thunder, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{ NovEMBER 23, 


consequently it must have been too far off: to have struck 
the pier. Neither is there any probability that lightning 
could injure the pier: there is not a rod used in its con- 
struction which is not considerably thicker than the 
common iron conductors used for the protection of build- 
ings; the rods, therefore, could not be melted, and indeed 
there is not the slightest trace of melting in any part of 
them: and as.every rod is in close contact, they form 
one uninterrupted conductor, both ends of which 
terminate a considerable distance underground. The 
damage, then, is to be attributed to the wind; and it is 
interesting to inquire in what way the wind produced 
so great an effect, the pier having previously withstood 
much more tremendous gales. 

The pier consists of a platform, about thirteen feet wide, 
and about a thousand feet long, suspended from eight 
chains, passing over four towers, the chains being at one 
end fixed in the cliff, and at the other end fixed in 
masonry sunk in the sea. ‘The eight chains are arranged 
in pairs, side by side, there being two pair on each side 
the platform, one pair being hung about twelve inches 
above the other. The parts between the towers are 
called bridges ; and to distinguish them we may call ther 
the first, second, third, and fourth bridges from the cliff, 
The towers are made of cast iron, and each rest upon 
twenty piles, driven with more than the usual force into 
a bed of chalk; the last tower and the extension of the 
platform, forming the pier head, rest upon 100 piles, 
well bound together, and further stiffened by piles driven 
diagonally. 

The four main chains are made of wrought iron, two 
inches in diameter, in links ten feet long; and the platform 
is suspended from the main chains by suspension-rods 
about one inch in diamete:; the upper ends of the sus- 
pension rods are inserted in hollow caps, resting on the 
joints of the main chains. Figs. 1, 2,3, and 4 show the 
construction of these caps, and of the suspension-rods 
and platform. 










soca TO 
_— 
Joist 


y 
Tron We 
Girder. ail 


both were more or less destroyed, most of the suspension- 
rods snapped, and the main chains were left hanging 
almost independent of the platform, one of the wpper pair 
of chains being separated from its companion and twisted 
round the pair below it. In the first and fourth bridges 
there was little other effect produced than what might 
result from the sinking of the main chains in consequence 
of the counterbalancing weight of the second and third 
bridges being removed ; thus these bridges had swagged 
down, and parts of the hand-railing were broken and 
some of the suspension-rods were bent, but almost 
all the caps of the suspension-rods appear to have been 
moved; some of. the towers are also thrown out of the 
perpendicular, . 

Let us now consider the manner in which the wind 
most probably produced its destruction, Some hay¢ 


1833.] 


supposed that a violent gust of wind had lifted up the 
third bridge, and that when it fell again it snapped the 
suspeusion-rods. Now it does not appear likely that any 
gust of wind could lift so heavy a body; while a mode- 
rate storm, if we may use the expression, could, under 
certain circumstances, easily cause such a structure to 
swing to and fro. : 

The writer of this article once tried, by mere strength 
of.arm, to put in motion the main chains of a suspension 
bridge, 400 feet in lencth between the towers. At the 
first few thrusts no sensible motion was produced; but 
as care was taken to time the thrust, just as is done in 
the common amusement of swinging, the whole bridge 
was soon set in motion. . 

On the night of the accident, the wind was due west,— 
and consequently it fell directly at rieht angles on the pier, 
the most favourable direction for producing vibration side- 
ways. The first gust of wind would produce a very slight 
vibration ; but whether the vibration were little or great, 
it would follow the laws of the pendulum, and take, 
we will suppose, three seconds to make one vibration, 
namely, three seconds to attain the end of its motion 
east, and three seconds to return to the end of ifs motion 
west, making together six seconds. Now, every gust, 
which did not take place in twelve, eighteen, or twenty- 
four seconds, or some other multiple of the time of 
vibration, would tend to stop the vibration ; which has 
probably been the case in all previous storms, the wind 
being generally so irregular as’ generally, perhaps, in the 
case of vibration, to counteract its own violence. ‘Thus, 
itis not the weakest trees of the forest which are de- 
stroyed by the storm, but probably such whose times of 
vibration happen to correspond with the times of the gusts. 

Now, we have only to suppose that, on that particular 
night, the gusts of wind happened to recur in intervals 
corresponding with the time of vibration of the main 
chaims, 2. ¢., in eighteen, twenty-four, or thirty seconds, 
or in some other multiple of six seconds—the time we 
have to suppose the bridge would take to vibrate from 
the west to the east and back awain to the west; and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Rm Sm ep gp er 
LOL LEI A A EE LP I A a A A 


then, although those gusts might be far less violent ‘than 


many a storm before, yet, occurring at these particular 
times, they might produce so violent a motion, as to 
wrench off the heads or break some of the centre sus- 
pension-rods, where the vibration would of course be 






455 


greatest: when the centre rods rave way, the weicht of 
the centre part of the platform would be thrown dy the 
adjoining suspension-rods, which would, of course, more 
readily give way: as soon as the suspension-rods had 
suddenly set the main chains at liberty, the weielht of 
the adjoining bridge would suddenly draw up, or, as 
the result has showed, fling up the chains of the brokey 


‘bridge, and thus account for the entancline of one chain 


with the other. ‘The separation of the one chain in the 
upper pair from its fellow was very possible, as soon as 
the caps of the suspension-rods were dislodged, the pair 
not being held together, except by these caps. 

A practical illustration of the effect of repeated im- 
pulses, at stated intervals, occurred some time since at the 
Broughton suspension bridge, near Manchester, which 
had stood the ordinary traffic well; but one day a regi- 
ment of soldiers was passing over the bridge—the first 
and second companies walked over with irrerular step 
and passed safely ; as the third company were passing’ 
over, a fifer struck up a favourite march, and the men 
immediately dropped into the regular military step, and 
presently the bridge gave way and let them all into the 
river,—fortunately every man got out without any ma- 
terial injury. 

In this case the bridge micht be said to have broken 
with a weight which it had previously borne, just as 
the chain pier is said to have given way to a force 
which it had previously borne; but as, in the former 
case, the damage was done by the stated impulses of 
the men’s feet, so, in the latter case, the damage was in 
all probability done by the stated impulses of the wind. 

If the foregoing suggestions be correct, namely, that 
the disaster was produced by the swinging of the chains 
and platform to and fro, it will show the importance of a 
contrivance added, by Mr. Brunel, to two suspension- 
bridges, constructed by him for the Isle of Bourbon 
about ten years since, and that similar precautions may 
be useful even in this country. An accurate description 
of one of these bridges is given by Dupin in his ‘ Com- 
mercial Power of Great Britain.” Dupin observes, that 
‘it was necessary that the bridge should be sufficiently 
powerful to resist storms which tear up trees by the roots 
and swallow up vessels by gusts of wind, which act with 
extraordinary force not only in a horizontal but in a ver- 
tical direction, and, by turns, upwards and downwards.”’ 





Fig. 5 : 
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[Plan of Isle of Bourbon Suspension Bridge. ] 


Mr. Brunel obtained a proper resistance (see Figs. 
5 aud 6) by employing a double system of chains: 
first, the usual upper chain; secondly, lower and 
inverted chains, united to the road-way of the bridee by 
vertical rods, which are, properly speaking, the suspeud- 
ing-rods of the inverted chains. In order to give firm- 
ess to the road of the bridge, horizontal with the stream, 
the lower chains, instead of being on a parallel plane 


with the upper ones, diverge from them near the points 


of supy ort, as is clearly shown in fig. 6, 


Fig. 7 shows the mazmner in 
which two bars of the inverted 
chains and one of the lower sus- 
pension-rods are joined together. 
From this figure it will be seen 
that two flat links, pierced with 
three holes to receive three bolts, 
belone respectively to two coi- 
tizuous bars of the inverted chain, and to the lower rod 
between them, ‘he upper part of this suspending-rod 





A56 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [Novenner 23, 1883, 





coes through the corresponding beam close to one of extremities of the inverted chain to the abutments. 
the upper rods, and is fastened by a screw on its head. | These inverted or, as they may be called, stay-chains 
The last bar of the inverted chain goes through the | have been found hitherto to answer the purpose. 

whole thickness of the masonry of the central pier of the . i mo . , 
bridge, and, on coming out, is set in a large plate of Since the above observations were written, a public 
cast iron; thus a great part of the pier has to support subscription has been made for repairing the Brighton 
the great strain or tensions which the inverted chains Chain Pier ; and it has also been stated, in one of the 
must experience during storms, and when the wind blows | public journals, that it is intended to add stay-chains : 
upwards... The same system is used to attach the other | ‘these, there is no doubt, will render it perfectly secure. 


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_" LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST, 
Printed by WILLIAM Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 








THE 


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Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





106. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


{NoveMBER 80, 1833. 





ST. PETERS.—No. 2 





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Tus interior of this wonderful church is, on the whole, 
as grand and beautiful as the exterior, though, like that, 
not free from architectural defects. 

It is not, however, when the stranger first crosses the 
threshhold of its grand eate that the full majesty of the 
place bursts upon him, but it is by degrees, and after 
repeated visits that he is made sensible of its size and 
matchless sublimity. All who have written on the sub- 
ject agree in this impression. ‘Ihe various parts of this 
vast church are so well proportioned to each other, every 
thing being on the same scale of greatness, that the eye 
is deceived by the’ harmony which exists, and can only 
judge of the real size of particular objects, by comparing 
something in the edifice within reach with something ana- 
logous to it, in the ordinary works of nature. ‘Thus two 


figures of cherubs, supporting the vase of holy-water 


near the door, whicli are six feet high, do not look bigger 
than children of five years of age ; nor are their di- 
mensions understood except by referring to some living 
man or woman who may be standing near them. And 
again, the figures of the Evangelists, which decorate the 
inside of the cupola, do not appear larger than life, 
though the pen in St. Mark’s hand is six feet long. 
Something also may be found to account for this 


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[Central Nave of St. Peter’s. | 


impression in the elegant notion of Madame de Stel, 
who fancies the objects are not so much diminished as 
the spéctator’s faculties -are raised and aggrandized 
when he finds himself for the first time within the sacred 
precinct; and some weight, moreover, must be given to the 
remark of the acute Forsyth, who says,’ “ But greatness 
is ever relative. St. Paul’s is greater because every thing 
around it is little. At Rome the eye is accustomed to 
nobler dimensions, and ‘measures St. Peter's by a larger 
NS a” . 7 
The lateral. aisles, and the numerous chapels which 
break off from the grand whole of the temple, have been 
mide amenable to criticism; but the central nave, as 
represented in our cut, is infinitely grand and sublime. 
It is, ei@hty-nine feet in breadth and one hundred and 
fifty-two feet high; it is flanked on either side by a 
noble arcade, the piers of which are decorated with niches 
and with fluted Corinthian pilasters. A semicircular 
vault, highly enriched with sunk panels, sculptures and 
cilded ornaments’ of various kinds, is thrown across 
from one side to the other, producing the most splendid 


effect. 
Walking up this magnificent avenue, which in itself 


fis one of the grandest works of art, the visiter comes to 


aN 


458 


a part of the building incomparably more magnificent 
still; we mean, of course, the crown of the whole,—the 
reat soul of the composition,— Michael Angelo’s cupola, 
which is raised over the centre of the plan. 

“The cupola,” exclaims Forsyth, “is glorious! Viewed 
in its design, its altitude, or even its decoration *—viewed 
- either as a whole or a part, it enchants the eye, it satisfies 
the taste, it expands the soul. The very air seems to 
eat up all that is harsh or colossal, and leaves us nothing 
but the sublime to feast on,—a sublime peculiar to thie 
genius of the immortal architect, and comprehensible 
only on the spot!” 

Standing on the pavement of the church, immediately 
beneath this vast concave, and gazing upwards, through 
a wide uninterrupted void to the height of four hundred 
and twelve feet, the effect is almost overpowering ; there 
man shrinks, as it were, into nothingness beneath the 
wondrous works of man! Architecture can boast of 
nothing so sublimely impressive as this! 

The concave surface of the cupola is divided into com- 
partments, is enriched with majestic figures of saints in 
mosaic and other grand works of art, and is brilliantly 
lighted from above and below. In the centre of the 
cross, where the sea of light pours down from the dome, 
and ten or twelve feet beneath the pavement of the 
present church, is the tomb of St. Peter, before which a 
hundred lamps are constantly kept burning. 

In describing the exterior of the church we have 
mentioned that the mast glorious effect produced is when 
the cupola is illuminated; and so, in the interior, the 
temple is never seen to such advantage as when (on the 
evening of Good Friday) it is lighted solely by an 
immense cross of brilliant lamps suspended in the centre 
under that dome. The cross sheds a liquid brilliancy 
on a vast space where the pope, in white robes, and all 
the cardinals ranged behind him, kneel in silence for the 
space of half an hour. During that time you might 
hear the fall of a pin. A pale and uncertain light, 
diminishing in proportion to its distance from the glorious 
focus of the cross, fills the rest of the temple, developing 
with a veil-like, undecided effect, which carmot be 
described by words, the colossal statues on the tombs, 
and the crowds of living beings assembled there who 
look like pigmies. At this season the stately columns 
and pilasters seem to swell in size,—the roofs and the 
dome’rise even higher than their usual elevation,—the 
whole church dilates its vast dimensions! It is said that 
the great Michael Angelo, who was great in architecture, 
sculpture, painting, poetry,—in every thing he did or 
projected, first gave the idea of thus illuminating the 
interior of the church by the cross alone. 

' Ina brief sketch like this, we can neither enter on 
the architectural details, nor describe the womders of 
art in sculpture, painting, and mosaic contained within 
St. Peter’s. Hither of these subjects, indeed, would 
occupy a volume. We have said there are faults detected 
within the church as well as without ; but absolute per- 
fection is not a faculty of man, and besides this edifice was 
not the work of one great genius but of several architects 
in succession—some of whom had none of the judgment 
and grand taste of Michael Angelo, and all of whom 
widely departed from the plans he had laid down for 
building the whole of the church. As it is, however, a 
visit to St. Peter’s is an exquisite pleasure, and one calcu- 
lated to elevate and improve the soul of man. “ All the 
time I was in it,” says an eloquent French writer, “ my 
thoughts were fixed on God and eternity*.” It isa 
spectacle too that never tires—you may visit it every day, 
and always find something new to admire. ‘This will 
be easily conceived if the reader only reflect on thie fact, 
that for several ages, and through a long succession of 
popes, the fine arts have never ceased adding new 


* Dupaty, Lettres sur L’ Italie. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[ NovEMBER 3U, 


riches to the temple on canvass or in mosaic, in marble 
or in bronze. : 
The temperature of the air within its vast enclosure 


is deliehtfully mild and genial—it is cool in summer, 


and comfortably warm in winter—it is, in fact, almost 
invariable. Nothing can well be more exquisite than to 
escape on a lot summer’s day from the streets of Rome 
and the glaring light and oppressive heat, and to seek. 
refuge in the cool atmosphere of St. Peter’s. 
winter at Rome, too, is sometimes sufficiently severe 


to enhance the value of its genial temperature at that 


season. 

A similar adyantage is enjoyed in most of the great 
churches in the south of Europe, but in none to such a 
degree as in St. Peter’s, where a perpetual spring may 
be said to reign. Nor is this produced by any actively 
artificial means: there are no fires or other modes of 
warming in winter, and there are no peculiar processes 
for veutilating or otherwise cooling in summer. It arises 
solely from the enormous thickness and solidity of the 
walls throughout; from the comparatively few and small 
apertures communicating with the external atmosphere; 
and from the immense bulk of the air enclosed within 
the temple, that neither parts with nor receives heat in 
sufficient quantity to effect in any perceptible degree 
the equability ofits temperature. 

[To be continued. ]} 





THE PLAGUE OF BAGDAD. 
(By one of the Survivors.) 
In the early part of the year 1831, the people of Bagdad 
remained in anxious but passive expectation of the cala- 
mities of war and plague; and they waited not long 
before calamities, mare in number and greater in extent 
than the worst they had feared, came upon them. 

In the year preceding, Tabreez had been devastated 
hy the plague; and all eyes at Bagdad watched anx- 
iously to observe in what direction it would travel from 
that city. It was not long left doubtful. It came down 
slowly upon Bagdad, pausing at Kerkook, where thou- 
sands of the people fell before it. Yet, with such dis-~ 
tinct warning, none at Bagdad thought of endeavouring; 
by sanitory measures, to avert the pestilence from the 
city before it came, or from their houses after it had come. 
The customary intercourse of traffic and of travel went 
on without restriction between the city which dreaded 
the plague, and those places where it was known to he 
then actually raging. Moslems in general regard all 
sanitory precautions as measures of futile and wicked 
opposition to that divine will which must be accom- 
plished. And as the pestilence, which visits Bagdad 
about once in ten years, had generally passed over it so 
lightly; that an extensively destructive plague was a 
thine for garrulous old age to talk of as an event which 
had happened some sixty years before, each seemed 
disposed to trust to his chance of being one of the many 
who escaped, rather than of the few that died. Death 
by plague is also regarded as a martyrdom: and these 
considerations combined, resulted in that actual passive- 
ness for which the Turks are noted; while a degree 
of anxiety was at the same time manifested, frem which 
that singular people are supposed to be exempt. 

About the middle of March, the plague was introduced 
into the city by some people of Kerkook; and on the 
29th of that month its presence was distinctly ascertained 
by the medical officer attached to the British Resideucy, 
who, on a personal inspection of the persons reported to 
be sick, found on them the glandulous swellings by 
which the true character of the disease was indicated. 
This gentleman (who himself was one of the earliest 
victims of the plague, in attempting to escape from it,) 
almost despaired ‘for the city when he saw the diseased 
and healthy crowded together in the same rooms: and, 


The 


| 
: 


1988) 


although he felt that wnder proper measures the pestilence 
might be confined to the quarter in which it then 
existed; he could hope nothing when men went about, 
Without restraint, from the chambers of the plague to 
the bazaars and coffee-houses. 

The population of Bagdad, at the commencement of 
the plague, may be considered to have been somewhat 
more than 80,000. Of this number 7000 perished in 
the first fortnieht; and asthis presented a daily average 
of inortality equal to the maximum in plagues considered 
very bad, and exceeded the maximum in that of 'Tabreez, 
it was, not without reason, hoped that the rage of the 
pestilence would then subside. It had scarcely com- 
meticed. At the terthination of the period mentioned, 
earbuncles began to appear in the patients, and from 
that time the dazly mortality increased with a rapidity 
truly frightful, until, towards the end of April, it attained 
the maximum, as nearly as the comparison of different 
reports enabled us to ascertain, of little less than 5000 ; 
and at the termination of the calamity, it was computed 

that out of 70,000 persons, (which allows more than 


ef ar on 


but very probably more: Tr 

This extent of destriietion; which, in proportion to the 
popiilation, far exceeds that of any other plague of which 
authentic récord remairis; is not to be attributed to any 
pectiliir virulence iit the pestilential miasma, but rather 
to concurring circumstances, which, in the first instance, 
precluded the dispersion or escape of the people, and, 
in the second; obligéd them to cotigregate densely in 
particular parts of the city. : 

ln ordinary Circtimstatices, Jarge numbers of the 
upper classes would havé removed to Bussorah, Mosul, 
or Dainascus, and Other towns; and the poor would 
have dispersed themselves in the open country. But at 
this time the Arabs, scarcely at arly time managesine, 
were einboldened by the knowledge that Ali Pasha of 
Aleppo was marching upon Bagdad with a firman from 
the sultan, empowering him to depose the ruling Paslia, 
and occupy hi8 place. Various parties therefore fixed 
themselves iii the vicinity of the town, for the express 
purpose of plundering those who might endeavour to 
escape from the plague; aiid, if these were avoided, 
others-—whole tribes—lay beyond; who had equally no 
fear of the Pasha before their eyes, and who, except from 
such fear, would think no more of plundering a man of 
all lie possessed thin; to use their own expression, of 
peeling an onion. This consideration prevented many 
from attempting to escape; and many who were hardy 
enough t6 make the attenipt soon returned, deprived of all 
they had taken with them; even to the clothes they wore. 

Few of those who did succeed iii petting to some dis- 
tatice froiti Bagdad without being plundered, had much 
cause to congratulate themselves on their good fortune. 
The rivers Eniplirates and Tigris are flooded twice in each 
year ; first, in the spring, from the melting of the snows 
in the mountains of Armenia ; and then, in autumn, from 
the periodical rains. ‘This year the plague had begun to 
assume its most terrible features, when the rivers over- 
flowed their banks in a manner without recorded or tra- 
ditional example, laying the country, in the lower part 
of their course, completely under water. Many of those 
who were then on their way to other places were drowned ; 
a few found the means of returning to Bagdad; and 
many who saw the waters gathering around them, and 
equally precluding their progress and return, were 
eiiabled to retreat to some rising grouilds, where they 
established themselves, and waited mally most weary 
weeks till the subsiding waters allowed them to return. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


459 


Many of these parties were miserably thinned by famine 
and by plague; for they were able to obtain no supplies 
of food; and, by # most unaccountable infatuation, 
persons who were escaping from the plague, in the con- 
tagious character of which they believed, did not hesitate: 
on leaving Bagdad, to admit of their parties snch HaRIe 
then distinctly known to have that disease upon them. 
Many of the survivors, on their return to Bagdad, de- 
scribed in strong language the intense longing which 
was generally felt to return to lie down and die in their 
own houses. 

At Bagdad the waters were for some time excluded by 
the walls of the town; but, on the night of the 26th of 
April, a part of the wall on the north-west side of the 
city was undermined and fell. The waters then rushed 
in, and overthrew in their career about 7000 houses, 
burying in the ruins nearly 15,000 persons, many of 
whom were sick or dying of the plague, besides a large 
number of unburied dead. ‘Those who escaped from 
the immediate consequences of this fearful irruption, 
withdrew to such parts of the city as remained entire or 
less ruined, where they were received into the houses of 
their friends, or congrerated, sometimes to the number 
of thirty, in the houses which the owners had forsaken, 
or which the plague had desolated ; and from the daily 
fall or partial ruin of single houses subsequently, the 
population was undergoing such a continual process of 
condensation, until the subsidence of the waters, as com-~ 
pletely excluded the city from the benefit which, under 
ordinary circumstances, would have resulted from the 
reduced numbers of the population. The inundation is, 
therefore, to be rewarded as the proximate cause of that 
unexampled amount of destruction which the plag~ue 
effected. 

It also resulted from this condensation of the popu- 
lation, and from the deprivation of the usual resources 
for the disposal of the dead, that the sickening horrors 
of a plague were accumulated tenfold before the eyes of 
the survivors. Burial-places in the East are generally 
without the town. ‘These were, at Bagdad, laid under 
water, and while the disposition and power lasted to 
bury the dead at all, every open space—the streets, the 
yards of mosques and stables, were turned up to furnish 
graves. Ina stable-yard, which the terrace of our house 
overlooked, nearly a hundred graves were opened and 
filled in the course of one day and a half. Jt wasa 
fearful thing to see the uncoffined dead brought in bar- 
rows, alid on the backs of asses, and laid upon the 
eround till the graves were ready for them. 

At this early period of the plague, the usual cnstom 
was getierally observed of enfolding the bodies in cotton, 
like mummies; but when cotton was becoming scarce 
and dear, the richest natives, in order to secure for 
themselves some of the honours of the grave, went in 
person to purchase their own winding-sheets of the only 
man who then, at his own house, sold the cotton, and 
who on this occasion made immense profits which he 
did not live to enjoy. 

But, with the increase of mortality, both the power 
and inclination to inter the dead diminished. If the 
means of removal had existed, they would, I was in- 
formed, have forsaken their houses, leaving the ac- 
cumulated dead unburied in them; but this being pre- 
cluded, the dead bodies were put out into the streets, 
where they were greedily devoured by the lean and. 
ravenous dogs which swarm in the cities of the East, 
He did much, then, who took the dead of his househo. ' 
to the river and threw them in. 

My own observation does not confirm the statemer 
that the very young and very old, the feeble and un- 
healthy, fall the readiest victims of the plague. ‘The 
plague at Bagdad was so far from being that 





« Envious nipping frost 
That bites the first-born infants of the spring,” 
3N 2 


¢ 


i 


464 


that one of the most affecting circumstances with which 


it was attended was the number of little children who - 


had lost their parents and friends, crying and. lamenting 
in the streets for the want of that food and attention to 
which they were accustomed ; and, on the other hand, 
very aged people stood unscathed, while their children 
and grand-children fell around them. 

From the earliest stages of the plague, the shops were 
closed, and all business of the city ceased. Even the 
water-carriers soon discontinued to serve their customers ; 
so that such Europeans as had determined to shut them- 
selves up in their houses were severely tried between the 
dread cf introducing the contagion and the necessity of 
sending, some of the household to fetch water from the 
river. Even the mosques were shut, and the sonorous 
voices of the mwuezzins, calling the people to prayers 
from the glittering towers of Bagdad, were heard no 
longer. If one looked into the street, instead of the 
bustling shopkeeper and artisan, the stately and long- 
robed merchant and scribe, or the pleasant groups of 
people laughing 
of their houses, he saw the dead and dying only,—unless 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


, smoking, and telling tales at the doors | 


[NovEMBER 30 





his hand a’bunch of herbs, an onion, or a rose, as a 
protection from contagion. 
_ The pressure of famine was also heavily felt, then and 
after. ‘The inundation cut off the supplies from the 
country, and nothing was bought or sold. No fresh 
provisions of any kind: could be had; and though the 
superior classes, having generally a stock of corn on 
hand, were preserved from absolute want, respectable 
persons came often to our door to beg a bit of bread, 
while the poor Arabs of the town endeavoured to supply 
their wants by breaking into the houses where thiey 
supposed provisions might be found. 

As the season became warmer the rage of the plague 
abated: most of those who were attacked recovered, 
which had rarely before been the case; and, towards the 
end of May, about two months from its commencement, 
the pestilence was considered to have ceased. But the 
inhabitants were not allowed— 

To gather breath in many miserics ;”’ 
for no sooner was this known to the officers of Ali Pasha, 
(who only waited for the cessation of the plague and the 
subsiding of the waters,) than they marched their troops 







a solitary individual now and then appeared, bearing in |,down from Mosul to invest the miserable and cdesolated city. 








CITY OF CANTERBURY. 


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[ Canterbury, from the Railway. 


In our present notice of this ancient and venerable city, 
we shall confine ourselves to a general account of its 
situation and appearance; but the place contains so 
many individual objects of interest, that it will furnish 
us with abundant matter for two or three additional 
articles in future Numbers. : 

Kent, it has been.remarked, is the only county in 
England which now retains its Celtic name, the present 
naines of all our other counties being of Saxon origin. 
The word Kent, or rather the Celtic term of which that 
is a somewhat corrupted form, signifies a head or termi- 
nation, and was, therefore, a very appropriate desig- 


nation for the part of this island projecting towards the 
‘opposite continent, by whose inhabitants it was in all 
probability first bestowed. We find the same word 
entering into other names of places in different parts of 
the country. ‘Thus, for example, on the north coast of 
the Frith of Forth in Fifeshire, North Britain, there is a 
village called Wemyss, from the Celtic Uamh, a cave, 
the rocks in the neighbourhood being several of them 
hollowed out into spacious excavations, which probably 
served as strongholds for the ancient inhabitants. 
About three miles to the north-east of Wemyss there is 
a romantic rocky valley,.or den, as it is there called the 


1833.] 


steep sides of which are also excavated in various places, 
and where there is one opening in particular, unques- 
tionably artificial, which penetrates in several directions 
to a depth that has never, we believe, been ascertained. 
This probably was accounted the head or chief cave, or 
at least the termination of the line of these subterranean 
fastnesses; and accordingly the place received the name 
of Kean-uamh, that is, the head of the caves, now cor- 
rupted into Kennoway. ‘There is a considerable village 
suilt along the edge of the precipice. 

The same term is found in the name Canterbury, 
which is merely the burgh of Kent, or of the people of 
Kent. This, however, was not the most ancient name 
of the town, if we may judge by that which the Romans 
eave it, Durovernum, aterm formed no doubt from the 
British name, by smoothing it down and giving it a 
Latin termination. Durovernum, like Durobrevum, the 
Roman name of Rochester, is probably made up in 
part of the British Dwr, water, but beyond this the ety- 
mology can hardly be traced. The town stands upon the 
banks of the river Stour; indeed a considerable part 
of it is built on an island formed by the separation 
of that stream into two branches; and the Dur of 
Durovernum may be concluded to have expressed a 
reference to this position. The Stour rises south-west 
from Canterbury, and, on leaving the town, passes on 
in a north-east direction, till it falls into the sea, after 
having formed the greater portion of the south-western 
boundary of the Isle of ‘Thanet. 

At the point where Canterbury stands, the valley in 
which the river flows is abont a mile in width, and the 
hills by which it is bounded on both sides are of very 
moderate height. Numerous rivulets, however, descend 
from these to the lower ground, and contribute to the 
fertility of the hop-gardens in which much of it is laid 
out. The windings of the Stour through the lower 
part of the hollow, and the successive islets which it 
forms in its progress, give much additional beauty to the 
vicinity of the city. 

Ever since the arrival of St. Aneustine, in 597, Can- 
terbury has been the ecclesiastical capital of England. 
It was, however, before this period the chief town of the 
Saxon kingdoin of Kent, which had been founded about 
the iniddle of the preceding century by Hengist. 
Ethelbert, the Kentish King, resided here when Augus- 
tine and his monks came over; and the missionaries 
naturally fixed their head-quarters at the seat of the 
court. The city lost its secular pre-eminence on the 
consolidation of all England into one kingdom in the 
beginning of the ninth century ; but the revolutions of 
twelve hundred years have left it still the metropolis of 
the national church. ae 

Like most of our other considerable towns, Canterbury 
was anciently surrounded with walls, the remains of 
which still exist. All the gates have now becn taken 
down except Westgate, being that which forms. the 
entrance into the city from London, and terminates the 
principal street, at this part called St. Peter's Street. 
From this point the street, taking the name of High 
Street in its middle part, and of St. George's Street 
beyond that, runs through the heart of the town ina 
south-easterly direction, forming part of the great road 
from London to Dover. The old Roman road from 
Dover across the island to Chester seems to have taken 
a tine nearly parallel to this, but between two and three 
hundred yards to the south of it, where its course is still 
marked by the street called Watling Street, part of 
which is without and part within the walls. Besides 
the principal branch of the river which skirts the north- 
west part of the city wall, being crossed by a bridge at 
Westgate, another branch of it runs up through the western 
portion of the town, being traversed by another bridge 
called Eastbridge where it meets the High Street. 
Parallel to the southern portion of this latter branch, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


461 


and a little to the east of it, lies the street called Stour 
Street, thus dividing the southern half of the city into two 
nearly equal quadrants, or quarters of a circle. . Amone 
the other principal streets are Castle Street, to the east 
of this and nearly parallel to it, and Burgate Street, to 
the north of St. George's Street, and extending in the 
same direction with it and High Street. There are 
numerous short and narrow lanes in all parts of the city, 
one of which, Mercery Lane, on the north side of Hieh 
Street, is traditionally said to have been the usual resort 
of the numerous pilgrims, who, in ancient times, were 
wont to throng from all parts of the world to Canterbury, 
in order to pay their devotions at the various shrines in 
the cathedral, and especially at that of Thomas a Becket, 
for some ages the most popular saint in the Romish 
calendar. ‘Thus Chaucer sings,— 


*¢ And specially from every shire’s end 
Of Engle-land to Canterbury they wend, 
The holy blissful martyr for to seek 
That them hath holpen when that they wese sick.” 


In this lane several of the adjacent tenements seem an- 
clently to have formed only one honse, or large inn. 
But the same appearances present. themselves also in 
other parts of the city; and doubtless there were large 
inns elsewhere as well as in this short lane, which, if it 
had been entirely devoted to that purpose, certainly 
could not have nearly lodged the whole crowd of pious 
strangers, which in those days Canterbury usually con- 
tained. 

Mercery Lane, however, may probably have anciently 
been the favourite and most honourable place of resort 
for this description of visitors, as being the avenue 
leading to the cathedral and its holy precinct. These 
venerable buildings occupy nearly the whole of the north- 
eastern quarter of the city, forming a large enclosure, 
the entrance to which, called the Precinct Gate, is at the 
termination of Mercery Lane, although a more spacious 
approach to it has lately been formed by a new opening 
from the High Street. An account will be given of the 
Cathedral in a future Number. 

At the soutli-west extremity of the city stand the 
ruins of Canterbury Castle,- a structure which when 
entire seems to have a good deal resembled the Castle 
of Rochester, of which we lately gave a notice. The 
great tower, or Donjon Keep, is the principal part now 
remaining. A little to the east, and also adjacent to the 
city wall, is a considerable conical elevation called the 
Dungil, or Dane John Hill, which, in all probability, 
was also formerly the site of a castle or other place of 
strength. ‘The mount and the surrounding ground, 
however, have now been planted and converted into 
public walks which are much frequented by the mnha- 
bitants. 

The entire circuit of the walls is about a mile and 
three-quarters in length, the space which they inclose 
forming an irregular circle, But the suburbs extend to a 
considerable distance beyond the walls, both in the line 
of the High Street, and to the north-east and the south- 
west. Some of the most interesting of the antiquities of 
Canterbury lie without the walls, especially the extensive 
ruins of St. Augustine’s monastery, which are to thie 
north of the Dover road, and the church of St. Martin 
beyond them. The monastery will be afterwards. noticed 
more at length. St. Martin’s church, which is built of 
Roman brick, is supposed by some antiquaries to have 
been erected so early as the second century, and to have 
been one of the churches of the British Christians in the 
times of the Roman government. It is stated by Bede 
to have been standing when Augustine came over, and 
to have been the first church in which he ond _ his 
monks performed the services of religion, 

|To be continued. ] 


°° aera ees > weartet “= = -s 


( 


462 


Attachment of a Pariah Dog.—The following interesting 
anecdote is taken from the late Bishop Heber’s ‘ Journal of 
his Travels in India.’ “ One of my followers, a poor Pariah 
dog, who had come with us all the way from Bareilly, for 
tlie sake of the scraps which I had ordered the cook to give 


him, and, by the sort of instinct which most dogs possess, 


always attached himself to me as the head of the party, was 
so alarmed at the blackness and roaring of a stream we had 
to cross, that he sat down on the brink, and howled pite- 
ously when he saw me going over. When he found it was 
a hopeless case, however, lle mustered courage and followed. 
But on reaching the other side, a new distress awaited him. 
One of my faithful sepoys had lagged behind as well as 
himself, and when he found the usual number of my party 
not complete, he ran back to the brow of the hill and howled, 
then hurried after me as if afraid of being himself left 
behind, then back again to summon the loiterer, till the 
man came up, and he apprehended that all was going on in 
its usual routine. It struck me forcibly, to find the same 
dog-like and amiable qualities in these neglected animals, 
as in their more fortunate brethren of Europe. The dog 
had, before this, been rather a favourite with my party, and 
this will, 1 think, establish him in their good graces.” 
When it is remembered that the Pariahs themselves, the 
rejected of all castes, are treated more like dogs than human 
beings, the reader will comprehend what sort of treatment 
their poor dogs are likely to receive from the prejudiced 
natives. 





Blindness of Passion, or Mistakes of a Kamtschathan 
Bear.—Fish, which forms their chief nourishment, and 
which the bears procure for themselves in the rivers, was 
last year excessively scarce in Kamtschatka. A great 
famine consequently existed among them, and, instead of 
retiring to their dens, they wandered about the whole 
winter through, even in the streets of the town of St. Peter 
aud St. Paul. One ofthem finding the outer gate of a house 
open, entered, and the gate accidentally closed after him. 
The woman of the house had just placed a large tea-machine, 
full of boiling water, in the court; the bear smelt to it 
and burned his nose: provoked at the pain, he vented all 
his fury upon the kettle, folded his fore-paws round it, 
pressed it with his whole strength against his breast to 
crush it, and burned himself, of course, still more and more. 
The horrible growl which rage and pain forced from him 
brought all the inhabitants of the house and neighbour- 
hood to the spot, and poor bruin was soon dispatched by 
shots from the window. He has, however, immortalized 
his memory, and become a proverb amongst the town’s- 
people, for when any one injures himself by his own 
violence, they call him “the bear with the tea-kettle.”’— 
Captain Kotzebue's New Voyages Round the World in the 
Years 1823—1826. 


Velocity and Magnitude of Waves —The velocity of 
waves has relation to their magnitude. Some large waves 
proceed ‘at the rate of from thirty to forty miles an hour. 
It is a vulgar belief that the water itself advances with the 
speed of the wave, but in fact the form only advances, while 
the substance, except a little spray above, remains rising 
and falling in the same place, according to the laws of the 
pendulum. A wave of water, in this respect, is exactly 
imitated by the wave running along a stretched rope when 
one end of it is shaken; or by the mimic waves of our 
theatres, which are generally the undulations of long pieces 
of carpet, moved by attendants. But when a wave reaches 
a shallow bank or beach, the water becomes really progres- 
sive, because then, as it cannot sink directly downwards, it 
falls over and forwards, seeking its level. 
spectacle of a storm at sea, that it is generally viewed 
through a medium which biases the judgment; and, lofty 
as Waves really are, imagination makes them loftier still. 
No wave rises more than ten feet above the ordinary level, 
which, with the ten feet that its surface afterwards descends 
below this, gives twenty feet for the whole height, from the 
bottom of any water-valley to the summit. This proposition 
is easily proved, by trying the height upon a ship’s mast at 
which the horizon is always in sight over the tops of the 
waves ; allowance being made for accidental inclinations ‘of 
the vessel, and for her sinking in the water to much below 
her water-line at the instant when she reaches the bottom 
of the hollow between two waves. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


So awful is the | 


Lhe spray of the sea, } 


[Novemser 80, 


driven along by the violence of the wind, is of course much 
higher than the summit of the liquid wave; and a wave 
coming against an obstacle, may dash to almost any eleva- 
tion above it. At the Eddystone Lighthouse, when a surge 
reaches it, which has been growing under a storm all the 
way across the Atlantic, it dashes even over the lantern at 
the summit.—Arnott’s Elements of Physics. 


ay 


PALMYRA. 


Tz ancient world has left us nothing more extraordinary 
than this city of the desert. Unrivalled in extent and 
in magnificence, the ruins of Palmyra rise in the midst 
of a vast ocean of sand, on which there is scarcely dis- 
cernible a track of human footsteps, On the north- 
east the uninhabited waste extends to the Euphrates, 
the nearest point of which is 60 Enelish miles distant. 
Lo the north and the west there is scarcely even a 
village of mud hovels within the same distance ; and 
nothing, except two or three sucli miserable resting- 
places of the wild and rovme Arabs, nearer than Aleppo, 
180 miles to the north-west, or Damascus to the south- 
west, almost as far off. The nearest ports on the Me- 
diterranean are Tripoli, Bairoot, Sidon, and Tyre, all 
nearly due west, but none of them nearer than Aleppo. 
‘To the south again all is desert for many hundreds of 
miles. 

Lhe history of Palmyra is as singular and mysterious 
as its situation. Weare told in the 9th Chapter of the 
First Book of Kings, that ‘ Solomon built Gezer, and 
Bethhoron the nether, and Baalath, and Tadmor in the 
wilderness.” ‘Tadmor is in all probability Palmyra. 
This is distinctly affirmed by Josephus. The two names 
also appear to be the same ; for Tadmor is derived from 
a Hebrew root signifying a palm-tree, and Palmyra 
appears to have the same origin. We know that the 
city anciently stood in the midst of a grove of palms. 
But the strongest confirmation of the assertion of Jose- 
phns is found in the fact, that to this day Tadmor, or 
rather Thedmor as they pronounce it, 1s the only name 
by which Palmyra is known among the Arabs. It is 
so called, and, as far as can be ascertained, has always 
been so called, by the tribe who claim, possession of 
it, aud who have taken up their abode among the 
ruins, 

Solomon flourished a thousand years before the birth 
of Christ, and the foundations of Palmyra, therefore, if 
this supposition be correct, must have been laid more 
than 2800 years ago. Vestiges of the past still remain, 
which go to vindicate the claim of the city to this high 
antiquity. Besides the vast relics of an age of the most 
sumptuous architecture crowding the spot, there are 
in many places to be observed the ruins and rubbish of 
more ancient buildings, now for the most part forming 
merely ridges of shapeless hillocks covered with grass or 
sand, ‘These are, perhaps, the foundations of the houses 
of old Tadmor, which a chronicler of the middle ages, 
probably on some authority which is now lost, affirms 
was sacked and overthrown by Nebuchadnezzar 400 


years after it had been bnilt by Solomon. 


In course of time the city appears to have recovered 
from this disaster, and to have become again great and 
wealthy. It was probably built by Solomon to serve as 
an intermediate station for facilitating the intercourse 
between Judea aud India; and, situated as it was, if no 
doubt owed its flourishing condition in after times to its 
Indian trade. Scarcely anything of its history, however, 
is known down to a comparatively recent period. It is 
first expressly mentioned as having, in the century before 
the birth ef Christ, been plundered by Marc Antony, on 
the pretence that it had given aid to the Parthians, against 
whom he was then carrying on war. Its wealth, how- 
ever, is stated to have been the real crime which drew 
upon it the observation of this needy, rapacious, and 


1833.] 


profligate soldier But the booty he actually obtained 
was very trifling ; for the inhabitants, having had timely 
notice of his intention, had contrived before his arrival to 
remove their treasures and most valuable effects beyond 
the Euphrates. From all this it would appear that 
although, from some inscriptions which remain, it may 
be conjectured that Palmyra had submitted to Alexander 
or his successors, it was now considered to be an inde- 
pendent city. Appian, who relates the transaction, ex- 
pressly says that its inhabitants had acquired their 
riches by selling the merchandise of India and Arabia 
to the Romans. 

After this we hear no more of Palmyra till towards the 
close of the third century of our era. It then makes a 
conspicuous figure for a few years during the reigns 
of the Roman emperors Gallienus and Aurelian. We 
must refer the reader to Gibbon’s eleventh chapter for 
the story of its famous queen, Zenobia, who, after at- 
tempting to resist the arms of Rome, and assuming the 
title of Empress of Palmyra and the East, was attacked 
in her capital by Aurelian, taken captive, brought home 
by her conqueror to Italy, and forced to walk in his 
triumphal procession. This catastrophe extinguished 
for ever the glory of the City of the Desert. Al- 
though it had made an obstinate defence, it was, on its 
surrender, treated with lenity by Aurelian; but he had 
not long set out on his return home, when the inha- 
bitants rose upon the garrison he had left in the city, 
and put them all to death. ‘The emperor had already 
crossed the Hellespont when he received this intelligence. 
‘¢ Without a moment’s deliberation,” says Gibbon, “ he 
once more turned his face towards Syria. Antioch was 
alarmed by his rapid approach, and the helpless city of 
Palmyra felt the irresistible weight of his resentment. 
We have a letter of Aurelian himself, in which he ac- 
knowledges that old men, women, children, and peasants, 
had been involved in that dreadful execution which 
should have been confined to armed rebellion; and 
although his principal concern seems directed to the 
re-establishment of a Temple of the Sun, he discovers 
some pity for the remnant of the Palmyrenians, to whom 
he grants the permission of rebuilding and inhabiting 
their city. But it is easier to destroy than to restore. 


The seat of commerce, of arts, and of Zenobia, gradually | 


sunk into an obscure town, a trifling fortress, and at 
length a miserable village.” A few years afterwards, 
the Emperor Diocletian appears to have erected some 
buildings at Palmyra, the ruins of one of which, bearing: 
the only Latin inscription in the place, are still standing. 
Justinian, also, in the sixth century, after it had been 
for some time quite deserted, repaired its walls, aud 
placed a garrison in it; but not regaining its ancient 
trade, its only means of existence, its temples and 
columned porticos were probably soon after left once 
more to the winds and the beasts of prey 

For more than a thousand years after the time of 
Justinian, the history of Palmyra is again nearly an 
utter blank. A Jewish writer, called Benjamin Tude- 
lensis, says that he was there in 1172, and that he found 
the place inhabited by about two thousand of his 
countrymen. ‘The Arabian geographer Abulfeda also 
mentions it in 1821, under the name of Tedmor. But 
in Europe its existence would seem to have been quite 
forgotten, till, in the year 1678, some English merchants 
of the factory at Aleppo received from the natives of the 
country such an ‘account of the ruins as determined 
them to attempt a visit to the spot. ‘They set out ac- 
cordingly, on the 18th of July that year; but although 
they reached Palmyra, they deemed it prudent, from the 
threatening attitude of the Arabs, to return almost imme- 
diately, taking time to copy only one inscription. No 
second attempt was made till 1691, when some English 
residents at Aleppo again set out for the place on the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


463 


30th of September, and reached it after what the Rev. 
William Halifax, who was one of the party, calls ‘ six 
easy days travel.’ They remained for four days, 
‘“ having, says one of them, whose journal of the expe: 
dition has been printed, ‘“ tired ourselves with roving 
from ruin to ruin, and rummaging among old stones, 
from which little knowledge could be obtained.” This 
writer gives no further account of what he saw, his 
whole narrative being occupied with the events of the 
journey ; but fortunately some of his companions did 
not hold ‘‘ old stones,’ and the knowledee to be derived 
from them, in such contempt. In the ‘ Philosophical 
Transactions, No. 217, being the publication for Oc- 
tober, 1695, is given a letter of twenty-eight quarto 
pages, from Mr. Halifax, contaiing a very full descrip- 
tion of the place ; and in No. 218 are printed the journals 
of both expeditions, occupying thirty-two pages more. 
The discovery appears to have excited the highest 
degree of public curiosity. In the same number of the 
‘ Transactions’ in which the journals appear is a paper, 
by the learned astronomer Dr. E. Hatley, on the Ancient 
State of the City of Palmyra, being an able attempt to 
elucidate its history from the inscriptions which the clis- 
coverers had brought away with them, Yrefixed to the 
journal is also given an engraved representation of the 
ruins from a sketch taken by one of the second party. 
This plate is erroneously called “ A View taken from the 
Southern Side,” while it is, in point of fact, a view froim 
the north. ‘The same plate is given, with the error un- 
corrected, in both the first edition, published in 1696, 
and the second, published in 1705, of Abraham Sellers’s 
volume entitled ‘Ihe Antiquities of Palmyra, alias 
Tadmor, built by King Solomon, &c,’ 

After this Palmyra was visited by Bruyn, Maundrel, 
and other oriental travellers; but the journey that has 
done most for the illustration of its antiquities, is that 
which was undertaken in 1751, by Messrs. Wood, 
Bouverie, and Dawkins, accompanied by the Halitan 
draughtsinan, Borra. ‘The results of their investigations 
were published at Loudon, in 1753, in a magnificent 
folio volume, bearing the title of ‘ Ruins of Palmyra, 
otherwise ‘ledmor,’ and consisting principally of fifty- 
seven plates, finished in the highest style of art. 

The travellers left their ship at Bairoot, on the coast of 
Syria, and crossing Mount Libanus to Damascus, pro- 
ceeded thence to Eassia, a village four days’ jonrney to 
the north, from the Aga of which, whose jurisdiction was 
found to include Palmyra, they received an escort of 
horse, under whose protection they pursued the re- 
mainder of their journey. ‘They left Hassia on the 4th 
of March, and reached Palmyra on the 13th. Their 
approach to the ruins was from the south-west, through 
a sandy plain, about ten miles in breadth, and unen- 
livened by either tree or water. On both sides rose 
barren hills, forming the horizon. About two miles 
before reaching Palinyra, the hills seemed to join; and 
upon coming up, it was found that a narrow valley led 
to the city. Ancient and singularly-fashioned sepulchres 
rose here and there on each hand, and occupying the 
hollow of the valley were the ruins of an aqueduct 
which had formerly conveyed water to Palmyra. Imine- 
diately after, the city itself burst upon their view. ‘! We 
had scarce passed these vencrable monumeuts,” says 
Mr. Wood, ‘‘ when the hills opening, discovered to us all 
at once the greatest quantity of ruins we had ever seen, 
all of white marble; and beyond them, towards the 
Euphrates, a flat waste as far as the eye could reach, 
without any object that showed either life or motion. 
It is scarce possible to imagine anything more striking 
than this view: so great a number of Corinthian pillars, 


-mixed with so little wall or solid building, afforded a 


most romantic variety of prospect.” 
The highest hills in the neighbourhood of Palmyra 


464 


are on the west and the north-west; but the city itself 
stands on ground somewhat elevated above the extensive 
plain which stretches around its other sides. = In 
Mr. Wood's work is given a general view of the ruins 
from nearly the same point from which that in the ‘ Phi- 
losophical ‘Transactions ’ must have been taken, namely, 
from the north-east. ‘The persons who visited the city 
in 1678 had found 1 in the neighbourhood “ a garde full 
of palm-trees ;” but Mr. Wood and his companions did 
not see a single palm remaining. ‘The principal part of 
the ruins is enclosed by a wall, ereatly decayed, and in 
some places barely traceable, being probably that erected 
by Justinian. Its circuit ts about three English miles. 

On a height beyond it. to the ‘north-west ‘Is a tower, 

which ‘is sdid to have been’ erected’ by an Arab chief 
about the end of the sixteerith ‘century: “.On the lower 
erounds, in all directions, are seen the tombs mentioned 
above, which are tall square towers; such of them as 
have been explored containing’ mummies, exactly resem- 
bling those of Egypt, and being in general elaborately 
adorned in the interior, like the sepulchres i in that country. 

Occupying a sinall space around the eastern extremity of 
the ruins, are some olive and corn-fields, divided from each 
other by enclosures of mud. ‘ Almost the whole ground 
within the walls,” says Mr.-Wood, “is covered swith 
heaps of marble.” The Arabs say that the ancient city 
extended far beyond the limits of the present walls, its 
circumference being fully ten miles.” Wherever the 
eround is dug.up within that space, the ruins‘of build- 
ings, they assert, are found. The fame of the founder 
of Tadmor still flourishes among its ruins. ‘“ All these 
michty vy A said the Arabs to Mr. Wood, . Solyman 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Novemperr 30, 1833. 


ebn Doud (So.omon the son of a did | the 
assistance of spirits”? = | 

The ruins extend from the uth: ent to the north- 
west, in an unbroken line of nearly a mile and a half in 
length. At the eastern extremity stands the most mag 
nificent building of the whole, that which ‘is supposed 
to have been the Temple of the Sun. We shall give a_ 
description of this noble ruin, accompanied with a view; 
in our next Number. The enclosed court around the - 
temple is a square, each side of which is 660 feet in 
leneth, the great gate of entrance being to the west. 
It is within this court that the tribe of Arabs who ocenpy 
the place have erected their mud cottages, to the number 
of thirty or forty. To the west of the temple’ is ‘a Turkish 
mosque, im ruins too, like the’ more ‘ancient : ‘structures 
around it. A little way beyond this, in’the same ‘direc- 
tion, is the stately arch, of which, ‘as‘seen from the ‘east, 

a representation is given, from. Mr. Wood’s book, at the 
enti of this notice.’ This is the ‘entrance’ to ‘a portico 
which extends in a horth-west direction | for the amazing 
leneth of nearly 4000 feet; till it terminates at-the se- 
pulchre. The columns: of: which it Was: ‘formed; some 
entire and erect, others broken or prostrate, ' or both, are 
strewed over the whole of this long’ line. *Amiong the 
other buildings is one which had been a Christian chiireh., 
Another, a little to -the'west- of that, consists of: four 
immense columns, towering toa height far above evéry- 
thing’ around, and ‘sarmounted by’ an” entablature ’ of 
surpassing richness. ’? The building; which’ appears, from 
the inscription on’ it to’ have been ‘erected: “by” Diocletian, 
is near the’ north*western’ ‘terinination of the’ ‘vast: field 


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*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 59. Lincoln's Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHY, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. at a 





Printed by Wirttram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, al 2 





‘ Monthly Supplement of 


LHE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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107.] 





Ociober 31, to November 30, 1833. ; 





THE COMMERCIAL HISTORY OF A PENNY MAGAZINE.—No. Il. 


COMPOSITORS’ WORK AND STEREOTYPING. 





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In, a very curious set of prints by L. Galle, after the 
designs of Stradanus, a painter who flourished im the 
latter end of the sixteenth century, are represented many 
operations in the arts, as they were practised at that 
period. We have copied, as above, his view of a print- 
-ing-office. - On the right is the master printer, a grave, 
bearded personage, dressed in a fur-trimmed robe, appa- 
rently giving some directions to his workmen. These 
cousist of several compositors, comfortably seated on 
cushioned stools; the dirk of one is in a Sheath by his 
side, and the sword of another rests against a column. 
This ancient privilege of the compositors of all countries 
to wear swords still forms a imatter of pride with the 
printers of the present day; for it affords a proof that 


their art was considered a liberal one, and that men of 


birth aud education were accustomed to practise it. The 
printers of Paris were thus authorized to wear swords 
by a royal ordinance of 1571. ‘he.costume must have 
strangely contrasted with the paper cap which the printers 
of Paris then wore, and which they still wear. Near 
one of the compositors in our print is an old man in 
spectacles, who is probably engaged in the business of a 
reader, which we shall have to explain. ‘The men at 
work at the two rude presses, the further one inking the 
types, and the other pulling down the screw which gives 
the impression, exhibit the mode then employed to work 
off the sheets, which must have been particularly slow. 


To this we shall advert when we come to speak of the | 


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printing press and the machine. Altogether this print 
appears to show that, in the ancient printing- offices, there 
were few mechanical aids-to labour; and we may infer 
that the compositors especially; comfortably seated, and 
somewhat. luxuriously clothed, were not much affected 
by that spirit’ of restless activity which distinguishes a 
modern printing-office. ~ ’ rt 
There is a well-authenticated story of an English 
clergyman, who taught himself the printing art, and 
carried it on’with a persevering devotion to one object, 
of which we have no other example. -'This good man 
had projected a complete body of divinity in a great 
many volumes. He proposed his scheme to several 
publishers, but they all rejected it. He then caused 
copies of several volumes to be printed by subscription. 
He was determined, how- 
ever, that his literary labours should not be deprived 
of that chance of immortality which’ the printing-press, 
to a certain extent, can bestow. He bought a few 
types, enough to set up two pages, and thus scantily 
provided, he ‘undertook the wonderful task of printing, 
not a simall tract, or even one goodly volume, but a great 
number of volumes. When his two pages were arranged, 
he printed off ‘fourteen copies at a little press which he 
had established in his house. The types were then broken 
up to allow him to print the two next pages ; and thus 
with a tortoise pace he printed away for some twenty years, 
and at last completed his work in twenty-six volumes. 
3 O 


AGO 


A. sopy of this remarkable production is said to exist in 
ihe British Museum, and the story; with all its details, 
may be found in the ‘ Pursuit of Knowledge ‘under 
Difficulties. 7 

‘The reader will at once comprehend, from tlis story, 
that the sé{ting up of types, one by one, so as to pro- 
duce s¥llables, words, sentences, paragraphs, chapters, 
nnd books, is essentially a slow operation,—a much 
slower operation than copying with a pen,—an opera- 
tion which would be worthless except it were possible 
aud desirable to produce many copies from the types 
thus set up. Taking the labour of the clergyman as 
worth fifty pounds a year, his work for twenty years 
would amount to one thousand pounds, and therefore 
each of his six copies cost more than one hundred and 
fifty pounds. Ifhe had applied the same manual labour 
to any ordinary art, such as shoemaking for instance, In 
which manual labour is not much assisted by.the divi- 
sion of enployments and mechanical aids, he would pro- 
bably have added a thousand pounds to the wealth of 
the commnnity. As it was, he only amused himself. 

The slow and profitless toil of this harmless recluse 
presents a striking contrast to the intense energy dis- 
played in a large London printing office. ‘here are 
several establishments of this nature in which, we have 
no hesitation in saying, the division of labour is brought 
to such perfection, that a volume or volumes, con- 
taining as many words as the clergyman’s thirty 
volumes, and, therefore, requiring as much of the com- 
positor’s labour, could be printed in a week. In this 
respect nothing is more remarkable than the extraordi- 
nary rapidity with which the bills and reports of the 
House of Commons are printed by Messrs. Hansard. 
We have before us the first Report of the Commissioners 
of Factories Inquiry. It contains about 1200 folio printed 
pages. 
15 words each, or 72 lines of 80 letters; so that the 
volume contains 1,296,000 words, or 6,912,000 letters. 
A good compositor can pick up abont 19,000 letters in a 
day, so that it would take one compositor 460 days to 
produce the text of this volume. But, in addition to 
this, there are the side notes of ‘the Report, which 
would occupy at least a fourth more of the time; making 
the total time that it would occupy one compositor to 
produce this book, 600 days, or two working years. 
This Report was ordered by the House of Commons to 
be printed on the 28th of June, and was laid complete 
upon the table of the House, about the 10th of July— 
in less than a fortnight. Such haste does not involve 
any necessary want of accuracy. ‘These wonderful 
effects are produced by a perfect division of labour, in 
which there is activity without hurry, and in which the 
superintending mind is the moving and regulating 
power of a human machine, composed of many parts, 
but all working in harmony to the same end. 

Let us now examine a printing office a little more in 
detail. In Mr. Clowes’s establishinent, which we noticed 
in our last Number, we enter a very long room, in whicl: 
from fifty to sixty compositors are constantly employed. 
Each man works at a sort of desk called a frame, and in 
most instances he has the desk or frame to himself. ‘The 
. frames project laterally from the wall ;—at intervals 
there are large tables with stone tops, technically 
called imposing stones. The visitor will see no presses 
in the room with the compositors, as iu the old Dutch 
print. These branches of business are separated, for 
the pressman pursues a noisy vocation, while the com- 
positor is, or ought to be, silent. ‘The one press in the 
composing-room is merely for taking off proofs. Nor 
will the visitor see any old gentleman in spectacles occu- 
pied merely in reading. ‘The business of a reader re- 
quires even Inore silence than that of a compositor, and 
die, theretore, has a closet to himself. The workmen 
in each frame are by no means so dingy in their appear- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMEN®? OF 


Each page holds upon an average 72 lines of] 


| NoveMBER OQ, 


ace as some people think, when they call all printers 
by the name which from time immemorial has beer 
bestowed upon the errand-boy of the office. Everybody 
has heard of the printer’s devil,-—that 


“ Young thing of darkness, seeming 
A small poor type of wickedness *.’’ 


a 


But the compositors have nothing to say.to. this title, 
any more than they have to the swords and the pedi- 
orees of the labourers in the offices of the Alduses and 
the Stephenses. ‘They are cleanly, well-dressed, intelli- 
gent-looking, active artisans; not~much thinking about 
the matter of the work they have in hand, but properly 
intent upon picking up as many letters in the hour as 
may be conipatible with following their copy correctly, 
and of producing what is ealled a clean proof,—that is, a 
proof, or first impression, with very few mistakes of 
words or letters. , : 
Each frame, at which a compositor works, is con- 
structed to hold two pair of cases. ach pair of cases 
contains all the letters of the alphabet, whether small 
letters or capitals, as well as points, figures, &c., &c. 
Onie of these pair of cases is occupied by the Roman 
letéers, the other by the Léalzc. The upper case is divided 
into ninety-eight partitions, all of equal size: and these 
partitions contain two sets of capital letters, one deno- 
minated ‘ full capitals,” the other ‘ small ;” one set of 
figures; the accented vowels ; and the marks of refer- 
ence for notes. ‘The lower case is divided into partitions 
of four different sizes; some at the top and ends being 
a little smaller than the divisions of the upper case ; 
others nearer the centre being equal to two of the small 
divisions ; others equal to four; and one equal to six. 
In all there are fifty-three divisions in the lower ease. 
The inequality in the size of the cells of the lower case 
is to provide for the great differences as to the quantity 
required of each letter. According to the language in 
which it is used, one letter is much more fréquently 
wanted than another; and the proportions required of 
each have been pretty accurately settled by long experi- 
ence. As some of our readers may be curious to know 
these proportions as they apply to the English language, 
we subjoin tle type-founder’s scale for the small cha- 
racters of a fount of letter of a particular size and weight > 


a 8500 h 6400 o 8000 v 1200 
b 1600 1 8000 p 1700 w 2000 
c 3000 j 409 q 500 x 409 
d 4400 k 800 r 6200 y 2000 
e 12000 1 4000 s 8000 Z 200 
f 2500 m 3000 t 9000 

g 1700 n 8000 u 3400 


The proportion in which a particular letter is required, 
renders it necessary that the cells of the lower case 
should be arranged, not as the letters follow each other 
alphabetically, but that those in most frequent use should 
be nearest the hand of the compositor. ‘The point to 
which he brings the letters, after picking them up out of 
their cells, is uct far removed from the centre of the 
lower case; so that imarange of about six inches on 
every side, he can obtain the ec, d, e, 1, 8, m, n, h, o, p, 
u, t, a, and r, the letters 11 most frequent use. ‘The 
spaces, which he wants for the division of every word, 
lie close at his haud at the bottom of the central division 
of the lower case. It must be quite obvious that thie 
inan who contrived this arrangemeut saved a vast deal 
of time to the compositor. We see in the old Dutch 
print that the cases are divided into equal compartments ; 
so that it is probable that this ingenious priuciple was 
not introduced amongst the early printers, We have 
always observed that a stranger to the art is surprised 
at the accuracy with which a compositor dips his fingers 
into the box containing the letter which he requires. 
This surprise is generally connected with an opinion, 


“* ¢London Magazine,” 1823, 2 


1833.) 


that the compositor would do his work more correctly 
if the boxes were labelled. A very inexpert performer 
upon the piano will, nevertheless, strike any one of the 
seventy-eight notes without making a mistake; and inthe 
same way the youngest boy of a printing-office very soon 
learns the places of the letters without any difficulty. 

Let us now for a little while follow the compositor in 
the progress of his work. 

Standing before the pair of cases which contain the 
Roman letter, he holds in his left hand what is called 
a composing-stick. This is a little iron or brass frame, 
one side of which is moveable, so that it may be adjusted 
to the required width of the page or column which the 
workman has to set up. It is made perfectly true and 
square; for without such accuracy the lines would be of 
unequal length. It is adapted to contain not more than 
about twelve lines of the type of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ 
This little instrument is represented in the cut below. 


————————————— ——— 
= ———— —— a 





Ot iu Alki ime HE re Be 

Hite Hi iH : mii hte ail Asi T WE it) j 
e ni is | i) i i T eet) | iL be " & f 
Auth | EAL TEL NFER A 





Composin g-Stick. ] 


The copy from which the compositor works rests upon 
the least-used part of the upper case. The practised 
compositor takes in a line or two at a glance, always 
provided the author writes an intelligible hand,—which 
virtue is by no means universal. One by one, then, tle 
compositor puts the letters of each word and sentence 
into his stick, securing each letter with the thumb of his 
left hand, which is therefore continually travelling on 
from the beginning to the end of a line. His right 
hand goes mechanically to the box which he requires ; 
but his eye is. ready to accompany its movements. In 
each letter there is a nick, or nicks, which indicates the 
bottom edge of the letter; and the nick must be placed 
outwards in his composing-stick. Further, the letter 
must also be placed with the face upwards, so that two 
right positions‘must be.combined in the arrangement of 
the types. IPf the compositor were to pick up the letter 
at random, he would most probably have to turn it 
in his hand; and as it is important to save every un- 
necessary movement, his eye directs him to some one of 
the heap which lies in the right position, both as regards 
the face being upwards and the nick being outwards. 
This nick is one of those pretty contrivances for saving 
Jabour which experience has introduced into every art, 
and which are as valuable for diminishing the cost of 
production as the ‘more elaborate inventions of ma- 
chinery. When he arrives at the end of his line, the 
compositor has a task to perform, in which the careful- 
ness of the workman is greatly exhibited. The first 
ietter and the last must be at the extremities of the line: 
there can be no spaces left in some instances, and no 
crowding in others, as we see in the best manuscript. 
Each metal type is of a constant thickness, as far as 
regards that particular letter ; though all the letters are 
not of the same thickness. The adjustments, therefore, 
to complete the line with a word, or, at any rate, with a 
syllable, must be made by varying the thickness: of the 
spaces between each word. <A good compositor is dis- 
tinguished by nniformity of spacing: he will not allow 
the words to be very close together in some instances, or 
with a large gap between them in others. His duty is 
to equalize the spacing as much as he possibly can; and 
this is, in some cases, very troublesome. When the 
workman has filled. his stick, as it is called,—that is, 
has set up as many lines as his stick will conveniently 
hold,—he lifts them out into what is termed a galley, by 
grasping them with the fingers of each hand, and thus 
taking them up as if they were a solid piece of metal, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, — 


46T 
The facility with which some compositors can lift about 
what is called a handful of moveable type, without 
deranging a single letter, is very remarkable. This sort 
of skill can only be attained by practice ; and thus one of 
the severest mortifications which the printer’s apprentice 
has to endure, is to toil for an hour or two in picking 
up several thousand letters, and then see the fabric 
destroyed by his own clumsiness, leading him to mourn 
over his heap of broken type,—technically called pie,— 
as a child mourns over his fallen house of cards. 

Letter by letter, and word by word, is the composi Nov- 
stick filled; and by the same progression the galley is 
filled by the contents of successive sticks. In the in- 
tance of the ‘Penny Magazine,’ and in that of newspapers 
and most other periodical works, 2 proof is taken before 
the types are made up into pages. In books, however, 
when the compositor has set up as many lines as fill a 
page, he binds them tightly round with cord, and places 
them under his frame. We need ‘scarcely say that the 
sizes of books greatly vary; but they are all reducible 
to a standard determined by the number of leaves into 
which a sheet of paper is folded. “The most common 
size is called octavo, the size of the ‘ Library of Useful 
Knowledge,’ and this contains 16 pages to the sheet : 
the next is duodecimo, the size of the ‘ British Almanac,’ 
containing 24 pages to a sheet ; and the next octodecimo, 
or eighteens, containing 36 pages in a sheet, which is 
the size of Miss Martineau’s ‘ Illustrations of Political 
Economy.’ There are many other sizes, such as the 
larger quarto, and the smaller ¢éwenty-fours. In every 
case when a sheet or sheets is complete, the composilors 
arrange the pages in proper order upon the imposing 
stone; surround each page with pieces of wood called 
furniture, so as to leave an equal margin to every page ; 


-and, finally, wedge the whole tightly:together in a stout 


iron frame, called a chase. If the work is properly exe- 
cuted, the pages thus wedged up, constituting one side 
of a sheet, termed.a form, are perfectly tight and coin- 
pact; and the form may be carried about with as much 
ease as if it were composed of solid plates, instead of 
beg formed of 40,000, or 50,000, or even 100,000 
moveable pieces. - tee. 

Whether the lines which a compositor ‘sets up are 
made into pages, and imposed as a sheet, or whether a 
proof is taken of them in an earlier stage, such as we 
have described to be tle process in the ‘ Penny Maga- 
zine, the business of the reader commences immediately 
after that of the compositor. No one unacquainted with 
the details of a printing-office can conceive the great 
differences between the correctness of one compositor and 
of another. ‘The differences in the talent, the acquired 
knowledge, and even the moral habits of ditlerent men, 
are the causes of these remarkable variations. A proof 
shall be brought to the reader produced by the joint 
labour of two or three compositors of different degrees 
of merit. In a particular part of it he will find one letter 
constautly substituted for another, although the sense is 
upon the whole given correctly: this is the work of the 
careless and slovenly compositor, who does not take the 
trouble to look over the types as he sets them up line 
by line. He is a bad economist. of his own time; for-he 
has to correct all these faults at last, without making 
any charge for his correction;.and he corrects them 
with much less ease in the second stage than in the first. 
Again, in another part of the proof, although the merely 
literal faults may be very few, there is a perpetual sub- 
stitution of one word for another. This is the work of 
the ignorant or conceited compositor, who jumps at 
the meaning of his author, and thus contrives to pro- 
duce the most ludicrous errors in his original proofs, and 
to insinuate some error or other into the most carefully 
corrected book. We have seen proofs in which an ode 
to a Grecian urn was translated into an ode to a Grecian 
nose; in which Queen Mab was drawn by a team of 

: 302 


463 


little attorneys, instead of the little ‘ atomies? of Shak- 
speare; and the aromatic principles of the English con- 
stitution, instead of the democratic, made us think of a 
Persian court, rich with all delicate odours, instead of the 
House of Commons and the hustings. Caleb White- 
ford, who is celebrated by Goldsmith in his poem of 
‘Retaliation,’ published an amusing collection of ‘ Mis- 
takes of the Press ;’ but his most ingenious inventions 
could not compare to the real blunders which are some- 
times offered to the printer’s reader. 
may present, and it very often does so, a most favourable 
specimen of what may be effected by carefulness and 
oood sense. A wrong letter will not occur in twenty 
lines; a gross mistake never occurs; and, what is still 
more surprising, while the compositor has been engaged 
in an operation almost purely mechanical, he will have 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


Lastly, the proof | 


[Novemuer 30, 


and produced a harmony in that most difficult depart- 
ment of literary labour, which is seldom attaisied except 
by long experience. Such a compositor 1s always pro- 
perly estimated in a printing-office. ‘The best work is 
generally put into his hands; and he is enabled to exe- 
cute it with so much facility, that his earnings are often 
nearly double those of the ignoraut and slovenly work- 
man. 

We subjoin, what will be useful to many persons, an 
exemplification of the marks which are used in correcting 
a printers proof. The passage furnishing the exampie 
may be found in the first number of ‘ The Commercial 
History of a Penny Magazine,’ page 376, aud the reader 
may amuse himself by comparing the passage, as it is 
correctly printed, with the following specimen of a 


printer's bad proof, in which every possible variety of 


corrected the generally loose punctuation of the author, 


error is introduced :— 


al 


a of The prébcess of printing, when compared with that of 
S coped of 


ao 


2 


TH singrole copy inconsiderable. If, for example, it were 


Writing, is unquestionably a-dear- process; provided a 4, teafy 
sufficient number of any particular bookare printed, so 4 Ht 


as to renper the pro portion of the first expense upon a 
io ~/ 


= 


required, even at the present moment time, to print a £/J 


single copy, or even three (copies \or four, only ofany g be 


production, the cost of printing would be greater than 
the cost of transcribing. 
‘Tt is when hundreds. and especially thousands, of the 7 


of 
printing press in. maknig knowledge cheap, is _par- 
ticularly shown. [It is probable that the first printers 7? NMP 


did not take off more than two or three hundred, if so 


same work are demanded that the great value of the 


take” wa 


Dea Le prey, | aes and ‘ 


MEAT 


dL lo 


many, of their works ‘ and, therefore, the earliest printed 


DLONADE. 


books must have been still dear, on account of the 


limited number of their readers. CaxrTon, as it appears / CU. CL 





and 4 


sell enough of any particular book to repay the cost of 
producing it In his ‘ Legends of Saints,’ he says, “I ao Y, caufed 


have submysed (submitted) myself to translate into . | . 


PLLA mmm 


aL 


6 o/ 
: a ee ae ; © = 

fA f English the , Saintsfof Legend,’ called ae 

23 Cafid [is Latin; and William, Earl of ———— me a a 


? 
C) 


CAULE 


- 
™ 














5 worship gentleman, promising that my said lord 
should, during: myflife, olve and grant to mea yearly fee, 26 4 
that js ¢2 BOte, a buck in summer and a doe in winter, UY 
1. Is the mark for changing the wrong letter in the word process, 


. To substitute one word for another, 
. and 24. The first is the method of marking a short insertion, the second of marking a long one. 
. To have a blank space put between the two words. 

- Tv close the word in which a space has been improperly left. 
.and 8. To take away (de/e, blot out) a superfluous letter or word. 
. 12. and 22. Different marks for transposing the arrangement of letters, words, or sentences. 
- To have no fresh paragraph. 

. To commence a new paragraph. 
- To have any particular part printed in Italic. 
: To have words or letters printed in ‘ lower case, or small letters; Roman is always understood, unless otherwise directed. 
. To have a word remain, which has been accidentally or erroneously marked. 
. Points out a letter which does not match with the others; a ¢ wrong fount.’ 
.and 23. Tc have certain parts printed in small or full capitals. 

. To set straight whatever may stand crooked. 

. To remove the unnecessary black mark between the words, which arises from what 


5. To turn a letter which has been placed upside down. 


ad 


11, ‘To substitute a comma for a full-point or period. 
14.19.21. and 27, To insert points and marks of quotation. 


Stet is the Latin for “ fet it stand.” 


: — + ‘ 
pushed down. should form the space not having been 


1833.] 


When the ordinary reader of a newspaper, or of a 
book,» meets with an occasional blunder either of a letter 
or a word, he is apt to ‘cry out upon the carelessness 
with which the newspaper or book is printed. It is in 
the very nature of the process of producing words and 
sentences by the putting together of moveable types, 
that a great many blunders should be made by the com- 
positor in thie first stage, which nothing but the strictest 
vigilance can detect and get rid of. he ordinary pro- 
cess of correction is for the printer’s reader to look upon 
the proof, while another person, generally a boy, reads 
the copy aloud. As he proceeds the reader marks, in 
the mauner just shown, all the errors which present 
hemselves upon a first perusal. The proof then goes 
back-to the compositor; and here a business ‘of great 
Jabour and. difficulty ensues. The omitted words and 
jetters have to be introduced, and the incorrect words 
and letters have to be replaced by the correct. The 
introduction of two or three words will sometimes. de- 
range the order of a dozen lines; and the omission of a 
sentence will involve the re-arrangement of many pages. 
In this tedious process new blunders are oftentimes 
created ; and these again can only be remedied by after 
vigilance. ‘he first corrections being perfected, the 
reader has what is called a revise. He compares this 
with his first proof, and ascertains that all his corrections 
have been properly made. In this stage of the business 
the proof generally goes to the author; and it is rarely 
that the most practised author does not feel it necessary 
to make considerable alterations. ‘The complicated pro- 
cess cf correction is again to be gone over. ‘The printer’s 


reader and the author have again revises; and what: 


they again correct is again attended to. The proof 
being now tolerably perfect, the labour of another reader 
is in most large establishments calied in. It is his 
business to read for press—that is, to search for the 
minutest errors with a spirit of the most industrious criti- 
cism. The author has often to be consulted upon the 
queries of this captious personage, who ought to be as 
acute in discovering a blunder, as a conveyancer i find- 
ine out a flaw in a title-deed. But in spite of all this 
activity blunders do creep in;.and the greatest morti- 
fication that an author can experience is the lot of almost 






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Ale ALYY 

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dai tty fy t Pre LARS) Py 
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ft 


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j ; : ih 


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| (Frames, Cases, é 


“ (HE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


469 


every author,—namely, to take up his book, after the 
copies have gone out to the world, and find some ab: 
surdly obvious mistake, which glares upon him when 
he first opens the book, and which, ir spite of his 
conviction that: it was never there before, has most 
likely escaped his own eye, and that of every other 
hunter of errors that the best printing-office can pro- 
duce. 

When the sheet is finally corrected for press, the work 
of the compositor is for a time at an end; but when it 
is printed off, or when a stereotype cast has been taken 
from the moveable types, it is a part of his business, and 
for which he is paid nothing additional, to return the 
types to the cases from which they were taken. This 
operation is called distribution. It is a most beautiful 
process in the hands of an expert compositor; and pro- 
bably no act which is partly mental and partly mecha- 
nical offers a more remarkable example of the dexterity 
to be acquired by long practice. The workman holding 
a quantity of the type in his left hand as it has been 
arranged in lines, keeping the face towards him, takes 
up one or two words between the forefinger and thumb 
of his right hand, and drops the letters, each into its 
proper place, with almost inconceivable rapidity. His 
mind has to follow the order of the letters in the words, 
and to select the box into which each is to be dropped, 
while his fingers have to separate one letter from ano- 
ther, taking care that only one letter is dropped at a time. 
‘This 1s a complicated act; and’yet a good compositor will 
distribute three or four times as fast as he composes,— 
that is, he will, if necessary, return to their proper places 
20,000 letters a day. The letters being inverted in 
printing are not read as they are read ina book, and thus 
“to know his p’s from his q’s”’ is a difficulty to a be- 
oinner. 

We subjoin a wood-cut which exhibits the compositor 
composing in his frame, and a second frame which more 
distinctly shows the shape of a pair of cases. Standing 
against the empty frame to the left is a form of four folio 
pages, supposed to represent the form of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine: at the other end of the same frame is an 


empty chase similar to that in which the pages are 
wedged up. 


fe : 
a oe f a Ng wt 
is reh = t/ISS} w }! 


¢ 
nil 


1 
y 


a 


. RTT 


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io ] TTT a \ 73 
! ae i af i 
\ b i \ bs SST Se 
' —— : . 1 ’ 1 ; 











sli 








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i 
‘hk 


mil 


i 


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a =— 
- —— 















tf] f 
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470. _ MONTH LY SUPPLEMENT OF [NoveaBer 20, 


It is in this stage; when the pages of the ‘ Penny Maga- 
vine’ have been rendered as correct as ihe care of several 


readers can ensure, and when the original wood-cuts | 
have been inserted in their proper places, that the pro- | 


cess of stereotyping commences. ‘Phis process 1s by no 
means universally applied to all printed books, Its 
seeuliar advantages are confined to works In very. large 
demand, and of which the demand is continued long 
after thé first publication. In the case of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ there is another great advantage aflorded by 
this pracess, namely, the facility of procuring several 
inetal copies, or plates, of each numper, as we shall pre- 


sontly explain. In the mean time we would direct the | 
reader’s attention to a brief account of the process of 


stercatyping. | 

The first operation is that of taking a mould from, 
each page of moveable types. ‘The pages are not ar- 
ranged as they would be combined Ina sheet, and wedged 
up together in one iron frame or chiase, but each page is 


put in a separate chase. ft 1s essential that the face of | 
the types should be perfectly clean and dry, and that no | 
particle of dirt or other substance should attach to the | 
bettom of the types, so as to prevent them being com- | 


pletely level upon the surface. The page is now placed. 


pon the lower part of a moulding-frame, represented | 


in the following cut :— 





([Moulding-Frame.} 


The upper part of the frame is somewhat larger than 
the page, and the margin of mould thus formed deter- 
mines the thickness of the plate. The types having been 
previously rubbed over with an oily composition, gypsum 
(plaster of Paris) is poured evenly over the whole sur- 
face. Almost every one knows that this substance, 
although moulded in a liquid state, sets very quickly, 
and soon becomes perfectly solid. ‘There is a good deal 
of nicety required from the workman, not only in form- 
ing the mould, but in removing it from the type. If any 
part of the plaster adheres to the face of the type, the 
mould is of course imperfect, and the operation must be 
gone over again. To prevent this, considerable care 1s 
required in the preparation of the @ypsum, and much 
neatness of hand in separating the mould from the page. 
Having been removed and found perfect, it requires 
some dressing with a knife on its edges, and several 
notches are cut in the margin to allow the metal to enter 
the mould. It is now fit for baking. This process also 
requires a good deal of accurate knowledge. ‘Lhe oven 


in which the moulds are placed upon their edges must } 


be kept at a very regular temperature; for if it be too 


hot, the moulds warp. The process of casting begins | 





types. The caster now breaks off the superfluous metal 


~ 


when the moulds have been baked sufficiently.long to ve 
perfectly dry and hard. The casting-boz, which contais, 
the mould, is represented in the following cut :— 


= = Taine a 
Aullgy 


ar il 
tk 1 
hi 1 


i 


[Casting Box.] 


At the bottom of the pot is a moveable plate of cast- 


| iron, called a floating-plate; and upon this plate, the 
| face of which is perfectly accurate, the mould is placed 
{with its face downwards. Upon the back of the mould 


rests the cover of the casting-box, the inside face of whose _ 
lid is also perfectly true. ‘The cover is held tightly down 


| upon the mould by a screw, connected with two shackles, 
fas shown in the ebove cnt; and also by two 2tppers, — 
| belonging to the apparatus for plunging the pot into the 

/ metal pit, as shown in the cut of the last page. This 


apparatus, which is attached to a crane, is so constructed — 
as to swing with a perfectly horizontal motion; aud the 
casting-pot, with the mould, being thus suspended over 


\the metal pit, is gradually forced down into the molten 


mass, and there kept steady by a lever and weight. 
The lid of the box, it will be observed, is cut off at the 
corners; and it is through these spaces that the iow 





enters the box, and insinuates itself. into every hollow 
When the box is plunged into the metal, a bubbling” 
noise is heard, which is caused by the expulsion of the 
air within the box. After having remained immersed 
for about ten minutes, it is steadily lifted out by the 
crane, and swung to a cooling trough, in which the 


| under side of the box is exposed to water. Deing com- 


pletely cooled, the caster proceeds to remove the mould 
from the casting-box. The plaster mould, the plate 
moulded, and the floatine-plate, are all solidly fixed 
together. The metal, by its specific gravity, has forced 
itself under the floating-plate, which it has consequently 
driven tightly up against the ledges of the mould. The 
mould has in the same way been driven tightly up 
against the lid of the casting-box. The notches in the 
ledges of the mould have, at the same time, admitted the 
metal into the minutest impression from the face of the 













and the ledges of the mould with a wooden mallet, as 
shown in the wood-cut. The mould is of course de- 
stroyed ; and if another plate is required, another mould 
must be taken from the types. After the superfluous 


metal and the plaster are removed, the stereotype plate 


7a 
r 
T 


comes out bright and well formed. But the plate is not 
yet complete. Its proper thickness cannot be determined 
by the mould alone ; and the back is therefore turneG 
in a beautifully-contrived lathe, in which the plate re 
volves against a cutting tool, and a perfectly true surface 


lis obtained by the superfluous parts being cut away 


in a series of concentric circles. Again, the very bes! 
casting cannot prevent occasional defects in the face 0: 
the plate. It requires therefore to be minutely examined 


1833.) 


by a workman called a picker. It is his business to re- 
move the small globules of metal which occasionally fill 
up such letters as the @ and thee; to insert a new letter, 
which he can dtu by soldering, if any one be broken; 
and, what is a still more delicate operation, to remove 
with his graver any impurities which fill up the lines of 
u wood-cut. ‘To execute this latter duty properly, he 
ought to be in some degree an artist, and possess the 
keen eye and the steady hand of an engraver. 
_ It will be seen from this imperfect deseription, that the 
process of stereotyping is one which demands considerable 
labour, and occupies a great deal of time. In the various 
stages of preparing the mould, of regulating the propor- 
tions of the metal, of casting the plate, and of subsequently 
examining and correcting it, much skill and experience 
are demanded. At the commencement of the ‘ Penny Ma- 
gazine, we had considerable difficulty in procuring clean 
und sliarp impressions of the wood-cuts ; partly from the 
circumstance that the wood-cuts themselves were not well 
adapted to be moulded, and partly that the composition 
of the plate-metal was not so well understood as it now 
is.. At present, the workmen in Mr. Clowes’s foundry 
very rarely fail in producing good casts; and the pickers 
have learnt to clear out the filled-up parts of a cast from 
a wood-cut without injury to its effect. Still the process 
altogether is tedious and laborious. The reader will 
have perceived that stereotyping is distinctly superadded 
to the operation of printing from moveable types. When 
a jorm is pertectly corrected, it is ready at once to be laid 
ou the press or machine, without any further preparation ; 
but when a mould is to be taken from it, and a plate to 
be cast from that mould, the moulding and the casting 
involve so much additional labour and expense. Stereo- 
typing is therefore applicable only in peculiar cases ; 
but in those cases it is so valuable, that it may be pro- 
nounced absolutely necessary to the production of cheap 
books in large nuinbers, and therefore a most important 
auxiliary in the diffusion of knowledge by the printing 
press. Jet us follow out this assertion by taking the 
example of this very Number of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ 
This supplementary number will be out of the com- 
positors’ hands, that is, it will be completely read and 
corrected, on ‘Tuesday evening, the 19th of November. 
This is two or three days later than the ordinary time, a 
elear fortnight beine usually allowed for working off the 
first impression of 160,000. ‘The operation of casting 
will delay the working off for more than twenty-four 
hours; that is, if the moveable types were used, the 
machine would be working off the impressions from 
them on Wednesday morning, whereas the stereotype 
plates will not begin to be wrought off till the middle of 
Thursday. But the process of stereotyping has enabled 
us, during this time, to have ready fwo sets of plates 
from each page of moveable types. At the compara- 
tively small expense of casting, we have saved the labour 
of having the text composed twice over, and the much 
ereater labour and expense of having duplicate wood- 
cuts. If stereotyping had not existed, we must still 
lhave incurred this expense; because, by working off ¢wo 
Penny Magazines upon a double sheet, instead of one 
Penny Nlagazine upon a szngle sliect, we obtain our 
number of copies by 80,000 revolutions of a cylinder 
instead of by 160,000. Here, therefore, is a ereat eco- 
nomy of labour produced by having a double set of stereo- 
type plates. But excellence: of workmanship is also en- 
sured by this arrangement. If our wood-cuts were sub- 
jected to 160,000 inkings, and 160,U00 pressures of a 
cylinder, they would be irreparably injnred long before 
ihe last impression was worked off; and those customers 
who obtained only the latter impressions would find a 
blurred and blotted engraving instead of one that is 
sharp and distinct, But the economy does not cease 
here: we can take as many casts as we please from the 
moveable types. In fact we always take six sets of 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


471 


plates, to replace those which begin to wear, and to pro- 
vide against aecidents. With this Supplement we are 
somewhat late. We remedy the evil by working four 
sets of plates instead of two ; employing two machines 
instead of one. With one set of plates we should require 
twenty days to produce 160,000 copies; with two sets 
of plates we require only ten days; and with four sets of 
plates we require only five days. 

But there is another advantage which stereotyping 
gives us, in allowing us to multiply casts to any ex- 
tent. Wecan assist foreign nations in the production: 
of § Penny Magaziues 7 and we can thus not only 
obtain the hivh moral advantage of giving a tone to the 
popular literature of other nations, which shall be favour-~ 
able to peace, and a right understanding of our common 
interests, but we can improve our own ‘ Penny Magazine’ 
out of the profit which accrues from the sale of these 
easts. The American Government has a tariff, or duty, 
of 33 per cent. upon all foreten books imported into the 
United States. This tariff would prevent the ‘ Penny 
Magazine’ being sold at two cents (nearly a penny), 
and would probably advance it to three cents. We 
send our pages stereotyped to a booksellerat New York, 
who employs American labour and American paper in 
working them off. By thus avoiding the tariff he can 
sell the ‘ Penny Magazine’ at two cents. Further, the 
art of wood-cutting is imperfectly understood in France 
and Germany. We sell, therefore, to France and Ger- 
many casts of our wood-cuts, at a tenth of what it would 
cost them to have them re-engraved. ‘These countries 
are thus enabled to produce their ‘ Magasin Pitto- 
resque, and their § Pfenta-flagastn.’ This ‘literary 
interconrse may appear to some people to be of trifling 
importance; but that circumstance cannot be uninte- 
resting which has a tendency to direct the popular read- 
ing of four great countries into the same channels; and 
which, by lessening the cost of producing cheap books 
in each of the eountries, leaves some capital free in each 
to be devoted to other intellectual objects. ‘These cir- 
cumstances are strikingly contrasted with the literary 
intercourse of France and England more than a century 
and ahalfago. LeJay, an eminent French advocate, in 
1645, published a polyglott bible in ten volumes. He 
refused to supply England with copies at a moderate 
price; and Dr. Walton’s polyglott was consequently 
undertaken here. That work was published in six 
volumes, 11 1657; and Le Jay was obliged to sell those 
copies of his book for waste-paper which he might have 
disposed of in England. ‘The production of two books 
of the same nature in both countries caused so much 
capital to be wasted in each as went to the production 
of the second book, and the destruction of part of the 
first. If that wasted capital had-been saved, it would 
have remained for the encouragement of other literary 
enterprises, by which both countries might have been 
This consideration shows the falla¢y of the 
argument that the large sale of cheap books hinders thie 
sale of books which cannot be produced at so low a price. 
The cheaper a book can be produced, the more capital 
remains with the consumers of the cheap books to en- 
courage other literary productions. 

And this brine’s us to the great and paramount ad- 
vantagwe of the stereotype process, namely, the economy 
of capital. ‘The mherent difficulty of the business of a 
publisher consists in the mistakes he may make in eal- 
culating the demand fora particular book. The demand 
for broad-cloth, or bacon, or any other article of plrysical 
necessity, does uot greatly vary. The demand for books 
depends, in a ceitain degree, upon fashion, and the 
prevailing current of public opinion. In books of a 
merely temporary mterest, or which are addressed only 
to particular classes, and deal with particular modes of 
thought, a publisher often loses very considerably by over- 
printing. Ln this case the copies which remain loeked 


472 


up in his warehouse for years, and are at last sold for 
waste-paper, absorb so much capital that might have been 
applied to other literary purposes if the demand for them 
had not ceased. But in books of universal interest, which 
address themselves to all classes, and which consequently 
may be sold cheap in the expectation of a large sale, the 
risk of over-production i is very much diminished. -But the 
publisher must still watch the demand. He must not run 
too much before it with his supply, for he may be ruined 
by his stock ;—he must not lag too much behind it with his 
supply, for he may. thus lose the market. Before the 
first Number of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ was issued, it 
was impossible to say whether the "periodical demand for 
the work would be 20,000 or 100,000 copies. Stereo- 
typing came tothe solution of the difficulty. It enabled 
the publisher then,. aud it enables him now, to adjust. the 
supply exactly to the demand. One hundred andsix Num- 
bers have been published, and yet the supply of any one 
has not fallen behind the demand a single day. Twenty 
million ‘ Penny Magazines’ have been issued from the 
commencement ; and yet the publisher has ‘rarely more 
than 2 or 300,000 in his warehouse.. A small quantity of 
each number can be worked off from the stereotype plates 
ata day’s notice ; and a little foresight, therefore, can 
always ensure that the market shall be supplied, while 
the stock is kept low. This is the great secret of all 
commercial success. . It is a secret which enables those 
who possess it to make a fortune with 5 ) per Cent. profit, 
while those who do not understand it are ruined with 
25 per cent. profit. It is the, leading principle of the 
philosophy of shopkeeping ; a subject upon which we 
may one day or other speak more at length. . 


The capital which is thus, saved by the process of | 
involving as it does all the savings of | Whatever diminishes the risk of the capitalist ‘ensures a 


stereotyping, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


[Noveuser 30, 188% 
. 


necessity goes to the encouragement of other literary 
enterprises, and of the various. labour which they involve. 
As long ago as the year 1725, Witham Ged, an inha- 
bitant of Edinburgh, discovered the principle of casting 
metal plates. He carried the principle into commercial 
operation, for he was actually engaged by the University 
of Cambridge to print bibles and prayer-books. ‘The 
compositors thought that the invention would injure 
their trade; and both they and the pressmen did every 
thing in their power to lessen the credit of Ged’s books, 
by secretly making errors in the moveable types after 
the pages had passed the reader. The bibles, therefore, 
were so defective, that the University was obliged to 
give up the scheme: .The art was revived, fifty years 
afterwards, by Mr. Tilloch, was subsequently prosecuted 
by Didot of Paris, and was ultimately brought to pretty 
nearly its present perfection by the late Lord Stanhope. 
If its progress had not been interrupted ‘for three-quar- 
ters of a century by the ignorance of Ged’s workmen, it 
iS probable that during all that time the cost of pro- 
ducing bibles and prayer-books, and other standard 
works, would have been materially diminished; and the 
capital thus saved would have reinained to have set the 
compositors and the pressmen to work in: other direc- 
tious. For the encouragement of all labdur’there must 
be a previous accumulation of the results ‘of labour, 
which becomes a real labour-fund for the’:payment of 7 
wages. - Every saving’ of previous’ labour renders this 
fund more productive for the encouragement of future 
labour. In the case of stereotyping for books of largemm 


numbers, not ouly is labour prevented from being wasted, 


but the equal évil of converting, active capital into dead 
and unproductive stock is at the same time prevented. 


interest, of insurance, ae warehonse-room, and all {hoe | more constant demand for labour, gir pet rors increases 
other, meeties charges which attach toa large Aa mic of | the rate of wages. | 


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The Office of the Society for the D fuston of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREETS, AND 13, PALL. MALL EAST. 
London: Printed by Winrram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


+ at 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[DecEemner 7, 1833. 





“THE GEYSERS, OR HOT FOUNTAINS OF ICELAND. 


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[ View of a Geyser, or Hot Fountain.] 


In the neighbourhood of the volcanic mountains of 
Iceland, the traveller frequently finds his way stopped 
by frightful rents in the earth, and deep fissures in the 
lava. He also treads on ground that sounds hollow 
beneath his feet; and there he sometimes hears the 
rushing of water in the concealed chasms over which he 
is walking, and at other times, where apertures occur in 
the thin crust of the earth, he sees steam issuing forth 
from the subterranean conduits aud towering in_the air. 
The volcanic fires which pour forth such tremendous 
eruptions from Mount Hecla, the Yokuls, and other 
craters, though, generally speaking, they do not exert 
their more terrific energies except after intervals of years, 


the generic name of these hot spouting springs, is derived 
from the Icelandic verb ‘* geysa,’”—‘ to rage, to burst 
forth violently.” The most important of the fountains 
at Haukadal is called the “ great geyser,’ and as it 
seems to be the greatest in Iceland, we shall more par- 
ticularly describe it. 

Whatever may be the activity of the numerous foun- 
tains that surround it, the great geyser is always the 
prominent object in the extraordinary scene. It is sur- 
rounded by a large circular mound formed by the earth 
and matter it has ejected and deposited during the course 
of ages. Internally this mound is hollow, presenting a 
basin about one hundred and fifty feet in circumference, 


are yet not extinct, but, burning unseen, extend far‘| which is ordinarily filled to the depth of about four feet 


from the craters themselves, and convert the waters that 
flow near them into boiling fluid and_ highly rarefied 
vapour, which at certain vents maintain perennial erup- 
tions. Instead of fire, smoke, liquid lava, lapille, and 
ashes, these vents or aqueous craters discharge columns 
of steam and spouts of boiling water; and instead of 
years, in most cases, only a few hours intervene between 
their efforts. 

The most important of these issues are at Haukadal, 
considerably in the rear of Hecla, whose three snow-clad 
summits towering over a ridge of intervening hills, are, 
however, visible from the spot. Here, within a very 


limited space, are some dozens of geysers, the clouds of | flows 


vapour they are constantly emitting being visible at the 
distance cf several miles. The term geyser, which is 
Vou. Tt. 


-action of boiling water. 


with boiling water, beautifully clear and crystalline. 
In the middle of this basin a pipe or funnel, about ten 
feet in diameter, but wider at top, descends perpendicu- 
larly in the earth to the depth of nearly eighty fect. It 
is this tube that is the veut of the subterranean action of 
fire and water. ‘The bottom and sides of the basin 
within the mound are covered with whitish siliceous in- 
crustations rendered perfectly smooth by the constant 
Two small channels open from 
the sides of the basin and allowalmost constant passage 
to some of the water. ‘This water, still hot and strongly 
impregnated with mineral matter, on leaving the mound 
through a turfy kind of soil, and by acting on the 
peat, mosses, and grass, gradually produces some of 
the most beautiful specimens of petrifaction. Leaves 
3 PP 


~ 


474 


of the birch, and of the other stunted trees which 
erow in that inhospitable climate, are also found im- 
crusted, so as to appear as of white stone, yet still preserv- 
ing not merely their general form but their minutest 
fibres unaltered. . 

All the Icelandic travellers agree in representing the 
eruptions of the great geyser as occurring at irregular 
intervals. We take our account of. an eruption from 
Dr. E. Henderson *, who visited and paid great atten- 
tion to the fountain in 1814 and 1815. Low reports 
and slight concussions of the ground give the first 
signal of coming violence. ‘Lhese symptoms are suc- 
ceeded by a few jets thrown up by the pipe or funnel 
in the centre of the basin, and then, after a pause of a 
oreater or less number of minutes, a rumbling noise is 
heard underground, louder reports succeed, and concus- 
sions strong enough to shake the whole mound; in the 
interior of which the water boils with increased violence, 
and overflows the edges of the capacious basin. Other 
reports soon follow, being louder and more rapid than 
the preceding, and not unlike the discharge of a park of 
artillery. ‘Then, with an astounding roar and immense 
velocity, the water rushes through the pipe, and rises 
into the air in irregular jets, which are surrounded and 
almost concealed by accompanying volumes of steam. 
To these first jets loftier and more defined ones succeed, 
and there is generally a central or main jet presenting 
a column of boiling water from nine to twelve feet in 
diameter, and from fifty to seventy feet in height, on an 
average, Sometimes the main jet exceeds a hundred 
feet in height, and other geysers are said to throw 
water, though not in such volume, to a greater elevation. 
As the jets of the great geyser issue from the central 
pipe, the water in the basin near to the pipe is raised 
about a foot and a half, and as the columns descend 
into the orifice whence they were ejected the water 
everywhere overflows, Unlike the eruptions of fire 
from the crater of a volcano, which often last for days 
without any apparent diminution or pause, these boiling 
fountains seldom play longer.than six or seven minutes 
at atime. Then the action of the central pipe ceases ; 
dense steam covers for awhile the basin ; and when that 
moves off, nothing is seen but a sheet of clear, hot water, 
and all is quiet, until, after an interval of some hours, 
faint reports announce the approach of a fresh eruption. 
On Dr. Henderson’s second visit to the great geyser, 
in August, 1815, when he pitched his tent close to it 
for two days, its eruptions occurred pretty regularly 


every six hours, and some of the colunins of water rose | | 
‘the thundering column of steam, and reflected with 


to the height of one hundred and fifty feet. 

Situated at about one hundred and fifty yards to the 
south of the great geyser, and scarcely inferior to it, is 
the new geyser, whose eruption Dr. Henderson thus 


describes :— 


‘ Fyrom an orifice nine feet in diameter, a column of | 


water, accompanied with prodigious volumes of smoke, 
was erupted with inconceivable force, and a tremendous 


roaring noise, to varied heights of from fifty to eighty | 


feet, and threatened to darken the horizon, though 
brightly illumined by the morning sun, * * * * 

When the jets of water subsided, their place was occupied 
by the spray and steam, which, having free room to 
play, rushed with a deafening roar to a height little 
inferior to that of the water. On throwing the largest 


stones we could find into the pipe, they were instantly j 


propelled to an amazing height, and some of them 
that were cast up more perpendicularly than the others 
remained for the space of four or five minutes within the 
influence of the steam. A gentle northern ‘breeze car- 
ried part of the spray at the top of the pillar to one side, 
when it fell like drizzling rain, and was so cold that we 
could stand below it and receive it on our hands and 


* * Teeland, or Journal of a Residence in that Island, during 
the Years 1814 and 1815,’ by Dr, E, Henderson, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


. [DecEMBER 7, 


face without the least inconvenience. While I kept my 
station on the same side with the sun, a most brilliant 
circular bow, of a large size, appeared on the opposite 
side of the fountain ; and, on changing sides, having the 
fountain between me and the sun, I discovered another, 
if possible still more beautiful, but so small as only to 
encircle my head. Their hues entirely resembled thosé 
of the common rainbow.’ 

Still nearer to the great geyser, at the distance of only 
elghty yards from it, there was formerly another foun- 


‘tain, called the roaring geyser, from the continual noise 


it made. Its jets rivalled in height those of the great 
geyser, but in consequence of an earthquake, in 1789, 
its volume of water was greatly diminished, and in the 
course of a few years this fountain entirely ceased. At 
the same time, however, another geyser, which had been 
insignificant before, began to throw up water and steain 
to a great height. 

Earthquakes, by intercepting the subterranean cur- 
rents of waters, or by opening new channels and giving 
other directions to those waters, by disrupting the crust 
of the earth here, or by filling up former crevices there, 
and by other processes not so easily detected, exercise 
an immediate and great influence over these fountains. 
During the dreadful earthquake that shook the island 
to its very centre, in 1784, not only did the ereater gey- 


‘sers shoot up with increased violence, but no fewer than 


thirty-five new boiling fountains made their appearance 
close to them. Many of these thirty-five have since 
wholly subsided. r 

The most remarkable of the geysers still in activity, 
next to those already described, are the strockr, the little 
geyser, and the little strockr. ‘The name of strockr is 
derived from the Icelandic verb “strocka,’’—to agitate, to 
putin violent motion. Dr. Henderson informs us he dis- 
covered what he calls the key to this fountain, by which 
he thought he could make it play. whenever he had a 
mind, and even donble its nsual height. He threw in a 
quantity of the largest stones he could collect—presently 
it began to roar—he advanced his head to look down 
the pipe or tunnel, but had scarcely time to withdraw it, 
when up shot the jets of boiling water carrying the stones 
with them, and attaining a height which he calculated 
at two hundred feet. Jets surpassed jets until the water 
in the subterranean cavern being spent, only columns of 
steam were emitted, and these continued to rise and to 
roar for nearly an hour. ‘The next day he repeated the 
experiment with the like success; and leaving the spot 
to go on his journey, he says, he often looked back on 


amazement at his having given such an impulse toa 


| body which no power on earth could control. 


The little geyser is remarkable for the regularity of 


| its discharges, playing about twelve times in twenty-four 


hours. Its jets, however, seldom exceed twenty feet in 
heieht. 

The little strockr is still more curious, from the rapidity 
as well as regularity of its action, and from the eccen- 
tricity of its projection. Instead of having intervals of 
hours like the generality of the geysers, it plays every 
quarter of an hour, and instead of throwing up its waters 
perpendicularly, it darts them off in numerous diagonal 


eolumns. Dr. Henderson ealls it “a wonderfully 


/ amusing little fountain.” 


Numerous other minor orifices and cavities lie round 
these; some of them boiling and bubbling, and being 
covered with the most beautiful incrustations. 

From the quantity of vapour emitted from these 


| numerous vents, it often happens that the steam unites, 


and forming a vast cloud, ascends, rolls, and spreads 
itself, till it completely covers the confined horizon and 
eclipses the mid-day sun. The effect produced by the 
reports and loud roaring of these fountains, during the 


' stillness of night, is described as being peculiarly im- 


1833,] 


pressive. On the brow of the neighbouring hill, nearly 
two hundred feet above the level of the great geyser, 
there are several holes of boiling clay, some of which 
produce sulphur and efflorescence of alum. On the 
reverse of the same hill, and at its base, are more than 
twenty other hot springs. 

Among the other boiling fountains in different parts 
of the island, travellers have particularly described those 
in a narrow valley near Reykium. ‘There, some of the 
Springs, which do not erupt but regularly contain water 
at the temperature of 200° of Fahrenheit, are used by 
the Icelanders for boiling, for washing their clothes, and 
other doniestic purposes. Beyond these occur extensive 
banks of hot sulphur and hot clay. At the immediate 
edge of the valley are two large geysers frequently in 
eruption, ‘They are situated at the base of a beetling 
mountain, whose rugged crags rise about five hundred 
feet above the springs. It has been calculated that, 
during an eruption, one of these two geysers throws up 
99,064 callons of water every minute. 

Not far from this spot, numerous hot springs exist in 
the bed of a considerable river, and the quantity of boil- 
ing water they emit is so great that it cannot be kept 
under by the cold water of the river, but forcing its way 
upwards, it bubbles and spouts above the surface of the 
streain. | 


THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. 7. 


Tue state of the agriculture of France, and the con- 
dition of its labourers, have not improved so much 
during the last forty years as one might at first have 
expected, from the abolition of feudal dues and of 
tithes, and from the general subdivision of property that 
has taken place. Several causes may be assigned for 
the still depressed state of the farmers in that country. 
Want of enterprise, want of capital, bad methods of 
cultivation which it takes several generations to correct, a 
deficiency of communication in many parts between one 
province or district and another, a heavy land-tax, re- 
strictions on the foreign commerce of the country, and 
the prevalence of the métayer system, of which we have 
spoken in a former article*. ‘The manner in which all 
these circumstances act as checks upon the agricultural 


prosperity of France will be exemplified in the course of" 


the following quotations from intelligent observers who 
have visited that country at various times since the 
revolution. 

We find alréady, in the year 3 of the Republic (1795), 
complaints of the state of agriculture, in a work on the 
‘Political and Economical State of France,’ published at 
Strasburg, in German. ‘The writer observes that “ en- 
lizhtened foreigners are astonished at the depressed con- 
dition in which they find agriculture in France ; that 
every year an immense extent of territory is suffered to 
lie fallow, although good agricuiturists condemn fallows. 
There is not in France any scientific schoo] for the mass 
of the cultivators; many breeds of cattle, many seeds 
and plants, instruments and machinery, and above all 
good methods, all these still remain to be introduced from 
abroad: some departments, it is true, are much better 
cultivated than others, but the improved system which 
is practised in one district is unknown to the rest.” 

We will now see what was the state of French agri- 
culture ten or twelve years later, when the country was 
thoroughly at peace internally, and order and security 
Were maintained under the administration of Napoleon. 
We have an impartial witness in Colonel Pinkney, an 
intelligent American traveller, in the years 1807-8. He 
entered France by the way of Calais, and travelled on 
horseback and at leisure through the country, often resting 
at farmers’ houses, and losing no opportunity of deriving 
information from the country people themselves. In 


* See ‘ Labourers of Europe, No, 6,’ in No, 81 of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ July 6, 1833, 


THE: PENNY MAGAZINE. 


475 


the neighbourhood of Calais he observed that the pea- 
santry lived comfortably ; but he suspected, at the same 
time, that their means were partly supplied by the profits 
of smuggling, which was carried on very extensively on 
that coast. As he advanced into the country, he re- 
marked ‘“ the slovenly management of the French 
farmers as compared with those of England, and even 
with those of America.. In some of the hay-fields which 
I passed, at least one-fifth of the crop was scattered on 
the roads and in the fields. :The excuse was, that the 
cattle would eat it, and that they might as well have it 
one way as another. And yet in these very fields the 
labour was so plentiful and minute, that the greater 
part of the crop was carried from the fields on the 
shoulders of the labourers;—men, women, and Dboys. 
In such of the fields as I saw carts, the most severe 
labour seemed to be allotted to the share of the women. 
They were the pitchers, and performed this labour with 
a very heavy, and, as it appeared to me, a very awkward 
fork. Whilst the women were performing this task, 
two or three fellows, raw-boned, and nearly six feet 
high, were either very leisurely raking, or perhaps lying 
at their full length under the new-made stacks.” 

As Mr. Pinkney approached Clermont he found the 
country improving in its scenery, orchards, vineyards, 
and corn-fields. He inquired the rent and purchase 
of some of the farms that were to be let or sold, and 
found them so cheap, that, “ could he have recon- 
ciled himself to French manners, and promised himself 
any suitable assistance from French labourers, he would 
have seriously thought of making a purchase. The 
main point of such purchases, however, is contained in 
these words :—‘ Under proper cultivation.’ ” 

After staying some time at Paris, where he saw 
Napoleon, Mr. Pinkney set off for the western provinces 
in company with Mr. Younge, secretary to the American 
Ambassador. Uniike the country between Calais and 
Paris, and that between Paris and Switzerland, whick 
are mostly without enclosures except pales and ditches, 
the country to the westward of the capital, on the road 
to Chartres, is thickly enclosed with rough and open 
hedges, but with few gates and no stiles. Mr. Younge, 
who had traversed France in all directions, told Mr. 
Pinkney that, with the exception of the good enclosures, 
nothing could be so miserable as the system of agrieul- 
ture along the whole road from Paris to Mans, nearly 
one hundred miles south-west of Paris. ‘“ The general 
quality of the soil is light and sandy, and exactly suited to 
the English system of alternate corn amd roots; yet on such 
a soul the common course is no other than fallow, wheat, 
and barley, for nine years successively, after which the 
land is pared and burnt, and then suffered to be a fallow 
in weeds for another year, when the same course is re- 
commenced. Under such management it is not surpris- 
ing that the average produce of the province of Britany 
should not exceed twelve bushels of wheat, and eighteen 
of barley. Turnips they have no idea of, and as the 
proportion of cattle is very small, the land is necessarily 
still further impoverished for want of manure. The size 
of the farms is generally about 80 acres English; they 


are usually held from year to year, but there are some 


leases.” 

Under the head of Angers, Mr. Pinkney observes that 
there is scarcely a good house inhabited within the walls. 
The provincial towns in France differ in this respect from 
those in England, in which you generally find a number of 
rood houses, where retired merchants and tradesmen live 
in the ease and style of private gentlemen. ‘There is little 
or nothing of this kind in a French country town. Every 
house is a shop, a warehouse, or a lodging-house. “ In 
England, and even in America, there are few tradesmen 
long resident in a town without having obtained a suffi- 
ciency to retire; whilst the French towns being compa- 
ratively poor, and their trade insignificant, the French 

ar 2 


476 


tradesman can seldom do more than obtain a scanty sub- 
sistence by his business. In all the best French towns 
the tradesmen have more the air of chandlers than of 
ereat dealers. In some of their principal manufacturing 
places there may be indeed a few principal men and 
respectable houses, but neither these men nor their 
houses are of such number and quality as to give any dig- 
nity or beauty to their towns beyond mere places of 
trade. The French accordingly, judging from what they 
see at home, have a very contemptible idea of the word 
merchant ; and if a foreign traveller of this class should 
wish to be admitted into good company, let him pass by 
any other name than that ofa marchand or negociant. 
This class of foreigners are specifically excluded from 
admission at court.” This was in the time of Napoleon. 
We must add that the French word marchand does not 
correspond to the English “ merchant,” but means a 
retailer, a shopkeeper; whilst the word négociant means 
a wholesale dealer, a man who has a counting-house, who 
negotiates bills of exchange, &c. ‘The above remarks of 
Mr. Pinkney hold good in most parts of the continent 
besides France, and especially in Italy and Spain. 

The banks of the Loire from Angers to Tours and Blois, 
and higher up the river to Orléans and Nevers, and thence 
to Moulins, constitute the finest and most fertile part of 
France. The condition of the peasantry is comfortable ; 
they are temperate, good-humoured, and sufficiently 
clad; their wants are few; and their labour, added to 
the fertility of the soil, is sufficient to satisfy them. They 
repine not for luxuries of which they have no notion. 
The women, however, have more than their due share of 
the Jabour,—they reap, bind, and load. They soon lose 
therefore every appearance of youth in the face; they 
look old and wrinkled; and the old peasant women in 
France are absolutely frightful. 

There are no parochial taxes in France for the relief of 
the poor as in England, but distress seldom occurs without. 
being relieved. An inhabitant of the northern countries 
and cold climates can scarcely form an idea what a very 
different kind of sustenance is required in southern ones. 
Chestnuts, grapes, and onions are, to the French 
peasant, what potatoes are to the Irish. ‘‘ The break- 
fast of a French labourer usually consists of bread and 
fruit; his dinner of bread and an onion; his supper of 
bread, milk, and chestnuts. Sometimes a pound of 
meat will be boiled with the onion, and a bowilli is thus 
made, which, with management, will go through the 
week. ‘The climate is such as to require no expense in 
fuel and very little in clothes.”— Pinkney, p. 299. 

There are no game-laws in France, but there is a 
decency and moderation in the peasants which answers 
the same purpose. No one attempts to shoot game 
except on land of which he is the proprietor or tenant. 

The farms in the central provinces of France are very 
small, and the farmers are consequently poor. ‘They have 
neither the spirit nor the means of improvement. They 
are, in fact, but a richer kind of peasantry. There are 
few or no leases in these provinces, and this is one of 
the reasons why agriculture has remained where it now 
is for these four or five last centuries. In large estates, 
one-fourth is generally forest and another fourth waste. 
In England, the forest and waste would be brought into 
cultivation; but in France, the forest is little better than 
a waste, and the waste is turned to as little purpose as 
if it were the wild sea-beach, 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szscrion 18. 
COAL. 


Coal-Fields.— Having presented onr readers with a 
sketch of the natural history of coal, including its com- 
position, geological situation, and probable origin, we 
shall now proceed to describe its geographical position 
in the United Kingdom, We shail begin with England, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DECEMBER 7, 


giving a general view of all the coal-fields ; and we shall 
then enter into a somewhat more detailed description of 
some of the most important of these. 

Previously to the researches of the English geologists, 
within the last fifteen years, very vague notions prevailed 
as to the extent to which this valuable mineral was 
spread over england; and it was a belief by no means 
uncommon among persons unacquainted with such 
subjects, that there was no part of the country in which 
it might not be found. Endless were the trials, and 
countless the sums of money wasted in borings and 
sinkings of shafts, where there was as little chance of 
finding a workable coal as gold or diamonds. But 
since the publication of the geological maps of Mr. 
Greenough and Mr. Smith, every one who chooses to 
inquire may know where our present coal-fields are 
situated, where there is a possibility that others may exist, 
and, what is of no less importance, where the mineral 
structure of the ground is of such a nature as to make it 
certain that searches after coal in such sitnations can only 
end in disappointment and loss. It is hardly necessary to 
add, that it is a vulgar error to suppose that coals gTOW, 
and that they will be replaced in the situations from 
which they have been once extracted. ‘The annexed 
outline map gives a general view of all the coal-fields of 
England: and it will be seen that fully one half of the 
country is destitute of coal; for all that lies east and south 
of the double line, Z Z, from the mouth of the Tees 
in Yorkshire, to Lyme Regis in Dorsetshire, is com- 
posed of the superior secondary sirata; and although 
some of these do sometimes contain thin beds of coal of 
a particular kind, it may be confidently said, that the 
kind of coal which we usually consume will never be 
found in those upper secondary strata; and, unless 
under very favourable circumstances, the inferior kind 
above alluded to can never be worked with profit. It will 
also be seen how comparatively small a space the coal 
measures occnpy. It is necessary to remind our readers, 
that the spaces here marked with dark lines are the 
geological boundaries of the coal formations, which, as 
we have already explained in previous sections, consist 
of many different kinds of stone besides coal ; and that 
it must not be supposed that workable coal is spread 


over the whole space marked by the darker shade. 
Not ouly is that far flom being the case, but there is a 


very large part of all those spaces where not a trace of 
coal is to be seen, there being only sandstones, lime- 
stones, or shales, the other members of the coal forma- 
tions. — 

Besides showing the positions of the different coal 
deposits, the map exhibits the boundaries of the country 
which each supplies with fuel. We are indebted for 
this information to the evidence given by Frederick 
Page, “Iisq., before the Committee of the House of 
Commons on the Coal Trade in 1830. Mr. Page 
Stated, that in the course of several years’ travelling 
over England, he had_ collected so much information as 
to the distribution of coals by the different inland nayi- 
gations, as to be able to construct a map on which the 
boundaries were laid down: he gave a copy of that 
map to the Committee, who published it alone with 
their Report. In the annexed map, it is to be under- 
stood that all the space included within the line which 
surrounds a coal deposit, is supplied from that source: 
the larger districts are further distinguished by a small 
letter corresponding with the capital letter which marks 
the coal-tield. These boundaries are of course not 
rigorously correct, but they are sufficiently so to give a 
tolerably accnrate general view how far the market of 
each coal-field extends, independent of foreign export, and 
the supplies to Scotland from the Northumberland dis- 
trict, and to Ireland from the western coal-fields, The 
extent which the consumption of a coal-field reaches, 
depends upon a variety of circumstances, such as the 


1833.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. any 


facility of transport by sea or by canals, the quality of |: ing, besides, the whole of the eastern and southern 
the coal, and its price at the pit’s mouth ; this last must coasts from Berwick to Plymouth, and as far 
be in a great degree regulated by the expense of bring- inland as the county of Bedford. Formerly the 
ing it to the surface, which is very variable, according inland markets extended further; but the ex- 
to situations. | tension of canals has brought other and cheaper 

There are in England and Wales twelve great coal- coals into competition. There is also a very 
fields, of which those marked I. If. LV. VI. XII. are the large foreign export, and a considerable quantity 
most important. These are, is sent to Scotland. 

I. The Northumberland and Durham Fields, the If. The Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, and Derbyshire 

almost exclusive feeders of London, and supply- Tields. 


A Map snowina THE GeoLoaicaL Position AND CommeErcIAL DistRIBUTION or THE CoAL ov ENGLAND AND WaLes. 














; SCOTLAND. 


aot 






oon he ALN 







O CEA N., 





Piero ik | |6USUW A. 





eee vee a. a 
- 
a tinted 





a 





SN 
EeeN € L I seu Cue 


1 Newcastle. 7 Whitehaven, 13 Nottingham. 18 Oxford, 23 Colchester. £8 Maidstone, 33 Plymonth. 

2 North Shields. 8 Lancaster, 14 Leicester. ~ 19 Gloucester. 24 Bedford, 29 Hastings. 34 Fa! mouth. 

3 Sonth Shields, 9 Liverpool. 15 Northampton. 20 Windsor 25 Cambridge, 30 Brighton. 35 Caernarvon, 
4 Sunderland. 10 Manchester. 16 Shrewsbury. 21 Bristol. 26 Dover. 3h Portsmouth, 36 Cardigan. 

5 Durham. lL Scarborouga, 17 Birmingham. 22 Bath. 27 Canterbury. 32 Exeter, 37 Caermarthen, 
6 Cockermouth. 12 Derby. 


The dark shade of tint shows the extent of the Coal Fields. 


The lighter shade represents the districts of the country supplied by them. _ 
The lines which express the tints are in both cases parallel to each other, and in each of the twelve districts have a different 


direction, except the Newcastle and Durham, in which, for the sake of clearness, the coal fields (I.) have been left black, and the places 
supplied by them white. Each district is surrounded by a strong black outline. 


478 


’ JIT. The Whitehaven Fields. 
IV. The South Lancashire Fields. 
This, with the Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire 

Fields, are the foundation of our great na- 

tional superiority in the woollen and cotton 

manufactures, the principal seats of which are 
, upon them. 

V. The North Staffordshire, or Pottery Fields. 

VI. The South Staffordshire, or Dudley and War- 
wickshire Fields,—not of great superficial extent, 
but immensely productive, and containing the 
thickest seam of coal in the island. It is also one 
creat seat of our iron manufactures. 

VII. The Shropshire Fields, including Coal Brook 
Dale, and the Plain of Shrewsbury. 

VIII. Forest of Dean Field. 

IX. South Gloucestershire, or Bristol Fields. 

X. Somersetshire Field. 

XI. North Wales, or Flintshire Fields. 

XII. The South Wales Fields, comparatively little 
worked as yet, but the most extensive of all, and 
upon which our posterity must depend, when the 
other fields are exhausted. 

Thus it will be seen that all the coal-fields, and all 
the great seats of our manufactures, lie to the north and 
west of the hne Z Z, which is the boundary of the 
middle and superior strata of the secondary series; for, 
with the exception of some detached points in Somerset- 
shire and Glamorganshire on the Bristol Channel, 
neither the lias limestone, nor any of the formations 
superior to it (I. in the diagram in No. 51.—19th Ja- 
niiary,) are found westward of that line. The New Red 
Sandstone, K, which is immediately under the lias, and 
covers so vast a surface in the midland and northern 
counties, lies all to the north and west of the line ; many 
of the coal-fields are surrounded by it, and it is possible 
that others may be discovered within its domain, either 
where it is partially denuded, or where it is so thin that 
it may be sunk through without great expense. All 
searches for coal in the Red Sandstone itself would, 
according to every probability, end in disappointment. 

Having now given a general view of the coal-fields 
of England, we shall, in onr next section, lay before 
our readers a more detailed sketch of the great deposit 
of Northumberland and Durham. 


DIFFERENCE BETWEEN TRADING, GAMBLING, 
AND ROBBING. 
ALL exchanges must be of things either of the same 
kind, or of different kinds. Now as all persons who 
make an exchange expect to profit by it, to exchange an 
ingot of gold against an ingot of gold, or a pound of 
bread against a pound of bread, would be a mere waste 
of trouble; although neither party would lose, yet nei- 
ther would gain anything by the transaction. In order, 
therefore, to induce people to exchange things of the 
same kind, it is necessary that there should be some 
means of enabling both parties to expect or hope for a 
profit. Now, in gambling, which consists in exchanging 
money for money, this is effected by the introduction of 
the element of chance. When two people agree to stake 
a shilling a-piece on the cast of a die, as one must win, 
both may hope to win, which would not be the case 
if they merely changed shillings. Consequently if we 
were to exclude from gambling the element of chance, 
which can only be done by multiplying the stakes, it 
would be reduced to a mere waste of labour, attended 
with neither pecuniary loss nor @ain. A man who 
passed twelve hours a day for fifty years in tossing up 
for sovereigns would probably be able to rise many hun- 
cred times during that period neither a gainer nor a 
loser. And for this reason, in all lotteries and gaming 
establishments there is a small advantage allowed to the 
undertaker of the table, which, in the long run, reduces 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DECEMBER 15 


the gain to a certainty; whereas, if there was no stich 
advantage, and if there was uo fraud practised on the 
players, a lottery or a gambling bank could never yield 
any profit, as its transactions would consist in merely 
exchanging money for money. When, however, gain- 
bling is not practised on a sufficiently large scale to reduce 
its operations to a certainty, and consequently to exclude 
the possibility either of loss or vain, (which must be the 
case with all unprofessional gamblers,) it is not merely’a 
waste of time, but is always a losing speculation ; be- 
cause, although the chance of gain is equal to the chance 
of loss, yet the advantage of gain does not counter- 
balance the disadvantage of loss. A man whose entire 
fortune is £1000 would not be so much benefited by 
doubling it, as he would be injured by losing it. He would 
suffer more pain at being penniless than he would feel 
pleasure at being the owner of £2000: for this reason, 
if ten people sit down to play for a sum of importance 
to the parties, it is strictly true, though it may sound like 
a paradox, that as every man in succession takes the 
dice-box in his hand, the chances are against him: 
he stakes a chance of loss, of which the pain may, for the 
sake of illustration, be valued in numbers at one hundred 
against a chance of gain, the pleasure of which may, 
numerically reckoned, be not greater than twenty or 
thirty. It is on this principle that the expediency of the 
right of property is founded, the advantage of the thief 
being far less than the disadvantage of the leeal owner. 
It appears, therefore, that in order to induce people to 
exchange things of the same kind, it is necessary that 
each party should have a prospect of gain; and that al- 
though such a prospect exists in gambling, which is an 
exchange of this nature, and there is a chance of gain to 
each party, yet the probability is that each will be in= 
jured by the transaction. Consequently gambling, con- 
sidered as a pecuniary transaction, is injurious in two 
ways, —for not only is the loss of one a necessary condi- 
tion for the gain of the other, but the losing party suffers 
more pain than the gaining party feels pleasure; one 
party always loses, and the other does not gain to the 
full amount of his loss. In exchanges of thmes of dif- 
ferent kinds, all this (as we remarked in a former Num- 
ber*) is reversed. These are the exchanges which 
belong to commerce, and in these there is no loss on 
either side, but both parties are necessarily benefited by 
the transaction, if there is neither force nor fraud nor 
mistake. A man may, by the dread of the consequences 
of a refusal, be induced to give more in exchange for 
services or goods than he would do if he was free froin 
fear, as sometimes happens with travellers in barbarous 
countries ; but this is a mere case of extortion, and such 
exactions might as well, and indeed often do, assume the 
appearance of gifts. Again, a man may be cheated in 
an exchange, and may be deceived by the false represen- 
tations of the vendor into a belief that what he is pur- 
chasing 1s a valuable commodity, whereas it is only 
made, like the razor in the story—to sell. In such cases 
as this, however, the buyer is only a loser by the exchange, 
because the article turns out to be something dif- 
ferent from what he expected. A purchaser may likewise 
be mistaken as to his own wants, or the state of the 
market which he supplies: for instance, he may send for 
a physician, believing that he is sick, though, in fact, he 
is in perfect health; or he may buy a pair of spectacles, 
and the next day completely regain or completely lose 
his eyesight; he may buy gunpowder and muskets in 
expectation of a war, and no war may break out; or 
corn In expectation of a bad harvest, and an abundant 
one may follow; or send a cargo of skates to a couutry 
Where water never freezes. ‘here are certainly many 
cases In which a man, acting on false or imperfect in- 
formation, or from a wrong judement, finds to his cost 
that he has made a losing bargain: but property may 


* See Penny Magazine, No. 36, vol. i, p. 293.’ 


1833.] 


equally be depreciated which has not been the subject 
of barter; nor does a speculator lose because he has 
made a certain exchange, but because he possesses 
certain commodities. The farmer loses with the corn- 
merchant by a fall in the prices of grain, and an inn- 
keeper on a road on which the travelling is suddenly 
stopped by a war is eqnally injured whether he has 
acqiured his property by inheritance or by purchase. 

With the exception, therefore, of the three cases just 
mentioned, viz., extortion, fraud, and mistake, all ex- 
changes of things not of the same kind are necessarily 
advantageous to both parties. The profit of the one 
party is quite independent of the profit of the other; 
nor do their gains stand to each other in any fixed ratio. 
They may both be large or both be small, or one large 
and the other small. Thus Herodotus mentions some 
Greek merchants who made an immense profit by trad- 
ing with the barbarous inhabitants of Iberia, or Spain, 
and giving them goods in exchange for silver. How- 
ever profitable this adventure may have been to the 
Greeks, probably the Iberians were equally well satisfied 
with their bargain, as they doubtless prized far more 
hiehly than their precious metal the manufactured articles 
which they got in exchange for it. The gain of one 
party affords no means of ascertaining the gain of the 
other: the profits of an exchange are not like the buckets 
of a well, in which one rises in precisely the same mea- 
sure as the other falls, but they depend on the diflerence 
between the value of the goods sold and the goods 
bought, in the market from which the former are taken, 
and to which the latter are carried. 

If this plain truth had been sufficiently understood, 
all the national jealousies with regard to trade, which 
have been the cause of so many wars, so many commer- 
cial restrictions, and so much suffering to mankind, 
might have been avoided. All these jealousies have 
been founded on the notion that in trade one man’s 
gain is another’s loss, and consequently that one nation’s 
gain is another’s loss. It was with this false impression, 
strengthened indeed by national hatred and the desire 
of weakening his enemies, that Bonaparte, in the preface 
to his Berlin Decree, represents England as raising her 


commerce and industry on the ruins of the industry of 


the Continent. So far is it from being true that the 
industry of one country is not compatible with the in- 
dustry of another, that foreign productions are absolutely 
indispensable to the existence of commerce. If England 
had in truth succeeded in destroying the industry of the 
Continent, she would, at the same time, without the 
assistance of the Berlin Decree, have destroyed her com- 
merce with the Continent; for nobody wil! sell goods to 
those who have nothing to give in exchange for them. 
It was under the influence of the same false opinions 
that Bonaparte (according to his own account) refused, 
after the peace of Amiens, to renew the commercial 
treaty between France and England, except on terms 
of reciprocity, viz., that if France received so many mil- 
lions of English imports, England should be obliged to 
take in return the same quantity of French productions. 
(Sir Walter Scott’s ‘ Life of Napoleon,’ ch. 99.) Sup- 
posing that so absurd a treaty had been concluded be- 
tween England and France, it would probably have 
been easy to evade its stipulations by false valuations, 
and other contrivances which nullify impolitic and oppres- 
sive laws, but the reciprocity which Bonaparte wished 
to enforce by treaty necessarily exists without a treaty. 
It would have been impossible for England to have sold 
to France goods to the value of a million, without receiv- 
ing in payment from France, either directly or circuit- 
ously, other goods to the value of a million. 

All regulations of this kind intended to ensure an 
equality or a community of advantage im commercial 
dealings, have been founded on the belief that loss or 
gain imply one another, ‘This opinion, manifestly 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. AG9 


false as it now appears to us, was no lone time ago 
received as an undeniable axiom amono persons ea 
had not devoted a particular attention fo tlie subject of 
trade. ‘* As to mere wealth, that is to say money, (said 
Dr. Johnson, speaking of Smith’s ‘ Wealth of Nations,’) 
it is clear that one nation or one individual eannot In- 
crease its store but by making another poorer.” (Bos- 
well’s * Life of Johnson,’ vol. iii., p. 148.) Misled bya 
false analogy, they conceived, that because in gambling, 
thieving, and war, one person can only gain at another's 
expense, therefore this is also the case in trade. 

In war, indeed, it is emphatically true that one 
man’s gain is another’s loss; nor does conquest sim- 
ply take the property from the owner, but what it: 
does not waste, it places in the spoiler’s hands with 
a value immensely depreciated. ‘* At the first view it 
should seem that the wealth of Constantinople (says Gib- 
bon, speaking of the first capture of that great city) was 
only transferred from one nation to another, and that 
the loss and sorrow of the Greeks are exactly balanced 
by the joy and advantage of the Latins. But in the 
miserable account of war, the gain is: never equivalent 
to the loss, the pleasure to the pain *.”’ Nor does it 
often happen that the spoils of the victor are sufficient 
to repay the cost of victory; and the lot of mankind 
would have been far happier if all governments had felt 
the truth of the remark which Sir Walter Scott, in one 
of his novels, puts in the mouth of the regent Murray, 
that “war is the only game from which both parties 
rise losers.” 

But in trade, so far from one party always losing, and 
the other party never waining to the extent of the other’s 
loss, both parties always gain, and the profit of the one 
does not diminish the profit of the other. While in all 
plunder and rapine, whether between nations or indivi- 
duals, the benefit is necessarily partial, and can only be 
purchased by a disproportionate expenditure of suffering 
and misery: the benefits of commerce are general, require 
- Sea sacrifice, and are free from any alloy 
of evil, 


SAINT PETER’S.—No. 3.—(Concluded.) 


Tue Basilica, or cathedral of St. Peter’s, does not stand 
within the limits of the ancient city of Rome, nor is it 
indeed on the same side of the Tiber as the most 
renowned parts of that city. It rises on the side of the 
Vatican Hill, which may be considered as an extension 
of the Janiculum, the only one of the seven hills on the 
right or north bank of the river, the other six being all 
on the left bank. 

“Tn the most high and palmy state of Rome,” it was 
on the Vatican that the triumphs of conquerors were 
prepared, and the processions marshalled; at a later 
period, under the empire, the hill was adorned with 
temples, palaces, and places of public amusement; and 
here stood the cirens of Calieula or of Nero, in which 
many of the early Christians are said to have been killed 
in those barbarous combats and games which disgrace 
the Roman name. ‘This circus was also said to be the 
scene of the crucifixion of the apostle Peter. It was 
Constantine the Great who first erected a Christian 
church on the blood-defiled spot, choosing for its site 
part of the ground that had been occupied by the circus, 
and the spaces where the temples of Mars and Apollo 
had stood. As architecture was then in a very de- 
eraded state, it may be concluded that the edifice of 
Constantine could boast no great beauty; its maguitude, 
however, was considerable, being three hundred feet 
long, and more than one hundred and fifty feet wide, 
After standing for nearly twelve centuries, it threatened 
ruin, and several popes endeavoured to avert this by 


* ¢ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,’ vol, vil., p. 497, 


480 


repairs and additions; but at length Julius II., a pontiff 
of great energy, determined, in 1503, to erect an entirely 
new temple, which should ‘stand over and include the 
site of the most important part of the old one. 

Bramante Lazzari was the architect he preferred, and 
whose plan was, to build the church in the form of a 
Greek cross. Shortly after Bramante’s death the work 
fell to the great Michael Angelo Buonarotti, who gave 
the edifice the peculiarly sublime character it possesses, 
still following up the plan of Bramante inasmuch as 
related to the form of the Greek cross. ‘ There are 


eichteen whole years of Michael Angrelo’s life in the | 


church of St. Peter's,” says Dupaty; but the great 
artist could not live to complete so vast a work, and thie 
mantle of his genius fell on none of his successors. 
The original plan, moreover, was departed from,—the 
lengthy, unequal Latin cross was substituted for the 
Greek, because it was considered essential that the new 
edifice should include the whole of the site of the ancient 
church of Constantine! 'To this last circumstance are 
mainly attributable the defects in the building. 
The first stone of the church was laid by Pope Julius 
II., in 1506, and the front was completed in 1622, 
during the pontificate of Paul V., the seventeenth suc- 
cessor of Julius. Although constantly advancing, with 
all the means that the wealth and extensive influence of 
the Roman hierarchy could then command, it took the 
reion of eighteen popes and the period of one hundred 
and fifteen years to:see the temple alone finished.“ The 
splendid additions and accessaries occupied one hundred 
and fifty years more. . Up to the year 1622 the buildings 
cost the Roman see forty millions of crowns (more than 
eight millions- sterling); and between that date and 
1784‘ nearly ten millions of crowns more were expended. 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 








The Offics of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. } ., 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


(DecemBer 7, 1833, 


At the present time it costs the papal treasury thirty 
thousand crowns annually to keep the immense edifice in 
repair. 

As scarcely two books of travels agree in their ac- 
counts of the dimensions of St. Peter's, we are happy to 
be able to give the correct measurements, as recently 
made by an English architect. : 

The clear znstde length of the church is six hundred 
and fifteen feet, and the breadth, in the transepts, four 
hundred and forty-eight feet. ‘The extreme height, from 
the level of the piazza before the temple to the apex of 
the cross, is about four lundred and sixty-four feet, or 
nearly one-fourth as high again as our St. Paul’s. The 
distance from the extreme line of the ellipsis of the 
colonnades to the portals of the church is nine hundred 
feet, which, added to the owéside’ length of the church, 
including its thick walls and vestibules, gives the pro- 
digious distance of nearly one-third of a mile, covered by 
St. Peter’s and its accessaries. | | 

.The masonry of the’ church, its cupola, (which is 
externally covered with lead,) and its adjuncts, is of 
Travertine stone. Whole quarries must have been 
exhausted in the superstructure, or parts that meet the 
eye, yet a ‘still vaster quantity of stone remains unseen, 
the depth ofthe foundations and the enormous thickness 
of the substructions being such that there is actually more 
of the material below than above the surface of the ground. 

It must be remarked, that the eeneral view which we 
now present to our readers has been composed from an 

‘imaginary point considerably above the tops of the © 
houses opposite to.St. Peter’s ; it is, in short, a bird’s- ’ 
_eye view, intended to show, more clear'y than any really. 
‘practical view could, the arrangement: of the varions 
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[DrecEemBer 14, 1833. 





2.—(Concluded. ) 


ile -.—ri<“—O—*™*™OOOCUCOrOCOCOCOCSCS 


_ 


a Ws r fs i i iit if 


[Temple of the Sun at Palmyra] i 


WE Worn the fact of the existence in ancient Palmyra 


of a Temple of the Sun, from the letter of the, Emperor. 
and from that also we may: 


Aurelian already noticed ; 
infer that this was the chief of all the public buildings of 
the city. The object of the letter.is.to direct the repa- 
ration, at @reat cost, of the injuries which this temple had 
Rictaingdes No doubt can be entertained that the -im- 
mense pile situated at the eastern extremity of the pre- 
sent ruins is what remains of the magnificent structure In 
question. Its superiority in extent and splendour point 
it out as having been by far the most remarkable building 
even ina place crowded as this was with monuments of 
the most superb architecture. Some of its still remaining 
decorations, among which a representation of the sun is 
conspicuous, confirm its title to the name that.has been 
given to’ it. Perhaps its position, facing the’ east, 
may be admitted as an additional proof in favour of the 
common supposition. The. circumstance of its stauding 
near the wall of the city, too, may possibly account for the 
severe degree in which it suffered during the siege of Pal- 
myra by Aurelian, as noticed in the letter of that emperor. 
Wood’s. description of this Temple, though ‘amply 
illustrated by drawings, is extremely meagre. “The most 
accurate account of it which we have met with is that 
given in the article Crvis ArcHITECTURE in the ‘ EKdin- 
burgh Encyclopedia ;’ but it is too technical for any 
except professional readers. ‘The following sketch of 
the general appearance and most striking features of the 
ruin is taken from Mr. Halifax’s letter, published in the 
* Philosophical Transactions,’ to which we referred in 
Vou. IT. 


our last account. To shorten the extract, we have 
omitted some things of minor interest. 

“ The whole inclosed space is a square of: 290 haace 
each side, encompassed with a high and stately wall, 
built of large square stones, and adorned with pilasters 
within and without, to the number (as near,as:we could 
compute by what is standing of the wall, whichis much 
the greater part) of sixty-two on a side.,.: And had ‘not 
the. barbarity of the Turks, enemies to everything that is 
splendid and noble, out. of a vain superstition. purposely 
beat down those Deautiful cornishes’ both . here and in 
other places, we had seen the most curious and exquisite 
carvings in stone which perhaps the world could ever 
boast ‘of; as here and there a small remainder, which 
has escaped their fury, does abundantly evidence. The 
westside wherein is the entrance is most of it broken 
down, and near the middle of the square another higher 
wall erected out of the ruins, which shows to have been 
a castle, strong but rude; the old stones and many 
pillars, broken or sawn asunder, being rolled into tlie 
fabric,’ and ill cemented. * * * Before the whole 
length of this new front, except a narrow passage which 
is left for an entrance, Is cut a deep ditch, the ascent 
whereof on the inner side is faced with stone to the very 
foot of the wall, which must have rendered it very diffi- 
cult to have assaulted it. The passage to and the door 
itself is very narrow, but wider than to receive a loaded 
camel, or that two footmen may well walk abreast. * * * 
But all this ts but a new building upon an old, and by 
this outward wall is quite shrouded that magnificent 

7 3 Q 


482 


entrance, which belonged to- the first fabric; of the 
stateliness whereof we were enabled to judge by the two 
stones which supported the sides of the great gate, each 
of which is thirty-five feet in length; and artificially 
carved with vines and clusters of grapes, exceeding bold 
and to the life. They are both standing and in their 


places, and the distance between them, which gives us. 


the wideness of the gate, fifteen feet. But all this is 
now walled up to the narrow door before mentioned. 

* * As soon as you are entered within the court, 
you see the remainders of two rows of very noble marble 
pillars thirty-seven feet hi¢h, with their capitals of most 
exquisite carved work; as also must have been the 
cornishes between them, before by rude and supersti- 
tious hauds they were broken down. Of these there 
are now no more than fifty-eight remaining entire ; 
but there must have been a great many more, for they 
appear to have gone quite round the whole court, and 
to have supported a more spacious double piazza or 
cloister. Of this piazza the walks on the west side, 
which is opposed to the front of the temple, seem to 
have exceeded the other in beauty and spaciousness ; 
and at each end thereof are two niches for statues at 
their full length, with their pedestals, borders, sup- 
porters, and canopies, carved with the greatest artifice 
and curiosity. ‘The space within this once-beantiful 
enclosure, which is now filled with nothing but the dirty 
huts of the inhabitants, I conceive to have been an open 
court, in the midst whereof stands the temple, encom- 
passed with another row of pillars of a different order, 
and much higher than the former, being above fifty feet 
high. Of these remain now but sixteen; but there 
must have been about double that number. * * ‘The 
whole space contained within these pillars we found to 


be fifty-nie yards in length, and in breadth near. 
twenty-eight ; in the midst of which space is the temple, | 
extending in length more than thirty-three yards, and, » 


in breadth, thirteen or fourteen. It points north and 


south, having a most magnificent entrance on the west, 


exactly in the middle of the building, which, by the 
small remains yet to be seen, seems to have been one of 
the most glorious structures in the world. J never saw 
vines and clusters -of grapes cut in stone so bold, so 
lively, and so natural, in any place. * * Of this 
temple there is nothing at present but the outward walls 
standing, in which it is observable that, as the windows 
were not large, so they were made narrower towards the 
top than they were below; but all adorned with ex- 
cellent carvings. Within the walls the Turks, or more 
probably the Mamalukes, have built a roof, which is 
supported by small pillars and arches; but a great deal 
lower, as well as in all other respects disproportionate 
and inferior to what the ancient covering must have 
been. And they have converted the place into a 
mosque, having added to the south end thereof new 
ornaments, after their manner, with Arabie inscriptions 
and sentences out of the Alcoran, wrote in flourishes 
and wreaths, not without art. -But at the north end of 
the building, which is shut out of the mosque, are relics 
of much greater artifice and beauty.” 

Mr. Halifax’s measurements are not very accurate, 
and we therefore refer the reader who is desirous of 
minuter details, to those given by tlre writer in the 
* Edinburgh Encyclopedia.’ 

The wood-cut we have given at the head of this notice 
is taken from one of Mr. Wood's plates, which he de- 
scribes as a ‘ View of ‘the ‘Temple from the north-west 
corner of the court.” The lofty columns in the foreground 
and on the left of the picture are a portion ofthe portico 
or colonnade, which runs yound the interior of the court. 
Another portion 6f it is seen at the opposite extremity of 
the picture. The central pilé is the femple itself, sur- 
rqunided by the remains of its peristyle. Among: the 


broken columns and’ fragments of cornices which crowd | 
the foreground may be observed same.of. the flat-roafed | 


ae ‘ws 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[December 14; 


huts of the Bedouins, who have taken up their residence 
in the court. 

’ The entire number of distinct buildings, the ruins of 
which may still be traced in Palmyra, is between forty 
and fifty. But besides these there are multitudes of 
fragments scattered about everywhere, many of which. 
doubtless have belonged to edifices that cannot now be 
distinguished. Next to the temple the most remarkable 
structure is the long portico mentioned in our former 
notice, which commences about 1200 feet to the north- 
west of the temple, and extends for nearly 4000 feet 
farther in the same direction. 

All the buildiugs of Palmyra appear to be nearly of 
oneage. Of the inscriptions which have been collected 
the most ancient is that on a lofty monumental tower, 
which is stated to have been erected by a person of the 
name of Tamblichus. It consists of five stories, and 
when Mr. Wood saw it both the stairs and floors were 
nearly entire. ‘The inscription is dated in the third 
year of the Christian era. The latest inscription which 
has been found, with the exception of the one in 
Latin, which belongs to the reign of Dioclesian, is older 
than the destruction of the city by Aurelian in the third 
century. All the buildings, the ruins of which can now 
be traced, therefore, were probably built within the first 
three hundred years after the birth of Christ. The 
character of the architecture would lead us to the same 
conclusion. It is nearly uniform in all the buildings, 
every one of which is of the Corinthian order. Wood 
discovered only four Tonic columns in the Temple of the 
Sun, and two more in one of the Mausoleums. 

The period thus indicated was, in all probability, that 
of the greatest wealth and commercial prosperity of 
Palmyra. The subject of the commerce of this city has 
lately been investigated with great learning and in- 
genuity by Professor Heeren of Gottingen; in a paper 
read before the Royal Society there. An account of 
this interesting disquisition may be found in the third 
number of the ‘ Journal of Education, pp..1384—143, 
Professor Heeren has chiefly deduced his conclusions 
from the inscriptions which have been copied from the 
ruins, and which may be found in the most correct form 
in Wood's book. Since that work was published, tae 
Palmyrenian alphabet, in which some of the inscriptions 
are written, has been decyphered by Barthelemy ; and 
all the inscriptions have been translated aud explained’ 
by Eichhorn. Heeren supposes that the only native 
products of Palmyra.must have been her dates and salt. 
A few miles south from the ruins there still exists a salt- 
valley. From the other parts of Arabia, however, and from: 
India, the Palmyrene merchants appear to have imported: 
for re-exportation to JZurope, incense, myrrh, spices, 
pearls, precious stones, silk, and other manufactures.- 
Camels were in all probability the carriers of these goods: 
both from the east and to the west. 

We subjoin the Oxford Prize Poem, on Palimyra,. 
written by Ambrose Barber, Esq., of Wadham College 

PALMYRA. 


O’er the hushed plain where sullen horror broods, 
And darkest frowu the Syrian solitudes, 

Where morn’s soft steps no balmy fragrance leave, . 
Aud parched and dewless is the couch of eve, 

Thy form, pale city of the waste, appears 

Like some faint vision of departed years, 

In mazy. cluster still, a giant train, © 

Thy sculptured fabrics whiten on the: plain ; 

Still stretch thy columned vistas far away 

The shadowed dimness of their long array. 

But where the stirring crowd, the voice of strife, 
The glow of action, and the thrill of hfe ? 

Hear! the loud crash of yon huge fragments’ fall, 
The pealing answer of each desert hall, . 
The uight-bird shrieking from her secret cell, 
And hollow winds the tale of ruin tell. 

See fondly lingering Mithra’s parting rays 
Gild the proud towers once vocal with his praise; 
But the cold altars clasping weeds eutwine, 

Aud Moslems worship at the godless shrine, 


1833.J 


Yet here slow-pausing Memory loves to pour 
- _ Her magic influence o’er this pensive hour ; 
And oft as yon recesses deep prolong 
The echoed sweetness of the Arab song,. 
Recalls that scene when Wisdonv’s sceptred child # 
Yirst broke the stillness of the lonely wild. 
‘From air, from ocean, from earth's utmost clime, 
The summoned genii heard the muttered rhyme ; 
The tasking spell their airy hands obeyed, 
And Tadmor glittered in the palmy shade. 
Lo! to her feet the tide of ages brings 
- The wealth of nations, and the pomp of kings ; 
--And far her warrior queen from Parthia's plain 
To the dark A®thiop spreads her ample reign : 
Vain boast ! e’en she who Imme’s field alony 
Waked fiercer frenzy in the patriot throng, 
And sternly beauteous, like the meteor's light, 
Shot through the tempest of Emesa’s fight— 

\. While trembling captives round the victor wait, 
Hang on his eye, and catch the word of fate— 
Zenobia’s self must quail beneath his nod, 

A kneeling suppliant to the mimic god. 
But one there stood amid that abject throng, 

» In truth‘triumphaut and in virtue strong ; 
Beamed on his brow the soul which, undismayed, 
smiled at the rod, and scorned the uplifted blade, 
O’er thee, Palmyra, darkest seemed to lower 
The boding terrors of that fatal honr ; 

Far from thy glade indignant Freedom fled, 
--_-And Hope, too, withsred as Longinus bled, 


CHANGES OF LANGUAGE. 


In the 34th number of the ‘Penny Magazine,’ there is 
an article exhibiting the resemblance between the 
Ienglish and Flemish languages, From the following 
extract it will appear that Caxton, about 350 years since, 
was struck by the resemblance between our ancient 
English and the Dutch. The passage is otherwise 
interesting from the sort of proof which it affords of 
‘the fleeting fashions of our English tongue.” It is 
taken from Caxton’s preface to his translation of the 
French version of the Aineid, and bears the date of 1490, 
We have modernized the orthography. 

_ Caxton states that, having no work in hand; he hap- 
pened to meet with this book, which had lately ap- 
peared in French, and was so much deli¢hted with the 
excellence of its style, that it seemed to him a work very 
requisite for noble men to see, as well for the eloquence 
as the histories.” Ie then proceeds— 

~ And when I had advised me in this said book, T 
deliberated, and concluded to translate it into Enelish ; 
and forthwith took a pen and ink aud wrote a leaf or 
two, which I oversaw again to correct it. And when I 
saw the fair and strange terms therein, I doubted that it 
should not please some gentlemen which late blamed me, 
saying that in my translations I had over curious terms, 
which could not be nnderstood of common people, and 
desired me to use old and homely terms in my transla- 
tions. And fain would [ satisfy every man, and so to 
do took an old book and read therein, and certainly the 
English was so rude and broad that I could not well 
understand it. And also my Lord Abbot of West- 
minster did shew to me late certain evidences, written in 
old English, for to reduce it into our English now used. 
And, certainly, it was written in such wise that it was 
more like to Dutch than English. I could not reduce, 
nor bring it to be understood. And, certainly, our lan- 
guage now used varieth far from that which.was used 
and spoken when I was born, For we Englishmen are 
born under the dominion of the moon, which is never 
stedfast, but ever wavering, waxing one season, and 
Waneth and decreaseth another season. _ And_ that 
common Emnelish which is spoken in one shire varieth 
from another. Insomnch that in my days (it) happened 
that certain merchants were in a ship in (the) Thames 
for to have sailed over the sea into Zeeland, and for 
lack of wind they tarried at Foreland, and went to land 


* King Solomon, . 


| for to refresh them. 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 483 


And one of them named Sheffelde, 
a mercer, canre to a house and asked for meat, but espe- 
cially he asked after eggs. And the good wife answered, 
that she could speak no French. And the merchant 
was angry, for he also could speak no French, and 
would have had eges, and she understood him not. 
And then, at. last, another said that he would have 
eyren*; then the good wife said that she understood 
him well. Lo! what should a man in these days now 
write, eves or eyren? Certainly it is hard to please 
every man because of diversity and change of languave. 
For in these days every man that is in any reputation 
In his country will utter his communication and matters 
mi such manners amd terms 'that few men shall under- 
stand them. And some honest and great clerks have 
been with me, and desired me to write the most curious 
terms that I could find. And thus, between plain, rude, 
and cnrious, I stand abashed ; but in my judgment the 
common terms that are daily used are lighter (easier) to 
be understood than the old and ancient English. And, 
forasmuch as this book is not for a rude and uplandish 
man to labour therein, nor read it, but only for a clerk 
or noble gentleman, that feeleth and understandeth in 
feats of arms, in love and in noble chivalry: therefore, 
in mean between both, I have reduced and translated 
this same book into our English, not over rude nor 
curious, but im such terms as shall be understood, by 
God's grace, according to my copy.’—<Ames’ Typo: 
graphical Antiquities, Vol. 1., pp. 68, 69. 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrtion 19. 
COAL, 


Tue Newcastle Coal Field is by far the most important 
of all those at present worked in England, either as 
recards the extent of the works, the productiveness of 
the mines, the quality of the fuel, or the markets which 
it supplies. The area covered by this coal-field will be 
seen by the following map:—. . . 


Q 
rs 
o 
ea 
| 
es 


‘NV ©0003 





A, The coal-field, tinted with horizontal fines. | 
B. B. Mill-stone grit, tinted with lines sloping to the right. 
C. C. Magnesian liinestone, tinted with lines sloping to the left. 


]. Alnwick, 6. North Shields. 11. Barnard Castle. 
2. Morpeth. *7, South Shields. 12. Appleby. 

3. Stannington. 8. Sunderland. 13. Darlington, 

4, Newcastle, — 9, Durham. 14, Stockton. 

5. Hexham, 10. Bishop Auckland, 15. Hartlepool. 


The length of the coal-field, from the Tees to the 
Coquet, is almost fifty-five miles; its greatest breadth, 
between the mouth of the Tyne and the Western Pits, 
about twenty-two miles, It is bounded on the east, 
from a short distance south of Shields very nearly to its 
southern termination, by strata of magnesian limestone, 


.* The plural of the Saxon eye, egy. 
8 Q2 


464 


under which the’ coal-measures have been found to be 
prolonged in many places: along the northern half of its 
eastern limit, the coal measures are exposed in the cliffs 
on the sea-shore. ‘The whole of the western side 1s 
bounded by a:coarse sandstone called the Millstone Gnit, 
upon which the coal-measures repose. (See diagram in 
No. 51, 19th Jannary,—L, M, N.) 

The entire area contained within those limits is occu- 
pied by the Coal Formation; that is, by beds of sand- 
stone and shale, of great variety of composition and 
thickness, interstratified with seams of coal, also of 
different degrees of thickness. ‘The valuable seams of 


coal ure in general very deep beneath the surface of the | 


ground, and are got at by a circular opening like a well, 

called a shaft, which is sunk perpendicularly through the 

strata. ‘The following enumeration of the different strata 
thus passed through in order to get at workable seams 

of coal in Bigge’s Main Colliery, to the depth of 1158 

feet, will show the numerous alternations of which the 

coal-ineasures consist in the Newcastle Coal Field. 

section is one of several given by Mr. N. J. Winch, a 

practical mining engineer, in his ‘ Observations on the 

Geology of Northumberland and Durham,’ published in 

the 4th volume of the ‘ Transactions of the Geological 

Society.’ 

1, From the surface of the ground they sunk 
through clay to the depth of .......... 

2. Through sandstoiie ae rsniene terme d 

8. They then came upon thie first seam of coal, 
but which had only a thickness of...... 

4, From this seam to the thick bed called the 
High Main Coal of the Tyne, they sunk - 
through 29 different beds of sandstone and 
shale, varying in thickness from 40 inches 
to 31 feet, interstratified with 8 seams of 
coal from 5 to 18 inches thick, amounting 
tomether tO ..ccccccererevencvens 

5. The High Main Coal of the Tyne had here 
a thickness Of....esees 

6. From this seam they sunk farther through 
52 beds of sandstone and shale, varying 
from 5 inches to 34 feet in thickness, in- 
terstratified with 19 different seams of 
coal from 2 to 87 inches thick, and 
amounting together to... ..eeeeereees 

7. They now came upon the seam of coal 
called the Low Main Coal of the ‘T'yne, 
which had in this pit a thickness of .... 

8. And they sank beneath this through 10 dif- 
ferent beds of stone, from 12 inches to 12 
feet thick, and two seams of coal of 4 and 
12 inches, making together.......++.. 82 
and giving a total depth of ... .2e L158 

having passed through 125 different: strata, including 

32 seams of coal, 19 of which have been worked. 

The coal-measures are not spread horizontally over 
the area, but lie in an inclined position, and at different 
angles of inclination in different parts of it. ‘The conse- 
quence of this is, that the same seamis are found at much 
ereater depths from the surface in one colliery than in 
another. Nor will two distant parts of the field give 
the same succession of strata in a vertical section, elther 
as regards the beds of stone, or the seams of coal, in 
point of quality and thickness: the same seam of coal 
swells out in ene place, and in another thins off so much 
as not to be worth working, and the same thing occurs 
with the sandstone and shale; a bed of stone or seam 
of coal, which in one pit is scarcely perceptible, will 
increase in another pit to several feet. Neither is it to 
be understood that ‘these coal strata are continuous over 
the whole area: although that they ence were so is more 
than probable. In many parts of the district, a vertical 
section of the ground would at one time have presented 
an appearance similar to the following -— 


ft. 
102 
2 


~ 


in. 
G 


8 


418 


503 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The |. 


$ 
4, 


[DecEMBER 14, 


Fig. 1.’ 


bh aeeeeeee ooo J. ncusgamuecsotassanes atiesaonds 008 SOU OOK PHILS OC CONC ORES Erle CoenUsReYrE Or 
Ny “s o 


er 
x 





fe” ae 
i] . ae 
-’~ Ne nen, een at4 
ro dl ~~ 
Ce ee _ —_— a — : ? 
A ae ee aed x. " ; ete” ae 


but a section now shows that the surface has been deeply 


indented, and great portions of the superior strata have 
been carried away, so that it exhibits the following 
appearance. 


Fig. 2. 
- ie ou, ‘ 


- Vd; 4 
heal A ih Ae {Ue 

j FA} ih 
WaFss Fie eae ea = 
ante renee 








Settle, - _— a ee — s — , OE ra, 


i el 
e 


This deep.furrowing of the land, which is common 
more or less to every coal-field in the island, has been 
ascribed by geologists to the action of great floods at a 
period antecedent to all human records, carrying alone 
with them gravel and blocks of stone, which have 
ploughed up the ground and borne off the loosetred 
materials to-be afterwards -deposited in distant parts, 
leaving behind them extensive valleys. The eflect of. 
this action has been called denudation by geologists ;. 
and the valleys so formed, which are not peculiar to 
coal-fields, but exist in many otlter parts of Eneland, 
are called valleys of denudation. ‘The Weald of Sussex 
and Kent, between the South Downs and the North 
Downs, is a remarkable example on a great scale; 
and those who wish to understand the subject will find 
avery clear explanation of the formation of the Weald, 
in Dr. Fitton’s ‘ Geological Sketch of the Environs 
of Hastings,’ (Longman, 1833) and in Lyell’s ‘ Prin- 
ciples of Geology,’ vol. iii. ch. xxi. The surface of the 
Coal Field of Northumberland and Durham has been 
scooped out in a remarkable degree by these denudations. 
The valley through which the river Teame runs extends 
from north to south, between the Wear and Tyne, and 
is between one and two miles broad. The coal mea- 
sures must here have been originally continuous, entirely 
across the valley from hil] to hill; but they have been 
excavated and carried bodily away, not only to the level 
of the bed of the Teame, but to the amount of some- 
times more than 180 feet beneath the actual bed of that 
river. Under the surface of the fields, on both sides of. 
the Teame, drifted rubbish and gravel fill a broad and 
deep trough in the coal-measures ; from this trough and 
the valley above it, there has been a total removal of the 
superior strata, including’ several seams of coal, which 
had they been continuous in their original e tent would 
have been highly valuable. (The hollows in the surface 
of Fig. 2 will make this account of the denudation of 
the valley of the Téame more intelligible.) The High 
Main Coal appears in the sides of the hills, on the east 
and west of ‘the valley; another workable seain, a yard 
thick, is cut off by the gravel on each side of the trough ; 
and the Low Main Coal is continuous across the valley 
beneath ‘the trough. Another denudation has taken 
place in the valley of the Derwent, the next’valley above 
the Teame; and one of much greater extent is that of 
the whole breadth of the valley of the Tyne, above 


Newcastle. <A large part of these three denudations is 


1833.]. 


in the upper portion of the strata, and the destruction 
of coal has been immense. Dr. Buckland, in his 
evidence before the Committee of the House of Com- 
mons, above alluded to, states that he considers it 
probable that one half of the uppermost and best beds 
of coal, on the west and south of Newcastle, have been 
destroyed by denudation. 

There are, besides, several parts of the district where, 
although the other beds of the Coal Formation exist, 
the seams of coal are either altogether wanting, or are 
s0 mixed with bands or layers of stone, or are so thin, 
that they would not pay the expense of working them 
at the prices which can at present be obtained for the 
coals, It also frequently happens that, by the inclined 
position of the strata, the superior beds containing the 
best coal terminate at the surface, or crop out, as the 
miners call it. ‘Thus, in Figure 1, the seam of coal a, 
which would be found by sinking a pit in any part of 
the country between e and f, crops out at f and there 


terminates: in like manner the seam 5 crops out at g, 


and thus in the country between g and A, instead of 
having the three seams of coal, a, 6, c, they have only 
the last of these. If they go deep in sinking their shaft, 
they may come upon the seam of coal d, which the 
inclination of the strata may have brought within their 
reach, but which was unavailable in the country from 
e to f on account of its great depth. All the most valu- 
able mines in the southern division of the coal-field are 
situated between the river Wear and the magnesian 
limestone which bounds the coal-field on the east; and 
a large proportion of the country west of the Wear, by 
this cropping out of the beds is occupied by barren 
strata of sandstone and shiale, containing, occasionally 
only, a few small and unimportant seams, but no good 
workable beds of coal: and there is an enormous thick- 
ness of barren coal-measures beneath the low main coal, 
that crop out westward between Newcastle and the 
mountain called Cross Fell. It is probable, too, that 
along the whole west frontier of the triangular portion 
of the coal-field north of the Tyne, one-half of the area 
is occupied by strata barren of workable coal. 

‘No bed of coal is uniformly good throughout any 
great extent: the high main coal is for many miles so 
deteriorated in quality, and so mixed up with stone, that 
it becomes worthless in many places. ‘he coal seams 
worked in this field vary from eighteen inches to four- 
teen feet in thickness; but in the thick seams there is 
always a considerable portion of such bad quality as not 
to be saleable ata profit; and the best quality is seldom 
more than about six or seven feet thiek. Throughout 
the whole of this field the best coals are those in the 
superior part of the series of strata of which the forma- 
fion is composed. ‘The best beds are those called by the 
miners the high main and the low main; and deep as 
the latter is for mining operations, it is quite a superior 
bed, if we compare that depth with the enormous thick- 
ness of the sandstone and shale beneath it. ‘This 
thickness of the inferior strata is not ascertained by 
sinking under the low main coal, but by the position of 
the strata, as will be readily understood by the following 
diagram :— i 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


485 


Suppose .the strata A to be the coal-measures lying in 
inclined stratification, uniformly one over the other, until 
they come to the older deposit of millstone grit B, and 
that @ is the.low main coal. It is obvious that the 
thickness of the strata nnder the low main coal must be 
the leneth of a line drawn perpendicular to the inclina- 
tion of the strata, from the lower surface of the coal to 
the lower surface of the stratum which rests upon the 
millstone grit, that is, the line d c: now as the distance 
in the surface of the ground from @ to b may be several 
miles, the depth from the surface to the low main coal 
bears but a small proportion to the thickness of the 
strata beneath it. It is thus that geologists estimate 
the thickness of a series of strata; from which it appears ‘ 
that they see much deeper into the structure of the crust 
of the globe than is commonly supposed. 

We have said that the coal-measures have been found 
to be prolonged under the strata of magnesian limestone, 
which bounds the coal-field on the south-east. It was 
supposed, till of late years, to cut off the coal-measures 
in that direction; but coal las been worked under the 
limestone at Hatton colliery, and there are some ancient 
works under it at Ferry Hill, and some other places in 
the county of Durham. There are, however, great 
difficulties in excavating the coal from under the lime- 
stone, from two causes ; in the first place, there is a want 
of conformity of stratification between the beds of lime- 
stone aud the inferior coal-measures, so that no exami- 
nation of the dip of the limestone would give an idea of 
that of the beds below ; and, secondly, there is interposed 
between the limestone and the coal-measures an ex- 
tremely irregular bed of sand or sandstcne, which gives 
passage to an enormous quantity of water. 

Most of the particulars stated in the latter part of this 
Section bear upon the important question of the proba- 
ble duration of the Newcastle coal-tield. ‘This subject we 
shall discuss after we have described the mode of work- 
ing the mines and some of the difficulties and dangers 
attending it, and which we propose to do in our next 
Section. 





THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No, 8. 


(France, concluded.) 

Arter having exhibited the condition of the labourers of 
France such as it was before the Revolution, and after- 
wards under the reign of Bonaparte, it remains for us 
to examine their present circumstances, since the peace, 
and under the constitutional government of the Charter. 

In 1827, Mr. Charles Dupin, the French _ political 
economist, observed that, ‘ In five-sixths of France, 
the agricultural implements are still of the rudest 
form. ‘They are so badly constructed, so ill adapted 
to the anima! power which sets them in motion, that 
they cause one-half of it, two-thirds, and sometimes 
three-fourths, to be wasted. * * ‘There are still 
some parts of France where the people have not a suf- 
ficient number of domestic animals to prevent the 
women being employed as beasts of burden or draught . 
they drag barrows and dung-carts, carry heavy burdens, 
drive the plough, \and share the most irksome labours. 
Borne down by excessive toil,—exposed to the sun, the 
rain, and the snow,—these women have their faces, 
hands, feet, and neck covered with a dark-tanned skin, 
which makes them resemble Hottentots, while their 
hard, angular features remind one of Tartars.” Yet he 
acknowledges that many improvements had taken place. 
Agricultural societies have been formed in the chief 
towns of ihe departments, which have become a sort ot 
school of mutual instruction for farmers. ‘The introduc- 
tion of artificial fodder for cattle, such as lucerne, vetchies, 


clover, mangel wurzel, &c., has proved very beneficial. 


Attention has been paid to ameliorate the breed of horses | 
The cattle are better fed than formerly ; a number are 
imported from Germany in a lean condition, and fattened 


lin France, The breed of sheep has also been muclt 


improved. ‘The cottages of the peasants are also kevt 


‘86 


somewhat cleaner ; their windows are now mostly glazed. 
But all these improvements are partial, and confined to 
certain localities; and it can hardly be otherwise in a 
country where the great mass of the landed proprietors 
are poor, low, and ignorant,—where one haif of them 
at least cannot read. ‘The small proprietors of land, to- 
eether with the métayers, of whom we shall presently 
speak again, amount to four millions, and their families 
probably to twelve millions more. It is easy, therefore, 
to calculate the injurious effects of the ignorance in which 
the majority of this immense class have been brought 
up, by the want of elementary instruction in the com- 
muues or parishes, 15,000 of which have been till now 
left without teachers of any sort. ‘The law that passed 
the House of Deputies in the session of the present year, 
for the establishment of primary instruction all over the 
country, will slowly but surely ameliorate the condition 
of the peasantry. 

The system of letting land to métayers, who give the 
landlord one half of the produce, which is too deeply 
rooted in France to be easily or speedily altered, is 
another great cause of the depression of French agricul- 
ture. The Revue Trimestrielle, or French Quarterly 
Review, for April, 1828, observed that “ in a very large 
part of the kingdom, in all the central provinces, farmers 
are hardly known; that not less than one half of the 
whole soil of France is cultivated by unfortunate mé- 
tayers, who engage to occupy the land for a period of 
three years, and to cultivate it, paying half the produce 
to the proprietor as rent. The proprietor supplies the 
stock indispensable to its petty farming, the grain re- 
quired for the first sowing as well as fur the support of 
the métayer and his family until the first harvest. ‘Lhe 
métayer works, sows, reaps ; and he and his family feed 
on the produce, after which the proprietor gets the re- 
mainder. Sometimes a middleman, under the name of 
x farmer, is interposed between the landlord and the 
metayer.” The introduction of these middlemen has, of 
course, a tendency to increase the obstructions to improve- 
ment which appear to be a necessary condition of the 
metayer system in its best form. Even in those provinces 
where leases are in practice, their duration is, too short 
to enable the farmer to indemnify himself for the outlay 
which the introduction of new methods of cultivation 
would require. ‘The system of: cultivation by a rotation 
of crops is followed in French Flanders and a few more 
proviices. 

We must say something of the present taxation of 
France. The tax, or contribution fonciére as the French 
call it, is one of the main sources of the French revenue. 
It has replaced the old ¢aille, and is heavier than the latter 
was, but is more equally distributed. This tax is levied 
on all lands and houses in proportion to their net revenue. 
There are, besides, the personal contribution and the 
mobiliére. ‘The personal is a kind of poll-tax, rated at 
three days’ labour ;—the value of the day’s labour is 
fixed by the council-general of the department. The 
highest rate is one franc and a half (1s. 8d.) per day ; 
the lowest is eighty centimes, or 8d. Women and boys 
under eighteen years of age are exempt. The mobiliére 
(tax upon moveables) is levied according to the rent of 
each dwelling, 3 per cent. on the rent; and levied on all 
rents from 200 to 2500 frances, which is the maximum 
to which the per centage extends. No person pays less 
than five francs nor more than eighty francs a year, for 
which the landlord is answerable to the government. 
Jn Paris and other large cities, where it would be 
difficult to estimate the amount of three days’ labour, 
in lieu of the personal tax a duty is levied on all articles 
of consumption which enter the town, which js called 
octrot. ‘This produces in Paris alone four millions per 
annum. ‘Shere is also a graduated door and window-tax. 
The general amount of the property-tax is voted every 
year by the legislature, when the quota of each depart- 
ment is also fixed, ‘The amount seldom varies, but 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{DECEMBER 14, 


when an additional sum is required for the revenue, the 
Chambers vote what are called additional centimes, so 
much per cent. above the original tax. ‘The local 
expenses of ‘each department are likewise supplied by 
levying additional cents according to the exigencies of 
the year. -These are’called cenéimes facultatifs. And 
the communes raise also their centimes commiunau, to 
supply their local wants. See Goldsmitli’s ‘ Statistics 
of France,’ 1832. | ; 

The prohibitive system to which France still tenaci- 
ously adheres in her Custom-house regulations 1s un- 
doubtedly injurious to several branches of her agriculture. 
Her wines, her staple produce for exportation, which give 
employment to three millions of people, being one-tenth 
of her population, and in the quality of which she is 
unrivalled, are sold on the spot for from a halfpenny 
to three halfpence a bottle, while the exportation has 
diminished one-half of what it was previous to 1790. 
In a petition from the wine-growers of the department 
of La Gironde, dated 1828, the particulars and the causes 
of this decline were stated at full length.- The causes 
resolve themselves into this short sentence: “ the fatal 
delusion of attempting to sell to foreigners without 
buying of them.” Iron and _ linen, the principal eqni- 
valents which the north of Europe has to give in ex- 
change for French wine and brandy, are in a manner 
prohibited by the enormous duties laid on those articles. 
by the government of France, in order to encourage, as 
it is called, the ‘native manufacturer. Tre consequence. 
has been that the importation of French wines into 
Prussia has declined from 15,000 tuns to 4000, that 
into Sweden from 7000 tuns to 100 only, into Denmark 
and Norway from 5000 to ]000, into Russia from 
12,000 to 4000, and to Hamburg, Bremen, Lubeck, 
and Dantzic, from 46,000 to 15,000. See an interesting” 
article on this curious snbject in the ‘ Foreign Quarterly, 
Review,’ No, VI. Jannary, 1829. : 

We must conelude this sketch of the state of French. 
avriculture by repeating what we said at the beginning, 
namely, that in speaking of such an extensive country. 
as France, allowance must be imade for differences 
of localities, climate, and habits. The northern, east-. 
ern, and north-western provinces are tlie most de- 
pressed ; the peasantry of Britany is still in a wretched 
half-savage state, that of Champagne is very poor, that 
of Picardy is little better off; Normancy is the best part. 
of northern France. ‘The central provinces are blessed 
with a good soil and fine climate, which compensate for, 
other disadvantages, aud ‘render the existence of the 
people comparatively easy. In the southern provinces 
the wants of the people are less, provisions are cheap 
and fuel and raiment less essential. But the habits of | 
the southern peasant or farmer are totally different from 
those of the northern one, and no proper comparison 
can be instituted between the two. Upon the whole it 
may be stated that the agricultural population of France 
has improved within the last forty years, but that they 
would have improved infinitely more were it not for their 
ignorance, their inveterate habits of erroneous cultivation, 
the bad system: of tilling land; the’too great subdivision | 
of property into small patches, and the mistaken fiscal 
or financial system of the country. 


DISSOLUTION OF: THE LONG PARLIAMENT 
BY CROMWELL. 


Tue 16th of December is the anniversary of the day 
on which Oliver Cromwell assumed the title of Lord 


High Protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, in 


the year 1653. We gave a sketch of the career of this 
extraordinary man in oue of our early Numbers, when 
noticing the anniversary of his birth, on the 25th of April, 
1599. We now present a copy of a paiiting by the late 
Benjamin West, the subject of which is one of the most 
famous events of Cromwell's history, his dissolution of 
the Long Parliament, on the 20th of April in the same 


1833. ]. 


year in which he took upon him the supreme authority. 
This was the only dissolution of parliament that ever 
took place in St. Stephen’s Chapel, and the scene was 
the most extraordinary of which the House of Commons 
ever was the theatre. ‘I'he longest English parliainent on 
record.was Charles the Second’s Long Parliament, which 
met on the Sth of May, 1661,. and was not dissolved til] 
the 24th of Jannary, 1678, after it had existed sixteen 
years, eight mouths,. and sixteen days; but what is 
commonly known by the name of the Long Parliament 
is its more famous predecessor, which first met on the 
3rd of November, 1640, in the reion of Charles I. A 
history of this parliament would comprehend the be- 
ginning, progress, and completion of by far the greatest 
revolution England has undergone since it first became 
one kingdom ; for assuredly neither the Norman Con- 


quest, nor the Reformation, nor the Settlement of 1688, 


momentous as each of those chauges was, will bear to 
be compared in magnitude with that brought about 
within the period in gnestion. In the Revolution of 
1649 the crown was not merely taken from one family 
and given to another, but the monarchy was utterly 
overthrown ; and the church also, which had been merely 
reformed in the preceding century, was now entirely 
abolished. 

These mighty things were done by the Lone Parlia- 
ment—which, however, as other such workers of great 
effects have frequently been, was at last mastered and 
destroyed by the very agencies it liad itself called into 
being aud employed to execute its purposes. The army, 
with which it had struck down the crown, proved equally 
irresistible when it turned round upon the representa- 
tives of the people. About the end of the year 1648, a 
few weeks before the trial and execution of the king, 
Colonel Pride having blockaded the House with a party 
of military, had forcibly seized forty-one of the members 
in the lobby, and had shut out above oue hundred and 
sixty more, none of whom were ever again allowed to 
take their places. This clearme of the [Honse, how- 
ever, though it sufficed for that occasion, was not enough 
for the ultimate desiens of the great director of all these 
operations. ‘The desire to rule without parliaments, 
strong as it may have been in Charles, was certainly at 
least equally strong in his rival and successor Cromwell. 

Cromwell was at this time residing in Whitehall; and 
various consultations had been held by him with his 
officers in reference to the matter which he had so much 
at heart. ‘There is no reason, however, to believe that 
he had ever announced an intention of attempting more 
than to induce the parliament to dissolve iiself. That 
body had for some time certainly lost entirely the regard 
and respect of the nation, and all parties ionged to see its 
existence brought to a close. ‘here was, however, no 
authority in the commonwealth by which it could be 
legally dissolved. A motion had been made by a 
military member, one of Cromwell's creatures, that the 
dissolution should take place; but it was negatived 
after debate, and the House proceeded with its business 
as usual. On this Colonel Ingoldsby proceeded to 


Whitehall, and finding Cromwell, told him what had 


taken place. He was, it is said, greatly enraged, and 
instantly commanded some of his officers to fetch a party 
of soldiers, with whom he forthwith marched down to 
the House. 

Nothing affords more complete evidence of the surprise 
and trepidation by which all men were struck by this 
bold movement than the diversity of statement that 
characterizes the several narrations of the‘allair; even of 
those drawn up by persons who must, it wonld appear, 
have had the very best means of information. Mr. 
Brayley, in an article in his ‘ Londiniana,’ has collected 
together the accounts of Dugdale, Whitelocke, Bate, Lud- 
low, and Clarendon; ,and there is scarcely an incident 
in the story that ig told in exactly the same way by 
al, these writers. Some say that he proceeded into the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘House alone, leaving the soldiers jn 
_assert that he took a file of his musqueteers im with him, 


‘for some time. 


AS7 


the lobby; others 


One account inakes him never to have eone to a seat: 
according to-another, he sat down and heard the debate 
He then, Ludlow informs US, addressed 
himself to St. John, the Chief Justice, tellino him that 
‘‘ he was come to do that which erieved him to the very 
soul, and that he-had earnestly, with tears, prayed to 
God against it, nay, that he had rather be torn in pieces 
than do it, but that there was a necessity laid upon him 
therein, in honour to the glory of God and the good of 
the nation.” ‘This was spoken so as not to be general! y 
heard. Immediately after he called to Major General 
Harrison, who was on ‘the other side of the House, to 
come to him, and to him he declared that “ he judged 
the parliament ripe for a dissolution, and this to be the 
time of doing it.” Harrison requested him to consider 
seriously before attempting a thing so great and dan- 
gerous, “You say well,” he replied, and sat still for 
about a quarter of an hour longer, till, the debate havine: 
closed, the question was about to be put. He then said 
again to Harrison, “ This is the time I must do it,” and 
suddenly starting up, first addressed some violent re- 
proaches to the Speaker, alleging that the parliament 
had cheated the conntry, and displayed only the grossest 
venality ; and theu, stamping with his foot, he, in a 
furious inanner, desired the Speaker to leave the chair, 
and called out to the House, according to Bate, “ For 
shame! get you gone! give place to honester men, and 
those that will more faithfully discharge their trust.” 
Ludlow says, he told them that the Lord had done with 
them, and had chosen other instruments for the carry- 
ing on his work that were more worthy. 

Although several of the members rose, one only had 
the boldness to speak, in spite of his commands that 
they should remain silent. ‘This member, who has been 
thought to be Sir Peter Wentworth, inveighed in bitter 
terms against the atrocity of the proceeding. He had 
not, however, uttered more than a sentence or two, 
when Cromwell, stepping into the middle of the House, 
cut him short, by exclaiming ‘‘ Come! come! quick, 
put an end to your sitting; call themin! call them in!’ 
Two files of imusqueteers now marched into the Elonse. 
On this, Sir Harry Vane called out from his place, 
“ ‘Tins is not honest ; yea, it is against morality and 
common honesty.” “Oh! Sir Harry Vane! Sir Harry 
Vane!” answered Cromwell, “ the Lord deliver me from 
Sir Harry Vane!” He followed these words by a string 
of imvectives addressed to other individual members. 
The whole was now a scene of confilsion and uproar. 
This is the moment which West has chosen. The 
Speaker is still in Ins chair, in vain endeavouring’ to 
calm the disorder. ‘The clerks also retain their places 
at the table; but in front, of that stands the dictator, 
pointing with emphatic contempt to the mace, the vene- 
rated symbol of the dignity of the assembly, and calling 
to one of the soldiers, who is obeying his orders, “ ‘Take 
away that fool’s bauble.” Of the rest of the troops, 
some are at his back, and others are seen with their 
raised halberts mixed with the members in every part of 
the House, and endeavouring to prevent the atteinpts of 
several of them io speak. ‘The person on the left of the 
picture, who is scen stretching forth his hands in an 
attitude of such vehement enthusiasm, and who has 
evidently arrested Cromwell's eye as he is issuing his 
command for the removal of the mace, may be supposed 
to be Wentworth or Vane, protesting against that last 
excess of indignity and outrage. ‘Phe Speaker, having 
declined to leave his chair until he was foreed, was 
handed down from it by Harrison. Ail the other 
members then retired, Cromwell remaiming till the last 
had left the House. He then ordered the doors to be 
locked, and walked away... =. ., 

It is worth while to add.the passage which Mr. Brayley 
has quoted from Whitelocke’s ‘ Memorials.’ ‘ Amoug 


PB THE PENNY MAGAZINE. {[DecemsBer 14, 1833. 


-all' the parliament’ men,’’ says this writer, “ of whom |. ruined by their servants ; and those whom they had 
many wore swords, and would sometimes brag high, raised now pulled down their masters. An example 
not one man offered to draw his sword against Cromwell, | never to be forgotten, and scarce to be paralleled in any 
or to make the least resistance against him, but all of | story, by which all persons may be instructed how un- 
them tamely departed the house; and thus it pleased | certain and subject to change all worldly affairs are ; 
God that this assembly, famous through the world for how apt to fall when we think them highest ; how God 
its undertakings, actions, and successes, having subdued | makes use of strange and unexpected means to bring 
all their enemies, were themselves overthrown and | his purposes to pass.” 





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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST 
London: Printed by W:LL1am CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


THE PENNY MAGAZ 





OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Decemper 21, 1832 





THE AURORA BOREALIS, 


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THE — Borealis 1s a beautifully luminous meteor, 
appearing in the form of streams of light, rays, arches, 
and crowns. A description of this splendid phenomenon, 


which enlivens the long darkness of the Arctic regions, 


has been- given by Mr. A. De Capell: Brooke, in his, 


‘Winter in Lapland,’ to which work we ‘are ‘indebted 
for ‘the ‘subject’ of our cut. But we’ shall take the 
liberty to condense his account, and to generalize it by 
some details from other sources. : 

He states, that in September the approach of the 
winter season ‘led to the expectation that the Northern 
Lights would soon appear, and in the hope of observing 
them he wenerally walked out after dark. On the 21st 
he first obtained a sight of ‘them. The night was clear 
and ‘frosty, with ’ little or no. wind, and,:on going out 
about, midnight, the: heavens were perfectly- illuminated. 
The lights ‘flitted, alone with amazing velocity 1 in large 
patchés of a pale hue; without’ assuming’ any defined 
form, 


behind the Sorée mountains. Subsequent. observations 


showed this to’ be ‘so: _generally’ the course of the Aurora, 


that he habitually directed’ his attention ‘to the’ north- 
eastern part of the horizon when watching for: its: 


of light, which exhibited an exact fesémblande to the 
zeflexion of a distant fire; and rarely remained low in 


the horizon, but Amanted up towards the zenith, and. 


Vou. IL. 


Crary awison a 
- a io Sens “4-— 


[ Aurora Borealis. i 


than: Mr. Brooke supplies. 


limited to one. 
contiriuous stream of light, bright at the horizon and in- 


‘They proceeded from the north-east, disappearing. 
in the opposite quarter, and continuing to rise at intervals 


Its 
first appearance was generally that of irrecular gleams 





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there assumed an inconceivable variety of form and 
diversity of motion. 

The appearances of the ‘Aurora increased in number 
and brilliancy with the advance of the season. Some- 
times it formed a splendid arch across the heavens, of 
pale lambent flame, running with inconceivable: velocity, 
and resembling the spiral | Motions of a serpent. ‘This 
arched form of the Aurora seems the most magnificent of 
all its diversified appearances, and we are enabled, from 
other observers, to furnish a more particular description 
The arches are sometimes 
single ; and sometimes several concentric ones appear; 
but, generally, they rarely exceed five, and are seldom 
They are’ sometimes composed of a 


creasing’ in brilliancy at the zenith;’ and, when the in- 


ternal motion is rapid, and the light brilliant, the beams of 
which they are ‘composed are discernible. 
‘motion appears as a sudden ‘glow, not proceeding from 
‘any visible concentration of matter, but bursting forth in 
several parts of the arch, as if'an ignition of combustible 
‘matter had taken place, ‘and’ spreading: itself rapidly 
‘towards each extremity. Mr: De Capell Brooke, in the 
‘inscription of- the plate which we have copied above, 
‘says, “ The Author in his‘travelling-dress as he travelled 


| This internal 


through Lapland, with an appearance of the Nortliern 

Lights.” The arch in the plate is defined at the top; 

but’ in the arches described by Captain Parry, the 
3 R 


490 


lower part only was generally well defined, the space 
under it appearing dark as if a black cloud had been 
there, which, however, was not the case, as the stars 
were seen in it unobscured except by the light of the 
Aurora. The revolution of an arch from rorth to south 
occupies at different periods a space of time varying 
from twenty minutes to two hours; and sometimes it 
appears stationary for several hours together. 

Innumerable streams of white or yellowish light 
appear sometimes, to occupy the greater portion of the 
heavens to the south of the zenith. Some of these 
streams of light are in soft lines like rays, others crooked 
and waving in all sorts of irregular figures, and moving 
with great rapidity in various directions. Among 
these might frequently be observed the shorter collections 
or bundles of rays, which, moving with greater velocity 
than he rest, have acquired the name of merry dancers. 

Totcl darkness would sometimes ensue from the 
sudden disappearance of the Aurora; and then it 
would as suddenly reappear in forms altogether difler- 
ent from those which preceded, overspreading the sky 
with sheets of silvery light, wafted quickly along, like thin 
strata of clouds, before the wind. Sometimes narrow 
streaks of flame shoot forth with extreme velocity, tra- 
versing in a few seconds the entire concave of the hea- 
vens, and disappearing beneath the south-eastern hori- 
zon. Occasionally broad masses of light suddenly 
appear in the zenith, and descend towards the earth in 
the form of beautiful continnous radiated circles. 

Speaking generally, the lustre of the polar lights may 
be described as varying in kind as weil as intensity. 
Sometimes it is pearly, sometimes imperfectly vitreous, 
sometimes also metallic. Its deyree of intensity varies 
from a very faint radiance to a light nearly equal to that 
of the moon. 

The colonrs of the Aurora Borealis are of various 
tints, and do not seem to depend on the presence of any 
luminary, bat to be generated by the motion of the 
beains. The rays or beams are steel-grey, yellowish- 
erey, pea-green, celandine-green, gold-yellow, violet- 
blue, purple; sometimes rose-red, crimson-red, blood- 
red, greenish-red, orange-red, and lake-red. Some of 
the beams appear as if tinged with black, and resemble 
dense columns of smoke. ‘The arches are sometimes 
nearly black, passing into violet-blne, grey, gold-yellow, 
or white, bounded by an edge of yellow. ‘The colours 
are also sometimes vivid and prismatic. Maupertuis 
describes a very remarkable red-coloured polar light, 
which he observed at Oswer Zornea on the 18th of De- 
cember, 1786. An extensive region of the heavens 
towards the south appeared tinged of so lively a red, 
that the whole constellation Orion seemed as if dyed 
with blood. The light was for some time fixed, but 
soon became moveable, and after having successively 
assumed all the tints of violet and blne, it formed a 
dome, the summit of which approached the zenith in the 
south-west. Its splendour was so great as to be in no 
degree affected by the bright hght of the moon. 

Early observers were disposed to assign to the Aurora 
an immense elevation above the surface of the earth. 
The height of that seen in 1737 was computed at $25 
miles. Bergmann, from a mean of thirty computations, 
forms an average estimate at 460 miles. Euler gives 
the altitude of several thousand miles to the Aurora; 
and Mairan fixes the elevation of the greatest number 
at 600 miles at least. Dr. Blagden brought it down to 
100; and Mr. Dalton could not assign a less elevation 
to the Aurora seen in this country in 1826. But the 
result of the observations made by the several arctic 
expeditions seems to be, that the height of the Aurora 
is different at. different times; it often occurs at eleva- 
tions much higher than the region of clouds; though 
instances are mentioned by Captain Franklin and Dr. 
Richardson, in which the Aurora has been seen at a 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DecEMBER 2], 


less elevation than that of dense clouds, the wnder 
surfaces of which they often saw illuminated by the 
meteor. 

The magnetic property of the Aurora—or its power o} 
agitating the magnetic needle—had long been suspected 
by philosophers ; and though still doubted by some, and 
not confirmed by the observations of Captains Parry and 
Foster, seems now sufficiently established by the obser- 
vations of Captain Franklin, Lientenant Hood, and Dr. 
Richardson. At present, however, little more than the 
fact seems to have been ascertained ; as great obscurity 
still hangs over the cause from which this effect proceeds, 
and the mode of its operation; and it sometimes hap- 
pens that one observation has a tendency to nentralise 


| the conclusion to which another would Jead. The Aurora 


sometimes approached the zenith without producing the 
usual effect on the position of the needle. It 1s gene- 
rally most active where it seems to have emerged from 
behind a cloud; and the oscillations appear only to take 
place when beams or fringes of the meteor are on the 
same plane with the dip of the needle. Captain Frank- 
lin was led to consider that the effect of the Aurora on 
the needle varied with its height above the earth. That 
it; did not depend on the brilhancy of the meteor was 
manifest, from the fact that, in hazy, clondy niglits, the 
needle deviated considerably, thongh no Aurora was then 
visible: and he felt unable to determine whether this 
proceeded from a concealed Aurora behind the clouds, 
or elitirely from the state of the atmosphere. Clouds 
sometimes during the day assumed the forms of the 
Aurora, and he was inclined to connect with their ap- 
pearance the deviation of the needle, which was occa- 
sionally observed at such times. 

The appearance of the Aurora is said to be sometimes 
attended with singular noises. ‘Though Parry, Frank- 
lin, Richardson, Scoresby and others never heard such 
noises, and Hood and Brooke only ¢hink they did, all 
express an inclination to defer to the uniform testimony 
of natives and residents so far as to admit that such 
sounds may be sometimes audible, but their rare 
occurrence is demonstrated by the fact, that Captain 
Franklin’s party felt unable to confirm this report, 
though the appearance of tlle Aurora had been registered 
343 times at Bear Lake in the season 1829-1826. 
The noise, as described, appears to be a sort of crackling, 
whizzing, rustling sound, compared to that of an electric 
spark,—to the falling of hail,—to the rustling of a large 
flag in a gale of wind,—to the noise made by a flock of 
sheep in breaking through a hedge,—to that caused by 
shaking or waving a piece of paper,—and to the rushing 
of wind. Professor Jameson declares his belief in the 
existence of such sounds, and states that he has himself 
heard them; but he affords no explanation of the phe- 
nomenon. 

In the polar regions the Aurora begins to appear in 
August, and continues till May; but the lights are the 
most intensely luminous from November to March. 
The number observed in the season 1820-182], at 
Fort Enterprise, is thus registered by Lientenant Hood: 
In August 10, September 6, October 7, November 5, 
December 20, January 17, February 22, March 25, 
April 18; in May, the brightness prevented more than 
nine from being observed. This is more than double 
the number observed at Cumberland House in the same 
season. 

The Aurora is very various in its duration. It some- 
times appears and disappears in the course of a few 
minutes; at other times it lasts during all the night, and 
occasionally continues for two or three days together. 

The Aurora has, at different times, been seeu in most 
parts of northern and central Europe. Dr. Halley has 
left a description of one which appeared in 1716, and 
which attracted very general attention. Since that 
time they have frequently been seen in England, Ac 





1833.1 THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 491 


counts have been published of those which appeared in The pit having been sunk to a sufficiently thick seam 
1826 and 1831. In the Shetland Islands, the merry | of coal, the process of excavating it begins, by cutting 
dancers, as they are there and elsewhere called, are the | out the coal laterally in what are called galleries. In 
constant attendants of clear evenings, and serve materi- | the Newcastle mines large masses of the coal, named 
ally to diminish the gloom of the long winter nights. | pillars, are left to support the roof, at short intervals ; 
It was for a long time doubtful whether this meteor was | but in Staffordshire the whole of the coal is taken away, 
confined to our hemisphere, or made its appearance also | and the roof of the mine is suffered to fall down, care 
in the other; but the observations of navigators have | being taken to support it so far as not to endanger the 
demoustrated that the Aurora occurs as well in the ant- | safety of the workmen. One set of workmen is em- 
arctic as the arctic regions, though with considerable | ployed in digging out the coal, and anotir in removing 
diversity in the accompanying phenomena. It is, for | it to the bottom of the shaft, from whence it is drawn 
instance, noticed that the Aurora Australis is generally | up by machinery to the surface. The work of the 
of a whitish colour, whilst various tints are assumed by | miners is very laborious, especially where the seams 
the Aurora Borealis. are so thin as to prevent their being in an erect posture. 

In many collieries, after the whole of the coal has been 
got out in the ordinary way of working, they gradually 





MINERAL KINGDOM.—Szcrtion 20. cut away a part of the pillars of coal which had been 
COAL. left at intervals, for the support of the roof, substituting 


Tue mode of working coal-mines varies in different parts | props of timber; and sometimes the whole of the pillar 
of the country, partly on account of the situation of the | may be taken away without the roof falling in im such 
seams of coal in the ground, and partly on account of }a manner as to impede the workman in other parts of 
customs peculiar to the spots. ‘That which we are about | tlle mine. When the whole of tle coal has been exca- 
to describe is the method usually adopted in the New- | vated and the roof does not fall down, vast empty spaces 
castle Coal Field; the chief sources of information on } or wastes are left, which very generally after a while, 
the subject being contained in the evidence given before | become filled with water, to the great danger of the 
the Commnttees of the Houses of Lords and Commons ! adjoining collieries. 
in 1829 and 1830, by Mr. Buddle and Mr. Taylor, emi- | The chief accidents to which collieries are exposed, 
nent engineers or coal viewers, and of large experience ! besides that of the roof and floor coming togvether, by 
in the north of England collieries. | the pressure over the places where the coal has been 
No instances occur in this country of beds of coal | worked out, are inundations of water, and explosions of 
lying so near the surface that they can be worked in! eas, ‘The quantity of water which flows into the mines 
open day like a stone quarry, nor are they often met with | is sometimes quite enormous, and the expense of drawing 
in the side of a hill, so that’ the mines can be pushed | it off by pumps worked by steamn-engines is one of the 
forward in a horizontal direction. When, therefore, a | heaviest charges of a colliery. Mr. Buddle states, that 
coal-field is to be won, as it is technically called, that is, in one with which he is connected, they draw eighteen 
when the coals are to be taken out, the first step is to j times the weight of water which they do of coal. It 
siuk a perpendicular circular shaft like a great well, in | very often. happens that a mine is drowned by an acci- 
order to get at the coal, and by which the miners or ; denta! opening into an old working filled with water. 
pitmen descend, aud the coal is brought to the surface. | But of all the accidents to which coal-mines are ex- 
‘The sum required for winning a field of coal, that is, the | posed, the explosions of inflammable gas or fire-damp 
coul under a certain portion of land marked out on the | are the must frequent, and by far tlie most calamitous in 
surface, is sometimes so considerable, and the risk of } their consequences. Ali coal, even the charcoal-like 
failure so great, that very few individuals venture upon | variety called anthracite, appears to contain, in its natu- 
it on their sole account. ‘I’hey are usually won by a} ral state while underground, a considerable quantity of 
company, called adventurers, who take a lease from the } free uncombined gas, which it parts with when exposed 
proprietor. On the river Tyne there are only five pro- ; to the air, or when it is relieved from great superincum- 
prietors, out of the forty-one collieries, who work their | bent pressure. ‘The gas is evolved from the coal 
own mines, aud on the river Wear there are only three; in great quantity at the ordinary temperature of the 
out of eighteen collieries ; all the rest are in the hands } mines; and instances have been known of explosions on 
of lessees or adventurers. The capital is raised by shares, | board of ships laden with fresh-worked coals. Coals 
often of smatl amount, and being transferable are con- | lying deep give out more gas than those near the sur- 
stantly in the market. Collieries vary exceedingly as to ! face, because there are openings at the surface by which 
the amount of capital required to win them, the dif- ! it escapes ; but in the deep mines it cannot have such an 
ference beins so great as from £10,000 to £150,000. | outlet, and therefore it accumulates in all the fissures of 
One of the difficulties in sinking a shaft is passing | the stone above the coal, and this sort of natural distilla- 
through quicksands ; another is the immense quantities | tion is constantly going ou. ‘Lhe fissures of the roof are 
of water which are met with im cerlain parts of the | in some places very great, and there are sometimes miles 
stratification, generally within forty or fifty fathoms from ; of communication from one fissure to another: they 
the surface, which is always dammed back by a tub. { may be considered as natural gasometers, and having no 
Mr. Buddle mentions a shaft in which he had to apply | outlet, and the process of distillation constantly going on, 
forty fathoms, that is, 240 feet, of cast-iron tubbing. | the gas becomes accumulated in them i a very highly 
Besides, one shaft is not sufficient, another being required | condensed state, the degree of condensation depending 
for drawing up the water and for ventilating the mine. | on the thickness of the surrounding rock and the quan- 
The depth of the mines is very various; in one place | tity poured in. In the course of pursuing the workings 
near Jarrow, about five miles from the mouth of the | the miners sometimes cut across one of those fissures, or 
Tyne on its southern bank, the high main coal of the ; approach so near to it, that the intervening rock: becomes 
Tyne is found within 42 feet of the ground, and the | too weak to resist the elastic force of the compressed 
same coal lies under Jarrow Lake more than 1200 feet | gas; it gives way, and then, in either case, the eas 
from the surface. This great depth is not reached by | rushes out with immense force. Thiese blowers, as they 
one perpendicular shaft, but a shaft and steam-engine | are called, emit sometimes as much as 700 hogsheads of 
under ground, with descending inclined planes. AJ eas in a minute, and continue in a State of activity for 
oreat improvement was made by this erection of steam- many months together. Sir J ames Lowther found a 
eigines to be worked in the pits underground, and | uniform current of gas in one of lis mines for two years 


which first took place in 1804. and nine months. 


3 R 2 


492 


This eas, in the state in which it issues from the coal, 
burns with a bright flame. like ordinary artificial coal 
eas; but when united with a certain proportion of the 
air of the atmosphere, the mixture becomes explosive, 
that is, the whole volume of air, upon the approach of a 
(lame, suddenly catches fire, and goes off like cunpowder, 
with a.tremendous explosion. If there be more than 
one volume or bulk of the inflammable gas to fourteen 
of atmospheric air, the mixture is explosive, and must 
not be approached with a naked flame. Great pains are 
taken to ventilate the mines so as to free them from this 
foul air, by large fires kept constantly burning at the 
month of the ventilating shaft, aided very often by air- 
pumps worked by steam-engines, to quicken the draft ; 
and which are sometimes so powerful as to draw out of 
the mine 1000 hogsheads of air in a minute. One mine 
is described by Mr. Buddle as generating so much gas 
as to require a supply of 18,000 cubic feet of atmospheric 
air in a minute to keep it in a safe working state. Men 
can continue to work and breathe in an explosive mix- 
ture of the gas without feeling any material inconve- 
nience; and: formerly such places were approached by 
making use of what were called Steel Mills, to. give light. 
his machine consists of a small wheel of steel, of six 
or seven inches diameter, moved by a little toothed wheel 
with great velocity, and by holding a piece of flint to the 
steel, a stream of. sparks is given out. Although in the 
day the light appears very feeble, in the darkness of the 
mines it is strong enongh to enable one to write by it; 
but the use of-the steel mill is not free from danger of 
explosion in certain mixtures of the gas. ‘That contri- 
rance has, however, been now completely set aside by 
the important and beautiful discovery of Sir Humphry 
Davy, the Sarery-Lamp. | _) 

‘Vhat eminent philosopher instituted a long series of ex- 
periments'on the nature.of the fire-damp, and on the pro- 
portions with which it must be mixed with atmospheric 
air in. order to become explosive. He found that, in 
respect of combustibility, the fire-damp differs most ma- 
terially, from.the other common inflammable gases, inas- 
much as it requires a far higher temperature before it can 
be set on fire;. an. iron rod, at the highest degree of red 
heat, and at the common degree of white heat, did: not 
inflame explosive mixtures of the fire-damp, aud an ex- 
plosion only took place when a 
flame was applied. He further 
made the important discovery, that 
flame-will not pass, through a tube | 
with a very small bore; and, guid- 
ed by this principle, he was ulti- 
mately. led,: through a train of 
ingenious experimeuts, to the con 
struction of an instrument which 
has saved, and will continue tu 
save, the lives of hundreds, and 
which has rendered a large extent 
of property productive that the 
proprietors were unable to turn. to 
any profitable account. The ac- 
companying is a representation of 
«Tie Davy,” as the safety-lamp 
is now called by the miners, a 
very fit mode of perpetuating the 
remembrance of their benefac- _ _ 
{Olga — | - 

The.construction of it 1s very 
simple: A. is the lamp, in which - 
oil is used; and there is a 
sinall, bent wire, moved by passing 
smoothly through a hole in the 
bottom, for the purpose of trim- 
ming the wick. B. is a cover of 
fine wire-gauze, which is fastened 
upon the lamp, and generally 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DecemMBER 21, 


locked to prevent the miners taking it off; and this cover 
is strengthened by upright wires, twisted at the top 
to receive a ring for carrying the lamp. 

Some recent improvements have been lately in- 
troduced by the application of reflectors, for the pur- 
pose of concentrating the light. An account of the 
theory of this valuable instrument will, we have no 
doubt, be acceptable to our readers, and the following, 
which is partly taken from Dr. Turner’s ‘ Elements of 
Chemistry, will, we hope, make it easily understood. 
We have said that the construction of the lamp depends 
upon two principles discovered by Sir H. Davy, namely, 
that fire-damp will only explode at a very high tem- 
perature, and that flame will not pass through very fine 
tubes. Now the power of tubes in preventing the traus- 
mission of flame is not necessarily connected with any 
particular. length, a very short one will have the effect, 
provided its diameter be proportionally reduced ; aud so 
Sir H. Davy, considering that fine wire-gauze Is an 
assemblage of: very short tubes with a very small bore, 
found that a gauze containing 625 apertures in a square 
inch, which is coarse enough to transmit a great deal of 
light, will not allow flame to pass through it. Any one 
may convince himself of this by holding a piece of fine 
wire-eauze over the flame of a candle, or, whiat is better, 
over the flame of a spirit-lainp, or of a gas-lamp, for in 
these cases the gauze becomes red-hot. Flame is gaseous 
matter heated so intensely as to be luminous, and, as we 
have said above, the flame of fire-damp is only kindled 
at a temperature. much higher than that of iron at a 
white heat: Now when flame comes in contact with the 
sides of very minute apertures, as when wire-gauze Is 
laid upon a burning jet of coal-gas, it is deprived of so 
much heat that its temperature instantly falls below the 
degree at which inflammation can be maintained, and 
consequent'y, although the gas itself is passing freely 
through the interstices, that portion of it which is above 
the gauze, although very hot, is not sufficiently so to be 
luminous,—that is, to be in a state of flame: Nor does 
this take place only when the wire is cold,—the effect is 
equally certain at any degree of heat which the flame 
can communicate to it; for since the gauze has a large 
exteut of surface, and, from its metallic nature, is a good 
conductor, it loses heat with great rapidity. Its tem- 
perature, _ therefore, though it’ may be heated to white- 


ness, is always so far beiow that of flame as to exert a 
cooling influence over the burning gas, and reduce its 


heat below the point at which it is lumimous. When the 


{lamp is carried into a part of the mine which is highly 


charged with fire-damp, the flame of the wick begins to 


enlarge, and the air, if it contain so much of the in- 


flammable gas as to be highly explosive, takes fire as 
soon as it has passed through the gauze, and then 


| burning within the lamp extinguishes the flame of the 


wick, by cutting off all communication with the pure air 
of the atmosphere. Whenever this appearance is ob- 
served, the miner must instantly withdraw ; for although 
the flaming gas within the lamp cannot pass through the 
PAUZe so as to set fire to the explosive mixture outside, 
it makes the wire gauze so hot that it would very speedily 
be wasted, and a hole, large enough to let the flame 
come out, would be burned. 
Since the discovery of the Davy Lamp accidents by 
explosion have been considerably diminished, although 


iwe still hear too frequently of many lives being lost 


from this cause. These melancholy disasters are partly 
occasioned perhaps by venturing into too dangerous 
places, but most frequently by the carelessness and cri- 
minal daring of the workmen themselves, who, in order 
to get a little more light, take off the wire-gauze cover- 


ing. 





1833.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 493 


THE PARROT. 


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IV. The Parrota. Tail equal and sqnared; head destitute of moveable crest, 
F Psittacus accipitrinus. 
G Psittacusg leucocephalus. 
V. The Cockatoos. Tail equal and squared; head with a moveable crest. 
H Psittacus sulphureus. 
I Psittacus Banksii, 
VI. Probosciger (Aras atrompe). Tail equal and squared; naked cheeks, 
and tuft on head. . ; 


I. The Macaws. Tail long and pointed; cheeks naked. 


A Psittacus Macao. 
II. The Parrakeets. Tail long and graduated; cheeks feathered. 


B Psittacus Caroline. 


C Psittacus squamosus. 
(iI, The Psittacules. Tail very short, and roundish at its termination; 


eheeks feathered. 


D Psittacus metanopterus. 
kK “ Psittacule des Phillipines.” 


Very small parrots: about half as large 
again as a sparrow. 


K, Psittacus Goliath. 


494 THE PENNY 
Ir does not seem necessary to enter into a detailed descrip- 
tion of a bird so generally known as the parrot; 1t may 
suffice to state the principal characteristics which are com- 
inon to all the differeut species of this splendid genus. 
Bill hooked, thick, and very hard and strong ; the lower 
mandible short, obtuse, and turned up to the extremity ; 
the upper mandible moveable, much curved downward 
to the point, and covered with a skinny case, whicli is 
pierced for open and orbicular nostrils. In most of the 
species the tongue is fleshy, obtuse, and entire. Feet 
formed for climbing with four toes, the two before united 
by a thin membrane ut their bases, whilst the two behind 
are quite uncounected. ‘The different species vary from 
the size of a swallow to that of a domestic fowl. 

The parrot gehus includes about one hundred and 
seventy known species. All the species are confined to 
warm climates, but their range is wider than Buffon 
considered, when he limited them to within 23° on each 
side of the equator ; for they are known to extend as far 
south as the Straits of Magellan, and are found on the 
shores of Van Diemen’s Land; and the Carohna 
parrot of the United States is resident as far to the 
north as 42°. Wilson saw them, in the month of Febru- 
ary, along the banks of the Ohio, in a snow-storm, flying 
about like pigeons, and in full cry. And another time 
he saw them, about thirty miles above the mouth of the 
Kentucky River, as they came in great numbers, scream- 
ing through the wood, about au hour after snnrise, to 
drink the salt water, of which they are remarkably fond. 

Parrots live together in families, atid seldom wander 
to any considerable distance ; these societies admit 
with difficulty a stranger among them, though they live 
in great harmony with each other. ‘They are fond of 
scratching each other’s headsand necks ; and, when they 
roost, nestle as closely as possible together, sometimes as 
many as thirty or forty sleeping in the hollow of the 
same tree. ‘There they sleep in a perpendicular posture, 
clinging to the sides by their claws and bills. ‘They are 
fond of sleep, and seem to retire into their holes several 
times in the day as if to enjoy a regular szesta, 

The young shoots of various plants, tender buds, fruits, 
grains, and nuts, which they open with much adroitness 
to obtain the kernel, are the chef aliments which the 
parrots use when in a state of liberty. We know that, 
in a state of domestication, they eat almost everything 
that is offered to them; but it has been remarked that 
certain substances, such as parsley for instance, which 
have no sensible effect on other creatures, are to parrots 
mortal poisons. In the forests, which are their favourite 
retreats, the parrots assemble in troops, and cause much 
devastation by the vast quantity of food which they con- 
sume, not merely for their subsistence, but to gratify 
that mania for destruction for which, even in their do- 
mestic state, they are noted. The loud cries of these 
bands are heard a great way off, when they seek their 
last repast before the setting of the sun. By these cries 
the planter has timely warning to employ some means 
of preventing these hosts of destroyers from alighting 
on his newly-sown fields, where, in a short time, they 
would not leave a vestige of grain. 

The description which Wilson gives of the flight of 
the Carolina parrot is probably. applicable to many 
other species which have not, in their wild state, been 
noticed by an equally intelligent observer, “ There 
is a remarkable contrast between their elegant manner 
of flight and their lame and crawling gait among the 
branches. They fly very much like the wild pigeon, in 


close compact bodies, and with great rapidity, making a- 


Joud and outrageous screaming. ‘Their flight is some- 
times im a direct line, but most usually circuitous, making 
a great variety of elegant and serpentine meanders, as if 
for pleasure.” 

Some species establish their nests on the summits of 
the highest trees. 


payinent 4s. 


The nest is composed of small sticks! 


MAGAZINE, [December 21, 


and slender twigs, interlaced with as much art as solidity. 
The rest, and this is by far the greater number, choose 
the trunks of hollow trees. ‘They there amass dust and 
arrange grass and the filaments of roots, dressing the 
interior with their own down. ‘The female lays from two 
to four eggs, altogether white, and sits on them with great 
constancy,whilst the male keeps himself at a small distance 
from the nest, attending to all the wants of his mate. 

We cannot pass over the sort of education of which 
parrots are susceptible. ‘They iearn to speak, and can 
retain and repeat, a tolerably long series of words. This 
is the result of a forced modification of the voice, to 
which they have been brought by the habit of hearing 
the same words or sounds frequently repeated; and 
which, by the instinct of imitation common to al] animals, 
but perhaps more strongly developed in the parrot than 
in most others, they are able to retain. But in this lan- 
euage, the thought or sentiment expressed is of no ac- 
count. We often hear parrots in the paroxysms of choler, 
to which they are so subject, use the same endearing 
expressions, which, when they are calm, frequently seem 
very intelligent and to the purpose, because they are 
commonly the answers to a very circumscribed circle of 
questions. The most remarkable parrot on record is 
that which is known as Colonel O’Kelly’s, a notice of 
which appeared in page 36 of this Volume of the Penny 
Magazine. 

Account of a Library for Working Men.—A correspon 
dent, who gives his name and address, has been induced, 
by our notice of Sir John Herschell’s Address to the 
subscribers of the Windsor and Eton Public Library, in 
No. 95 of the ‘ Penny Magazine, to send us an account 
of a similar institution on the Borders, with which he 
had been himself connected. He states that a gentle- 
man, well known fer his enlarged views of the state 
and prospects of society, being one evening in the place, 
was led to inquire whether there was any public library 
in the town. He was informed in reply, that there was 
one of ample extent, the entrance-money to which was 
£5, and the annual payment lds. Feeling this to be be- 
yond the reach of the poor, he inquired if there was no other 
library. He was told that there was the “ Tradesman’s 
Library,” the entrance. to which was £1, and the yearly 
This was nearer the pomt certainly, but still 
did not exactly meet the views from which this gentleman’s 
inquiries had proceeded. “ It will not supply the young,” 
was his reply; “ you must try another, to excite the desire 
of knowledge among the young and the poor.’ The 
minister of the parish, his lady, and a few other persons 
adopted the suggestion. In a few days £20 were freely 
and readily given, and the donors were called to a meeting 
in the town-hall. At this meeting some were for allowing 
to the readers the gratuitous use of the books, but the 
majority very properly doubted the prudence of this plan, 
and it was decided to cherish the natural desire of indepen- 
dence in the poorest and youngest by requiring the payment 
of a penny monthly. It was also agreed that the volumes 
should be of small extent, that they might be returned once 
a month or oftener. The sum raised procured about eighty 
volumes, and a donation from the first mover of the plan 
added twenty or thirty more. The second week after the 
commencement there were above one hundred applicants, 
of whom about thirty were poor labourers or solitary females, 
and a larger number were under fourteen years of age. 
Numbers of them had not read two hours in succession for 
many years before. At the beginning of the second year 
the readers were allowed, at their own desire, to pay for six 
months at once, instead of a penny mouthly. Our corre- 
spondent relates the following anecdote, which illustrates 
the useful effect of such institutions upon those for whose 
benefit they are intended. 

In the following spring, whén the days were lengthened, 
one of the yeaders, an agricultural labourer, came with the 
beok he had been using, and declined to take another. He 
stated that, labouring at a distance for so many hours, he 
should not be able, durmg the summer, to indulge nis desire 
for more reading. On being asked if he thought his 
monthly penny had been well spent, his hard countenance 
assumed the air of one who had found a treasure as he 


[833.] 


replied,—** Had I paid you a shilling a week instead of 
a monthly penny, myself and family would have been 
gainers. During the winter months I and those like me 
got home and took dinner between four and five o'clock. 
Then an ilf-ordered house and a noisy family induced me 
and others to go out. If the weather was favourable, we 
stood to talk and spend an hour at the Cross; if otherwise, 
we went into a smithy for shelter, and often to the public- 
house, and, though I am not given to drink, yet we had 
to spend a little when there, and even a little frequently 
occurring is felt by a poor man. When I took home my 
first book from the library I was asked to read aloud, but 
objected because of the noisy children. After some time, 
the younger were put to sleep, and I began to read. Next 
morning, and every evening after, my house was clean and 
in order, the fireside trimmed, my meal waiting, the children 
in bed, or allowed to sit up on condition of listening as 
quietly as thei attentive mother. The book we obtained 
from the hbrary was Goldsmith's ‘ Animated Nature,’ and 
it has been highly interesting to us. And, Sir, apart from 
all we have learned by reading, to find, week after week, 
my own house the most comfortable, and my own family the 
happiest I ever saw, shows me that a poor man with his 
book in his hand may be as happy as the richest or most 
noble.” This man concluded with assuring our corre- 
spondent that he had heard from others statements similar 
to that which he had made for himself, 


MOUNT HECLA. 


SOME years ago, it was not uncommon for our sailors, 
on their way to Greenland and North America, to see a 
column of fire (whose base was a lofty peaked mountain) 
towering high in the air, and casting a ruddy glare over 
the dark, scormy seas for many a mile. This spectacle 
made a deep impression on the lively imagination of 
ignorant and superstitious seamen; who, returning to 
their homes, gave a naturally exaggerated description 
of what they had seen, and explained the phenomenon 
by assuming that 1t was produced by supernatural 
agency. ‘This column of fire proceeded from Mount 
Hecla, which is one of the numerous voleanos we have 
mentioned in our short description of the island of Ice- 
Jand. It is situated on the southern side of that island, 
at the distance of a few miles from the sea-coast; and, 
though neither so grand, as a mountain, nor so terrible, 
as the centre of volcanic action, as some of its neigh- 
bours, Hecla has been more celebrated than any of them, 
because, from its position, it has been more frequently 
seen by strangers, and because it has been more fre- 
quently in a state of eruption than any of the other 
volcanos. 

The height of Hecla from the level of the sea is 
between four aud five thousand feet. From some 
points of view its summit is seen divided into three 
peaks, of which the central peak is the loftiest and most 
acuminated : from other directions it seems to terminate 
in a single massy cone, like the volcano of Aitna. 

One of the most singular features of Hecla, as com- 
pared with other volcanos. is the remarkable manner in 
which immense heaps of lava that have flowed from the 
mountain during different eruptions are ranged round 
its base, so as to form a sort of rampart from forty to 
seventy feet high. All travellers have been struck by 
the continuity and bright, glazed appearance of these 
walls. Vou ‘Lroil calls them ‘* high glazed clitls,— 
lofty glazed walls,” not to be compared to anything’ he 
had ever before seen; and Dr. Henderson describes 
them as ‘‘ immense, rugged, vitrified walls,” going all 
round the base of the mountain. ‘To explain part of 
this appearance, it may be necessary to inform some of 
our readers that when lava passes from its liquid state 
and cools, it sometimes retains a shining, vitreous coat, 
not unlike elazed bricks, or some or the refuse thrown 
out of our elass-works. Beyond and above this immense 
rampart littie more lava occurs, the rest of the mountain 
being composed almost entirely of sand and slags. 

Iu 1772, the late Sir Joseph Banks, with Dr. Von 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. AQ5 
Troil, Dr. Solander, and other friends, ascended Mount 
Hecia. ‘The country for more than two lea@ues round 
it was wholly destitute of vegetation, the soil consisting 
of red and black cinders, scoriz, pumice-stone, and 
other volcanic results; whilst here and there it rose intc 
little hills and eminences, which were of ereater size in 
proportion to their vicinity to the base of the mountain. 
These eminences, which were hollow within, were craters 
through which the subterraneons fire had at different 
times found vent. The largest of them, calied Rand- 
Oldur, was described by Sir Joseph as a crater with an 
opening half a mile in circumference, and abont one 
hundred and forty feet deep, having its western side 
destroyed, what remained being composed entirely 
of ashes, cinders, and pieces of lava in various states. 
Near to this crater the party pitched their tents, in the 
midst of a scene of almost inconceivable horror and- 
desolation. 

When they continued their route, and came to the 
rampart already described as surrounding the base of 
Hecla, they experienced considerable difficulty in ¢limb- 
ing and crossing it, for they frequently found the lava 
lying in detached masses with deep holes between them. 
Having at length surmounted this difficulty, they found 
themselves on comparatively easy ground, and con. 
tinued their ascent on the western side. Soon, however, 
they were somewhat alarmed by hearing a continual 
cracking beneath their feet. On stooping to examine 
whence this proceeded, they discovered that the whole 
mountain was composed of loose materials, easily broken, 
of sand and pmnice-stone,-lying in horizontal strata, 
everywhere full of fissures. Still continuing their as- 
cent, they passed over a series of sloping terraces, and 
perceived that the sides of the mountain, from its summit 
to its base, were deeply scarred with ravines, formed 
originally by the descent of lava, but now serving as 
water-courses and beds for the winter torrents. 

It was meght when they gained the summit, and 
stood beside the great crater on a spot covered with ice 
and snow. ‘The snows are not, however, of the nature 
of glaciers, as, except such portions as lie in hollows and 
clefts, they generally melt in the course of the summer. 
The cold at this tine Gn the month of June) was exceed- 
ingly severe. Sir Joseph Banks says that he and _ his 
companions were covered with ice in such @ manner 
that their clothes were as stiff as buckram. The water 
they carried with them was all frozen. Here and there 
on the mountain-top they found great heat issning from 
the ground and melting the snow for a little space round 
its vent. One of these spaces was so hot from steam 
aud smoke that they could not remain on it; but they 
nowhere saw traces of the dangerous boos, the water- 
falls, the hot springs shooting in every direction, or thie 
devouring flames, which the natives had stated to exist. 

The silence and the solitude of the spot were awful. 
It was inidnight, but in that northern latitude as brig lit 
as day: the prospect was immense. To the east they 
saw a lone range of glaciers, beyond which the ancient 
volcano of Hoerdabreid presented its peak, which looked 
like a great castle; to the north were lofty hills and 
many lakes. The view, however, seems to have been 
the only very interesting thing they met with on the 
summit of Hecla. They descended on the western side 
by a very deep ravine, which, commencing at the top of 
the cone, and continiting to the very foot of the moun- 
tain, appears Clearly to have been the bed of a prodi- 
oious stream of lava, and was probably formed during 
the ernption of 1300, when, as Icelandic chroniclers 
relate, Mount [lecla was rent from top to bottom. Large 
masses of rock. as cast out by the crater, still hung over 
the edges of the ravine, and greater leaps of melted and 
burnt substances were found at the bottom of this sin- 
oular and immense chasm. 


When Sir G. 8. Mackenzie, Dr, Holland, and Mr. 


496 


Bright ascended this volcano in the summer of 1810, 
they found a much greater degree of heat proceeding 
from the mountain. Hot vapours issued from several 
yarts of the central peak, and the heat of the ground 
was 0 creat, that on removing a few of the slags from 
the cancel those a little below were too hot to ix! han- 
dled. On placing a thermometer amongst them, It rose 
to 144°. These gentlemen did not ascend by the west- 
ern but the southern side; they found the ascent tole- 
rably easy until they reached the upper and steepest 
part of the cone, which being covered with loose slags, 
they sometimes lost in one ‘step the ground they had 
eained by several. During the ascent the mountain was: 
for awhile enveloped in dense clouds, which prevented 
them from seeing the chasms in its’sides, and they en- 
countered some “danger by crossing a narrow ridge of 
slags that connected one of the lower: peaks with the 
hichest. This passage, during which they had a preci- 
pice on either side of them, they effected by balancing 
themselves like rope-dancers. ‘They found these supe-. 
rior craters very incompletely defined, their sides and 
lips being much shattered and broken away. 

The last ereat eruption of Mount Hecla was in 1766. 
It broke out suddenly, and was attended at its com- 
mencement by an earthquake. It lasted without inter- 
mission fromthe 13th of April to the 7th of September, 
and did immense damage. "The poor horses were so 
terrified, that they ran wildly about till they dropped 
down dead through fatigue. ‘The people living near the 
mountain - lost their cattle, which were either choked 
with the volcanic ashes or starved before they could be 
removed ‘to grass. A few lingered for a’ year, and on 
being - opened; the stomachs of these were found to be. 
loaded with ashes, . : : 


eee ro 
ST on ———S TE 
== 


=, Hp 


= Oi oy - 


= — a 


. ee ee 

= ae a 

———————— ed fe 7 

ae iy Pres os Eee ogee 
SES 


“ioe se 
é i 


yz) pyle \ 
y j ty Vy ae a 
4 fas y ; Lik Li oy . 


Li. x 


“fe Says s\ 
= ud \ 
San Oe Z Ss A 
. Bo SS SS 
~ = Oe 
S 


a wins > SS SS ss 


~~ Oe, 


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bits an ‘ YI ¥ 


4) 


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ty ' o¥e" > SE, naw IES al 


SERN Zr Mip nh 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Se ny 


Sar io/_ hip \ 
WN Le a a : 

\ H 
i a | ‘ 
a ‘vi \) 


nc af Lat hs I 
fest aa ce ty Bima 
I] tat Fy: 
he ‘ | ; wy 4 q 
T r¢ 


Ly a We WUNVAMNIA NY \ \ 
\: ie tanith Na ‘\ SAN \ \. \ 
es 7 = ao. 
Te Te a Atel ty Wade \ 
' ~~ Hy mas \ JAN \\ 
Ne De wit WAN ie . RK Tee 
‘ 


Be igh RED Bea 
= Sea oR Rae 





[DECEMBER 2], 1833. 


Other volcanoes in Iceland, though less frequently in 
action, have caused much greater mischige than Hecla. 
In 1755 one of these ‘hie out ashes that fell like rain 
on the Ferroe Islands, at the distance of more than three 
hundred miles. But the last great eruption (in 1783) 
was the most terrific of all thie. are recorded. ‘This pro- 
ceeded from the mountain of Skaptaa Jokul, and occa- 
sioned the desolation we have described in the first of 
these Icelandic sketches. ‘The reader must understand 
that the nine thousand human lives were not all directly 
destroyed by fire or by ashes, but by starvation, the con- 
sequence of the burning up of all vegetation on which 
the flocks and herds subsisted, and of the disappearance 
of fish from the coasts. At that unhappy season an 
enormous column of fire cast its olare over the entire 
island, and was seen, from all sidegl at sea, and at the 
distance of many leagues. Issuing forth with the fire, 
an immense quantity of brimstone, sand, pumice-stone, 
and ashes, were carried by the wind, and strewed over 
the devoted land. The continual smoke and steam 
darkened the sun, which in colour looked like blood. 
During the same summer the sun had a similar appear- 
ance in Great Britain, and.the same, ‘obscurity reigned 
in most parts of our island. Many parts: of. Holland, 
Germany, and other countries in the north of Enrope, 
were visited by brimstone vapours, -thick smoke, and 
light: grey ashes. Ships sailing between Copenhagen 
and Norway were covered with brimstone. ge nem that 
stuck to their sails, masts, and decks. 

The whole face of the island: has been Sed by 


“hese terrific convulsions, and Sir G. Mackenzie Thine 


he is safe in estimating that one continued-surface of 


sf, Sixty thousand square miles has been subjected to the 


force of subterraneous fire i in this part of the world. 


Mi Hikwsen dt 
i “i at 


Wes AU 
| a i is aN 


if 
g nf “i, nt a 
M . a AV Yay 


sath 


‘ NN Ope 
i; _ " ww iy te Yy 


Aa 
Yy 
4 a A 
Mi “i im m 


f { 
y/ iy 


TN 


{Mount Hecla.] 





*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES 


KNIGHT, 29, LUDGATE STREET, AND 13, PALL-MALL EAST. 


Printed by WILLIAM Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth,, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


111.] 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


fDecemBer 28, 1833. 





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QUINTIN MESSYS, OR MATSYS. 


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Tie Misers, at Windsor Castle: 


In the state apartments of Windso 


brated picture called 


‘The Misers, 


r Castle is the cele- 
by Quintin Matsys, 


the Blacksmith of Antwerp. 
arrests the attention of visitors. 
Vou. II, 


‘This picture ,invariably 
The brilliancy of the 


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} | i BERS ACKSON, BSACKSON 95; 





by Quintin Messys, or Matsys, 


colouring, the strong characteristic expression of the two 
old men, and the minute accuracy of all the objects by 
which they are surrounded, afford a pleasure which is 
sometimes not created at first by the productions of a 


498 


higher species of art, which demanid attentive examina- 
tion and some degree of knowledge. Everybody can 
judge of a painting which aspires only to be a faithful 
representation of some familiar scene. ‘The Misers’ 
are probably portraits of two money-changers or bankers 
of the days of the painter; who are amicably employed 
in counting over their coins and jewels—not with the 
careworn self-denial of the ‘ miser, but. with a joyous 


satisfaction, such as thriving citizens might ‘reasonably. 


feel. The spectator also takes a new interest in this 
painting, from the traditionary story connected with it, 


S ° e ° 
which we shall notice in the following brief memoir of 


the artist. 

The name of this Flemish painter is given in a great 
variety of forms by diferent authorities. In this country 
he is commonly called Matsys; he was born, it is be- 
lieved, at Antwerp, although some say at Louvain, in 1460. 
His history is romantic and ‘interesting. Al] the accounts 
agree that he was bred to the business of a blacksmith or 
farrier ; and hence he is often designated the Blacksmith 
of Antwerp. It is said that he followed this occupa- 
tion till he was twenty years of age, if not older. We 
then have different stories as to the circumstances con- 
nected with his relinquishment of the sledge-hammer 
and the anvil for more easily-wielded instruinents of 
design. We may observe, that an academy for the cul- 
tivation of painting, and the other fine arts, had been 
established in the city of Antwerp in 1454; and that it 
is recorded to have had the effect of awakening, through- 
out the Netherlands, a strong interest in these pursuits, 
According to one account, Messys showed a decided 
inclination and talent for design when a child, and would 
have chosen the profession of a painter if his father had 
permitted him, or had possessed the meats of procuring 
for him the requisite instruction. His strength was hardly 
equal to the severe labour of the business to which he 
was actually bred ; and at. last, it is said, his exertions 
brought on a dangerous illness. It is admitted, that 
either this or some other cause gave him reason to 
apprehend that he would not be able to gain his bread 
by the trade he had learned. In these circumstances he 
scarcely knew what to do, and gave way to considerabie 
despondency. But what seems a misfortune, and is felt 
as such at the time, is often frauglit with results which 
more than compensate for the temporary pain or incon- 
venience it occasions. In the hospital to which he was 
taken, Messys amused himself, during his convalescence, 
by sketching different objects in pencil. A friend, to 
whom he one day showed thesé attempts, was struck with 
something in them which seemed to him to indicate a 
genius for such performances; and, flattered and excited 
by this commendation, Messys renewed his efforts, and 
persevered tilt he gradually acquired facility and superior 
skill. Another account, which however does not seein 
to be inconsistent with this, makes him to have given 
the first public evidence of his ability in his new art; by 
the fabrication of a number of little figures in imitation 
of the rude wooden images which used to be distributed 
among the people by the members of one of the hos- 
pitals in Antwerp, as they walked in their annual pro- 
cession, ‘The figures which Messys produced were at 
once acknowledged by all to be far superior to any they 
had been accustomed to see; and the demand for them 
furnished him.with occupation for a short time. It was 
probably after this that he executed the iron-railing, or 
rather cage, over a well nedr the great church of 
Antwerp, which is still to be seen; and also an iron 
balustrade for the college of Louvain,—both works of 
great merit. But even these performances, exercises of 
ingenuity and fancy as they were, might still be con- 
sidered as not altogether beyond the range of: his 
orig inal employment. He had not yet abandoned work- 
Ing in iron; and therefore there may be truth in the 


storv which assigns a particular cause for his eventually | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[| DecEMBER 28, 


becoming a painter. A mutuai attachment, it is said, 
had grown up between the blacksmith and the dauchter 
of a painter of Antwerp, who was resolved, however, to 
bestow her upon a young man of his owh’profession. 
Messys determined to make an effort to place himself on 
a level with his rival in the point which had regulated 
the father’s preference; and the result was that: he pro- 
duced a picture, with which the father was so much 
struck, that he changed his intention, and made the 
lovers happy by at once consenting to their union. In 
allusion to this incident, some verses under a portrait of 
Messys, describe him as having been transforined by 
love from a Vulcan into an Apelles; but some writers 
have been disposed to contend that the verses in ques- 
tion, which were not written till about a century after 
the time of the painter, are probably the only foundation 
for the story. At the same time, it would seem difficult 
to account for the author of the verses having expressed 
himself in the manner he has done, had he not gone at 
least upon some tradition similar to that now mentioned. 

Be the origin, however, of his devotion to ‘art whiat 
it may, Messys became in time a very distinguished 
painter,—the most distinguished indeed which his country 
produced in that age. He painted numerous pictures, of 
the merits of some of which, several of the best critics, 
and among others Sir Joshua Reynolds, have spoken 
in terms of warm admiration. Sir Joshua: says that in 
his greatest performance, the Descent from thie Cross, 
there are heads that have not been excelled by Raphael. 
Messys never was in Italy, and it has been thought that 
his genius failed to develope itself in some respects as 
it might have done for want of this advantage. His 
manner is forcible, but somewhat hard and dry—a defect 
which might possibly have been removed, had he en- 
joyed an opportunity of studying the works of his great 
Italian contemporaries, in which truth of nature is so 
finely combined with, and irradiated by, the spirit of 
poetry and beauty. 

The picture of which our wood-cut is a copy has been 
always considered one of the most successful, as well as 
characteristic performances of this painter. 

‘Messys is also said to have been the artist who 
wrought the iron-work of the tomb of Edward IV. in 
the choir of St. George’s Cliapel at Windsor. He ap: 
pears in his own day to have been well known in Eng- 
land, and is spoken o with much admiration by Sir 
Thomas More in one of his Latin poems. He died in 
1529, and left a son named John, who followed the 
same profession, but never attained the excellence or 
the reputation of his father. 


THE EMIGRANTS, 


Wuenre the remote Bermudas ride 

In the Ocean’s bosom, unespyed, 

From a small boat that rowed along, 
The list’ning winds received their song: 


“What should we do, but sing Ilis praise 
That led us, through the watery maze, 
Unto an isle so long unkuown, 

And yet far kinder than our own ! 


Where He the huge sca-monsters racks, 
That lift the deep upon their backs ; 

He lands us on a grassy stage, 

Safe from the storms and prelates’ rage *, 


He gave us this eternal spring 
Which here enamels every thing, 
And sends the fowls to us, in care, 
On daily visits through the air. 


* The Emigrants whom the poet describes were dissenters from 
the Church of England, when the tolerant spint of later times had 
not been called into action, _ : 


-1833.] THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 499 


He hangs in shades the orange bright, 
Like golden lamps in a green night, 
And in these rocks for us did frame 
A temple where to sound His name. 
Oh! let our voice His praise exalt 
Till it arrive at Heaven's vault, 
Which then, perhaps, rebounding may 
Echo beyond the Mexique Bay.” 
Thus sung they in the English boat 
A holy and a cheerful note; 

And all the way, to guide their chime, 
With falling oars they kept the time. 


Anprew Marvexy, Died, 1678. 





MANUAL ALPHABETS. 


In laying before our readers a representation of the 
manual alphabets, respectively in use in this country and 
on the Continent—which we think may be of practical 
use to some, and not without interest to many—it seems 
desirable to explain what they are, to state the purposes 
to which they are applicable, and to give an account of 
their origin so -far as it can be ascertained. For the 
means of doing this we. are considerably indebted to the 
memoir of the Abbe de |'Epée in the ‘ Biographie Con- 
temporains, and to an article on the subject in a recent 
number of the ‘ Magasin Pittoresque.’ 

The pretensions cf the manual alphahets have been 
much misunderstood and frequently overstated. If we 
had not met with grave and eloquent essays, which give 
to dactylology (a name derived from the Greek, mean- 
ing finger-talking,) the power of conducting the dumb 
to the gradual attainment of speech, we should think 
it scarcely reqnisite to state that it is merely a substitute 
for, or rather, a mode of writing; with no other ad- 
vantage over the use of pen, ink, and paper, that we are 
aware of; than this—that the apparatus is always at 
hand, always ready for use. By the means of the 
manual alphabet all the words and phrases of conversa- 
tion can be expressed. - To learn it requires less than 
half an hour, and the practice of a few days makes the 
use of it easy and expeditious. With the following 
engraving before him, no person can find difficulty in 
teaching himself. 

In the one-hand alphabet the letters J and Z are 
firured in the air; J with the little finger, and Z with 
the index. In the other, the letter H is formed by 
dashing the palm of the right hand across that of the 
left. The other characters do not appear to need expla- 
nation. It is very unecessary to mark the points other- 
wise than by a proper pause tn the manual action. But 
it is requisite that the words should be separated, either 
by a very slight pause, by a horizontal motion of the 
hand from left to right, or by a sort of fillip with the 
finger and thumb of the right hand. 

On comparing the two alphabets, we find that the 
object of both is to represent, as nearly as possible, the 
usual forms of the letters—the double-handed alphabet 
imitating the capitals, and the other the small letters. 
The single exhibits an anxiety not to require the help of 
the left hand; and the other is unwilling to dispense 
with its assistance. ‘The single tortures the fingers, in 
order to screw them into some fancied resemblance to 
the written character; and we see that, after a lame 
attempt to form X with one hand, it admits another, 
formed with two, asa variety. ‘The other often chooses 
to do with two hands what one would do better; so, to 
match with the X in. the single alphabet, there is Q in 
this. A very good letter is formed with one hand, but 
a variety is introduced as if to show that it could be 
done with two. C and J remain the only letters which 
two hands could not be made to represent; and the 
former is the same in both alphabets. The highly 
anomalous and awkward variety of Z, seems to haye 


been devised for no other reason than to obtain a re- 
semblance to the written form. We are disposed to 
consider that, taking either one or both hands throughout, 
forms much more convenient and easy might be «e- 
vised if the object of resemblance were altogether re- 
linquished. But taking them as they stand, the cha- 
racters made with two hands are much more distinct, 
and more easy to form and decypher than the other. 
There is also this advantage in the two-handed alphabet, 
that it presents the only conceivable mode of communi- 
cating with the deaf in the dark; for the characters 
being formed by one hand upon the other, it is only 
necessary with the right hand to form the letters upon 
the left of the person addressed. We are informed by 
Mr. Watson of the Kent Road Asylum, that the pupils 
In that institution, who have sufficient knowledge of 
language to use the manual alphabet at all, can, in 
this manner, converse with great facility by night. 

Although the two-hand alphabet is much the besé 
known in England, our tmformation concerning thie 
other is far more distinct. The latter certainly came 
from Spain, where also the art of instructing the deaf 
and dumb seems to have originated. The subjects are, 
indeed, so much connected, that it would be useless to 
attempt to keep the consideration of them entirely 
separate. It is a vulgar mistake to assign a French 
origin to those useful arts. ‘The Abbé de l’Epée could 
well afford to spare the honour of the original discovery, 
if the assertion of an eloquent writer be true, that ‘* He 
is not the first discoverer of any art who first says the 
thing ; but he who says it so long, and so lond, and so 
clearly that he compels mankind to hear him*,” - Of 
the manual alphabets the Abbe certainly was not the 
inventor; and the impression that he was such may 
perhaps have arisen from the circumstance that his 
tomb-stone, in the cemetery of Pére la Chaise at Paris 
bears the figure cf an open hand. 

If it were not also ascertained that the art of instruct- 
ing the deaf and dumb originated in Spain, our know- 
ledve that manual alphabets were first known in that 
country wight have led to the supposition that they 
were originally designed for tle purposes of secret com- 
munication. But our better information allows us to 
assion to the iuvention a benevolent and useful object ; 
as it is known that this mode of communication eutered 
into the system by which the dumb were tanght: to 
speak, 

Father Ponce, a Benedistine monk of the monastery 
of Ona in Spain, who died in 1584, appears to have 
been the first who exercised the art of instructing this 
unfortunate class of beings; but we are unacquainted 
with his method. Don Juan Paolo Bonnet published, 
in 1620, a book in which he developed the principles by 
which he had been guided in the education of the con- 
stable of Castille, who had become deaf at four years of 
age 5 but who, under Bonnet’s instruction, learned to 
speak his native language with much distinctness. 
Bonnet was emulated—it’ is not clear we should say 
imitated—by Digby, Wallis and Burnett, in England ; 
Ramirez of Cortono; Petro de Castro of Mantua; 
Conrad Amman, a Swiss physician practising in Hol- 
land; Van Helmont, and many others. 

It appears strange that, notwithstanding this, the 
possibility of instructing the deaf and dumb seems 
to have been so little suspected in France, that Don 
Antonio Pareires, who settled in Paris about the year 
1735,- was encouraged by the general ignorance to 
claim the honour of the discovery for himself. He made 
a great mystery of the means he employed; but his 
claim was allowed by the Academy of Sciences. Some 
years after, another professor of the art, oue Ernaud, 
set up a rival claim, published a book, and solicited and 
obtained from the Academy the same honour which had 

* Edinburgh Review. 
a 35 2 


500 


been granted to Pareires. ' It seems that under all the 


systems of instruction previous to that of De l’Epde the 
pupils were considered to have attained perfection when 
they had been brought to pronounce with more or less 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DECEMBER 28, 


facility, and,: often with’ much pain and difficulty, ” 
certain number of phrases; and, in obtaining this result, 
the finger-alphabet was much employed by the teachers 
of the Spanish school. 





[The Double-handed Alphabet. ] 


The one-handed alphabet seems to be particularly 
distinguished as the manual alphabet of the Spaniards. 
It is said to have been introduced into France by 
Pareires, and the Abbé de lEpde is stated to have 
borrowed it from him, having only before known the 


two-handed alphabet. But another account, which, as 
the most authentic, we shall give, declares that the 
Abbé obtained a knowledge of the alphabet from a 
Spanish book, : 

On one of the days which the Abbé was in the habit 
of employing in the instruction of his pupils, a stranger 
came and offered to his acceptance a Spanish book, with 
the assurance that a knowledge of its contents would 


= fore y. c=) 
ae S % 


be of much service to him in his laudable undertaking. 
Being ignorant of the Spanish language, the Abbé at 
first declined the offered present; but having opened it 
at hazard, he perceived the manual alphabet of the Spa- 
niards, and then, turning to the title-page, he read the 
words—Arte para ensémar a hablar los mudos. ‘I 
had no difficulty,” says the Abbé, “ in divining that this 
sienified the art of teaching the dumb to speak ; and 
from that moment I determined to learn the laneuage, 
that I might be of service to my pupils.” 

From the schools of the Abbé the use of this alphabet 
extended to nearly all the institutions for the struction 


of the deaf and dumb on the Continent, and in the 


Pew 


1833.] 


United States.- The use of it is very limited in this 
country. 

Among themselves, the instructed deaf and dumb use 
almost exclusively the language of sig7s, and have re- 
course to the manual alphabet only for the expression of 
proper names, or of such technical words as have not 
yet been characterised by a specific sign. But in com- 
municating with those who are unacquainted with their 
system of signs, they habitually use the alphabet. In 
conversing thus with them it is not always necessary to 
form entire phrases. ‘The principal words suffice to fix 
the attention, and a natural gesture completes the 
thought. Yet it must be admitted-that, in the endeavour 
to catch ideas which are only partially expressed, they 
are often exposed to very curious and sometimes very 
provoking: mistakes. 

As all the deaf and dumb who have received the usual 
instruction are acquainted with the use of the manual 
alphabet, it seems almost incumbent on those who have 
any intercourse with such, or with others who cannot 
benefit by vocal communication, to acquire this useful 
and simple art. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section 21. 
COAL. 


Tue annual consumption of coals in Great Britain must 
be enormous; but there are no means of ascertaining 
the amount with anything approaching to accuracy, 
because no account, accessible to the public, is kept of 
by far the largest amount consumed. By the duties 
levied on coals carried coastwise, and by the returns to 
parliament laid before special committees, we obtain 
some correct data; but the amount stated in these is 
but a small part of the coal raised throughout Great 
Britain. In the evidence before the committees of the 
Lords and Commons, in 1829 and 1830, we have some 
calculations by two eminent civil engineers, Mr. Buddle 
and Mr.Taylor. Mr. Buddle says, ‘“ The calculation 
which I have made of the consumption of England and 
Wales is as follows: manufactories, 3,500,000 London 
chaldrons; household consumption, 5,500,000, making 
9,000,000 in all, consumed from inland collieries: the 
quantity sent coastwise, on both sides of the island, is 
3,000,000 ; together 12,000,000 chaldrons.” Asa Lon- 
don chaldron is nearly 27 cwt., that quantity is equal to 
‘about 16,200,000 tons weight. 

Mr. Taylor’s estimate of the consumption of coal in 
Great Britain is given in the following form :— 








The annual sale of coals carried coastwise, from Dur- ‘Tons. 
hamvand Northumberland, 18 ......cccccccccess 3,300,000 
Home consumption, say one-fifth ......eeeseeeesse 660,000 
Total 3,960,000 
Which quantity supphes about 5,000,000 persons ; and, 
supposing the whole population of Great Britain to 
be 15,000,000, this must be trebled ........... --. 11,880,000 
Consumed by iron-works, say 600,000 tons of metal, to 
produce which requires at least four times the quantity 
ef coal in making even pig-metal; and the extraor- 
dinary consumption in the mines of Cornwall, &c. 3,000,000 
(CGOnsemetGreat Britain .....ccceccesssvevece 18,840,000 
Exported to Ireland, say .....cecceceeccnvees gue 2 UUO00 
Total tons, exclusive of Foreign Exportation ........ 19,540,000 


Thus Mr. Buddle gives a larger amount for the con- 
sumption of England and Wales alone than Mr. Taylor 
does for the whole of Great Britain, and including a 
part of the consumption of Ireland. 

The export of coals from the Tyne and the Wear 
amounted, in 1828, to about 3,200,000 tons, and the 
consumption on the spot to about 660,000 tons. Thus 
the total annual sale of coals from the Newcastle and 
Durham coal-fields is probably not much under four 
millions of tons. 

So vast a consumption leads naturally to the inquiry, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


50} 


“what, at this rate of annual excavation, will be the 
probable duration of this coal-field?” This question 
occupied a great deal of the attention of the Com- 
mittees of both Houses of Parliament, already spoken 
of, and there was a very wide difference in the answers 
which they received. Mr. Taylor was asked by the Lords’ 
Committee if he had formed any calculation of the ex- 
tent, produce, and duration of the Durham and North- 
umberland coal-fields; and he replied, that he had 
endeavoured to do so, and gave in the following: state- 
ment; which he said, however, was only to be considered 
as an approximation. 

He estimates the Durham coal-field, south of the Tyne, sq. miles. 








tOsermarmce al area Of” . . scale... essssescsveok 594 
The Northumberland Ficld .....csccceessccccscecce 243 
837 
And he considers that of this there had been excavated 105 
Leaving, in 1829 732 
Then estimating the workable coal strata at an aver- 
> age thickness of 12 fect, the contents of one square Tons. 
mile will be 12,390,000 tons, and of 732 square 
oa ares lus oe »e ee 9,069,480,000 
And deducting one-third part for loss in working, and 
from disturbances in the strata ..... eg 3,073,160,000 
There remain 6,046,320,000 


This very comfortable and consolatory view of our 
own condition, and of that of our distant posterity, as 
regards this valuable commodity, is, however, a good 
deal disturbed. by the opinions of Dr. Buckland and 
Mr. Sedgwick, the professors of geology at Oxford 
and Cambridge. Dr. Buckland being asked whether 
he considered the estimate of Mr. Taylor correct, an- 
swered that he thought it much exaggerated. Mr. 
Sedgwick is also of opinion that Mr. Taylor’s estimate 
Is too great; and both professors state the same reasons 
for differing’ so widely from the views of Mr. Taylor. 
He has assumed that there is a continuous thickness 
of twelve feet of workable coal over the whole area 
of 732 square miles; but all experience, both of this 
coal-field and of every other, is unfavourable to tls as- 
sumption, for not only are the coal-seams extremely vari- 
able in thickness, but they are equally so in quality, as 
we have already shown. ‘The opinions of the learned 
professors are confirmed by another scientific observer, 
Mr. Bakewell, who, in his ‘ Introduction to Geology,’ 
discusses this question, and calculates that the coal-field 
now under consideration will not last above 360 years. 
All these calculations, however, have reference only to 
the best qualities of coal,—to those which can be raised 
at an expense sufficiently low to enable them to be sold at 
a remunerating’ price, in competition with other coals. 

It appears to be very clearly made out that all those 
parts of the country which are now supplied with fuel from 
the Northumberland and Durhain mines will continue 
to enjoy that advantage for the next 400 years; and 
those who are uot so selfish and unpatriotic as to be in- 
different to the fate of their posterity after the year 2233, 
will learn with satisfaction that as far as England’s 
prosperity is connected with an abundant supply of coal, 
there is no danger of its sustaining any check for a much 
more extended period, as there is a store in reserve far 
ereater than there was in the whole of the north of Eng- 
land field before a single fire was hehted by its produce. 
This extensive repository ts in the coal-field of South Wales. 

The geographical position of this vast deposit of the 
coal-measures will be seen by the annexed Map. It 
lies in a great basin of the carboniferous limestone (O. 
diagram in No. 51, 19th January), which rises from 
uuder the coal strata nearly all around the limit of the 
coal-field. Ina part of Pembrokeshire, the limestone is 
wanting, and the coal strata rest upon slate (Q) which is 
inferior to the limestone, ands; near Narbeth, they are in 
contact with the old red sandstone (P) which lies between 


‘502 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[DEcEMRER 28, 


the slate and the limestone. Ina part of the southern j strata of posterior formation to them, and therefore lying 
boundary in Glamorganshire, the coal-measures are | upon them, viz., new red sandstone (K), and lias lime- 





separated from the limestone by a detached deposit of | stone (1. f-)- 




















BAY 





A, A, A. 
B, B, ’ B. 


i 
= NGF C AMIS Wistestihicen 
eS OUND All AUT I TN (atte jE LW 
se rec ees RT Se 


t CARMARTHEN p 


oo 


. The coal-field, tinted with horizontal lines. 
B Limestone, tinted with lines sloping to the right. 
C,C. Slate, tinted with perpendicular lines. 


















: SN 
WS 


Sas 








- -__. _ fo: 






f 
{ 






it 


\ 
\ 
ie 


AS 
VOe ~ — 









— 


if 


C- Be 
See = ) 
=f SS NS 
a So Poe bS 
Boi . 
——————_ o 
- —S =< ‘ 





D. Old red sandstone, tinted with dotted lines. 
E. New red sandstone, tinted with perpendicular waving lines, 


1. St. David’s, 3. Cardigan. 5. Milford. 


2. Fisgard. 4, Lanbedr, 


The coal-measures do not he horizontally within this 
limestone basin, but in a trough shape, being deepest 
towards the middle, and rising up towards the outer 
limits, the ends of the several strata cropping out, as 
the miners term it, that is, appearing successively at the 
surface. They do not, however, form one uniform 


sweep or inverted arch; for there has been a partial up- 
heaving of the strata, so that a section across the field 
from Bridgend, due north, would present the following 
appearance :— 





There are thus two basins, the one [ying to the north, 
the other to the south of a high ridge @, which runs 
from Aberavon, half a mile north of the Avon, by Cefn 
Eeglwysillan, two or three miles north of Caerphilly, a 
little beyond which it disappears. In the northern basin, 
which is by far the most extensive, the strata are much 
less inclined than in the southern basin; for in the 
former the dip of the stratais generally under 10°, 
while in the latter it is often 45° and upwards. he 
whole coal-field is traversed by dikes or faults, eenerally 
in a north and south direction, which throw all the 
strata from 300 to 600 feet up or down. The nature of 
these faults we have explained in Section 16. On the 
western termination of the basin, in St. Bride’s Bay, the 
strata exhibit the most extraordinary marks of confusion 
and derangement, being vertical and twisted in every 
possible direction. 

The extent of this coal-field, and the thickness of the 
seams, have been variously stated by different authors ; 
but the estimate which is perhaps the most to be relied 
upon, is that of the Rev. William Conybeare, the emi- 
nent geologist, who has long resided in the country, and 
Is perfectly familiar with its geology. It is- contained 
in a letter addressed by him to Henry Warburton, Esq., 
M.P. published in the Report of the Committee of the 
House of Commons, already often referred to. Mr. Co- 
nybeare makes three creat divisions of the coal-seams ; 


6. Haverfordwest. 


9, Llantrissent. , 
10. Cardiff. 


7. Carmarthen. 
8.: Neath. 


the lower, middle, and upper series, and he assigns to 
them, respectively, the average thickness of thirty-five, 
fifteen, and ten feet, making altogether sixty feet of work- 
able coal. Martin, who described this coal-field, makes 
them amount to ninety-five feet; and Mr. Conybeare 
thinks that Martin does not overstate the amount, 
provided all the seams be taken into the account. Buit 
Mr. Conybeare’s calculation only includes the workable 
coals, and he considers that those seams cannot be worked 
with profit where it is necessary to go lower than 200 
fathoms, or 1200 feet, for beyond this the expense of 
drainage, &c., becomes enormons, Keeping the same 
considerations in view, Mir. Conybeare makes the follow- 
ing estimate of the area occupied by the coal-seams :— 


For the Lower Series, 525 square miles, at 35 feet thick. 


> me oo 2 oe ow o 
Middle Series, 360 as LD as 
Upper Series, 64 . se nm” .. 


This, it is calculated, aftec deduetine one half for loss 
wnd for what has been already worked, will amount to 
about 11,428,750,000 tons; and taking the annnal 
consumption of all England at 15,000,000 of tous, the 
provision of good coal in the South Wales Basin is 
sufficient for 760 years. Taking all that remains in the 
Northnmberland and Durham coal-fields, and all the 
other coal fields of England together at three times that 
amount, and which we are inclined to think wonld not 
be an over-estimate, we have a supply of good coal, 
which, at the present rate of consumption, would last 
above 3000 years: how long beyond that time the in- 
ferior seams will yield a supply of fuel, we shall leave 
posterity to calculate. 

We have hitherto spcken only of the coal-fields of 
England, and have taken no notice of the large deposits 
which exist in Scotland. These, although very pro- 
ductive, are contined to a very limited space. Nearly 
all the valuable mines are in the Low Country, between 
the Highlands on the north and the range of slate 
mountains which run in a north-east and south-west 
direction across the island, in the south of Scotland. 
The capital is very abundantly supplied with excellent 
qualities of coal brought from a distance of only a few 


> 
iniles, and delivered in Edinburgh at from nine to twelve 








1833.] 


shillings per ton. G\asgow is surrounded with collieries, 
and is supplied at even a cheaper rate than the capital ; 
and to this profusion of fuel not only Glasgow but 
Paisley, and the neighbouring great manufacturing towns 
owe, na great degree, their origin and prosperity. The 
mines in the counties of Fife and Clackmannan also pro- 
duce very fine qualities of coal. 

The coal formation of Scotland is found in the county 
of Antrim, on the opposite coast of Ireland ; and the two 
were probably at one time continuous, for there are not 
only indications of the coal-measures in the intermediate 
islands, but there are many other circumstances con- 
nected with the geology of the two countries, which 
almost amount to decisive proof that Ireland and Scot- 
land were at one time united. The collieries of Bally- 
castle, on the north coast of Antrim, were formerly 
considerable, sending from ten to fifteen thousand tous 
to market yearly; but they are now greatly fallen off. 
A very extraordinary discovery was made at these col- 
lieries about the year 1770: the miners unexpectedly 
discovered a passage cut through the rock, which was 
very narrow, owing to incrustations formed on its sides; 
but, on beine sufficiently widened; some workmen went 
through it, and found that it led to a gallery which had 
been driven forward many hundred yards into the bed of 
coal. It branched out into thirty-six chambers, where 
the coal had been worked out in a regular manner, 
pillars being left at proper intervals to support the roof. 
Some remains of the tools, and even of the baskets, used 
in the works were discovered, but in such a decayed 
state that, on being touched, they fell to pieces. There 
does not exist the most remote tradition of such a work. 
in the country ; and its great antiquity is proved by the 
sparry incrustations on the sides and pillars of the mine, 
for, in such a situation, a very lone period would pro- 
bably elapse before these would be deposited. (See 
‘ Hamilton’s Letters on Antrim.’) In the eastern part 
of the county of Tyrone, at Coal Island and Dungannon, 
a coal-formation occtirs associated with that variety of 
limestone which is usually found underlying or alternat- 
Ing with the coal-measures in Scotland and England. 

But coal has been discovered in ereater or less quan- 
tity in seventeen counties of Ireland. ‘The coal district 
of the province of Munster, according to Mr. Richard 
Griffith, an experienced geologist and practical engineer, 
is greater in extent than any in Eneland, and probably 
contains, he says, almost inexhaustible beds of coal. It 
extends over a part of the county of Clare, over a con- 
siderable portion of the counties of Limerick and Kerry, 
and a large part of the county of Cork. But none of 
the coal-beds of this province, with the exception of 
those in the county of Clare, belong to the same ceo- 
logical period as the coal-fields of England and Scotland: 
in place of lying above the carboniferous limestone (O. 
diagram in No. 51, 19th of January), they lie under it, 
and are interstratified with the old slate rocks (A), the 
lowest in the whole series of the secondary strata. The 
quality of the coal too is quite different from either the 
Enelish or Scotch coal, being that variety called 
anthracite, which burns without flame, and approachies 
to the nature of charcoal. It is chiefly used for burning 
the limestone of the adjoining districts; andthe most con- 
siderable collieries, those of Dromagh, have yielded 25,000 
tons per annum, at from ten to fifteen shillings per ton. 
The district of Clare belongs to the true coal-measures 
(M), but they are chiefly the shales, sandstones and 
sandy slates, coal being of very rare occurrence, as far 
as discoveries have yet been made, and when found, it is 
of very indifferent quality. Mr. Griffith is of opinion that 
coal of a bituminous quality is very extengively distri- 
buted over the eastern part of the province of Connaught, 

particularly-in the counties of Leitrim and Roscommon ; 
but. little is as yet known with respect to the number 


and thickness of the seams, or the facility of working | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


503 


them. In the province of Ulster, besides the collierieg 
in the counties of Antrim and Tyrone already mentioned 
coal has been met with in the counties of Penniiach. 
Monaghan, and Cavan, but not to any oreat sara’ 
The province of Leinster contains the true conl-imeasures 
lyin@ above the carboniferous limestone, in the county 
of Carlow, and in Queen’s county, and in the county of 
Kilkenny, from whence it stretches some way into the 
county of Tipperary. The creat deposits are around 
Castlecomer in Kilkenny, and Killenaule in Tipperary, 
and both these have been extensively worked; but ac- 
cording to Mr. Weaver, in his account of the Killenaule 
district, the coal, not only of that field, but that of the 
other portions of the Leinster coal-tract, is wholly of the 
nature of anthracite, and of a thin stratified structure. 
Coal is found in many parts of the continent of 
Europe. One of the most considerable deposits is that 
of Belgium, where, in the province of Lieve, the coal- 
formation extends from Thon near Namur to the con- 
fines of the province of Limbure, alone the Meuse for 
thirty-three miles, and with a breadth of about eight 
miles. Continuing in a north-east direction from Liege, 
we find another coal-field between Aix-la-Chapeile and 
Dusseldorf, the principal collieries being in the neigh- 
bourhood of Eschweiler. The coal is of excellent quality, 
and is extensively worked.” Farther on, in the same 
direction, we come upon a very extensive coal-field in the 
valley of the river Ruhr in Westphalia. It is above 
thirty-five miles in length and seventeen in breadth, 
and the measures contain above one hundred and sixty 
different seams of coal, varying in thickness from six 
inches to seven feet, of which about eighty are worked. 
Coal has been found in many other parts of Germany, 
particularly in Saxony, Bohemia, and Upper Silesia; 
and in those places it is almost invariably surrounded 
by manufactories. It has been found in more than 
thirty departments of France, but has been comparatively 
little worked. Coal is also abundant in the United States 
of North America. On she eastern side of the Appalachian 
system of mountains, the coal-formations are found 
only in the northern States ; but, on the western slope, 
there is every reason to suppose that it exists over the 
greater part of the eountry between the Central Moun- 
tains and the Mississippi. The most celebrated mines 
at present worked are those near Pittsburg, in Penn- 
sylvania. | 


THE ICHNEUMON, 


Tue animal, which forms the subject of this article, 
was held in high respect by the ancient Egyptians, 
to whom it appeared to represent a benevolent power 
incessantly employed in the destruction of the reptiles, 
always annoying and often dangerous, with which 
warm and humid climates abound. ‘To the destruc- 
tion of such animals, the ichneumon seems incited by 
his instincts and destined by his means; but it is not 
by actual attack, but by the destruction of their eges, 
that he represses the numbers of such creatures as 
the crocodile, the larger serpents, and the great lizard. 
The ichneumon, from its smallness, has not even the 
power to overcome his enemy the tupiramhis, an 
animal of habits very similar to his own; he is, more- 
over, not a very carnivorous animal, and his great 
timidity prevents him from capturing any animal capable 
of opposing a positive resistance. Impelled by necessity, 
and directed by much prudence, he is seen towards 
evening to elide between the inequalities of the ground, 
watching the least appearance, and fixing Ins attention 
on whatever strikes his senses, with the wew of re- 
connoitering any danger, or of discovering prey; but 
where there is the least appearance of hazard he will 
nealect the calls of appetite | 
Besides eggs, the food of the ichneumon is chiefly 


504 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [DecempBer 28, 1833. 


rats, small serpents, and birds. During the inundation 
he approaches the villages and devastates the poultry- 
yards; but being thus brought into contact with the fox 
and the jackall, he often becomes their prey. Like the 
pole-cat, he destroys all in the poultry-yard to which he 
pains access, or all the young which he can surprise 
at a distance from their mothers. But above all other 
food he searches for exgs, of which he is very fond, and 
it is thus that the ichneumon is so fatal an enemy to the 
crocodile; for it is no more true that he introduces him- 
self iuto the mouth of that animal when asleep, than that 
he attacks it when awake. ) 

The ichneummon exercises much perseverance in obtain- 
ine his prey. He is seen to remain for hours in the 
same place, watching for the animal he has seen there, 
and which he endeavours to obtain. ‘This quality makes 
him a valuable substitute for the cat, in cleaning a house 
of the parasitical little animals that infest it, and he is 
for this reason domesticated. He is much attached, in a 
domestie state, to the house he’ inhabits, and remains 


f 


——— ee eee 


affectionate and ‘submissive to those who have brought | 


him up. He does not ramble, and has no temptation 
to return to his wild state; but, when lost, he seeks the 
persons he has often.scen, whose voices he recognizes, 
and whose caresses he loves. But this gentle creature 
loses. much of his mildness when he eats. He then 
seeks out some secret retreat and manifests great choler 
if he sees any cause to fear being deprived of his prey. 
When. he penetrates to a place which is unknown to 
him, he immediately explores it in every part, chiefly by 
his sense of smell, which’ of all his organs seems the 


most active and delicate, on which he appears to rely the’ 


most, aud which seems in some measure to compensate 
for the feebleness of the others: for his sight, his taste, 


~ 


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and his feeling do not present anything remarkable, 
only his external ear has a great breadth and extent of 
orifice. 

The ichneumon is of a brown colour, speckled with 
dirty white,—that is to say, that each hair has brown 
and white rings. The hairs are very short and the rings 
very small upon the head and the extremity of the 
members, which gives to these parts a deeper tint than 
the others. ‘The white rings are larger, and the hairs 
are longer upon the back and the tail. Upon the flanks 
and under the belly the hairs become still longer, and 
the tint'is paler than on the other parts. ~ The tail is 
terminated by a tuft of very long black hairs, which 
contrast strongly with the fawn-brown of the rest of the 
body. The hair of the ichneumon is more thick, dry, 
and weak than in any other animal of the same genera. 
The length of the body, from the ears to the root of the 
tail, is one foot; the length of the head, from'the back 
of the ears to the muzzle, is about three inches and a 
half; the length of the tail is one foot four inches; and 
the heieht of the most elevated part of the back is seven 


ae 


ry 


. Naturalists have been Jong acquainted with the 
ichneumon, but rather, by character than figure. Figures 
were given by Belon, Gesner, Aldrovatde and others, 
but they did not sufficiently distinguish the ichneumon 
from other animals of the same genera. Even Buffon 
mistook the Mangouste for it, to which he has applied 
all the descriptions concerning the ichneumon, 

This animal has not yet a well-determined name in 
the methodical catalogues, different naturalists continuing 
to call it by different names. The name ichneumon, 
which is Greek, was first employed by Herodotus, and 


of . 


is indicative of the habits of the animal. - 





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[The Stanhope Press. | 


T’Hose who have examined the early history of printing 
will scarcely have failed to see how the ordinary laws of 
demand and supply have regulated the progress of this 
art, whose productions might, at first sight, appear to 
form an exception to other productions required by the 
necessities of mankind. There can be little doubt, we 
think, that when several ingenious men were, at the 
same moment, applying their skill to the discovery or 
perfection of a rapid mode of multiplying copies ol 
books, there was a demand for books which could not 
well be supplied by the existing process of writing. 
That demand had doubtless been created by the auxiety 
to think for themselves, which had sprung up amongst 
the laity of Catholic Hurope. ‘There was a very general 
desire amongst the wealthier classes to obtain a know- 
ledge of the principles of their religion from the fountain- 
head,—the Bible. The desire could not be gratified 
except atan enormous cost. Printing was at last dis- 
covered ; and Bibles were produced without limitation 
of number. ‘The instant, therefore, that the demand for 


demand, by increasing it in every direction; and when 
it was found that not only Bibles but many other books 
of real value, such as copies of the ancient classics, could 
be produced with a facility eqnal to the wants of every 
purchaser, books at once became a large branch of com- 
merce, and the presses of the first printers never lacked 
employment. The purchasers of books, however, in the 
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, were almost wholly 
confined to the class of nobles, and those of the richer 
citizens and scholars by profession. It was a very long 
time before the influence of the press had produced any 
direct effect upon the habits of the great mass of the 
people. In our own country, the many hundreds cf 
pamphlets of political and religious controversy that were 
issued during the times of the civil wars, were unknown 
to the larger portion of those who took sides in the 
quarrel. ‘They were directed to the important body of 
landed proprietors, and the no less important leaders of 
the people in towns ; and they were formed to influence, 
as they were in great part produced by, the active 


Bibles could be supplied, the supply acted upon the spirits, whether of the church, the bar, or the senate. 


Vou, It. 


3.7 


506 


who were the most prominent directors of public opinion. 
It was not till the system of periodical literature was 
fairly established, and that newspapers first, and ma- 
gazines and reviews subsequently, had taken hold of the 
popular mind, that the productions of the press could be 
said to be in demand amongst the people generally. Up 
to our own times that demand has been limited to very 
narrow bounds; and the circumstances by which it has 
been extended are as remarkable as those which ac- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[DEcEMBER 31, 


knowledge thus created, and daily gathering strength 
amongst the bulk of the people, could not be adéquately 
supplied twenty years avo by the mechanical inventious 
then employed in the art of printing. Exactly in the 
same way as the demand for knowledge which began to 
agitate men’s minds, about the middle of the fifteenth 
century, produced the invention of printing, so the great 
extension of the demand in England, at the beginning 
of the nineteenth century, produced those mechanical] 


companied the progress of the original invention of | improvements which have created a new era in the 


printing. The same principle of demand going before 
supply, and the same re-action of supply upon demand, 
will be found to have marked the operations of the print- 
ing press in this country, during the last five and twenty 
years, as distinctly as they marked them throughout 
Europe in the latter part of the fifteenth century and 
the beginning of the sixteenth. We will shortly re- 
capitulate these circumstances. 

A few years after the commencement of the present 
century, a system of education, which is now known 
throughout Europe as that of mutual instruction, was 
introduced into this country. In whatever mode this 
system was called into action, its first experiments soon 
demonstrated that, through it, education might be 
bestowed at a much cheaper rate than had ever before 
been considered practicable. ‘This success encouraged 
the friends of education to exertions quite unexampled ; 
and the British and Foreign School Society, and the 
National Society, had, in a very few years, taught some 
thousands of children to read and write, who, without 
the new arrangements which had been brought into 
practice, would in great part have remained completely 
untaught. A demand for books of a liew class was thus 
preparing on every side. ‘The demand would not be 
very sudden or very urgent; but it would still exist, and 
would become stronger and stronger till a supply was 
in some degree provided for it. It would act, too, indi- 
rectly but surely upon that portion of society whose 
demand for knowledge had already been in part supplied. 
The principle of educating the humblest in the scale of 
society would necessarily give an impulse to the educa- 
tion of the class immediately above them. The impulse 
would indeed be least felt by the large establishments for 
education at the other end of the scale; and thus, whilst 
the children of the peasant and the tradesman would 
learn many valuable lessons through the influence of a 
desire for knowledge for its own sake, and of love for 
their instructors, the boys of many of our great public 
schools would long remain acquiring only a knowledge 
of words and not of things, and influenced chiefly by a 
degrading fear of brutal punishment. The demand for 


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typographical art. 

In the ‘ Ancient view of a Dutch Printing-office,’ 
given at the head of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ No. 107, 
the most rudely constructed of the early printing-presses 
is there shown. It will be seen that this instrument is 
nothing more than a common screw-press,—such as a 
cheese-press or a napkin-press,—with a contrivance for 
running the form of types under the screw after the form 
is inked. It is evident that this mode of obtaining an 
impression must have been very laborious and very slow. 
As the screw must have come down upoii the types with 
a dead pull,—that is, as the table upon which the types 
were placed was solid and unyielding,—great care must 
have been required to prevent the pressure being so hard 
as to injure the face of the letters. These defects were 
at last remedied by an ingenious Dutch mechanic, Willem 
Jansen Blaew, who carried on the business of a mathe- 
matical-instrument maker at Amsterdam; in which 
business he had received instruction and encouragement 
from the great Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahe. The 
improvements in Blaew’s presse’ do not require to be 
particularly described. It may bé sufficient to mention 
that the head of the press in which the sctew worked, 
as well as the bed upon which the table containing the 
form of types rested, were yielding ; and that the screw 
consisted of three or four worms, according to the size 
of the cylinder. In this way the presstite war rapidly 
communicated froin the screw to the types; and the 
sprig above and below gave a sharpness to the impres- 
sion, while it prevented it being too hard. Blaew’s 
presses gridually drove out the miore ancient press ; 
but even as recently as the yeat 19770, Luckombe, in 
his ‘ History of Printiig’ then ptiblished, says, “ There 
are two sorts of presses iti use, the old and the new 
fashioned ; the old sort till of late years were the only 
presses used in England.” We subjoin a representation 
of Blaew’s “ new-fashioned ” press, with Which at the 
beginning of the present century all the printing of 
Europe was performed. : 

The stereotype improvements of Lord Stanhope, 
which we have already deseribed, and the printing-press 


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1833.] 


invented by that nobleman, which bears his name, 
offered the first great practical improvements in the art 
of printing, with the exception of Blaew's press, that 
had been called into operation during a period of 350 
years. The Stanhope press is represented in the wood- 
cut at the head of this number. It is unnecessary for 
us minutely to describe this very ingenious instrument. 
It is as superior to Blaew’s wooden press as that was 
to the rude press that preceded it. Being composed 
entirely of iron, the surfaces brought into contact 
when the impression is given are perfectly level; and 
the combination of levers which give motion to the 
screw diminish the labour of the workman, while they 
add to its efficiency. ‘his invention undoubtedly en- 
abled printing of a better average quality to be produced ; 
but it added very slightly to the speed with which im- 
pressions could be thrown off Both at the Stanhope 
press and at the wooden press the same general rate 
of work was maintained, namely, 250 impressions on 
one side of a sheet per hour, to be produced by the 
joint labours of two men, one inking the types, the other 
laying on the sheet and giving the pressure. 

While the mechanical power of the printing-press had 
remained for so many years pretty much the same as 
upon the first introduction of the art, the mode in which 
the ink was applied to the types had been quite un- 
changed for three centuries and a half. In the ‘ View 
of a Dutch Printing-office ’ it will be seen that the maa 
at the second press is putting the ink on the types with 
two circular cushions, one of which he holds in each 
hand. ‘These cushions, technically called balls, were 
universally used in printing twenty years ago. As the 
ancient weaver was expected to make his own loom, so, 
even within these few years, the division of labour was so 
imperfectly applied to printing that the pressman was 
expected to make his own balls. A very rude and 
nasty process this was. ‘The sheepskins, called pelts, 
were prepared in the printing-office, where the wool 
with which they were stuffed was also carded; and 
these balls, thus manufactured by a man whose geueral 
work was entirely of a different nature, required the 
expenditure of at least half an hour’s labour every day 
in a very disagreeable operation, by which they were 
kept soft. ‘The quantity of ink wasted by these balls 
was enormous; so much so, that we have heard an 
ink-maker—who, like many other unthinking people, 
conceived that the waste of an article is an encourage- 
ment to production—lament that if he sold more ink in 
consequence of the extended demand for ink created by 
the printing machine, his trade was to the same extent 
injured by the diminution of the waste that attended the 
old operations of the printing-press. ‘The printer’s balls 
have now been superseded, and their waste of material 
and time got rid of, by an invention applicable not only 
to printing by machinery, but printing by hand. 

Such was the state of the press departinent of printing, 
not only in England, but throughout the world, till the 
year 1814. As several approaches had been made before 
the time of Faust to the principle of printing books from 
moveable types, so the principle of producing impressions 
from a cylinder, and of inking the types by a roller, which 
are the great principles of the printing machine, had 
been discovered in this country as early as the year L790. 
In that year Mr. William Nicholson took out a patent 
for certain improvements in printing, the specification of 
which clearly shows that to him belongs the first sug- 
gestion of printing from cylinders. But this inventor, 
like many other ingenious men, was led astray by a part 
of his project, which was highly difficult, if not im- 
practicable, to the neglect of that portion of his plan 
which, since his time, has been brought ito the most 
perfect operation. Nicholson’s patent was never acted 
upon, ‘The first maker of a printing machine was Mr. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


907 


paper printed by cylinders, and by steam, was the 
‘Times’ newspaper of the 28th Novemher, 1814. The 
machine thus for the first time brought into action, was 
that of Mr. Koenig. 

Before we proceed to a description of the printing 
machine, or take a view of its general effects upon the 
diffusion of knowledge, let us imagine a state of things 
in which the demand for works of large numbers should 
have gone on increasing, while the mechanical means 
of supplying that demand had remained stationary—had 
remained as they were at the beginning of the present 
century. Before the invention of stereotyping it was 
necessary to print off considerable impressions of the few 
books mm general demand, such as bibles and prayer- 
books, that the cost of composition might be so far 
divided as to allow the book to be sold cheap: with 
several school-books, also, it was not uncommon to go 
to press with an edition of 10,000 copies. ‘Two men, 
working eight hours a-day each, would produce 1000 
perfect impressions (impressions on each side) of a 
sheet per day; and thus if a book consisted of twenty 
sheets, (the size of an ordinary school-book,) one press 
would produce the twenty sheets In 200 days. Ifa 
printer, therefore, were engaged in the production of 
such a school-book, who could only devote one press to 
the operation, it would require very nearly three- 
quarters of a year to complete 10,000 copies of that 
work. It is thus evident, that if the work were to be 
published on a given day, it must begin to be printed at 
least three-quarters of a year before it could be pub- 
lished; and that there must be a considerable outlay of 
capital in paper and in printing for a long time before 
any return could be expected. ‘This advance of capital 
would have a necessary influence on the price of the 
book, in addition to the difference of the cost of working 
by hand as compared with working by machinery ; and 
there probably the inconvenience of the tedious progress 
we have described would stop. 

But take a case which would allow no time for this 
long preparation. ‘Take a daily newspaper, for instance, 
of which great part of the news must be collected, and 
written, and printed within twenty-four hours. Before 
the application of machinery to the printing of news- 
papers, in 1814, there were as many daily London 
newspapers as at present; but their average size was 
much smaller than those now published. ‘The number 
of each paper printed was less than at present; and the 
later news was much more incompletely given. The 
mechanical difficulties of printing a large number within 
a limited time required to be overcome by arrangements 
which involved considerable expense; and thus less 
capital was left to be expended upon that branch of the 
outlay by which the excellence of a newspaper is mainly 
determined,—namely, the novelty, the completeness, and 
the accuracy of its intelligence. Let us take, for ex- 
ample, the ‘'Times’ newspaper for some years prior to 
1814, when it began to be printed by machinery. When 
that paper was originally established, somewhere about 
forty years ago, the present system of reporting speeches 
in parliament on the same night that they were spoken 
was scarcely ever attempted. A few lines mentioniug 
the subject of the debate, and the names of the principal 
speakers, were sometimes given; but anything like a 
sketch of the general debate, or a report of any remark- 
able speech, was deferred to a future day, if it were 
published at all. Mr. William Woodfall, the son of the 
celebrated printer of the ‘ Public Advertiser, in which 
the letters of Junius first appeared, undertook, without 
any assistance, the arduous task of reporting the debates 
of both Houses of Parliament, day by day, in his father’s 
paper, and afterwards in other daily journals. ‘This 
person possessed a most extraordinary memory, as well 
as wonderful powers of literary labour.: It is asserted 


Koenig, a native of Saxony; and the first sheet of | that he has been known to sit. through a long debate of 


3 7) 3 


208 


the House, of Commons, not making a single note of the | an hour. 


proceedings, * and afterwards to write ame a full and 
faithful account of what had taken: place, extending to 
sixteen columns, without allowing himself an. ‘interval of 
rest *, The reinarkable exer tions of this most famous of 
reporters gave the newspapers for which he wrote a 
celebrity’ which: compelled other © newspapers to aim at 
the ‘same fullness. and ‘freshness in their parliamentary 
reports.” What “Woodfail. accomplished ‘ by excessive 
bodily. and ‘méntal exertion, -his contemporaries sne- 
ceeded in brinzing to a higher degree of perfection by 
the division of labour ; ‘and thus in time each morning 
newspaper had secured the assistance of an efficient 
body of reporters, edch of whom might in turn take 
notes of a debate,’ and commit “a portion of it to the 
press several hours before the whole debate was con- 
cluded. Perfect’ as these arrangements had become. at 
the beginning of the’ present century, it is manifest: that 
during: ‘the session of :Parliament at least, when news- 
papers are’most interesting, their circulation must have 
been’ necessarily limited: by the mechanical difficulties 
of their production. We must explain this a little more 
iu detail. « A newspaper, being made up of many 
distinct peices does not require, as a book. does, that 
the whole of the types of which it is composed should 
be set up before one side of it is printed off. The outer 
side of a daily paper, which ordinarily consists of adver- 
tisements, communications, and paragraphs of minor 
importance, may be printed off some honrs before the 
inner side, which contains the later news, is reacly to be 
printed. Such an arrangement of course would prevent 
the whole paper being filled with.the Jatest news, as is 
now frequently the case ; and thus all the papers printed 
before the invention of the machine wiil be found to be 
constructed with reference to this principle of having 
one half printed long before the other half was ready to 
be printed. But let us see how that half, which con- 
tained the last intelligence, was brought out previously to 
1814." If we refer to such a paper containing a report 
of any great parliamentary debate, we shall find the 
speeches venerally given of a length not proportioned 
to their importance, but to the time of the evening 
in which they were delivered. Those reporters to 
whose share the earliest speeches fell gave them fully, 
because there was time for printing them; and this 
fullness left little space for the more important speeches 
which at that period generally closed the debate. ‘The 
quality of reporting was therefore injured by the bre- 
vity required for all speeches delivered after midnight. 
Without this sacrifice the paper could nof have been pub- 
iished at all on the day whose date it bore; and even 
with this sacrifice the difficulty of meeting the demand 
was excessive. - The only mode in which it could be met 
was by setting up a portion of the paper in duplicate,— 
that is, setting up*two sets of types, so that two presses 
might be engaged in printing it off at the. same time. 
Sometimes i in large papers, such as the ‘ Times,’ a page 
only was worked ‘at one press, to enable the pressmen to 
proceed with great speed. If the House of Commons 
now sits to four o ‘clock, and the ‘ Times, or the ‘ Chro- 
nicle” or the ‘ Herald,’ cannot be ready for printing off 
till six o’clock at the earliest, the papers are nevertheless 


published, so that the country and the town may be sup-- 
In such a case, before 


pled without intermission. 
the introduction of the printing machine, the morning 
coaches would have departed without a paper, and the 
people of London would have received thein at the 
hour of dinner instead of that of breakfast. The print- 
ing press, as we have mentioned, will, at the ordinary 
rate, enable two men to take off two hundred and 
fifty impressions in an hour, By the most violent ex- 
ertions the pressmen of a daily newspaper were enabled, 
with relays, to work off about five hundred copies in 
* € Nichols’s Literary Anecdotes,’ vol. i., p. 303. 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[ DEcEeMBER 3], 


One press would therefore produce ten thou- 
sand copies in about twenty honrs. It is manifest 
that such a rate of speed, if such a quantity were de- 
manded,-would be incompatible with the production of a 
daily paper, the condition of whose existence is that it 
must be wholly printed. and issued in four and twenty 
hours. det us double the speed by printing in duplicate ; 
and we find that ten thousand copies can be produced in 
about ten hours. But even this rate carries the publica- 
tion of several thousands of the ten thousand printed 
into the next afternoon. We may, therefore, assume 
that :without triphcates, which we believe were never 
resorted to, no daily paper previous to 1514 conld aim 
at the sale of a greater number of copies than could be 
printed off even with duplicates in six hours—of which 
number the, publication would often not be complete till 
afier mid-day. ‘The number printed of the most popular 
daily paper, would therefore be limited to five thousand ; 
and this number could not be produced in time without 
the most perfect division of labour aiding the most intense 
qpamtion, provided that paper , were printed by hand. 
The ‘Times’ newspaper 11ow produces teu thousand 
copies in two hours and a half, from one set of types. 

If the difficulties that existed in producing any con- 
siderable number of newspapers before the invention of 
the printing machine were almost insurmountable, 
equally striking will the advantages of that invention 
appear when we consider its application to such a 
work as the ‘ Penny Magazine. Let us suppose 
that the instruction of the people had gone on un- 
interruptedly in the schools of mutual instruction, and 
that the mechanical means for supplying the demand 
for knowledge thus created had sustained no improve- 
ment. In this series of papers we have endeavoured 
constantly to show that the price at which a book can 
be sold depends in great part upon the number printed 
of that book. But at the same time it must be borne 
in mind, that the number of any particular work thus 
produced must be limited by the mechanical means of 
production. If the demand for knowledge had led to 
the establishment of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ before the 
invention of the printing machine, it is probable that the 
sale of twenty thousand copies would have been consi- 
dered the utmost that could have been calculated upon. 
This invention has forced on other departments of 
printing, and larger presses have therefore been con- 
structed to compete in some degree with the capacity of 
the machine for printing a large form of types. Twenty 
years ago there probably was no press in England largre 
enough to work off a double number of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine. One thousand perfect copies, therefore, 
could only have been daily produced at one press by the 
labour of two men. The machine produces sixteen 
thonsand copies. Jf the demand for the ‘Penny Maga- 
zine, printed thns slowly by the press, had reachied 
twenty thousand, it would have required two presses to 
produce that twenty thousand in the same time, namely, 
ten days, in which we now produce one hundred and 
sixty thousand by the machine; and it would have re- 
quired one press to be at work one hundred and sixty 
days, or sixteen presses for ten days, to effect the same 
results as the machine now effects in ten days. But, in 
point of fact, such a sale could never have been reached 
under the old system of press-work. The hand-labour, 
as compared with the machine, would have added at 
least forty per ceut. to the cost of production, even if the 
sixteen presses could have been set in motion. Without 
stereotyping, no attempt would have been made to set 
them in motion; for the cost of re-engraving wood-cuts, 
and of re-composing the types, wonld have put a natural] 
commercial limit to the operation. With stereotypes, 
the numbers printed would have been limited by the 
tine required for the production of the stereotype-plates ; 
In the same way as the number of a newspaper worked 


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[Applegath and Cowper’s Printing Machine. ] 


APPARATUS FOR GIVING Motion To THE 
Macutne.—A. The Rigger, a wheel revolvin 
upon a shaft which is turned by the Steam En- 
gine.—B. An endless strap for transmitting the 
motion of the rigger, A, to the machine.—C. 
The * Dead” and “ Live Riggers,” two whee.s, 
the former one moving freely ou its axis with- 
out connexion with any part of the machine, 
and upon which the endless: strap is slipped 
when it is desirable to stop it; and the other 
(the outer one) turning on a spindle, which 
passes horizontally beneath the bed of the 
machine, and anit carries two small ‘cogged 
wheels for communicating the motion of the 
strap to all parts of the machine. The first of 
these, called the driving pinion, lies immediately 
alongside the dead rigger, and, by turning the 
first great cogged wheel, puts the whole of the 
printing cylinders, drums, &c.,in motion. The 
second, called the upright bevilled wheel, is 
borne on the end of the pinion, and is situated 
midway under the bed of the machine ;—this 
bevilled wheel, through the intervention of an 
horizontal bevilled wheel, a sliding rack, and 
come other contrivances, gives to the bed nr 
table of the machine upon which the type 
rests. a hortzontel motion backwards and for- 
wards. 


APPARATUS FOR InkING.—D. The Ink- 
ing Table. This is supplied with ink by a 
vibrating roller, which, as it rises, touches 
another roller called the Ductor, thickly co- 
vered with ink from the reservoir, against 
which it is placed, and, as it touches it, Carries 
off Ly contact a portion of the viscid ink along 
its whole length; it then descends, and for a 
moment slightly pressing itself upon the end 
of the table, leaves on it a portion of the ink 
which it had previously taken froin the doctor. 
This ink is then spread over the surface of 
the table by three inking rollers, and after- 
wards taken from it and distributed over tiie 


face of the type by two or three other roliers. 


APPARATUS FoR Printine.—E. The 
Web Roller—F. The Smoothing Roller, — 
G. The Entering Drum.—H,. The First Im- 
pression Cylinder.—I. K. The First snd Se- 
cond Paper Drums.—L, The Second Impres- 
gion Cylindepeenn A sheet of white paper 
placed ly the “laying on-boy” on whar is 
called the web, From this, by a contrivance 
which could not be shown in the engraving, 
the sheet is caught and carried under the 
smoothing roller, F, where it is closely bound 


“=s! to the entering drum, G, by five endless tapes, 


which then conduct it smoothly and accurately 


eet through the following operations. It is car- 


‘Tied round the entering druin and delivered to 
the first impression cylinder, H, where, in 
passing under it, it receives on one side, by a 
Polling pressure, the impression of the first 
forms of type; it is then carried by the tapes 
lover the second, and under the third paper 
‘drums, I and K, to the second impression 
cylinder, L, where itis“ perfected,” or printed 
On the remaining blank side, and thrown ont 
to the “ taking-of-boy,” who sits waiting to 
Yeceive it, and whose hand is shown under K 


510 


by hand is limited, as we have seen, by certain natural 
obstacles, which could not be passed with profit to those 
concerned in the production. At any rate the difference 
in the cost of printing by machinery and printing by 
hand would either have doubled the price of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ or in the same proportion diminished its size 
and its quality. Under those circumstances a sale of 
twenty thousand would have been a large sale. The 
saving of labour and the saving of time by the printing 
machine enable, in a great degree, this little work to be 
published at its present cost, and to be delivered, without 
any limitation to its supply, at regular periodical intervals 
throughout the United Kingdom, Without this inven- 
tion a demand beyond the power of a press or two to 
meet would have become embarrassing. The work 
would have been perpetually out of print, as a failure 
in the supply of a book is termed. If. extraordinary 
efforts had been made to prevent this, great expeuses 
would have been created by the irregular exertion. ‘he 
commercial difficulties of attempting a supply beyond 
the ordinary power of the mechanical means employed 
would have been insurmountable—the demand could 
not have been met. 

Having thus explained the general advantages of the 
printing machine for meeting the demand which now 
exists for books of large numbers, we will conduct our 
readers to Mr. Clowes’s printing establishment, where 
there are more printing machines at work than at any 
other office in the world. It may be convenient, how- 
ever, first to refer to the engraving of the sort of printing 
machine there principally employed, with the description 
of its several parts. 

The visitor to Mr. Clowes’s office will be conducted 
into a room in which there are ten machines generally 
in full work. In an opposite room are six similar 
machines. ‘The power which sets these in motion is 
supplied by two steam-engines. Upon entering the 
machine-room the stranger will naturally feel distracted 
by the din of so many wheels and cylinders in aétion ; 
and if his imagination should present to him a picture of 
the effects which such instruments are producing, and 
will produce, upon the condition of mankind, it may 
require some effort of the mind to understand the mode 
in which any particular machine does its work. ‘ Let us 
begin with one on which the ‘ Penny Magazine’ Is pre- 
paring to be printed off. One man, and sometimes two 
men, are engaged in what is technically called making 
ready ; and this with stereotype plates is a tedious and 
delicate operation, ‘The plates are secured upon wooden 
blocks by which they are raised to the height of inove- 
able types; but then, with every care in casting, and in 
the subsequent turning’ operation, tliese plates, unhke 
moveable types, do not present a perfectly plane surface. 
There are hollow parts which must be brought up by 
careful adjustment ; and this is effected by placing pieces 
of thin paper under any point where the impression is faint. 
This process often occupies six or seven hours, particularly 
where there are casts from wood-cuts. Let us suppose 
it completed. Upon the solid steel table at each end of 
the machine le the eight pages which print one side of 
the sheet. At the top of the machine, where the laying- 
on boy stands, is a heap of wet paper. The visitor will 
have seen the process of wetting previously to entering 
the machine-room. Each quire of paper is dipped two 
or three times, according to its thickness, in a trough of 
water; and being opened Is subjected, first to moderate 
pressure, and afterwards to the action of a powerful 
press, till the moisture is equally diffused through the 
whole heap. If the paper were not wetted, the ink, 
which is a composition of oil and lamp-black, would lie 
upon the surface and smear. ‘To return to the machine. 
The signal being given by the director of the work, the 
laying-on boy tums a small handle, and the moving 
power of the strap connected with the engine is imme- 
diately communicated. Some terror twenty spoiled sheets 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[DECEMBER 34, 


are first passed over the types to remove any dirt or 
moisture. If the director is satisfied, the boy begins to 
lay on the white paper. He places the sheet upon a flat 
table before him, with its edge ready to be seized by the 
apparatus for conveying it upon the drum. At the first 
movement of the great wheel, the inking apparatus at 
each end has been set in motion. The steel cylinder 
attached to the reservoir of ink has begun slowly to 
move,—the ‘ doctor’ has risen to touch that cylinder for 
au instant, and thus receive a supply of ink,—the inking- 
table has passed under the ‘ doctor ’ and carried off that 
supply,—and the distributing-rollers have spread it 
equally over the surface of the table. This surface 
having passed under the inking-rollers, communicates 
the supply to them ; and they in turn impart it to the 
form which is to be printed. All these beautiful opera- 
tions are accomplished in the sixteenth part of a minute, 
by the travelling backward and forward of the carriage or 
table upon which the form rests. Each roller revolves upon 
an axis which is fixed. At the moment when the form 
at the back of the machine is passing under the inking- 
roller, the sheet, which tlie boy has carefully laid upon the 
table before ,him, is caught in the web-roller and con- 


| veyed to the endless bands or tapes which pass it over 


the first impression cylinder. It is here seized tightly 
by the bands, which fall between the pages and on the 
outer margin, The moment after the sheet is seized upon 
the first cylinder, the form passes under that cylinder, 
and the paper being brought in contact with it receives 
an impression on one side. ‘To give the impression on 
the other side the sheet is to be turned over; and this 
is effected by the two drums in the centre of the machine. 
The endless tapes never lose their grasp of the sheet, 
although they allow it to be reversed. While the im- 
pression has been given by the first cylinder, the second 
form of types at the other end of the table has been 
inked, ‘he drums have conveyed the sheet during this 
inking upon the second cylinder ; it is brought in contact 
with the types; and the operation is complete. 

The machine which we have thus imperfectly de- 
scribed is a most important improvement of Koenig's 
original invention. ‘That, like most first attempts, was 
extremely complicated. It possessed sixty wheels. Ap- 
plegath and Cowper’s machine has sixteen only. ‘The 
inking apparatus of this machine is by far the most com- 
plete and economical that ever was invented. Nothing 
can be more perfect than the distribution of the ink, 
and its application to the types. It has therefore entirely 
superseded Koenig’s machine: and as the patent has ex- 
pired, its use is rapidly extending, not only in England, 
but throughout Europe. Our limits will not permit us 
to attempt any description of the other machines which 
are employed in London. The most remarkable are the 
two now used by the ‘ Times’ newspaper, eaeh of which 
produces four thousand impressions per hour on one 
side of a sheet. ‘These machines are modifications of 
Applegath’s and Cowper’s; and the additional speed is 
gained by having the sheets laid on at four different 
points instead of at one, and by employing four printing 
cylinders to press in succession upon one form. ‘The 
hand machine of Napier, which is a most ingenious in- 
vention, is in use in several London offices. — 

When a newspaper is printed off, it is at once removed 
from the machine or the press to the publisher’s counter, — 
and then sold wet to the distributors. It is important 
that the ‘ Penny Magazine’ should be delivered dry, 
especially those numbers which are made up into parts. 
A. printer’s warehouse, from which books are issued ir 
large quantities, is a scene of great activity. The drying — 
process is now a tolerably rapid one, by the conveyance 
of steam or hot air through the drying rooms. The 
sheets are here hung upon poles, and in a few hours 
acquire the necessary hardness. ‘hey are next counted 
into quires; and if time permits, the quires are made 
perfectly smooth and compact by heavy pressure. ‘The 





1833. ] 


hydraulic press, which is one of the most nseful inven- 
tions of the late Mr. Joseph Bramah, has in most 
printer’s warehouses superseded tlie use of the common 
screw press. 

Oitir account of the processes which unite for the pro- 
duction of a ‘ Penny Magazine’ would be imperfect did 
we not notice the business of the Book-binder. The fold- 
ing and sewing of the weekly numbers and monthly 
parts whieh we issue furnish employment to a great 
nuniber of persons, principally women. ‘The sheets are 
delivered by the printer to various master book-binders, 
in whose workshops they are made up into numbers, or 
parts, or volumes. The growing demand for partieular 
works, of whieh jarge quantities are issued, has given 


a remarkable impulse to the book-binding business of 


the metropolis, ‘That business a few years baek was 
chiefly divided amonesst three classes ;—those who bonnd 
books elegantly in leather,—an art which cannot be 
carried to perfeetion withont great division of labour, 
and by whieh division the fine book-binding of London 
is still unrivalled ;—those who were engaged in the 
commoner binding of school-books and eheap Bibles ;— 
and those who devoted themselves to the rapid folding 
and sewing of magazines, and other periodieal works. 
But within the last seven years the introduetion of the 
cheap aud yet neat and substantial binding in eloth, 
which was first attempted by Mr. Piekering, of Chancery 
Lane, has created a new branch of business, of equal 
importance to any of the previously existing branehes. 
By this new process that cheapness is obtained which 
results from the performing any particular speeies of 
work upon a large seale instead of in detail; and that 
expedition whieh is a consequence of the minute division 
of labour whieh belongs to all considerable operations. 
Take the present volume of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ as 
an example. During the last tliree or four months, 
12,000 copies of each number (the quantity required 
for the first issue of the volume) will have been de- 
livered to two book-binders. Eaeh of these binders, at 
periods when his work-peopie are not very busily em- 
ployed, will have gone on folding each number as he 
snecessively received it. In addition to the folding, he 
will have subjected parcels of each sheet to the aetion 
of a rolling machine, by which the sheets are tightly 
squeezed, so that the volume may be solid and flat 


iit 
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[Book-binder's Rolling Machine. ] 


when placed within its eovers. This solidity and flat- 
ness used to be attained by beating the books with a 
laree hammer,—a very laborions and very tedious opera- 
tiou, which materially increased the cost of book-bind- 
ing, and degraded a very pretty art to a most toilsome 
task of neavy iabour and little skill in one of its processes. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Dlt 


The book-binders, however, have clung to the practice 
with great pertinacity, chiefly, perhaps, from its lone 
existence amongst them. In the following eopy of an 
aneient print the book-binder is seen hanimering away, 
as many book-binders still hammer. 


Zs 


f 


O, coo 
fe LYSIS 
rR ie rs a8 
me 
Se : by 


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Wa 


PAY 


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8 SEH) eh OF We” 


‘aloe ieee id 


RYE SA AL Pra! Age At 


[Ancient Book-binder., ] 


The ‘ Penny Magazine’ is, however, spared the infliction 
of these thumps; of whieli the effect in newly-printed 
books is, in most cases, to render them perfeetly illegible, 
by transferring the ink of one page to the opposite. The 
pressure of the rolling machine can be much better 
adjusted to the state of the sheets. 

While each number of the ‘Petiny Magazine’ has 
thus been folded and made flat, the eovers for the 
volumes have been at the same time preparing. The 
cloth has been attached to the boards; and the gold 
lettering has been impressed upon the back by a toul 
fixed in a stamping-press, whieh tool, being hollow, is 
heated from within side, like the Italian-iron of the 
laundress. At the time when this number is printing, 
the book-binders will have completed all these prepara- 
tions for the issue of the volume: The moment that 
they receive this—the last sheet—from the printer, 
every exertion will be made to perfect the work which 
has been so long in progress. In less than an hour the 
requisite number of the sheet will be folded. Many 
women will be engaged in sewing the sheets together ; 
and, as fast as they are sewed, the book-binders will be 
employed in cntting the edges, glueing the back; and 
fixing the volume in its linen cover. Some honrs will 
be required for the perfect drying of the elue and paste ; 
and the eomplete volume will again be subjeeted to the 
action of a powerful press. But, on the Ist of January, 
12,000 coptes of this volume will have been distributed 
throughout the kingdom. The final process of its bind- 
ing will have oceupied five or six days. Ten years ago 
the operation would have employed nearly as many 
months. 





a 





*,* The Office of the Soctety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledve is nt 
99, Liucoln’s-Inn Fieids. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 99, LUDGATE STREET, 
AND 13, PALL-MALL AST, 





Printed by Wittram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


#ok 
I 


l Tree LeopaRrD AT BAY, page l. 

2 Elgin Marbles :—-Metopes, 4. 

3 Do.-East side of the Frieze of 
the Parthenon, 4. 

4 Do. North side of the Frieze of 
do., 4. 

5 Statue of the Maid of Orleans at 

Rouen, 8. 

6 Statue of the Dying Gladiator, 9. 

7 The Bat, 12: 

8 Flying Squirrel, 12. 

9 Flying Fish, 12. 

10 Ursine Baboon, 12. 

ll Plan of the Battle of Corunna, 16. 

12 Cartoon of Paul preaching at 
Athens, 17. 

13 Diagram, showing the Order of 
succession of the different 
layersof Rocks which compose 
the crust of the Earth, 21. 

14 Portrait of Lord Bacon, 24. 

15 Church of St. Martin of Cologne, 
25, 

I6 Teeth of the Fossil Iguanodon 

| and the Guana, 28, 

17 Quagga, 29. 

18 Portrait of Mozart, 32. 

19 West Front of York Minster, 33. 

20 Interior of the Choir of York 
Minster, 36. 

21 Tree-Frog, 37. 

22 Nest of the Golden-crested Wren, 
37. 

23 Suspension Bridge over the River 
Aire, near Leeds, 40, 

24 Statue of Niobe, 41. 

25 Portrait of an Italian exhibiting 
in London, 44. 

26 Child preserved by a Dog, 43. 

27 Portrait of Mary Queen of Scots, 
48 


28 Indian Jugglers exhibiting tamed 
Snakes, 49 

29 Fishing Temple on the Lake at 
Virginia Water, 52. 


30 Dry Arch under the road to 


Blacknest, at ditto, 53. 

31 Portrait of Lady Jane Grey, 56. 

32 Dover Castle from the Beach 
under Shakspeare’s Cliff, 57. 

83 Diagram 1, Vertical Sections of 
the Strata of Mountains, 59, 

34 Diagram 2, do., 59. 

35 Globe Theatre, Bankside, 60. 

36 Bamboo, 61. 

37 Portrait of Galileo, 64. 

38 Principal Front of the Cathedral 
of Nétre Dame, 65. 

39 View of the Castle of Ehrenbreit- 
stein from the Rhine, 68. 

40 Hottentot Herdsman, from an 
Original drawing taken from 
the life, 69. 

4] Portrait ef Handel, 72. 

42 Front of the Mint from Tower 
Hill, 73. 

43 Cartoon of the Death of Ananias, 
76. 

44 Ontline and Skeleton of the 
Venus de Medici, 80. 

45 Outline and Skeleton of a Female 
deformed by tight lacing, 80. 

46 Birds of Paradise, 81. 

/ a of Kenilworth Castle, 
= 

43 Diagram No. 4, illustratlve of 
the position of the Strata of 
the Earth, 86. 

49 Do. No. 5. do., 87. 

o0 Portrait of Lord Somers, 88. 

31 Hotel de Ville of Brussels, 89. 

52 on Frout of Chelsea Hospital, 


o3 Portrait of Tasso, 96. 

04 West Front of Lichfield Cathe- 
dral, 97. 

59 Polar Bears and Seal, 100. 

56 wae" of Archbishop Cranmer, 

of Cathedral of Aix-la-Chapelle, 105. 

38 er Statue of Charlemagne, 

De 

59 Eskimaux harnessing their Dogs 
to a Sledge, 109, 

60 SealofAlfric, Earl of Mercia, 112. 

61 The Jupiter of Phidias, as re- 
stored by M. Quatremére de 
Qulney, 113, + 

62 Supposed Method of plating co- 


lossal Statues wit ; 
63 Do. 113. atues with aoe? 


64 Do., 115, 

69 Arabian Camel, 116, 

66 Leaf, Flower, and Fruit of the 
Cacao, with a Pod opened, 120, 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


67 Colosseum in Regent’s Park,121. 
6S Cartoon of the Sacrifice at Lys- 
tra, 125. : 
69 Figures of the Pepper Brand or 
Smut Ballin Wheat, 128, 
70 Beavers, with their Huts, and a 
Dam, 129. 
71 West Front of Lincoln Cathedral 
132. 
72 Great Chestnut Tree of Mount 
7Etna, 136. 
73 Ruins of Netley Abbey, 137. 
74 Lion springing from covert, 140. 
79 Camphor Tree, 144. 
76 Edinburgh Castle, 145. 
77 Milking of the Rein-Deer, 148, 
78 Portrait of Defoe, 152. 
79 Richmond Castle, from 
River Swale, 153. 
80 Diagram 6, Illustrative of the 
Strata of Rocks in England, 
154. 
81 The Orang-Ontang. From a 
Sketch of a live Specimen, 
156. 
82 The Gate of Mycene, 160. 
83 Entrance of the Tunnel at Edge 
Hill, 161. 
84 Moorish Arch, 164. 
$5 Olive Mount Excavation, 165. 
86 Locomotive Engine, and part of 
a train of first class carriages, 
166. 
87 Sankey Viaduct, 168. 
88 Bridge of the Euripus, 169. 
89 Cartoon of St. Peter curing the 
Cripple, 172. 
90 West Front of Peterborough 
Cathedral, 177. 
91 The Smut or Dust Brand in 
Barley, 180. 
92 Do. do. in Oats, 18I. 
93 Do. do. in Wheat, 181. 
94 The Condor. From a living 
specimen, 18. 
95 North Front of Southampton 
Gate, 185. 
96 Source of the Air, 189. 
97 Portrait of Linnus, 192. 
98 Group of Toucans, 193, 
9) North-West View of Durham 
Cathorral, 196. 
100 Italian Wolf-Dogs, 200. — 
101 Harpooning the Whale ip the 
Arctic Seas, 201. 
102 Carcass ofthe Whale, 202. 
103 Skeleton of the Whale, 202. 
104 Harpoon, 204. 
105 Lance, 204. 
106 Dangers of the Whale Fishery, 
From a painting in 


208. 

107 The Dodo. 
the British Museum, 209. 

108 Battle Abbey, Sussex, 212, 

109 Gateway at Battle Abbey, Sus- 
sex, 213. 

110 Cingalese Book, 216. 

lll Distant View of Adam’s Peak, 
from Fort Colombo Roads, 

217: 

1]2 Cartoon of the Miraculous 
Draught of Fishes, 220. 

113 West Front of Temple Bar, 224. 

114 View of the Peter Botte moun- 
tain in the Mauritius, 225. 

115 Magna Charta Island, 228, 

116 Copy of the Seal of King John 
to his agreement with the 
Barons, 229, , 

117 Fac-simile of the writing of 
Magna Charta, 229, 

118 North-West View of Salisbury 
Cathedral, 233. 


the 


119 Telescopic appearance of the @ 


Moon, 236. 
120 Map of the Moon, 2387. 


121 Revolution of the Moon, Dia- 


gram 1, 237. 

122 Do. Diagram 2, 237. 

123 Horses treading out Corn, 240. 

124 South-east view of Melrose 
Abbey, 241. 

125 Ammounite, or Cornu Ammonis, 
244, 

126 Sectlon of ditto, 244. 

127 Trilobites, 244. 

128 Lily Encrinite, 245. 

129 Vlew of the Town of Egripos in 
Eubea, from the Sea, 248. 

130 St. George’s Chapel, Windsor 
Choir; 249. 

1381 Windsor Castle. Round Tower 
and South Front, 252. 

132 Do. Great Quadrangle, 252. 

133 Do, North Front & Terrace, 253. 


134 St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. 
South Front, 253. 

135 Talipot Palms in different stages 
of growth, 257. 

136 Cartoon of Elymas struck with 
Blindness, 261. 

137 Diagram 1, relating to Lunar 
Motion, 263. 

133 Do., 2, do., 263. 

i> Do., 3, do., 200. 

140 Do., 4, do., 264. 

141 Bass Rock, 265. 

142 West Front of Bath Abbey- 
Church, 268. 

143 Columbus and the Egg, 272. 

144 Castalian Fountain, 273. 

145 Tintern Abbey, 276. 

146 Pelicans, from Specimens in 
the Zoological Gardens, 280. 

147 View of the North Side of the 
Church of St. Maclou, 281. 

148 View in Atgina, withthe Temple 
of Jupiter Panhellenus, 284. 

149 Secretary Bird, 288. ~ 

150 ne hp Suspension Bridge, 
289. 

151 Dean Bridge, Edinburgh, 293. 

152 Bridge over the South Esk at 
Montrose, 294. 

153 Bridge over the Dee at Aber- 
deen, 294, 

154 Bridge over the Don at Aber- 
deen, 295. 

155 Bridge over the Spey at Locha- 
bers, 295. 

156 Approaches to do., 296. 

157 Elgin Gas Works and Bishop- 
mill Bridge over the Lossie, 
296. 

158 River Eurotas, 297. 

159 Grain Worms, Table A, 300. 

160 Grain Worms, Table B, 301. 

161 City of Carlisle, 304. 

162 Maccaroni Seller of Naples, 305. 

163 Observatory at Greenwich, 308, 

164 Ground Plan of an Egyptian 
Egg-Oven, 312. 

165 Transverse section and perspec- 
tive elevation of an Egyptian 
Eegg-oven, 312. . 

166 Egyptian Egg-oven, 312. 

167 West Front of Strasburg Cathe- 
dral, 313. 

168 City of York, 316. 

169 Common Hemp — Canabis ga» 
tiva, 320. 

170 Upas Tree, 322. 

171 Process of Weaving by the Cin- 
galese, 325, 

172 a used by the Cingalese, 

Y 


173 Monument of Edward the Black 
Prince in Canterbury Cathe- 
dral, 328. 

174 Neapolitan Calesso, 329. 

175 North-west View of the Cathe- 
dral at Winchester, 333. 

176 ane of a Caravan in the Desert, 
336. 

177 Acropolis, 337. 

178 Statue of Sir Joseph Banks, 340. 

179 Monument, 344. 

130 St. eee Church at Vienna, 
345. 

181 Skeleton to Icthyosaurus Com. 
munis, restored by Mr. Cony- 
beare, 348. 

182 Skeleton of ,the Plesiosaurus 
Dolichodeirus, in the position 
in which it was fonnd at Lyme 
Regis, 348. 

183 Skeleton of the Plesiosaurus 
Dolichodeirus, restored by Mr. 
Conybeare, 349, 

184 Effects of the Fata Morgana, 
352, 

185 View of St. Peter’s from the 
East, above the Bridge of St. 
Angelo, 354. 

186 Burrowing-Owls and Prairie 
Dogs, 397. 

187 Design for the Fountain of the 
Elephant at Paris, 300. 

188 Cachemire Goats, 361. 

189 Natural Bridges of Icononzo, 
364. 

190 City of Rochester, 368. 

191 Tantallon Castle, with the Bass 
Rock in the distance, 369. 

192 Principal Front of the Univer- 
sity of London, 372. 

193 Cassowaries, 376. 

194 Paper-Making by hand, 377. 

195 Washing-Engine, 380. 


‘196 Paper-making Machine, 381. 


END OF VOLUME THE SECOND. _ 


197 Paper-cutting Machine, 384. 

198 ‘Trajan’s Column at Rome, 385, 

i99 Principal Entrance and Interior 
of Rochester Cathedral, 388. 

200 Wild Tarkeys, 392. ; 

201 Basaltic Rocks and Cascade of 
Regla, 393. 

202 Wild Boar-Hunting, 397. 

203 South-West View of the City of 
Norwich, 400. 

204 Passenger-Pigeon, 401. 

205 Penn’s Treaty with the Indians, 
from the Picture by West, 404, 

206 Castle and Village of Durnstein 
from the Danube, 408. 

207 Organic Remains restored, 409, 

208 Interior of the Remuins of the 
Upper Story, £ Rochester Cas- 
tle, 412. 

209 Gyremay of Rochester Castle, 

210 Virgin and Child: after Raf- 
faelle, 417. 

211 Knave of Bells, 419. 

212 The Wise Men’s Offering, 419, 

213 Type-Founders’ Mould, 423. 

214 Type-Foundry, 424. 

215 Horses preparing to start, 425. 

216 Diagram 1, relating to the Geo- 
logical Situation of Coal, 427, 

2170. 2, damm 

218 Do. 3, do., 428. 

219 Do. 4. do., 428. 

220 M ae and Female Opossums, 

221 West Front of the Cathedral of 

Wells, 433. 

222 Roman Letter- Writer, 437. 

223 Agave, 440. 

224 Quadrangle of Eton College, 441. 

225 Mocking-Bird, 445. 

226 South Front of the Town Hall 
of Ypres, 448. : 

2977 Hunting the Chamois, 449, 

223 Sphenopterls Trifolialata, 451. 

229 sls | at Craigleith Quarry 
451. 

230 Brighton Chain Pier, 4 Dia- 
grams, 454, 

231 Isle of Bourbon Suspension 
Bridge, 455. 

232 Plan of Isle of Bourbon Suspen- 
sion Bridge, 495. _ 

233 Diagram relating to do., 435. 

234 Brighton Pier, 456, 

235 Central Nave of St. Peter’s, 457, 

236 Canterbury, from the Railway, 
460, 

237 Arch at Palmyra, 464. 

938 Ancient View of a Dutch Print- 
ing-Office, 469d. 

239 Composing-Stick, 467. 

240 Table of Corrections, 468. _ 

241 Frames, Cases, &c., 469. 

242 Moulding-Frame, 470. 

243 Casting-Box, 470. 

244 Stereotype-Foundry, 472. 

245 View of a Geyser, or Hot Foun- 
tain, 473. 

246 Geological Mup of England and 
Wales, showing the Coal De- 
posits, 477. 

247 Bird’s-Eye View of St. Peter’s 
at Rome, 480. 

248 Tote of the Sun at Palmyra, 
481. 

249 Newcastle Coal-Field, 483, 

250 Didgram 1, do, 484. 

251 Do. 2, do., 484. 

252 Do. 3, do., 4893. 

253 Cromwell dissolving the Long 
Parliament, 488. 

254 Aurora Borealis, 489, 

255 Safety Lamp, 492. 

256 Parrot, 493. 

257 Mount Hecla, 496. 

258 The Misers, at Windsor Castle 
es Messys, or Matsys, 

259 The Single-handed Alphabet, 
500 


260 To ae aes Alphabet, 
500. 

261 Map of the Coal-Fieid at South 
Wales, 502. 

262 Diagram illustrating do., 502. 

263 Ichneumons, 504. 

964 The Stanhope Press, 505, 

265 The Common Printing Press, 
506. 

266 Applegath and Cowper’s Print- 
ing Machine, 509. 

967 Book-binder’s Rolling Machine, 


: dll. 
268 Ancient Book-binder, 511. 


= —_— —_ es — —_— —_ —_ = — — oo = = — > = — - - —s 





























Cio 


+